#my advice if you book him is to get those labs done right away you WILL be moved up on the list

[lec743]

Magic and Science

Since Donnie unleashed his Hamato Ninpō, his interest in magic has grown from smug disinterest to wait maybe I can use it to upgrade my tech. It’s a growing process. He’s done his research and has stolen some of Barry’s notes on his own tech/magic hybrids, but never really asked him for advice incase the yōkai would try to stop him from his experimenting.

I would think that Tina would try to help him, like he’s tinkering in the kitchenette or in the small bedroom in Barry’s studio apartment and she sees him messing with a magical plant that she knows can be dangerous if you’re not careful and she tries to help.

This is how I imagine that scenario.

*******************************************************************************************

(Tina enters Barry’s studio apartment, holding a pile of books that she’s loaning to Mikey that’s about art history and techniques)

(Tina finds the apartment empty but hears rummaging and movement in the kitchenette)

(Tina sets the books on the couch and goes to the kitchenette. When she looks inside, she sees a full on mad scientist chemistry set like thing going on as Donnie is looking through a microscope. He has headphones on and she could hear the dubstep from where she was standing)

(plugged into a laptop, S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. was on the kitchenette counter by the stove behind Donnie. The screen had the MS Paint program on it and it was in the process of digitally painting a copy of the Mona Lisa. Tina smiled at that.)

(Tina enters the kitchenette and starts looking around. She recognized a lot of the plants he’s experimenting on. Muscle Root. Iron Bark. Strangle Weed. Dragon’s Breath. All extremely volatile plants that require a gentle touch.)

D: (screams)

T: (jumps from him screaming) (the Strangle Weed that she was cautiously examining jumped out at her and wrapped itself around her neck. Strangling her.)

D: Oh! No! Hold on! I’ve got weed killer!” (grabs a bottle from under the kitchen sink)

T: (backs away from him with a head shake as he approaches her)

D: Tina hold still! This is why you don’t enter a scientist’s lab when they’re not paying attention.

T: (starts seeing black spots in the corner of her eyes but she keeps motioning for Donnie to calm down and leave her be)

D: Okay! Fine. I’ll just spray you when you pass out.

T: (closes her eyes and stays still. Little by little, the Strangle Weed loosened its grip the calmer she becomes. Then it falls off her neck and into her hands) (still calm, like it’s still around her neck, she finds tupperware and gently puts the Strangle Weed in it) (once the Strangle Weed was sealed away, she gasped for breath and started coughing)

D: Wait. How’d you do that? I could only ever get it off by killing it.

T: (saying in a raspy voice) First of all, make me some tea with honey, then we’ll talk.

(Tina’s sitting on the couch in the living room as she’s rubbing the soreness around her neck.)

(Donnie comes out of the kitchenette with a cup of tea and sits next to her after giving her, her tea)

T: (drinks her tea and feels the warm liquid sooth her sore throat) (sighs) Why do you keep messing with dangerous plants? (her voice was still croaky sounding)

D: Hey. I learned from the vines incident.

T: (coughs) Did you though?

D: (glares at her)

T: I’m guessing you got those plants because you heard they can do amazing things, right?

D: Yah. Muscle Root for instance can regenerate things from other plants to even machines and that’ll come in handy for when my computer chips break.

T: Mh-hm, and did you know they’re illegal?

D: I-- Wait what?

T: Yah. (coughs) They’re mostly illegal across the sea like in Japan and South Africa, while here in the states it’s in the gray area of legality, and you need a permit to even have any.

D: I didn’t even look that up. The guy I bought my stuff from never asked for a permit.

T: (sighs) Muscle Root is grown from the decaying bodies of an unburied human corps.

D: AH! What!

(Tina drinks her tea some more, giving Donnie time to process that information)

D: How much trouble am I in?

T: With me? (coughs) None. And you’re right, Muscle Root would be great for repairing your tech in a tight situation, but these are magical plants you’re dealing with. Not “morally” illegal plants like marijuana. (coughs) These plants genuinely have emotions you have to be tentative to.

D: Ah...

T: So can I help with your experiments?

D: (sighs) The responsible thing to do would be to stop with my experiments.

T: (nodded in agreement) True.

(the two of them sit on the couch in silence for a few minutes and Tina finishes her tea.)

D: (stands up) I learned that the flower Dragon’s Breath can make you live longer, is that true? (starts walking back into the kitchenette)

T: (follows him) That’s only true for people who drink it as a tea and is meant for people at the age of 75 or older. Any younger and it can give you heart palpitations and is capable of giving you a heart attack.

*******************************************************************************************

For those who may be interested: @rheawritesforfun, @digitl-art-monstr, @fluffytriceratops, @puppyofalpacas, @goosebumpsturtlegal

#fanfiction #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #rise donnie #oc-Tina Kurama

[prof-peach]

Hey Prof, I need your advice.

My sister recently decided she didn't wanted her bulbasaur anymore (she got him on a whim about a month ago) and gave him to me, he is quite violent and tends to attack when I try to get close to him.

Now, that wouldn't be a huge problem, but my Purrloin has gotten hurt trying to befriend him, she's quite outgoing and never really liked fighting (we enjoy contests so she knows a few more flashy attacks), so she couldn't even defend herself properly.

I don't want to give up on him and my local rescue center is filled with Bunearies (you know, after Easter kids don't want their Bunny anymore) so they can't take him in right now, any advice in how I can go about this situation?

Sounds to me like you have a tricky little dude on your hands. So you're not battle orientated which will make this harder, Bulbasaur in the wild are actually quite combat minded to defend their families and territory, and a lot of their herds consist of strict hierarchy based on power and skill, often led by older, fully evolved members of their group. 

Before you take any actions to befriend them, its worth noting that any pokemon who comes into your care showing aggression is usually doing so for one or two reasons that are pretty universal for any species. Fear being the main issue with pokemon who have been ditched, if a pokemon is unwell, if it feels exposed, if it is unsure of you or your home, your partners, it may lash out because it is afraid. Even what looks like pure anger can stem from a fear. Of course some individuals are just full of rage, its not unheard of, but for the most part it comes from somewhere else. 

For a moment, take the time to put yourself in this pokemons shoes. It was chosen, with hopes and ambitions of its own, by your sister, a stranger to them, and for whatever reason they were cast aside. This reason may be unclear to the pokemon, it may be unfair, unkind, or even without malice just out of pure indifference. No matter the reason, this pokemon has been left behind by a trainer it at one point probably wanted to try to get along with. I don’t know what your sister may or may not have done, or provided for the bulbasaur, but it will help you understand how its feeling, if you were to ask her about their relationship prior to you receiving the pokemon. If it has always been aggressive and angry, i’d seriously consider talking to it about release, not rehome. 

We humans have a preconceived notion that pokemon are pets and things to keep with us. This may be true for some sure, but not every pokemon wishes to be a captive to a human, they may want more for themselves, and wish for a free life with their own kind. We cannot put our wants and desires above that of the pokemons, so you two need to have a talk, at a respectful distance for safeties sake, to see what the Bulbasaur feels they may want. These are herd pokemon, born and bred to be with their own kind, if not a larger group, if its lonely, if it wants to go home, to start a family, or simply to not be held in a ball as some creature to be owned, then you as its current carer must give it what you can. You can always find another pokemon who wants to be your partner, but you cannot give back lost years to a pokemon who has lived a life its unhappy with. Treat them with respect, and be open and honest. At the end of the day we have a chance to help pokemon, and forcing what we want onto them is a hinderance, and will lead to them feeling unsatisfied and bitter in the long run. 

Some pokemon lash out due to the process of being handed off to someone else, trust is earnt, not always just simply given to whoever holds the pokeball. Remember this as you move forward, and try to keep your other pokemon away from them, Bulbasaur are territorial species, and have to accept pokemon into their families before simply allowing them to come and go freely into their personal space. Despite their grouchy natures at times they usually do have a morally positive compass, and defend with ferocity when they love something. Perhaps in you showing genuine concern for their welfare and future, offering them not what you want, but instead what they want, they may give you a chance to get closer, but take baby steps, and try to be their friend above all else. I bet they're feeling pretty lonely right now. 

Its worth sharing interests with the pokemon, talk about contests, see if they're interested, some pokemon have a predisposition for this, others have no interest and prefer more battle based lives, or even peaceful non-competitive existences. no amount of pressure will change a pokemon’s nature, and some just aren't cut out for the fine art of showmanship that contests require. You can however use powerful attacks in showy ways, so theres always hope that they could enjoy it, if you can work with them to their strengths. 

If possible, work to getting them outdoors, cooping grass types up can lead to stroppy, testing personalities, many thrive in the outdoors, he may need some serious outside time to compensate for the lack of exercise and natural stimulation they may have not been getting prior to your ownership. There are plenty of areas in public that are much like tennis courts, areas of space you can book for a set amount of time too exercise difficult pokemon, these locations are often secure facilities, both outdoors and indoors, to suit a range of species. find one that has outdoor facilities and book a few hours per week to go there, increasing the time whenever possible. This exercise and time with you may help to find common ground, and topics that you and the bulbasaur can bond over. This can be anything from battles, to sun bathing, playing sports, games, swimming, running or digging, and everything in between. Bulbasaur naturally are great foragers and tend to like to snaffle about in long grass and shrubland, hiding treats like berry slices in a secure environment is good enrichment and can tire the pokemon out. a tired pokemon is usually a little less aggressive, having lower energy levels and less want to expend attacks. this process also associated you with something fun, and your scent will be on the treats too, so they'll know you were the one to provide this activity for them.   

I’d also take plenty of time to observe the bulbasaur, as your sister got them on a whim, they probably had no prior knowledge of the species, or how to correctly care for them. In a month, a health complaint could have begun to show, so observe their colouration, feet, walking gait, sleeping patterns, feeding habits, and general behaviour. Excess scratching, heavy breathing, or unusual shaking or moving can suggest a health condition is starting to take form. Most can be helped if caught early, but some illnesses give the pokemon discomfort, and can lead to snappy tempers and irritability. It could be that this individual is in pain, or finding life difficult due to its health, which can cause a lot of hostility as i’m sure anyone would agree. It can suck to be sick!

This species can be won over if you can prove you have a skill of worth to them. This is the case with a lot of pokemon, having respect for something they cannot do, and learning that they need things from you can lead to them at least tolerating us humans. Its a foot in the door. A trick i like t use with particularly difficult bulbasaur is to give them their fav food, whatever it is, then put it in a clear container the pokemon cannot open. They have no thumbs, and their vines though dexterous, aren't able to open every kind of container. The pokemon will want whats inside, and be unable to access it. they will eventually give up out of frustration. this is where you come in. enter the space, don’t let your pokemon approach as this can be threatening, and open the container. leave it on the floor open, making sure they've watched you get the thing open. They can then approach and enjoy their fav food, all thanks to you and those wondrous thumbs you have. repeating this process yields good results, and starts a mutual relationship of tolerance and acceptance between you and a bulbasaur. Most will accept they want the food more than they want you gone, and you provide something they can’t get to. whatever you do, don’t let them see that you were the one to lock the food up in the container. Get a friend to do it, or do it in the room, and leave it in place on the floor, before allowing the bulbasaur to enter and investigate the item. If they see you're the one doing it, the trick is foiled, and your back to square one. Eventually this does tend to lead to the pokemon becoming less stressed with you around them, and eventually it leads to trust, and even friendship. This trick is good to use to get them use to you, once they're ok with you being around them because of your use to them, they may start to take food from you directly, engage in play, or even just sit and tolerate company for short periods of time. Do not expect this to be quick, but it does usually do the trick. 

