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serendipitous-magic · 3 years

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Luke and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad 72 Hours

Imagine you’re a 19 year old working on a farm, and one day you buy some new animals from traveling merchants to help out around the farm - let’s say a goat and an ostrich. You’re cleaning them and getting them ready to work when you notice that the goat has a message tied around its neck. It sounds like the message might be intended for the kooky old guy who lives by himself out in the wilderness. You’ve met the guy a few times, you might even consider him a friend, but he’s mostly a mystery. You ask your uncle if he knows anything about it, but first he denies any knowledge and then he says the intended recipient of the message knew your dead father, and then he abruptly tells you to forget all about it.

Okay, weird???

That night, the goat runs away. The ostrich is freaking out about it. You go after it with the ostrich the next morning and find it making its way towards the old hermit’s house, but you’re attacked by a local gang and knocked tf out. When you wake up, the old hermit is there, and he takes you back to his place and drops the bomb on you that apparently your dead dad wasn’t who your family told you he was?? Apparently he wasn’t a navigator on a fishing boat, he was a pilot and a samurai warrior, and he was fucking murked by his samurai buddy??? And while that earth-shattering revelation is still fresh in your mind, Hermit Dude reads the rest of the Goat Message. Apparently it’s from a princess, and she’s asking Hermit Dude for help in a massive civil war that’s been going on. She says this goat is a Very Important Goat, and it’s carrying information that’s essential to the war effort that could restore prosperity to the entire world.

Hermit Dude then immediately sits back, looks you in the eye and without preamble says, “You’re going to have to learn how to be a samurai warrior if you’re gonna come with me to the big city and help this chick and save the war effort.” And you’re like “??? learn?? to be a samurai?? Big city?? What in the frick frack paddywack are you babbling about? Listen dude I got shit to do, I can’t just go off on this wild goat chase. But look, if it means so much to you I’ll give you a lift to the nearest town so you can go on your own.”

But on the way to town, you come across those traveling merchants you bought the goat and ostrich from - all dead, their caravan trashed. “This wasn’t the gang,” Hermit Dude says, “The government did this, and made it look like it was gang activity. They were looking for your Goat Message.” You race back home, only to find the smoldering remains of your farm, and the charred skeletons of your family laid out on the doorstep.

With nothing to do, nowhere else to call home, and a newfound revenge-driven fury in your chest, you return to Hermit Dude and say, “Make me a samurai like my apparently-murdered father, yo-yo master Hermit Dude. I’ll go help the war effort with you like the princess asked.”

So you all head off to this shady-ass small town run by crime lords. The government is already there, looking for the goat, and Hermit Dude hypnotizes these two military guys like it’s no big deal, sooooo apparently he can just do that? Okay, neat, neat, neat. Hermit Dude then chops somebody’s fucking arm off right in front of you in a bar fight (what the fuck), and long story short you end up selling your car so you can hitch a clandestine ride to the Big City in this fast-talking cowboy’s RV, which looks like it’s held together with spit and duct tape. Cowboy Guy’s best friend is this 7-foot-tall dude with so much hair and beard that he could probably hide weapons in it. The military arrives and you barely make it out of the parking garage, and you end up in a fucking car chase before you make it to the highway and get the hell outta dodge.

BUT THEN you finally arrive at the Big City, and it’s gone. There’s nothing there, just the ruined wasteland of nuclear rubble where the government dropped the bomb (which by the way was JUST invented). And as far as you know that’s??? Never happened before?? So, that’s terrifying. (Also keep in mind your home was razed and your family was brutally murdered like less than 24 hours ago so THAT’S still fresh.)

There’s one little government truck that sees you and takes off. Cowboy is like “Let’s shoot their tires out before they go report to somebody,” but there isn’t anybody around to report to. EXCEPT FOR THE CITY-SIZED BATTLE STATION ON WHEELS THAT ABDUCTS YOU, RV AND ALL. What the fuck is this? Since when did this exist??? They pull the RV into their parking garage, but you hide under the floor panels, surprise-attack some soldiers and steal their uniforms. You sneak into a control room, hoping to shut down the station’s power and escape, but while Hermit Dude goes to cut some power cords, you notice some records lying around. And, hey, what’s this? The princess that wrote the Goat Message? She’s here on Massive Battle Station? SCHEDULED TO BE EXECUTED??? Well, of course you can’t let that happen! Cowboy is grumpy about it but you manage to convince him.

Using your military disguises, you manage to find and save the princess from her cell, almost get crushed to death in a trash compactor while escaping from the prison section, and arrive back at the parking garage pursued by hordes of soldiers - only to witness Hermit Dude, your only remaining link to your home and your old life, get sliced in actual half right in front of you.

There’s another one for Trauma Bingo!

(P.S. you’ve also now killed several government soldiers in your escape. You’ve now killed people. You’re a killer.)

You manage to escape in the Duct Tape RV with Cowboy, Beard, Princess, Ostrich and Goat, but you’re followed by some government cars. You climb up on the roof to engage in an at-speed shootout with them, because after the last 36 hours, this is the least weird thing you’ve done. Firefight with government forces? Yeah, sure, what the hell. No big deal, honestly.

So now not only are you family-less and homeless, but you’re DEFINITELY on some sort of government list of known criminals. Guess there’s no going back now; you’re part of the rebels whether you want to be or not! Thankfully you’ve still got that grief-driven justice quest going on, doubly compounded by witnessing the murder of your mentor.

The RV makes it to the secret base where the rebels have been hiding. The Very Important Goat is finally delivered, and it coughs up plans for the gigantic battle station. So far, so good. Except, curses! The government tracked you here! Looks like the fight happens now. Game on, jackass government. Game on. “That’s impossible!” cries one pilot, to which you reply, “Nah, I basically did it all the time back home.” You sign up to fight: a pilot, like your dead samurai dad.

Why was a 19 year old civilian with some bush-plane experience (??) allowed to sign up to fly a fighter plane? We’ll never know.

Also, the goat comes on the plane with you.

Cowboy collects his payment and takes off, which you’re not happy about, but at least you’re reunited with your BFF from back home. So at least you have one single connection to home left.

Until he dies. RIP.

You try blowing up the Enormous Battle Station the normal way, but the disembodied spirit of Hermit Dude appears in your head and tells you to use your Magical Samurai Powers. You do, and succeed in blowing up the Big-Ass Battle Station just as Cowboy arrives again to take out the Big Baddie who killed Hermit Dude. The Traveling Nuke Factory is destroyed, the evil government has taken a big blow, and you get a shiny medal in a ceremony with your new friends.

So, let’s recap. In the last, oh, 2.5 days or so, you’ve gone from living your everyday life to seeing everything you know and love destroyed, to becoming a traitor to the evil government and a rebel, to fighting in (and winning) an intense military battle thanks to your fledgling Magic Powers, to now being the poster child of the rebellion.

You need therapy.

But at least the goat’s okay.

#star wars is wild #star wars #a new hope #sw: a new hope #luke skywalker #this is why luke went dark in ESB #the kid needs hella therapy

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the-odd-job · 3 years

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Ashes of Icarus chapter 3 - Is He Wrong?

Rating: Explicit Warnings: Chose Not to Use Category: Other Fandom: Transformers Characters: Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, Prowl, Cliffjumper, Ironhide (brief) Relationships: Megatron/Sunstreaker, Sideswipe & Sunstreaker Additional Tags: Dubcon, Unplanned Pregnancy, Mechpreg, Sticky Words: 2355

These chapters are so short it’s a motherfucking pleasure after dealing with harem AU.

( Previous )

If it had been just one time, that’d be its own thing. The timing would’ve been way off, but even so… Everyone admired Sunstreaker until they got even somewhat used to his beauty and didn’t immediately allow it to distract themselves every time they saw him.

If Megatron had been doing just that, it’d be one thing. Ogle him for his looks a bit, then move his attention back to more pressing matters, like winning a war.

But he’d done it repeatedly. The latest battle was only one instance of it.

And even weirder was that they’d fought their little war on Earth for quite some time already. Not long by Cybertronian standards for sure, but still. There had been battle after battle, as small in scale as they were here. Megatron had seen him several times before without paying much attention to him.

So what had changed? Why did he suddenly find the sovereign leader of the Decepticons staring at him in the middle of battles? Did it mean something?

How could it not mean something? It was so… Intentional. They weren’t just fleeting glances to determine the position and intent of an enemy, no.

This was staring. Prolonged and focused.

What did Megatron want?

Good sense said it could be nothing good. Nothing was ever good when it came to the Decepticons, and least of all when it came to Megatron. He was the number one enemy of any Autobot, the one mech who had thrust all of Cybertron into a bloody war that had obliterated the numbers of their entire species…

He’d brought about only bad things, many on this side of the war would say. He was the walking embodiment of wrongdoing of the most severe degree. The blood he’d verifiably spilled could have filled oceans, and that wasn’t even going into the rumors of what he’d done, caused, or ordered.

Sunstreaker should have been… What? Horrified that he was getting Megatron’s attention like that? Displeased at the very least. Fearful?

He wasn’t.

Sideswipe glanced at him where they sat side by side at their corner table. Sunstreaker had barely drunk his energon, too busy sorting out his own head. He’d stared at the cube a lot, though. It was surprising it hadn’t already combusted from being the sole recipient of his attention.

And Sideswipe, he wasn’t rushing or pushing him, just enjoying the rollercoaster of Sunstreaker’s thoughts, amused. That was Sideswipe for you. Well of acceptance and good spirits, as easygoing as they came. Most of the time, anyway.

Even now, as Sunstreaker’s thoughts started down a path no good Autobot’s should have, Sideswipe didn’t say anything. Didn’t judge.

Didn’t particularly care, either. He trusted Sunstreaker to have it, whatever it was. That was what they were trying to define, right then.

Because there wasn’t any negative emotion in him when he thought about Megatron’s stare on him. It was Megatron, for Primus sake. Leader of an entire faction, wannabe leader of all of Cybertron–

An exceptionally powerful individual that could dominate almost anyone he wanted to.

And Sunstreaker had, by all appearances, caught his attention.

He was flattered, that’s what he was. He deserved it, no doubt about it, but… Primus, it was exciting. He hadn’t considered any of it before—hadn’t given Megatron the time of day as anything more than something to annihilate.

Hadn’t thought of Megatron as an individual, but rather as just a concept. Leader of the Decepticons called Megatron, lovely, now kill it.

But Megatron was an individual, and like any individual, he would have his goals and aspirations. A personality that Sunstreaker could build from what he knew, but had never bothered to shape into a living being before.

Megatron was wicked. There was no denying that. But he was also impossibly driven and ambitious. Ruthless. Nothing stopped him when he went after something. He just took, and took, and took. He was a victor, a survivor who had carved his way from the mines, into the Pits, and then onto the centerstage. He was forever written down in history, for better or for worse.

He had come from nothing to be everything.

An unbelievable amount of intelligence, strength of mind, character, spirit, and body, fortitude and will was required to achieve any of that under an oppressive caste system that would have told him he was nothing and to stay down his whole life.

Megatron hadn’t listened.

Look where it had gotten him. Lord Megatron. He had a whole army behind him—Cybertron lay in ruins at his pedes.

And that Megatron had decided Sunstreaker was interesting, in some way.

Yeah, he was pretty sure he should’ve been fearful, concerned, all things considered–

But instead all he could feel was a heady thrill at the thought of what Megatron might want from him—and what he would still do to get it. Some staring across a battlefield could only be the beginning.

Megatron was a Decepticon, though. And Sunstreaker was an Autobot. As an Autobot, the last thing he should have wanted was the personalized attention of the enemy.

Well. He had never pretended to be a very good Autobot. He was too temperamental, too intense, too violent to ever really fit in. Kaon and the Pits were written all over his spark and frame, his mind. He wasn’t made of the softer things the true Autobots were. He wasn’t kind, he wasn’t merciful. He fought and he killed because he liked it, not just because he had to. It was a sport.

No, he was and always had been a bad, bad Autobot. What was some more piled atop that? Bury what he should be even further beneath the corpses of the rules he broke.

Sideswipe was wholly entertained by his complete disinterest in even playing the part of a rule-abiding Autobot, but he was one to talk. Sideswipe wasn’t as extreme, but he still enjoyed violence in ways Optimus Prime vehemently disapproved of. And rules? Yeah, Sideswipe had never given a damn about those, because no one was motivating–

“You drinkin’ that or not?”

Sunstreaker’s helm snapped up at the familiar voice he never wanted to hear. Cliffjumper was staring at him—Sideswipe sat up straighter next to him, already prepared for things to take a sharp turn far South.

That was all he and Cliffjumper seemed to ever manage.

Things weren’t starting that well this time either, because Cliffjumper was already sneering at him before he’d even had the chance to do anything. Not to be outdone, Sunstreaker bared his denta in a threat that would inevitably go unheeded, if everything was about to go at all like it always did.

“What do you want?” Sunstreaker growled, pulling his cube to himself and finally taking a drink from it. Pits, it was going to start to crystallize at this rate.

“You seem awful thoughtful,” Cliffjumper said, coming to stand next to the table. No doubt he would’ve leaned across it or something, if he wasn’t a fragging mini. “Didn’t know you even had enough processing power for that.”

Sideswipe snorted, “You’re one to talk.”

Thank you, Sideswipe, for being helpful for once. Sunstreaker grunted in agreement, and Cliffjumper growled at the both of them this time around—before shifting his attention back to just Sunstreaker. “Don’t think I didn’t see you looking at ol’ Megs last battle,” the minibot continued. Sunstreaker’s glare sharpened. “Finally gonna make good on things and switch the damn sides? Already fantasizing about it, huh?”

Red Alert and Cliffjumper, the two mechs that had a forever obsession about them being traitors in the making just because they’d never quite fit in. At least he didn’t have Red Alert breathing down his neck this time, just Cliffjumper.

Sunstreaker narrowed his optics. “Keep dreaming, short stick. You know I’d off you in a sparkpulse if I switched sides. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”

Cliffjumper growled at him. “‘Con talk if I ever heard some! Usual coming from you though, ain’t it? I’m surprised you’re not cozying up with Mirage again, bein’ kindred spirits about this whole thing.”

“Cut the crap, CJ,” Sideswipe said with a roll of his optics. “Just ‘cause you’re always thinking we’re about to jump ship, don’t make it true.”

“Oh yeah? Then what was your brother doing last battle, not fighting the enemy?” Cliffjumper snapped.

For once he had a perfectly good point, but that didn’t mean Sunstreaker appreciated his tone any more than he usually did. “Go frag yourself with a goddamn cactus, Cliffjumper,” Sunstreaker snarled. “I’ll stay a fragging Autobot just to spite you, deal?”

“Like slag you will.” Primus, he just didn’t know when to stop, did he? Sunstreaker growled in warning, the generous mech he was.

Cliffjumper didn’t listen or care. “I say it now, it’s just a matter of time until you’re jumping on Megatron’s spike and begging to fragging join him, the way you were staring at him.”

He’d given enough warnings, hadn’t he? Sunstreaker was off his seat and around the table before Cliffjumper had had the time to do more than take a step back. A yell from the mini and he was sent flying into the not-nearest wall, but this was Cliffjumper. He was back on his pedes as soon as he’d landed, and like the suicidal idiot he was, charging right at Sunstreaker.

That worked just fine for him. Sunstreaker steadied himself and took the impact of the smaller mech bodily ramming into him, and off they were. Cliffjumper may have been a minibot, but he was also a warrior used to fighting those much larger than him.

And Sunstreaker, he was also used to fighting those bigger than him. It put them on more even ground than he would have liked, but he was Sunstreaker.

Of course Cliffjumper eventually ended up pinned on the ground, missing both arms and cursing up a storm. Sunstreaker snarled atop him, bearing his whole weight on the smaller mech and giving him no chances to escape.

Satisfactory.

“SUNSTREAKER!” Ah, he knew that voice too. Sunstreaker let his helm roll in the direction of the doorway lazily, his optics slower to follow to see Ironhide marching towards him, face like a thundercloud. “Prowl’s office. Right now.”

“He started it,” Sunstreaker huffed, but got off his little sparring buddy with just one more kick at Cliffjumper’s side.

Even that was enough to have Ironhide’s engine roaring. Unsurprisingly. He didn’t say anything more though, and Sunstreaker merely stalked past him, just not far enough so to avoid their shoulders colliding. Ironhide growled in offense, but didn’t escalate the situation further.

Sunstreaker wished he would have. Attacking your commanding officer unprovoked was one thing, but given a reason to do so…

Alas, such was not to happen. No one interrupted him on his walk out of the rec room, Sideswipe trailing behind him, snickering to himself. “Oh man, did you see the amount of blood? You tore those lines to shreds, Ratchet’s gonna have to straight up swap ‘em. Poor Cliff. He so should’ve seen that coming.”

Sunstreaker’s agreeing hmph joined Sideswipe’s laughter as they took the route to Prowl’s office. The door opened to them as soon as they pinged for entrance, and a rather severe looking Prowl waited for them on the other side of his desk.

