#took a bit of brain power at moments when tweaking the pattern to how i wanted it without actually knowing how the tweaking would turn out | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tickle-bugs · 4 years

Text

Rumor Has It

Summary: In the process of rediscovering her powers, Allison gets a tad carried away. Thankfully, her siblings are there to keep her in check.

Okay this is so self-indulgent but I’ve been wanting to write a fic about Allison’s powers for forever and I never got around to it. Don’t think too hard about the timeline on this one, I was going to end it with the dinner and then I realized I didn’t want to. Also, Lila is here because I love her.

SPOILERS FOR SEASON 2 AHEAD!!

Allison could confidently say she was the most patient of the Hargreeves siblings. With the boys, there was no contest—they were all volatile loose cannons with something to prove—and even Ben had fallen prey to the excess testosterone. Years of following Klaus around had brought back out Ben’s snarky side, which he had all-but-smothered in his younger years. A wise person would argue Vanya was patient, and their argument would have merit, but Vanya wasn’t so much patient as she was used to being forcibly subdued. She was kind and sweet, but she would never wait for anything again. She simply acted now. Allison could appreciate the sentiment, but that wasn’t how she operated—no matter how badly she wanted to.

She was always the moderator—the only one who could reign in six other unruly supers without losing a limb. So, when Reginald invited the seven of them to dinner, she had to call upon every ounce of her patience to keep from strangling one or all of them.

“I still say we kill him.” Diego stabbed a mango in the fruit bowl and pulled it towards himself. He started carefully peeling the skin, leaving the shavings in a little pile next to his plate.

“That solves nothing.” Allison sighed.

“It saves the president. I’d call that solving something.” Diego didn’t look up at her, but the aggressive way he sliced a huge chunk of skin off of the mango almost felt personal.

“I agree with Diego. I think it’d be fun.” Lila pulled Diego’s arm towards her so she could take a bite of the mango. He glared at her and she tweaked his nose, taking another large bite just to piss him off.

“See?” Diego gestured at Lila.

“No one is killing Dad. Let’s hear what he has to say, then we can figure out a plan.” Allison folded her hands on the table, relieved when everyone else seemed to be in agreement. Klaus handed her a tiki cup and she took a grateful sip. It’d been a while since she’d had a good piña colada.

“Why? This whole thing could be over so quickly!”

“Yes, it could, but it won’t be.” She gave him one of her patented fake smiles, taking a pointed sip of her colada.

“Why? Because you’re in charge? Because you’ve got this under control?” Diego scoffed. He offered Lila a piece of his mango before she could steal another bite.

“Oh boy, here we go.” Luther muttered.

“Do you want a drink? No? Well, I do. I’m gonna go get a drink.” Klaus stood and stumbled over to the bar, taking his second margarita of the night with him.

“What is that supposed to mean?” She crossed her arms.

“What authority do you really have, Allison?”

“I would say her powers are a pretty good authority. Plus, Allison’s a good leader.” Vanya piped up, smiling softly at her. Allison gave her hand a quick squeeze.

“Team Zero has no leaders. That’s the whole point.”

“Kinda hard to be Team Zero when you still want to be number one.” Five took an apple from the fruit bowl and took an innocent bite. Diego pushed his chair out, knife in hand, twirling it between his fingers.

“Diego, sit down! Now.” Allison didn’t stand. She wouldn’t sink to his level. Or, rise, rather.

“Make me.” Diego fixed Allison with a withering stare, but it paled in comparison to the one she gave him. In fact, she relished in the way he shivered when he met her eyes. Good. He should remember his place.

“Diego-” Luther tried, but one glare shut him down.

“Shut up. Allison, you want me to sit and behave? Make me.”

“Come on. Don’t do this,” Vanya whispered, trying to grab Diego’s knife hand. He simply flicked the knife behind his back and into his other hand. For a moment, it looked like Vanya’s pleading eyes would work, but Five chuckled and sealed the deal.

“Dinner and a show! Predictable as always.” Five folded his hands beneath his chin and stole a generous sip of Vanya’s cocktail.

“Shut up, twerp!” Diego pointed at him with the knife.

“Or else what? You’ll stab me?” Five was grinning now, goading Diego on purpose.

“Five!” Allison growled, and he rolled his eyes, falling quiet. At least he knew not to test her.

“Keep talking. Let’s find out.” Diego flipped the knife once, then twice, and each time it stayed in the air just a little too long.

“I’ve got ten bucks on Diego,” Lila said, kicking her feet up on the table. She took the liberty of finishing his mango for him, peeling away little bits of skin with her messy nails.

“Guys, stop it!” Vanya latched onto Diego’s arm, trying to force him down into his seat. He pulled away and she ended up jabbing his side. He flinched and glared at her, but did not budge. Allison’s lips quirked into a momentary smile.

“Allison,” Vanya said quietly, gesturing at the brewing fight. Allison rolled her eyes and threw up her hands.

“Okay! Just remember you asked for this!” Allison smirked, and the room suddenly felt a bit colder. She could feel everyone’s attention on her, but she had Diego’s eyes, and that was all she needed.

“I heard a rumor that you started tickling yourself.” Allison’s voice echoed through the room, the sound waves capturing her brother. Just before his eyes turned white, she could see the look of minute panic, that look of ‘oh shit’ that he always made before being put in his place. Allison smiled, curled her tongue against her teeth, and dropped the winning blow.

“Coochie coo, Diego.” She couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled out on the end of her sentence. Diego’s hands raised towards his body as if they didn’t belong to him, fingers wiggling in that way that had always ruined him as a kid—slow, methodical, and teasing. Both hands dug into his sides, just below his ribs, and he yelped, quickly consumed by his own high-pitched laughter. The sight was strange—90% of Diego was squirming up a storm trying to escape himself, but his arms and hands kept him pinned exactly where Allison wanted him.

“How does that work?” Lila laughed, unable to hide her snickers when Diego squealed. She fluttered her fingers over his neck and was delighted to find that he couldn’t fight back—what with his hands being so busy, and all.

“Her power shuts off the sense of self-awareness in the brain, I think. You can’t tickle yourself normally because the laughter is a panic response. Your brain knows it’s you, so you can’t make yourself laugh, unless you’re ridiculously ticklish, or something. Allison’s power is making Diego’s brain think his hands aren’t his, even though he knows they are. It’s really interesting, actually.” Vanya beamed, unable to resist poking him in the ribs a few times. He threw his head back in his chair and somehow found it in himself to giggle louder when his rumored hands found a home underneath his arms, drawing unbearable shapes and driving him up the wall. Everyone, excluding Diego, turned to stare at Vanya.

“What? I like science.” She shrugged.

“It is...creative, I’ll say.” Five crossed his arms, then uncrossed them, as if he didn’t trust his own hands.

“Yeah, I haven’t heard him laugh like that since we were kids. He still sounds like a kettle.” Klaus chuckled.

“Shut up, Klaus!” Diego squeaked out, tossing his head side to side. He puffed his cheeks out, trying to rein in his laughter, but it only lasted until his left hand hit that spot just above his top rib that made him fully cackle.

“Aww, this is cute.” Lila ruffled his hair, knowing full well she wouldn’t have gotten away with it had Diego not been testing the range of his vocal chords. Lila shot Allison a look she couldn’t quite read—something akin to a thoughtful expression, as if she was taking a mental note—and smiled.

“Diego? I think your legs could use some attention.” Allison watched with delight as Diego’s hands dove for his thighs. One hand started squeezing while the other wiggled up and down, and the rate at which he plummeted into desperate belly laughter was almost alarming. He twisted off of the chair and onto the floor, eyes screwed shut.