Regardless, i do have concern that the pokemon may want to be with its own, should you discuss this and find they're not interested in being housebound and a pet, feel free to send them our way, we had exactly this situation in mind when setting up the islands facilities, and have extensive locations designed with grass pokemosn needs at the forefront. Theres a small herd of about 12 bulbasaur evolutions that live north of our labs, no people see them, they are happy as a unit, and are left alone to go about their lives, with the only interactions between humans being us giving them their yearly health check, or should we spot them with an issue, we may intervene. They live away from others and pretty much free, in a poacher safe environment. Its not ideal, we like to keep pokemon in areas they come from, with people who love them, and you show great concern for the pokemon so it would be a shame to have to let them go, BUT sometimes thats just life, and theres nothing to be done about it other than accepting that the pokemons wants come first. They may just be mistrusting so try everything else first, and see how you go. hopefully you’ll yield some results from this all. Good luck out there trainer. 

#long post #bulbasaur #prof.peach #peach talks

[anntoldst0ries]

shinrin-yoku (Ethan x MC)

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Dr Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr Noelle Valentine) Word Count/Rating: ~1.7k, PG Summary: When life's difficulties hit, Noelle navigates her way through them by turning to the nature. Category: Hurt & Comfort Warnings: mentions of trauma

A/N: May is a Mental Health Awareness month and here in the UK the theme is nature. My MC, just like me, runs to the woods when things get tough. It helps her clear her head and reconnect with inner strength.

I struggle with mental health myself and it’s important for me to speak up and address the subject. There is nothing worse than shaming or discrediting someone’s difficult feelings. It’s fine not to be fine.

If you struggle alone, please don’t. My inbox will welcome you with open arms. Two heads are better than one, even if we just complain, at least we can complain together 💜

For @choicesmaychallenge2021 Day 13 - Mental Health

SHINRIN-YOKU - A Japanese term for ‘forest bathing’ or the sense of well-being you experience while in nature.

~~

It all starts with a seed. This tiny element which, without aid, is sentenced to certain death. But give it the right soil. Give it water, sun. And it can grow. Into something big. Powerful. Scary.

~~

She is five years old.

They live in a townhouse, a classy Victorian era building. Undistinguished, one of many merging into the background of a typical London street. The colors are also very standard,  dirty white married to ivory beige, bar for the deep green door - their rebel child.

For the random passerby, it’s nothing special. But for her, the walls of a storey house encapsulate the whole world.

The garden behind the house is neat and clean, visibly well taken care of. She doesn’t remember exact details anymore, but she remembers begging her parents to go camping in the garden with her brother. The ticklish feeling of long and slim blades of grass on her tiny feet. Looking at the stars with pure awe and delight, that only the unspoiled mind of a child is capable of.

The plot of land that the house has been built on borders a beautiful forest. A wooden fence separates the two.

To her, it’s a passage to a magical world.

A world without any particular order, living its own life, unconstricted by rules. Not in the slightest does it resemble the garden on her side of the fence, where things grow according to the rules laid out by the adults.

There is a feeling inside her that she’s too young to name, to throw it in lingual context. It’s not until years later that she realized what it had been. Freedom. To grow however you please. To be what you want to be.

Robust, effuse trees tower over her, making her feel so small. As if she hasn’t already been feeling small enough, living in a world full of giants.

But they mean something else too. They bring a secret and a promise. Promise of a bigger world out there, far from the confines of the place she calls home.

The forest draws her, singing a melody that only her heart can understand. One day, she will be a part of it.

~~

She lives the teenage dream life.

That’s what everyone says.

She doesn’t have any real problems. She’s lucky not having to worry about money. She’s got friends. Her family is great. She just needs to stop whining. Her life is perfect.

Their words, not hers.

None of them know what happens behind closed doors.

The childhood forest is a cloudy memory. Her home is now thousands of miles away, in a city with a giant red bridge, which for some bizarre reason has ‘golden’ in its name.

But the call from nature doesn’t care about distance. It can find you about anywhere. It’s different and yet the same.

Because nature beats in one rhythm and speaks in the same language, everywhere.

The morning is chilly and humid. She’s wearing a wooly coat, carelessly threw on a pair of PJs hiding underneath.

Her steps are brisk, breathing short and heartbeat elevated. Something’s bothering her blanched face.

The voice, again.

When it first appeared, she thought it had her best interest at heart. Used to give her advice and like a good friend, ream her out when she did something bad.

Over time, things took a turn for the worse.

Snarky comments. Casually mentioned wrongdoings. Feedback on what she could have done better, differently.

Noelle hoped the voice would go away on its own.

It hasn’t.

Not only did the voice not go away, but it was actually growing stronger with each passing day. Became more vocal. Judgmental. Openly hostile.

It fed on her fears.

It’s your fault - it told her - that your parents are getting divorced.

You are not good enough.

Even a lie, repeated enough times, will finally become the truth. And so it did for her, to the point where she couldn’t distinguish her own voice from the voice of the tormentor. Sounds faded into one.

Whoever said words can cut like a knife was right. But those who knew thoughts could leave scars that are much deeper, were truly wise.

The young, beautiful girl who never hurt a soul, became a hostage. A prisoner locked in the jail of her own head.

A giant tear rolled down her face. Made of all the words her heart couldn’t say.

She hugged the tree tightly and inhaled the woodsy aroma, the scent filling her lungs fully.

It’s sensuous.

Just like that, she is small again.

~

She’s got all that she ever wanted.

Degree from one of the best medical schools. Graduating with honors and glowing recommendations from even the strictest professors, who kept assuring her that her future in medicine is so bright it’s actually blinding. Then, a dreamy residency in one of the most prestigious hospitals in the country.

Pretty impressive, right? Even a fool could see that. But the only fool whose opinion she cared about, couldn’t. All these things were clearly not good enough for Ethan Ramsey to stay.

She wasn’t good enough for him to stay.

Not longer than a year ago he was just a concept, an ideal without a face, body and voice. To her, he was a celebrity, a hero, someone whom mortals don’t have access to.

It was preposterous to consider for even a second Dr Ramsey could actually see something in an intern.

Standing among the moss-covered trees, every fiber of her being was filled with the thought of him.

Did the Amazonian forest remind him of her, just like every forest around reminded her of him?

Just when she won the battle for her career, she lost another. Because life had to be a zero-sum game.

As painful as that would have been, she wished she had something to hold onto. A scene she could replay in her mind. An image of him walking away. Or saying goodbye.

But he left without a word.

That was the pattern. That was history repeating itself.

She took her shoes off and stepped on the soil frosted with morning dew. It’s cold and wet. It’s refreshing. She is grounding. Reconnecting with Earth.

Tunes in with the rivers of grass, towers of trees, fences of bushes.

If the trees could speak, they’d tell stories not many people would believe in.

Tales of heartbreaks. Parables of spirits.

They are all nature’s poems.

Hauntingly beautiful. Riveting. Written without a single word.

Because nature speaks its very own language that only the soul, not the mind, can understand.

Pain is ripping her apart. But it reminds her that she’s alive. And this, in itself, is a miracle.

~~

She doesn’t know who she is anymore.

Some people call her a survivor. But it doesn’t feel like the right word. So many things in her died. So much was lost.

The attack took a lot from her. Danny. Bobby. Sense of security. Identity. Direction.

Right and wrong, good and bad, righteous and vicious. These are all just words. Someone needs to come and teach her the meaning of them anew. Draw lines, mark out frontiers. Save her from herself.

The ground is soaked. Torrential rain turned the soil into soft mud, warm and easily slipping through her fingers. She falls on her knees, praying for the ground to consume her.

Fill every part of her. Silence the internal cacophony. To sink into oblivion.

Not many people knew about the panic attacks and recurring nightmares. They’re always the same.

She’s standing in the middle of a swamp. Danny and Bobby are drowning, their arms reaching out for her. She knows she can only save one of them. She runs out of time trying to figure out how to save both. As a result, they both die. Time stands still and yet everything is spinning, moving, racing. The reality is a riot of overbright colours.

Suddenly, a ring breaks the silence. A polyphonic intruder. She looks at the screen through hooded eyes and notices the caller’s name. It’s him. He’s petrified. Worried to death. Asks her to stay where she is.

Some time later, maybe 10 minutes, maybe an hour - who knows? - he emerges from the gathering of stocky oaks.

The moment he catches the sight of her, he starts running. She notices a lab coat underneath the jacket. He’s soaking wet.

Even though he is so close, he doesn’t slow down. Crashing into her, he scoops her in his arms. Catches her in the tightest of embraces.

Asks her if she’s fine. No. Not that question again. She’s tired of people fussing over her and gets angry.

Had it not been for the attack, would he even be here? The voice asks mockingly. It doesn’t matter to her. He’s there now.

Deep baritone is gentle and full of concern. It’s not like that. It’s not his intention to fuss. He’s simply worried. Because she is the most important thing to him in the whole world. Yes, he wasted so much time. That’s why he refuses to lose even one more second.

A dam breaks within her. Eliciting a quiet sob. She clutches his shirt, holds onto him for dear life. Moments later, she’s screaming at the top of her lungs. Singing her poignant birdsong.

How is she supposed to cope? Will things ever go back to normal? What is normal anyway?

In the confines of the infamous patient room she never felt more scared in her life. But here, out in the open, she feels so safe. As if she’s had a silent agreement with nature, which vouched to protect her at all costs.

And this time, nature had an ally. Because Ethan will protect her, even if it’s the last thing he does. Holding onto each other, they stand in the nothingness.

It keeps them grounded. Connected to their roots. Turning over new leaves. Bending before they break. Growing.