But Prowl always looked severe. The brothers took seats on the chairs in front of Prowl’s desk, practically there just for them.

And then Sideswipe had already lifted his pedes the SIC’s desk, leaning back and crossing his servos behind his helm. “So what’s up today?” he asked with a wide grin that looked far too genuine to belong to a troublemaker of his caliber.

Even if it wasn’t technically Sideswipe in trouble this time.

“You know full well,” Prowl responded, giving the offending pedes a nasty look, but he only glanced at his brother briefly before the cold blue optics had already zeroed in on Sunstreaker.

Sunstreaker raised an optical ridge in challenge.

“Humor me, Sunstreaker. What did Cliffjumper do to deserve that this time?”

“Ran his mouth,” Sideswipe responded at once. “Like he usually does. Someone should teach ‘em to shut the damn thing.

“Oh, right, except Sunny’s been trying to do that since they met, and it hasn’t worked out.”

Excellent summary of the situation, even if Sunstreaker said so himself. He nodded his agreement.

Prowl pinched the bridge of his nasal ridge. “I believe it is pointless to give another speech about how you should be the bigger person.” Yeah, it was. ”Go to the brig and lock yourselves in. One week.”

“Do I get my supplies?” Sunstreaker asked sharply, although they were both halfway out of their seats.

“After relieving Cliffjumper of both of his arms? No.”

“Oh come on–” Sideswipe began to laugh, but Prowl didn’t let him finish. The tactician’s engine revved in warning that had the brothers filing out.

And only once they were in the hallway did Sideswipe properly give into his laughter, stumbling like a drunkard as they headed for the brig. “What did that mean, if you’d only taken off one arm you would’ve gotten your slag?” he cackled. Sunstreaker merely grumbled, significantly less amused that he’d been denied the chance to polish himself for a week. “Oh, you seriously gotta learn to hold back juuuuust enough to still get your concessions. Game the system!”

Well, at least one of them had fun with this. “I think I’d rather deliver the maximum amount of punishment,” Sunstreaker countered as they entered the brig and walked halfway down its corridor before turning into adjacent cells and stepping in. The bars activated on their heels, and the one week timer started to count down.

“Just straight up kill ‘em next time if that’s what you wanna,” Sideswipe suggested.

“And get court martialed?” Sunstreaker asked in return. Bad idea, Sideswipe. A very bad idea.

As one they stepped up the cells’ narrow berths and laid down until there was nothing but a wall between then. “Would shut ‘im up for good, though,” Sideswipe pointed out.

He wasn’t wrong.

( Next )

#transformers #maccadams #sunstreaker #sideswipe #cliffjumper #prowl #ironhide #fic #2020 #ashes of icarus #ashes

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ckret2 · 4 years

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do you think alister if he even has any kind of preference (he could be sex repulsed and all) would have that old 'its not gay if you're the one fucking the other man' mentality (round about way of asking for the same post you made for pen but. for the radio demon)

No, no, see, this isn’t the same as the question I answered earlier at all. The question I answered earlier was “do you think Sir Pent tops or bottoms?” (technically, the “question” i answered was “pen is a bottom” and my answer was “INTERESTING! NO.”) But the question you’re asking is “do you think Alastor defines a person’s sexuality by their sex acts rather than by the people that person is attracted to?” with a side helping of “do you think Alastor has any sexual preferences at all or is he 100% sex repulsed?”

“Which acts does the character think ‘count’ as gay” has no inherent correlation to “which acts does the character enjoy engaging in.” You see the difference. For them to be the same question, we’d have to start off the question by assuming that what acts the character is okay with engaging in is determined by whether or not the character thinks those acts are gay. Conflating what they think is gay with what they’re okay with doing implies that you’re assuming a whole lot about that character’s personality, how much internalized homophobia that character is dealing with, and how fragile that character’s sense of masculinity is, and I’m pretty sure you don’t actually want to imply any of that!

So if you want me to answer the same question I answered earlier, then come back and ask that question, not a roundabout version of the question that’s in fact a very, VERY different question. In the meantime, I’m going to answer the question that you actually asked: “do you think Alastor has 'it’s not gay if you’re penetrating’ beliefs about sexuality?”

The tl;dr is: big shrug, I dunno. Seems possible based on what little I DO know about the time period but I don’t know enough yet. Also if anyone happens to have resources on queer life/history in 1920s New Orleans, like, please chuck them at me.

Essay below!! Hey tumblr you’d better let the read more cut work, don’t let me down.

As it happens, I’ve actually been trying to figure out how sexuality was viewed roundabouts the 1920s in New Orleans—because I figure Alastor’s views have probably evolved very little since then. I get the impression that he’s very set in his own era; and because he’s sort of in a social bubble—who’s going to try to get close to the Radio Demon?—and doesn’t engage much with current mass media, he’s more or less shielded from evolutions in modern culture.

(Compare that to, say, Angel, who sounds very modern—or Charlie, who’s at least a couple of centuries old (probably much more) but also dresses and acts very modern.)

So whatever he thinks about sexuality is going to be rooted in whatever was current when he was alive.

The 20s were actually surprisingly good to queer folks, from what I’ve found so far—there was some VERY gay vaudeville & jazz tracks coming out—but like, I don’t know exactly how good, relatively speaking. Or where. Was it, like, only New York? And/or only San Francisco? I’ve got next to no sources on what was going on in New Orleans. The ONLY fact I’ve been able to find from the era so far is that 1933—the year of Alastor’s death—is the year the first gay bar opened in New Orleans (or, at least, the first one that’s still open today—it relocated but it’s still going). But that doesn’t tell me a lot about the overall environment. All it tells me is “New Orleans wasn’t so homophobic that the bar was burned down immediately, and/or they kept it too secret for that to happen.” That’s not a lot to go on.

And all of this is, like, the level of mainstream tolerance/acceptance toward queerness. It doesn’t tell me what people actually believed then.

Here’s a paragraph on late-1800s/early-1900s psychological beliefs about queerness that are hella outdated today: one contemporary belief about sexuality called “sexual inversion” basically said that a queer person’s brain was “inverted” gender-wise from the norm—that is, for instance, if you’re AMAB and attracted to men, you’ve got a feminine brain, you’ll like to do feminine things, you’ll want to perform feminine sex acts (ie, be the recipient in anal sex), and you’ll probably want to have a feminine body. Basically it conflated being gay and being trans. On the other hand, if you’re AMAB and you’re attracted to a feminine AMAB “invert,” you’re more or less still straight, because you’re attracted to someone with a feminine brain so like that’s more or less a woman psychologically speaking. By modern standards this whole framework is very “oh yikes” but like… ours probably will be seen as cringy in 50 years; and psychologists who believed in sexual inversion generally advocated in favor of letting inverts live in alignment with how their brains told them to, which was a big step forward.

So that was a theory going around. But like, how widespread was it? I know a book about lesbian inverts was written in the late '20s to try to make the term more widespread but idk whether it succeeded or to what extent. Was it a term ONLY being used in psychiatric circles and a handful of people who picked up the book? Was it restricted to certain metropolitan centers? If you went to a drag ball, did people introduce themselves as inverts? (Did they have drag balls? I know they did in mid-Victorian England but that doesn’t tell me much about what was being done in 1920s USA, much less New Orleans.)

And as far as I can tell, the idea of “sexual inversion” was the first time that a framework was presented in Western society where queerness was presented as something inborn rather than a choice people make to go screw someone they “shouldn’t” screw. There was a shift around the 20th century from “gayness is an action that you perform, people can perform the act or not perform the act but they’re basically all the same on the inside” to “gay is something that you ARE, on the inside,” but WHEN exactly did gayness shift from an action to an identity? And when did that shift happen in New Orleans? Knowing when it happened in NYC or some shit isn’t gonna do me any good if, say, it didn’t happen in NOLA for another two decades.

So like obviously I need to find a lot more research on queer history in that region and decade before I can give a super firm answer about what Alastor’s opinions/beliefs are.

I’m toying with the idea that Alastor did spend some of his life in NYC, though; like, he didn’t just casually pick up a Mid-Atlantic accent on the streets of Nawlins. He might’ve picked it up from talkies—although he would’ve had to spend a LOT of time at the movies studying specifically to copy the accent. I know the Mid-Atlantic accent was big in theater, but was that also the case in NOLA, or only in New England? Were there, like, traveling Broadway shows then like there are today? I’m inclined to believe that Alastor actually studied theater at some point in order to pick up the accent, which probably means going to some theater school in the northeast. We know he was into theater, being trained as an actor before going into radio makes sense to me. (He also could’ve learned it at a fancy expensive private school, but I prefer headcanoning him as from a lower background than that.) So maybe he spent some time living in NYC before going back home to NOLA, so if I really really can’t find anything on 20s NOLA I can focus research on NYC instead and say “he picked up his opinions there.” That’s my plan B.

I know that, WHATEVER the 20s NOLA queer community was like, I want to headcanon Alastor was sort of in it but also sort of on the fringes of it—like, due to his very conspicuous (conspicuous to himself) lack of normal/expected attraction to the people he knew he was “supposed” to be attracted to, he sort of felt a draw to the company of other folks who were conspicuously not attracted to who they were “supposed” to be—but he never really felt super deep ties to that community because, one, he just naturally forms very shallow relationships in the first place, and, two, he wasn’t hanging out in queer spaces looking for a relationship or a date or an opportunity to express some hidden side of himself so much as he was looking for a place where he wasn’t being weighed down by The Mainstream Expectations. But you can still be weighed down, albeit to a lesser extent, by The Counterculture Expectations, too. So, he was comfortable enough in queer spaces, but remained just sort of on the edges—was probably recognized by sight by other folks in NOLA who frequented queer events but wasn’t anyone’s best friend. Kinda shows up and makes small talk and goes home.

So, what sort of opinions and beliefs would he have absorbed from those edges? And how would they have been influenced by his own ace/aro perspective, from which ALL talk of sex and romance, whether queer or straight, is a foreign perspective that he could intellectually learn about but not ever really FEEL on an instinctive/gut level the way allo folks do?

I don’t know yet. Gotta find the right research materials first!

So tl;dr anon I don’t know yet whether he thinks taking it up the ass makes someone gayer than putting it in the ass.

#alastor #headcanons #meta #hazbin hotel #anonymous #ask

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coastalhorrors · 5 years

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Okay, Well Thats Not Good

RECIPIENT #32 FROM THE @oumasaiexchange IM SO SORRY THIS IS SO LATE. I hope I wrote this well enough for your liking, again I am so Very sorry.

Words: 1,876

“Hey Cockichi, stop daydreaming of pegging that lame excuse for a detective and help us with this project.”

Kokichi glared at Miu, dodging her foot from under the table. “What the hell do you idiots need help with now?”

“We're missing a piece”, Tsumugi said digging through a box of screws and bolts. “Well, not so much missing, just already been used.” She tipped the box over, spilling the contents all over the carpeted floor and herself, searching for the piece. Failing to find it ultimately.

Rantaro peaked over her shoulder, picking lightly through the pieces, “We'll also need a few of the larger screws, the base cant handle support with only the small ones.”

“Okay yeah, but I can't just pull screws out of my ass y'know.” Kokichi replied. Miu turned back to him, and if dropping hot coffee on yourself could be conveyed in a single expression, she was succeeding immensely.

“You're gonna have to go down to my workshop, there are more screws in there.”

Tsumugi looked up from her pile of bolts and screws, “Grab another screwdriver too please, Rantaro’s hogging the last one.” Rantaro flicked one of the screws he was messing with towards her in response, sticking his tongue out but keeping his face emotionless.

That was the last he saw of there conversation before he was pushed out of the Ultimate Adventurers room with Miu's keys in hand. He stood there for a second and rolled his eyes, slowly slothing his way to the workshop.

Miu's workshop was below all the main dorm levels, very much relatable to a basement, so much in fact if you include the useless junk that lined the many shelves and the weird molding smell. He twirled the keys in his hand as he made his way down the stairs, the lights illuminating the ceilings, dimming as he got lower and lower.

The cold, grey door came into view and he readied the keys to unlock it, stopping the spinning and suddenly, everything was happening at once.

The keys flew from his loose grip, up towards the dim flickering light above, completely shattering the glass. He raised his arms up quickly as dust and shattered glass rained from above him, some of the glass fell straight onto his exposed hands and broke the skin, leaving a heavy stinging sensation and tiny blood splotches.

‘Fuck’, he thought, bringing his hands down to witness the damage done to his body, only to come face to face with nothing. Of course, he had smashed the light. He mentally smacked himself.

Kokichi was at a loss for what to do next, there was no light, which meant he wouldn't be able to find the keys to Miu's workshop, which meant he wouldn't be able to turn on that light, and even if he did find the keys, he doubted it'd go without any harm done to him with all the glass staining the floor.

He moved his hands in front of him experimentally, reaching towards the staircase railing. Stepping forward slightly, he was glad he had his shoes on before he was kicked out of Rantaro’s room. The glass crunched under him as he made his way towards what he hoped was the direction of the stairs, waving his hands around. He finally felt the lumpy rounded shape of the rail and lifted his foot, setting it down on a stair.

Kokichi let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding and stepped up again. It was a slow process, making his way up the stairs towards some sort of light.

‘Probably shouldn't be dragging my hand over this dirty thing,’ he thought, slowly stepping again, he'd probably get some sort of disease, who knows when the last time this stairwell was cleaned.

A light finally appeared at the top of the stairs, near the peak of the doorway. Letting go of the rail he took a larger step up the stairs and another, and then another one. Reaching the door he swung it open and stepped into the bright hallway. He squinted at the harsh light hitting his face, raising a hand to shield his eyes.

A soft familiar voice came from down the hallway, and he cursed himself. “Kokichi? What're you doing down here?” He lowered his hand a bit, hiding it at an angle behind him, the last thing he needed right now was to be coddled by the person he'd probably wanted to see the least of right now.

“Oh Shuichi, I can't believe you caught me! I'm afraid I can't tell you what I'm up to you see, it's top secret.” He put a finger to his lips with his other hand, placing a grin on his face.

Shuichi cocked his head, his slumpy hair falling over his face in a way that made Kokichi’s heart stutter and his smile falter.

“What's that? Behind your back I mean.” Shuichi pointed towards his hidden arm, attempting to peer over Kokichi’s shoulder to see what he was hiding, stepping forward a little to get a better look.

Kokichi set his hand down by his side and dropped his smile, stepping back, he could feel the hand behind him pulsing with pain as he moved. He probably shouldn't have done that, the slumpy haired boy in front of him raised an eyebrow. Experimentally, he stepped forward again.

Maybe he'd go away if he just kept stepping back. He thought, or maybe he'd reach the end of the hallway and would be able to run away to the other side. He stepped back again. Shuichi stepped forward. Back. Forward. Back. Forward. Back and then back again. Dead end. Stupid school with its idiotic layout.

A small, hollow space found itself fitting uncomfortable between the two boys, as they paused for a moment. Shuichi's face was contorted, eyebrows scrunched together and worried eyes staring straight into him. Kokichi wished he could be anywhere else right now, anywhere else but in front of the person who made his heart quit its job. He tried moving a bit to the side and hissed violently when his injured hand scraped the solid wall.

That seemed to be too much for Shuichi. His worried gaze turned concentrated in a millisecond, going from straight staring to intent searching. “Kokichi…”, he said carefully, there was a slight warning in his tone. It made him panic. Voice laced with silk and venom, Kokichi didn't know what else to do. He seemed at a loss this time. He delicately moved his hand out from behind his back and into the open.

Shuichi gasped upon seeing his hand, eyes trained on it carefully, memorizing every cut and scrape disturbing his ghostly white skin. He reached out carefully, grazing his pale skin, then, with both hands lightly pulling his wrist closer so he could see. Kokichi wrinkled his nose and grimaced, peering through half-shut eyes down at his injured hand.

It was easy to see the damage that had been done, broken skin spidering across the pale surface, like shattered ice on top of a seemingly endless pond. Shuichi seemed to be entranced by the thin strands, watching intensely as a red drop of blood trailed down his thumb and falling to the greyscale floor.

Shuichi spoke slowly but carefully, he like that about Shuichi; always considering things. “What… happened?” His grip tightened around his wrist just a little.

“Funny story actually! I uh…” Nothing came to him, “Broke a lightbulb!” Fuck. Shuichi's eyes widened. He probably wasn't expecting the truth from him this time.

“Come with me.” He said gently but sternly pulling Kokichi’s hand along. Kokichi followed obediently and almost immediately became aware of how close they were. He tripped over his feet as soon as he thought that. Shuichi was practically holding his hand! ‘Oh god, Shuichi is holding my hand. He's holding my hand and taking me somewhere.’ Part of him hoped they were going to a secret place, somewhere far away from everyone else.