“Allison, stohop!” Diego squealed, absolutely hysterical. Jesus Christ, no one had ever been this ruthless with him before. Her powers were hitting spots he didn’t even know he had, and each fresh discovery sent him into a wave of overwhelming, giggly panic. Every time he tried to take command of his hands, something blocked him, like the wires in his brain weren’t quite connected.

“Nope! Not until you apologize for being an asshole. And agree to be nice.”

“I can’t—noho!” He arched his back and drummed his heels on the floor. Watching his own hands wreak havoc on his worst spot set off all kinds of butterflies in his stomach. His hands kept digging in infuriating patterns, completely overwhelming his nervous system with tickly sparks.

“Sure you can! It’s very easy.” Allison winked at him and he growled, but it dissolved very quickly into giggles.

“You’re all a bunch of children,” Five sighed.

“Five, why don’t you join him?” Allison asked sweetly, stirring her drink with the straw. Five’s look of confusion melted into a brief flicker of white eyes, and soon his cackles mingled with Diego’s rich laughter. He hit the floor much quicker than his brother, but that might’ve had something to do with his borrowed hands flying straight for his knees. Five squealed and kicked his legs, rolling around on the ground as he tried and failed to escape.

Watching Five and Diego writhe, so tangled in their laughter that they couldn’t threaten her if they wanted to, her heart skipped a few beats. Sure, the power was going to her head a bit, but it’s not like her brothers didn’t have it coming. She was doing a public service. Speaking of public service, Diego was starting to turn an interesting color.

“If I let you go, are you going to be nice tonight? I will embarrass you in front of dad, I don’t even care.”

“Y-Yes! Lemme goho!”

“Fine.” She waved a hand and Diego went limp. He lifted his hands to his face to muffle the last few giggles trickling from his lips. With some difficulty, he pulled himself to his feet, stumbling back into his chair with an arm wrapped around his torso. Sparing Diego brought a softness in Allison, and she smiled at Five.

“You can let your knees go. I always liked your giggles more anyway.” He disappeared in a flash of blue and reappeared behind her, arms outstretched and ready to strangle, but Allison sighed. He was so...predictable. A creature of unfortunate habit.

“I heard a rumor that you tickled your ribs silly.”

“Noho!” He hit the ground in seconds, tripping over his own feet as he went.

“Really?” She turned and arched a brow at him.

“I hate yohou!”

“You’re lucky I didn’t mention your hands.” She scoffed, then flinched when Five shrieked. One of his hands started going to town on the other, scratching so gently that Allison almost couldn’t believe how loud he was. He squirmed so violently that she was sure he’d’ve punched her if she’d been close enough.

“Oopsie.” She grimaced, biting her lip.

“Allison, hey.” Vanya smiled, obviously amused, but tilted her head towards the elevator. The up arrow was glowing red and, yeah, it was probably, regrettably, time to stop.

“You can stop, Five,” She murmured, and he wheezed, scrubbing his palms against his jacket to erase sensation. The feeling of the fibers sliding against his palms sent him into another flurry of giggles as he clenched his fists.

Some cruel, playful itch at the back of Allison’s mind had been thoroughly scratched—so much so that when Diego still took a jab at her for not using her powers, she made him punch himself instead of embarrassing him.

She liked using her powers. The force with which they held her was sometimes scary, but for harmless instances like this? It was what she had been missing growing up. Everyone else got to mess around with their powers, but she was never really allowed to. Being the responsible and patient one meant being the buzzkill in her siblings’ eyes, and buzzkills didn’t often get roped into the intense, multi-floor, super-tickle-fights that had dominated what few happy memories that the Hargreeves had as children.

She started slow with reintroducing her powers, not wanting to overwhelm or scare anyone. She was still trying to get past the look on Patrick’s face when he’d caught her rumouring Claire. Allison knew her siblings would never look at her like that—in fact, they were the only people who ever wanted her to use her powers. She started with simple things: convincing Five to get some rest after refusing to sleep, ending an argument between Luther and Diego that was quickly spiraling out of control—even on Klaus, who would not stop fighting with Ben during the night. That last one wasn’t truly necessary, but the walls were thin and their rooms shared an unfortunate border.

“What color are you thinking?” Klaus dumped his armful of nail polish bottles onto her bed, just barely catching a few before they clattered to the floor.

“Yellow?” She gingerly picked one from the pile.

“I love it.” He beamed and took a seat in front of her, unscrewing the cap. The brightness and warmth of the polish made her smile. It was the color of her favorite dress from the decade they’d left behind—the dress that Raymond had always loved. Klaus took her foot and laid it on his leg, sticking his tongue out to concentrate.

Someone softly cleared their throat and the two of them looked up to see Vanya hovering in the doorway. Allison smiled and waved her in, and she plopped on the ground next to Klaus. Vanya leaned over to watch Klaus work.

“You like the color?” Allison asked. Things between them were still fragile.

“It’s lovely. Sissy’s favorite, actually.” Vanya smiled softly, fiddling with her shirt sleeves a bit, and Allison knew things were okay, for the time being.

Three pairs of stomping footsteps echoed down the hall and Allison looked up, catching her brothers lingering in the doorway, though seemingly not on purpose. Luther and Five had cornered a brooding Diego who looked like he was a few seconds away from impaling one or both of them.

“Diego, quit being such a grouch.” Luther shoved his shoulder lightly.

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Diego grumbled, arms crossed.

C’mon man, it’s been days. No one likes when you sulk around. Just lighten up a little.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Diego held a knife up to Luther’s throat.

“Five, a little help here?”

“Oh, I don’t care.” Five stuck his hands in his pockets and smiled.

“Diego. Dude.” Luther shook Diego’s shoulder again and he growled, grabbing Luther’s meaty hand and wrenching it backwards.

“I heard a rumor that Luther and Five tickled you until you admit defeat,” Allison piped up, giggling at the look of absolute betrayal on Diego’s face. Five cackled of his own volition, happy as a clam to have a reason to torment his brother.

“Allison, no!” He bolted, Five and Luther hot on his heels.

“Have fun!” She called after them.

“That was mean.” Klaus chided, wiggling his fingers over her sole. She squeaked and tried to pull away, but his grip was tight on her ankle.

“Klaus! I’m gonna mess up the polish!” She whined around a giggle, hiding her face in her hands.

“No you won’t. Just stay still.” Klaus chuckled, continuing to apply the polish with one hand. With the other, he kept scratching gently

“Yeah, Allison, just stay still.” Vanya took hold of Allison’s ankle and fluttered along her arch, taking note of which spots made her curl in on herself and paying them extra attention.

It was then that Allison decided they were no longer exempt from her wrath. Everyone was fair game now. Though, maybe she could show them a little mercy, since they definitely could be a lot meaner.

They only stopped once they made her squeal—Klaus scratched his nail repeatedly over her big toe until she nearly fell on the floor—and even after, they wouldn't stop teasing her about the noise she’d made. She filed away her large-scale revenge plan and settled for tickling them both once Klaus had finished her nails.

There was a lesson in quitting while you’re ahead, but, pinned to the couch and screaming, Allison was starting to think it had gone over her head.

It had started with Lila throwing a movie night—her way of apologizing for, well, everything without having to say the words. Lila had set up a sort of nest situation with pillows and blankets, allowing the siblings to choose their seats freely. Allison and Vanya snuggled on one end of the couch while Luther claimed the other, and the rest of them piled on one another in front of the couch. Lila laid with her head in Diego’s lap, and Klaus and Five were cozy next to them. They hadn’t existed this way in years. It would’ve been nice, had the tension not been so thick.