They get lost. Mother Nature has a reward for those who do. They have a chance to find themselves. Over and over again.

~~~

If you made it this far - thank you & you're awesome 🥰

Tag list: @genevievemd @gryffindordaughterofathena @terrm9@starrystarrytrouble @the-pale-goddess @jamespotterthefirst @lisha1valecha @writer-ish @maurine07 @drakewalkerfantasy@iemcpbchoices @liaromancewriter @lem-20 @lucy-268 @oldminniemcg @queencarb @qrkowna @mercury84choices @lsvdw-blog @utterlyinevitable @stygianflood @udishaman @romewritingshop @romereadingshop @alina-yol-ramsey @stateofgracious @xxsugarplumfluffsxx @binny1985 @tsrookie @fayeswiftie @archxxronrookie @tinkertailorsoldierspy @schnitzelbutterfingers @wingedhairstylemusicweasel @theinvisibledreamergirl @custaroonie @irisofpurple @chasingrobbie @ethandaddyramseyx @quixoticdreamer16 @coffeeheartaddict @takemyopenheart @aworldoffandoms @potionsprefect @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

#open heart #Ethan Ramsey x mc #choices fic writers creations #fics of the week #mental health awareness

[churchyardgrim]

BARONESS OF BLOOD by Elaine Bergstrom

[intro post]

so this one isssss alright. solid 7/10, a decent palate cleanser between more high-octane books

it's lots of political machinations, scheming and manipulating and just so much poison you guys, just a frankly irresponsible amount of poison.

we open with some vaguely european country undergoing a bloody civil war, the current baron handling it about as badly as anyone can expect. point of advice, maybe don't knuckle down into brutal despotism when ppl are understandably unhappy about all the executions you keep ordering. Azalin can get away with it bc he can vaporize ppl from three miles away; you, my dude, cannot.

having finally murdered anyone willing to admit to disagreeing with him, the baron then decides the best course of action going forward is to immediately invade his wealthy neighbor in order to pay for all the damage he did to his own lands. brilliant, right! why has no one ever thought of this before!

so he ends up conquered and beheaded, naturally. i could see this one coming my guy, and i've only been here for thirty pages. 

the conqueror, a responsible-looking guy called Peto, feels obligated to stick around and try to fix this place instead of handing the governorship off to an underling, or just annexing the place into his own country. two out of three of the old baron's kids are willing to work with him on the Fixing Shit front, being more or less happy to see open warfare end.

the third kid… well. Ilsabet is a fantastic protag in my humble onion, bc she's like what you'd get if Ianthe Tridentarius was about 60% subtlety by volume; vicious, ambitious, and very fuckign interested in her father's best friend's poison collection.

the first chunk of this book is mostly establishing almost everyone else in the plot as Largely Well Adjusted And Willing To Work Together, and Ilsabet as the outlier who shouldn't have been counted and who is seething with vengeance and feminine rage for her father's death

Ilsabet starts learning herblore and how to handle toxic substances from her dad's advisor, a guy called Jorani, and boy howdy the whole plot coulda been a lot shorter if this guy had just seen the writing on the wall a liiiiittle bit sooner, before he got attached

bc he does get attached! and by the time he realizes that Ilsabet is a vicious lil sadist he's too much in his feelings to do anything about it. i have some amount of sympathy for the guy, bc he's not totally useless, but also like. dude. come on. a little bit of arsenic goes a long way here.

our protag starts experimenting on her own time without lab instructor supervision, and honestly the horror in this one is actually quite well done! it lingers on the gruesome details of death by poison or infection, and in the confused obliviousness of good-hearted ppl who just don't get why terrible sickness keeps happening for no reason

i suppose in a setting where Shit Yourself To Death Soup is just what happens when you don't boil your drinking water well enough, instead of something advertised on instagram as a hot new diet fad, it's a lot easier to get away with poisoning ppl

and Ilsabet, just for fun, is apparently a fuckign psychopomp? every time she kills or causes suffering, or even witnesses it, the book describes bystanders noticing that she seems mysteriously more beautiful and radiant, as if she's literally absorbing the suffering of those around her as life energy

she's not doing this intentionally! it takes her till the last third of the book to even make the connection! she's just a natural sadist and i'm kind of into it

like damn woman just find a bdsm club that'll work with your specialties and have a career

anyway she offs her siblings for cooperating with the enemy, offs her maid for maybe being within spitting distance of making a connection here, offs just so many prisoners in the course of scientific inquiry, its bad yall, its baaaaaaad

she also seduces lingering conqueror Peto by way of poisonous aphrodisiacs, for political machinations! the plan is apparently, use him to get an heir that's got title to both their kingdoms, and then poison him slowly and horrifically over a period of years

talk about a toxic relationship, smh

she also manages to dig up a tasty forbidden text about even worse poisons, and also fucken…. Potion of Makes Vampires?

legit, she can raise corpses into vampiric servants now. what *can't* this woman do.

escape from her sins, apparently

bc yes, this wouldn't be a Ravenloft book without horrible comeuppance, so Ilsabet is plagued with ghosts in the mists that are mysteriously growing ever thicker over this wretched year, seeping in through the windows and open doors and seeming to disorientate and confuse those lost within them, i wonder why that could be....

anyway Ilsabet's reign of terror slowly gains momentum until her son is born and she decides it's time to do her husband in finally and avenge her father's death. she intends the poison to be of the slow, intermittent variety to slowly sicken him over a period of months -- a genuinely horrifying prospect, actually! anyone who's dealt with environmental toxins or sudden onset food sensitivities knows how bad shit can get before you isolate the cause, and this is on purpose, with malicious intent

buuuut she misjudges the dose just a wee bit and ends up paralyzing the man instead. it's at this point Jorani decides enough is enough, and starts trying to reverse the paralysis in between Ilsabet's gloating sessions

too little too late my dude

things eventually come to a head as Peto's personal guards decide the place is mega cursed and try to get their king the fuck out of there, Ilsabet kills just so many ppl by contact poison, including Jorani, and the mists finally take the castle in the chaos.

so now her country is part of the dread domains, and Ilsabet is trapped in something of a personal time loop; every night she kills her husband in rage, and every morning he's alive again in his sickbed. no one seems to notice this, save Ilsabet, and she certainly doesn't appreciate the opportunity to have her revenge a hundred times over. guess she really got attached to making it stick.

overall its a hard book to make fun of! it's not as exciting as goth vampires and wizard kings, but honestly it's really well done for what it is, and it leans very satisfyingly into the horror of poisonings. if you're after more dramatic plots with magic n wars n shit this one might be a bit dull for you, but i find its paced really well to keep my interest, and i have a soft spot for vicious lil sadists

#church's ravenloft reviews #yea this one's pretty good actually #ya girl ilsabet is definitely an avatar of the web hghdf its manipulation and toxic influence all the way down

[swan-of-sunrise]

Spellbinding (Chapter Three-Part Two)

Summary: (Y/N)’s magical training with Loki begins, and she begins to evaluate her growing feelings for her best friend.

Pairing: Loki X Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: Hope you all enjoy!

Chapter Three (Part II) April 29th, 2015 Avengers Tower, New York City (Previous Chapter)

Over the next couple of weeks, Loki helped (Y/N) acclimate to her new and overwhelming role as an Avenger. He gave her tours of different parts of the tower, introduced her to several teammates she hadn’t met yet, and read with her in her room when she grew tired or was feeling too uncomfortable with all the attention. Whenever (Y/N) wasn’t with Loki, she was slowly getting to know the rest of the team. While she got along fairly well with all of them, she was the most comfortable around Steve and Bruce; She and Steve initially bonded over their mutual love of classic films and history books, and Bruce was always kind enough to invite her down to the lab for lunch whenever she wasn’t busy with Loki.

The only Avenger that (Y/N) couldn’t stand being around, however, was Iron Man himself. It was no secret that (Y/N) and Tony disliked each other; it turned out the Artificial Intelligence system named J.A.R.V.I.S. had caught their first interaction on camera and the other Avengers had gotten a hold of the recording; they thought it was hilarious that the self-proclaimed playboy had gotten a well-deserved talking-to and Tony fumed because it had somehow gotten leaked to the others. (Y/N) suspected that Loki had something to do with its release but whenever she mentioned it to him, he’d only flashed her a mischievous smile and changed the subject. Thankfully, whenever Tony wasn’t on a mission he was either busy in the lab or off overseeing Stark Industries, so (Y/N) didn’t see him around very often.

Once her prescribed two weeks of rest were up, (Y/N)’s magical training began. She, Loki and Thor gathered together in the tower’s gymnasium; now that she knew the brothers were Asgardian gods, it was amusing to see them dressed in ‘Midgardian’ workout clothes. And it’s official, she thought as she subtly examined her best friend and his hoodie-basketball shorts combination, Loki looks handsome in just about everything he wears.

“Magic is nothing without concentration, Lady (Y/N). You must focus completely on the task you’re trying to accomplish, or you risk failing and perhaps overexerting yourself.” Loki paced before her with his hands clasped behind his back as he spoke, looking every part the serious instructor.

Thor spoke up, “What did you feel when you used your magic on that Hydra agent?” Thor was only there to observe and occasionally offer advice, but (Y/N) had found herself comforted by the older Asgardian’s supportive presence.

(Y/N) thought back to the incident at the library. “Well, I remember seeing the man and thinking ‘He’s going to hurt us.’ Then, I sort of instinctively raised my hands and felt a tugging in the pit of my stomach; that’s when I pushed him back with the purple magic and fainted.”

“The reason you fainted was because although you had the proper concentration on your target, you didn’t have a clear thought about what to do to him, which caused you to use too much magic.” Loki explained patiently. “When performing magic, you must keep two things in mind: Object and intent. That way, you can control how much magic you use and keep it from exhausting or killing yourself.”

“All right, object and intent. Got it.” She nodded in acknowledgement. “And will I always have to use my hands to perform magic?”

Loki tilted his head thoughtfully and stopped pacing. “I’m not sure. Since very little is known about your particular brand of magic, you may be able to eventually use both your hands and your eyes. It will undoubtedly take a great deal of practice to even reach that level so for the time being, you’ll only try and use your hands. Now, let’s begin, shall we?” He looked around the room, his brow furrowing in concentration. “Thor, do you remember what Mother used when she first taught us levitation, before you stubbornly quit to train as a warrior?”

“Ah, you mean when you used your tricks to make an illusion of a troll chase me around the palace and I decided that magic wasn’t to my liking?” Thor chuckled as his younger brother shrugged innocently. “If I recall correctly, Mother had us begin by practicing on statues in the gardens. I don’t think that will work for a Midgardian beginner such as Lady (Y/N), though; they’re too heavy.”

(Y/N) pointed at the rack of weights across the room. “What about those?”

Smiling, Loki went over and came back with a ten-pound weight in his hand. “Brilliant, Lady (Y/N)!” He set the weight in front of her and backed away to stand next to Thor. “Try and levitate this. Remember, object and intent.”

“Okay,” She took a deep breath and raised her hands. Her eyes never left the weight as she willed it to obey her. Nothing happened. Frowning, she stared down the weight until she felt a familiar tugging sensation in the pit of her stomach; the weight was all the sudden surrounded by a purple glow, rising about a foot in the air before landing back on the ground with a dull thud. “I did it!”

“Well done!” Loki was beaming, a hint of pride in his green eyes. “This time, levitate it and see if you can’t move it in other directions…”

Hours later, (Y/N) was drenched in sweat and her body ached all over, but she’d progressed to controlling fifty-pound weights to move around the room; Loki decided to call it a day when he and Thor were nearly smacked in the head by a wayward dumbbell.

“I know it’s your turn to read aloud but I don’t mind taking over; you’ve worked hard today, after all.”

(Y/N), who was lying flat on her back on the ground, groaned. “Thank you, Loki, that would be great; I wouldn’t want to stumble over my words.” Over the past week, she and Loki had taken turns reading poetry aloud to one another; since he enjoyed reading A Midsummer Night’s Dream so much she’d introduced him to her leather-bound collection of famous poems, which he’d instantly taken to. “Why didn’t you two tell me magic was so tiring?”

Loki only chuckled from his seat on the workout bench beside her. “Don’t fret, Lady (Y/N), magic becomes nearly effortless after a while. I must say, though, you’re learning quickly for a beginner, it’s impressive.”

“Loki’s right, your magic is stronger than I could have ever expected, Lady (Y/N).” Thor spoke as he sat next to his brother. “And I know for a fact that it’s nearly impossible to impress him.” He nudged his brother’s shoulder with his own. “Perhaps she’ll impress you again when her magic surpasses yours one day, brother!”

“I have no problems with that, Thor, just as long as she promises to use her magic to bludgeon you with dumbbells whenever required.” That made them all laugh.

