#the spoon hand was such a pain to draw i just changed the pose

[haptap-hunter]

rootin tootin soup slinger myatt bragg, i realise its stew and not soup but its too late to change the text in the image now

#Achievement Hunter #ahfanart #myatt #matt bragg #my art #the spoon hand was such a pain to draw i just changed the pose

[rbbalmung]

Pokemon SwSh GPL AU: Get to know ______

Guys, it’s time for my favourite pokemon ship. Prepare for loads of fluff. 

Get to Know Gloria x Hop (Postwickshipping/Hpyu): 

1: Who spends almost all their money on the other? I headcannon that Gloria really likes pokemon plushies, so Hop is always unconsciously checking the stuffed animal section of stores to see if there’s any she doesn’t have. Gloria tries really hard to get him books that pertain to his research, but she really has no clue what he studies aside from the fact that it’s legendary pokemon (Legendary Pokemon are his focus). 

2: Who sleeps in the other’s lap? Gloria! They are the cuddliest couple ever. There’s about a foot size difference between them, so she fits perfectly in his lap. (Hop is def the little spoon, tho). 

3: Who walks around the house half-naked and who yells at them to put on some clothes? TBH, they would both walk around the house half naked. They’re comfort first babies, so you know Gloria’s bra is coming off and Hop is discarding his work clothes the second their door is closed. I think it’s kind of a casual thing for them, though. They’ve known each other long enough that this kind of thing doesn’t bother them. 

4: Which one tells the other not to stay up all night and which one stays up all night anyway? Gloria has to drag Hop’s ass to bed pretty much every night. They’re both busy people, but we all know that Hop would lose track of time while working on his thesis. It is a fact that if Gloria doesn’t come to get him, he will fall asleep on his desk. 

5: Which one tries to make food for the other but burns it all by accident and which one tells them that it’s okay and makes them both cookies? They’re actually both pretty good cooks (Gloria’s mama owns a restaurant in Wedgehurst and Hop’s mom is obsessed with cooking), but I think Hop would probably be the one to burn all the food. The only reason why is because he has a harder time focusing solely on cooking instead of trying to multitask. Now, baking is a whole other story. They’re both terrible at it. 

6: Which one reads OTP prompts and says “Oh that’s us!” and which one goes “Eh, not really”? Gloria would be the one to read the prompts and Hop would be the denier (he secretly thinks it’s really cute whenever she does it). 

7: Which one constantly wears the other’s clothes? Gloria. 100% Gloria. She is constantly cold and has a passion for stealing Hop’s hoodies. He thinks its adorable because they’re always really big on her. 

8: Which one spends all day running errands and which one says “You remembered [thing], right?” Hop would be the errand runner and Gloria would make sure he remembered everything. It goes back to Hop’s mind being a million places at once and Gloria hyper focusing on one thing at a time. 

9: Which one drives the car and which one gives them directions? Hop would drive and Gloria would give directions for similar reasons to the question above. 

10: Which one does the posing while the other one draws? Hop doodles Gloria sometimes to keep his hands busy. It’s kind of an absent minded thing for him to do while reading an article/book. Once Sonia caught him doing it, and when I say she teases him relentlessly, I mean it. Hop absolutely does not let Gloria see these doodles (they’re very cutesy and he’d die of embarrassment). 

11: If they were about to rob a museum, which one does backflips through lasers and which one is strolling behind with a bag of chips? Hop would be the backflipper and Gloria would be the follower. Think back to their GPL season: Hop was blazing ahead at all times without a care in the world. Gloria is the slowest traveler in the world because she likes talking to everyone and visiting all the stores.  

12: Which one of your OTP overdoes it on the alcohol and which one makes the other stop drinking? Neither of them can hold their alcohol, but Hop at least has more body mass than Gloria. They’re a pair of lightweights and nothing you can say will convince me otherwise. (Let’s be real: Bede has to be the one to make sure they get home). 

14: Which one keeps accidentally using the other’s last name instead of their own? Gloria. I actually believe that Gloria would keep her last name even after she and Hop get married because it belongs to her mama (after the divorce, they both changed their last names to match her mama’s maiden name). Hop is also a proud Hoffman, so he wouldn’t use the name Park. However, everyone else will mix it up. Gloria gets called “Mrs. Hoffman” all the time if she’s arriving for restaurant reservations or something of the like. Newer reporters/young children call Hop “Mr. Park” because they just assume Park was his last name. 

15: Which one screams about the spider and which one brings the spider outside? Neither of them are scared of bug pokemon. 

16: Which one gives the other their jacket? HOP. I mentioned it earlier, but Gloria is always cold. Bede asks why he doesn’t just make Gloria bring her own jacket and Hop replies that he likes it when she wears his jacket (they’re freaking sappy).  

17: Who keeps getting threatened by the other’s overprotective older sibling? Pft. Leon? Please. By this point, he’s become the big brother of Gloria as well. The League members are a completely different story. They all like Hop, but since Gloria is one of their younger members and the biggest sweetheart, they’re a protective bunch (Especially Melony and Gordie). 

18: Who’s the first one to admit they have feelings for the other? Gloria, but it didn’t go well. It was right before he was leaving to finish up high school studying abroad, and the timing wasn’t right (aka Hop turned her down because he hadn’t yet realised his feelings for her). Gloria tries her best to move on but never truly gets over him. Luckily, his feelings hit him like a bag of bricks to the stomach when they reunite a couple years later.  

19: How good would your OTP be at parenting? The best. They would definitely be the cool parents (I mean, come on. They’re the freaking heroes of Galar!). I think they’d also be super supportive of their child’s choices. 10/10. They’re made to be parents. (Hop would especially want to be a good dad. He’s initially nervous because he never knew his dad and thinks he might mess up, but Gloria reassures him that he’s doing a good job). 

20: Which one types with perfect grammar and which one types using numbers as letters? Hop would be Mr. Perfect Grammar. Gloria would use mostly good grammar, but her texts would be littered with emojis. 

21: Who gets attacked by a bully and who protects them? Hop is the more confrontational of the two. Gloria tends to believe that people are only mean to others if something bad is happening in their life, but Hop will jump from 0 to 100 if someone even looks at Gloria funny.  

22: Who makes the bad puns and who makes a pained smile every time the other makes a pun? Gloria likes Hop’s bad puns, so everyone else has to cringe in discomfort at the oblivious pair. 

23: Who comes home from work to see that the other one bought a puppy? Hop. Gloria likes catching pokemon and sending them on poke jobs, so there’s a new member to their family at least once a week. 

24: Which one gives the other a piggyback ride when they’re tired? Hop. He’s the only one she would show vulnerability to, and he makes sure not to make her feel ashamed of it. (also, Gloria absolutely could not carry Hop. He’s like, a foot taller than her).  

25: Which one competes in some sort of activity and which one does the overzealous cheering? Both! They’re very supportive of each other to help ease the other’s insecurities. Hop gets really invested in her pokemon matches and Gloria throws him a little celebration every time he finishes a project.  

26: Who takes a selfie when the other one falls asleep on their shoulder? Gloria. Since Hop never goes to sleep at night, it is very common for him to take 5 minute power naps without even realising it. Gloria definitely takes pictures when it happens as a reflex (They were long distance for the first 4 years of their relationship) because she wants to be able to look back at their memories together.  Like Gloria doesn’t know about Hop’s doodles of her, Hop doesn’t know about her phone album of him. 

27: Which one would give the other a makeover if they asked? Gloria? I think they both grow into their separate styles as the get older, but Gloria would push Hop to wear more colourful things. Sonia once told Hop that a man should never tell a woman what to wear because it’s rude. I don’t think Gloria would mind if he suggested something, but he is way too nervous to do it (Sonia scarred him).   

28: Which one owns a pet that the other is absolutely terrified of? Hop is very nervous around Urshifu and Calyrex. Urshifu because he’s terrifying, large, and very protective of Gloria. Calyrex because the pokemon will take over his body without warning to tell Gloria something.  

29: Which one holds the umbrella over both of them when it rains? Hop! If Gloria held it, Hop’s head would be in the umbrella. 

30: If your OTP went on vacation, where would they go and what would they do? Who would take the pictures? Oh my gosh, they’d go everywhere. I think that after Gloria steps down as champion, they travel to all the different regions for at least a couple of years. Gloria would be the one to take pictures and make a little scrapbook when they return home.  

#pokemon #pokemon sword and shield #pokemon swsh #swsh #postwickshipping #GPL AU #hpyu #pokemon hop #swsh hop #pokemon gloria #rival hop #swsh gloria #gloria x hop

[mistressaccost]

I think it looks better on me (oneshot)

Summary: Beth and Benny grab sodas for a change of scenery while studying for the tournament in Paris. A flirty little fic that takes place some days before the iconic “Do you still like my hair?” Just to build up the tension some more..

Word count: 1783

A/N: This is basically an extension of some lines I included as a flashback in my other piece, Beth’s Move. An update for that fic is coming soon!! I just had to write this first to get it out of my head. Also, thank you to @novella12nite for the inspo on kid and ma’am! I really appreciate it!!

and my ao3 is wisechase if you’d rather read over there!

“How did your editor read these hieroglyphics? You got a ghostwriter, Watts?” Beth said through a laugh as she lifted the paper up to her eyes and squinted.

They were squeezed into a small booth at some bar downtown. A drink in front of each of them.

Cokes. Of course.

No alcohol. That was the price of admission for staying on Benny’s shitty air mattress, afterall. It wasn’t a great place to stay but it was Beth’s only place to stay; so she conceded to his boring, sober rules.

But today they were out of the apartment for the first time in days. Beth had remarked earlier that she hadn’t seen the sun in a week, which wasn’t quite accurate though it had been a while. So Benny offered a walk to the bar for a change of scenery. Sure, they were confined to a tiny booth but at least this place was above ground. 

The table between them was covered with pages and pages of handwritten notes and game records. Beth could have a break from the chess cave but not the chess.

“Here. Let me see it.” Instead of grabbing the paper from her Benny slid into her side of the booth to study the paper in her hands. Beth tried to pretend she didn’t realize their thighs were touching. 

She could feel his breath on her neck. It was making her dizzy. She had to start talking to remember to breathe. “No, on second thought the writing in that book is far too pretentious to be anyone but you.” 

He nudged her shoulder with his own, not looking up from the paper. “You still read it, though.” 

A devilish smile spread across her lips. “Oh yes. I found it to be a comprehensive stepping stone piece for those looking to go from beginner to amature. Now Luchenko’s book...” She trailed off, waiting for Benny to retaliate her teasing. 

He looked at her then. He was smiling but his voice had a touch of a far off tone. “Once you’ve beat four Russians, you won’t even want to play me anymore.”

What was he playing at? She couldn’t tell. So she rolled her eyes. “I have to get through just one Russian first.”

“You will. Then you’ll say ‘Just look at that boring American amature, Benny Watts.’ You’ll get tired of me.” 

Now she laughed. Even if there was some truth behind this melodramatic performance, she could tell he was teasing her. “How could I get tired of you when you’re constantly finding new ways to be so utterly annoying? I see you've chosen self pity this time, that’s a new one! Thought that would be below you but see! You’ve surprised me! Well done.”

“Soon I’m never going to beat you again, kid.”

“Kid? Really? You’re such an ass Watts.” Beth brought her eyes back down to the game report. “I’m not a child.”

“No. You’re not.” 

Why did he have to look at me like that? She could see it from her peripheral vision. She tried to concentrate but her brain felt fuzzy.

“Which is ideal really because getting my ass whooped repeatedly by a kid would just be humiliating.”

Beth shot him a glare and made a show of pretending to read the report.

“Oh no. Have I offended you, ma’am?” She shoved his shoulder then, a laugh on her lips. “Losing to the prodigies suck. Whereas losing to Beth’s Harman is beginning to feel like a rite of passage. Now I’m beginning to feel like all the other sorry chumps you make cry. It’s a privilege.”

“You know one time at a competition I just introduced myself and all the guy said was ‘shit’ not even a hello!”

“See. I feel his pain.” He remarked, pointing a ringed finger at her. 

“But Benny, honestly, it doesn’t matter who wins—”

“Who are you and what have you done with Beth Harmon?” 

“Ha ha. Very funny. But I just meant between us. It doesn’t matter if I always win because you always make me think, regardless. You never stop trying. Chasing. We have the same obsession. We aren’t people who get tired.”

“Was that a compliment? Did Miss US Champion just pay me a kind word?” The sarcasm bleeding out of every crevice in his speech was intolerable. But he looked slightly flustered behind it.

“Don’t act like you weren’t begging for one. I mean your ego hasn’t been inflated in-” Beth feigned looking at her watch, “Fifteen whole minutes since the hostess flirted with you when we sat down.”

Benny looked at her mock shocked expression through narrowed eyes. “Hmm,” was all he said. But what he was really thinking was She noticed that? and Is she flirting with me right now?

He was going to say that he’d rather lose to her than win against anyone else. Before she mentioned the flirting. That felt too heavy now. Too open. He was starting to feel twitchy. So Benny just said, “Then set your watch for another fifteen, Harmon. I’ll need some more flattery by then. Now, which hieroglyphics am I supposed to be translating for you?”

Benny went through the paper with her. A game record of one of her old matches that he’d written out and annotated. She’d won but her endgame had been “messy as hell” in his opinion, “just all over the damn place.” (But I still won, was her opinion)

“You got lucky with that endgame.” He said, pushing the paper down and pointing at it. “You had no plan.”

“My mother told me the move’s I made the fastest always got the biggest applause. It’s what I’m good at.”

“That might have worked over here, but no one’s going to be applauding in Moscow when you don’t even make it to an endgame and the KGB are packing your bags by opening day. You have to start forming your endgame earlier, Beth. Much earlier. And your middlegame before you’ve even stepped up to the board. I think you just like winning too much. You can’t get your mind off the prize. Stay present.”

“I like winning too much? Please. Besides, how much is too much? A single, fleeting moment of joy in my miserable life? It makes me happy.”

“It makes you happy? It makes you money. And money doesn’t make you a Grandmaster, kid.” She gave him an infuriated look.

“Sorry. Money doesn’t make you a Grandmaster, Ma’am.” He made a show of that last word, drawing it out and tipping his hat.

“At least I know how to spend my money.” She had a haughty look in her eyes then. “I don’t use it to dress like a fuking pirate.”

He was left blinking at her. How were her quips so calculated and fast? Just like her chess. “Ouch. Calm down there, matey.”

“Yes, I think a little parrot perched on your shoulder would complete the look nicely. Or perhaps a peg leg!” She said, far too pleased with this image she was painting.

“I think I need to call the waitress over to wipe up my dignity.” He put hand up to call the waitress over but Beth quickly reached over him to swat it down.

“Stop, Benny. Don’t annoy her too.” She said laughing softly.

“My apartment, my handwriting, my clothes. Is there anything about me that doesn’t annoy you?” He stared at her with a challenging expression.

Beth narrowed her eyes at him then, daring him to break eye contact. When he didn’t (of course he didn’t) she looked away and tried to fight the color flooding her cheeks. Must her own body betray her like this? It was almost as infuriating as losing to him. Which she was beginning to forget the feeling of. 

She looked down at her cole and started playing with the straw. “It hasn’t been fifteen minutes yet. Sorry.” Don’t look at his hair. DON’T look at his hair. 

But she looked up. Shit. It was a fraction of a second but he didn’t miss it. I’m such an idiot, she thought.

“Ah yes. I remember now.” He had a shit-eating grin on. 

She wasn’t going to take this humiliation laying down. Beth Harmon was known for her attacks. This was no exception. “Only because it somehow manages to cover your excruciatingly large head.”

Benny raised his eyebrows, a stupid smile on his face. He was enjoying this. 

But he didn’t say anything so she continued. “I’m surprised any of us can fit in the same room with it.” Why do I have to talk so much when I’m nervous? 

He took his hat off then, held it over his heart, and tried to put on a pair kicked puppy dog eyes. “Damn, Beth. That one hurt.”

Beth simply rolled her eyes and went back to her straw.

“Let’s see if it’ll fit on your modest head then.” He put the hat on her before she had time to respond. When she let out a huff of annoyance he just continued to adjust it. Using both hands he tipped the hat back so more of her red hair could show.

She pulled away and adjusted it to her liking. “Hm. I think it looks better on me.”

“I think you just like seeing my hair.”

Beth ignored the comment and picked up a spoon from under the hoard of papers. She held it out in front of her like a mirror to see her reflection. 

”You can't even see yourself in that, Harmon.” He said through a chuckle. 

“What? Do you disagree?” She struck a pose then, giggling. Expecting him to hit her with another well executed come back.

A beat of silence. 

He was looking at her. Studying her.

Another beat.

Still staring.  

Finally.

“No. I agree.”

Her breath hitched slightly. She wasn’t expecting that. 

“You look good. Your hair is longer than mine. It sticks out a bit.” He reached toward her and took a red strand between his fingers. “It’s cute.” 

She really wasn’t expecting that. 

But as quickly as it happened, he pulled away.

And she remembered to breathe again. She hadn’t even realized she was holding her breath. 

He started shuffling the papers on the table then, looking for something. When he found it he looked back up at her. “It suits you.” 

So. He liked her hair too. She could work with that. 

“Okay, now listen to this middlegame. I think you’ll like it.” And he began reading. But Beth wasn't listening.

Maybe he didn’t set up the no sex rule for me. Maybe he set it up for himself.

She kept the hat on until they got home. 

#benny watts #benny x beth #beth harmon #beth x benny #queens gambit #the queens gambit #the queen’s gambit

[lppsidefics]

Meihem Fanfic: Victim Parallel

Chapter 1: Breaking news update

><><><><  

“The on going situation downtown has erupted into chaos, as two gun men opened fire on a police barricade. The assailants, who have yet to be identified, robbed the Valiant Marks bank earlier this morning, stealing an estimated 36 thousand dollars in gold, and are currently attempting an escape on Hi 20-20 in a high speed chase. Police Chief Wilhelm had this to say on the matter-”

“Duōme kěpà…” Mei switched off the television as the tea kettle whistled in the kitchen. She took the steaming pot off the heat and poured the boiled liquid into a set of prepared mugs, adding a spoon full of cocoa powder to each as she went. Placing the hot kettle on a rag for cooling, she stirred the mixtures a few times, before rearranging the cups onto a tray for transportation.