But no, he knew they were probably going to the office or to the bathroom to clean up his cuts. He felt a pang of disappointment in his chest just thinking about that. Suddenly Shuichi stopped and he fell straight into his back. A scent of peppermint and coffee filled Kokichi’s senses, and if he were religious, he could've sworn that this was heaven. But he was soon pulled out of his pseudo comatose state and brought back to reality.

He heard a door click open and was dragged into what was probably paradise for a teachers' pet. ‘Or, he thought, a detective.’ Open books and various loose papers were thrown haphazardly across nearly every surface in the small room, which he now realized as a dorm room. Shuichi's room to be exact.

Quickly, he was pulled onto a messy blanketed bed and was told to stay there while Shuichi grabbed some first aid supplies. Kokichi got the chance to look around a little more. He could see pen markings and scribbly markings on thick packets full of what he assumed to be case reports or assorted assignments. There were small scratches on the walls, looking to be from thrown objects. Kokichi never knew Shuichi to be an angry person, but he guessed Kaito does come around from time to time.

Kokichi was thrown out his thoughts when Shuichi came back and sat on the bed next to him, bandages and other nursing objects in hand. He got started on his hand, rolling bandage, over bandage, so calmly it was almost mesmerizing. Kokichi hadn't noticed how much his hand seemed to miss the other boys until they were reunited, they seemed to fit so well together, they could fit so well together.

Kokichi felt his face heat up and his hand twitch. “Hold still.” Shuichi said, shifting to get a better grip on his hand. Kokichi mumbled a half-hearted sorry, his face still a peachy shade. As Shuichi bandaged him up and cleaned his small wounds, Kokichi found himself getting drowsy, there was something so calming about Shuichi that just put him at ease.

He didn't remember falling asleep. All Kokichi knew was that he never wanted to leave the warmth that was enveloping him right now. He took a few deep breaths, taking the moment in stride and smelt something familiar. He was surrounded by ground coffee and the welcoming scent of mint leaves.

Wait.

Kokichi’s eyes shot wide open, but he couldn't see. His eyes were obstructed by something fluffy and black. The hair moved and he saw a patch of pale skin under it, along with a set of closed eyes. ‘Shuichi,’ he thought, ‘oh my god I'm in Shuichi's bed.’ That got him going.

Kokichi attempted to get out from under the arm thrown over his waist, shimmying out shaking. Shuichi mumbled something in his sleep, that made him stop and pause. He looked over at the peaceful looking boy. Black hair strewn about all over his face, framing it like the night sky. It frustrated him to no end, how beautiful the boy he had fallen for was. He frowned

Miu's screws could wait, sleeping a little longer was what mattered now

#oumasaiexchange #my writing #i hope you like this im so sorry

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thesportssoundoff · 5 years

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“Ugh, well I guess so” UFC TUF 28 Finale Preview

Joey

November 25th, 2018

Take a big long deep breath folks because we're about to delve ass deep into four major shows PLUS big time boxing all on the same week. UFC fans and Bellator fans will get to feast on events while Deontay Wilder vs Tyson Fury lurks as the big boy HW boxing clash we've been waiting some time for. The UFC's latest finale for its latest edition of TUF is up first on Friday and it's...well I don't know how to put it necessarily. I feel like it says a lot about THEIR confidence in the talent amassed that this TUF has 11 fights announced with one finale to go. The fights are UFC talents and not a lot of TUF talent so I think they may be aware that FWs and HWs were a stinky pairing. Beyond the two finales though, the proven name fights aren't that bad. RDA vs Kamaru Usman is your main event and I'm all smiles about that one as it's a competent solid headliner between two fighters who are top 10 at the very worst in their division. Joe Benavidez vs Alex Perez is a tremendous veteran vs prospect fight at 125 lbs (since that division still exists for a month or so) plus Bryan Caraway vs Pedro Munhoz is a "fun"-ish veteran vs veteran clash at 135 lbs. At the very least, we can have another long discussion about Pedro Munhoz's fight IQ. Some DWTCS prospects like Roosevelt Roberts, Antonina Shevchenko and Edmen Shabazyan take fights and the rest? Well the rest is the rest I guess.

Fights: 12 (?)

Debuts: Kevin Aguilar, Roosevelt Roberts, Edmen Shahbazyan, Antonina Shevchenko, Boston Salmon, Chris Guiterrez

Fight Changes/Injury Cancellations: 3 (Gilbert Melendez OUT, Rick Glenn IN vs Arnold Allen/Arnold Allen OUT, Kevin Aguilar IN vs Rick Glenn/Ashlee Evans Smith OUT, Ji Yeon Kim IN vs Antonina Shevchenko)

Headliners (fighters who have either main evented or co-main evented shows in the UFC): 4 (Joe Benavidez, Kamaru Usman, Rafael Dos Anjos, Bryan Caraway)

Fighters On Losing Streaks in the UFC: (Tim Means)

Fighters On Winning Streaks in the UFC: (Kamaru Usman, Ji Yeon Kim, Alex Perez, Darren Stewart)

Main Card Record Since Jan 1st 2016 (in the UFC): 19-10-1

Kamaru Usman- 6-0 Rafael Dos Anjos- 3-3 Bryan Caraway- 1-1 Pedro Munhoz- 5-1 Ji Yeon Kim- 2-2 Antonina Shevchenko- 0-0 Edmen Shahbazyan- 0-0 Darren Stewart- 2-3-1

Since this card has two finale fights on it, I went by the top four fights on Wiki, MMAJunkie AND the new UFC site.

Divisional Breakdown:

Bantamweight- 3 Middleweight- 2 Welterweight- 2 Lightweight- 1 Women's flyweight- 1 Flyweight- 1 Heavyweight- 1 Women's featherweight- 1

Too High Up- The TUF Finales

I know I know. The TUF finales have to be on the main card (otherwise why have the fucking finales, right?) but DO they? Are feelings going to get hurt if they're not on here? Is anybody going to write to their congressmen if the main card, likely to push the three hour range, has 30 minutes plus shedded off with the prelims having the finales? You're asking me to watch bad MMA (sorry but it is!) at like midnight. That hurts my feelings. It hurts everybody's feelings.

Too Low- Joseph Benavidez vs Alex Perez

If things stands as they are (and I'm betting they will change) then Alex Perez vs Joe Benavidez will be smack dab in the MIDDLE of the FS1 prelims. Not a prelim headliner mind you but in the middle of the prelims. That's too low. I understand the importance behind pushing fighters in divisions that are NOT falling apart (the Stewart/Shabaz fight and the TUF Finale fights) but this fight being in the middle of nowhere is just disrespectful to the highest degree. Alex Perez will probably do just fine at 135 lbs and Joe Benavidez, even if he's on a long slope decline, is still damn good. Let's not try to ruin this.

Stat Monitor for 2018:

Debuting Fighters (Current number: 32-40-1): Kevin Aguilar, Roosevelt Roberts, Edmen Shahbazyan, Antonina Shevchenko, Boston Salmon, Chris Guiterrez

Short Notice Fighters (Current number: 31-30): Kevin Aguilar, Ji Yeon Kim

Second Fight (Current number: 39- 33-1): Raoni Barcelos, Ricky Rainey, Khalid Taha

Cage Corrosion (Current number: 22-37): 0

Undefeated Fighters (Current number: 31-23-1): Antonina Shevchenko, Roosevelt Roberts, Edmen Shahbazyan

Keeping An Eye On But Not Really; Fighters with at least four fights in the UFC with 0 wins over competition still in the organization:

Twelve Precarious Ponderings

1- It's a little wacky and dare I say gutsy that the UFC's big push on this TUF Finale card would be the three prospects (Roosevelt Roberts, Antonina Shevchenko and Edmen Shahbazyan) who were found off of DWTCS. The Contenders Series has basically become the TUF replacement of sorts; the spot where the real top unsigned talent heads off to find entry into the UFC. TUF is on his 28th US season with over 33 worldwide (three in Latin America, three in Brazil and one in China off the top of my head) so it's not a surprise it's lost some steam at this point. It just is a stark reminder of the power of a new idea in MMA; the TUF dudes who kill themselves for weeks to make weight and fight in an intense tournament style of a lesser interest than the Contender Series guys who exist to get the big thumbs up from Dana White. That's tough to consider but probably where things stand in MMA and will stand going forward.

2- So what happens with the next season of TUF? It was leaked that the new UFC production building will hold the Contender Series, live boxing and kickboxing (as well as other sports like Wushu and amateur wrestling)---but will also be the home for TUF. That is also the case apparently for the China PI as well. At this point the question becomes where TUF will air and not whether or not it'll continue. TUF 29 is coming in some form or fashion and all I hope is that they find a way to shake this format up a smidge. I'm basically dead to the idea that it won't happen and am accepting it. Just try to do SOMETHING with it besides "Here's the content, take it!"

3- I really really really really hope they just abandon the whole "Coaches fight each other!" set up and roll with using the spot as a way for old names to get a payday without fighting. There are plenty of legends out there they're on good terms with who can do some coaching. Use that power for good, man.

4- How badly does Kamaru Usman need a finish? Usman was the back up for Till vs Woodley and figures to be the sort of dude who lives in an eternal state of being just "One fight away" from a title shot. I like Usman a lot----but in some ways he's a victim of his own success more than anything else. He has one finish since the TUF finale that brought him into the UFC and while dominant wins over Demian Maia, Sergio Moraes, Emil Meek and Warlley Alves are absolutely impressive; he's in a division where either big finishers or big talkers are ahead of him. Colby Covington vs Tyron Woodley probably stalls him up his chances of an immediate title shot while Usman has to be cognizant of the fact that Ben Askren lurks in the background assuming Woodley loses to Covington AND Santiago Ponzinibbio is streaking up the rankings. There's also a gooey middle of the pack featuring every action fighter under the sun putting on big finishes and scary performances. That's not counting some Nick Diaz/GSP/Conor McGregor fuckery. RDA is a tough out for any fighter but Usman needs to make a big time statement or risk being the next Tony Ferguson type who was always "One fight away" from the title, requiring a borderline act of God to sneak in and snag an interim title.

5- Did RDA basically burn his last renaissance run? After bad weight cuts and a genuine improvement in talent at 155 lbs, Dos Anjos found hay at 170 lbs with wins over Robbie Lawler, Neil Magny and Tarec Saffiedine. He had a good fight vs Colby Covington but got outworked and outhustled for the most part. Covington jabbed him with frequent regularity, kept RDA reaching on his strikes, gave him no space to breathe and just outhustled him in the clinch and on the feet. Usman is very similar to Colby except his striking is a lot better and his cardio is better too. This is a tough matchup to RDA and you gotta wonder if he's about to go from potential money fight recipient vs Conor McGregor to high level gatekeeper at 170 lbs.

6- The fight between Edmen Shahbazyan and Darren Stewart is an intriguing one. Darren Stewart was one of the better prospects out of Cage Warriors; a fun as shit action fighter who could brawl with the best of them, hit crazy hard and seemed to have the rare ever elusive "upside at 205 lbs" label. He struggled with four straight fights without a win in the UFC but basically saved his job with a FOTN loss to Julian Marquez. Since then he's gone 2-0 including knocking off Charles Byrd in a pretty big fight for him in September. Stewart might be rounding into form and even if his form is just "the guy at 185 lbs who has fun fights and scores the occasional nasty finish" then that's all fine and good to me. The UFC needs that as 185 lbs takes a turnaround. Edmen is a Ronda represented Edmund trained fighter who the UFC signed off a super quick knock out on Dana White's Tuesday Night Contenders Series. It was in many ways the sort of performance that catches the eyes of the UFC but his signing was obviously assisted by Dana's ties to Ronda. The fact he seems to be on the main card is only going to up the pressure.

7- Is Rick Glenn the worst 'good" featherweight on the roster? He's got a positive record in the UFC and has wins over Dennis Bermudez and Gavin Tucker. He's facing short notice fighter Kevin Aguilar who is a really interesting signing. Few dudes bring the violence the way Aguilar has on repeated performances. The problem is Aguilar is up a weight class and has struggled at times with dudes like Glenn.

8- Gonna call Ji Yeon Kim upsetting Antonina Shevchenko. Might look stupid but you gotta call your shots in life!

9- Roosevelt Roberts vs Darrel Horcher feels like a set up for Roberts but I felt the same way about Madge vs Edwards so no chickens shall be counted before they hatch.

10- The bantamweight division is obviously loaded with talent on all levels but this figures to be a very intriguing step forward as two superb talents walk into the division. It took Raoni Barcelos a lot of time to get here but the 31 year old Brazilian made his UFC debut in July with a blow out win over Kurt Holobaugh. He's dropping down to 135 lbs where he'll draw debutante Chris Guiterrez on the prelims. The other big talent is Boston Salmon who will FINALLY make his UFC debut after being signed in July and then just sort of disappearing. Salmon is one of the rare talents to earn a deal despite not getting a finish and it has a lot to do with him just being an uber elite talent that the UFC had been scouting while he developed in LFA/RFA. He was supposed to face Khalid Taha who pulled out although wiki, the UFC site and MMAJunkie.com still has the fight up soooo....who knows?

11- Will any fighters besides the finalists appear on this card? Remember we're at 10 fights now with the finals getting added on Wednesday. Will this be the rare 14 fight card with both semi final fights?

12- Does this show end before 1:30 AM on the East Coast?

#MMA #UFC #TUF #Fight Night #Usman #RDA

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thestraggletag · 7 years

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Mistaken Identity, a RCIJ Fic

Prompt: Tinkerbae Twins Reveal Rumbelle Grandparents

Recipient: @maddiebonanafana

Rating: PG

Summary: There’s nothing quite like having people confuse you and your crush for expecting parents.

Author’s Note: I hope you really enjoy this present, Maddie. I have to admit I struggled with it a lot because I just could NOT make it work as a rumbelle prompt. It just... it felt too difficult. The prompt would naturally venture more into Tinkerbae territory but since the focus is supposed to be Rumbelle and I wanted to give you that I tried hard to make it work and this is what came out. I’m sorry there’s no smut, the story just didn’t naturally go that way. I’m sorry that I had such problems with your prompt but I hope you like how I managed to make it all about Rumbelle in the end! Thanks for all your help!

For anyone who is curious about the products mentioned in this fic Gold and Belle go to this baby store, which I thought was very much in keeping with Tink and Bae’s aesthetics. Except that creepy sheep mobile.

It had taken Bae a year to introduce him to his girlfriend, his old resentment and mistrust making him wary of how things would go. Royce didn't really blame him, after all that had happened between them. He was happy to have been given a second chance at all, really. Cristina- "Please, call me Tink, everyone does"- Green turned out to be a lovely woman. Curious, vivacious and upbeat, and most importantly truly in love with his son. He would have welcomed her in the family even if he'd thought her a horrible person, but thankfully that hadn't been the case. Then again Bae had always been a great judge of character. Not in the way Royce himself was, cerebral and calculating, but in an empathetic way. He saw into the hearts of people.

It was such an ability that first made him distance himself from his father, back when he'd been nothing more than a twisted mass of hurt and anger. And though it had hurt like nothing else in the world had ever had, Royce was glad Bae did it. It allowed him to grow emotionally healthy and carefree, had allowed him to build himself a little family. And had allowed him to, eventually, be open to reconnecting with him, to try to repair what Gold had thought irrevocably broken. And so, little by little, Bae had introduced him to his close circle of friends, his little New York family. Perhaps as a las passive-aggressive gesture he'd started with Fa Mulan, former roommate and chef who took six months to stop giving him the stink-eye. Wendy Darling, though friendly, seemed to always be wary of him, as if she half-expected him to snap at any given moment. Her brothers were little better, though they were a tad more discreet about it.

"Sir, can I help you?"

"I'm waiting for someone."

It had taken Bae weeks to tell him of his first days in New York City, having ran away from his mother's home. At sixteen he'd managed to take odd jobs until landing steady work as a busboy for the restaurant in which Mulan worked. It was her idea to put him up for the night when his landlord evicted him out of the blue but it was her roommate’s idea to sort of adopt him. She'd taken one look at his scrawny teen self and had decided he needed someone. Royce had no doubt Bae had fought tooth and nail against the very notion, still angry at the world and everyone in it, but there had been nothing but love in his eyes when he'd introduced him to "Mama Belle". With a name like that, he'd imagined someone different. Matronly, round, the sort of person that would adopt waifs and strays and keep one too many cats. Reality was... entirely different. Belle French was scarcely ten years older than Bae, a librarian working the Acquisitions department of the NYPL. She was small, even for his standards, and delicate-looking, though incredibly energetic at the same time, a force of nature. Neal found it easier to cave in to her gentle mothering than fight it, even though he was clearly unused to such attention.

Mama Belle was also embarrassingly attractive. A mass of gently-curled brown-red hair, impossible blue eyes, the most enchanting Australian accent he'd ever heard... it wasn't fair. He'd spent the first weeks after meeting her learning how to talk to her in words other than pathetic monosyllabic. Bae, the little shit, seemed to love it. He'd been afraid his father would lash out at Belle, a person who had gotten to be there for Bae when he hadn't, who was privy to a part of his life that Gold was struggling to access. To find him instead falling under Belle's spell was, he often said, karma.