(Y/N) clambered to her feet and stretched her arms. “Well, I’m going to go take a quick shower before we read; I’ll meet you in your room in an hour, okay?” After turning to leave, she turned around to face the brothers, specifically the eldest of the two. “And Thor, if you even think about eating my snacks while I’m in the shower like last time, I promise that I’ll tell everyone about your secret stash of Pop-Tarts.” Thor gulped nervously as she shifted her gaze to the younger brother. “Could you please protect my snacks from him, Loki?”

Loki nodded, giving her a mock-bow and a grin. “I shall endeavor to guard your snacks from all who dare threaten them, my lady!”

“Oh, my hero!” Playing along with him, she clutched her chest and looked up at the ceiling dramatically, earning another laugh from both men. “See you soon…”

She left the gymnasium and as she walked down the hall, she heard Thor remark, “Well, brother, I can certainly see why you-Ow! That hurt!”

Behind all the pranks and insults they seem to care a lot for each other, she thought with a smile as she made her way to the elevator. She’d spent the past couple of weeks silently observing the brothers, and despite being slightly intimidated by him during their first meeting, she’d grown quite fond of Thor. And although he’d never admit it to her, she began to think that Loki was wary of living in Thor’s shadow, but she didn’t want to make him uncomfortable by prying. Pride filled her as she thought of his praise of her developing magical skills, and she couldn’t wait to learn more about her powers with him. Hopefully I won’t be as sore from now on, though, she thought with a wince when she stepped into the elevator and hurried off to enjoy a soothing shower.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A moment after she knocked, Loki opened his door of his suite with his usual grin. “Your snacks, my lady, kept safe from annoying oafs as promised.” He allowed her in and closed the door behind her before gesturing to his large sofa and coffee table piled high with food. “Make yourself comfortable.”

(Y/N) smiled and sat herself carefully on the cushions, sighing in satisfaction at how comfortable they felt to her still-aching muscles. His room was very similar to hers, except his had a distinct green and gold theme whereas hers was more lavender mixed with other pastels. “Thank you, Loki. I was wondering, have you ever tutored anyone else in magic before?”

He sat next to her, her leather-bound book in his hand. “Never. I’m simply attempting to channel everything my mother taught me about magic when I first began, though I’m afraid I’m not nearly as skilled as she is…”

“Well, I think you make a wonderful teacher!” Her pulse quickened when he smiled shyly at her compliment, so to distract herself she began nibbling on her granola bar. “Now, where did we stop yesterday?”

“Um…” Flicking through the pages, he found the page that was bookmarked. “Ah yes, ‘She Walks in Beauty.’” He cleared his throat and began reading aloud:

“She walks in beauty, like the night  Of cloudless climes and starry skies;  And all that’s best of dark and bright  Meet in her aspect and her eyes;  Thus mellowed to that tender light  Which heaven to gaudy day denies. 

One shade the more, one ray the less,  Had half impaired the nameless grace  Which waves in every raven tress,  Or softly lightens o’er her face;  Where thoughts serenely sweet express,  How pure, how dear their dwelling-place. 

And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,  So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,  The smiles that win, the tints that glow,  But tell of days in goodness spent,  A mind at peace with all below,  A heart whose love is innocent!”

(Y/N) sighed dreamily when he finished. “I’ve always thought that poem was brilliant. The way Lord Byron presents the woman’s beauty as a delicate balance between light and dark is so eloquent, and I love the conclusion he draws about inner and outer beauty living in harmony with one another. It’s very sweet how he describes this woman who he obviously has feelings for…” She trailed off when she noticed Loki smirking. “What?”

“Nothing, it’s just that you’ve proven a theory of mine correct.”

“And what theory would that be, exactly?” Crossing her arms, she raised an eyebrow at him and tried not to smile at his smug expression.

“That you, Lady (Y/N), are a hopeless romantic.” Loki grinned triumphantly as a blush spread over her cheeks. “I suspected as much when you recommended Pride and Prejudice to me all those weeks ago; though you claimed you enjoyed the novel for the witty banter and period drama, it was obvious that you also enjoyed it for the romantic plot between Elizabeth Bennet and Mister Darcy.”

Shrugging noncommittally, (Y/N) retorted, “All right, I’ll admit that I’m a hopeless romantic…just as soon as you do.” His green eyes widened in surprise. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you flicking through Much Ado About Nothing the other day, and when you were reading ‘She Walks in Beauty’ just now you couldn’t keep the goofy smile off your face.”

Loki’s stunned expression shifted as he gave her a lopsided grin. “I suppose you’re right, Lady (Y/N). Though if word of that got out it would ruin my reputation as a terrifying, all-powerful god, wouldn’t you say?” He leaned closer and jokingly stage-whispered, “I promise not to tell anyone your secret if you promise not to tell them mine. Agreed?”

“You’ve got yourself a deal, Loki.” She felt as if she were melting under his intense gaze, and it wasn’t until her eyes involuntarily flicked to his lips did she realize how close their faces were. Quickly pulling away, she fumbled with the hem of her peasant-top and trained her eyes on the book in his lap, fully aware that her face was reddening as she pushed her glasses back up her nose. “So, um, shall we continue?”

She heard him clear his throat and reply, “Yes, of course, um, right…” He hastily picked the book up and flipped the page, the sight of him licking his finger to do so only causing her blush to deepen. “All right: ‘I wandered lonely as a cloud…’”

As he continued to read poem after poem, (Y/N) replayed everything that had happened in her mind. She’d nearly thrown caution to the wind and kissed her best friend. Over their three months of friendship, the small crush she’d been harboring for the Asgardian had developed into something much larger and though she wasn’t sure if what she felt was love, since she’d never experienced it before, she knew that her strong feelings could jeopardize their friendship. Besides that, he was an Asgardian, practically a god, and she was just an ordinary Midgardian who just happened to have a Light Elf for a mother; there was absolutely no chance of him possibly returning her feelings so at that moment, she decided to try her hardest to repress them for both their sakes and the sake of their friendship.

But maybe I’ll let myself enjoy today, she thought, tentatively leaning her head on his shoulder and closing her eyes, reveling in the feeling of being so close to him. To her surprise, he reached around her shoulders and pulled her closer, leaving his arm wrapped tightly around her as he continued to read. His soothing musical voice combined with the warmth he radiated and his unique scent relaxed and lulled her to sleep, but not before she heard him flip back several pages and read, “‘She walks in beauty, like the night of cloudless climes and starry skies…’”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Thank you all so much for reading and commenting! In the text I included a link to a Youtube video of Tom Hiddleston reading ‘She Walks In Beauty,’ you should really give it a listen! I’ve also created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter. Enjoy!

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2wx8TZwpDN0l33tES3W3Nk

Chapter Four

Spellbinding Masterlist

Tagging: @nexiva @ravenclawbitch426 @cminr @confusedfandomwriter @momc95 @nickkie1129 @austynparksandpizza @brooke0297 @destructivebliss @outoftheregular @itscomplicatedx​ @0-artemis​ @vivloki​

#loki x reader #loki odinson x reader #loki laufeyson x reader #loki #loki odinson #thor odinson #marvel cinematic universe

[some-dr-writings]

Korekiyo and Nagito x SHSL Military General

Korekiyo Shinguji:

·       “Simply beautiful.” Korekiyo found himself saying those two words often around The Super High School Level Military General. Everything about such a person was simply so, how could anything else describe them.

·       At first he had heard the rumors of you, the strict, stone cold, military general whom had taken over their entire class. With a simple snap of the finger you’d summon your entire class, utter one word and they were already off obeying your coded command. Your every movement was stiff, yet effortless. Everything had a deliberate purpose, even a twitch of the nose. You had such control over everything and everyone around you, all bending to your will.

·       Kiyo was content simply observing you at a distance, and yet a part of him wanted to disturb your space, to know you better. Though from a single glance he could tell idle chit-chat was not something you’d partake in, so he was fine. What did surprise him though was you approaching him.

·       “I need your expertise.” “AH! Oh… It’s you.” He took a deep breath, placing a hand over his heart. “You startled me. I hadn’t even realized you had come in. How may I help you?” “Anthropology, you study human beings, their culture and traditions, the origins of those, that is what you do, correct?” “Indeed, it is.” In one swift movement you took off your hat, holding it over your chest before bowing. “Please teach me. The better I understand people, I may better understand my soldiers and our targets. I must learn all I can to make conflict end with minimal damage to all sides. I must learn how to form people into as powerful, independent, a team player, and dependable as they can be so that they may survive, even without my direct guidance. That is my sole goal in life, would you assist me in my endeavor?” “… Simply beautiful. I would love to help in any way I can.” And that was how you had begun to regularly meet with Kiyo and visit him in his lab.

·       Any and all stories Kiyo would tell you or any artifacts he’d show, you’d always take detailed notes, dissecting them in order to find the humanity behind such fables, find what compelled people to do what they did. Kiyo could not but help to notice how you did seem to have a preference for specific tales, ones of trickery such as Odin and his many escapades. It was not for the aspects of humanity it explored, you seemed to simply enjoy it for yourself, something… quite rare.

·       All you did was for others. That selfish love of being the one to protect others or bring them joy, that part of you reminded him so much of his classmate Kirumi, so much so, he introduced you two, thinking you could get along well together, and that he was right on. You and Kirumi instantly clicked, often meeting with one another, exchanging advice and stories. You allowed Kirumi to assist you when you were leading your classmates in study or work and even went out of your way to seek her out. You both did what you loved out of this, assisting others and leading them into becoming their best selves. Seeing such a friendship blossom was extraordinary, especially so between two amazing individuals such as yourselves.

·       You seemed to change a little after meeting Kirumi. You were still stark and quiet, rarely speaking, but on occasion he found you’d just sit beside him as he read or went about his own business, both keeping to yourselves while still keeping one another company. Soon though you became more direct. “Follow me.” And that he did, even keeping in time with your foot falls. Soon he found himself on the field where Kaito, Shuichi and Maki were as well. “Oh, Shinguji’s your new sidekick?” “…” “Alright then! Let’s get to training!” Every evening there after you had brought Korekiyo to those raining sessions, strictly making sure he improved every day. Then you also took him to watch Himiko’s magic shows, play tennis with Ryoma, whom Korekiyo thought would not play the sport again till he spotted you speaking with the man, of course a person like you could lead Ryoma back to his old passions. You got Kiyo to regularly spend time with just about everyone, one day he’d be playing piano with Kaeda as he discussed the history of the piece they were playing, the next you and he were in a week long prank war with Kokichi.

·       “Here.” Kiyo looked between you and the clothing you had passed to him, most notably those boots. “Be at the front gate of the school dressed in these in half an hour.” Without another word you simply left. When he got to the gate you simply walked away from him to follow. You went hiking. “Winded already?” “N-No… Just… catching my breath.” “I know you can do better, keep up.” You simply marched on as Kiyo tried keeping up. Eventually you had reached the top of the small mountain. “Ah, the city.” You could clearly see it, along with Hope’s Peak. “Keep up hiking. Seeing the greenery should be enough motivation to keep going.” “Oh, you won’t be joining me? I may forget, you know.” “You will not. I train all those under me to be independent and be able to survive without me.” “… So, you’re saying you won’t be around?” “…” You didn’t speak for a moment, your gaze unwavering from the city with your arms crossed. “All day every day you simply tended to your books and artifacts or watch others. You care not for your own health. That cannot do. I… I wish you to survive and have connections. And I certainly believe you wish to live to see the beauty of humanity firsthand. That you cannot do when dead or bed ridden from lack of caring for yourself. Even if introverted, humans are social creatures, so you need to speak with others on occasion on topics other than your passions. You must learn of others, how they see the world in order to connect. Because of you and Kirumi, and others… I’ve learned that making connections is so vital, even if it will hurt in the end, some connections are worth making.” Finally, you locked eyes with him. “My country calls for me, I must protect them, but I… I wish to see you in particular… See you… thrive. Experience the beauty of humanity firsthand, no longer be a bystander. Become unrecognizable when next we meet, become the greatest person you can. Do not die, and do not stagnate. Keep improving and learn what you taught me.”