Only struggling a little with the balance of the serving plate, Mei headed out into the hallway lined with bedroom doors. She stopped at the first door on the right, where a pink and blue poster was plastered over its surface featuring a brunette girl and signed in the top hand corner, “Love D.va.”

Mei tapped lightly, and opened the door slowly, giving a peek into the room before entering. In the large bed that took up most of the space, was the very same girl from the posters layered along the walls. The bed was fixed with blinking colored lights, and stamped with stickers, some peeling from their edges, and wrapped in the blue sheets was a messy head of brunette hair.

“Zǎoshang hǎo…Good morning…Are you still sleeping Hana? ” Mei whispered, and the girl started to wake.

Her eyes were still half closed, and not adjusted to sight yet, as Hana lifted from the pillow, giving a stretched moan as she moved. “Good… morning.” She greeted, and Mei offered a purple mug full of hot cocoa to the tired woman. “Gamsahabnida…”

“You’re welcome.” Mei replied, before exiting the room and moving to the next door in the hall. This one, was littered with bumper stickers from all kinds of places.

Some just said the names of cities, and some had dumb little jokes on them like ‘Is your refrigerator running? Better catch it.’ Reading them gave Mei the urge to roll her eyes, but she’d grown pretty used to seeing them there.

Again she gave the door a soft tap, but this time someone answered. “Who is it?” Said a cheerful voice from the other side.

“It’s Mei!”

“Come right in luv.” Mei obeyed, and opened the door. Inside, a tall woman with chop cut brown hair was sitting in a rolling chair beside the computer desk. “Good morn’n Mei! You bright an’ bushy tailed today?”

“Good morning Lena, I…” Mei paused to consider the question a second time. “…I don’t know what that mean’s actually, but I made coco.” She said with a smile, holding out the serving tray topped with only two remaining cups.

“Oh, Lovely!” Lena exclaimed with excitement, before taking up the red mug printed with a Christmas tree. “Thanks luv, you’re always think’n of others Mei. Here I got this paper to write, an’ you’re bein’ such a dear.”

“It was no problem.” Mei insisted, taking the final cup of cocoa, and raising it in a cheers pose. “I was making some anyway.” The other woman returned the gesture, and they each took a small swig. The realization that the drink was warm came too late for them both, and they lowered the cups quickly with whimpers of pain.

With sounds of distress, Lena spun around in the chair, placing the hot mug on the surface of the desk and covering her face with her hand. “Sorry…” Mei muttered through her own pain. “…I forgot it was so hot.”

Lena gave a chuckle and smiled. “No need to worry luv, I’m alright.” She straightened up in the seat and crossed her legs. “So are you still goin’ to hospital today?”

“Yes, Dr Winston says Bastion’s condition is getting better.” Mei explained with a nod, and brought the steaming mug up to give it a gentle blow. “He might wake up soon, and the Doctor wants him to have a familiar face to wake up to.”

Returning to face her laptop, Lena started clacking away at the keys at a rapid pace that Mei’s eyes couldn’t really keep up with. “Well that’s real sweet of you to go all that way on ah Saturday luv. Emily an’ I are goin’ for a cinema date this afternoon, if I can get this bloody thing done that is.”

Mei wiped a hand across her lips to remove the cocoa left there, and it was then, that the sound of another door swinging open interrupted the conversation, and a still bed headed Hana passed by in the hallway on her way to the bathroom.

“Say Mei, don’t you need to get goin’?” Lena asked without looking away from the computer screen.

“Hm? No, I still need to take a shower, but I’ve got plenty of time, it’s only eleven a.m.” Mei stated, taking another carful sip of her cocoa.

Lena spun the chair back around to meet Mei. “Not quite luv, my clock here says it’s already passed noon.” Bolting towards the laptop, Mei squinted to read the tiny computer clock at the bottom of the screen.

“Bù hǎole!” Mei exclaimed, disposing of her coco mug on Lena’s desk and rushing out of the room. “Wǒ yào chídàole!” She went for the restroom but the handle was locked when she twisted it.

“Ya!” Hana screamed from inside. “Man-eul yeolji ma! I’m in here! Wait your turn!”

The sound of water spraying from the shower indicated that Hana was not going to change her mind, and Mei gritted her teeth with stress before hurrying down the hall to her own bedroom instead. She swung open the door, her panda bear doorplate clacking on its string, before digging through her closet.

Mei’s room was usually quite tidy, but her closet was almost always a war zone of clean and dirty clothes stuffed into hampers and squeezed into drawers. She grabbed the sleeve of a sweater she recognized and pulled the entire garment out of the pile.

Moving to the mirror on the closet door, Mei held the sweater up, inspecting it’s condition before deciding to pull it on over her tank top. It was a long sweater, practically a dress with her short stature, and the collar was wide enough to reveal the smallest glimpse of her dark blue tank underneath.

But she was low on time, and the outfit was nice enough to suffice. Mei swiped a comb from her dresser table and started viciously pulling it through her dark locks. She brushed until her hair was at least manageable, and then wrapped it into a easy bun at the top of her head, stabbing a bobby pin into it just to keep it from falling apart.

Adjusting her thick rimmed glasses, she gave herself one last checkover in the mirror, before scooping her satchel over her head and heading out of the apartment. “Bye! I’ll be home later!” She called out, digging her bare feet into a set of slip on shoes, and out the door she went, hopping down the staircase in a hurried pace.

The bus ride was short since the hospital was only a few blocks away, and Mei was in the building and on the elevator in less than an hour. Reaching the seventeenth floor, Mei found her way to the front desk for check in.

“Hallo Mei-ling!” A familiar voice greeted, and Mei turned to meet it’s owner. Dr. Angela Ziegler practically glided through the hall in an elegant walk, her blonde hair bound into a tail, and her white coat fluttering like feathery wings behind her. “Who are you here to see today my friend?”

“Nǐ hǎo! Dr. Winston asked me to visit with Bastion today. He’s supposed to wake from the coma soon.” The tall angelic doctor stopped beside Mei as they spoke, her hight nearly dwarfing the Chinese woman.

“Well, don’t be too upset if he doesn’t, Mei-ling…” Angela sighed, trading her clipboard chart with another sitting on the desk surface. “After all, this is not an exact science.”

Mei-ling followed the Doctor down the hall, keeping a brisk pace behind her. “I know Doctor. Last year he didn’t wake for a whole month late, I’m just trying to… stay positive!” She cheered with a smile, holding up a resolute fist of strength.

With a short bit of laughter, Angela came to a slow stop before a hospital room. “I think we all need a little bit of your attitude Mei-ling!” She opened the door, revealing the inner long space where machinery beeped and tiny lights flickered with green hues. The room was rather cramped, but that was normal for a room at a hospital, and the back wall was lined with chairs. Mei moved in and sat into one of the seats, depositing her bag in the chair beside her.

“I’ll go let Dr Winston know you’re here. I’m sure he’ll want to see you too.” Angela said before leaving the woman alone with the patient, and closing the door.

With a sigh, Mei shifted her attention to Bastion, whos small body barely filled the hospital bed. The child’s light brown hair was short and fluffy, like he’d just come out of a bath, and his weak little arms laid motionless.

This was one part of the volunteer work she never got used to. Seeing the patients so fragile and deathly, as if their very soul was dangling between life and the after life.

It was particularly upsetting to see children this way.

Mei shook the thoughts from her mind and forced a smile onto her face, deciding that she needed to busy herself with something she scanned the room for a task to keep her preoccupied.

The many gifts and drawings that had previously been displayed in Bastions old room, were now just cornered on a rolling table for transport, and Mei took it upon herself to organize them for the child’s awakening.

She stood and started to re-arrange the flowers around the window, using the nurses station sink to re-fill the vases with water. She collected the cards and propped them up on their folds, along with the coinciding gift.

One by one, Mei-ling hung the crayon scribbled construction papers along the wall, and gathered the toys into a single waiting chair to save space. She picked up a stuffed bear with a tag signed ‘from Uncle Torby’, and tucked it neatly beneath one of Bastion’s thin arms.

He seemed to have a response to the motion, and gave a very low huff.

Mei sat in the chair again, leaning into speak to the comatose boy. “Nǐ hǎo Bastion…” Though she knew he couldn’t hear her, Mei hoped it would bring him some sort of comfort, trying to let him know that he wasn’t alone. “…It’s Mei-ling, remember me?…”

“…I’ll be right here when you wake up okay?…” The child made no movements, but Mei smiled at him anyway.

Soon after, Dr Winston entered the room, ducking his head slightly to fit under the door frame. “Ah, hello Mei-ling! How are you today?”

“I’m doing fine Doctor.” Mei responded with the nod of her head, and then both their attentions turned to the sleeping child.

Winston sat on a wheeled stool and awkwardly maneuvered himself over to the patients bed. “And how are you doing Bastion?” The Doctor asked jokingly, pretending to listen closer to the boy for an answer. “What’s that Bastion my boy? You’re ready for lunch? You and I both!”

The man laughed boisterously at his own humor, and Mei stifled a giggle. Dr Winston was a tall, muscular man, with thick black hair and a patchy beard. His glasses were comically small on his wide face, and his voice was gruff but warm. He’d been Mei’s teacher in college and now she apprenticed under him, learning what she can about the medical field.

“Let’s get started shall we?” Winston said, taking up a syringe and filling it from a small canister on the table beside him, then, he injected the liquid into Bastions iv tube.

Mei nervously watched the medicine travel through the tube, though she couldn’t really see the water like substance, and the two fell silent as they waited for a response.

Nothing. Bastion didn’t move or make a sound, he just slept calmly, and Dr Winston scratched the back of his head with a massive hand. “Well, that was anticlimactic…” He said with a sigh, and then turned his attention to Mei who was seated across the bed. “…Give him sometime, I’ll check in again later.”

With a nod, Mei relaxed in her chair, and Winston left her alone once again with the patient. Utter silence retaking the room.

#Meihem

[vividlybnha]

fighting a loosing battle

 @krbkweek2k19 Day 1 (April 14)

Dance/Suits/Music 

Warnings: Bakugou is a love sick idiot and Kirishima wins.

Word Count: 1995

Author’s Note: Not gonna lie, I got really carried away writing this. Was gonna end it before it hit 1k but here we are. I love these idiots too much for my heart to handle.

Bakugou doesn’t want to admit it but he’s lost. Totally and utterly lost. He knows when he can hear the chaotic sounds from behind the apartment door, the mixture of music and pots clanging together. But it’s not his fault that he lost. It’s not like Bakugou asked for another villain to show up right before he had to clock out. Yet nonetheless, the noise continues and Bakugou can feel the dread fill him. He can already hear the teasing.

Opening the door makes the pain in his palms tingle, the barely there burning of his skin and Bakugou can’t help but hiss. At least he’s home right? He doesn’t have to go all out on another villain or write another report, he gets to sit down and lay back.

When he opens the door Kirishima isn’t standing there, ready to get his reward for winning their race, which is suspicious because on the rare times that he does win he starts gloating as soon as the door creaks open. He sees the mess of his shoes pilled up against the side of the hallway, mud tracing the bottom. Yeah, Kirishima is definitely home. The music blares louder, soft lyrics smoothing into the sweet sounds of the piano (so different from the loud rock music).

Pulling off the sweaty T-shirt Bakugou can feel his muscles stretching and straining. A feeling he would have appreciated in his younger days, an acknowledgment that he did a good job with training but now it’s the telltale signs that the next few days he’ll have to go a bit easier if he wants to be able to sleep without the tingling pains. Pulling off his socks makes his thighs strain and all Bakugou wants is Kirishima’s arms wrapped around his waist, his fingers delving into his skin, massaging sweet kisses into neck welcoming him home. But that bastard still hasn’t greeted him yet.

He tries to keep quiet as he makes his way to the kitchen, fixated on scaring him as a form of revenge. Which is so funny to Bakugou that despite the fact that they are both pro heroes that fight incredibly dangerous villains that he will still squeak when Bakugou surprises him. He presses himself closer to the wall, grin pulling at his lips. Oh, this one is going to be good. Bakugou takes a quick turn with palms up ready for tickling but stops quickly upon seeing him.

The evening sun presses golden rays into the tiles of their floor, cascading it as an orange sea. It already makes the scene that of a romance movie and then he sees Kirishima. Hair lowly swaying across his shoulders, his sweetly scarred arms brought to his chest as he twirls in lazy circles across the kitchen floor. He looks so soft in the orange light, smiling and singing along to the music. He can see the food bubbling over, it’ll probably burn if they don’t get to it but Bakugou can’t bring himself to stop the scene from playing on. Kirishima dips into another twirl and he giggles. The idiot actually giggles, like something is funny and Bakugou can feel his heart breaking with it. He brushes the hair out of his eyes before dramatically posing to a quick strike of the guitar, one hand high in the air and the other bringing the spoon to his lips as he mouths the words.  Bakugou can’t stop the chuckle at his idiot husband.

Kirishima, of course, as always screams and drops his spoon. Yet the heartfeltness of the scene doesn’t change. Bakugou smiles over Kiirishima’s incoherent yelling of “When did you get here?” and “How long have you been standing there?” and walks over to him following the gentle sways of the music.

“Hey to you to Idiot. You looked so cute dancing I couldn’t help but watch.” Bakugou slowly wraps his aching arms around Kirishima’s waist, ignoring the soreness in favor of the warmth of his skin. He presses impossibly close, attempting to steal his heat, lips pressing gently to Kirishima's neck. He kisses all the way up until he finds Kirishima’s lips again, which are already curled into their usual grin.

“You’re a jerk.” He dips closer for another kiss, soft and sweet. “And a loser, you didn’t think I’d forget did you?” Kirishima’s head dips back in a laugh and Bakugou has to pull his waist closer because he leans so far back he thinks he might fall. He doesn’t but recoils from his laughter and smushes Bakugou’s face in his hands. Bakugou grunts and glares at him.

“I don’t even know what I’m going to do with this win. What is my sweet oh sweet reward going to be?”

Bakugou pulls his face from Kirishima’s soft hands. Despite wanting to nuzzle closer. Kirishima’s hands despite the years of work as a pro hasn’t calloused like Bakugou’s, they are soft and warm and no matter how many times that Kirishima will touch him his hands are always welcomed and loved.

“Maybe it can be me saving dinner and not letting it burn?”

“Oh fuck.”

Kirishima pulls away from Bakugou and grabs another spoon from the cupboard, stirring the already burnt meal. Bakugou leans against the counter, cracking his knuckles against his jaw as he watches.

“I’m not hearing a thank you. I just saved our dinner.” He grumbles at when Kirishima pushes his face away from him and laughs, “Your not getting one. I may not make food like you can but if you had gotten home earlier then maybe it would be different. Be happy I didn’t order sushi.” So he’s gonna pull this card, as always. Bakugou ignores it this time in favor of wrapping around Kirishima from behind, nuzzling as close as he can.

“You’re clingy today.” It comes out more like a question than a statement and Bakugou leans just away enough so he isn’t muffled by Kirishima’s throat. “Missed you.” If he was younger he’d be burning with embarrassment, probably angrily signing those words off but he doesn’t because for the years they’ve been together its always the same feeling when he comes home. It’s always the same smile he comes home to. Yet he can feel the faint anger when Kirishima laughs though. It’s not funny, he misses him, he always does.

Kirishima’s helplessly soft fingers find their way to his cheek, holding him close while he kisses his cheeks.

Bakugou can’t help but love the times like this. Where he gets to hold Kirishima so close, smell the lavender in his shampoo, the dents of scares that line his skin. Bakugou can’t stop himself from pressing soft, knowing kisses into the manly scars.

“Love you.” He says it so softly he almost hopes that Kirishima doesn’t hear. That the words just softly drift in the air until they disappear but one of Kirishima’s hand grapples onto his and he’s smiling.

Kirishima clumsily places the top over the pot, moving it off the now gone fire and turns to face Bakugou. Usually, now he takes the chance to ramble on about his day, the stupid things he saw, his thoughts but today he doesn’t. Today he takes Bakugou’s hands in his and sways to the music.

He can still feel the faint straining of his muscles as he moves to the music, twirling in small circles to the piano chords. But he doesn’t stop, he doesn’t want to. He wants to hold Kirishima as close as he can and simply dance to the music. He can’t even remember the last time they danced together, under all the chaoticness of adult life they usually end up passed out on the bed endlessly mumbling over their days and sassily drawn out remarks.

Bakugou draws Kirishima closer with another step. This is the closest he will ever come to true peace, to true love and happiness. Right here in Kirishima's soft arms, his warm body pressed close to him as he whispers the lyrics to a song Bakugou doesn’t care to hear.

He wants to tell Kirishima all about his day. About how much he missed him between reports, how much he wanted to text him about the simple things. He wants to tell him just how much he loves it when he holds him so closely, how much he loves just being near him. But his words as always get caught in his throat and the only thing he can do is hold Kirishima's hand tighter. As tight as he can.

They stay there for an impossibly long time. So long that the orange sunbeams turn dark and the food goes cold. Kirishima is the one that finally pulls away, pulling Bakugou from his hazy half sleep state. Bakugou only allows him to because he knows they need sleep and food and they probably don’t need to stand in the kitchen for hours on end. Or at least that's what he tells himself because if it was up to him they’d never leave this moment.

Kirishima once again takes Bakugou’s face into his delicate hands and kisses him fully. Barely open lips pressing together. Bakugou can’t help his hands from roaming, pulling Kirishima’s shirt adjacent to him. Anything to have him closer, anything to just feel him there. He grunts angrily when Kirishima pulls away, leaning closer for more. Wanting to feel his lips litter his body with love.

“‘M hungry.” He says between kisses. Bakugou is too, he can feel his stomach grumble with the feeling. He keeps the thought of, ‘well I’m hungry for you’ well in the back of his brain.

“The foods probably cold by now.” It is, it most definitely is. With a grunt, Bakugou begins to pull the plates out of the cabinets and the utensils from the drawers. Kirishima gets out their drinks, still twirling to the music in the background. Bakugou doesn’t see when Kirishima changes it from the soft swirl of piano and guitar and small charms to the grumble of rock music. He can’t stop the grin that overtakes his face and turns to Kirishima.

“Thought you said you were hungry?” He can’t stop the tapping of his foot to the electric rift of the guitar. Kirishima just smiles brightly as always and Bakugou can’t help but feel hopelessly in love.

“I am, the music isn’t stopping anything.”