All of them were almost afraid to relax, as if they’d all simultaneously remembered how long it’d been since they’d properly been together as a family. Five looked like he would explode if anyone touched him, Diego was far too occupied with his box of Thin Mints, and Klaus’s knee was shaking far too much not to be distracting to everyone present.

A smile tugged at her lips. If any situation called for an intervention, it was this one. Possibly even more than her previous abuses of power.

“They need to lighten up, don’t you think?” Allison murmured, stealing a pretzel from the bag Vanya was holding.

“They are a bit..tense.” Vanya chuckled. Allison took the pretzels and set them safely aside before gesturing for her to lean close.

“I heard a rumor that you started messing with Klaus,” Allison whispered, munching on another pretzel. Vanya fixed her with a ‘really?’ face and she shrugged in apology. Vanya started nudging Klaus with her foot, waiting just long enough between gentle shoves that it was annoying. After about the eighth time, Klaus whirled around and grabbed Vanya’s ankle, skittering his fingers up her leg.

“Vanya!” He gasped in mock offense, spidering his nails in random circles. Vanya simply slid down the couch cushion like a pile of jello, the fight already drained from her body. Allison had been hoping for a more explosive reaction, but this would do as a start. She leaned forward and put a hand on Diego’s shoulder.

“I heard a rumor that you started a proper tickle fight.” She finished the command with a quick flutter at the back of his neck. Diego snatched her hand and yanked her forwards, using the change in momentum to grab her foot and go to town. She snorted and shoved at the back of his head, anything to get him to let go.

“Not with me! Nevermind, I heard a rumor you stole Five’s marshmallows.” She shoved him off of her and grinned when he immediately lunged for them. In that moment, Five was indistinguishable from a feral racoon as he dove for the treats. Lila managed to roll out of the way just before she was crushed.

“Give them back!” He screeched, reaching for the bag just out of his grip. Diego took advantage of his long arms and stretched as far away as possible.

“Nah, I don’t think so.” Diego dropped a marshmallow into his mouth, making direct eye contact as he chewed and swallowed. Five trembled with rage.

“You’re dead.” He pounced onto Diego who yelped before dissolving into frantic giggles, arms flailing about as he tried to dislodge Five. He squirmed right into Klaus, who took hold of his legs and dug in wherever he could reach. Vanya made a game of poking Diego’s stomach as many times as possible while dodging his hands. She could see the moment where her rumor dissolved, the four of them effortlessly carrying on the playfulness without aid.

Allison snuck a glance at Luther. He was still crushed into his corner of the couch, looking unbelievably uncomfortable but at least amused at the struggle going on beneath him. He deserved to smile as much as them.

“I heard a rumor-”

“That you were wildly ticklish, all over,” Lila said from behind her, and holy shit, when did she get there? Lila poked her side and a bright giggle bubbled out from her lips before she could stop it. Dread and anticipation tangled in her stomach. She’d never been that sensitive there before.

Uh oh.

“Lila, we can talk about this.” Allison raised her hands in surrender as Lila vaulted over the couch, straddling her before she could escape.

“That’s the problem, Allison. You’re still talking, not laughing.” Lila kneaded her thumbs into the sides of Allison’s stomach and she squealed, trying her damndest to grab the offending hands.

This was uncharted territory for her. She was used to teasy hands grabbing her neck or for roughhousing to turn into a mad grab for her feet. She knew exactly what it would feel like every time. This was technically the same, but radically different. Her body just didn’t know what to do. It was like being tickled for the first time ever, before her body knew what was going on. Every single part of her was sending up flares of tickly panic as she squirmed underneath Lila.

When someone—Klaus, judging by the cold shock of a few rings—grabbed hold of her feet, it dawned on her how what she’d put Diego through might’ve been a little mean.

“Lehet goho!”

“Hey, Allison? I think your legs could use some attention,” Diego said in an annoying mockery of her voice, but she was far too indisposed to reprimand him for it.

“I-” She started to plead, but verbal communication flew out the window entirely when Vanya started tickling lightly under her chin and down the column of her throat. It was so gentle and clearly loving, but the contrast between Vanya and the fiends going to town on the rest of her body only doubled her desperation to get away.

Diego hooked his fingers behind Allison’s knee and she nearly launched Lila across the room with how hard she thrashed. Her nervous system whited out for a minute as she squealed louder, doing everything she could to wrench her feet from Klaus’s grasp so she could kick Diego in the face.

“No! Stohop!” Great, she was snorting now.

“Uh-oh! Bad spot?” Klaus drawled, scribbling over her feet. Lila wormed her fingers into the crevices of Allison’s ribs, making sure to pinch and prod every so often, just to draw out little squeaks and hiccups. Diego found a spot on the side of her thigh where if he wiggled his fingers, Allison’s giggles would turn wheezy, and he was having far too much fun with it.

“Ihit tihickles!”

“Does it? Are you sure?” Lila vibrated a claw into Allison’s stomach and she threw her head back into the couch with a loud cackle. That was definitely new. Vanya giggled somewhere above her, dragging her fingers over the shells of her ears.

“Yes, oh my god-” She clamped her elbows to her sides when Lila tried to sneak her hands under her arms. Her brain sent out about fifty warning signals, essentially begging her not to let this happen, and while she had no clue where the knowledge had come from, she wasn’t about to question it.

“Alright, I’m sorry!” She tried to curl around Lila’s hands but that only made things worse.

“Damn straight.” Diego scoffed, (surprisingly) the first to let her go. After a few other quick pokes, the others released her, watching as she heaved in sweet oxygen. Every inch of her body was fizzling as she came down from her laughter. She covered her face, hiding her recovery, until two very mean hands darted into her exposed armpits. Allison bucked up hard, loud and bright laughter overcoming her as she thrashed on the couch. A few seconds felt like hours, and when Lila finally did stop, Allison wheezed before mustering the energy to glare.

“Lila!”

“Sorry! I just wanted to see what would happen.” She smiled, sheepish, but not at all apologetic.

“I hope I didn’t ruin movie night,” Allison murmured, looking up and around at her siblings.

“Au contraire! I think you made movie night. Everyone, grab your snacks. I want to see this kid fuck up some robbers.” Klaus started the movie without waiting for the others, earning groans of annoyance and panicked scrambling as everyone tried to find their seats. Lila stayed on the couch, pulling Allison’s legs across her lap, while Vanya adjusted so Allison’s head would be more comfy. Klaus laid across Diego’s back and Five propped his legs on top of them, popping marshmallows in his mouth like popcorn.

A success, if ever there was one.

#my fics #tua #The Umbrella Academy #ticklish!allison #ticklish!diego #ticklish!five #Allison Hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #diego hargreeves #luther hargreeves #five hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #lila pitts #i bully diego bc i love him #this was terribly self indulgent and i got carried away but can you blame me #the hargreeves live in my head rent-free #also this is how i saw the dinner scene happening because they deserve happy memories together #anyway!!!#allison stans come get y'all juice

157 notes · View notes

proxylott · 5 years

Text

Title: Watchdog Pairing: Explosive Hearts ( @snagg-ships ) Summary: Louis needs a Junker name

If James understood the concept of being stealthy, he would be lethal.

By nature, he was as rambunctious as an upstart crow; loud, noisy, boisterous, and completely incapable of being able to sit still. No matter how he was sitting or how quiet he was trying to be, some part of him would be moving or making a sound - be it the twitch of a finger, the tap of his prosthetic, or a subtle, steady hum in the back of his throat that he hardly ever seemed to be aware he was making.

But he was also something of a genius. You would never guess it if you spoke to him in any normal setting; his slang and his accent tended to dampen the effect of his words, and more often than not he sounded like half of a comedy duo with half the brains to show for it. Searching under his words for meaning, however, revealed something far more surprising than most would expect.