·       “I see, you shall be leaving then…” “… Hmm? What’s the matter, it’s unlike you to become so down cast.” “I have? Well… I love you. You are the most amazing person I have met. I’ve taken advantage of our time together, and seeing it… Y/N?” You still so stoically stood there, but your entire face was flushed pink. “you… love me… I, y-you can go on, why did you stop?” He laughed. He laughed in that almost strange way only he did. His eyes were half lidded, and you saw the crow’s feet in the corners. He was so clearly, gently smiling, you felt as if your heart would beat right out of your chest from the mere sight of it. “Adorable.” “I…” That blush only darkened and darkened, as you had instinctively taken a step back, fearing being so vulnerable in the moment, yet… liking it also. You… you never allowed yourself to be vulnerable like this, or at least so rarely did, you had almost forgotten the feelings. You buried your face into your hands. Kiyo simply took your hands into his own, gently leading them down so he could see that slightly wobbly smile, and the red that so elegantly dusted your cheeks.

·       Not even a week later and you disappeared as if you had never even attended the school. Despite the years that had passed Korekiyo made sure to stay connected too his high school classmates. Kiyo had taken to traveling with Rantaro who was searching for his sisters, Shuichi who was putting his detective skills to use in searching for them, and Kirumi who acted as Shuichi personal maid believing with the right assistance he could become a truly amazing person. They were a rather fun group to travel with. In the evenings when time permitted, he and Shuichi would do some exercises and reminisce on the training they had done in high school. Any time they found themselves in your home country, Kiyo couldn’t help but wonder how you were the whole time. Kiyo and Rantaro would often chat through the night when in your country, Rantaro of his sisters and Kiyo of you. They also spoke of the travels they had taken before high school. Being with them… it was simply amazing, and Kiyo was eternally thankful for all you had done for him, and he was the determined to not disappoint your expectations for when you’d meet next… you just had to meet again.

    Nagito Komaede:

·       Many were confused to see the Super High School Level Military General always hanging around Nagito; you never spoke with him, you didn’t even seem to like him, you were just always near him, even when he left campus you still followed him. Eventually rumors had begun sprouting up that the pair of you were in a relationship of some sort, but even that didn’t make sense. If any asked, you never said a word. Some asked Nagito but even he didn’t know, he just accepted the fact that you were around now.

·       “… Weapon, I can hold my tongue back no longer.” You spoke! Nagito was amazed! In your following him around, you had also dragged him around so that you could do your own work and though that Nagito saw your command in action over and over again, but with your gaze locked to his own, that sharp voice resonating deep within himself… the experience was unlike any other. “Am I to see you as human, or a weapon, I do not know any longer.” “Oh? A weapon?” “Yes, a weapon.”

·       Nagito felt his breath getting caught in his throat, his heart pounding against his rib-cage in a steady pace, like a taiko drum. It were as if his other senses had gone numb, they existed only for you, your intimidatingly kind visage, your solid unwavering voice, even touch, he could only feel the barest, slightest bit of your body heat. There was only you… So, THIS was the power of the Super High School Level Military General. No wonder all listened and heeded your every last breath.

·       “Clearly you hold no self-worth, always calling yourself ‘trash’, always doing everything you’re told by others you see as superior, us ‘Ultimates, beacons of hope’ as you’d phrase it. You have no drive or ambition other than pleasing ones you see as great… That…” You simply stared at him for a moment, you just didn’t move at all. “… I find myself compelled, compelled to take you under my wing, get you to see yourself for how truly amazing you are, and yet I too fear that. If you gain personhood, you would become the most dangerous weapon the world has ever known. You don’t just have luck, you can influence it and predict it to an extent. If you gained self-worth and ambition and decided to use your talent you could destroy the world single handedly. If you wanted too, and yet you are also just as dangerous in your current state. In this state you’d willingly go along with any and all who’d wish to use you as the weapon you are, and with no substantial will of your own, you would be used without fuss and all the while not worry about any destruction you’d cause, believing hope would overcome any despair or tragedy no matter how great. So… to attempt to give you will so you’d be less likely to be manipulated by others, or leave you as you are so you grow no ambition of your own. That is what I cannot decided. As I see you now, I know not what you think, if you gained any ambition what you could possibly want. My goal in life is to protect everyone, even my enemies, and you… You are the greatest threat I have ever met. Your ‘luck’… the travesty it could cause is worse than any atomic weapon I know of and I must be rid of you.” “… It sounds like you could solve this by killing me. Nobody could use me than and I wouldn’t be able to want to use my luck.” Many would find it strange just how matter-of-factly Nagito had stated that, and yet, being around him for so long you were not surprised.

·       What… what happened? Nothing about you had changed, and if you had, it was so subtle Nagito did not notice. He was terrified. Something in him screamed to run and hide, yet he was frozen. “Life is never to be weighed lightly. From the tinniest flea to the smartest and biggest whale. Life is never to be spoken of, let alone treated of so flippantly. Even that of your most despised and hated of enemies… At times, death is the only option, but if there are others that exist, they must be taken into account. Life… Life is the weightiest thing in existence. Never underestimate the impact the death of any single creature can have on everything. All life matters, even yours, though you yet to see it. You may deny it but heed my words. You matter. You matter more than you can ever realize. So, should there be a way to defuse the catastrophe that is laying dormant, only building more the longer you exist, I WILL find out how.” That terror that entrapped him faded and he felt as if he were gasping for breath after almost drowning. “You, I yet know what to do with, but for now we shall be retiring to my room so I may go through with planning.”

·       Then you turned and walked away. Nagito followed, in aw and amazement at you! You were truly a force to be reckoned with, simply astonishing! Though he didn’t believe he deserved it, if you saw fit to exchange so many words with him, he was truly honored. And he could not wait to see what decision you’d come too; he was quite looking forward to see what you were going to do to him.

·       “I need more data. I can not come to a conclusion. We shall proceed as we have before.” Despite saying that, things were never quite the same after that day. You would talk to him on occasion. Not much, but those brief exchanges were captivating none the less. Nagito became your assistant of sorts, keeping count as you did pushups or other exercises, or tidying up and cleaning so you could focus on more important things such as training yourself or others, perhaps even cooking or bringing you food so you didn’t have to interrupt that mental exercise you were trying out. Always being around you, he was kind of forced to pick up some of your habits in order to keep up, like trying to keep pace on your morning jogs. It became a sort of challenge for you to protect Nagito from his bad luck. You tried your damnest to stop the chaotic results no matter how small, whether it affected others or not.

·       Despite how Nagito always went on and on about how he was trash, you were impressed with how smart and capable he was, even going over military strategies with him. This quickly spread to other things. You started playing board games, seeing if your strategizing could out do the boy’s good luck, even playing luck-based games to challenge yourself into finding some strategy, even if it were underhanded. No matter what you tried though, Nagito was unflappable, much like yourself. Playing games with him became your favorite pastime- TRAINING! It was training… not for fun. Though relaxing is important, so plaything with him served a dual purpose… yeah, th-that’s it.

·       It was late spring on the cusp of summer. “Hey! Y/N! That’s thirty laps!” You waded in the water for a moment, catching your breath before allowing the crashing waves to push you to shore. As the gulls cawed you marched up the shore across the reds, purples, and oranges of the setting sun behind you so beautifully reflecting off the sand. There Nagito stood, a towel draped over his arm, a small bowl of ice cream in each hand. “A small burst of energy before I can get you a more calorie rich meal. “… I thank you.” Nagito simply passed you a bowl before patting your face with the towel, then wrapping it around you… Sometimes he wondered if you always had that light blush on your cheeks. He had been with you for so long, it was difficult to separate how you looked back when you first had met to now. He thought he’d remember, but he just wasn’t quite sure. Though he found himself deliberating on this because it seemed that blush was spreading… “Something the matter Boy? You’ve been staring for a while, and just… kind of holding the towel over my shoulders.” “a-ah! So, I have! I, I deeply and sincerely apologize. I just love yoooooouuuuu-” Oh no. “Your face! I love your face!... So much!” Internally Nagito was screaming about how he just let that slip out despite how he just so calmly smiled like this was an everyday occurrence. Truly, he was a mess of a person. “Y-you too?” Then you squeaked, realizing what you just said. And there you both just stood starting at one another. “Dinner, we’re supposed to get dinn… dinner…” “Y/N?” “Boy, how long have we been dating?” “Huh?” “We’ve been inseparable, and… we do more than train like watch movies an… stuff, so…” You then just walked away. “W-wait, Y/N!” “I can’t speak, I’m eating ice cream!”

·       Even after years the pair of you were still inseparable. The only time you seemed to be apart was when you went to war, but no matter the distance or trials you faced, you’d always return to him. As for Nagito… he thought this was for the best, after all, you were a humanitarian, if realistically possibly you’d protect life, so a person as dangerous as himself always under the watch of someone so amazingly strong… always protected by you from the world and even himself… the thought sent his heart a flight.

#korekiyo shinguji #nagito komaeda #korekiyo x reader #nagito x reader #Mod Gundham #danganronpa #danganronpa 2 #Super Danganronpa 2 #danganronpa2 #danganronpa v3 #danganronpav3 #New Danganronpa V3 #danganronpa imagine #danganronpa imagines #danganronpa 2 imagine #danganronpa 2 imagines #danganronpa v3 imagines #danganronpa v3 imagine #dr imagine #dr imagines #dr 2 imagine #dr 2 imagines #dr v3 imagine #dr v3 imagines #danganronpa x reader

[lemonmeringueprincess]

The Mind of  a Broken Soldier (Leave Me Be, Chapter 2 )

Hello People of Tumblr ! It’s ya girl Hazel ! I am back again with another chapter which i am 100% sure NOBODY request it because nobody requested this story in the first place but i’m still continuing it because i feel like it. I was planning on continuing this story and give sly nods to WandaVision and The Falcon and The Winter Soldier here and there along the way. Not in this chapter but... maybe on future chapters. But I’ll see how this one goes and where my idea leads me to.

So you need to read Chapter 1 to be able to understand this chapter properly because this chapter is solely Bucky’s point of view of the reader and some random thoughts. I love reading novels and love their style of writing hence i aspire to write a decent and proper story fanfiction. I mean when you read some books, there will be several chapters viewed from that other characters’ perspective so i decided to implement that style to my story. 

So once again, thank you so much if you decided to pop by, read it and love it. Don’t be shy to pop by my message box to share some ideas you have or maybe you just wanna vibe together, I’d love to do that with you guys too. But please please please don’t be mean if you don’t like it. FYI, this chapter is slightly shorter than the first chapter. Love, Hazel .

Disclaimer: No disclaimer or any warnings. But definitely do me and yourself a favour and check out Chapter 1 so you can properly comprehend this chapter with ease :) 

Characters : Bucky x Reader; teeny weeny mention of Sam :)

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“Look man, I know we don’t really see eye to eye but I call to check on her…How’s she doin’?” Sam heaved a sigh of empathy from across the line.

I tightened my grip upon the thin, slick and smooth communication tool which now known as smartphone that I hadn’t had the chance to acquaint with. I let out a sigh of desperation, desperate of ways to haul her from the rabbit hole she’s now falling into. My fingers combing through my unruly long hair that’s bundled up in a disheveled bun. A bad habit of mine when I’m in desperation and anxiety.

“It’s been a week since Steve walked out from her life and if I’m being honest, Sam, she’s not doing very well. She’s…she’s been nestled up in her room since then.” I heaved another sigh of despair, my right human arm gripping the kitchen counter tightly in effort to prop myself while the other man-made hand still latched onto the phone.

“I even had to force feed her just to keep her alive for god sake.” I asserted whilst rubbing my right eye with the heel of my right human hand and quietly strutting towards her door. Leaning my side against the stark beige wooden door, plopping my ear against it to silently eavesdrop, just like how I had done countless times to check on her well-being without having to barge into the door. Soft whimper gradually shifted into muffled sobs. I closed my eyes, let my head hung low as if my neck was already tired enough to brace the weight of obstacles and desperation that merge into one and let out a long exhale.

“Gotta go, Sam… I’ll call you back.” I lowered my voice into mutter and hung up.

Even though I had known Steve for so many years, sometimes I still couldn’t decipher what’s in head. Recalling back to the 40s, way before he and I even considered enlisted into the army, women would always prefer me over Steve to take me out as their dancing partner when we’re at the bar. I felt bad for him and he’d sometimes complained that if only there’s the one out there who would see him through his frail and tiny stature. Seventy three years later, he abandoned the woman who’s been through with him through thick and thin, put up with his stupid decisions and god knows what more for eight years, for Peggy.