But it is. And Kirishima knows it is because as soon as the lyrics hit they are both banging their heads and screaming as loud as they can. Even with the knowing look of happiness they share, even with the small flutter of butterflies in Bakugou’s stomach he blushes and stomps his feet to the music.

They don’t get to dinner for a while. They stay in the kitchen, not dramatically swaying to the music like in those stupid romantic movies, like before but rocking as hard as they can, laughing and pulling each other’s strings.

And Bakugou for the life of him can’t figure out which one he loves more.

Then Kirishima turns, hair splayed across his face and laughs hard, he plays the fake guitar wonderfully. Bakugou almost wishes that he was a rockstar instead of a pro-hero because damn could he pull it off. Then he pulls Bakugou close, smashing their lips together with the sheer intensity of the song and leans back, screaming the lyrics. Bakugou feels bright and lovesick and stupid.

He can’t really lose when he is with Kirishima. He can’t just be quiet and himself and angry. He is more, so much more in Kirishima's soft, delicate, wonderful hands. He is everything he wanted to be and Kirishima’s somehow even more.

“I still haven’t gotten a reward yet, I think I might know what I want.”

And upon all the yelling in the music Bakugou hears him so clearly, “Hm?”

“I want you to kiss me.”

And Bakugou finds himself falling in love all over again.

#bnha #mha krbkweek2k19 #kiribaku #bnha kiri #bnha kirishima #bnha kiribaku #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha bakugou #my hero academia #my hero acadmia #boku no hero academia #cute #fluff #dancing #classical music #rock music #music #my fanfic #my fanfiction #fanfics #fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #writing #my writing #stories #my stories #lovesick #lovesick bakugou #mha kirishima #Kirishima Eijirou

[another-miracle]

the meaning of isolation, an Obiyuki fic

He does not remember stepping foot into the pharmacy. Warm wind brushes past his ears and he lets the weight of the girl in his arms sag minutely. He is immediately greeted by a flurry of limbs clawing at his coats, brushing at his hair.

Unwittingly, a snarl escapes his throat and he tightens his grip on his Miss. The hands back off, startled. He can’t bring himself to care. Stalking to the nearest bed, he lays her down gently before grasping at her freezing hand.

He isn’t one to pray, but the ragged breaths passing Shirayuki’s lips and the white, white skin of her face very near brings him to his knees.

-

Inevitably, he is chased out of the room. Curtains draw a barrier between him and Shirayuki, and nothing but a hand on his shoulder paired with a grim smile on Ryuu’s face keeps him from tearing down the fabric and returning to his Miss’ side. At every clang of metal, he bristles, alert, ready to pounce. If any of them even so think of hurting her, of not saving her - regardless the countless assurances that they will try their best  - the sound of medical tools against steel trays will not be the last thing resounding in their ears.

Obi sits with his knives clenched in his fists. He buries his head between his knees, the hilts of his daggers digging into his scalp. Attempts to slow his breathing are thwarted by each person entering and leaving the room and with every minute that passes, he feels himself becoming smaller and smaller. The crushing reality of a world without his Miss hones in on him, forcing him into a corner.

It is lonesome, he supposes, once one has forsaken isolation.

-

“Eat.”

Obi looks up. A bowl of hot soup packed with potatoes and carrots is shoved in his face. Obi’s stomach growls in response.

“I’m not hungry,” Obi grouses, burying his head once more.

Yuzuri sighs.

“Look, you’re helping no one by starving yourself,” she scolds. “You haven’t eaten in days! When Shirayuki wakes up, she-”

His hand flies up and covers her lips.

“Don’t,” he breathes. “It’s my fault she’s like this. It’s my fault she’s in there struggling two nights in a row to stay alive- I don’t- please- just stop.”

Obi’s lungs feel like they are being squeezed dry. It is something he is almost accustomed to now, though he will never be used to losing his Miss. Regardless, the hand on his head is warm. He swallows down the cracking in his chest.

Yuzuri’s voice is soft. “It’s also because of you she has a fighting chance.”

Then, arms go around his shoulders and she whispers, right in his ear.

“Thank you, for bringing her home.”

-

It takes another night before the curtains are drawn back.

Ryuu emerges first. His face gives nothing away but Obi can see it in his tired eyes that something has changed- for the better. Immediately, Obi’s shoulders sag and a small smile pulls at his lips.

Ryuu settles down next to him on the floor.

“...it took us awhile, but her condition seems to have stabled,” he mutters. He huddles close, mimicking Obi’s pose of the past few days, his unruly head of hair the only thing peeking out from between his arms. When he looks up, Obi can swear there are tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

“She’s safe,” Ryuu chokes out, a familiar grating of throat sounding from his tinier frame.

Obi’s arms fly around Ryuu and the smaller boy sobs into his chest. He leans his forehead heavily on his locks, gripping him tight before looking at the direction of the bed.

Sometimes, it’s easy to forget he’s not the only one scared to be left behind.

-

Once Obi finds Ryuu nodding off and convinces him that his bed in the next room is much more comfortable than his hard, manly chest, he musters up the courage to sit on the chair by Miss’ bedside.

She looks much less pale than when Obi saw her last. Her hair, while mussed up after hours of treatment, falls vibrantly on the white sheets. Obi tucks a strand caught in her lip behind her ear and is delightedly met with a flutter of eyelids. He sighs in relief, chin falling onto the pillow next to her head.

“Miss,” he calls into the sheets. “Miss, wake up.”

No response, nor was Obi expecting one. The other pharmacists told him it may take another day at least for her to wake up.

In the meantime, Obi takes the opportunity to poke at her cheek. “Hey, you took too long to be okay. Now I’ve got to wait a whole day before I can scold you.”

Obi turns his head and reaches for her hand tucked beneath the sheets. It’s warm.

“You shouldn’t have done that, you know?” Obi bites out. Tears begin to form before they stream down the side of his face onto the pillow case. He runs his thumb over her knuckles. “I could’ve taken care of myself. I’m your bodyguard, remember?”

Obi brings her hand up and brushes his lips over her fingers, then kisses her forehead. He stares at her a moment longer before finally allowing himself to close his eyes.

-

After a four-hour long nap, Obi is awoken by the incessant cries of his stomach. With Ryuu materializing next to him within said four hours, Obi concedes and decides to leave the room to retrieve some of that soup from yesterday. Ryuu sends him off with a small smile, and a slight assurance that he’ll be the first to know when she wakes up. Obi ruffles his hair before walking off.

Upon arriving at the dinner hall, he receives a punch from Yuzuri and is pulled into a headlock by Suzu. Both scream at what an idiot he has been and rush to dollop him up a bowl of soup. They sit him down in between them and watch like hawks as he spoons soup into his mouth till the bowl is emptied. Obi laughs at their antics and they cry because they thought they were going to lose him forever. He smiles and nudges both of them in their sides, though silent. If there is some truth in that statement, he isn’t going to kill and tell.

Yuzuri and Suzu continue bickering back and forth about Obi’s imaginary future escapades should he be lost forever, and Obi goes to wash his bowl in the sink. Just as he rinses off, the dinner hall door slams open and Ryuu stands there, breathing heavily. Obi’s eyes widen before he breaks into a run.

He sprints down the hallway and comes to an abrupt stop in front of the pharmacy room. Taking a deep breath, he pushes the door open. He enters the room to see her step away from the bed to him.

Smiling, she waves. “Hi.”

He keeps his arms locked to his side.

“Hi,” he breathes.

She laughs, but immediately her smile grows pained and Obi scurries to get her back on the bed.

“Miss, please. You’ve hurt yourself enough for my sake.”

Shirayuki looks up at him, eyes soft. She reaches for his hand - he immediately grips it tight. She sighs, “I just wanted to protect you. There were too many, and you were letting them get too close.”

There are no words to explain the frustration he feels. “Miss, I know what I’m doing. I’m just doing my job.”

“And I’m doing mine!” Her cheeks flush with petulance and Obi is never more relieved for the colour splayed along her cheekbones. “I’m protecting what I treasure - the herbs, the medicine, and the people I love!”

Obi’s heart hurts at her declaration. “Miss… You don’t have to protect me. I’m meant to be disposable. These hands-” he raises both of hers, “-aren’t. You save lives, Miss. Don’t give that up for someone like me.”

“I saved you, didn’t I?” Shirayuki persists. “That has to count for something.”

Obi shakes his head while grinning. Be that as it may, he’s just glad to have her alive. “We’ll agree to disagree. I’m just happy you’re safe.”

At this, Shirayuki relaxes. She settles on the bed. Gripping at his hand once more, she tugs him to look at her.

“Hey.”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you,” she says, eyelids drooping.

A soft laugh. “What for?”

“Without you, I wouldn’t be here today.”

Obi sits heavily onto the chair next to the bed. Slowly, he brings her hand up and presses it against his forehead. The prayer that passed his lips seems like nothing but a distant memory now.

“And I, you, Miss,” Obi mumbles.

#obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #but what exactly happened you say? #find out never! #because i'm too lazy for backstory #but it's pretty obvious i suppose #wheeee #yixin's fic

[dragonleesupporter]

Charms (Paradigm Series)

         Alo’s eyes fluttered open as he stretched out in bliss. Either he had chosen the best branch of his life, or this was heaven. It wasn’t until he felt arms wrapped around his middle, did he realize where he was. In Shasta’s bed… with Shasta spooning and hugging him from behind.

             The thief remembered that he had stayed the night at the prince’s castle. He tried ever so carefully to get up without waking the prince, since he was sure he’d get caught by one of his parents if he stayed there, and wanted to leave without disturbing his love. The golden one would have to tend to his duties anyway.

             “Hhhmmm… what?” Shasta muttered sleepily as his eyes struggled to open, Alo was not careful enough, it seemed.

             Alo was about to groan of disappointment, but he didn’t out of mere surprise. Something seemed different about Shasta’s voice. His tone was… deeper than usual, more relaxed, and honestly kind of hot… But Alo couldn’t get distracted with the sexy voice, he had to get out of there before he got caught IN BED with the prince. He started squirming at the thought.

           Once Shasta woke up a little more, he realized he had his soulmate in his arms, who seemed rather restless at the moment.

             “Good morning, Alo.” He hummed happily as Alo tried to get out his grasp.

             “G-good morning, Goldie.” The thief paused to return the greeting. “Any chance you could let me go?” He struggled to get away from Shasta as the golden grecken squeezed him tighter.

             “Nah.” Shasta shook his head, still not fully awake. “And I like that nickname…” He continued to murmur in that deeper voice.

             “Why not? If your parents catch us like this, we’re both dead.” Alo tried to explain but the prince spun the thief around in his arms, put a finger to Alo’s mouth and tried to stop him from wriggling.

             “They gave me an off day today. I don’t have to tend to my duties, and my main servant will bring me food when I ring the royal bell. Nobody’s gonna come in here otherwise… It’s a day to ourselves.” He smiled, pulling his love closer and realizing his glowing face. “Why are you blushing?”

             “I-it’s your voice…” Alo admitted, face heating up even more. “It’s… entrancing.”

             Shasta suddenly flushed a bright blue, not even realizing he had a case of low morning-voice. His parents always told him that he sounded like a king when he woke up, but he never expected something so simple as his voice to make his love blush so much.

             “Do you… like it?” He asked, purposefully keeping his voice a low growl just to see that grey glow increase.

             “Y-yeah.” Alo tried to say as if it wasn’t a big deal, but he could hear the crack in his voice, and could feel the blush spreading even further across his face, and his nonchalant disguise crumbled from his wobbly smile.

             Shasta hugged Alo tight, and nuzzled him, their soft fur gliding against one another’s. Even though it was a pain trying to contain his blushing through all of the prince’s antics, Alo felt truly safe for the first time in his life. With Shasta surrounding him with love, he felt protected, and for the first time, he relaxed his muscles, and damn, did it feel GOOD. He wrapped his arms around Shasta in turn making the prince gasp in surprise and then display a pure smile with sparkling eyes. The golden grecken felt his whole body heat up as Alo nuzzled him affectionately. Both of them clung on, seeming to glue themselves to each other as they felt the whole universe circle around them in universal harmony, the two falling into an endless abyss of love that only got deeper with every second. Neither of them let go for a long time until they heard a low, distinctive growling.

             At first, Shasta thought it was a beast or maybe a ghost… just to realize it was Alo’s stomach. Both started giggling about the whole ordeal, especially since Shasta had even grabbed his sword off the table next to them to fend off an invisible creature that he thought had growled. They got up and decided to eat, knowing that if they didn’t stop cuddling, they would both get lost in each other again and starve.

             The prince didn’t want to order anything from his servant in fear of his soulmate being found, despite the fact he could hide a thousand greckens in his room. Instead, they opted for the chocolate and Wishing the Moons they had left behind from the previous night.

             Alo put the brown thing in his mouth, not expecting much, but absolutely awed at the amazing taste that filled his senses. It was like love had become a luscious, rich fruit that he could bite into as it melted in his mouth, melting him with it.

             Shasta giggled at Alo’s expression. His eyes were pointed up with a sleepy, dazed look, and his figure swayed side to side with how lax his body was, chewing the yummy, melty morsel.

             Shasta drank a couple DROPS of Wishing the Moons and got a similar laid-back attitude. Not completely drunk, just blurred slightly.

             “Hey, what do you have in your pocket? I’ve always been curious.” Shasta pointed at Alo’s big pouch he had in the front of his hoodie as they sat there enjoying each other’s company.

             “I’ve been collecting charms…” Alo explained as he pulled a few out. “They aren’t that expensive… so stealing them isn’t that bad… They’re quite easy to use, unless you think too hard about it. Just think of who you want to use them on, most of the time it being yourself, and then snap the finger of one of your hands as you hold the charm with the other.”

             The charms were orbs of different color, texture and size. Some were darker shades and had smoother surfaces, while others were brightly colored and had rough or uneven shells. All of them had a glass-like structure, with a small light illuminating from inside each one.  

             “The smaller a charm is, the shorter it’s effects last. The darker colored ones are more on the calm side, normally depleting something where the bright ones normally cause something to increase or intensify.” The hooded grecken explained while gesturing to a few of the orbs.

           Shasta reached and plucked a large bright orange charm off of the ground, staring at its swirly designs with intrigue. It was uneven and looked more like a plump cloud than a round object.

             “What’s this one do?” He asked.

             “That’s a youth charm, I believe. It changes the mind of anyone into that of a child’s.” Alo was about to turn and start talking about some the other charms he had on display, when he caught a glimpse of a mischievous smile crossing his lover’s face.  

             “Shasta, what are you thi-?” The prince snapped his fingers, and Alo suddenly felt… different.

             His eyes opened wide, and he was trying to process this bubbly feeling inside him. A wobbly smile made its way to his lips as he tried to contain this sudden intensified happiness. He could tell he was failing from Shasta’s expression of wonder and excitement.

             The thief suddenly wanted to laugh, but covered his mouth, still trying to resist the charm’s power.

             “No! Don’t hide your laugh!” He heard Shasta whine longingly with a childish pout, making him want to giggle even more.

             Alo slapped both hands over his muzzle, his face heating up as he desperately tried to hold back his strange mirthful state, but he could tell he was slipping… A charm’s power was irrefutable after all. The thief could tell Shasta was getting impatient and he started to panic when he saw him draw closer, his smile devious.

             “I’m hearing that laugh, one way or another. ~” He sang and grinned, wiggling his fingers teasingly.

             Alo was confused until Shasta warped his arms around him and started gently wiggling his fingers against his sides. The thief instantly squeaked and pressed his hands tighter to his face.

             He just had to be ticklish.

             He tried to get up, maybe escape, but for some reason… he didn’t want to. He just stayed there as the prince tickled him. Despite he felt utterly embarrassed he also felt excited! He decided to finally accept the feelings inside him, but still kept his mouth shut and held back his laughter to keep up the game.

             He almost broke at the frustrated huff that came from the heir, as he grew impatient. His wiggling of the fingers turned to rapid scratching and squeezing up and down from the top of his ribs, to his hips. That almost did it. Alo practically jumped a foot in the air, however, he didn’t give in, but DAMN did it tickle! The thief’s arms shook with the effort to not come crashing down to his sides in fear of uncovering his mouth and laughing, losing the game in the process.

             The prince grew tired of that spot after realizing Alo was still refusing to laugh. Even though his eyes were squeezed shut and the edges of his smile were visible past his hands, he still wasn’t budging!

             Shasta wanted to get the best reaction out of this childized version of his soulmate, so to save himself time, he planned to play into Alo’s reactions of him talking about different spots.

             “Aw. Look at that face.” He cooed, seeing Alo’s face turn even more grey, if that was possible… “You’re really stubborn. You know that?” He smiled as Alo shook his head back and forth. “What if I tickled behind your ears? Will that get you to break?” He teased mercilessly, as the child of a thief let out a squeak. “Not there? What about neck?” Alo instinctively scrunched up his shoulders, a few giggles slipping. “Hmm, what about your stomach?” Alo’s eyes bulged out of his head as he squirmed and shook his head side to side rapidly. Shasta finally had his answer of where to go next.

             The prince spun around and pinned Alo down, riding up his hoodie to expose his belly. Alo was already emitting muffled giggles of anticipation as Shasta posed dramatically, arms above his head and fingers wiggling like crazy with a big goofy grin on his face. He used to love this game as a kid, and couldn’t hold himself back when he saw that death-by-adorableness, blushing face. He let out an overdramatic evil laugh as his hands came down.

 They were both loving this game…

             As soon as Shasta’s hands touched Alo’s navel, the dam finally burst.

             “NAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Alo screeched in laughter as his whole body shook with the force of his own uncontrollable cackles. “SH- SHAHAHAHAHSTAHAHAHA! IHIHIT TIHIHICKLES!” He curled up in a ball, childlike titters still pouring from him.

             “Ihihisn’t thahahat thehehe pohohoint?” Shasta couldn’t help but laugh with him, his laughter becoming too contagious to resist.

             Alo’s voice was higher than usual, most likely a side affect of the charm. Shasta kept coaxing the beautiful sound of cackles from his love, and felt his heart swell at the sight.

             Alo, laughing helplessly as he thrashed, eyes squeezed shut with a few grey tears of mirth spilling, his nose scrunched up with the biggest smile adorning his bright grey face. After a moment or two, Shasta realized something… Alo wasn’t fighting back. He was thrashing, yes, but it looked like he was making a conscious effort NOT to push on the prince’s hands. Shasta’s smile widened.