It was Royce's reaction to Belle that finally made Bae introduce him to Cristina, a mechanical engineer working for some Manhattan-based company specializing in green energies or the like, something to do with solar panels that Tink had tried to explain to him at least five times since he'd met her. Fortunately for him his son's girlfriend seemed to be on his side, determined to see father and son working on repairing their relationship.

He considered it a triumph to have been one of the first people to hear about the pregnancy, and the later announcement that they were expecting twins. At forty-seven Royce felt a bit young for grandchildren but he didn't have to pretend to be excited. As unlikely as it seemed he loved children. Children didn't judge, didn't criticise, weren't malicious. Children loved unconditionally, passionately, without pretence or expectations. He'd loved raising Bae, even though they'd been dirt-poor at the time, and had hoped for more children in the future. And though none of his dreams had come true he now had, in a way, a second chance at that. He was wealthy now and had little to spend it on other than grandkids so when Bae asked him for help outfitting the nursery- "Tink's got her hands full trying to finish as much as possible at work before maternity leave and between work and school I just don't have the time"- he'd agreed comically fast. He hadn't considered the dynamics of it at the time, hadn't considered how little he knew about modern childcare products or Bae and Tink's own tastes. When Bae had been born, they had been too poor for anything not donated or second-hand, and had done without much of what he was sure his son and daughter-in-law would consider essential.

"I'm sorry I'm late, but I'm here."

Belle appeared next to him out of thin air, so deep in his own thoughts he'd been. Obligingly he ducked his head a little so she could kiss his cheek, something that had taken some getting used to, and smiled shyly. He was glad the fear of failing his son had pushed him into calling in reinforcements, he was sure that otherwise he wouldn't have dared bother Belle. She, gentle soul that she was, had jumped at the chance to help. At thirty-two she was of an age where friends and acquaintances were starting their own families so she was fairly familiar with what Bae and Tink would need for the twins, and were best to get it. He certainly wouldn't have located the trendy Brooklyn store by himself, with its modern industrial designs very unlike his own preferences. But it was, he acknowledged, very much in keeping with what he had seen in Bae and Tink's flat, modern and sleek.

"So, how does the grandpa-to-be feel? Must be a bit disconcerting, being a grandfather at such an age. I know when Bae joked about his children calling me "Grandma Belle" I almost hit him with a leather-bound edition of Les Mis."

He winced, hoping the glee on his face wasn't stupidly evident.

'She thinks I'm young.'

"Okay, so here we can cover most of the furniture and bedding, but I want to go to other places for the clothing, get more diversity."

It took her one raised hand and a smile to get the attention of an employee, who took one look at Gold's Brioni suit and Belle's patent leather designer shoes and snapped almost comically to action, ready to sell them every single item on the store. Thankfully, however, Belle seemed to have clear ideas about what she wanted and how she wanted it, and though she didn't use intimidation or thinly-veiled threats bur rather charm and gentle coaxing, it reminded him a lot of his own deal-making process.

"Your wife is a very astute shopper, sir."

It took him a moment to realise the shopping assistant was talking to him and a moment longer to realise she was talking to him about Belle. He felt himself grow hot in the face immediately, his mind searching for the words to explain the mistake without dissolving into unintelligible stammering.

"Come, sweetheart, I want you to see this adorable bassinet I just discovered."

As he allowed himself to be lovingly-dragged by Belle he looked around, seeing many sets of eyes on them, many of them male, all of them faintly questioning. And it struck him that what they saw was an old, besotted fool and the pretty young thing he had somehow managed to knock up. They thought they were a couple, shopping and preparing for the arrival of a baby. And, embarrassingly, he found himself loving it. It was easy, especially given Belle's tactile nature, to wrap an arm loosely around her waist and lean close to study the bassinet she was pointing at, easy to keep close to her as they moved on to the mobile section.

"Oh, God, who would buy that awful sheep mobile? It looks like it could be the centre part of a horror movie argument."

It was the shopping experience he'd always wanted for when he'd been waiting for Bae's arrival. A full wallet, a warm and enthusiastic partner and all the time in the world. Belle, with her whimsical yet practical nature, was a perfect complement to his own rather extravagant and over-indulgent tastes. Every purchase meant a lively debate, complete with good-natured bantering and a thrilling dash of flirting. It became a game of sorts between them, a gentle tug-o-war that lead to some interesting purchases.

"Tink's gonna love that giant bunny lamp, just you wait."

"I'm still telling Bae it was solely your idea. I'll tell them I fought valiantly, made him proud."

After the first store came others, and though he had a minor scare when Belle realised people were mistakenly assuming they were expecting parents, she didn't seem to mind, rather the contrary. She played it up, made it a part of her rather formidable shopping strategy. And though he knew it was stupid, and risky and likely to leave him emotionally compromised, he gave himself over to the fantasy completely. It was bittersweet how easy it was, how little effort it required. He was prickly by nature, skittish and touch-shy, but it wasn't so with Belle. Something about her made it dangerously easy to lower his defences, to let her in. By the time the sun began to sink and they exited their last shop, Toys R Us, he knew he was a goner.

"Well, this was fun, being pregnant for a day. Thanks for letting me tag along."

"I couldn't have done this without you. Had no idea babies required so many things, other than the obvious. And I'm glad that people's assumptions didn't make you uncomfortable. I'll admit it was easier to pretend."

Belle bit her lip, which he quickly categorised as the world's most erotic unconscious habit, and tilted her head to the side.

"Maybe people could... mistake us for a couple on their first date? Say... on Sunday? I know a lovely place for brunch, most divine omelettes and a raspberry jam to die for."

It took him a rather long amount of time to process her words, to pair them up with the hopeful, open expression on her face and the rather endearing nervous way in which she tugged a lock of hair behind her ear.

"Y-y-yes, that'd be... yes. Sunday. This Sunday. Around eleven?"

"Eleven would be perfect."

A year later Mr and Mrs Gold were amused at having to pretend to be expecting their second son instead of their first.

"It's the bunny lamp. No shop is going to forget the couple that bought a toddler-sized bunny night lamp."

"Oh, hush and look at this adorable tree bookcase. I swear the moment I saw it I felt Gideon kick. We must have it."

#maddiebonanafana #rumbelle christmas in july #rumbelle fic #rumbelle #tinkerbae

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jaouinedcan · 7 years

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Sunny Daze [NedCan Week: Day 2 - Sun]

Alternate Title: Internal Screaming, The Fic

I’ll be posting another fanfic for the second half of today’s prompt [Moon] in a while, once I go through a final edit.

I really enjoyed writing this; it’s very silly and cute, so I hope everyone has fun reading :) It’s intended to take place in the late 1950s, so the Netherlands is mostly recovered and shaking off the last of the war’s effects.

It was Saturday so he ought to have been able to sleep in without a worry, but while it was nice to have a constant companion, the downside of owning a pet was that you actually had to roll out of bed at a decent hour in order to feed them. Or, in Canada's case, where the pet in question had the strength required to accomplish such a feat, he often ended up getting dragged out of bed via any limb within reach.

"I'm hungry," the polar bear whined, though it was Canada, yanked halfway off the bed by his arm so that his head had knocked against the floor, that ought to be complaining.

"Good morning," he said, instead, pulling himself upright and grimacing a bit as he rubbed the small lump forming on his temple. It should disappear soon enough, but it would continue to smart until then. Trying to put the throb out of his mind, Canada retrieved his eyeglasses from his bedside table and put them on gingerly, successfully avoiding the bump. "What would you like to eat?"

"Salmon," the bear answered immediately, having obviously decided well in advance. At least he wasn't indecisive, because that would be annoying to deal with before his morning coffee.

Fish was fine for a polar bear's breakfast, but Canada's choice for morning protein was bacon and eggs or peanut butter on toast, or... actually, a bacon and egg sandwich sounded amazing right now, and if he was still hungry after that he was pretty sure he still had leftover pancakes in the fridge... unless a certain someone had raided the fridge overnight, anyway...

With that plan solidifying in his head, Canada walked barefoot into his kitchen and started up his coffee machine first before he was encouraged to finish the trip to the icebox by insistent pawing with the hint of claws catching on his flannel pyjamas. Well, if he was that hungry, then he probably hadn't nicked the pancakes after all, so Canada allowed the display of impatience without a word. It wasn't like it was terribly complicated to feed his pet anyway. He kept that icebox at a reasonable temperature to avoid the fish freezing solid, but even if it did, the powerful jaws of a polar bear would still make quick work of a fish popsicle. All he really had to do was unlock the box, remove the packaging, and hand over the fish raw. There wasn't much of a need to even rinse it off, though Canada sometimes did anyway if it looked particularly grisly.

"Thanks," his polar bear said, his manners always better when he got what he wanted. Canada left him to his meal with a quiet reflexive 'you're welcome' as he walked away to wash his hands at the kitchen sink, then got started on fixing his own breakfast while waiting for the coffee pot to fill. Bread went in the toaster, eggs and bacon went in the pan, and within a couple minutes, he was seated at his kitchen table, caffeine beginning to kick in just enough to ground himself in yet another quiet, uneventful mid-autumn Saturday morning, wondering what he ought to do that day in between meals until Hockey Night in Canada began its weekly broadcast.

He was halfway through leisurely eating his sandwich when his polar bear finished licking his paws and the floor clean, then began wandering around the room searching for any elusive crumbs he'd missed, only to stop suddenly by the window and turn his head back toward his owner. "He's been standing out there for half an hour."

Canada was initially flummoxed by the amount of words pouring out of his pet's mouth, used to only a few syllables every now and then until closer to noon, when he got a little more verbal. Then the meaning of the words sunk in and he nearly choked on a mouthful of coffee but at least he avoided spraying it everywhere. He quickly rose to his feet, unfortunately hit his knee on the table, grimaced, then demanded to know, "Why didn't you tell me someone was at the door?!" in a voice more like a pained hiss than an actual shout.

"I was hungry."

Canada was so mortified he was certain that his soul was ready to leave his body and vanish into the vast wilderness of the Rockies or the boreal forest never to be found again, but somehow he managed to limp his way over to the door, hastily putting together an apology for not hearing his unusually patient visitor's knocking. Or had his polar bear answered the door and just left them there with a forgotten promise to fetch him?! Oh, Goddddd...

Meanwhile, the Netherlands, who definitely hadn't gotten around to knocking yet, was silently lamenting his inability to hold his Holland Lop while he smoked, but he wasn't about to put her health at risk, and simply watched her contentedly hop around Canada's front yard instead. Some of the neighbours glanced toward him with concern as they went about their daily lives, but they quickly looked away from the force of his stare. The glare was borne more out of irritation toward himself than anyone else, but nobody needed to know that.

It was a simple enough plan. He just had to knock on the door and hand over the box. He'd done this sort of thing before, with other recipients. Hell, he'd accompanied much larger gifts to Canada than this one small box before. Every year since 1945 had brought him to Canada's shores on a ship full of tulip bulbs, and he'd enjoyed the overwhelmed gratitude every time as he paid back whatever slight fraction of the depth of his debt he could afford, bit by bit, even as he wondered if it was even fair to think that he'd ever break out black ink in his books again now that he had the gall to gain any sort of satisfaction from Canada's happiness. Was it so dramatic of him to not consider ever ceasing sending him thousands of tulips every May? ...Certainly not now that the Canadian government had decided to match the delivery with an annual tulip festival, purchasing even more to spread among both the public and private sectors. It was already a tradition he didn't intend to break.

Yet, he'd been bothered to note that, while Canada had happily shared the tulips with all the people who called his land home, it seemed that he'd yet to keep any for himself, and the Netherlands would wonder why that was, if it weren't already so obvious. It had started with Princess Juliana's initiative, not his, so Canada must have assumed that they were for his people to enjoy and to take even one for his own garden would be a disservice to them. After all, it was his soldiers that had risked their lives in the war. Canada himself would have survived under America's protective umbrella indefinitely even if Europe had fallen completely to the Axis Powers.

So. Here he was, on Canada's doorstep with a box of tulip bulbs specifically for him and him alone to take and plant in his own garden and enjoy for himself because he couldn't stand it any longer--he couldn't deal with Canada never realizing just how important he was to him.

Now if only he could settle his nerves long enough to actually knock on the door.

...Shit, he'd already burned through his whole supply of tobacco. Now he would have to go buy more, but maybe walking to the closest store and back would help him to calm down?

That was, of course, the moment Canada threw open the door, saying, "I'm so sorry! I must have missed hearing you knock..." only to trail off and continue on in surprise, "Mr. Netherlands?!"

Canada hadn't expected to see him, and the Netherlands certainly wasn't expecting to be greeted by a frantic male with an impressive case of bed head still in his pyjamas. As a fierce blush rose up Canada's face, the Netherlands' pipe fell from his open jaw and clattered noisily on the porch, spooking his bunny into returning to his side. They were caught in an otherwise silent staredown until Canada's polar bear peered around his owner, munching on some sort of sandwich. "There's food inside if you're hungry," he said, which turned out to not be entirely accurate as his owner would be forced to endure his embarrassment regarding his state of undress in the Netherlands' presence while reheating pancakes and awkwardly making small talk that his guest was far too distracted to respond to properly, but at least it got them moving.

Just as soon as the younger nation placed a small stack of pancakes in front of him alongside a glass of orange juice, a stick of butter, and a jar of maple syrup, he hastily excused himself upstairs to get dressed. As he left, the Netherlands thought he heard a low keening whine drawn out under his breath, but certainly couldn't blame him for being embarrassed. He was struggling to recover, himself, and he'd started out already fully dressed.

He turned his head to the side after putting down the box of tulips beside the plate, and found Canada's polar bear upright and staring at him. "Are you gonna eat that?" he asked, after a long moment, and the Netherlands tucked his bunny under his opposite arm just in case as he used his free hand to spread butter and pour syrup to his taste. The fluttery feeling in his stomach wasn't hunger but maybe a full belly would help him avoid making a fool out of himself and Belgium had already given him an addiction to sweet breakfasts so if he started feeling queasy then it wouldn't be the sugar to blame.

He let the polar bear lick the plate clean after he was done, hoping that would be enough to avoid any more subtle implications regarding his bunny's snack potential.

After Canada finished his delayed morning routine and got dressed in casual-but-not-too-casual clothes, he had to give himself a pep talk before he was finally able to leave his room again.

"All right, Canada," he said to his reflection in the small mirror hanging by his closet, which he often used to psyche himself up before important meetings and events where he was required to make a speech, "you can do this. You can walk out there and have a nice and pleasant chat with Mr. Netherlands. It's not your fault that he decided to visit without calling ahead and caught you straight out of bed, and he wouldn't judge you for your appearance on a Saturday morning. This should be a day off for him, too, after all, and for whatever reason he decided to share a bit of his time with you even though he probably has a lot more important things to do and oh-maple-I-left-him-alone-in-the-kitchen-with-whatshisface!" The thought of his polar bear bothering him somehow was enough to get Canada racing out of his bedroom again. Thankfully, his house was a modest size so he didn't even have a chance to run out of breath, but he did slide a bit on the kitchen tile in his sockfeet, only saved from a disastrous fall by quickly grabbing the door jamb on his way past.

Thankfully, his guest was distracted by a polar bear messing his face with syrup and failed to notice his clumsiness. That one piece of luck didn't slow down his racing heart, though, and he ended up stuttering a bit through his nerves as he wet a towel to start cleaning off his pet's sticky maw. "S-s-so what brings you here today, Mr. Netherlands?" It was a lot easier to talk to him while busying himself with a task that made it easy to avoid looking him in the eye.

However, the Netherlands must have been waiting for his full attention, choosing to take the time to stand and walk over to him, extending a small package into his field of vision before finally responding. "I came to deliver this," he said in an enviously even tone.

Canada looked up from his crouch next to the struggling bear, who managed to escape the horrors of being cleaned and hurried off elsewhere, and that was a mistake because beyond the lid of the box he could see the Netherlands standing there with his usual impassive expression, and even if he didn't already know that it was a carefully constructed mask designed to keep others at arms length and he was the only one who actually knew that for sure thanks to being the one sent to help him through what was probably the worst disaster in his nation's history, he thinks he would have gotten a hint of something below the surface thanks to the way he carefully cradled his bunny in the crook of his elbow and continuously brought him gifts without even a word about expecting anything in return. He was pretty sure that the Netherlands wanted to get closer to him because he was feeling grateful for the help, and normally Canada would have had no problem making a new friend, but... but...

The Netherlands cuddling his bunny like that was just way too cute and Canada was seriously starting to doubt that he'd be able to limit his feelings to friendship at this rate!