The woman whom he knew for only two years and only dated briefly.

The woman whom he’d share his infatuation and obsession with.

The woman he met at the army who didn’t even spare him a glance…not until after he’s gone through physical changes then eventually decided to give him a chance.

I wouldn’t even consider that as official if they only exchange flirting and longing glances at the office…

bar… 

and even Howard Stark’s Lab.

Clasping my hand upon the door handle, I levered it down and pushed open the door generating soft creaking from the hinge. I tiptoed my way in and left the door ajar. There she was… dressed down in only white camisole and panties while curled up in a fetal position upon the bed which was a bit too spacious now for a single person. Her back facing towards me, shoulders quivering from muffling her own sobs into whimper. 

Oh Steve… what have you done…

I slowly crept my way towards her and slowly sank myself on the bed. I was hesitant to lay next to her but I tried to push that thought away considering her mental health was already at stake. If I left her untended, she might eventually spiraled into deep depression and she’s already halfway there. So I laid next to her, draped my arm over her frail, delicate and small body to hold her close as if sheltering her from her own whirlpool of emotions . While offering her the comfort of silence, my mind wander off to how on earth Wanda dealt with her own grief… poor kid not only lost her significant other but also her twin brother and parents as I was informed by Sam. My train of thought was halted when I heard her croaked a rhetorical question, 

“H-h-he’s not coming back, is he? Did that prick even try second guessing his decisions?”

I wish I could do more than being her shoulder to cry on and dragging Steve back by the ear. That punk really took all the stupid with him. I contemplated whether I should say something decent to comfort and lift her spirit but I retracted. “I’m sorry, Doll… “ Were the only words I could muster from my still-healing disrupted mind. After Hydra’s infamous torturous events and being sent away to Wakanda to get my mind fixed. I found that I had difficulties of expressing my thought and feelings emotionally from the years of being over-electrocuted and memory-wiped conducted by Hydra, more strenuous than my old self. Not that I couldn’t do it but I realized it took more time to do so.

But even so I still try to rack my brain, dig deeper to find something nice to say; to make myself feel a tad better for at least doing something good in my life for once after the horrendous past, to at least counteract all those gruesome dirty work I unconsciously did to the others.

“I tried talking some sense into him, but he was very adamant of his decision. That punk…I’m really sorry…” i tried to string those words together carefully, worried that one step further or slight wrong move might set the fire ablaze even more. At this point, I was scared considering I had never connected to women emotionally. Sure I’d dated many women back in the 40s, but never considered them seriously… Now I know how it felt to wear their shoes, to know how it felt to be ditched and forgotten, even though I didn’t experience it firsthand.

Running out of options and words to say, I scooted closer whilst tightened my embrace and inhaling her scent, a hint of fresh bed linen and lavender; Steve hates it when women used too much perfume to the point it’s suffocating. I remember he’d always complained about the atrocious penetrating smell of perfume whenever we walked past the women at the bar.

“Doll… tell me what to do… I can’t bear seeing you breaking apart like this and I am running out of ways to numb your pain…” I consoled.

I used to be a good pep talker, a great one even; constantly spewing encouragement and lending a piece of advice or two to Steve. But I guess I had to shift my roles and be the good listener instead.

I did not expect her to open her heart and confide everything, as if she was confessing everything to me. I could only fervently listen to her anguish secrets that had been tormenting and keeping her awake. I felt really bad for the insecurity and self- doubt she had to endure these past years. Constant comparison with Peggy and doubting herself; nevertheless, she still fought her way to prove her worth… such strenuous and tenacious effort just to keep Steve’s attention to her…

Oh Steve… if only you’re in my position now, you’d know how much effort it took for her to keep up with your fantasy. They said love is full of sacrifices but not as much sacrifice from one side, both sides needed to make equal sacrifices to make things work, if one sacrifices too much, they’d weaken because they’re giving out too much and eventually died, just like her.

I knew Steve was always oblivious with things, but never as horrid as this. My heart sympathized and mourned for her. Eight years of relationship that she fought so hard to keep slipped out of her hands just like that.

“I-i-i-it h-h-h-urts, Buck… it hurts…He’s my first love, first kiss and…”

I felt her body shook under my embrace. No longer able to withstand her emotional suffer, I tried to soothe and lull her to sleep.

“I know, Doll. But I promise you’ll get through it, I promise to be with you every step of the way. We will get through it. I am not going anywhere. I am not going to walk out this door, not until you kick me out because you’re so sick of looking at my face. You have my word, Doll. I am staying.” I promised.

I promised myself I’d be there to pick up the pieces regardless of any circumstances, because it’s the right thing to do. I’d be there to hoist her up when no one else could. i’m doing what a good friend would do... It’s the right thing to do … Right? 

#bucky x reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x female reader #bucky x original female character #bucky x oc #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan x ofc #sebastian stan x #bucky x #the avengers #the winter solider imagine #the winter soldier x reader #the winter solider x reader #the winter soldier fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #chris evans x y/n #andy barber x reader

[lov3nerdstuff]

Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 7.15}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 4.5k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

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When the door fell closed again and Robin was left standing in the hallway by herself, in her pajamas, she sighed to herself. What a way to start a birthday… But then again, a part of her (an unsurprisingly large one) was also quite excited to have a very good reason to go find Snape once more. Not that she planned on staying longer than necessary, but the prospect of seeing him at all brought a smile to her lips and thus she started making her way towards the office. Still in her pajamas, much to her discontent. Not that she minded Snape seeing her in flannels and her Queen shirt at this point, he'd had that pleasure far too often already to pay mind to it by now, and it was rather the act of walking through the castle in her pajamas that she wasn't too fond of. But it was in the middle of the night, which made it unlikely that anyone would even see her at all. Thus she made her way out of the common room and through the dark hallways until she arrived in front of the office, where she unlocked the door only to find the room behind it dark and empty. Odd… didn't he still have those essays to grade for Monday? After checking the classroom as well and finding it in the same state, she went to the lab next, but it also proved to be vacant. He can't seriously have chosen this one instance to actually listen to her suggestion of going to bed early, can he? Insufferable idiot… but it wasn't his fault that she was trying to save his arse from some pathetic prank.

Robin groaned under her breath, putting her head into her neck for a moment before she made her way back down the hallway and towards where she believed his private chambers to be. It honestly wasn't too difficult a task to find the right place once she actually tried to, and before long she found herself in a hallway she had never been in before. It literally only had one single door going off to the side, and that made matters rather easy for her. As she stood there, trying to decide if she should knock or speak, she couldn't help wondering what the professors' rooms looked like in the castle in general, and Snape's room in particular. Certainly it was more spacious, and probably a lot more comfortable than the dorms as well. Would it have the same dusty and gloomy aesthetic as his house back in England? But then again, he spent way more time up here, he had said so himself… so his rooms here might just as well look entirely different.

Shaking her head to herself to put an end to her useless string of thoughts, she finally decided to knock. Three times, certain, and firmly as always. Generic as it could be. It took a few seconds but then she could hear movement, and finally the door was ripped open with a force that had her taking a step backwards instinctively. As soon as his dark eyes fell onto Robin however, the scowl on his face was gone in an instant and his entire demeanour changed from sheer furor and annoyance to question and concern.

"Robin! What-..." He started in mild surprise, but cut himself off after a second as he took in her appearance, then glimpsed down either side of the hallway, and finally just pulled her into the room before shutting the door behind them again.

Of course Robin's heart wouldn't miss the opportunity to start racing again, and for a moment she allowed herself to inspect the room she now found herself in. It was similar to his house, and yet entirely different in a way. First her eyes were drawn to a fireplace with a sofa in front of it, as it was the brightest spot in the room, lit up and tinted in a faint orange glow. The walls around it were lined with shelves, filled with books and quite a few other things actually, which she didn't have the time to inspect right now. But there was a small table with two chairs along one of those walls, hiding some of the books and objects from her vision, and she allowed her eyes to linger there for a moment only, before the next curiosity caught her attention. On two walls there were surprisingly large windows for a room in the dungeons, which could only mean that they must be in one of the corners of the castle that were facing the cliffside instead of the black lake… There was no water behind the glass, after all, unlike the common room on the other side of the dungeons. Robin frowned for a second as she thought; she didn't know a single other room down here with a windowed corner. Obviously being the only professor who lived in the dungeons had its perks; he got the very best room of them all. Honestly, she wouldn't even be surprised if he had the nicest room of all the professors. So her eyes wandered on, over the large desk which was even more meticulously organised than the one in the office, and over the wall of ceiling-high shelves that separated the room and shielded off the far right corner. Her gaze fell onto a four-poster bed that looked much like the students' ones, but about double the size, with the softest looking duvet she had ever seen, and dark green sheets that seemed almost black in the candlelight… she quickly looked away before she had the time to blush. Geez, it was just a bloody piece of furniture; get a grip, idiot! As she averted her eyes, she also saw a closed door other than the one to the hallway, and she simply assumed that it would lead to a private bathroom. Finally when she had roughly taken everything in, her eyes returned to Snape only to find him observing her in obvious amusement already.

"Are you done with the inspection?" He asked with one raised eyebrow, and now Robin did feel the heat creeping up her neck after all. Thank god it was quite dimly lit in here.

"Not nearly. But that will have to wait until a later point in time." She replied honestly, despite being called out for her undeniable curiosity.

"What brings you here then? Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm perfectly fine… I thought you would still be in the office, to be honest. I didn't think you would actually take my advice about getting some sleep."

"I do take advice, occasionally, but only when nobody can tell that I do." He replied almost easily, and Robin had to smile in return. "But I would still feel a lot better if I knew what brings you here."

"It's nothing of any gravity, really… But it couldn't wait until morning."

"Building suspense as always, are we?" He quipped, and motioned to the sofa, before sitting down himself. Robin followed the example, and crossed her legs beneath her like she always did. For some reason, she felt no less comfortable being here now than she was in the lab or the office. All three rooms were very much Snape, in their neatness and calm and familiarity, and perhaps that was the reason why she loved either of them so much.

"Yes, no suspense, I'm sorry." She said as she shook her head to herself again, and finally started explaining. "I'm here because tomorrow morning some kids want to put salt into your coffee."

For a moment, there was silence. Then Snape started laughing, actually laughing, and Robin didn't know if she should laugh too, feel offended, or stare in awe. Either would have been an appropriate reaction, and since her brain couldn't settle for one, she did all three at once, which must've looked odd enough for him to stop laughing at last. Instead, he looked at her with a small smile now, which Robin still couldn't really put much meaning to. Why was this so amusing to him? He hated these things, all those imbeciles and their childish jokes… usually, at least.

"I don't understand what's funny about it." She decided to voice her thoughts at last. "I spent an hour being mad about it and trying to find a way to prevent it from happening, and you just… laugh?"

"I can see how that seems unreasonable, yes." He replied, and his amusement now toned down a bit. "Believe me, I wasn't laughing at you. Neither about the issue itself."

"Then what's so funny?"

"For one, I'm simply relieved that you are only here about a practical joke, and not about another situation that might end with you being hurt. Then of course there is the absurdity of the entire situation… I hadn't imagined that it would be salt in my coffee that would bring you to my room for the first time."