             “Waihihit… dohoho yohohou lihihike thihihis?” He snickered.

             “N-NOHOHOHO!” Alo threw his head back as more booming cackles came from him. “IHIHIHIH- NAHAHAHA!!!” He was cut off by his own screaming laughter as Shasta nibbled on his belly.

             “Someone’s lying to me~.” Shasta sang and hummed into the thief’s tummy, sending him further into hysterics.

             A siren went off in Alo’s head as Shasta took a deep breath and placed his lips on the very center of his stomach all while scratching at his sides to keep him laughing. He had never actually been tickled before, accept accidentally by friendly animals of the forests. However, he had seen siblings, mothers, and fathers tickle each other from his secret spots in the trees. The children would always grow exceptionally nervous when their sibling or parents mentioned raspberries, and took deep breaths to blow on their skin and make the child laugh even more. If that’s what Shasta was about to do, he was a goner.

             “Nahahahahaha! No raspberries! NO RASBERRIES, NO! Nohohohot fahahahahair!” Alo cried, but yet waited with anticipation as Shasta painfully stalled for the element of surprise.

 Then he blew!

 “FAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! IHIHIHI- AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Alo couldn’t even form worlds from how badly it tickled. It felt like a tickly firework had exploded over his stomach, lighting up every nerve and he loved it!

 Alo couldn’t even think about anything but his own wild cackles. He had never laughed that hard in his life! All his depression melted away and he ascended to a place unknown to him. He was cackling, giggling, snorting, hiccupping- he just couldn’t stop! He didn’t want to stop.

             Shasta couldn’t stop either. Too cute. It was TOO CUTE!

             He kept scratching as the sides of his soulmate’s belly and kept blowing raspberries in the middle as Alo’s frame bounced like crazy with the force of his deep laughter.

             The purple grecken’s brain was overloading with mirth and as he found himself breathless, he started to panic.

 When Alo’s voice started to grow hoarse, and his hands started to push on Shasta’s head, the prince took it as a sign to stop. He got up and let Alo fall limp on the ground.

             When the prince looked down, he saw a blissful, exhausted, tickled-silly Alo on the ground, riding out the last of his giggles, desperately trying to rub away the maddening tingles that were left behind.

             After he had caught his breath, he looked at Shasta with happy eyes.

             “Did you enjoy that?” The prince asked, his eyes excited and adoring at Alo’s slightly more shy expression.

              “Hehe…” Alo receded into his coat and rubbed the back of his neck, his shy smile making Shasta’s chest feel like it was going to burst.

             “Do you think… maybe we could do that again… s-sometime?” Alo squeaked in a child’s voice as the prince’s eyes dilated until no white was showing.

             Shasta doubled over and fell on the ground, pounding his fists on the floor in his own fit of hysteria.

             “Youhohohou… ohohoho myhyhyhy Seheheha… Y- yohohou wahahant mohohore? Ahahahafter AHAHAHALL ohohof thahahat?” He wheezed, smiling almost as big as Alo.

             “Well…” Young Alo looked down, embarrassed. “I-ihit was f-fuhun is ahall…” He fiddled with the loose strings of his hoodie, eyes askance.

             “Sure!” The golden one jumped up, leaned over, and picked up the equivalent of a five-year-old.

             “B-b-b-but not now…” The childlike purple grecken curled in on himself, shielding his tickle spot.

             “Okay… How about some more cuddling?” Shasta suggested as Alo nodded franticly.

             …

             When the charm did finally wear off, all that was left was embarrassment. Alo looked at Shasta as if his life just ended, his eyes scared, and his mouth sadly bent downwards in a humiliated frown. They had been cuddling and had a few more small tickle fights, before the thief had snapped out of his child self.

             Shasta took notice of the look and worriedly wrapped his arms around his soulmate.

             Alo couldn’t even bring himself to speak he was so embarrassed. He was already embarrassed in his child mind, but this was HUMILIATING. He didn’t expect to like something so childish, nor did he expect Shasta to be so predatorial and malicious in his role as the tickle monster.

             Shasta HATED that look. Alo looked so scared and sad! There was nothing to be ashamed of!

 So, what did the prince do?

             “AH! H- Hehehehehehey!” Alo squirmed as Shasta gently scratched underneath the fur on his hips.

           “Come on, don’t be embarrassed…” Shasta cooed. “Plus, you know you can get away from me right now, right? Or you could say ANYTHING close to stop and I’ll let you go.” Not to Shasta’s surprise, Alo didn’t speak. He just sat there and took it, giggling like mad, also, once again, forgetting his shame and letting himself laugh.  

             “See? I know you like it. It’s fine, it doesn’t make me think any less of you. In fact, I love it too!” Alo paused for a moment and looked at Shasta who had big smile on his face.

             “You like it too, huh?” He smiled deviously.

             “Yep! I- … Uh-oh.” Shasta opened his eyes and saw his lover with another charm.

             “U-umm what does that one do?” He asked, sweating bullets as he stared at the bright pink spikey orb in Alo’s hands.

             “You know… I thought I was never going to use this one…” He smiled and snapped.

             Shasta gasped as he felt countless fingers wiggling all over his body, but when he looked down, there was nothing there.

             “WH-WHAHAHAT THEHEHHE- WHAHAHAHAT IHIHIHS THIHIHIHS?!” He cried, bucking as he fell to the bed, hugging himself as he was tickled stupid by seemingly nothing.

             “It’s a charm designed specifically to imitate s-s-sensitivities and act on them. Plus, the more you-”

             “AHA! IHIHIT’S GEHEHETING WOHOHORSE!” Shasta thrashed and rolled but it was no use, he fell limp and gave in to his laughter.

             “What I was going to say was that the more you laugh, the stronger the spell gets, tickling you more and more.” Alo snickered. Even he had to admit, this, albeit silly and childish game, was the most fun he’d had in a long time.

             That was a day full of carefree laughter following a day so grim.

#Paradigm Series

[0blivion-laughs]

RAY CAESAR

Many call Ray Caesar the Godfather of Digital Art, and his process is completely digital from its beginning through the printing stage. Though he is certainly seminal in his oeuvre, it is his fantastically disturbing content that has made him a cult favorite, from collectors like Madonna and Elton John to the population at large who not only know of his heartache, but embrace it. Caesar frequently talks of suffering from Dissociative Identity Disorder. Combine this with his time working in Art and Photography Department of The Hospital For Sick Children in Toronto and you are faced with a sea of controversial imagery.

“When you grow up in a dark place filled with fear and pain and cruelty, there is a tendency to find hidden places of pleasure and beauty within that world of the night,” mentions the artist. “I have always thought that the greater potential for evil and darkness that there is an even greater potential for good and light. There is a natural inner drive within the human mind to find balance in any situation and find ways of coping in a sea of turbulence. We are all stronger than we give ourselves credit for and when our conscious mind cannot handle something overwhelming in the darkness of the real world, our subconscious becomes very creative and takes its own path into an inner light. For me art is an expression of living in that duality and a visual voice to express fear and rage and sadness… and hope and calm and ultimately, love.”

SALAD DAYS

I was born in London, England in 1958, the youngest of four and much to my parent’s surprise, I was born a dog. This unfortunate turn of events was soon accepted within my family and was never again mentioned in the presence of polite company.

I was a rambunctious youth as was natural to my breed but showed a fine interest in the arts as I drew pictures incessantly on anything including the walls and floors of every room of our tiny house. After some trouble with intolerant neighbors, my family was convinced to move to Canada and it was not long before the burgeoning town of Toronto became our new home. Unfortunately the drawing continued to become somewhat atypical and aberrant and it was  impressed upon me that such images might not be suitable for public viewing. In the summer of 69, there was a valiant attempt to stop me from doodling infamous contemptible fascist dictators upside down on my stomach with a ballpoint pen. I was consoled however by the encouragement to continue penciling in faces of flamboyant cowboys such as Gene Autry, Roy Rogers, The Lone Ranger and Tonto on my toenails but was expressly forbidden to talk to them at night. It can be said that there are defining moments in a dogs life that can only be described as pivotal. Mine came when I received a gift of a flesh toned 12 inch plastic movable human doll attired in cheaply made military fatigues called “GI Joseph”. I however named him “Stanley Mulver” and immediately resigned his commission from the light infantry. My Mother helped in this by sewing small business suits and leisure wear out of leftover Christmas fabric embroidered with holly and snowmen, tinfoil shoes and one tasteful Safari suit made of tight fitting powder blue rayon that proudly shone cobalt in the summer sunlight. It wasn’t long before I had begun making enlarged wigs out of gray plasticine. These wigs soon became huge pompadours for Stanley and looked even more grand when I meticulously imbedded small hairs from my daily body and face shavings. This hirsute practice along with walking upright allowed me to fit in with other children even though my father considered it a waste of time. In short, Stanley had become a visage of the Man I could never be, of that elusive self one sometimes glimpses down the tunnel of infinite reflected mirrors. Although ridiculed by my peers, I proudly wore Stanley around my neck at all times as if to say “SEE! This is the man I will be, a good man, a kind man”. I have worked in many fields over the years, attended obedience classes and art colleges, jobs designing horrible buildings in architectural studios, medical art facilities, digital service bureaus, suspicious casino computer game companies, eventually working at computer modeling, digital animation and visual effects for television and film. Some award nominations have been attained and I have been driven in long black liquor filled limousines and walked on hind legs down red carpets in Pasadena while wearing strange smelling rented tuxedos. Things change and summer years come to an end. My change occurred one night when my Mother visited me, which was slightly unusual because she had passed away some months before, a victim to the cigarette habit she could never quite lick. Facing a wall and slowly turning I saw the right side of her face ablaze in light, her hand trying to cover the light as if she were apologetic for having it seep through. Words were said about following rabbits down holes and I was shown galleries of work which were to be my own. My Mother was not the first visitation I have had and it seems she will not be the last. I live in a brick house with my wonderful wife Jane and a coyote called Bonnie. I like eating avocados and I don’t really mind being a dog.

THE HOSPITAL FOR SICK CHILDREN For 17 years I worked in the Art and Photography Department of The Hospital For Sick Children in Toronto from 1980 until 1997. I worked in a department that documented such things as child abuse, surgical reconstruction, psychology and animal research. They were years that I will never forget, years of witnessing great sadness but also great miracles. I often awake in the middle of the night and realize I have been wondering the hallways and corridors of that giant hospital. As I lay there in the dark, I struggle to remember the fading words of those that still haunt my memories of so many years ago. It is so clear to me that this is the birthplace of all my imagery. It is appropriate that I now live my dreams for those that didn’t get a chance to live theirs…. to do otherwise would be a sin.

Much of my work at the hospital was tedious and boring in that I produced tremendous amounts of statistical data before the advent of computers  and dealt with a lot of sensitive photographic material and work for publication. Another part of my job was overwhelming in that at any given moment I could typically find myself hovering over a tiny premature infant covered with tons of equipment. I would have to sift through the equipment to make a technical diagram, a teaching tool to allow intensive care nurses to have some idea of all that tangle of machinery that kept that tiny infant alive. Other times I would have to draw a similar thing of some poor animal in the research dept that had the misfortune of being a lab animal. To this day I have developed a profound love for animals that is very important to me. On a few occasions I dealt with forensic material for the court or sensitive medical documentation that would for me be overwhelming. I worked on board games and flash cards for brain damaged children and some of the early computer animations of the cryogenic removal of a brain tumors. Teaching hospitals are like tiny cities and whenever you think you have seen it all, reality slaps you in the face and shows you something that makes you re-evaluate everything. I learned in my life that human hands can be cruel and unkind but more often they can perform heart surgery or write a check to build a new wing of a hospital or just simply brush away a child’s tear.” Miracles do exist but they are often the product of our own actions and the incredible work of of the unsung heroes that care for children.

MY PROCESS

I create models in a three dimensional modeling software called Maya and cover these models with painted and manipulated photographic textures that wrap around them like a map on a globe. Each model is then set up with a invisible skeleton that allows me to pose and position the figure in its three dimensional environment. Digital lights and cameras are added with shadows and reflections simulating that of a real world.First the models are sculpted similar to pushing and pulling the surface of a piece of clay. I am often reminded of being in preschool with my huge chunk of Plasticine. I once modeled a Plasticine shoe but my father forbade me to wear it in public. I then create an inner structure of joints similar to a skeleton that allows me to pose the figure with a spine, shoulders, elbows and even finger joints. Many heads are modeled with many a different expression and these can be blended to create a subtle look similar to the one my wife has when I have done something suspicious.I color the models first in a very simple way, then each surface in the model is wrapped with a texture that may be painted digitally such as a flower petal or from a digital photograph such as a wood surface. I collect textures the way some people collect little silver spoons and I have a story about each texture in my collection such as the one about my father’s hip operation scar or the picture I convinced my gastroenterologist to give me of the inside of my colon. My favorite textures to collect are skin textures, as I have a legitimate excuse to ask people to expose large areas of bare skin.As my work is printed I am often asked about my original, but it exists only in the computer in a dimensional world of depth, width and height. I am fascinated by the concept that this 3 dimensional space exists much as another reality and even though I turn the computer off, I am haunted by the fact that this space is still there existing in a mathematical probability, and the space that we live in now might not be all that different.

[yannasunflower]

Incantatrix - Chapter 3

Incantatrix Pairings: NaLu, Jerza, Gajevy Summary: Lucy is a purification witch and Natsu’s magic has been corrupted by a dark, unknown force. What proceeds is an adventure, a few discoveries, and a new kind of magic Lucy never expected to find.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | ffnet

Lucy didn't believe in lazy Sundays. Sweat slid down the side of her face, strands of her hair slick with it and stuck to her cheeks. She brushed at them impatiently, reaching back to tighten her ponytail, eyes narrowed as she watched her opponent move, side to side, feet never quite stilling. Briefly, she wished she'd drank more water before their session had started. Her feet almost slid across the soft, cushioned ground.

Her opponent moved forward, so quick Lucy nearly stumbled. Lucy lunged to the right, chest heaving, left arm coming out to slam her fist into their face. They ducked and threw an elbow at her exposed ribcage. Twisting, she took it to her left shoulder instead, digging her feet into the ground so she wouldn't stumble.

"Don't leave any openings," Erza snarled. Her own forehead was dotted with sweat and her fists were raised in a defensive pose. Her mouth was tight, jaw clenched as she waited for Lucy to move and retaliate.

Lucy threw herself forward, ducking Erza's outstretched hands and sweeping her leg underneath the other woman. Erza hit the ground with a thud and Lucy scrambled to place her in a hold. But Erza was too quick, right arm flashing out to hit Lucy square in the chest and send her on to her own back. In about ten seconds she was pinned and sighing with exasperation, Lucy tapped out.

"Your movements get clumsy the more frustrated you get," Erza scolded lightly, helping the blonde back to her feet. Lucy nodded, stretching her arms above her head and trying to steady her breathing. Working out and sparring with Erza had only gotten minimally easier over the years. The red-head was a challenging, demanding instructor. Which made her an excellent one. At least now, she thought, glancing over to where Erza had her hands resting on top of her head, she could at least give Erza an equal workout.

"Remember to remain calm and focused," Erza continued, handing Lucy a water bottle and opening her own. Lucy sipped at hers carefully. From past experience she knew chugging water right after a workout wasn't the best of ideas.

Out of habit, the two began to jog around the studio as a cool-down, chatting amicably about this and that as their muscles relaxed slowly. By the end of the jog and stretches, Lucy was breathing a little easier and she didn't feel quite so overheated as she had.

Erza had owned the studio for a few years and although she had insisted on giving Lucy lessons for free, Lucy paid monthly for her membership after Erza had offered to teach her. Granted, she hadn't objected to the "family discount" Erza had offered her - or bullied her into as Jellal called it. They had a long-standing tradition of one on one sessions every Sunday morning. Erza was the reason Lucy could climb up a flight of stairs without panting and also why she'd become a much better cook.

"What you eat is just as important as what you do," Erza had basically pummeled into her head until Lucy was eating veggies daily and taking care to grow her own produce.

Grabbing her bag and zipping up her sweater, she waved at Erza cheerfully.

"I'll see you around, I have some errands to run," she called. Erza waved back and nodded.

It was gray and cloudy outside. Lucy stepped out and popped a pair of headphones in, going to turn on some music for her walk back home when her phone buzzed with a text message. The cold air made her shiver a little and she made a note to start bringing her warmer jacket. Half-hoping it was Natsu, she opened up the text and realized it was Levy spamming her as six messages popped up one after another on her screen.

So I finally dug my heels in and researched Natsu's thing…

Bad, Lu. Very bad. See me ASAP.

Also, bring coffee pls.

And muffins. I love muffins.

Just want to reinforce that the info I have is CRUCIAL.

Oh wait, Sunday, duh. Call me when you're here.

Frowning, Lucy played her music and changed direction, heading instead toward Levy's apartment. The blue haired girl always used Sundays as her day away from the library so she knew she'd be holed up in her apartment with tons of books and no food. Sighing, Lucy made a mental note to force Levy into some grocery shopping that week. Sometimes she wondered how the small witch had survived life so long.

She stopped by their favorite bakery to order muffins and coffee, hurrying to get the food to Levy while they were still warm while also not spilling the dangerously hot coffee. Plue trotted at her side, carrying the bags of muffins carefully in his mouth. The streets were still quiet; it wasn't quite ten in the morning yet and some of the fog still clung to the sidewalks. Her pace kept her warm but she looked forward to Levy's toasty apartment and the coffee.

Lucy didn't bother with calling, knowing Levy had probably forgotten where her phone was after texting her. She knocked on the apartment door instead, not surprised by the thump and loud swearing she heard. Levy threw open the door, glasses askew and hair wild.

"I dropped a book on my toe," Levy said flatly. Her expression brightened at the sight of the coffee and muffins. "But, as always, your face brings light to my darkest days." Her eyes did not waver from the goodies.

Lucy rolled her eyes and laughed, stepping into the doorway. Plue moved forward and dropped the muffins on the couch before promptly climbing onto the couch and curling up.

"You're only nice to me when I bring food, I swear," Lucy sighed.

Levy shook her head, fingers already unwrapping a blueberry muffin.

"It's when you bring coffee," she corrected and Lucy snorted as her friend stuffed the entire muffin into her mouth, cheeks hilariously huge as she began to dump sugar into her coffee.