With those thoughts alongside his still rapidly beating heart, Canada was definitely struggling to keep calm as he forced his body to move, reaching out with one hand to accept the gift as he rose up to his full height again, setting the soiled towel next to the sink, intending to throw it in the wash later. "O-oh," he said, mentally kicking himself for his lack of composure. "Thank you, Mr. Netherlands... Should I open it now?" He felt silly for asking, but Dominion Day had come and gone and he wasn't entirely sure if the Netherlands was aware of that, and if not, certainly didn't want him to feel guilty about missing it.

"Yes," the Netherlands said, simply, nodding toward the box and shifting the bunny in his arms now that he had both hands free, going so far as to start gently stroking the fur at the base of its ears and Canada had to avert his eyes or die where he stood. Good thing he had a present to focus on, and he took the opportunity to do so, carefully undoing the twine tying it together, then setting the box on the kitchen table in order to remove the top, revealing a dozen or so tulip bulbs packed in cotton. The sight of them was so familiar that it immediately helped put Canada at ease. He really should have known, to be honest.

He turned back to face the Netherlands with an easy smile. "The tulips you send me always bloom so beautifully; thank you again, Mr. Netherlands. My parks and civic buildings just wouldn't be the same without them anymore." He paused, though, confused about one particular thing. "But... you've never shipped them this early before... I'll have to give my warehouses a heads up..."

"No," the Netherlands replied, having turned his gaze toward the window. Something must have caught his attention outside but Canada couldn't see anything special from where he stood. "These are for you; for your yard."

"Ah--oh... um..." Canada started, caught by surprise and a significant bout of awkwardness as the smile fell from his face. "Well, I mean, thank you very much, but I... I have some... bad news...?"

The Netherlands quickly looked back toward him, likely just as surprised as him.

"I... I don't... actually have a flower garden...?"

The Netherlands was thrown so off balance that he ended up turning around and walking out through Canada's back door without an invitation, finding it to be just as he'd said. It had been impossible to not notice that no flowers grew in his front yard apart from a wayward dandelion here and there, but his backyard was encircled by a fence designed to keep out wildlife, only, instead of flowers like his own yard boasted, all it protected was a large maple tree and a vegetable garden.

Well, the mystery of why Canada never took any of the tulip bulbs for himself was now solved, but the Netherlands found the answer entirely unsatisfying and he looked over the yard, overcome with woe. Was Canada just... not as interested in the tulips as he'd assumed...?

"I'm sorry," Canada said, having followed him out the door to stand beside him. "I really do like the tulips you send... It's just that the growing season here is so much shorter than places further south that I put all my attention into farming crops instead of flowers. Agriculture techniques, technology, and science have improved to the point that harvesting enough food for everyone is no longer a problem, but... I just never got into the habit of keeping flowers... much less learn how to care for them..."

He didn't think he was imagining the disappointment in Canada's voice, and when he glanced over at him, he appeared crestfallen. An idea formed in his head and he followed it silently to a workable conclusion. He'd been planning on spending the day in Canada regardless, so spending the day with Canada wasn't out of the question as long as Canada was fine with it. Trying not to sound too eager, he asked, "Would you like to?"

Canada's breath hitched in his throat, surprised in the middle of an inhale, but he quickly turned his head with another dazzling smile that melted his insides like the butter on his pancakes. "Yes!"

The Netherlands was able to endure it a little while longer this time before looking away, this time at the bunny in his arms. Surely it wouldn't be a problem to carry her around a bit longer? Hopefully it wouldn't bother any of the shopkeepers. "You'll be needing some supplies," he explained, though he likely had most of what he needed already to care for his vegetables.

"I have a small truck," Canada offered. "We can go now." And that was that.

It was a good thing Canada could drive because the Netherlands preferred bicycles. He had been escorted by a driver from his embassy when he'd landed at the airport earlier that day but he wouldn't dare dirty one of their vehicles and carrying around a couple bags of soil would have been as unwieldy as it was messy to the point that the Netherlands would have actually preferred to pay for delivery rather than ruining his clothes. As luck would have it, the local Canadian Tire was only a few kilometres away, and they stocked everything on the list, though Canada tossed a few extra things in the cart he must have needed for other projects along with a wide-brimmed straw hat. They stopped by a grocery store, too, as Canada mentioned wanting to prepare a fresher lunch rather than more reheated pancakes, and the Netherlands tagged along to offer suggestions, going so far as to mention that the work might occupy them well into the late afternoon so they might need to plan supper in advance as well. In the end, they were lucky that Canada's polar bear had refused to come out of hiding before they left the house because there was no room left in the cab. As for his bunny, nobody had asked him to leave either store, but he did end up getting a lot of attention from women and children. He'd gotten bored with it after a while and started glaring at people to keep them away, while Canada laughed a little, completely unconcerned.

Canada behind the wheel was a far more notable occurrence. The last time he'd been driven around by the younger nation was just after the war when they'd joined the ranks of soldiers delivering food and supplies to the most remote regions of the Netherlands, and his driving was just as calm, focused, and precise as it had been back then, even as he made small talk. The Netherlands' own driving skill was not nearly as good, having so little practice. After all, why pay for gas when cycling was free? He did enjoy watching Canada drive, however, so he ended up continuing on letting him drive instead of adding to his own experience.

It was close to noon when they returned to the house and unloaded most of Canada's purchases minus the bags of soil, so they went ahead with lunch before getting to work. Canada pulled a fish out of a large icebox for his polar bear who appeared out of nowhere once food was mentioned, and then went out into his garden to pull up a fresh carrot for the Netherlands' bunny. As she happily munched it on top of the kitchen table (he refused to release her on the floor since he was still concerned about the bear's likelihood of mistaking her for food), they prepared their lunch together, the Netherlands following Canada's lead since he very rarely ever cooked for himself. He hated making a mess of his immaculate kitchen.

While they ate, the Netherlands gave him a crash course in caring for tulips along with a general explanation for several other varieties of flowers if he chose to expand his collection at a later time, offering to assist with more specialized advice later on over the phone if he wasn't available in person. Canada already knew how to contact him and had on several occasions already, always careful to match up their differing time zones to reasonable hours, but the topics thus far had been mostly limited to serious topics such as how reconstruction was going after the war, aside from the yearly discussion about the tulip delivery, so he was looking forward to discussing one of his favourite hobbies in more detail instead.

"Front yard or back?" he asked Canada as they rounded up the dishes from lunch and breakfast, intending to take care of them all at once following supper, wanting to get started on the flower garden while the weather was good.

"Back," Canada replied, easily, smiling to himself as he scraped off a few lingering bits of food from a plate into his garbage can. "They're for me, after all, and I spend more time in my backyard than out front. It'll be safer for your bunny, too, away from the street and the fence keeping out the predators that sometimes wander into town." He didn't mention the predator living in the house itself, but the little polar bear had already wandered off to enjoy an afternoon nap.

Before they got started , Canada fetched some old clothes from his room for them to change into, since the Netherlands hadn't brought any clothes he was willing to get dirty. The fit was... not perfect, but workable, the denim riding low on his hips thanks to his slimmer frame, and the shirt not long enough to completely cover his torso when he lifted his arms thanks to his height. The Netherlands had changed in the restroom, and when he stepped out, he found Canada in a similar outfit topped off with a straw hat that wasn't the one he'd bought earlier, because that one was offered to the Netherlands.

"I know I have a reputation as a frozen wasteland but I still get a lot of sun in autumn; you definitely need to cover your head when you work outside, here." He smiled in satisfaction when the Netherlands tried it on and found it fit nicely after sweeping his hair back with one hand. "There, your face should be safe from sunburn now." It wasn't the first time he'd worn a sunhat to block the sun while planting tulips, but it was the first time he felt blessed for doing so, enjoying the happy expression on Canada's face.

They didn't waste any more time before heading outside, Canada hurrying to his shed to pull out a wheelbarrow to transport the soil from his truck bed, and the Netherlands following him after releasing his bunny to collect a few shovels, trowels, and other tools and supplies. Canada only had one pair of gardening gloves, but he let the Netherlands borrow them, not minding getting his own hands dirty. Canada reappeared shortly with the wheelbarrow and they briefly discussed the best place for the garden as they left the bags of soil on the grass, eventually settling upon a stretch of lawn along the back wall of the house, and they got started digging up the grassy earth, filling up the wheelbarrow again. It seemed as though the earlier warning about the sun was accurate, judging by the spreading flush on Canada's face, though it seemed to be caused by the increasing temperature rather than an actual burn, so he didn't mention it as they moved on to lining the flower garden with a long strip of aluminum to prevent the grass from growing past to take over the fertile new soil that they worked together to empty into the hole directly from the bags. From there it was simple enough to retrieve the box of tulip bulbs from inside and plant them, carefully leaving the dirt loose beneath them to avoid letting future rainfall drown them. When that was done, Canada rolled back on his knees to rest on his ankles beside the Netherlands with a content sigh, seeing a job well done, and used his arm to wipe the sweat off his face, unknowingly leaving a streak of dirt along his jawline.

"Canada," he said to get his attention as he pulled off one of the gardening gloves, leaning over and reaching out to brush the grime off with his thumb. Getting dirty in the process was annoying, but it wasn't like he wasn't planning on washing his hands after going back inside anyway.

Well, that was the plan, but then their eyes met and the Netherlands was frozen between thinking 'oh' and 'oh no'.

When they started the project Canada had no idea just how hard it would be to focus on the job, but then the Netherlands began to shovel dirt into the wheelbarrow and his shirt rode up every time he lifted his arms and suddenly it was a struggle to pry his eyes away and continue working. He was lucky that the Netherlands was completely absorbed in the task, but if he was caught staring then he was prepared to mumble some half truth about how relieved he was that the Netherlands had healed up nicely from his war wounds and the lingering muscular atrophy had reversed, though he could still use a little more meat on his bones to ensure perfect health, and, oh, that was starting to sound creepy even in his own head so he was glad that the Netherlands didn't seem to notice his wandering eyes in the least.

With sheer force of will, he managed to make it through the afternoon without embarrassing himself, but maybe he let his guard down too soon because when the Netherlands said his name and touched his face and leaned in close and locked their eyes, Canada's heartbeat rushed in his ears and the next thing he knew, his hat had tumbled off, his hands were cradling the Netherlands' face, and their lips were pressed together. His eyes had shut tight at some point, and after a moment of stillness, the Netherlands' hand drifted down from his cheek to the back of his neck, holding them together more steadily as he began to lean into the contact. Emboldened, Canada started to move his lips in delicate motions, drawing one kiss into half a dozen quiet smicks and smacks until he felt the Netherlands' hand start to shake, and, worried that had been too much, leaned back to check, allowing them both to take a breath in the process. The Netherlands leaned forward with him, chasing just one more kiss, but unwisely opened his eyes, probably intending to ensure his aim, ending up freezing upon meeting Canada's gaze, a flush rising all the way from his neck to his forehead. Canada tried to stop himself, he really did, but between that and the dark smudges of soil transferred from his fingers, the Netherlands looked so silly and endearing that he couldn't help the laughter bubbling out past his lips, and that spooked the Netherlands into backing off, slipping out of Canada's grip as he took his hand back and covered the lower half of his face. Unable to stop but unwilling to let the Netherlands think he'd done something wrong, Canada leaned forward again, this time to encircle his torso in his arms as he rode out the remainder of the laughing fit on the Netherlands' shoulder, attempting to explain himself several times only to wind himself up again, relieved when the Netherlands began to relax again.

The Netherlands had endured countless social kisses over the course of his existence, sometimes from the overenthusiastic, but mostly wherever and whenever it was considered customary. This was, however, the first time he found himself enjoying it and craving more, even as he began to start feeling overwhelmed, his thoughts swirling in panicked little circles of 'what now' and 'what next', only to be overcome by a massive flood of 'what if' following Canada's unexpected laughter, before easing down into quiet relief after a short time in Canada's embrace, finally lowering his hand from his face to rest upon Canada's hip, though the other still desperately clenched the removed gardening glove in its grip while all ten toes slowly uncurled in his shoes.

He waited until Canada regained enough control of himself to explain, "I'm sorry, Netherlands, I just--I'm just so happy and relieved and glad and--I swear I didn't mean to make such a mess of you!"

He'd felt like such a figurative mess that he didn't understand that he'd meant it literally until Canada pulled back and tried to use the relatively clean patches of skin on his forearms to brush the dirt off the Netherlands' face, presumably with only moderate success judging by the way his lips twitched in barely contained mirth. He didn't even know that he'd dirtied his own face first and that the Netherlands only wiped the barest bit off before they'd been caught in the moment, but the Netherlands didn't mention it as he silently accepted Canada's attention until he finally gave up and stood, holding out a hand to help him up. It was still as dirty as ever, but, again, the Netherlands was planning on washing his hands soon anyway.

"Let's go in and wash up," Canada suggested, stooping down to grab his fallen sunhat. "I can empty out the wheelbarrow some other time." Presumably, some other time when the Netherlands was not there to distract him from the chore in favour of better ways to spend time together.

He nodded and followed Canada inside after collecting his bunny. She had been bold enough to dig up another carrot but he doubted that would be a problem. He ended up staring at his face in horror in the restroom for a while, then scrubbed himself clean, changed back into his much cleaner clothes, and fixed his hair before returning to socialise some more, finding Canada hanging up both hats by the back door, already seeming to expect more time working in the garden with company.

The Netherlands ended up staying well into the evening until Canada drove him back to his embassy, but before then, they enjoyed more conversation, another meal, and a broadcast of Hockey Night in Canada, wherein the Netherlands finally understood why a shellshocked Denmark had warned him back in 1949 to never ever ever play a game against Canada.

"What colour are they?" Canada asked as he slowed to a stop in front of the building, finally succumbing to curiosity.

He played with the idea of telling him to wait until spring to find out, but it seemed cruel now that his intent had been all but stated outright. Originally, he was supposed to have at least six months to decide whether to let the flowers speak for themselves or to play it off as simply knowing Canada's favourite colour. "Red," he said, instead, and Canada, more knowledgeable about flower meanings than most thanks to his earlier lectures, smiled like the sun and kissed him again.

(Notes: Denmark faced Canada’s national men’s hockey team in 1949 where they endured their worst defeat in history with an end score of 0-47, and has never won a game against them to this day. Damn Canada, cold! Denmark does win most of his games verses the Netherlands, though, so at least he can count on his buddy for a more even match :) I only found one game where the Netherlands faced Canada in the 1980 Olympics, and they lost 10-1; so they got wrecked pretty bad but at least they weren’t utterly destroyed and managed to score a goal.)

#nedcanweek2017 #nedcan #aph canada #aph netherlands

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haodycowboy · 7 years

Text

the comfort of custody over a tshirt \\ fluff

word count: 2.2k

genre: fluff/semi smut (its just some deep kisses and touches nothin’ serious)

pairing: hoseok + y/n

summary: two oblivious idiots, dance lessons, rick and morty and sealin’ deals.

a/n: i huge freakin thank you to @jonghyoongi and @maxinederps for pushing me to post this. its my first fic im posting on here so yeah. please love hobi as much as i do and enjoy this rollercoaster of a fic.

“So why aren’t you guys dating yet?” Yoongi’s voice pulls you from your phone, where you had previously been flirting through text with the man in question, Hoseok.

“Um, were both shy idiots that don’t know how to express our feelings?” Yoongi rolls his eyes from the other side of the couch in his apartment.

“Seriously y/n, if you don’t step up to the plate I’m gonna ask him out for you.” His threat seemed empty, but not until he added, “Or I’ll tell him about the time I caught you calling his name when you were flickin’ the bea-”

“Okay okay! God I’ll ask him out right now, just please don’t tell him about that.” Yoongi secretly smirked at his own phone as you type out a quick. “Hey do you wanna go on a date?”

“Cool, I’m gonna grab my charger real quick, be right back.” He gets up from the couch and leaves to his room.

You’re staring at your phone when you realize under your text it says Read 2:24 PM and a loud shriek comes from what seems like just down the hall of Yoongi’s apartment complex. The incoherent babble continues as you hear the lock of the front door being fiddled with and Jung Hoseok himself comes through the threshold yelling, “Dude holy fucking shit y/n just asked me out on a date, what do I say? What do I wear? Oh my god what if she’s pranking m-.”

Suddenly Yoongi’s spacious apartment seems a lot smaller when Hoseok drops his gym bag and his eyes lock onto yours from the corner of the couch. Yoongi emerges from his bedroom nonchalant as ever.

“Say yes, whatever you want; she’ll think you’re cute regardless, and no she’s not pranking you.” He goes right back to his spot on the other end of the couch and starts searching through Netflix while adding “Oh and she’s here by the way.” Fucker.

“Heyyyyy” is all you can manage as he places his shoes on the rack next to the door and replies with a small ‘Hiiiii there’ as he makes his way to the love seat next to the couch.

“So yeah… What do you want to do?”