"But you did imagine what exactly would?" She quirked an eyebrow at him with a smirk, deciding that humour would be a better way to deal with his words than turning into a flustered mess again would be. He probably hadn't meant anything by it in the first place. But still, for a moment, she was sure to see an actual blush on his cheeks for once, a faintest tint of crimson, but it might as well have been the light of the candles, a mere shadow. It made her heart skip a beat nonetheless.

"Tell me more about that practical joke." He said a moment later, not even trying to hide the fact that he wasn't answering her question. "How did you come to know of it?"

Robin sighed, and did them both the favour of ignoring the previous conversation indeed. "I don't know much… Some sixth year by the name of Parker planned it with his friends. They're going to put salt into all the drinks for the head table in general, and obviously everyone finds it hilarious. Cas heard from Simon, and she told Jorien and me about it just an hour ago. But no matter how stupid of a predicament that puts me into, I couldn't let it happen without telling you. To save your morning, at least."

"I imagine you wouldn't want me to put an end to it then, before the disaster ensues… That would certainly reveal your involvement."

"I would appreciate it if you didn't. I know it's probably a stupid situation for you too, to know and not tell your-..."

"I don't particularly care, actually." He shrugged, with an almost humoured expression once again. "I will certainly undo the damage before enjoying my own coffee, but my colleagues' fates are their own. And I wouldn't put your relationship with your roommates at risk over something as imbecile as this."

"Thank you! Really, I appreciate it. But I have another favor to ask of you, one that's not entirely my own." Robin replied with an apologetic expression. "Can you please tell McGonagall about it too, before breakfast? And ask her not to spoil it either? I know, that's going to be incredibly hard, but it is really important to me."

"I certainly will tell her if you'd like me to. However I am curious to know why your mixed sentiments for her seem to have changed enough to warrant such concern about her now."

"They haven't changed at all… It's about Jorien. She wants McGonagall spared, but can't reveal it as her own intention for various reasons, so I told her I would do what I can."

"And why don't you simply tell her yourself like you are telling me now?"

"Well, I don't think McGonagall would've been happy to find me in front of her door at this time of night." Robin said with a humoured smile, then had to snort. "Especially not in my pajamas."

"Indeed, I don't think she's particularly fond of Queen." He mused, and Robin had to laugh even more at his tone. "If your apparel is the problem, you could have warned both her and me in the morning. Not that I would dare to complain, but why did you choose to do it now instead?"

"Finding you in the morning was my plan, originally, but I was made aware that I won't be able to. I was just about to go to sleep actually, hence the pajamas, when Jorien told me that I wouldn't get a minute to myself before breakfast because of some plans they have made for my birthday, and-..."

"What time is it?" He asked and his voice was suddenly rid of every humour at all, as was his face.

"Eh… around one thirty at night, I think? Perhaps two already?" Robin frowned at him, in confusion about the sudden question and abrupt change in his demeanor. "Why? Is something wrong? I mean, I know I probably shouldn't be here at this time of night and all that, but-..."

"Then it is your birthday already…" The edge was gone from his tone immediately, leaving only a quiet statement with a tinge of sadness.

"Yeah, it is. What's wrong with that?" She asked in return, her expression a mirror of his own right until he got up from the couch and made for the other side of the room without a word. Robin's heart squeezed together for a second, then she jumped up as well, out of sheer nervousness, but stayed standing between the sofa and the fireplace, feeling lost as her eyes followed him through the room. Had she done something wrong? Or said the wrong thing, perhaps?

Snape merely picked what looked like a piece of paper out of a stack of documents on his desk, then returned to Robin without any ado. Her eyes didn't leave him once, but only met his at last when he stood in front of her again. All the small tells of emotion on his face showed guilt, a hint of annoyance perhaps, both directed entirely at himself as it seemed.

"I tend to forget about time and such trifles when I am in your company. I apologise for the delay." He said after a few seconds, then held out the paper to Robin, an envelope that once again had his own name written on it. "Happy birthday, Robin."

The nervousness that had churned her guts seconds before was replaced by a soaring wave of warm adoration with a start, at both his words and the fact that all he had been upset about was forgetting to congratulate her. If he wanted it true or not, that was incredibly sweet. In Robin's eyes at least. With a smile she yet again had to tone down a little, she took the envelope from him, but instead of opening it right away, she merely held his gaze.

"Thank you. And don't worry, time is entirely irrelevant to me; I am happy that you remembered at all." She said sincerely, still in a fight with herself to not reveal too much of her own adoration. "If it wasn't for the entire 'celebrating into the day' thing, I probably would've only remembered that it's my birthday tomorrow morning."

"You will have to tell me more about what your roommates have put you through, but first I would like you to open that envelope. I meant to give it to you at the end of the day, but seeing as you are here right now, the beginning of the day will be just fine as well."

"Alright…" Robin said, and she couldn't help her curiosity for much longer anyway. Thus she turned the letter in her hands, inspecting the already broken seal with a smile, a frown and a huff. "The letter is from the ministry…"

"Obviously."

She rolled her eyes with a smile, but then finally tugged out the two sheets of paper from the envelope, and unfolded the first. For a minute, she read over the letter that was indeed addressed to Snape, and almost as expected, she didn't understand a word of it. It was signed with a name she had never heard before, but the subtitle said that he was representing the department of admissions. A title as generic as the name itself. Other than that, the letter mainly stated that Snape's request had been accepted and processed thanks to the aforementioned reasons (which unfortunately weren't stated, but surely would've given Robin a hint about what this entire thing was about), and that the ministry would keep an eye on the issue nonetheless. After reading it twice and being left no wiser, Robin took a look at the second page.

To her great surprise, this one had her own name on it, and it looked a lot more like the official document she had received from the ministry after successfully completing the apparition class last term. Her frown deepened as she scanned every word and number on the form that looked more like a license almost, if the standardised look of it was anything to go by… it certainly would explain why the letter came from the department of admissions. But other than her name, a few numbers and the current date, the twentieth, she didn't get too much information from it either. Entirely confused now, she looked back up at Snape who had carefully observed her while she had been reading.

"I would love to tell you I'm happy about the gift, but I have absolutely no idea what any of this is about. I don't even know if it's a gift or a warning or a death sentence." She started with a helpless chuckle, sounding almost as lost as she felt. "Perhaps we could skip the part where you roll your eyes and make me guess for once, for the sake or my birthday. Please?"

"It's not precisely a gift in common terms." He explained, and thereby complied with her request without mention. Robin didn't fail to notice though how mildly uncomfortable he looked, and she wondered if it was about the subject itself, or the mere fact that he was finally admitting to giving her something like a gift at least. "It is a solution to a problem you have. Or rather one that you had, until now."

"Who's the one building suspense now?" Robin smirked at him, to which he merely let out a huff that was supposed to cover up his own not-smirk. It didn't work, and he probably knew, so he went on to explain.

"I do realise that I had no right to solve this problem for you, and I also know that you never made a problem of it in the first place." He said, which made matters no less mysterious at all. "But I know that it has been burdening you for a while now, and I had to put an end to it. Try to, at least. So what I did was to write to the ministry and request for you to be given a certain and admittedly quite rare professional authorisation that allows you to handle certain substances that are subject to permission."

"I… which… what?"

"Perhaps we should approach the matter from a different perspective that is less… political. You obviously are aware that the objects we have gathered over the summer, the subjects of the theories in your handbook, all share one essential attribute: they are rare, some even extremely rare, and therefore very valuable. Yes?"

"Yes."

"And you see how that correlates to the horrendously high prices one has to pay for them in any shop that sells ingredients for potions."

"...yes?"

"Now, the reason why these objects are more often sold on the black market than in any reputable establishment is quite simple. The vast majority of rare objects and ingredients, and thereby almost all of the ones in your handbook, are subject to permission, which means that without a permit from the ministry, you aren't allowed to sell them. This leads to the problem that most shops are generally short of these ingredients, seeing as the ministry rarely gives out such a permit, which in return makes the ingredients even more expensive. These issues can be evaded by selling on the black market, which however almost always results in selling under value to sell at all."

"I understand. But why doesn't the ministry want to give more people such a permit? Wouldn't that make things a lot easier?" Robin frowned, and she felt like the biggest idiot ever, with a large knot in her brain. She knew she was missing something very obvious, but she just couldn't tell what it was.

"Imagine what would happen if every idiot was going after these ingredients for the mere sake of selling them. Not only would most of them die before they even reach their goal, but there would be thousands of people roaming through both worlds and destroying everything in their wake for the mere sake of making money off these objects. The ministry can't risk that, and therefore they are very selective about those who they grant this permit to. They wouldn't give it to me when I tried a few years ago." Snape said, then motioned to the papers still clutched in Robin's hands. "But they gave it to you. People have known your name ever since the first conference you attended; important people who have enough influence to see to it that my request was accepted."

"But… what… I…" Her brain was completely out of it for a moment, until she gave herself a mental slap. "I only research rare ingredients because I love doing it, and I gather them for you and me to work with… But I've never thought about selling them before."

"I know. Your passion for the work we do, the work you do, will always be your highest priority, but that doesn't contradict selling what you don't need for yourself." He stated, then sighed while the subtle discomfort returned to his expression. "Even a mere handful of the wraiths' moss from last year's excursion would suffice to make a small fortune. I know you have been concerned about how to make a living without your parents' support for a while now. This is the solution. A possible one, at least."

For a moment then, the weirdest thing happened; Robin's mind was entirely blank. A mere white noise of too much to process, too many thoughts tumbling over one another while each was too briefly existent to be grasped. So she just stood there, papers still clutched in her hands, and stared at Snape with wide eyes and parted lips. Frozen in space and time.

"Breathe." He reminded her then, with an expression so uncertain it seemed almost uncharacteristic, and Robin did breathe indeed. Once, twice, thrice… then her mind exploded into a colourful variety of emotions, and she finally snapped out of her freeze only to throw her arms around Snape an instant later, hugging him as tightly as if her life depended on it. If he wanted it or not. He didn't have a say in this, not right now.

"Thank you…" Robin breathed as soon as she wasn't entirely choked up anymore, and she couldn't even bring herself to care that the tears that were running down her cheeks now were drenching his linen shirt. "Thank you thank you thank you."

His arms wound around her in return almost instinctively, pulling her closer and keeping her steady as she stood on her tiptoes. But when he spoke up, his voice was quiet, sad almost. "What did I do wrong this time?"

"What? You did nothing wrong!"

"But you are crying, which usually is a direct result of whatever matter I have screwed up this time."

"I'm happy, you dunderhead!" Robin couldn't help laughing through her tears, and her arms around him tightened even more. He really was no better at closer human interactions than she was, and it was relieving to see sometimes. "Happy, and overwhelmed. Positively! This is so much more than just a birthday present to me… You really did save my butt yet again."

"Nonsense… I did nothing more than to write a letter to the right person, asking the right questions. It hardly is a gift at all. I didn't even have to pay for it." He replied in tangible defensiveness to being thanked, but Robin wouldn't let him get away with it this time.

"Didn't you tell me two or three years ago that caring for someone extends beyond the material?" She asked while the tears slowly dried out, leaving her voice muffled by his shoulder rather than emotion, and finally the overwhelmed feeling made way for sheer happiness. "This is the best possible example of it. It might only look like a piece of paper, but it's so much more to me. It shows that you know me, know me so well that you don't even have to ask to know what's on my mind. It means that you willingly dealt with people you despise, because I know just how much you hate ministry officials, and writing to them in a nice enough way to get them to do something for you can't have been easy. And foremost, the fact that you didn't just give me a gift, but actually thought of a bloody brilliant solution to an incredibly important problem for me tells me just how much you actually care. If you want to admit it or not."