Lucy poured creamer into hers and added only a little bit of sugar, stirring thoroughly before taking a cautious sip. She sat down at Levy's kitchen table, eyeing the damage.

Books were strewn everywhere, some open and some with post-its sticking out. Notebook paper covered the table and was taped to the walls, colored tape making lines between odd-looking diagrams and images that made up a large blank space on the wall in her living room. Lucy stood again and faced one just next to the small fireplace, tracing her finger along the dark lines.

"This looks familiar," she mused, placing her finger on her chin as she thought aloud. "I have a vague memory from college."

"We learned it in Dark Arts," Levy informed her somberly, sucking down coffee and wiping at her mouth.

Lucy sucked in a deep breath and sipped her coffee. That couldn't be good. That class had been grim at best and downright disturbing at worst.

"Tell me what you know," Lucy sighed, turning to face her. Levy was digging through the books on her armchair, muttering strange words to herself in at least two other languages. Her coffee twisted and turned precariously in her hand as she used the other one to shove books aside.

"Okay, I don't know a lot but what I do know is…not good. I got the image from Droy that you had him draw out of your mind and I recognized only a couple of things. So, going with that, I was able to find a few texts on body energy manipulation, which is a fascinating field really. Jellal could tell us a lot more but you should read up on it, it's really interesting how -"

"Lev," Lucy interrupted and Levy blinked, mouth open. She shut it, nodding vigorously.

"Sorry, right. So those texts eventually lead me to more texts on dark rituals which was, let me tell you, not fun, you owe me for some of the pictures I had to look at and can't unsee. Anyway, I couldn't find the exact ritual used on Natsu because they're pretty rare. The materials needed for them are hard to find and they often require a lot of human sacrifices.

"What they do all have in common, however, is they require a piece of the victim or target of the magic."

Lucy frowned. Levy had just shoved a lot of knowledge at her, most of it ugly and cruel, and she took a moment to absorb it, chest constricting at Levy's last words.

"Creepy," she muttered. "I'll ask Natsu if anyone has stolen something from him lately. Does it matter what's used?"

"It has to be something of deep emotional value," Levy answered, frowning at the heavy tome in her hand. The coffee cup was empty and forgotten on the low table in front of the couch. "I guess it imbues items with a sort of magic energy all on their own."

Lucy's hand went to her amulet at the thought, humming agreement. She'd seen the same in her own work.

"I hate to say it, but that sounds like someone close to him," Lucy sighed. Levy nodded agreement, glancing up from the book.

"One more thing, you were right about the magic taking a toll on him. He's going to start to weaken eventually and if they manage to take all of his magic, well…you know what happens."

The stories of witches dying painful deaths from the loss of their magic flashed through her mind and Lucy's hands clenched. She wouldn't let that happen to Natsu. She couldn't. At that moment, as if he could read her mind, he texted her, yet another picture of Happy.

good morning, here's an adorable picture to brighten your day!

Lucy smiled, the corners of her mouth twitching. She couldn't let him die.

After a couple of hours of hanging out with Levy and discussing possible books to look into, as well as some library gossip Levy was always happy to supply, Lucy headed home. The sun was a little more visible and the weak sunlight warmed her bones a little. Humming a light tune, she didn't see that Natsu had responded to her text from an hour before until she got home.

Tossing her gym bag onto her kitchen counter, she dug around in her fridge for some yogurt. She opened up the text, spoon in hand as she scanned the message.

bad news or good news? either way, dinner at my place to talk about it? my shift will be over by then

Lucy felt a thrill run down her spine at the thought. She shot a glance at the clock, which read 12:03 and mentally calculated how long she would need to shower and appear effortlessly not-goblin-like. If Natsu saw her putting effort into what was definitely not a date, he would tease her endlessly. Her bottom lip pouted out as she thought, spooning yogurt into her mouth before she used her thumbs to type out a response.

Sure. What time?

Lucy bit her lip, eyeing the message. She knew she was purposely avoiding the first part of his text. She watched her phone with a sort of anxiety she hadn't felt in a while. She wasn't really the "wait by the phone" girl. But she waited hungrily, grabbing a banana to munch on. He was a slower texter, she had come to find out, which was fine except it made her nervous. Her phone buzzed, interrupting her thoughts, and she snatched it with almost embarrassing glee.

7:30?

Grinning, she sent back an affirmative. She grabbed her bag and jogged upstairs to take a nice hot shower, already anticipating the relief it would bring to her strained muscles. As her bathroom mirror fogged up with the warming water, she combed her hair out and contemplated her wardrobe. Were jeans a good choice? Should she wear a sweater or a nice blouse? What should she do with her hair? Were earrings too much?

Scrubbing at her hair thoroughly did not succeed in getting the not-date out of her mind and in a huff she decided she'd have to text Levy to see what she thought. It had been a date-like request, hadn't it?

Levy was usually calmer about these things; she didn't get excited and while she was an avid researcher and analyst, she had a surprising ability to not overthink things.

Wrapping a towel around her body and another around her head, she rubbed a face mask onto her skin, making faces at herself in the mirror. She giggled and made her way downstairs for lunch and a needed conversation with Levy. She filled up her water bottle, taking a long sip before she checked her phone, which was still on her counter. Her phone showed her she had a message from Natsu and she opened it quickly, surprised. What else was there to discuss? Did he need her to bring something?

it's a date ;)

She hated herself for the way she choked on her water as her face burned.

No!

Lucy pulled at her sweater, tugging it down a little more and adjusting her amulet nervously. She shifted the box in her hands and reached an absent hand down to stroke Plue's head, who pressed up against her touch, tongue lolling. Her hands twitched with the urge to check her makeup just one last time despite the fact she was outside his door already. She couldn't hear anything from inside and was contemplating knocking again when the door suddenly flew open and she was confronted by Natsu's bright face.

"Luce!" he cried, ushering her in quickly. The nickname he had given her did something funny to her insides. She stepped inside with a nervous smile, not sure where to look or what to say. Natsu wasn't the kind of person who appreciated banal pleasantries.

Lucy was nearly put off by just how happy he was to see her, in all honesty. But it was true they hadn't met in a few days and she did have news of his condition. That had to be it.

His apartment, she was pleasantly surprised to find, was clean and comfortable. There were a few dishes in his sink but otherwise, it was a nice place, a couch and coffee table set up in front of an expensive TV. The kitchen was spacious enough for an apartment and Lucy laughed inwardly at the sleek, polished wood kitchen table with no chairs. He was clearly still moving in.

Her attention, however, was claimed by a blue cat winding around her ankles, mrrowing loudly enough to be heard over Natsu fussing with the TV remote, wondering aloud what to watch. Plue merely watched as Happy vied for her attention, paying no attention to the huge wolf-dog in its house. Lucy smiled and bent to stroke him, giggling as he let out a loud, rumbling purr.

"Hello, Happy, we meet at last," she laughed. Natsu watched proudly for a few moments before taking the box from her, opening it with a low whistle. He had apparently decided on a movie, one she recognized as full of epic fight scenes and a lot of blood.

"You weren't kidding when you said you were a good baker," he murmured reverently. Lucy snickered at the way his eyes glazed over at the sight of the cake. The man's heart really could be reached through his stomach.

"Dinner first," she answered, closing the box and waving a finger in his face. "Lord knows it wouldn't spoil your appetite, but it will spoil mine."

"Aye, cap'n," Natsu joked, making a sweeping gesture toward his coffee table, where white boxes of takeout remained unopened. "Your feast awaits, as promised."

Lucy was already bending to sit on the ground in between the table and the couch, reaching for the chopsticks.

"I'm starving," she hummed. Natsu grinned, taking his place next to her and opting for a fork.

"I hope this place is as good as you say it is," he said. Two pieces of chicken were already on their way to his mouth and Lucy watched with hungry anticipation to see his reaction. The takeout place she had suggested after Natsu sheepishly admitted he didn't have any food to cook was one of the best in Magnolia. It was a favorite spot among her friends as it was so close to their favorite bar as well. They had quite a few stories about the place, most of them Lucy only vaguely remembered.

Natsu chewed, eyes fluttering shut as a sinful moan escaped him. Lucy smirked.

"This is," he breathed, spooning rice and noodles onto his plate and practically dumping a whole carton of chicken on there as well. "The best thing my tongue has ever tasted."

Lucy snickered.

"Told you," she said triumphantly. She bit into her egg roll, stifling her own pathetic whimper. She hadn't eaten there in too long; the food was more delicious than she remembered.

They munched happily in silence, Natsu's eyes trained on the movie while Lucy flickered nervous eyes to him and the whole apartment. There were a few pictures on the wall, which she guessed were his family, and his TV stand was stacked with DVD's and a few video games she didn't recognize.

"So," he started casually, eyes sliding to her, mouth still full of food. She wrinkled her nose and he swallowed before he spoke again, grinning at her wolfishly.

"What's this news you had for me?"

Lucy took her time chewing, avoiding his eyes, fighting the urge to lie and say everything was fine, it's okay. Anything to keep that smile on his face. The smile that looked like it could light up a city.

Sucking in a breath, she swallowed and flashed him a nervous smile.

"Not great news," she admitted quietly before launching in what Levy had told her, abridged version. She still wasn't quite ready to tell him he could be dying. Natsu listened carefully, food still making it to his mouth as he did so. At the end, Lucy waited for his reaction, picking at her cuticles. He didn't appear overly concerned as his brow furrowed in thought.

"I haven't had anything stolen from me, though," he finally muttered, staring hard at an empty takeout box.

"Are you sure?" Lucy blurted out. Her stomach clenched. If he hadn't had anything stolen from him, then what could it possibly be fueling the spell?

"Yeah," he answered. "It has to be important to me, right? I'd definitely know if something important to me was stolen but I can't think of anything."

Lucy frowned. She was missing something. She knew it, searching frantically for the answer in her own scattered thoughts. What was it?

"You're on good terms with your family, right?" she asked hesitantly. Implicating his family was risky but they were likely suspects. They knew him best and knew how to attack him best.

Natsu nodded frantically. "We're pretty close. My older brother doesn't talk to us anymore, but it wasn't because of bad blood or anything. A lot of stuff happened and he needed space." His eyes darkened ever so slightly and the corners of his mouth turned down.

Lucy briefly considered digging deeper but decided against it. She didn't know him well enough to do that kind of prying without offending or coming off as pushy. She glanced at Natsu, who was watching her with a curious expression on his face. She tilted her head, lips pursed.

"What?" she asked.

"His girlfriend died," Natsu blurted out, cheeks coloring ever so slightly. "She was murdered. Pretty brutally, and the police never found who did it. It hit him hard, he loved her a lot, you know?"

Lucy blinked.

"Why're you telling me this?" she frowned.

"I know you wouldn't ask, because you're pretty respectful but, I dunno, I wanted you to know," Natsu mumbled, scratching at the back of his head and averting his eyes.

"I guess I just trust you. Not sure why, I haven't known you long, but you're really nice and kinda scary and weird but you're also smart. And you're tryna help me and everything so, yeah," he babbled before clamping his mouth shut.

Lucy felt a blush crawl up her cheeks. She turned her eyes away as well, pretty positive that if she made eye contact with him in that moment she'd want to do something she may regret.

"Thank you," she muttered.

"For what?"

"Trusting me." She turned her eyes back, smiling softly at the confusion in his face. "It's not easy, but I'm glad you trust me."

The slow, sure smile that spread across his face lit up the world.

#fairy tail #nalu #gajevy #jerza #fairy tail fanfiction #fanfiction #my writing #incatantatrix #chapter 3 #text

[genogenocrazycatman]

Stillwater - Chapter 2

Stillwater [Archive of Our Own, FanFiction.Net, Mibba]

Characters: Original Female Character, Monkey D. Luffy, Rorona Zoro, Vinsmoke Sanji, Nami, Usopp, Tony Tony Chopper, Nefeltari Vivi

***

"We build as only children know to build

We made a way where there's a will

No slowing down or standing still

Innocent and reckless

"How did we get so old and never notice

How did we gain the world and lose the moment

Rise and fall, the tide surrounds us

And drowns us all"

-Hands Like Houses

***

I woke up to the sounds and smells of food being prepared. I opened my eyes and found that I was laying on a mat on the floor of, what looked like, a kitchen. It also housed the steering, which I found slightly odd. Then again, nothing about this crew, especially their captain, had struck me as normal.

I sat up and groaned, cracking my neck.

“Look who’s up. Careful now. It’s only been a few days, and your ribs were pretty messed up.”

A few days had done wonders for my ribs. Where before they were a source of pain, I now felt nothing, aside from the stiffness of my muscles.

“I’m okay,” I assured the blonde. “Sanji right?”

“Yes, but you can call me whatever you want, my beautiful princess!”

Again with the heart eyes. I shook my head. This guy was either going to make a fantastic husband to some lucky girl, or some devil woman was going to eat him alive. Right now, it looked like there was a 50/50 chance that it could go either way.

“You’re the cook, I take it?”

“Yeah,” he answered. He still had that overly affectionate aura about him, but it seemed to go down a notch. At least for the time being that is. “Someone has to make sure that those idiots out there don’t starve.”

Despite his insulting words and annoyed tone, it was evident to me that he genuinely cared about his crewmates.

“A few days,” I repeated. “What’d I miss?”

A few days didn’t seem like a lot of time, but it was enough. After all, the whole world could change in one second. A few days provided plenty of opportunities.

Sanji explained everything that had happened, since we fled Logue Town. There had been a storm, we’d traveled over Reverse Mountain, been inside a massive whale, befriended the whale, Laboon, and his care taker.

I shook my head. ‘Join a pirate crew and leave them hanging, because I’m unconscious. Of course.’

“I know it may seem impossible considering that I slept through all that, but you can wake me up. You should’ve woke me up. I would’ve helped.”

“You were hurt. Anyways, it doesn’t matter. We had it under control.”

He faced me again, handing me a fork.

“Here. Try this.”

One the end of the fork was what appeared to be the most perfectly crafted bite of fish with some delicately placed vegetable on top. I didn’t even know that a bite could look that good. When I told my siblings to test something for me, it was usually a hastily scooped up bite on a spoon that was nearly falling off. This looked like it could be in one of those magazines and it was just a taste test. I didn’t even know that you could make a bite look pretty, but he managed.

I popped it into my mouth. My eyes widened in surprise. It was ten times better than it looked. “Holy hell! This is amazing!”

The hearts were back. “Why thank you, my princess. I-“

“Sanji, this whole “princess,” “beautiful,” thing isn’t necessary. Just call me Mira. That’s what everyone else does.”

I realized that his compliments and affections were just part of his nature, but still found it strange. Back home, I was blood related to about 75% of the people living there. Another 15% were in-laws. Not that I had ever been looking, but the pool of potential partners was shallow, and the number of people who flirted with me was a big fat 0.

Even, when I left for supply runs, I was nothing special. I chose to look that way. I was short at 5’5” with choppy black hair that barely touched my shoulders. My frame was slender with hints of muscle. I didn’t bother with makeup or flashy clothes. I wore jeans, t-shirts, and sneakers. The point was to not draw attention to myself.

“Whatever you say, my dearest Mira.”

Not a 100% right, but it was a step in the right direction.

“Are you almost done?” I asked. “I’ll help you serve.”

“You don’t-“

“I want to help,” I told him, standing up.

“But your injuries-“

I pulled the wrapping off and stretched, side to side and touched my toes. “What injuries?”

His eyes widened in surprise. “How-“

“Girl’s got to have her secrets,” I said, smirking.

I didn’t particularly want to expose how quickly I healed. I didn’t want to expose any of my abilities, not really. I would if it was necessary. In Logue Town, I had almost done so, but lucked out. If I had faked it though, that would’ve meant that would’ve had to sit on my ass and be useless for weeks, and that I couldn’t take.

Sanji didn’t press the issue, opting instead to plate up all the food, splitting the dishes between us evenly. (After I had scolded him for trying to get me to carry one little plate and nothing else.)

“You alright?” he asked as we started out towards the others.

“This is nothing. You should see what happens, when my aunt, Cal, declares a family dinner.”

We had almost reached them, when the other girl on board, Nami, as Sanji had informed me, let out a scream. Sanji moved with unnatural speed towards her. I followed behind at a normal pace.

“What’s the matter, Nami, my sweet?” he asked.

I peered from behind him at the stressed navigator.

“If it’s food, you’re worried about, it’s ready!”

I really doubted that it was food she was worried about, if her face was anything to go by.

“Oh? Meal time?”

The guy with the long nose climbed up and joined the group.

“Usopp?” I doubled checked to make sure I had it right.

“That’s me, Captain Usopp, leader of the Usopp Pirates, a deadly sniper with no rival! My name is infamous all across the East Blue!”

I nodded taking all that in.  It was obvious that he was lying, but who was I to break the fantasy. I was still of the mindset that I could sail as part of a pirate crew.

“Th- the compass is broken!” Nami exclaimed, distraught. “It doesn’t point in any direction.”

I looked at the compass, watching as it spun and spun and spun, just like all the other ones that I had seen.

I set down the food. “It’s not broken,” I assured her. “It’s just useless.”

“Useless?!”

“The girl’s right,” an old man said.

I assumed he was the one who took care of the whale. I was caught off guard by his appearance, most notably the petals around his head. Outside of the papers I hadn’t seen a single one of Roger’s men, since they left my home. Now, I had seen two in a short amount of time.  I didn’t comment on this, however. I wasn’t sure, if he wanted them to know about his past, and I didn’t want to explain how I knew he was one of Roger’s.

“Looks like you guys came here with no knowledge. For heaven’s sake! Did you come here to die?”

“What?” Nami asked.

Luffy was focused on the food. “Meal.”

“Feed, in your case,” Sanji snipped.

“I thought I told you that common sense is useless in this sea. It’s not that that compass is broken.”

“Hm? Then, could it be that the magnetic fields are-“

“You pick up quick,” I praised.

“That’s right. The islands in the Grand Line contain lots of magnetic minerals; because of this they cause various abnormalities throughout the Grand Line. Furthermore, the current and the winds don’t have constancy. If you’re a navigator, you should know how scary that is.”

“It’s true that if we don’t have any way of knowing our direction, it’s hopeless.”

“Not entirely,” I cut in. “You need a log pose. It’s kind of like a compass, but instead of pointing to the North, it points you to the next island. Once you get there, it adjusts to that island’s magnetic field and then points you to the next, but it’s tricky, because once you set down one chain of islands, it’s nearly impossible to change course.”