He was an absolute fucking mastermind.

Plans carried out between him and Roadhog were thought out to the very bone, no stone left out of place and no small amount of jewels left unaccounted for. Though their techniques were certainly lacking - “explode your way in, explode your way out” was a fair percentage of the reason they were so well known by several media outlets and law enforcement around the world, after all - no true flaw could be found in their plans except the execution.

And that was entirely down to who James was as a person. He never knew when to shut up.

Louis mulled over his thoughts as he contemplated the not-quite conundrum of his partner, eyes flickering back and forth between his latest project - something to tinker with and to keep his skills sharp, rather than something for any genuine purpose - and the man in question.

James had been staring at him for the past twenty minutes. There was a rhythm to the tap of his prosthetic against the floor that suggested impatience, and a high note to his throaty hum that boarded on overwhelming excitement. His fingers had been gradually tightening on the sharp slopes of his knees the longer he stared, an action bubbling up within him that he was slowly turning into a plan, desire twisting into movement.

He had yet to actually move, but Louis could tell it was coming. It was one of James’ worst flaws, and the one true drawback that stopped him from being an all-powerful genius; he was terrible at keeping secrets, and wore his thoughts exposed in the motions of his body.

Watching him from the corner of his eye, Louis waited for the explosion as if James were a soda bottle filled with Mentos, freshly shaken. The way he trembled with excitement like an overgrown Chihuahua had him unconvinced that his partner wasn’t actually going to explode if he didn’t speak his mind soon.

Cautiously, he turned back to his work.

The project was simple but effective. There were lots of small parts that needed to be carefully slotted together, complex mechanisms that required his rapt attention to see the tiniest issue in, and big, moving parts that demanded constant tweaking whenever he rearranged something else, no matter how minute. At most it was going to become a little exploding robot, something that might make James howl with laughter when he saw it in action, but chances were he’d just toss it aside for James to play with later, hopefully enough to distract him from the things he was really working on.

Five minutes passed. Louis flickered his gaze back over towards his partner - and startled ever so slightly, the screwdriver falling from his hands. He struggled not to drop the project, too, but saved it after a precarious moment of slippery fingers.

James had the most devious grin on his face. It was the sort of grin that suggested he’d cooked up something he thought was going to be really good, though whether or not anyone else agreed would be up for debate. He’d stopped his tapping to shove his hands between his legs, his fingers curling under the rim of the chair seat to push himself forward and into Louis’ space, neck extended out as far as he could stretch it, his shoulders trembling from the strain. Only his foot continued to move, tapping against the ground in a rhythm that skipped beats and held no pattern - he’d finally decided now was the time to speak his mind.

An uneasy feeling settled in Louis’ gut. He sat up a little straighter and carefully put his project down on the seat beside him, trying not to show his nerves as James’ giddy grin and squinted eyes pierced through him.

This didn’t feel like a plan that would affect him, nor did it feel like a plan that would end with explosions and chaos and catastrophe. It wasn’t a heist, nor was it a prank that would inevitably lead to Roadhog suffering in silence, mask concealing a tired rage. It felt much more… subdued, somehow; much less physical than James’ plans tended to be. It didn’t feel like any sort of plan Louis could put any sort of name to, and the thought of not knowing was a thought he didn’t like at all.

Luckily, he didn’t have to wait long to find out what it would be. He braced himself as James took in a deep breath, a wide grin splitting across his face, crinkling crows-feet around his eyes, and -

“You need’a Junker name!”

Louis blinked. “What?”

“A Junker name!” James howled with a sporadic burst of laughter, slamming one of his hands down against his knee. The action offset his other arm, still clutching at the chair, and sent him keeling over to collide with the floor, yelping at Louis’ feet.

“You’ve been with us for - bugger knows how long,” he continued as he pulled himself up to his feet, groaning softly and rubbing at his head. Louis may have felt a pang of pity for the poor sod, and almost did, but the pure and utter bewilderment he was stuck in masked any other feelings he could have felt. His mind had come to a halt - and that was a rare occurrence indeed. “So we’ve gotta get you a proper Junker name!”

“Oh.” Slipped numbly from Louis’ lips. He listened to James clamber back onto the chair, grumbling to himself and laughing at seemingly random intervals, and tried to process the idea that had been posited to him.

A Junker name? James wasn’t even part of Junkertown anymore - exiled for some unknown offence, or maybe one that James just wasn’t of the mind to remember beyond the fact that it had happened - and the concept of taking a name for an organisation none of them had any part of settled oddly in Louis’ mind.

Another part of him latched onto the idea. He’d been with the Junkers just under a year. Maybe this was a sign, the one he’d been waiting for with a sense of anticipation the past few months - maybe he really was part of the group, the triad the three of them had working together. It would be nice to cover his old identity with something new, too; a new start, an escape from the fact that he had been branded a traitor.

He wouldn’t be a traitor anymore. An odd sense of warmth overcame him, edging just a bit too close to sentimentality. He’d just be a guy in a small group of three, chasing after whatever valuable thing lured James in and trying his best not to die along the way in some explosive-based mishap.

“Okay,” he cut James’ grumbling off, giving him a small nod. There was a beat of silence as James turned to him, eyes squinted in confusion and mouth very slightly agape. Louis gave him the few moments he needed to remember what he’d been talking about prior to his grumbling, and allowed himself a small smile beneath his mask when James whopped with glee.

“Perfect! ‘Cos I got the best name for ya right here!”

He flung himself up from the chair with his arms stretched out above his head, completely unaware of the crash behind him as the chair toppled over. A wide, giddy grin stretched across his lips as he fanned his fingers out wide and threw his head back, bellowing out as loud as he could,

“TRASHLIZARD!”

“No.”

Louis’ curt response was quick and sharp, and James crumbled under the force of his disapproval.

“But that’s a good Junker name!” He whined, hunched in on himself as he glared poutily at the floor. He looked every part the kicked puppy.

The sight was a little bit more pathetic than Louis could handle. With a heavy sigh, he rubbed at the bridge of his nose, counted to ten, and scoured every recess of his mind for something that sounded appropriate enough for both of their tastes - not to mention his own standards.

After a few long moments a name finally came to mind. Peering down at the betrodden form of his partner on the floor, Louis said with a sense of finality, “Watchdog”.

James mulled it over for a moment. “Watchdog,” he muttered, stroking his chin and furrowing his brow as he stared intently at the floor. “Watchdog… Yeah... Yeah! Watchdog!” His face lit up and he shot up off the floor, snatching Louis’ hands from his lap and giving them a firm but gentle squeeze. Up close his grin was blinding, and Louis could see a bright glimmer of excitement in his eyes that made his heart clench. “Got a good ring to it, that!”

Louis gave him a tentative nod, a lump in his throat ceasing any attempts of speech. He could feel heat rise to his cheeks as James squeezed his hands again and grinned even wider, dipping in to rest his forehead against Louis’ with a rusty laugh.

It should have felt uncomfortable, having someone so close in his personal space.

It didn’t.

“That suits ya. Watchdog. I’ve gotta tell Roadie - he’ll get a fuckin’ kick outta this!”

Like a whirlwind James dashed from the room, whooping and hollaring, scattering piles of junk across the floor in his excitement.

Louis’ heart slowly settled its pace; the further James’ voice faded away, the less his heart felt like it was going to burst from his chest. He released a soft breath and ran his fingers through his hair, willing the flush from his cheeks as he scraped his nails against his scalp, thankful for the mask and his gloves as he closed his eyes.

Watchdog. He repeated the name is his head like a mantra until he could have sworn James was sitting next to him, whispering it soflty into his ear. Watchdog. Watchdog.