And now, here you are, Hoseok feeling you up in the elevator on the way to his apartment after the Tango lessons he offered to take you to. How you got into this situation? Not really a mystery. For starters, the dress Yoongi helped pick out was revealing as hell, to which Hoseok couldn’t help but literally drool when he picked you up (it was quite cute, though Hoseok thinks otherwise). Furthermore, the final pose called for the man to dip the woman while simultaneously holding her up with his leg between her own, and you can make out why that had gotten him so riled up.

“I can’t believe I audibly whimpered when you dipped me. I felt like dying back there.” You allowed his hands to explore the sides of your body for just a couple seconds more when the elevator doors slid open, dragging Hoseok behind you towards his apartment.

“Really y/n, if anything, I would’ve been worried if you hadn’t made any time of noise while dancing. I mean, it’s hard not to.” His hips still seem to be swaying on your way to the door, even as he unlocks the door and plops down both yours and his bags. But just as he turns around to look at you, you’re pulling him towards you, the look of desperation to kiss him very apparent on your face.

“I’m so sorry y/n I just don’t really feel up for it tonight.” He stops the descent onto your lips with eyes shut, a look of guilt written on his face. He looks really broken up about it, but it’s not like you were entitled to get some tonight so you hold his face in your hands, trying to relax him a bit.

“Hoseok, I totally understand. It’s just,” you fiddle with your hair and allow a small sigh to leave your lips, “Changkyun and I sort of planned a ‘mutual hookup night’ if you will, and we played rock paper scissors for who gets the apartment for the night and he won. So, is it okay if I stay the night?”

“Of course, we can still watch a movie or just talk until we fall asleep if you’re okay with that.” You nod in agreement and migrate to the couch as he follows right behind you.

“Do you have pajamas I can borrow? To be quite honest I’ve been dying to get out of this dress halfway through the lesson.” A shy smile adorns your lips and unbeknownst to you, he chuckles at your honesty. He pushes off of the couch and goes to find clothes for you. “Any requests? Boxers, basketball shorts, or just one big shirt?” His voice travels from down the hall, the sound of him rifling through his closest even more faint.

You get up from your spot on the couch and find him laying out a bunch different clothes for you. It’s silly, really, but cute nonetheless. “Hmm, how about basketball shorts and a bIG SHIRT!” You discover a Rick and Morty shirt amongst his choices for you.

You immediately grab it from the little plethora of clothes and run to the bathroom next to his closet rushing to jump out of your outfit of the night.

From the other side of the door, you can hear him giggle, “I’m assuming you watch Rick and Morty?” Just as he finishes putting away the clothes that didn’t make the cut, you burst out of the bathroom.

“Get schwiftyyyyy!” Hoseok starts clapping and joins you in your little jig before you realize the basketball shorts may be just a bit too big.

“Looks like they might be a little bit too loose, you sure you don’t want boxers?” Speaking too soon, Hoseok watches as you pull and knot the drawstring on the inside. “Nope! It’s all good.”

You offer him a small thanks and bound back out to the living room. He finds you already starting to get situated under the throw blanket that was previously draped over the armrest.

He takes the blanket placed on the other armrest but before he could get comfortable, you pipe up, “Hobi, do you have another blanket? This one’s a bit too small.” Your toes can be seen from the bottom of the blanket, a sight that makes Hoseok shake his head as he gets back up once more and disappears down the hallway again.

He seems to be gone for a bit longer than the assumed time grabbing a blanket allows, but all your questions are answered when he comes back in pajamas of his own.

“By the way, you can have that shirt if you want.” Hoseok observes your baffled face and adds before you can say anything, “It was Jimin’s gift to me during last year’s White Elephant. Obviously, he meant to give it to Namjoon, but Jimin and Jungkook’s recipients got switched. Asshole took what would’ve been my Hufflepuff sweater when he’s CLEARLY a Gryf-” “findor! I always thought he was a Gryffindor too!” After quickly sorting each of the other boys into their respective Hogwarts houses (and eerily agreeing on all of them), you ask him a series of questions.

“Okay one, how have you not gotten into Rick and Morty with 'Joons incessant pestering he’d done a few months back? And two, why didn’t you guys just switch gifts that night?” By now, the option of watching a movie is long gone.

“Well one, I wanted to finish catching up on Brooklyn 99 before the new season had started, so it sort of slipped my mind. And two, I was going to ask him to switch, but sub point A, switching gifts after the game is over isn’t really lawful per se, and sub point B, once he discovered yellow looked good on him, I didn’t have the heart to go through with the trade.” Note to self: get Hobi a Hufflepuff sweater. After a few minutes you convince Hoseok to watch the first season of Rick and Morty. A whopping four hours of cringe, stomach pained laughter, and happy tears is what lead you to the the current predicament between the two of you. It was well into the morning, a quarter to 4 when you finally finish binge watching the entire first season. “So Y/N, about the whole, 'giving you the shirt’ thing…” Hoseok’s attention is now on you, his pleading puppy eyes fixed on you with determination. “Hobi, we shook on it! If it weren’t for me you would’ve never gotten into the damn show!” You steal what’s left of the shared blanket between you, attempting to put some sort of barrier between your new shirt and Hoseok’s grabby hands. Unfortunately, you didn’t notice that his feet were still under the blanket, allowing him to rip it off of you before you could react. “What are you gonna do, rip it off me?!” Trying your hardest to conceal yourself from him, but he manages to yank the entire blanket out from over you, leaving you exposed. The squeal that comes out of your mouth has him giggling in your wake as you make a run for his room. “Ha! I took the blanket from my bed, you have nothing to hide under!!” Your mistake leaves you exposed on his bed, crawling backwards to the headboard. A dead end. “Seriously Hoseok, what do you actually plan on doing right now?” He’s past the foot of the bed and crawling on top of you. You can’t lie, the faux look of hunger on his face turns you on a bit, but he said he wasn’t in the mood, so maybe just keep this one to yourself. “Joint custody.” He’s now completely towering over you, but his vague statement makes you forget about his dominant demeanor. “Of what, the shirt?” All playfulness aside, you’re now intrigued by his offer. “Yeah, you have it one week, and I the next, with emergency switches thrown in here and there, and repeat.” Sitting criss cross in front of you, in what seems to be full business mode. “Mmm, Mr. Jung, you’ve got yourself a deal.” A joking puff of your chest and you stick out your hand for him to shake, which you see him go for, but he opens your fingers and intertwines them with his. He pulls you in while his left hand on your hip keeps you steady as you’re now on top of his lap. An almost inaudible gasp leaves your lips as he brings you in for a strong kiss, a hand coming up to your neck and the other further wraps around your waist. You almost don’t notice the chuckle that comes from his chest when you pull him in just a bit more. He pulls away from the kiss, his hold still locking you into his frame, if not more so than before. He keeps his forehead on yours, the sight of him looking at you cross eyed etched into your mind. “Thought a kiss would be more legally binding.” You watch as Hoseok’s eyes close once more as he nudges toward your temple and kisses your cheeks a couple times before coming back to your lips just once more. “Mm. Definitely more legally binding than a handshake.” You’ve been fiddling with his hair and he very, very noticeably shivers at the spine tingling contact. He lets out a small groan as his head is now planted on your shoulder, the sound of his breath starting to even out. “Come here.” You pull Hoseok with you to lay down and slither out from under him half way when he realizes it feels like you’re leaving him. “I’m just getting the blanket, I’ll be back in two seconds.” You run your fingers through his hair one more time to reassure him. Which works, of course. You’re in the middle of the hall when you hear “One, two!” from his room. A shake of your head and you grab the blanket, along with his and your phone. You come back to him unmoved from how you’d left him. Placing the phones down on his nightstand, you shake the blanket a couple times before laying back on the bed. Hoseok’s arm whips up the blanket for you to slip back in with him. “You impatient, little baby. You’re lucky I think you’re cute.” He snuggles back into you, the most content sounding sigh from his lips has you trying to keep in the loudest squeal you could possibly emit. “Y/N, can you keep playing with my hair? It helps me fall asleep.” Hoseok looks up from the crook of your neck where his face had previously been. “Holy shit Hoseok, how do I say no to your face.” You realize how whipped you are for him, only after one date (and a bunch of flirting), he’s managed to make you melt into puddle so many times in one night.

thank u so much for reading!

#hoseok #hobi #jhope #hoseok fluff #bts fluff #im not gonna put any other members in the tags #if it gets recognition so be it #thanks for reading this far if you have!#tbh i hate endings i dont know how to do em #bts #leanne be yellin’

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bigbenalpha · 5 years

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The Haunting of Hilltop House*

This is a looooong post but totally worth your valuable time. So I got one of my besties a haunted doll for Xmas. I got the idea from the Bizarre States podcast where one of the hosts gave a haunted doll to the other just as a random gift. If you like paranormal stuff, true crime, cats, poop, strange history, sex, and general hilarity you should give them a listen. The doll was purchased on eBay so yeah, who knows if theirs was really haunted. Ebay makes the sellers of such items put up disclaimers about haunted items since that isn’t exactly a tangible property that can be legally sold. I thought about just giving my friend a doll without any warning but then decided against that. It seemed a bit shitty to go “Here, it’s a cursed object! Merry Xmas, Kbye. Love you” so I opted to ask her if she’d actually want such a thing. She was into it so I spent a couple days going over the available dolls and picked out one that seemed active but not malicious, and wasn’t too pricey. Most of the dolls in my price range were fairly normal looking. The creepy ones were either out of my price range or described as evil. I settled on Owena. Here’s the description provided by the seller, first the headline then the body:

"haunted doll "Owena" Alarming Porcelain Doll"

"I believe this is the spirit of Owena. She is a girl from an Island somewhere by Wales. She talks in a language that I don't understand. The story I that has been told to me is she drowned in the sea by her house. She will forever be looking for her family. The doll was brought to the States by a person that was vacationing in Wales and found this doll in a store. He felt so moved when he picked up the doll that he purchase it. He says it was the worst decision he has ever made. He was forever being woke up in the middle of the night by a horrifying noise that sounded almost animalistic. When he was home working there was always a tapping noise on the outside door, every time he got up to check on it, nothing was there. The last time this happened, his porch was covered in water. He immediately put the doll in a box and took it our mutual friend. She has asked me to sell it and be rid of it.

The doll itself is 15" tall, wearing a beautiful plaid, what and lace dress, with matching hat, white bloomers, white socks and shoes. Brown-reddish hair with brown eyes. The doll it a part of the Danea Collection Porcelain."

There were pictures as well but I took some of my own that’ll post a little ways down. I placed the order and waited impatiently. The doll arrived a bit sooner than the initial order tracking said it would. Maybe that was good sign it was really haunted and they popped for express shipping to get rid of it faster. It showed up on Nov. 29th as I was headed out the door to work so I was gonna have to wait until later to open the box. I sent my friend a pic of the box and her excitement was high, too.

As the evening went on at work I got a little apprehensive about opening the box. Not so much because I was afraid of a ghost but, if it was actually haunted I was worried that it might imprint on me like a baby raptor and then when i handed the doll over it wouldn’t do anything spooky for my friend. When I got home I decided to open the box if only to make sure the doll wasn’t broken and was actually the one I ordered. I carefully sliced the tape and saw that the doll was wrapped in plain brown paper like an unnatural burrito Julie Andrews might sing about if she worshiped the devil. I gently slid the doll out onto my arm like how you cradle a puppy and took off the paper. She’s a very pretty doll. As I handled her I never felt any weird energy from her like that guy did who originally bought her.

I made some small talk, asked how her trip was, that sort of thing. I told her that I was planning to give her to my friend as a gift for Xmas so she wouldn’t be staying with me for very long. I promised her that I wouldn’t put her back in the box. I laid her on my bed and went about my usual routine of watching a few shows, net surfing and playing games until it was time for bed. Then things got interesting.

I sat her on my desk chair and got in bed. I ended up having a bit of insomnia, partly because I was on high alert for any spooky happenings but also just because it was one of those nights. Every once in a while there would be a sound I didn’t recognize as one of the usual night noises in my house. I couldn’t pinpoint what exactly they sounded like or where they were coming from but I didn’t get any chills or spooOOooky feeling from them. I eventually drifted of into a twilight sorta dozing. I was starting to dream but still aware of how i was laying, the temperature of the room and that my leg needed to stretch. So I stretched and gave my leg a shake for good measure. And kept shaking. And kept shaking. And wait that’s not me! I was laying diagonally in the bed and the corner of the mattress where my feet were was shaking violently. It was also the corner of the bed closest to Owena. I sat up and it stopped. It wasn’t like how you jolt yourself awake as you doze off. It was a definite physical feeling of the mattress being moved under me. I stayed awake for a little while longer until I finally fell all the way asleep. When I woke up Owena was in the same spot where I left her. I said good morning (afternoon), made some more small talk and left for work.

That night at bedtime I politely asked her not to do anything spooOOooky since I had a doc appointment early the next morning. She complied and I managed to get a good night’s rest. When I got home from the doc I was walking through the living room and I heard a weird little girl’s voice say “hello!” I was like FUCK! SHIT! She’s coming for me!!! Then she asked if I could say red and started singing the ABCs. It was a motion activated toy in my baby great-niece’s playpen. Once my sphincter unclenched I had a pretty good laugh. I told Owena what happened but I’m thinking she already knew. I had a little nap before work but nothing odd happened. But every night after that for the next week was exactly like the first night- one or two odd noises then getting shaken as soon as I dozed off. Most of them were definitely Dream Ben getting shaken but once it was definitely my pillow being shaken for real. After the first week the shakings stopped but the noises shifted into recognizable sounds, specifically rustling fabric and sighs. And they happened while I was wide awake at my desk with the lights on. The final time the noises happened was fairly intense. My seven year old great-nephew likes to play sneaky ninja sometimes and crawl into my room while I’m at my desk. He’ll get behind my bed then get under the covers and try to get all the way behind me without me seeing him. He’s actually been getting better at it but still never manages to get the drop on me. That night it seemed like he succeeded. I heard all the usual noises he makes- his attempts to hold his breath, the sound of his knees on the carpet, the covers moving around as he tries to hide under them. I was like, damn, he’s getting pretty good. I turned around and the only thing on the bed was Owena. Right were I left her, fortunately. After that she got kind of dormant (not really, she was going in hard on my sister but more on that in a bit.). I thought maybe she was enjoying my company and the shows I was watching so she didn’t feel like getting up to spooOOooky shit. I was treating her to Critical Role, AcqInc C Team, Star Trek Discovery and hard-core binging Bizarre States to get caught up so that all seemed reasonable. I quit making small talk to see if that would get her going but still nothing. Finally it was getting close to the day for the gift exchange and I said to her “you need to be doing something to prove I didn’t wast my money on you. I love my friend and she’s very excited to be receiving you so you need to step up and make this an Xmas to remember.” For the rest of the week the dream shakes returned like clockwork every time I dozed off.

Two days before the hand-off I asked my sister if anything weird had been happening in the house. She just looked at me for a minute then, “Yes. What have you done?” I brought Owena to her and told her what the deal was. I deliberately didn’t say anything sooner to make sure my sister wasn’t actively looking for anything weird to happen. We’ve had a long history of paranormal things happen in our house so best to not put ideas in her head. This post is super long so I’ll just list some bullet points of shit she experienced.

She felt cold and creepy when she held the doll

There were random cold spots and zones of dread floating around her room.

Her mattress frequently felt like it was breathing but I never told her about my shaking experiences until after she said that.

She thought she heard my great-nephew (her grandson) come up behind her and whisper GRANDMA in her ear only to learn he was in the other end of the house.

Her handheld mirror flew off its hook and into the middle of her floor. The hook flew across the room. The mirror didn’t fall straight down like if the hook was loose. It went several feet out from the wall.

The day came for the exchange and I met my friend for breakfast. Two friends actually- Michelle, the recipient, and Renau (pronounced Renee), an adventure pal. I also gave Michelle a white sage smudge stick and a small bag of gemstones for in case things got crazy. In a cool coincidence Michelle also gave me a bunch of crystals and minerals. We went by the store where I work and tried to make an EVP with Owena. I asked a few questions, then Michelle. Nothing turned up. Renau took a little movie of us while we talked. No odd images appeared. At one point the light seemed to flicker on camera but it definitely didn’t do it in the store. It might have just been an auto lighting thing with her phone but it happened at an odd time. I will try to include those in this post but Tumblr was acting weird when I tried to add pics so I might have to do it in stages. Worst case scenario maybe I’ll put them on Dropbox and add links here. Also, once the doll was gone from my house all the weird stuff stopped happening to my sister... well, things just went back to the normal weirdness let’s say.

So I go to work and Michelle and Renau head back to their homes. That evening Michelle and I both experienced a shake - her with a nap, me at bedtime. I instantly knew it was because I forgot to say goodbye to Owena. Michelle has also heard a few random noises that aren’t typical for her house. She’s also been feeling slight breezes on her hair and face in places where there aren’t any, like in her car. It’s cold here now so no open windows. Her cats have acted slightly out of their normal routines but not full-on freaked out or anything. Michelle has been doing a few experiments to see if she can get any more information from Owena but nothing concrete that matches the eBay description. And if the eBay description is to be believed, and Owena is looking for her family then she might have been somewhat appeased by my and Michelle's houses. Mine is waaay too full of family and Michelle’s kids and in-laws are in and out frequently. I hope she continues to be active but doesn’t do anything malicious. Of course I’ll post updates if anything truly outrageous occurs.