“How do you know all this?” Sanji asked.

“I guess I never properly introduced myself. My apologies. That was rude. I’m Zale Mira Kai, but most people just call me Mira. I’m from the second half of the Grand Line, the New World.”

“Mira’s our expert. We’re going to take her home after we find the One Piece,” Luffy said around a mouth full of tuna.

“Really? How’d you end up in Logue Town?” Usopp asked.

“Long story. Any ways my log pose was in my bag, but I don’t know if it survived the abuse it went through back in Logue Town, but I can go check.”

“Please,” Nami practically begged.

“Is it something like this?” Luffy asked, holding up a log pose.

“That’s exactly it,” I said, taking it from him and giving it a good look over. It was the real thing.

“Luffy? How come you have one?!” Nami punched Luffy in the face.

“Those two weirdoes dropped it on the ship.”

“They did?”

“Why did you hit me?” Luffy whined.

“Just going with the flow.”

I snorted out a laugh.

“Oh the flow?”

I handed the log pose to Nami.

“So this is the log pose. There’s no dial face.”

“There are only even routes that you can follow on the Grand Line. They all lead to Raftel, the last point. The only one in history, who confirmed that, is the King of the Pirates. It’s a legendary island,” the old man explained further.

“Raftel…”

“Then the One Piece is there?”

“Who knows? That’s the most prominent theory, but no one has been able to reach there.”

“We’ll know, once we get there.”

The old man’s reaction was a lot like mine, when I had met Luffy. I could see it in his eyes. He felt it too.

“Now that I’m done eating, can we go?”

“Did you eat this all by yourself?!” Sanji yelled.

I laughed. “Boy you’ve got one hell of an appetite.”

Nami was still in awe of the log pose. “Log pose, huh? We have to take good care of this. This is the key to our journey.”

“You damn rubber man! I wanted Nami… I wanted Nami to eat more!”  Sanji whipped around and kicked Luffy in the gut, sending him flying.

“You are quite the aggressive bunch.”

Luffy went flying past Nami, shattering the log pose.

Both Sanji and Nami received kicks for their troubles straight into the ocean.

“Wasn’t that extremely important?” Usopp said, panicking.

“Our precious log pose…”

“Don’t panic. I’ll give you mine,” the old man said.

I was trying to remember his name, but was coming up empty. I knew the face. I could picture him all those years ago, much younger. I was pretty sure he was the doctor for the crew.

“I wanna thank you guys for Laboon too.”

I ran over to the ledge. “He ate a devil fruit and you kicked him into the sea?” I asked incredulously.

I could vaguely see their shadows under the water.

“He’ll be fine,” Nami grumbled. “If you’re so concerned, go in and get him.”

“I can’t,” I said flatly.

“You eat a devil fruit too, Mira?” Usopp asked.

I froze, the question catching me off guard.

Laboon tossed Sanji, Luffy and two others up onto land.

I breathed out a sigh of relief for both their safety and the distraction. “Thanks, Laboon.”

I hadn’t had time to plan for this, to get my story straight, what I could do, what I couldn’t, how, why. I’d been fairly vague about everything so far, but questions were going to be asked and in order for trust to be established they were going to need answers.

Then again did it matter I they trusted me, if it was based on a lie?

I glanced back at Usopp. “The drip drip fruit,” I answered.

It was an easy answer, and it would buy me some time.

“Ah… I thought I’d die.”

I shook my head at Luffy.

Sanji stood up and headed towards the female of the pair of strangers. “Here, take my hand, honey.” He kneeled down and offered her a helping hand.

“Oh, thank you.”

“Nice day, isn’t it?”

“Hey,” the guy called. “We have a favor to ask.”

We all gathered around the table to hear their request.

The pair were apparently the ones that had attempted to kill Laboon that Sanji had told me about. Needless to say they weren’t on anyone’s good side. I hadn’t been there, so I didn’t harbor the same ill will, but I also had no attachments to them.

They wanted us to take them to their home, Whisky Peak, since their ship was busted and they were without a log pose.

They begged us to take them back, giving us false praise. It was a rather pathetic display and utterly transparent.

“You can ride with us,” Luffy decided.

“What!?” the pair echoed each other

Nami and Usopp looked shocked too.

“Did you say Whisky Peak? Let’s go there.”

“You realize if we set that course we’re stuck on it right?” I asked.

I had no objections. I simply wanted to make sure that my captain understood, what he was getting into. Not that I thought it mattered. Logic and forethought didn’t seem to be a large part of Luffy’s decision making process.

“We’re going out of our way to take these shadowy people?”

“What’s the problem?” Luffy asked. “Don’t worry about the small things.”

The old man- Crocus! Crocus reiterated my point.

“If we don’t like it, then we can go around one more time.”

“I see…”

“Now, can we go? Now I’ve made a promise with the whale. Let’s get ready to set sail.”

“Who on Earth are you?” the girl, Ms. Wednesday, asked.

“Me? I’m gonna be King of the Pirates.”

The two chuckled and muttered under their breath.

“You’re laughing at his ambitions. You two had a much less lofty goal, and you both failed,” I reminded them, keeping my tone casual.

They stopped laughing, looking embarrassed.

“You two aren’t on the ship yet. Something could very easily happen, and you could be left behind. You know as well as I do that the chances of you swimming from any island to the next and making it there alive are slim to none.”

They paled.

I turned on my heel and followed the others.

“I doubt that Luffy would just leave them,” Usopp told me.

“Oh I know. I got that vibe from him, but they don’t know that.”

Usopp chuckled. “You’re evil,” he teased.

I shrugged. “Runs in my family.”

We readied the ship. The pose was already set, so once we were done, it was time to set sail. Crocus and Laboon saw us off.

“To which Whisky Peak full speed ahead!”

It was a light feeling, when we left. A mixture of glee, excitement and anticipation, given life through laughter and smiles.

It was contagious, and squashed any worries I had about the journey ahead of us. I knew that this wasn’t going to be easy. The waters ahead were violent, filled with danger and darkness, which is why I held onto this moment, my first real moment as a member of the crew.

***

Notes: Hello, readers.

A few things

1.) While I'm going to address most of the arcs in the series, I'm not going to go over them all. The big ones will all be included, but some of the filler and whatever id going to be skipped over. I'll probably just find a way to take Mira out and have her do something else. It's not because it's too much, but it's because sometimes there's just no room for another character, sometimes Mira won't fit the situation and some times I just don't like the arc and don't want to write it. Just being honest.

2.) Logue Town and Reverse Mountain are fairly short arcs (especially, when you only write a small part of them), so they can be single chapters. Don't worry that I'm going to try to fit all of Alabasta into one chapter.

3.) This is going to take a lot longer to update. As I said I didn't have very much content to go through for Logue Town and Reverse Island, but my writing process for a fic like this is basically. Go back and watch the part I'm writing again, very vaguely plan it out and then go back and write it, so that I can hit all the right beats. It takes time.

I hoped you enjoyed this chapter. I promise that you will eventually get answers, actually in the grand scheme of this fic, they'll come fairly soon.

***

Previous | Next

***

Master List | Mobile Version

#teroin writes #stillwater #one piece #fanfiction

[freuleinanna]

In the darkness you will hide

Another thing I tried to translate. Love me some Norma(n). Any correstions/suggestions are welcome.

Norman’s four. The only thing he comprehends is that everything’s dark around him, and that his mother’s perfume can’t cover the smell of old things. His nose is itching, and he really wants to sneeze, but mother asked him to be quiet as a mouse, so Norman just buries his face in her hair a bit deeper. What he knows is that they’re hiding inside a big old closet and playing some sort of a game. Mother’s kneeling beside him, his chin is on her shoulder, and they’re holding each other. He puts his best into breathing as quietly as he can. So does she.

‘Shh, honey’ he hears her muddled tremble of a whisper at his ear. ‘Shh, honey, be quiet’.

The sound of something being loudly crushed comes from outside the doors along with muttered cursing. Norma shivers, startled. Norman presses his cheek against hers; she’s crying. That doesn’t seem to be such a nice game at all, but mother strokes his hair tenderly, and his worries come away. She whispers something else in a tired, almost begging voice. Some of the words Norman has heard many times before, but never quite understood the meaning. Fucking bastard, just go the hell away. Go away, please. God.

‘NOORMAAAA!’ a slurring drunken roar suddenly breaks through. The next moment Norman feels like the world outside explodes: the bedroom door is kicked open and smashed into the wall with an unimaginable crash, having obscured Norma’s loud gasp. The roar comes nearer, almost deafening them from right outside the closet.

‘NOOOORMAAAAA!!!’

Norman shivers, too, and puts his arms around his mother’s neck. She pulls him closer, holding her palm on his head in a protective gesture, and presses her lips against his shoulder, afraid of betraying their whereabouts with a sob or hectic breathing. They hear something break. Then come the threats to find them, then ‘I swear to God, if you don’t come out right now!..’, then… They hide, even when the bourbon-fueled roars leave the room, followed by the sound of knocked down night stands and shattered photo frames. They stay in the darkness, where nothing exists for Norman, apart from the feeling of his mother’s closeness, her perfume and her whisper, burning his ear.

‘It all gonna be good. It’s all gonna be good, honey. Shhhh.’

Norman’s ten and it’s his birthday. Better yet, Norman’s ten, it’s his birthday, and his father won’t be home. Norma’s hardly able to contain her own joy, when she sneaks into her son’s bedroom to smooch him awake and promises him a real party. Though this party, as always, has to be their secret, so shhh, not a word for now. Norman doesn’t mind. He’s quite used to hiding their happy moments from dad.

Father leaves home some time after noon, so before that Norman is forced to behave as his usual, not-laughing, not-making-loud-noises, not-drawing-attention self. He nearly goes mad, trying not to fidget and look interested in his toys. The clock hands are dead stuck to one place under his hypnotizing stare. He decides to be strong and wait, then he despairs, then mans up and sets on waiting once more only to later think how he’s the most miserable person in the whole wide world – all that within just 2-3 hours. But when mother closes the front door, her radiant smile becomes the best reward for his sufferings. The smile and her laugh, when she swings her arms around him, covering his face with generous kisses. She has an incredible laugh. It’s a pity she never laughs when father’s home.

Exhilarated by their own freedom, they decide to bake a cake. Just like that, fearlessly, knowing that at any other time the idea would have been met with a harsh ‘no’ and a snappy lecture on how they’re not millionaires to be spending money on such ‘dumb shit’. Dylan hears their lively voices and hauls out of his room: a scrawny, dark blond teenager in a rebellious leather jacket that he refuses to take off at home. He leans at the banisters, looking at his mom and little brother from above.

‘You really needn’t ‘ve bothered, you know, my birthday passed like 4 months ago’ he comments on the kitchen fuss with a sarcastic smirk, remembering his own ordinarily crappy ‘special day’. Norma shots a guilty glance at him; dawdles on an answer, cleaning the cream off the spoon with her finger and licking it.

‘Well, you keep telling me how old you are for all this,’ what was meant to be a defense sounds more like an accusation. ‘At least, for Norman it’s still important’.

The teen shakes his head and chuckles, amazed by how many excuses this woman can come up with. He knows, he feels that it’s not about age and that nothing will change as time passes.

‘Whatever, Norma’. He runs down the stairs and out to the street, not caring enough to hold the door behind him. It slams. Norma watches him go with a helpless and discouraged look on her face, thinking how everything just keeps going downhill between her and her eldest son, and Norman hates his brother for that. For stealing his mother’s thoughts. He pulls her apron for attention and doesn’t stop until she’s fully his once again.

And then they celebrate, listen to old records and dance in the living room. Dance in the living room, what an outrageous thing to do! Father would have made a scene, but he’s not there, and they’re stealing a whole evening of happiness together. Their secret.

‘I love you, Norman’. A warm smile pays off any other day when she doesn’t smile.

‘I love you too, mother’.

He likes that formal ‘mother’, because Dylan always tries to come off so independent and grown up by calling her by her name. Norman thinks it’s stupid, but then again, he’s quite content to be the only one who calls Norma ‘mother’. That’s a nice feeling. It means he doesn’t have to share her with anybody.

Norman’s almost eighteen, and his temple is pierced with a sharp pain, as if someone’s drilling into his head. It’s cold in the basement, but he’s hot with anger. Tools are quivering in his hands. The half-finished work annoys him with its half-finished-ness, and he desperately wants to stab it with blades and throw into the garbage. Norman manages to keep calm. Right until he hears her.

‘Honestly, you can be so possessive sometimes’.

Irrigated voice comes from the top of the stairs. Oh, he knows how mother just can’t leave it be until she pours it all down on him, even if he gives up answering. They’ve been teasing each other mercilessly the whole day, and both are rather wound up. The invisible drill pierces his temple once more. Norman’s grip on the scalpel toughens slowly, his knuckles whiten.

‘Why, because you’re obviously never possessive, Mother’, he knaps every word loudly, with a sarcastic smile.

He hears an angry scoff, and then Norma drums her heels down the stairs; lips are rouged and tightened, eyes glaring. She herself feels that one more word and they’re going to find themselves in the middle of yet another fight, and she doesn’t want that, but her son’s overly friendly voice gets the best of her. Truth be told, sometimes she’d just prefer raging it all out in an argument than endlessly mocking each other. At least, she’s good at screaming.

‘You know what, Norman,’ her finger points at his chest in an accusing gesture, ‘if ever I gave you shit about your girlfriends, I…’

Norman bursts into nervous, shrieking laughter so loudly, that she halts in mid-sentence and leans back a little.

‘Oh no, Mother,’ he spreads his hands and smiles tensely, still holding the sharp instrument. ‘I’m the last person to come into your consideration. It’s so much easier to drive a couple of girls away for good by yourself, isn’t it? A couple of girls who just wanted to be friendly with an idiot who moved to this godforsaken place!’

Why on earth did he remember them now? Ah, what does it matter! She treats him like a silly boy, and the way she dismisses his words with a wave of her hand just makes Norman all the more furious.

‘Oh please, Norman, I know exactly what’s going on in their heads at this age!’

The distorted smile fades completely, and Norman smashes the scalpel onto the table. Then, putting his trembling hands in pockets, he walks around it and comes up to his mother, all straightened up and tense as a stretched string.

‘Well, I know men, Mother,’ he leans down to her from his height in a somewhat confiding way, as if letting her in on a secret. ‘And I know what they’re thinking of when they look at you.’

Norma seems to shrink under his stare, feeling his words form an unpleasant clump inside her stomach. Somehow, they disturb her. She wants to snap and show him that it’s not that easy to shake her self-control, but she feels vulnerable even in her attacking pose of preference, with her fist on her hip. The sharp Well, then, enlighten me, by all means! never leaves her lips. However, the cocky comment is, perhaps, reflected on her face, as Norman holds her shoulders and looks into her eyes.

‘They look at a wonderful, clever, funny woman, but ultimately want just one thing from you,’ he’s almost pitiful. ‘I just don’t want you to get hurt’.

His words hit the nerves. Norma scans her son’s face for a while as if trying to see who gave him the right to say these harsh, truthful things, and then fights his hands off. Though, to do this last one, she has to struggle quite a bit.

‘Why, Norman? Why do you think I’ll necessarily get hurt? Why is it that you can only see disasters everywhere?’

‘Because no one will ever love you like I do, Mother.’

She’s only able to let out a helpless sigh, not even knowing what her answer could possibly be. Her lips try to form the beginning of a phrase, but the phrase itself gets lost and sounds refuse her control. She’s confused, as if for the first time realizing that simple truth that has been growing between them this whole time. She doesn’t even have energy to argue. She doesn’t want to, really. That would be pointless. Instead, she gives up a staring contest, shakes her head and fetches her phone. Norman rolls his eyes, taking it to be another one of her phenomenal and endless means to ignore reality.

‘Now, what are you doing?’

‘Cancelling the crap outta it’, goes snarky reply.

He grins sarcastically, almost with regret.

‘Don’t be so dramatic, Mother. It’s a date night! Why would you cancel?’ he asks and then meets her look. The long, the what-did-I-ever-do-to-you-that-you’re-breaking-me-like-this kind.

‘That’s why, Norman’, she vaguely points from him to herself and back at him, and repeats his words slowly. ‘That’s why, because no one will ever love me like you do, will they?’

She sighs heavily as Norman observes her. Then blurts out the rest of it, the words that she doesn’t even wanna stop anymore, she’s that tired of thinking them and never bringing it up.

‘Norman, I think-- I think we’ve been together for so long, we’ve loved each other for so long, that maybe-- I don’t know, maybe we’re both a little bit in love’.

A long pause occurs. Then Norman comes closer and wraps her in his arms, part-making, part-letting Norma rest her head at the crook of his neck and clutch at his shoulders from behind. Then he sways her a little, and hides his unsure smile in her hair.

‘Maybe we are, Mother.’

Norman’s nineteen and he’s in complete and utter darkness. His eyes are closed, but even if he opened them, he wouldn’t see a thing. He doesn’t want to, either. This darkness has such a familiar flair to it that being afraid becomes unnecessary, he remembers it from childhood. It has his mother’s arms swung around his neck, her wavy breath and her intermittent mantra. Shh, honey. Norman reaches to kiss her neck. Turns out, the perfume he loved so much as a child wasn’t perfume at all, but the scent of her skin.

He knows he’s impatient. Norma’s hand, half into his hair, tightens its grip as she tries to hold him down a bit, driving her nails at his skin. Shh, honey. Easy. He slows down obediently but then, unable to contain himself, lowers his head to kiss her collarbones and that soft, pulsating place in between, and he could swear he hears a smile in her little rhythmic gasps. Norman wants to be closer still, hold her tighter. His one arm holds the weight of his body over hers, with the other he draws her to himself, hand flat on her back. Neither can really be moved, so he traces the tip of his nose up her neck to brush locks of hair aside and kisses her right under the ear – something he just recently learned she likes so much. Norma gives out a voiced sigh. Sure, she figured out all those pleasant little tricks a long time ago, but now they turned into theirs. Their little secret, like when Norman was little.