The more he said it, the more it fit, until eventually he felt something click into place.

Watchdog opened his eyes.

With a renewed sense of purpose and a plan in mind, he picked up his project, popped open the cover hiding the mechanisms, and rummaged around in the bucket of junk beside him, his gaze focused intently on the shell of his maneuverable explosive.

With any luck, it would be just as loud and obnoxious as the man it was being made to please.

#proxy writes #otp: explosive hearts

1 note · View note

brightlotusmoon · 7 years

Text

TMNT and Teen Titans part 1?

I had a very, very involved dream and decided to write down as much dialogue as I could, because if I play it right it could become a new AU fic. It would have the same “Mikey is naturally spiritual with ESP” theme that runs through all my stuff, but this time there are five superheroes who are totally up for turning him into Shiny Mikey whether his brothers are ready or not. Plus, Starfire would just adore him and squish him haaah.

In my dream, The Titans were a blend of Original and Go!, since some of the Go! episodes really are funny and silly and insightful. It’s a trash fire show. But it has moments. I’m hooked on Pretty Pretty Pegasus, okay. The Night Begins To Shine is a new autistic interest by itself. This is what I could scrounge up, very free floating, no real context, but there is definitely room for world building. I’ll need title recommendations. I loved the design of 2D animated 2012 kids during the first crossover with 1987 so I pictured them like that rather than CGI, not just in Jump City but in their own New York.

TMNT Meets Teen Titans (working title)

Scene (?)

“Mikey is…” Leo paused. He shrugged. “Mikey is friendly. He wants to make everyone happy. It makes him happy. There’s not much else, I mean, he doesn’t have hidden layers. He’s a happy-go-lucky fun-loving optimist who uses humor to diffuse tension. What you see is what you get.”

“Yeah, I doubt that,” Robin smirked, draping over the back of the couch with his coffee.

Leo glared. “Scuse me?”

“Everyone has layers,” Cyborg said. “Even the ones where you just see surface stuff. Take Beast Boy. He’s pretty much the same as Mike, right? Except he’s got a surprisingly huge amount of dark depth and intensity.”

Leo stammered, blushing. “W-well, yeah, but…that’s what I meant, like, I know Mikey gets sad, he gets depressed and dark sometimes, like everybody, but–”

“Sounds like you don’t know your youngest brother as well as you should,” Beast Boy smirked wider from the floor.

“Shut up, you little goblin…”

“Aww, is Leo pulling a me?” And Raph sauntered in with Starfire, both sweating after a training session. “Man, she’s like Master Splinter, she keeps going. Leo, you should train with her!” “Raph, they’re insisting there’s a dark side of Mikey that we never see,” Leo said in an odd, wheedling tone.

Raphael frowned. “Dark? Michelangelo? Nahh. Well…maybe. If push came to shove. Like, when I got bit by Fishface, he stayed with me and you should’ve seen how mad he got when Bebop and Rocksteady came near us, took them down like it was nothing. But that’s just ninja skill and athletics, Mikey was always the fastest and most acrobatic. Dark, though, no way. He’s too…sunny.”

“Cheerful,” came Donatello’s, voice, as he finally emerged from Cyborg’s work station, tapping away on a tablet, eyes alight. “Organically optimistic. Anger makes him feel physically sick, although he seems to store a great deal of it – did we tell you about that adventure we had going into his mind?”

“Donnie, can you look at people when you talk to them?” Leo snapped. Donnie sighed and sat on the couch and put the tablet on his lap.

Robin suddenly whirled toward the hall leading to the bedrooms. Raven walked out, Mikey gripping her hand in his and swinging them, a wild grin lighting up his face.

“You smell like incense,” Raph noted.

“We were in the astral plane!” Mikey chirped. The three brothers froze. “Raven says I’m one of the strongest spiritual minds she’s ever seen. See? Sensei was right, wasn’t he, Leo?”

“Wait, you meditated willingly?”

“You reached the astral plane by yourself?”

“You can’t be stronger than me!”

Cyborg and Robin exchanged a long, quirked glance.

Raven flushed, carefully eased her hand away, and smiled a tiny smile. “Well…yes. He’s strong. His aura is very…encompassing. Cuddly. Strong. Bright.” She looked up. “Dangerous.”

“Is not! You just said cuddly.”

“I meant that it could overwhelm, Mike. You…you hold on to things. People. You love too much. You don’t want to let go. You might not know how. Your emotions are your strength and your kindness is your weapon. Your aura was pulling my aura in like a hurricane. You wanted to connect badly and you relied on your natural charm, but you didn’t have any discipline or specific focus.” She smiled a little wider at him, as his eyes were widening and looking watery.

“Let’s put it this way. If you were like me, you could envelope an entire city in your aura and no one would even know. You could project nothing but calm and happiness and it would still be a problem because nobody would know anything else.”

“Ya mean…brainwashing?” Mike’s lower lip trembled.

“In less harsh words, sort of. Look.” She took his hands and faced him. “Remember what we talked about once I pulled us back out in there? I’m willing to teach you how to manifest and control these abilities, but that means delving deep into your soul and unlocking all the parts we need.”

“What unlocked parts?” Raph asked. “Mikey’s an open book!” Leo nodded emphatically.

They didn’t notice the very hurt look Mikey shot him. The Titans and Donnie did.

“Mikey,” Don said carefully, “I know you hide everything behind the jokes and the pranks and being loud. After Sensei’s death, your cheerfulness was almost out of hand.” Mikey flinched so hard that Raven tightened her grip. “But you know you can tell us anything. You can tell me anything.”

“But I can’t!” Mike exploded, and his brothers winced in shock. “You expected me to be the goof, so I’m the goof, so I don’t even bother to show you when it hurts!”

“Uhhh…” Beast Boy stood up slowly. “Maybe this should be a private family thing.”

“No,” and Robin folded his arms. “If we’re all going to work as a team to protect both our worlds and our cities, we’re going to get all of this out in the open. Especially as Raven just revealed some incredibly useful and powerful information.”

“Not just that,” Raven said, “What about that time he got electrokinetic abilities after being shredded out of existence? He could still have them, even after nearly a year.”

“When did you tell her about…never mind.” Don bit his lip. “Look, Agent Bishop’s dampener cannon took those powers away because they were overloading him and they were going to burn him out.”

“You sure he was telling the whole truth?” Cyborg asked. “Electrokinesis can be controlled easily enough. Besides, that cannon might not have gotten all the ability, there could be just enough of a spark deep in his central nervous nervous system to ignite and bring at least a portion back. Not enough to be nearly as strong as he was back then, but–”

“COOL,” Mikey cut in, eyes the size of dinner plates.

“Well, Bishop is kind of a lying liar who lies,” Raphael grumbled.

“If I supplied Raven’s powers with an electromagnetic charge,” Cyborg mused, “I bet she could find the part of his brain that still holds the memory of that power and tweak it until it released the ability to call back that specific electrical power…”

“Yes please!” Michelangelo squeaked, bouncing so hard he moved from Raven to Cyborg in a blink, arms wrapped around the metal waist, eyes shining and puppy-begging.

“Plus,” Raven added, “I sensed a strong potential for extrasensory perception, which would make sense, since he’s connected to Dimension X via the mutagen’s affects on his particular brain pattern and wiring.”

“Are we sure it’s a good idea, rooting around in Mikey’s brain?” Leo asked. “It could hurt his brain.”

“Who would know the difference?” Don said automatically, old sibling teasing snapping into place. Every head turned to him. So, their brand of sibling humor was not going to fly here.

“It…it was a joke,” he murmured.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mikey’s wide, lamp-like eyes full of tears. Mike whispered to Cyborg, who ground his teeth and looked ready to punch the other three turtles in the mouths.