* The little rural suburb type area where I live is called Hilltop. Seemed like too good of a pun to pass up.

#haunted #doll #paranormal #ghost #supernatural #Xmas #EVP #Bizarre States #eBay #Wales #gifts #possession #bigbenalpha

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dawnfletcherstuff · 7 years

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The sky was gray, rumbling in the distance as a faint drizzle began above the outskirts of Sylvanas Town. Two figures walked side-by-side – the taller of the two being a blood elf sporting an especially fancy pair of sunglasses to complement some rad horns as well as a split felstalker bone mask around his collar. On his back was a small brown satchel of books that bounced precariously over the two vibrant pink draenite axes that were hooked onto his hips. Between his blonde pompadour and his odd vest, it was clear that this fellow was one odd customer indeed! That said, the man walking beside him was equally unusual- Lush hair with small, dark mushrooms growing in it was the perfect accentuation to this necrolyte's jaw of solidified shadow and five glowing ochre eyes. For that matter- his arms were a hybrid of shadows and vines.

The two, Armaleonis and Canthar, respectively, plodded forward through the gray mist, looking ahead, determined, but in good spirits, both smiling as they traveled West. As the Amani crypt colloquially known as the 'Tomb of Mystery' drew closer into view with every step, the rumbling in the sky intensified, leading the friends to hasten their pace to the unconventional shelter.

It was much darker in the tomb than it had been the last time- no loa-magic lanterns, no torches or even glowing mushrooms- further, it was silent, save for the slow dripping of a water leak deeper in. Had something happened since their last visit? The atmosphere was completely different, that much was for certain. While some might see an attack that nearly cost the pair their lives as undesirable, there had been some good company, at least. This time, however, it truly lived up to its nature as a graveyard. The two looked to each other, confused as they began to explore. “HEEEEEEEY!” Arma yelled into his cupped hand, pointed toward the deeper interior of the stone catacombs. “WHERE YOU AT, MUMMY DUDE?” Turning, he flinched a bit when he saw Canthar's displeased expression. With five eyes, the necrolyte could give a withering glare that may very well have been able to kill the recipient.

Before Canthar could get the opportunity to give his opinion on the matter, there was a long, agonizing wet noise that culminated in a thud behind them. They turned instantly, looking at what appeared to be a troll mummy in the dark. “Oh, S'tanky, you scared us.” Canthar said, breathing a sigh of relief- that is, until their eyes adapted to the low light and they realized what they were looking at was no troll mummy. It was some sort of creature that most closely resembled a jellyfish, bending itself into a trollish shape. Its body was rippling and swirling as a kaleidoscope-like rotation of colors and patterns quickly emanated from its goopy form, along a cloud of pheromones of some kind. The patterns were quick, even at the start, but at least they had some sort of sense- lines, colors- they began to move at a speed that made all of Canthar's eyes spin. While wordless, there was an undercurrent of chanting in some odd pseudo-language that accelerated as fast as the patterns upon its flesh. The two had no chance and everything went black.

Armaleonis awoke in a cold sweat in the most comfortable bed he could ever remember sleeping in. He tilted his head as he wiped his eyes and yawned. Yeah, that was a bed. His bed? Wasn't he just in a tunnel or something?

He yawned again, gently tapping his forehead as he tried to make sense of the world. It was too early for this, he concluded. He lay himself back down and pulled up the covers, determined to look into it after another...oh, five minutes or so.

“WOOOOORF!”

He was not going to get that extra five minutes. On the one hand, he was mildly annoyed that he had to wake up at this moment, but on the other, he recognized that bark- the owner of which came running into the room with a wide open mouth and lolling tongue! “Roland!” Arma cried out, grinning as he sat up. Most people would have flinched when a giant timber wolf with rusty red fur leapt onto their bed and snuggled them, but not Armaleonis! No, he gave the big lout the biggest dog hug that he could manage. “I've missed you so so much buddy. Man....” “WORF!” The wolf was looking down at him as though he were crazy. Arma leaned back and looked at the big beast and canted his head, as though expecting Roland to explain himself. In that moment, however, the wolf hopped down, made a sharp “Yip!” of urgency and ran out of his room, turning to yip at him again when he was slow to follow. Scratching his head, Armaleonis got up and followed his four-legged friend, who led him through a home that was bigger and more beautiful than any he remembered. Everything fell into place, however, once he passed the West Balcony- and was able to look into a star-filled sky that looked onto the Twisting Nether with alabaster bolts of lightning that tore across the sky. “This is...home?” He said, tilting his head. Another, slightly annoyed yip down the hall reminded him that the wolf was not the patient type, and thus the young blonde elf had to run to catch up. As he did, he found himself entering a forum, in the center of which there was a small series of tables- and most notably, two figures with food on their plates- as well as a third plate! Squinting, he could recognize them- even if his brain took a few moments to catch up- The black haired woman with her hair in a bun and the beige regal priest robes was none other than his mother, and the blonde man in sharp red and gold civil attire was his...father? He looked more closely at his father, head feeling like it was swimming through murk. Don't I have a Dad and a Not-Dad?

He tried to figure this out for a couple moments before his father got up and started walking toward him with a smile.

“You coming to eat breakfast with your old man and your mother or are you gonna stand there til sunset, Leon?” When Armaleonis canted his head a bit, it looked on the one side like his father's hair was scruffy and cut short, but when he looked at him straight, it was as though his hair was perfectly in order and long. He shook it off, chalking it up to not being a morning person, and made his way over to the table, sitting down at the third seat. Roland was sitting next to his chair. He was a good boy. The best boy. His mother leaned on her left hand with a smile. “We thought you weren't going to be up til tonight with how hard you partied last night, Leon. You really ought to thank Roland- at least ONE of you remembered your date with that Ezekiel boy.” Armaleonis tapped his chin. “Ezeki.....Zeke?”

Suddenly, everything made sense to him! His face went red and he put his hands on his cheeks in near panic! “OH NO I'M GONNA BE LATE TO MY DATE! AAAAAAGH!” He immediately jumped up, grabbed a piece of toast, put the corner of it in his mouth and ran to his room to change.

His parents laughed as Roland looked on, panting in what may have been the canine version of a laugh.

As he rapidly changed from his heart-print pajamas into his favorite outfit- a long-sleeved shirt with a fantastic V-neck and fancy ruffles as well as ruffled wrists with slacks and sandals, something struck him as he looked in the mirror.

His eyes. They were...aquamarine.

Something about my eyes...they don't....well, I do have nice eyes.

He flashed himself a grin and nommed a bit of his toast. Mm, cinnamon. With a fist-pump of excitement, he leapt onto the railing and surfed it down to the ground, where he landed with a triple-flip. He waved to his parents and Roland with toast still in his mouth as he ran out to meet his date not too far from home!

Wy tidd feal zmy ydypylzid darvw za ittyez zmuw witruouty, za qujy zmy fdzupizy pyrth ul zmy flylvulq vryip. Gujy zmywy zsa zmy gryiz dirc myrth!

Armaleonis scratched the back of his neck, squinting for a moment. “What was that?” He looked around as he walked, but nothing seemed to be making that noise. He shrugged it off, dashing to meet his date! The tall sin'dorei who was waiting for him was the ultimate ideal of cool- his hair was both wild and expressive, black as night and yet the style was all natural- no hair products necessary! Two large wings stuck out of his back and the lime green tattoos that were on his body, as well as his wicked horns and dragonlike tail swishing behind him made it clear that he was something exotic- a demon hunter! Arma bit his lip, nearly jumping in place, excited to see his date and friend. He didn't know what to say, and luckily, didn't need to say anything as Zeke hugged him firmly.

“You're late, y'know.” The demon hunter couldn't help but snerk at Arma's nature, even if he was late. “Good thing I like you that much, huh?”

Arma's face was completely red as he gave the goofiest grin, fiddling his thumbs together. “W-well, yeah! Yeah! I owe you one! Yeah! So where did you have in mind that you wanted to go?” Zeke tapped his thumb to his chin and shrugged gently. “I was thinking we'd go to a nice place to look at the stars. I know you're gonna wanna stop by to check on your best pal on the way, though.” Armaleonis blinked a few times before nodding rapidly. “Yeah! Oh my gosh, you think of everything! That's why you're the best!” He then tapped his chin. “Well I mean you're the best for a bunch of reasons, from your considerate nature to your confidence and sense of humor and the fact that you're incredibly attractive and are a lot more wise than me and like spending time with me and such.” He babbled a bit, completely redfaced. Zeke merely rubbed the top of Arma's head and led the way. It didn't take long for them to get to their first destination- a large mansion with what looked to be a purple phoenix-print for the door. Tilting his head to look at the yard, he saw a young man who couldn't have been much older than himself practicing dance moves in the backyard. Recognizing him, he waved frantically. “PURPS! OH MY GOSH PURPS! PUUUUUUUURPS!” He waved, jumping up and down for visibility. His date couldn't help but snicker at his enthusiasm.

Across the fence, the young man froze up when Arma cried out, but instead of looking embarrassed, made a beeline right for the gate and opened it at a brisk pace, waving at Arma in return.

“LEON! HEY! BUDDY! PAL! BUD! MY BEST FRIEND! HEY!” His pal, Purps, was looking extra nice today- definitely alive, for starters. His hair was almost fuschia and he had the biggest grin on his face. “I am so glad you stopped by!” He said, hugging Arma gently.

Armaleonis returned the gesture and looked his best pal over. “You are looking really healthy and happy! I'm so glad that you're in one piece and have never fucked my father which means it's okay for me to have a mild attraction to you but not too much because I am your best friend and brotherish figure sort of it's weird but bear with me I'm glad you're you and that's what matters!” Purps nodded. “Yeah man! That's exactly right! Hey, I would love to stick around, but I'm gonna have dinner with my folks! They just got back from a trip and they missed me a whole bunch! I'll hit you up later, okay?” Armaleonis flashed Purps a thumbs up. “Tell me how it goes man!” And with that, he turned toward Zeke with a grin. “Man, you are the best! You made a great day even better!”

Kyye afr witruoutyw kaflv za zmy kditc pyrth! wy'ry qaulq za witruouty zmy aly lipyv cilzmir ourwz!

Armaleonis blinked a few times. Did Zeke say that? Nah. Couldn't have been. The two made their way to their favorite hilltop and lay down together to look at the stars. Getting comfortable and snuggling together with Zeke, Arma smiled.

“This has been the best day ever. I don't know why, but everything just feels...right. I mean, I feel comfortable here with you, and we got to visit my best pal Purps, and my parents are happy together, and I'm healthy and....man. I'm so lucky to be here with you.”

Zeke looked at him warmly and gently brushed a stray hair away from in front of Arma's face.

“This can go on forever, you know.”

Something about his voice sounded off, but Arma did everything in his power to not care. He was happy. This was all that mattered. This was...his perfect world.

As he was lost in thought, something blocked the stars. Shaking his head, he recognized it once his eyes adjusted- it was Roland. Gently moving the wolf out of the way, he sat up and looked into the wolf's eyes. The beast looked at him with a gaze that said everything, wordless as he was.

“Something just ain’t righ...oh Light. You...you died a while back, didn't you, buddy?” Arma asked, breath suddenly tight in his chest. Those eyes looked like they were apologizing to him, grateful to see him, but with a dire warning. The wolf gently set his head on Arma's shoulder and whined.

Gyz zmy clujyw ryivh! wuzm zmywy, sy sudd kulv Canthar za zmy bdulv ezyrluzuyw vorv qiul qryiz easyr!

Armaleonis looked up- it was as though, beyond the stars, in the sky, there was some sort of glass dome over his world that he could now see through. He saw several troll cultists standing overhead, knives drawn above his pal Canthar.

Dream-Zeke's hand gently rested on his shoulder.

“You don't have to go. We can be here, forever.”

Armaleonis looked to Roland.

“What do...I have to do?” He asked the hound tepidly.

The wolf gestured with his head to a shadowy area not too far away, where, when Arma squinted, he could see the form of Ghar'bygg, and behind him-- the demon hunter who made him truly feel fear. Arma took a sharp breath and lowered his head.

“You've done enough for everyone. Don't you think that you deserve to be the one that gets rescued? You don't need to suffer any more. Think of all the good things you've done- you don't need to take that shitty life back!” Dream-Zeke looked more upset than Arma felt, and that was an accomplishment.

Softly, Armaelonis took Zeke's hand off his shoulder and stood up.

“I want nothing more than that.” He said quietly, before looking up at the troll cultists. “But it's out of my hands. I wouldn't be the person you love if I didn't do the right thing. I'm gonna miss you.”

Taking a step forward, he gave the timber wolf one last hug. “You're the best dog a man could ask for.” He was crying now, holding that wolf and trying to lock it into his memories.

Slowly, he got up and walked toward Ghar'bygg, the hound demon. His hound demon.

Someone was about to have a very, very bad day.

As he approached, the form of the felstalker shrank into a red and black orb that hovered in the air in front of the silhouette of the Illidari monster that hurt him. Arma looked up at that monster defiantly and grasped the felstalker essence and closed his hands around it, taking it into his true self.

In a flash, his world was pure agony as he felt every Illidari memory he had been trying to run from at once- and the physical transformation ripping him to shreds- felstalker tendrils ripping out of his back, the mask forming on his neck, the tail jutting out from his spine- and the loss of his true eyesight.

And it was that pain that woke him up with a shriek.

–

The Twilight's Hammer Cultists hadn't intended to run into two adventurers in their looting of an Amani catacomb, but they were all too eager to unleash a new variant of Faceless One upon them- the Dark Mercy- a creature that would entrap its victims in their own fantasies. They had drawn their daggers to sacrifice their new victims, only to be interrupted when the blood elf roared back to life and covered the two cultists standing over him in shadowflame. They turned and ran, but were too slow. The demon hunter gave them a thrashing they would never forget, leaving them holding onto life by mere threads, before picking his friend up and carrying him back to the town they called home.

-Fin.

#ShortStoryPractice #Armaleonis #Arma #PerfectWorld #WoW #BlindedFate

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dailyaudiobible · 5 years

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11/17/2018 DAB Transcript

Ezekiel 35:1-36:.38, James 1:1-18, Psalms 116:1-19, Proverbs 27:23-27

Today is the 17th day of November. Welcome to the Daily Audio Bible. I'm Brian. It is awesome to be here with you as we, well, as we prepare to close the books on another one of our weeks together. And even as we’re closing a week today we’ll be entering into some new territory when we get to the New Testament, and that will be the book of James. And we'll talk about that when we get there. But first we’ve been reading from the Voice Translation all of this week and we’ll continue to do that today. Ezekiel chapter 35 verse 1 through 36 verse 38 today.

Introduction to the Book of James:

Okay. So, I like I mentioned at the beginning, we are entering into some new territory. We concluded the book of Hebrews yesterday and that is always quite an adventure and just a beautiful portrayal and image of our faith. And now we’re at the epistle of James and this is a new voice that we've not heard from in the Bible before. We’ve heard of James but now we’re hearing James writing. And there are plenty of things that are really interesting about the letter of James. It's been scrutinized a number of ways throughout church history including exactly which James are we talking about that wrote this letter. And, so, because of that, dating James has been difficult, but there is a solid solidly supported scenario. The letter was probably written by James, the half-brother of Jesus, who didn't believe in Jesus during his earthly ministry. But after the resurrection, James became a pillar of the early church and was instrumental in some of the major decisions that needed to be made in the early church, like the one held at the Jerusalem Council that opened the way for Gentiles to be accepted into the faith. So, the reason that many biblical scholars find this to be the most compelling scenario is because, like the book of Hebrews or the letter to the Hebrews, whoever wrote this letter that we know as James, this person had influence and authority among the early believers, obviously enough for the letter to be recognized and preserved and that we now find it as part of the New Testament. James, the half-brother of Jesus, certainly fits this criteria in a much more significant way than any other candidate, any other James would. And like the book of Hebrews this letter, the letter of James is clearly written from a Hebrew perspective. I mean, it was addressed to the 12 tribes, Jewish believers who were scattered abroad. So, this at least gives us clues to identifying the original intended recipients of the letter. And it might've been addressed like this because the gospel continued to spread and everywhere the gospel continued to spread the reaction seemed to be persecution in some way. And, so, people were definitely spreading out among the Roman Empire. And the stoning of Stephen that we read about in the book of acts, as kind of the first actual killing of someone for believing in Jesus, this could have caused people to flee the persecution and been a catalyst for this. So, if that's the case then James was probably writing to early believers who had once been in his pastoral care in Jerusalem. And these would've been brothers and sisters who had fled in all directions to find some sort of place where they could live a peace, but they still felt connected to the Jerusalem church. And, of course they would, I mean, it’s like the mother church. So, hearing from Jerusalem would've been something that was treasured, especially if James, the half-brother of Jesus, was the leader of this church as church tradition tells us. But this theory would make James one of the earliest of Christian writings. And if that's true, as many biblical scholars believe then it preserves inside of it some of the earliest postures of the Christian faith, some of the first postures ever written down. So, as we get into this letter, and it’s not a super long letter, more clearly than anywhere else in the New Testament we’re gonna see in the book of James that the choices that we make, that those matter. The core message here is gonna be that we can say whatever we want to say about what we believe, but in the end how we actually live is making the most declarative statement about our faith. In fact, as we learned about faith in Hebrews, this will go a step further in James and we’ll be told that faith without works is dead. And that hasn't always been a popular position. James even got the ire of the reformer Martin Luther over it. James's response to somebody like Martin Luther, though, would probably be indifference because this letter encapsulates some of the boldest and most direct and confrontational truths that we’ll find in the New Testament. So, like if there's a butt kicker book in the New Testament it's going to be James, but underneath it all, James is trying to make a plea. It's a message that needs to be heard, ‘live your life by faith and live your faith by what you do”, which is poignant message for today, I mean, immediate enough that this, in some ways, could’ve been written last week. So, a new voice, some new territory for us as we move forward. And I let's begin James chapter 1 verse 1 through 18.