A distant street-lamp colours the room amber. Norman opens his eyes, but still sees only broken kaleidoscopic pictures. Honey gleams in his mother’s hair. Her half-closed eyes, half-opened lips. He covers them with his – the darkness has a warm taste. Norma doesn’t really try to hold him down anymore. Quick and hungry kisses mix with attempts to gulp some air, each touch is a grip. The desire of closeness tosses and turns on the inside, expanding immensely and threatening to break the rib cage. Embraces are so tight and greedy, as if their lives depend on them.

‘I love you, Norman.’ ‘I love you too, Mother.’

Fingers, buried in hair. The scent of heated skin.

‘I love you so much.’

Norman’s twenty-three. He knows that as a manager he simply must leave the house and go down to the motel, but he doesn’t want to. Bad things happen when he leaves.

‘Don’t be silly, Norman. Who do you reckon should clean the rooms, then?’

He gives her a gloomy look from under his eyebrows and fumbles with a bunch of keys. Norma is standing by the stairs leaning at banisters, all groomed up, full of light and brooking no contradictions.

‘We don’t have any guests, Mother’ he tries to protest, but she won’t have a word of it.

‘What does it matter if we don’t? Guest’ll come, and what then is gonna come out of our reputation when we have to put them in God knows when made rooms?’

We don’t have any reputation either, Norman wants to say, because no one even knows about us, we’re so far aside from the main road. But he knows that this discussion is only going to end up with him feeling guilty about not respecting Mother’s business and trying to make up for it. Thus, he tries to get at it from another angle.

‘Mother, I really don’t want to go and leave you alone in the house.’

‘Norman, honey,’ she smiles softly, comes closer and laces her fingers with his. ‘I’m not going anywhere. I’m always gonna wait for you here, okay?’

He can’t resist her when she’s like this. He can’t resist her altogether, and, to her content, he sighs and nods. Without taking his eyes off her, as if he can’t get enough, he squeezes her hands in his.

‘I love you, Mother.’

She flashes a soft amorous smile and reaches to give him a peck of a kiss on the corner of his lips.

‘I love you too, Norman’.

He walks at the porch with a heavy heart and in a sullen mood. Doesn’t want to look back, but looks anyway: the sun is so bright that there seems to be nothing behind the door glass but the bleak darkness. Voiceless. Empty. Norman jerks his shoulders and turns his back on the door, crumpling a pile of fresh towels in hands. He hates leaving the house because outside it gets so much harder to forget that Norma is long gone. He hates the feeling of her loss. It claws at his insides like the feeling of a nightmare that you keep having but never quite remember.

Thus, making a run down the steps, Norman sets himself firmly at returning as soon as possible to the calmness of the only place where he’s not torn apart by nightmares and staying there. And he’s just as sure that this place is with his Mother.

Always with Mother.

#something i wrote #before season 5 premiere #nsfw? #bates motel #soul bates #norma bates #norman bates #norma x norman

[rowanartist]

Fan Fiction Quotes 2018:

"'Interplanet Janet' is part of why I became an astrophysicist," Jane says." [X]

"Castiel, angel of the lord, has knitted a fully functional winter hat, and Dean doesn’t seem to be offended by it."[X]Tumblr

"you look like you could use either a hug or a mercy killing. And I don’t wanna get blood on this knife, I just cleaned it.”[Tumblr post]

"Oh, no, you don't. Not in my lab. This lab is an intimacy-free zone, it says so on the door. Does it? I'm putting a sign on that door. Get out of my lab, ingrates. Don't make me sic the robots on you.""[X]lol

"You guys? I'm serious. Dum-E has a fire extinguisher and you know how he loves using it...""[X]and then they ran gleefully

"He has to admit it’s a pretty magnificent feeling, on top of everything else today, to know that Steve will take care of him, whatever he needs."[X]not my thing, and yet the emotion/caring involved appeals to me...

"Steve, I know this is hard for you to believe, because you’re a pretty hardcore martyr, but I and a lot of other people love you and we want to take care of you. You’re not a burden."[X]you are not a burden. "The oatmeal that your loving boyfriend made for you. You should eat it.” He takes a spoonful and holds it in front of Steve. “You want me to make choo choo noises?”"[X]lol, I would not want choo choo noises!

'we said we loved each other. .... And then he force fed me oatmeal.'[X]paraphrased from a companion piece to the last two quotes. The response: "Well, he definitely sounds like a keeper." also: the last cat video

"You know, it’s okay if you are jealous. I know they don’t put that down as one of the attributes on Captain America’s action figure box, but human Steve gets to be jealous and mad and scared sometimes."[X]good thing to remember, just because people have one image of you doesn't mean you aren't allowed to feel other things "remembers hurting all the time. It made everything else fuzzy, harder to deal with. "[X]relatable

"Bucky is so beautiful, with a few lines around his mouth and the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles, those eyes so blue Steve’s searched for years for the right combination of colors and hasn’t been able to replicate the color. "[X]The song "Crayola doesn't make a color for your eyes"! I need to comment this to the author! Done.

"After everything they’ve been through, asking them to carry some of his weight feels selfish."[X]I know the feeling. It's part of why it took me so long to admit I needed any help, stuck on why do I deserve it.

"Steve has always moved slightly left of reality, where he prances like a goddamn circus pony in battle but collapses like a pile of bricks when he’s trying so hard to be sensual."[X]relatable, not the battle part, but sometimes I can be unexpectedly graceful. Unfinished fic because it really wasn't my thing at all.

"Sam’s been a tremendous help to Bucky’s recovery, and at least half of that comes from the way he takes care of Steve, too"[X]Sam does a lot for them

"Bucky had declared, I'm making you a damn sandwich, Steve, and you're gonna eat it, and Steve had shot back, fine, then I'm making you one; pass the bread, jerk."[X]that's a compromise I guess "“Quit blaming yourself,” he commanded. Steve took a drink to avoid answering and Bucky flicked water at him. “Bad soldier,” he scolded, mimicking the animal training show they were a little obsessed with. Steve rolled his eyes."[X]imagine someone with a spray bottle every time Steve got mopey or maytr like.

"Doctors have been telling Steve his problems are all in his head since day one. Bucky doesn’t much care for doctors."[X]relatable on both accounts

"And hell if Tony can deny the cuteness of it all."[X]not much of a stand alone quote but I needed to do something with it!

"Oh, the beanstalk will be to get me in bed, is that it?” Bucky winked. “Won’t take any beanstalk but the one you got between—"[X]lol! Fairytale innuendo! Goofy but fun and a reminder that Snow White came out in their time (that phrasing sounds like she's lesbian or bi)

"Above hangs a calculated grid of fairy lights, punctuated at regular intervals with simple paper lanterns."[X]sounds pretty. I'm a lighting nerd I guess.

"there’s a line between stupid and suicidal, and that’s where i live. "[Tumblr post, under keep reading ] much amusing, and this version of the post gas art ;)

"Hux stared at him, wondering how much more cliche this moment could get, and trying not to blush because he was utterly charmed by it."[ch: 4]it was kinda giving me a almost pretty in pink vibe "Remember, Ben? We were going to pick up some wood for the project, and measure some lengths to make sure everything will fit in the back."[ch X]omg, the innuendo

"But people getting help – real help – to live their lives – it’s easy to think about that being good when it comes to other people. It’s hard thinking about that for yourself."[X]another quote that makes me think of that one Dresden files quote - it really is a common sentiment " It can mean a lot when us mere mortals are feeling particularly down that even those with greater than human capabilities struggle with the same issues."[X]YES!

"upon himself to organize the whole thing, down to bullying the party supply store into making balloon arrangements with a superhero-ballerina-archaeologist theme"[X]draw?

"Kylo, I'm not doing this because I'm ‘dealing with’ you. I love you and I want to be able to you to help you when you need it."[X]good relationship! I kinda like the series?

"Bruce says imperfections are signs of a life well lived."[X]comment

"It was a small square. DOVE PROMISES was emblazoned on the foil. There was chocolate inside, and Bucky took the foil from him and smoothed it out before handing it back. TAKE TIME FOR YOU, it advised him. He gave Bucky a flat look and Bucky started laughing again. Steve couldn’t help how warm the sound made his chest feel."[X]laughter is the best medicine "I want a picture of two great world wonders."[X]awww sweet and cheesy! "[Bucky]“Laughing at a guy’s insults. You born in a barn or something?” [Steve]“I’m not the one whose last name is Barnes."[X]lol! "“I got it from Dr. Dove,” Steve admitted, and he didn’t hide the smile that stole across his face at Bucky’s laugh."[X]what he got: “Well, I can’t change the past,” he said. “But I can enjoy the present.” "Well, when you think literally everything is your fault, it makes you pull out those sad puppy eyes, and then the rest of us have to deal with feeling like we’re the reason Captain America looks like a golden retriever who just got yelled at. Asshole."[X]that's how caring about people can make you an unpleasant person. "“Can you hold these?” Bucky asked, pushing the souvenir bag into one of Steve’s hands. “And this?” He put his hand in Steve’s other hand."[X]these being souvenirs

"Steven, dearest, hath thee any 5s?"[X]while playing Go Fish and batting his eyelashes.

"It suits all of them, he thinks but doesn’t say, this trio held together by duct tape and determination and a hell of alot of target practice."[X]Clint, Kate and Lucky the dog.

"Another is a nude, Sherlock in one of his favorite sitting poses with one knee up and his hands wrapped around it, the other leg dangling toward the floor. "[X]the imagery/pose

"Sweet, studious, nervous little Mitaka. Who would never stand head and shoulder above anyone. Who would never take undue risks or tell your secrets. Reasonable, reliable Dopheld Mitaka. Who would never get mad or lash out and always react with kindness and understanding and who could never be impolite and always got the job done. Never thought of himself first. Who only got ahead in life when others failed. Who would always sit quietly and never argue. Never fight back. Never do anything special but who was always useful in his own way until you grew tired of him. Who would never argue when you decided to move on from him. Always stayed down after you’d thrown him there. Who always did the right thing and would never be worth anyone’s."[ch:1]you're such a good listener *bitter feeling*

"he said it was the most painful thing he’d ever felt, the supersoldier easy bake experience included. "[X]very amusing tumblr!

"You are far too modest, my little lightning sister."[X]Thor has some great compliments! "Tony, remember how we talked about the importance of using your words instead of doing weird megalomaniac billionaire things? This was one of those times."[X]i love fan fiction giving us more Darcy!! "Brucie! You know all those times you told us that you weren’t a medical doctor? This is going to be another one of those times where we ignore you."[X]lol "You’re saying that because you think I’ll balance out Steve, aren’t you? I get to be good cop to his bad cop. The fun aunt to his stick-in-the-mud dad routine."[X]hell yeah!

"But [Ben] also learned some less practical things from Artoo.” [Stick that in your dataport and process it!]"[X]nanny C3PO and bad influence R2D2

" quiet of the corridor had begun to make Hux’s ears ring with phantom static"[X]thanks for the words! (As I experience this as I read instead of sleep with a headache.

"I’m sulking, Ren. It’s remarkable you don’t recognize it in another person."[X]sass!

"I’ll add you to the list of approved pillows."[X]cute, sweet and funny fic! Also, check out the author's other Darcy fics! "Good morning to my favorite terrifyingly competent duo, reunited once more."[X]comment

"Hux: "Hey, Kylo, are you sure you're not of the Light Side?" Kylo: "Yes, why?!" Hux: "Because you blind me every time I look at you.""[X]cheesy flirting

" i figured, if she could keep tony from accidentally getting himself killed while rocketing around in a stainless steel onesie, she can talk steve into occasionally actually using a parachute. "[X]bribing Pepper to scold National heroes...

"Bucky looks. He looks for what feels like five solid minutes. Steve’s mind can be a strange place, and it’s not always easy to see where he gets his ideas"[X]my boyfriend can probably relate to this "Except Bucky is almost sure Joseph Rogers never wrapped himself in the American flag and went out to lift a car. Definitely not a shiny red convertible with a license plate that reads CAPTAM, and three chorus girls beaming from the open roof."[X]to draw. "Howling Commandos—they called us Captain America’s legendary strike force, though I really must say that we were just a rabble of con artists with no sense of self-preservation—he was right there next to Steve."[X]yep "But for the record, I like the idea of a smart, scrawny kid living on his wits a lot more than a super-fast, super-strong, deathless demi-god. I relate to that a hell of a lot "[X]comment "Steve might not see reds and greens exactly right, but he’s got all his paint tubes and coloured pencils labelled with painstaking care, and his mathematical mind processes RGB values and hexadecimal codes just fine. "[X]the nerd in me likes this

"but one time he borrowed my dont-touch-me black leather motorcycle jacket and managed to make that look badass for a little while. and then he let a little girl in central park facepaint a sunflower on his left cheek, which pretty much spoiled and sort of badass look he might have been managing. which wasnt much, because he was still wearing khakis."[X]draw

"Knowing that these two men, these goddamned heroes, they love him enough to seehim, enough to take his burden as their own, just for a little while, just so he can rest – it overwhelms him."[X]comment

"Don’t worry. I’ll put him on the stealth team, then only Natasha and Clint’ll have to deal with him, and they’re not afraid to drug a friend."[X]adrenaline leads to talkative Bucky

"Improbably, Parker had found a bag of marshmallows and was using what looked like some kind of electricity-based torture device to toast one over the fire."[X]warning post Leverage finale "Oh, the FBI's giving you grief? Shit, that's no problem. Parker and I are FBI agents."[X]lol

"No stabbity. Social problem, man, you'd hear me yelling if we had a stabbing problem"[X]the joys of having two very different jobs i guess ;)

"Parker put on her red light-up nose and beamed at him, the most lethal reindeer of all."[X]yep! Very Parker - cute and deadly!

"[Peggy Carter is] famous. She’s like the patron saint of women who do things they’re not supposed to do,"[X]comment

"Me and my clockwork boyfriends,” Steve said affectionately. “You two just stay there and charge up; I want round two after breakfast.”"[X]tumblr, copperbadge

"His rumbling, gruff voice warmed Hardison like the artisanal spiced latte he’d perfected for the pub."[X]comment "Just feel how good it is, being together, safe and warm and happy. We’re gonna take good care of you, darlin, love you like you deserve."[X]'really, it’s what the touch means.' "Parker had built such strong defenses, she didn’t know how to crack them."[X]the words! "When it’s just me and Alec, it’s like, I can’t stop thinking. There I am, there he is. I love him, and I want it to be so good, and it can’t be because my brain just goes faster and faster and I can’t feel "[X]words

"Eliot,” he starts, and that’s his gentle voice, the voice he uses on scared clients and Parker when she’s having a melt down."[X]he being Hardison "You’ve left before. We all leave every once in awhile. But you always come back. For us."[X]yeah, sometimes space is needed

"We haven’t fucked in five days and my balls are as blue as Neptune.” “That’s not a description I needed, Barnes,” Sam calls from the open door two flights above them. “Well, blame Steve,” he calls back, “It’s his fucking fault, or his not fucking, really.” "[X]lol

"Steve can barely use Google; Bucky loves Twitter and all things social media. Instagram is the greatest invention in the entire future."[ch1?]where he picked up "as if" "“Ma’am,” is all Bucky can really think to say because he figures this is Wanda and he doesn’t’ like pretty women being afraid of him. Likes it less when they’re practically kids."[ch3]comment "They aren’t afraid of you. They’re afraid of your power being used by someone without your heart.”"[ch3]Awww "Bucky finds himself an empty corner. Sitting against the wall, he pulls his knees to his chest so no one steps on him."[X]relatable

"“And totally lewd.” Yuuri corrects, “anyway, it’s embarrassing.” “Oh, Yuuri.” Sighing, Viktor angles his head to kiss his silly boyfriend. “I’m just trying to get you to see yourself the way I see you." "[X]...

"That explains why Cap keeps looking like a kid lost at a county fair crossed with an angry doberman."[ch1]lol

"Sam, Bucky's been sighted in Budapest, I packed your toothbrush with your socks by accident."[X]comment "Sam's starting to suspect his comic book collection may have lied to him when it came to just how brotherly that relationship was, but hey, no judgement. Only mild concern."[X]comment

"that Bruce is convinced that he deserves about as much trust from everyone else as he gives himself. It’s the difficulty of letting yourself get vulnerable after so many years of being in solitude and having no one."[X]relatable to a degree

"Drachenfutter: (German)- literally “dragon fodder”, the gift a husband gives his wife when he’s trying to make up for bad behavior"[X]dragon fodder is much more fun than dog house! Maybe he's in the dragon den? "“Go on and run yourself out, I’ll meet you on the grass in 45 minutes,” Sam told him. No further prompting needed, Steve took off running."[X]Sam is a great bro "That you’ve ever done something so reckless even a mentally challenged clam would know better?"[X]ha! "And you ran around getting in fights like a snapping turtle on roller skates even before"[X]amusing

"In Bible times, a man would strike with the back of the hand, to show power over someone else. It was a gesture of contempt as well as aggression. But,” he waved his hand to the other side, “If after being struck with the back of the hand, his opponent turned his head and offered the other cheek, the aggressor would have no choice but to strike with the palm—not as a man might beat his oxen, but the way one fights with an equal. So, without raising a hand in retaliation, the persecuted demands to be treated with dignity.”"[X]sounds believable "Wrath is a sin. When we let our anger consume us, when we feed it, tend it the way we should be tending the good in our lives, then it is a sin. Anger and violence are like a river, they can nourish or they can destroy. It’s up to you to determine which.”"[ch1]interesting philosophy "You are still a good man, Captain Rogers. Doubt and anger may hide that from you, but they are shadows, they cannot destroy something as solid and tangible as a soul.""[ch2]comment "Being angry at a man is easy. You forgive him or you do not. Either way, that anger is clear and direct. Being angry at an institution, a country, a church— there is no one place to direct that anger. It scatters like light through a prism. The only thing to do is to decide whether the institution is, at its core, worth saving"[ch2]more philosophy

"All of a sudden, Yuri, without thinking about it very hard, had let all the pieces of agape slip into place inside his head and his heart. His дедушка. Lilia and Yakov. Otabek. Even the piggy and fucking Viktor. No matter how much he yelled and thrashed at him, they were there for him. He wasn’t quite ready to use the word “love” (except *maybe* for дедушка), but he could see. He could understand. He already had friends. Not that he’d ever let any of those fuckers know "[ch1]lol "the words that came out of Yuri’s mouth frequently required translation from angry kitten to human being, and he was determined to begin work on a dictionary. "[ch1]yup! Followed by awww

"He probably looks 9 times as beautiful when it’s just him, just skin, endless scars that all tell his story, that all tell the world ‘I survived’."[X]remember, you're a survivor

"“When you encounter difficulties and contradictions, do not try to break them, but bend them with gentleness and time.”"[X]Francois de Sales ""Have patience with every one, but especially with yourself. Do not lose courage in considering your own imperfections.""[X]Francois de Sales "I’ve been patient, I am patient, and I’m trying but it’s just so hard"[X]Bucky, i relate "Steve takes several deeps breaths in and out and reminds himself that Bucky’s not angry with him, he’s angry near him."[X]Steve, I also relate ""True progress quietly and persistently moves along without notice.""[X]Francois de Sales

"Less talking,” Yuuri pants, tilting his head and hoping Victor will get the message, “more hickeys for me to regret next time I go out in public."[X]comment

"It had been incredibly difficult for Yuuri to try and explain to Viktor that no, there was nothing really wrong, and yet everything was wrong all at once"[X]relatable

"Yūri couldn’t sleep. He twisted and turned in his bed, pulling the sheets up, pushing them back down, stretching out, curling into a ball… it was no use. He couldn’t get comfortable."[X]the words! "When Yūri was dealing with something, he tended to deal with it alone. He didn’t like people thinking he was weak, or that he couldn’t cope"[X]oh...