Starfire rose higher into the air, eyes glowing. “Am I hearing this correctly? Are you all so accustomed to mocking Michelangelo’s preferred forms of intelligence, expression, input, sensory process, that you would naturally assume he is utterly incapable of being the great warrior he clearly is inside? Has this been happening all your life together?”

Michelangelo shifted, throat clearing. “When…when Sensei gave us our weapons when we were really little, he gave me my nunchucks because he thought they were perfect for me but he never explained why, or who I was, like with the others. So I made them perfect for me. I don’t think anyone ever believed in me. So I pushed all the sadness down until it got buried.”

There was a slight silence.

Starfire erupted in rage, and in a flash, she had grabbed Mikey and was hovering, cradling him like a child, energy flashing and hissing around her. “This is unacceptable! None of you are allowed to speak poorly of him! He is now under my protection as Princess of Tamaran! Shame on you!”

Mikey just stared at her, mouth open.

“From this point onward, Raven and I will take Michelangelo under the wing, and his natural abilities will be allowed to flourish. If any of you say anything mocking his brain, I will threaten to force feed you zorka berries until you choke!”

Leo, Raph, and Don had shrunk back, while Raven and Cyborg were holding back laughter.

“Well,” Raven smiled, “this will be fun.”

46 notes · View notes

mistymoonstorm · 7 years

Text

GMS Fanfiction - Sherlock/MC - Meeting

Partly due to a spell of writer’s block - and partly because I wanted to XD - I took a story prompt from @jane-runs-fast, so this is for you! The prompt is Sherlock meeting the MC from his point of view.

Sorry for the wait, and sorry for the fact that it might be a little boring. As this is a rewrite, I had to borrow a bunch of dialogue from the prologue to keep it consistent, so none of the dialogue here is mine, even if I may have tweaked a little bit. Enjoy!

Sherlock didn’t hear the door start to open, nor Mikah’s excited greeting in return to whomever had come to visit. He was lost in his mind, the conversation between John and Lestrade as they droned on about some boring, uninteresting case merely white noise in the backdrop. Easily ignored.

The most recent episode of ‘The Midfall Murders’ was flashing through his thoughts, tiny scenes and details picked clean of all they could offer him. He often did this while waiting for the next plotline to analyze, lest he be driven to other, less harmless activities to keep him occupied.

Such as firing rounds at the wall, even if Mikah had turned a rather peculiar shade of red the last time he’d done so.

A soft feminine voice sounded over the banister near the entrance to the hall, drawing him from his reverie. Sherlock turned his head slowly. Something was familiar.

“He’s just in here-” Mikah was saying, as the boy’s golden head came into view.

“Stop right there,” said Sherlock, glancing at him sharply. There was a woman behind him, her face mostly concealed by shadows cast from the window. From her posture, he would guess she was- “A flight attendant? No. An actress, since childhood.”

“Don’t change the subject, Sherlock!” growled Lestrade. “John, this is your fault. You’re supposed to keep an eye on him, aren’t you?”

“George,” began John coolly. He sighed. “I’m not Sherlock’s mother. Or his father, obviously. And even if I did keep an eye on him, Sherlock will always be Sherlock. Even the Queen herself couldn’t control him.”

As they were speaking, Irene leaped down from where she’d been lying in Mikah’s arms, darting across the rug. Her tail flicked, irritable from the commotion.

The mystery woman cleared her throat. “Um, they look kind of busy. Maybe I’d better come back another time..“

Mikah half-turned to smile at her. “Don’t worry. They’re always like this.” After he was finished speaking, he moved further into the room. “Alright, guys. No more arguing. We have a guest.” He made a motion to the woman, who hesitated for only a moment before stepping into the light.

Sherlock felt his mind come to a screeching halt, leaving him with a jarring moment of silence where nothing was thought or deduced. Flaxen hair. Amber eyes. Features he recognized even now that his brilliance was failing him.

Guinevere Stark stood in his apartment, lingering somewhat awkwardly near the door even if her squared shoulders warned of confident determination. She wore a faint, nervous smile as she looked briefly over them, as if she’d come here without prior knowledge of what to expect.

“Hello,” she said. Her voice, clear and unobstructed by walls, sent Sherlock further into his spiral.

John held his hand out to her, smiling calmly. “Nice to meet you. I’m John H Watson. Feel free to call me John.” Judging by the look on his face, John already liked what he saw. A muscle in Sherlock’s jaw ticked, but try as he may, he couldn’t manage to do anything but stare.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you John. I believe I’ve read that you’re Mr. Holmes’ assistant?” she asked, shaking his hand.

John’s answering smile was wry. “I suppose so. I’m actually a doctor, but no one seems to know me as that anymore.”

Lestrade offered his hand next. “George Lestrade.”

“He doesn’t look it, but he’s actually a police inspector at Scotland Yard,” said John amusedly.

Lestrade eyed him grumpily, too used to the barbs to get truly angry. “You could have left that part out.”

Guinevere just smiled, shaking his hand as well. “It’s nice to meet you, Inspector Lestrade.”

Her eyes flicked to Sherlock. Almost unconsciously, he sat up a little straighter, his heart squeezing. He was largely unfamiliar with the emotions that ran through him as their gazes met, but they were not unpleasant by any definition of the word.

“By the way,” said Lestrade thoughtfully, breaking their stare. Annoyance washed through Sherlock, his eyes narrowing imperceptibly. “Pardon my asking, but have we met before?”

John shook his head, exasperated. “George. That’s a little rude. Honestly, everyone sees where you’re trying to take this.”

Mikah was quick to nod his agreement. “Yeah. That’s a pretty old pick-up line, huh?”

Lestrade floundered, ears reddening. “W-wait! No! I wasn’t trying to come on to her! I really have seen her somewhere before!”

John glanced back to Guinevere. Comprehension lit his eyes. “..Hold on. Now that you mention it, I think I have seen her somewhere.”

Guinevere’s lips twitched. She was obviously used to this. “That’s probably because I’m-”

Sherlock’s brain finally snapped back to life, running a million miles a minute. He had so much he wanted to say, to ask. Before his conscious could catch up, his mouth was already moving. “So you’ve come to hire me? If it turns out to be a boring assignment, I’ll be quite upset.” His tone was frosty, his words biting.

He immediately wanted to take it back, but could not. So he continued.

Sherlock rose from his chair, striding briskly to where Guinevere stood, stiff with shock. “Let us review. You’re an actress. You started acting as a child, and now you’re preparing for your first lead role. You don’t have any fans who present you with money or gifts.”

Lestrade watched them quietly. “An actress? You were saying something about that before she showed up here, weren’t you?”

But Sherlock wasn’t listening. His focus was on Guinevere, on the shifting emotions she was displaying.

He saw her surprise fade into confusion, then understanding. She had clearly settled on the fact that he must know her purely from the television. She was wrong.

“After rehearsal, you came straight here-” He cut himself off, cocking his head. “No. You stopped by a cafe.”

“Aha!” exclaimed John from the other side of the room. “I’m sure I’ve seen her before. She’s-”

“You had cinnamon tea at Lucci & Mason,” said Sherlock. The scent of the spice clung to her, however indistinct. “And you’re also the one who figured out the answer to that quiz I gave Mikah, aren’t you?”

It was a rhetorical question. He knew the answer.

“Aww.” Mikah sighed. “So you figured out I wasn’t the one who solved it. I knew you would.“

Sherlock continued to observe Guinevere’s changing expressions, unconcerned by the growing chaos from the others. She was staring at him, eyes wide.

Then she was beaming up at him, brighter than the sun. “Amazing! You’re just as good as they say in the newspapers, Mr. Sherlock Holmes.”