Prayer:

Father, we thank You for another week, another week in Your word, another week in the story of our lives, another week to share in community as we continue this journey forward. And Father, we’re about to enter into a busy week coming up and that will give way to the busy season that is the holiday season. So, it is upon us. And we thank You father for sustaining us. We thank You Father for giving us the right posture of heart as we move to and through this season. We ask father that guide you our steps, our choices, our decisions for they indeed do matter, as the letter of James will certainly tell us in the coming days. Come Holy Spirit we pray. In Jesus’ name we ask. Amen.

Announcements:

dailyaudiobible.com is the website, its home base, its where you find out what’s going on around here. So, be sure to stay tuned and stay connected.

If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible, you can do that at dailyaudiobible.com. There is a link that lives on the homepage. If you’re using the Daily Audio Bible app, you can press the Give button in the upper right-hand corner or, if you prefer, the mailing address is PO Box 1996 Spring Hill Tennessee 37174.

And, as always, if you have a prayer request or comment, 877-942-4253 is the number to dial.

And that's it for today. I'm Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

Hey Daily Audio Bible family, this is John Corrado calling from Bethlehem Pennsylvania. I hope you’re all doing well. It’s the 14th November and I wanted to mention two things to you guys this morning that I think are super-duper important and things that have brought life and light and hope into my world and I hope they can in your world as well. And the first one is, how much do you like your coffee? I don’t know about you, but the Corrado’s here, we like our coffee. I wouldn’t go so far as to say where coffee snobs by any stretch at all but we do love coffee. And have you ever tried the Daily the Daily Audio Bible windfarm coffee? It’s absolutely amazing! Let me just say this, going back about…I think it’s about eight months or so ago now or maybe six months or so, I started to get the Daily Audio Bible coffee. I’d heard it talked about for…or not talked about for a long time…but mentioned…you know…here and again. And I was just like, man, we love coffee, we should really do that. And by buying the coffee from the Daily Audio Bible we’re actually giving in to the community as well, were kind of tithing into the community. Let me just put it out there to you guys. It’s fantastic and to be able to drink it like out of your, you know, clean canteen, oh my gosh. Just the best ever, just as Brian mentioned. And I’m not blogging it is because like I’m drinking it the Kool-Aid here, I’m actually drinking the coffee and it’s fantastic, and I suggest that you guys try it to. And the other thing is, tithing. I don’t have a lot of time to talk about this, but guys, this community gives light and life and hope to each and every one of us and my suggestion to you is as you think about Thanksgiving, think about a way you can get back into this community as well. You can do that in so many ways. Your support is so, so needed and so appreciated. I love you family.

Hi Daily Audio Bible family, this is Sam from Vancouver giving you a call. I know it’s been a bit since I called in. I just had a prayer request that needed attention. There are some friends, our family, just R and JR going to some real challenges right now with their family and they just need some prayer for them and their kids. So, just appreciate any prayers you could give for them. They could surely use them. Thank you very much family. We love you. Sydney and myself always love you guys. So, thank you for your prayers. Hope you’re doing well, the holidays will treat you well and from Sam, Sydney, Grace, Arena, and Judah, we love you. God bless you.

Karen from St. Louis this is for you. [singing] Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Karen happy birthday to you. [singing ends] And Lord we ask that You will help Karen to delight in You and that You will grant her the desire of her heart, grant her this family that You have in mind for her, that You’ve been dreaming of her in Your perfect time and Your perfect way. And I also ask for Your unfailing love in Your full redemption in her biological family, her time with her sisters. And we just pray that You will help her birthday weekend to be so powerful and beautiful and to display Your love and redemption in ways that she can’t even expect or imagine. Just blow her away with Your…Your love for her, Your care for her, and show her God that You…You’ve been planning something for her but so much better than what she’s even been hoping for or dreaming for. Bless her in Jesus’ name. Love you Karen. Happy birthday. This is Shannon and Salem.

Hello DAB family this is Christy in New York. I’m calling you on November 14th. This is my one-year anniversary of listening to the DAB. So, started here and I started up back again in Genesis in January. So, I just wanted to thank you guys for being part of my life. It’s been wonderful to read the Bible together with you over this year, get to know you, pray with you. I’m also listening to the chronological and it’s interesting, after I started doing listening to both of them for like nine months all of a sudden, I started being able to hear the Holy Spirit clearer and be able to understand and follow better. It’s just been really wonderful that like, this had done that for me in my life. And listening to the Bible this year has really done a lot for me in my life through little important ways that I can’t, you know, really describe. It has meant a lot to me to be…to be a part of your lives and to be a part of your lives. And, so, I always receive your prayers gratefully even if you don’t know you’re praying for me. It’s an important thing for me. So, thank you family. Christy in New York. Bye.

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mylenejgarcia · 7 years

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Should We Fix Malleability in Bitcoin and Bitcoin Cash? If so, how? And when? Written by Jonald Fyookball. If you’re a Bitcoiner or crypto-enthusiast, you’ve probably heard this “malleability” issue being discussed and wondered what it’s all about. Maybe you’ve probably heard a bunch of conflicting ideas and opinions about it too. Let’s break it all down. What’s Malleability? There’s different types of malleability, but to make a long story short, if you create a Bitcoin transaction, someone else (such as a miner or exchange) can modify the transaction ID (txid) before it gets put into a block. What’s a transaction id? Well, think of it as like a “receipt number” for your transaction. Keep in mind, with malleability, a third party cannot change the recipient of the funds, nor the amount, nor the fee… they can only change the txid. So what’s the big deal? Hold on, we’re gonna get to that. I want to give you the complete picture here. Feature or Bug? The first thing to realize is that malleability is sort of “baked into” the design of Bitcoin. Bitcoin uses a kind of cryptography called the Elliptic Curve Digital Signature Algorithm (ECDSA). And it is a well-known fact that these digital signatures are malleable. In other words, a third party can change the signatures in certain ways, but they will still be valid. The same is also true for other types of digital signatures. For example, an ECDSA signature which is an (r,s) pair can be malleated as (r, -s). All you do is take the negative of “s” and the signature is still valid… although different. Now combine this with the fact that Bitcoin transactions (including the signatures) are hashed to create a chain of ownership. Because ECDSA signatures are inherently malleable, and those signatures are part of each transaction, that means that Bitcoin transactions are going to be malleable. Because of all this, you could reasonably call malleability a ‘feature’ of Bitcoin. Yet, you could also call it a bug since there are some non-desirable consequences of this. I think the best words to use are that this is an issue, and that a change to Bitcoin code to handle this would be an enhancement. Malleability is Not a Huge Problem Right off the bat, I can tell you that anyone claiming that malleability is a huge, urgent problem is either uninformed or lying. That’s because malleability has been around for 9 years since the beginning. The infamous Mt Gox thefts have been blamed on malleability but those theories have been debunked. As the properties of malleability are well known, no wallet or other software should be relying on transaction ids, and if they are, that software can and should be fixed. Malleability in Bitcoin still exists today. Even in BTC, Segwit only prevents malleability in Segwit transactions, which currently make up about 5–10% of the total transactions. Malleability as a Political Tool One of the benefits of fixing malleability is that it makes other projects (such as the Lightning Network) easier to implement. Because certain groups desire those projects, they may greatly exaggerate the need to fix malleability. Just be aware that this has been going on. Does Malleability Help Wallet Development? Another one of the claimed benefits of fixing malleability is that it will help developers of wallets — for example because its supposedly “easier to monitor transactions by txid”. I think this is highly debatable. Wallets and other software already have code to handle transactions. And many of the proposed changes for malleability actually add a great deal of complexity to Bitcoin, rather than simplify it. 0-Conf Transactions Now that we have discussed what I consider the “non-issues”, we come to the actual issue, and it has to do with 0-conf transactions. In Bitcoin, you know a transaction is confirmed once a miner includes it in a block and publishes the block to the blockchain. The more confirmations, the more secure the transaction. Transactions not yet included in a block can be said to be unconfirmed, pending, “out there in the mempool”, zero confirmation, or “0-conf”. Most everyone knows that a transaction that is unconfirmed is less secure than a transaction that has at least 1 confirmation. But how much less secure? Well that depends… Core Vs Cash Philosophies on 0-Conf I’ll get back to how this relates to malleability in a moment, but let’s discuss “0-conf” a bit more. Perhaps you didn’t realize it, but 0-conf is actually a controversial topic that’s highly relevant to the Bitcoin scaling debate. The ‘Bitcoin Core’ philosophy is that we should have a layered system with high fees on the base layer. So unless you use the proper high fee, your unconfirmed transaction might take a long time to confirm, or it may never confirm. During this time, it could be double spent or replaced with “RBF” (replace by fee). In this system, 0-conf is fairly unsafe and unreliable… which makes sense if Bitcoin Core wants you to use second layer solutions. The ‘Bitcoin Cash’ philosophy is that fees should not be inflated, and blocks should not be full. This makes 0-conf fairly safe and reliable…which makes sense if Bitcoin Cash wants you to be able to conduct your transactions on the blockchain. It Only Affects “Unconfirmed Parent” Transactions Let’s say you have an unconfirmed incoming transaction show up in your wallet, and you immediately try to spend those funds before that incoming transaction has a confirmation. Your outbound transaction now has a status of “unconfirmed parent”, since the “parent” (the incoming transaction) hasn’t been confirmed yet. Normally, not a problem. When the parent transaction gets confirmed, then the child transaction can also get confirmed, either in the same block or a subsequent block. But, if a miner decides to malleate the parent transaction, then that child transaction won’t be valid, since the input is a hash of a transaction Id that no longer exists. To explain this further: Before it is malleated, the original parent transaction Id exists in the mempool of each node and miner. (“Mempool” means memory pool, or a collection of transactions). But once the miner malleates it and puts it into a block, the original transaction with the original Id will disappear from the other miners’ mempools since those outputs will now be spent. This means that the child transaction (the one you sent out) is guaranteed to fail. How Often Does This Actually Happen? Normally, miners don’t malleate transactions. They have little or nothing to gain by doing so. One reason is to prove a point. Recently, a mining pool called Bitclub decided to go on a malleation spree, for apparently political reasons. But even when this kind of thing happens, in order to be affected you would need to have a transaction with an unconfirmed parent, and then your transaction would have to be malleated and mined by the attacking miner. And even if that were to happen, your transaction would fail and the funds would go right back into your wallet since the transaction would be instantly invalidated. Is There an Actual Problem with a Real Life Use Case? If a transaction fails, its usually not a problem for the Internet user sitting at home. But in real life, a merchant may not want to accept a transaction with an unconfirmed parent if there is a (small) risk a miner may malleate it. One source of these transactions is change addresses. For example, if you buy a $2 item with a $20 unspent output, you get back $18 in change. Now that $18 will be unconfirmed. Even so, these kinds of issues can be avoided without any protocol changes. You could theoretically split a $20 bill into 20 singles at the push of a button before going out to shop. And it could later be sent back to “the vault” for storage. Splitting and combining value can be done easily and cheaply when fees are low. The more commonplace this is, the more privacy increases because it makes blockchain analysis increasingly burdensome and complex. Fixing Malleability for the Right Reason 0-conf transactions could theoretically be made stronger for the “unconfirmed parent” situation. This is at least a decent motivation for fixing malleability. Bitcoin Core instead wants to fix malleability because it helps make second layer services easier to code. It is not even necessary for those services. It just makes some current implementations easier. But that is not a good reason to change the protocol. Two Possible Approaches There are two basic approaches when it comes to trying to fix malleability. The first is adding consensus rules that dictate the precise details for how signatures are generated. This was attempted in Bip62, but the Bip was withdrawn, perhaps because consensus changes activating would actually be a hard fork. If you read the Bip, you will see that “Bitcoin transactions are malleable in multiple ways”. Pieter Wuille identifies many of them, but there may be other ways that third party malleability is possible. The second approach involves modifying the block and transaction structure so that the signatures are not a part of the transaction hash. This is the approach taken by Segwit, Flex Trans, and MalFix. If We’re No Longer Including the Signatures in the Hash, What Does That Imply? The Bitcoin whitepaper, in section 2, says this: We define an electronic coin as a chain of digital signatures. Each owner transfers the coin to the next by digitally signing a hash of the previous transaction and the public key of the next owner and adding these to the end of the coin. A payee can verify the signatures to verify the chain of ownership. All of these malleability fixes (Segwit, Flex Trans, and MalFix) change that. We are no longer signing a hash of the previous transaction. We’re signing only the transaction without it’s signature (which is the most important part) and then including that signature somewhere else in the block. A purist might say that this is no longer Bitcoin. SegWit Sorry, SegWit fans. But out of all the malleability proposals, SegWit is the worst. It weakens the Bitcoin security model since signatures are optional for non-upgraded clients, and discardable by everyone. Also, SegWit only fixes malleability for SegWit transactions, which currently account for only 5–10% of the total transactions. FlexTrans Flextrans is a better proposal. It is a hard fork that only changes a few lines of code. Transactions are not discardable as with SegWit, and the malleability is fixed for all transactions. Still, the strict definition of Bitcoin as a chain of digital signatures (from one transaction to the next) is not preserved. But does it matter? Maybe not… But maybe. Is FlexTrans Still a Chain of Signatures? With schemes such as FlexTrans, you aren’t directly hashing the entire transaction before chaining it to the subsequent transaction, but the signatures are still in the block and they then become part of the entire block’s hash. That hash is then used by the next block (unlike Segwit which puts the signatures into a second merkle tree which is NOT used by the next block). On the surface, it appears that the Flextrans security model isn’t weaker than the original Bitcoin since a signature must always be present to transfer ownership. And it could be further argued that we still have a chain of digital signatures. The difference is that the security has been moved from the transaction level to the block level. FlexTrans and Ideas Like It Should be Studied Further On the other hand, Flextrans IS a change from the whitepaper’s Bitcoin. It is somewhat troubling to start heading down the road of separating signatures from transactions. That seems to make it easier in the future for miners to make further (undesirable) changes. Bitcoin has worked well for 9 years. In general, we should extremely careful to change the formula, especially with something as sensitive at how we handle the signatures. If a signature is separate from a transaction, does that make it easier to perform certain kinds of hashing collision attacks? I do not know, but proposals like Flextrans should be deeply studied and peer reviewed before they are considered for deployment. The cost/benefit should be evaluated carefully. What are the costs of deeply researching and analyzing the risks of changing Bitcoin, and what benefits do we actually get? Maybe the Best Option is Simply Do Nothing There was a great comment on reddit the other day. When asked if Bitcoin should ever include some “off chain” scaling, u/coincrazyy commented: We will do this WHEN WE NEED TO. Let’s onboard 1 billion people first with gigablocks and $.01 transactions FIRST. Don’t solve problems that DO NOT EXIST The same philosophy should be applied to malleability. Is it a problem right now? And for who? Arguably, the only worthwhile benefit to fixing malleability is to solidify 0-conf reliability for unconfirmed parent transactions. But we have a long ways to go on merchant adoption, and we should not put the cart before the horse. Let’s get so many merchants on board, so that this becomes an actual (rather than theoretical) problem. That will be the right time to address malleability as a priority. Written by Jonald FyookballJonald Fyookball (pseudonym) is a cryptocurrency enthhttps://news.bitcoin.com/should-we-fix-malleability-in-bitcoin-and-bitcoin-cash-if-so-how-and-when/ To get started: http://bit.ly/unlibitcoin To double its value: http://bit.ly/btc-gold

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