"As King, there was no reason he had to train the knights himself but according to Arthur, clanking swords and working up a sweat was quite the remedy for the stress of being King."[X]reminds me of my boyfriend.

"Probably because you’re always too distracted by Merlin’s pretty mouth on your cock, husband mine.”"[X]oh. Merlin was shocked by her language!

"Are you undressing my future wife, Merlin?" "Well it is my job to serve, my lord,” [Merlin] said. "[X]cheeky! Good thing he likes him

"And secondly, if getting righteously dicked down by you is going to interfere with my skating, I’m just going to have to learn to do quads with a sore ass."[X]comment

"The only better view is @katsuki-y “Awwww, you’re too good to me,” Victor purred and left the caption, posting it. “I feel like I’m complimenting myself,” Yuuri protested weakly. “As well you should,” Victor answered, "[X]remember. My boyfriend and me.

"No. It was very unfashionable. You were very attractive, though. And your lack of inhibitions regarding clothing was very fashion-forward."[X]amusing, regarding Yurii's tie at THE banquet...

"John had taken days to convince that this could work, but once he’d had his little protest about ‘normal’, he had accepted that he was no more normal than Mary or Sherlock, though marginally better at faking it, "[X]you can fake normal but why? This is the declaration of the marriage between William Sherlock Scott Holmes And John Hamish Watson And Mary Elizabeth Morstan Each one to the other two In love and trust In respect and faith We will all three be true to each other Be friends to each other Cherish each other We will stand by each other And for each other And with each other The secrets of our pasts are our own to keep. The challenges of our future Are our privilege to share We choose each other, we three We choose this life together

"‘Oh yes. My brother. So lovable it takes two people to do it properly"[ch3] "Mrs Holmes’s cheeks dimpled at the way her littlest boy’s eyes lit up and he kept on smiling at his … spice, even though he pretended to be annoyed at all the fuss." Plural of spouse...

"Gwen’s ladies-in-waiting worked hard for her, and they were entitled to the treat of seeing Merlin’s sweet little rounded ass in form-fitting clothing."[x] amusing

"Bet you didn't think you'd be adopting a hyperactive genius and two incredibly attractive senior citizens."

And I see you have your GPS set on me." Bucky nods at Steve’s boxers, and only when Steve looks down does he notice his obvious morning wood jutting out in Bucky’s general direction."[x] "I know it’s just in my head, Steve, but that doesn’t make it any less real!" [Same]

“Your face is true art.”[x]low effort come back to popular art "...how the hell did this happen, it’s Wednesday, she’s retired, and Stella didn’t even do anything this time." [Same] Stucky double genderbent

"Casual touches tended to have that effect on him, and it always tugged at her heart that someone so fundamentally sweet and kind, for all he liked to cover it up, should be so surprised by gestures of affection."[x]relatable

"Steve may not take the best care of himself, but he will never fail to take care of someone he considers a responsibility. Plus, you turned it into a challenge.”[ch3] spot on! "There were two circumstances when he seemed to retreat behind Cap’s shield for safety. Not the physical one, but the emotional equivalent."[ch4] "This kinda thing, though, that’s different. Abstract art boils things down to their basic concepts. A good artist gives you the structure and framework of the story, the tone and mood, but they don’t give you the words. The viewer has to tell the story themselves, and that means it’s always personal. Maybe different every time someone looks at the painting. The artist isn’t telling you a story, they’re giving you one.”[ch4] "In the past few weeks she’d come to realize that he avoided touch almost as much as she did, and yet longed for the contact no less than her. For different reasons, both in the avoidance and the need, but that didn’t make the desire any less real."[ch4] “But it’s yours, and means something to you, yes?” She smiled at him. “So it will mean more to me than the prettiest painting from a stranger.”[ch4] "It made sense that to her, the mind would be the defining feature, rather than appearance."[ch5] "Wanda had lived in the midst of danger for so long, she’d forgotten what it felt like to be sheltered and protected. The sensation was addicting,"[ch7]either that or it can be confusing to have someone to lean on after much time struggling to be independent

“Sometimes I wonder,” he admitted, sighing. “Sam asked me once what makes me happy, and I couldn’t answer him. I still can’t, beyond ‘helping people’. “Then let’s find out, together,” Wanda suggested, catching his hand in hers and holding tight. “We can start with your favourite movie.””[ch3]

#fanfiction #fic rec #quotes #2018

[wizardsnwookies]

Campaign Diary- FOC101217

The evening crowd at Zahn’s Cantina had just started to roll in, and the “Kessel Five” sat at their small booth in the back digesting the job information Charmer had just unloaded on them.

“Soooo, what are we doing about the droid job? I mean, didn’t we kill two of them?” Rugor started down at the bowl of protein in front of him, pushing lumps to the side with his spoon.

“Three, actually.” Vrssl nodded turning over the small holo projector in his hand. It was the only piece of physical information they would get on the jobs, and even that was born out of necessity. Holo images beat physical descriptions any day of the week.

“The female has my frequency though. So, maybe she’ll contact us?”

“Maybe, as for the others, I wonder if we can call Nileen and see if someone on Siskeen can pick up the scraps for us.”

“Weren’t they wanted functional?” Rugor raised the collection of scar-tissue that was his eye brow.

“Sure, but they didn’t specify the level of functionality did they?” Vrssl smiled. Vagueries and semantics made their job all the easier. “Speaking of which, I have something I want to run by you guys.”

Kara and Graalbar, who had up until that point been focusing on their meal and drinks raised their attentions.

“I want to put heuristic processors in the battle droids.”

Kara smiled at this, gently nodding. She had been working with droids for a long time, but she had been observing Vrssl and his work on the battle droids since Siskeen and she had to admit she was impressed with his work.

“Ok, I don’t know what that is.” Rugor shrugged.

“It’s the difference between a Protocol droid and a GNK unit. These are early issue Trade Federation designs that were worked on a hive mind server. With a heuristic processor they’ll be able to think for themselves, give them the ability to problem solve if there’s an obstacle between them and their goal.”

“What about the arm cannons?” Kara let Vrssl do his thing usually, but she couldn’t help but speak up on this issue. “Someone sees those and we’re slagged.”

“I’ll rig them to deploy from inside the exoskeleton.”

“Ok, but these are still clone war era assassin droids. They’re going to draw some attention. How do we get by that?”

Vrssl thought for a moment, she raised a decent point. There was a difference between walking around with pistol openly strapped to your hip and casually strolling around with a mortar gun on your back.

“We’ll write a shell program. Something that will run on top of their default systems. We can make one a protocol droid and the other...I dunno, an analytics bot?”

“Sounds good to me. Let’s do it.”

---

“Aw slag.” Rugor swore and set the data pad down on the table in front of them, spinning it around so everyone on the other side could see as he read aloud. “Shailian Heights is the peak of comfort of luxury for even the most discerning traveler. The favored apartment complex for imperial officers and storm troopers planet-side, our facility boasts many fine amenities and blah blah blah...”

GROOOOOWRK. Rugor still hand’t learned to speak Shriwook, but he could tell the wookie next to him shared his frustration just by the inflection. This “simple repossession” was turning out to be a bigger pain than he anticipated.

Local scumbag dealer sold a luxury air-speeder a few days ago. Now he has someone who is willing to pay twice for it, and instead of buying it back from the current owner he figures he’ll double his profit by arranging a theft. Just an average day on Smuggler’s Moon. Just one problem. The current owner, is Numb Nibn, academy graduate and “honest imperial” some are calling the unconfirmed third candidate in the race for planetary representative.

“If we get into the security room we can probably make things easier on us. Pose as a maintenance team maybe?” Vrssl pushed back the datapad and Rugor immediately scooped it up and began tapping.

“Maybe if we’re lucky the blueprints will be stored on the Hall of Records cloud server.” Another frown indicated that was not the case.

“Try searching for imperial properties in the area.” Vrssl leaned forward, his brow furrowing in sudden realization. “If he’s here, it’s got to be in an official capacity somehow. If he graduated the academy, I doubt he’s pulling stormtrooper duty at the outpost.”

“Got it. Some kind of Academy remote Office. Enlistment and registrars offices mostly.”

GRAWR ROOOOWK!

“Probably a good idea.” Vrssl nodded before looking over at Kara. “Can you get us a speeder for the day? Something non-descript, sounds like we’re going on a stake-out.”

---

Graalbar grumbled in the back seat of the speeder, his knees up against his chin. Obviously they weren’t likely to get something large enough for wookies, but he’d at least appreciate the front seat where he could have a little more leg room. He understood of course, he was the muscle, not the brains nor the pilot. Still, though.

GROOOOWK.

“Sorry, but there’s nothing nearby that wouldn’t be inconspicuous. Until he moves, we’re stuck in the speeder.” Vrssl gazed lazily out the window. He knew how Graalbar felt. The cafe across from the apartment building was far more comfortable for a stakeout. They managed to arrive early enough to have a decent breakfast before Numb returned from his morning jog around the block and disappeared into the lobby.

After what they could only assume was a trip to the refresher and a change of clothes a sparkling white speeder pulled out of the parking hanger half-way up the building and turned into the morning traffic. From then on, the four of them had been crammed in the speeder rental Kara had procured for them. They had followed him to the Academy Offices in the metropolitan center of Shail where he handed off his speeder to the valet on the roof before disappearing to the turbolifts. That was roughly 8 hours ago, since then they had only seen him once more around noon to grab a small bite from a street vendor before heading back inside.

“Hey. There he is.” Rugor straightened up in the pilot’s seat and turned on the repulsers, pointing to the familiar figure walking to the valet booth with ticket in hand.

GRONK ROWWR. Rugor couldn’t be sure, but he guessed Graalbar had said something of the likes of “about time.”

Carefully, their own pale green speeder pulled into traffic a few paces behind the white luxury model and followed. With the sun setting between skyrises, traffic began to build around them. Rush hour on Smuggler’s Moon. They pushed deeper into the metropolitain area before Numb began to descend once again to ground level and pulling towards what appeared to be a restaurant with a glowing red sign that read “23.”

“Subtle.” Vrssl scoffed as Rugor slowed to find an inconspicuous spot across the street.

“What?”

“A human’s only restaurant.”

“How can you tell?”

“23, the number of chromosome pairs in the human species.”

“That son of a bitch.” Rugor was not commenting about the exclusivity of the clientele. He nodded his head toward the white luxury speeder as it pulled into a spot marked for the disabled, placing an Imperial Priority parking tag on the inside dash before exiting.

“Alright, that’s it.” Vrssl unbuckled himself from the seat in back. “I’m doing this right here. Keep the speeder running and be ready just in case things go south. Graalbar, think you can give me a distraction?”

Graalbar grinned.

---

“I AM HUNGRY.”

“I’m sure you are, but you can’t eat here. Okay?” The doorman at 23 was obviously flustered, not only did he never expect to see a full grown wookie in person, he never dreamed one would come strolling up to the human’s only establishment and demand to be let in.

“I AM HUNGRY.” Graalbar put on his best look of confusion and continued to press the buttons on his voxbox. The tinny voice had no tone or inflection to it, but he could up the level of irritation by pressing in as quick succession as he could. “I NEED ASSISTANCE. I AM HUNGRY.”

“I...No. You have to leave. Now.” He was getting frustrated now, desperately trying to wave his arms in such a manner as to communicate what he was saying as universally as possible. He was used to not being able to speak alien languages, but usually they would understand basic well enough.

“I NEED ASSISTANCE. I AM HUNGRY.”

Vrssl allowed himself a satisfied smile before creeping through the forming crowd. The commotion at the door was starting to gain attention from both in and outside the restaurant. A hostess was brought out to help the doorman, but from the look on her face she was just as baffled as to what to do as he was.

With the distraction in place, Vrssl reached the luxury speeder easily. Despite his short stature he managed to strain on his toes just enough to slide his slender fingers between the weather stripping and transparasteel window on the driver’s side. Slowly he added pressure downward, as evenly as he could. He wasn’t worried about breaking the window, but the-

SNAP!

The window disappeared inside the door and Vrssl nearly fell over. While the window was made of transparasteel, the gear mechanism that slid it up and down into place was not obviously. Oh well, easy fix. He’ll worry about it later. Reaching inside he opened the door and slid underneath the dash, pulling off the access panel and plunging his hands wrist deep in wires. It had been a while since he had hot-wired something, but you know what they say, it’s like riding a speeder bike...

“You hear that? The troopers are on their way. You need to leave or you’ll be in big trouble.” The female was far more firm in tone, and Vrssl could hear her from inside the car. Better hurry.

“Hey, friend.” Graalbar felt a hand on his arm and looked over to see a small Gand speaking in perfect Shriwook. “Do you understand basic? That place is human’s only. They called the imperials on you, you need to leave.”

“What do you mean ‘human’s only?’“ Graalbar paused long enough to cast his eyes towards the luxury speeder. Still parked. He needed to drag this out as long as he can. “That’s an outrage! That’s discrimination!!!”

RAWR GRAAAAAAGH ROOOOOOOOOORK

While the Gand and Vrssl and anyone who spoke Shriwook heard a very spirited, if not a little rambling, speech on species equality the rest of the crowd simply saw a rather enraged looking meter tall wookie stomping in place and waving his powerful arms. From inside the restaurants human faces were now pressed up against the windows looking rather worried, and some even passed by the retreating hostess and doorman as they made their escape outside. One of which was Numb Nibn.

Numb paid his bill and grabbed one last bite of his meal before exiting the 23. The hairy alien outside had turned his appetite, and from the looks of things the troopers would be coming for him soon enough. If he didn’t leave now, he would be held up making witness statements for the next hour or so. Let the bucketheads deal with the carpet, that’s their job. He had more important things to do.

He brushed past the crowd outside that had started to thin as soon as the mention of imperials were made. Reaching for his fob he paused at the door and furrowed his brow.

“Did I leave the window open?” He couldn’t remember. It had been a long day of paperwork. His placement was not quite finalized so here he was stuck on this ball with a pen in his hand. Top of his class, he should be out cleaning up the Empire from the abusers like the Moff. Corruption like that was why the Empire rose to power to begin with. If they were no better than the Old Republic, than what was the point?

Shaking his head clear he slipped inside and closed the door. Just as he noticed the bundle of wires dangling by his shins, he felt cold steel against the back of his head.

“Don’t move, and don’t say a word.” Vrssl gave his voice a bit gravel to it to make himself more imposing. His species weren’t that naturally intimidating after all. “Put your hands on the wheel, slowly.”

Numb obeyed, fuming. He could see the troopers arriving outside now. The wookie had disappeared, as did most of the crowd. He though of taking the chance and screaming for help, but only for a moment.

“Don’t even think about it. Now, start driving.”

“You are making a very big mistake. Do you even know-”

“I said no talking!” Vrssl gave Numb a hard rap on the back of the head with the pistol butt. “Get moving.”

---

“Ok, now what?” Numb let his hands fall from the wheel as he guided the speeder into a gentle hover in between two buildings. The thug behind him made sure he stopped in the shadow cast in the setting sun so they wouldn’t be seen. A second speeder pulled up slowly beside them with it’s lights off, and looking over Numb cursed as he saw the large wookie sitting in the front seat. That was the last thing he saw however, as some fabric found itself wrapped around his eyes and secured into tape with distinctive sound of mesh tape.

“Shut up, open the door.”

Numb did as he was told, but kept his seat belt securely fastened.

“Lose the belt.”

“What? What are you-”

“No talking! Just do it.”

As he pushed the button on the buckled Numb felt the speeder shift as slightly and felt hairy paws feeling their way around his ankles. He recognized the cool zing of cable as it was tied being tied securely in place. He didn’t like where this was going. He had heard stories of Smuggler’s Moon, but had hoped they were just that, stories. His beloved Empire couldn’t possibly allow a place like this to exist. A place so utterly lacking in order and justice. It seems he was wrong, and if he was going to do anything about it, he would need to get out of here alive.

Taking a deep breath Numb grabbed the steering wheel and jammed his bound feet down on the accelerator. The speeder lurched forward and a loud whine from the engines filled his ears before everything went numb. His head suddenly felt like he had just jumped into the Academy pool, accompanied by a sharp pain in the back of his head. By the time he regained feeling in his extremities, his head felt much heavier than before and the cable tied to his ankles was digging into his flesh. He heard a crash and the animal yell of the wookie somewhere far above him.

Talking now, and a slight swaying sensation. He was being moved somewhere. The weight in his head shifted as the cable gave way and he felt himself falling into something wet, soft, but emitting an ungodly odor.

“You ok?” A voice with just the hint of an accent, Naboo maybe.

“Yeah, looks like we have some dings to buff out before we make the delivery though.” Another voice, sounding vaguely like the one who had taken him hostage, but different at the same time. “A dumpster, nice touch. But I think we can do better.”

When he was eventually found in the morning, Numb had been stripped down to his underclothes and the words “Rebel Sympathiser” had been tagged onto his chest with spray paint. He was tired. He was utterly humiliated. He smelled worse than he imagined a Hutt would. He could already hear the stifled laughter at the academy offices. It was almost too much for him to bare.

#star wars #Star Wars Saga Edition #role playing games #campaign diary