Heat rose in Sherlock’s chest and drifted up his throat towards his ears. “Better, actually,” he said, using his most indifferent tone in an attempt to combat the flush he felt creeping on him from her praise.

John was still excited about his ‘discovery’ behind them, trying to catch Sherlock’s attention. “Listen, Sherlock! She was in-”

“Mikah,” said Sherlock, his eyes still on Guinevere. “Get Ms. Stark some tea.”

Mikah frowned hard at him. “I don’t mind getting tea, Sherlock. But how many times do I have to tell you to not shoot your gun at the wall?” He gestured pointedly to the pattern of holes in question. “If the wall ends up crumbling, I’m not going to just send you a repair bill. I’m going to have you build me an entirely new house.”

Sherlock didn’t spare him a glance. “I’m always careful to not let that happen when I shoot.”

John was already shaking his head. “You have the patience of a saint, Mikah.”

“You’re too patient!” protested Lestrade. “Every time he’s bored, he shoots off that gun, and guess who has to respond to the calls? Think about what that’s like for me!”

This time, Sherlock did look at them, though there was no apology for them on his tongue. “All I’m doing is having a little fun to stave off the boredom, yet every time I do you come barging in here. Think about what that’s like for me, Lestrade.”

Lestrade’s mouth fell open. “Excuse me?!”

Guinevere just stared, unsure what to say.

John took pity on her, touching her arm lightly and leading her towards the couch. “Don’t worry. They’ll stop soon. Just have a seat over here, Guinevere.”

She smiled, though her eyes were still troubled. “Thank you.”

Mikah was already disappearing into the kitchen. “I’ll get some tea!”

“Just how many shots have you fired into this wall? The holes seem to spell out letters,” Lestrade was saying, squinting at the pattern.

Sherlock regarded him with disdain. “They’re initials. H.L.”

Lestrade blinked. “Whose initials?”

“Yours. Harold Lestrade.”

Lestrade’s face went crimson. “My name is GEORGE! You should know that by now!”

Sherlock waved him off, apathy returning now that his moment of weakness was cooling. “I use every last bit of my brain’s processing power, so I always delete unnecessary information from my internal memory.”

It made perfect sense to him, but Lestrade apparently thought otherwise. “Are you saying my name is unnecessary information?!”

Sherlock ignored his outrage, sitting back down in his chair just as Irene hopped onto the arm. He stroked her absentmindedly beneath the chin.

“This is a surprise,” John said to Guinevere, smiling. “I never expected you to show up here. To tell you the truth, Sherlock is a big fan of ‘The Mid-’”

“She has good posture, and from her movements, the way she walks and the clarity of her voice, I can tell she’s had formal training in each,” interrupted Sherlock, as he returned to studying her.

“Hey, Sherlock.” John frowned at him. “I’m talking to her right-”

“She’s with three men she’s never met before, and yet the smile on her face is very natural, not timid or nervous. She’s used to having all sorts of people she doesn’t know look at her.”

“So you’re telling me to shut up then? Alright. I’ll shut up.”

“When she breathes, she doesn’t raise her shoulders or chest. That’s because she learned to breathe from the abdomen when she was a child. In other words, she’s been acting since she was a child. For the most part, she’s not wearing brand-name clothing, and her jewelry has been passed down from her mother. So she doesn’t have any fans giving her money or gifts.” He paused as understanding dawned on her face. She’d figured out that he was explaining for her benefit. “A script is visible within her bag. It’s too early for her to be coming back from a performance. She’s on her way back from a rehearsal. Judging by how worn out that script is, and the number of pages you have labeled as well as their distribution throughout the book, you’re playing a major role. The title of your play is written on the spine of the script. In that particular play, the only major role played by a young woman is the female lead - the heroine. So you’re new to major roles, and they have high hopes for you.”

“A moment ago you were saying that I drank cinnamon tea at Lucci & Mason’s,” said Guinevere. She gazed at him curiously. “Could you tell that just by looking at me?”

“No,” replied Sherlock evenly. “Your fingertips give off a faint aroma of cinnamon. That’s because just earlier you were stirring tea with a cinnamon stick. The only place in London that serves Ceylon cinnamon from Sri Lanka is Lucci & Mason.”

Though he did not usually feel pride from his deductions, he felt it now, blossoming in his chest as Guinevere smiled.

“Okay then. How did you know I solved that quiz you gave Mikah?”

“Mikah always passes by Lucci & Mason when he takes his walk, and rushes when presented with a deadline, so his judgement is not always what it would otherwise be. It was a simple quiz, but I did not expect him to bring me the solution before time was up. And yet he did. Mikah is friendly by nature, but the tone he used with you showed that he liked and felt gratitude towards you. This is because he met you on the road, and you told him the answer to his quiz. And there you have it.”

“I guess I did make the right choice in coming to you for this, Mr. Holmes.” She was still smiling, but unlike those she had shared earlier, this one was tinged with relief.

Though his mind was quickly processing this new development, Sherlock’s face did not change. “And you’re just now realizing that?”

John quickly stepped in, grinning. “What he means to say is that he’s glad you think so.”

Guinevere laughed. “It’s okay, John. It doesn’t bother me.”

“So she’s a saint, then,” said Lestrade, blinking. “She’s too good to be your client, Sherlock.”

“Quiet.”

“Yes, sir,” he muttered sarcastically.

“I’m done with my little show,” Sherlock said, once again addressing Guinevere. “I’ve shown you what I can do, now it’s your turn to talk, Ms. Stark. I hope your request won’t be one I find boring.”

It was a bluff, of course, even if he refused to actually admit it. He would take any case that came from her, regardless of its actual level of mystery.

End

#guard me sherlock #fanfic #sherlock holmes #first meeting #rewrite #writing prompt

18 notes · View notes

sarahburness · 5 years

Text

How 5 Simple Habits Made Me Love My Life More

“Good habits are worth being fanatical about.” ~John Irving

Your habits are directly related to the quality of your life. Good habits lead to joy and fulfillment in your life, while not-so-good habits leave you yearning for your life to be different.

I think I always knew that, I just wished I took it to heart sooner. Better late than never, right?

Gretchen Rubin, author of Better Than Before: What I Learned About Making and Breaking Habits, says that “Habits are the invisible architecture of our daily life. We repeat about 40 percent of our behavior almost daily, so our habits shape our existence, and our future. If we change our habits, we change our lives.”

I’ve spent far too much time in my life languishing in worries and regrets, wondering why life had to be so hard. I looked for outside sources to come in and save me. No rescuer ever came, at least not one that made a permanent difference.

I’d always wind up on the same boat: wondering why others seemed so content with the lives they were leading while I continued to have a burning desire for something different—something I really couldn’t even name, though I tried in vain to do so.

I set big goals and made big plans that I was certain would make all the difference for me. Usually, my big goals and big plans wouldn’t live beyond the next new moon. Even when they did, though, the things that I thought would make me happy didn’t. The things that I thought would bring me peace only annoyed me for their utter lack of peace-creating properties.

By profession, I’m a strategist. I look at all the many things that contribute to situations being a certain way and explore ways to move the situation toward where I want it to be. Turns out, sometimes you don’t have to overhaul anything; sometimes, small, simple tweaks can make a big difference.

As the saying goes, it takes large sails to move a large ship, but the captain need only make a small adjustment to the rudder to change the direction. The other part of the saying is there’s no point in adjusting the rudder if the ship is not moving; you won’t go anywhere.

Your daily habits are the small rudders hat can help you move your life in the direction you wish. Choosing good habits day after day is the movement required to experience the positive life changes you’re seeking.

I like to think of myself as an intelligent person, but what I neglected to see in my own life is that the smallest tweaks done day in and day out have the power to move the mountains I want moved. When my eyes opened to the power of small changes practiced daily, miracles began to unfold in my life.

Below are some of the simple daily habits I’ve worked to incorporate into my life that are making such a huge difference for me.

1. Meditation

Yeah, yeah, I know. Everyone says meditate, but did you ever consider that maybe all those meditation-lovers are offering an you an insider’s tip (pun intended) that in fact is actually priceless?

I have an overactive mind, as many people do. It loves to tell me about all its worries and warn me of threats that in reality aren’t all that threatening—nothing more than a mouse posing as a monster most of the time.

My mind loves to relive situations and conversations over and over and over; it’s so tiring! I’ve found that the antidote to my endless chattering mind is daily meditation.

I don’t do anything complicated. I just sit in a relaxing position, tune into serene instrumental music on Spotify, and focus on my breath. Anytime I notice that my mind is wandering (as it always does), I return my focus to my breath. In times of silence answers seem to arrive to incredibly insightful questions I didn’t even know I should ask.

2. Kind, loving self-talk

In the past, my inner dialogue wasn’t all that friendly. In fact, I was my own worst enemy, a relentless bully whose malicious words would leave me disheartened and unable to face the world with any sense of self-worth or confidence.

I didn’t come by this demeaning self-talk accidentally. Its roots go back to my childhood.

I grew up in a Roman Catholic home with seven children (another sibling died before I was born) and two overworked, exhausted parents who were flat broke all the time.

My father struggled with alcohol addiction and mental illness. This, along with my mother’s enabling patterns plus her own low self-esteem and depression issues, defined how the house was run.

The focus of the entire household was on managing life around dad’s issues.

Growing up, it seemed to me that nothing I ever did was good enough for my dad, though I tried so very hard to please him. I craved his love and positive attention. He either ignored me or criticized me, and when he criticized me he often did so in the most brutal tone.

I took to adopting that brutal tone in my inner dialogue and kept up the cruel inner monologues for years and years. I rationalized that I was just keeping my standards high, because who wouldn’t want to have high standards, right? A father would only criticize his daughter to help her improve, right?

So I kept criticizing myself; it never occurred to me that dad lashed out at me because his whole life seemed like a mess, so by God, the one thing he would have control over was his children.

There I was as an adult, using unrelenting, vicious self-criticism as a way to be perfect so I could get the love and attention I sorely wanted from the people in my life. It was a strategy that was never going to work; it had to go.

After examining my bitter, demeaning inner voice, I realized that I would never treat another human being this way, so why was I permitting this type of untenable talk go on inside me? I deserve better—we all do!

Now when those critical thoughts come up I’m patient with myself without buying into the scolding voice that’s offering up the hypercritical self-assessments.

I look at the scared girl behind those ugly comments and extend my deepest love to her. You see, while I refuse to allow my inner critic to talk to me in vile ways anymore, I also recognize the only reason I ever talked to myself that way was out of a deep need for belonging and protection. There was a call for love behind those ugly words, and now I simply acknowledge that deep desire for self-love without chastising the hurting girl who was trying to get my attention in the only way she knew how.

3. Follow the five-second rule

I love Mel Robbins, and the day I learned about her five-second rule was a very important day in my life. (And I’m not talking whether it’s still safe to eat food that’s only had five seconds of contact on the floor—that’s a whole different discussion!)

In a nutshell, here is Mel Robbins’ five-second rule, in Mel’s words: “The moment you have an instinct to act on a goal you must count five-four-three-two-one and physically move or your brain will stop you.”

So, you’re not a “morning person” but you have a goal of getting up earlier in the morning? Then the moment your alarm clock goes off, count five-four-three-two-one and jump out of bed. No more hitting the snooze alarm.

Yes, in the moment of those early morning hours, of course you’d rather stay in that warm comfy bed—who wouldn’t? But staying in bed doesn’t align with your bigger goals, and getting up does. If you move within five seconds, you’ll move toward your bigger goals. If you don’t move and allow your clever mind to talk you into staying in bed for “just a bit more,” you’re sunk.

If you want to change your life by getting up earlier so you can write that blog you want to write (a-hem, what I’m doing now) or do that exercise you know your body needs, then make those goals your priority over an extra thirty minutes of sleep and use the five-second rule to help you get your body out of bed.

Adopting the five-second rule is one of the best habits I’ve ever taken up. For the sake of full transparency, I admit I’m not always successful at sticking to the rule, but the more I try, the more I succeed.

“If your habits don’t line up with your dream, then you need to either change your habits or change your dream.” ~John Maxwell

4. Feed my mind

I’ve always considered myself to be a learner, though in actuality I get lazy about learning. It’s hard to improve your life if you’re never giving your brain any new information. Feeding my mind on a regular basis has become a top priority for me.

My “feeding my mind” goal looks something like this: one retreat a year, one book a month (that I can either read or listen via audio), one podcast a week, and one smart article on something I want to learn about each and every day. I’ve found that starting the process builds momentum; I often crush my minimum goals!

Feeding my mind in healthy ways also means giving up some unhealthy habits. I’m extremely careful about how much news I watch nowadays. While I don’t want to keep my head in the sand, I find it’s important to limit the number of negative messages I allow into my mind, and news channels are notorious for going over the same disturbing stories again and again. I make time in my days for my extra reading and personal growth activities by getting up earlier and limiting my Netflix and HBO time.

I’ve also modified my budget so I can afford the audiobooks and retreats I want to buy. My clothing and dining out budget is about half of what it used to be, and it’s a trade-off I’m happy to make.

The habit of feeding my mind is opening up whole new worlds for me. I can’t tell you how often I’ve read about something and the perfect opportunity comes up for using what I’ve learned in both my professional and personal life. Louis Pasteur said, “Fortune favors the prepared mind,” and I couldn’t agree more!

5. Do something outside my comfort zone at least once a week

If I were a more ambitious soul, I might put a “once a day” rule on this habit, but for now once a week works nicely for me. The habit of doing the same things the same way every day is life draining, while the habit of stretching outside your comfort zone regularly is life expanding. I’d rather see my life expand rather than to contract and shrivel, thank you very much.

Today, I regularly practice being brave—allowing myself to be seen, allowing myself to be vulnerable and unskilled at new things. I don’t tiptoe outside my comfort zone anymore; I’m even willing to take huge leaps.

I quit a job that I’d been in for twenty-two years without having the next job lined up. I moved 2000 miles from family and friends to live in a beautiful part of the world where I’ve always dreamed of living.

I now work in freelance, consulting, and coaching roles, which means my income fluctuates a lot. I’m not always certain how much money I’ll earn each month; I could have never tolerated that degree of uncertainty before.

It’s surprising how much your life can transform in miraculous ways once you’re willing to not be perfect in your own little world but instead actively choose to be imperfect in a world that might judge you.

When you take risks that might leave you flat on your back, but also might enable you to soar. I’ve found that bravery is rewarded, maybe not always in the moment, but always in time. I encourage you to be brave; it’ll change your life!

About Janette Novak

Janette a confidence coach and the founder of Believe And Create, BelieveAndCreate.com, a personal development initiative that helps people believe in themselves more fully and create lives that they love. Janette also owns Illuminate Marketing Communications IlluminateMarCom, a digital marketing agency that specializes in content marketing. She lives in Flagstaff, AZ.

Web | More Posts

Get in the conversation! Click here to leave a comment on the site.

The post How 5 Simple Habits Made Me Love My Life More appeared first on Tiny Buddha.

from Tiny Buddha https://tinybuddha.com/blog/how-5-simple-habits-made-me-love-my-life-more/

0 notes