"You haven't the slightest idea just how much I actually care." He replied under his breath, and it sent a deep shiver through Robin, one which obviously was noticeable enough for him to follow it up by lightly tracing up and down her spine with his fingers. Bloody hell, she could've died right on the spot from the sheer emotional intensity of this alone.

"You're getting better at showing me." She finally made herself reply, in a voice way too breathy to be anywhere near appropriate, but it didn't matter in that moment. Not when her mind had enough trouble keeping her from doing something incredibly stupid.

"May I ask you something you might find rather odd?" He spoke up a few seconds later, and his hand stilled on her back, splayed out so that his fingertips brushed her sides.

"Don't you always?" Robin chuckled softly. "You can ask and say anything at all, you know that. Odd isn't a thing between us anymore." The question he did ask then, however, she had not seen coming at all.

______________________________

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[mulderist]

Wicked Game

Previous chapter || Read on A03 || tagging @today-in-fic

CHAPTER 9

Hegal Place

Alexandria, VA

My footfalls echoed down the hallway as I approached the front door. With a firm push it swung open and I descended the short brick staircase to the sidewalk. I surveyed the familiar rowhomes across the street; small front yards bordered by thin wrought iron fences. A small child was being led by the hand down the steps of one brownstone. I waited for the kid and her mother to walk up the block then I chose the opposite direction. An older model Packard chugged down the otherwise quiet street, coughing an exhaust smoke signal as it passed. That driver should probably see his mechanic sooner rather than later.

As I walked I felt my holster sticking into my right ribs, suppose that’s what I get for hastily slipping it on. It was enough of an annoyance to force me to focus on the task at hand; finding Alex Krycek. The steady afternoon breeze brought in clouds but not enough to predict rain. I still had a few hours before sunset and wished for a drier evening than my previous outing. I sighed and hoped Scully found herself a cab.

A dog bark caught my attention and I saw an excited yellow Labrador happily wagging a tail at an average looking man. As I moved to get a better view I saw the dog connected to a leash being held by a young woman. The average man gave the dog a gentle pat on the head and must have felt my stare because he straightened up and let the woman and her furry companion pass by. I knew it was him by the way he watched the woman walk away. Krycek slipped his hands into his pockets and stood firm on the spot. I ran through a dozen different scenarios of how I would approach him; close-quarters-combat, a strong right hook, or a simple shot to the leg. I honestly didn’t want to draw too much attention. The challenge was having a conversation without sounding like two territorial alleycats. Right as I finished my thought, Krycek took off around the corner.

I swore to myself and tightly gripped the butt of my gun as I followed in pursuit. A footrace was certainly not where I wanted this to go. My lungs burned while my feet pounded against the sidewalk, a stern reminder that I needed to resume my visits to the campus track. There was a flash of a jacket down what I assumed was an alleyway. I slowed my pace and found a proper hold on my gun. I pressed against the brick wall, careful to hide my position until the right moment. Like so many times before I took a deep inhale and with the exhale I glanced around the corner. I ducked back to avoid Krycek’s fist, then I charged forward pushing him farther into the alley. He stumbled and tried a quick jab to my stomach. I tightened up right as he made contact and in return I let my gun give him a kiss on the cheek. Krycek doubled over and spat on the ground. With both hands I grabbed him by the shirt I tossed him against the wall, the tip of my Browning wedged into his abdomen.

“You know as well as I do that a bullet to the gut is a slow way to go,” I said with my left arm braced across his chest, “So you better talk.”

“Well that’s a fine how-do-you-do,” Krycek grumbled with a crimson smile. I quickly frisked him, found his Walther and relieved him of it. I pressed my weapon back into his stomach then said,

“A little birdie told me you were at Washington General earlier today.”

“Is that so?” he mumbled.

“Cut the shit, Krycek,” I responded, applying more pressure to his chest, inching my forearm closer to his throat. He choked out a laugh,

“The redhead! Ah Mulder you sure can pick ‘em.”

“Leave her out of this!” My gun pressed harder into the soft surface of his abdomen. I saw him wince and I twisted my hand hoping I found a nerve,

“Damnit,” he hissed, “I only gave her some friendly advice.”

“Stay away from her,” I growled. He shook his head disapprovingly with a limited range of movement.

“Oh now I get it. You’re sweet on her, aren’t you --ah! -- jesus!” His assumption was cut short thanks in part to my weapon stabbing him in between the ribs. I cocked my gun and felt my jaw clench as he struggled.

“Red got herself involved when she worked on that autopsy,” Krycek sputtered.

I eased up a bit, put the hammer back down but still held my aim.

“What do you mean? Who was the stiff?” I asked, uncertain if I was going to get a truthful answer. He swallowed and licked his lips.

“A nobody by all accounts.”

“Then what’s the big deal?” I shrugged and felt like this was starting to become a waste of my time.

“The body wasn’t disposed of properly. He never should have ended up at the hospital morgue.”

Finally, some clarity. It’s as though the sea of confusion was at low tide, revealing an answer like shells on the shore. I witnessed it myself that night at the Navy Yard. They thought the cabbie would just float downriver and disappear. Now they wanted to cover their tracks as soon as that body washed up near the marina. Scully was just doing her job in the wrong place at the wrong time. Scully. I had to get back to the precinct.

“Are we done, Mulder?” Krycek asked, breaking my concentration. My attention snapped back as he was fixing his shirt.

“Not quite,” I said as I tentatively put my gun back in the holster, “I want to know one other thing; tell me your connection to Spender.”

“Spender?” Krycek’s voice was now hampered with a slur, “God, I am so tired of hearing that name.”

“Talk.”

“It’s like I told you before,” he gestured, “Spender was a hophead. Got a taste of the stuff when he was investigating Vincenti. Do you remember that tip I sold you about four months ago? Turns out your partner wanted to have a private meeting with Vincenti’s second in command. Detective Spender dealt himself right into the drug game on the government’s dime.”

“How the hell do you know that?”

“Because,” Krycek coughed out, “Carlo Lodi told me.”

My mind worked like playing cards being shuffled, each revelation waterfalled onto another until the deck was stacked.

“You told Lodi to put the hit on Spender,” I said pointedly.

“I’m a snitch,” he stated a little too simply for my taste. “Frankly I had had enough of being the information errand boy, so I sold him out. Your partner thought he could muscle in on Vincenti’s pushers and try to expand the trade routes, so to speak. The elder Spender got wise and to keep things kosher with Vincenti and his boys, he ordered a hit.”

“Wait a minute. Did you say Spender’s father?”

“Who do you think helps keep the peace?” he replied rhetorically. I thought for a moment and chided myself for not seeing far enough up the ladder.

“Whose side are you on, Krycek?”

“My own,” he curtly answered, “I don’t care if the mob kills the whole lot of you.”

“As long as you get box seats to the show,” I said. He chuckled and spit a trail of red once again onto the pavement. There wasn’t much more I could add. No more interrogation to give. I returned his Walther and left the alley.

------

After a less than ideal cab ride, I arrived at the precinct and bypassed the front desk, heading straight for the stairwell. As I descended the steps I tried to think of how I would untangle this web I found myself in. I never fully trusted Krycek, apparently Spender did. The new information was swirling in my head and I needed to pin down the facts before I approached Skinner. But first I needed to talk to Frohike and the boys.

The door to their department was ajar, sending a quick surge of adrenaline to my chest. I pushed the door open further and entered the lab, relieved when I saw Langley flipping through a thick-bound book.

“You guys should really put a lock on that door,” I began, “never know what’ll wander in here.”

He chuckled and quipped that instead I should have a bell around my neck so they’d know when I was coming. I asked if Scully had arrived and he directed me around the corner where I practically bowled over Frohike, who clutched a blanket to his chest. I raised an eyebrow.

“I uh -- this was for our guest,” Frohike said softly. I reached over and he relinquished it, then I gave him a hearty pat on the shoulder. Scully was curled into the threadbare sofa, she looked exhausted. It surprised me to see an actual piece of furniture in the lab, though I’m sure they needed something other than an army cot for those overnight cases. I unfolded the blanket and gently laid it over her sleeping frame. The sudden weight caused Scully to stir, eyelashes fluttered against the makeshift pillow of her hand. I crouched down and heard a hum escape her lips.

“Glad you made it,” she said with eyes still closed.

“True to my word,” I replied. She turned her head away from her hand and slowly blinked open her eyes.

“Did you find him?”

“I did. We had a friendly chat and a smoke.”

“What actually happened?” she asked, voice heavy with sleep.

“He took a swing at me and I shoved him into an alley; he won’t bother you again. As it turns out, my former informant has his finger in just about every dish on the crime buffet.” I tried to adjust the blanket which had slipped down her shoulder but her arm snaked out, fingers pressed tenderly against my forearm.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

“Rest for a little bit. I’ll be back,” I left her with a kiss on the forehead then went to round up the boys.

Langley passed by and I gestured for him and Frohike to join me, moving towards the exam tables on the opposite side of the lab. Byers suddenly emerged from the front door with a binder in hand and I waved him over as he muttered something about a body coming in for autopsy.

“Mulder you look like something’s on your mind,” Frohike said.

“Krycek was the one who confronted Scully at the hospital,” I relayed, “After twisting some truth out of him, he told me the body she did an autopsy on should never have been found. He can’t be trusted.”

“What are you going to do?” asked Langley, scratching at a blonde temple.

“I need to give a report to Skinner, he needs to know it was Krycek that put the hit out on Spender.”

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph it was all true,” Byers exclaimed as he folded his arms.

“We still need to find out who killed Lodi and his henchman,” I said, running a hand over my neck, “It had to come from whoever is at the top of the food chain.”

“Do you think Krycek could actually be pulling the strings? I mean he’s basically been lying to you from the start,” Frohike countered, pushing the bridge of his glasses back up his nose. I nearly laughed aloud but thought long and hard at the potential of Krycek being a crime boss. It would be a hell of a curve ball to try and take a swing at. Langley, Byers, and Frohike exchanged looks as I continued to ponder the question.

“No,” I said, “but I appreciate the creativity. He isn’t loyal to either the DCPD or Vincenti’s mafia family. The profile I’ve developed is that he’s a man who would just like to sit back and watch the city burn.”

The shrill sound of a telephone ring interrupted our conversation. It continued until Frohike broke away to answer it. I heard him agree with the party on the other line, then he shot a glance in my direction. He nodded then quickly hung up.

“The Captain must have a sixth sense or have a bug somewhere down here,” Frohike said as he walked back over.

“I certainly hope we’re not bugged,” Byers responded with a quick look up at the ceiling.

“He wants me upstairs?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“Double time,” quipped Frohike. I rolled my shoulders and as I turned to leave I heard a new voice say,

“Leaving so soon.”

The boys seemed to scatter, save for Frohike who was glued to the spot when Scully stepped into the main area of the lab. Her stark white nurse uniform fit a little too perfectly amongst the shelves of science and macabre medical arts. She approached me and Frohike got the hint, trying to busy himself with tidying up the counter behind him.

“The boss is requesting my presence,” I told her, “And I’ve got a few things I’d like to say to him as well.”

“Is there anything I can do?” she asked, a look of concern in her eyes, “I could give a statement about what happened.”

“Sorry Scully, this invite is for a party of one.”

“Are you coming back?”

“Planned on it, unless they burn me at the stake.”

“So dramatic,” she shook her head and reached for my hand with slender fingers. With a quick squeeze she added, “As much as you hate to hear this, I’m involved now. I don’t want to sit on the sidelines. Let me help where I can.”

I saw Byers timidly approach out of the corner of my eye.

“Excuse me Miss Scully,” he said with a kind wave, “there is a body due to arrive for an autopsy if you’d like to observe.”

“I’m sure we could use her assistance,” Frohike piped up, “that is, if she wouldn’t mind.”

I tried to think of a jab but she silenced me. She gave a pleasant smile in their direction then leaned a little closer, the faint scent of her perfume hit my senses.

“Go. Don’t want to keep the boss waiting.”

I got caught in her blue eyes, only able to manage a simple nod of agreement. My hand slipped from hers and I left the quiet of the forensic lab, bracing myself for the roar of the bullpen and Captain Skinner.

#i wrote this #historical au #xf fanfic #mulder pov #my fic #noir fiction #hey look an update #xfiles

[pennamesmith]

Romeo and Skeletor

Double Trouble needs dating advice. The Super Pal Trio is here to help. More Skeletor stories! 

*

“Remember,” Wrong Hordak recited, “recovery comes from connection!”

Several hands went up. Most belonged to clones. This was a common and welcome sight in Wrong Hordak’s Ex-Horde Therapy Group.

“And no,” Wrong Hordak continued, anticipating everyone’s question, “that does not necessarily mean romantic connection, or even connection with another sentient being. It means that in order to heal our traumas, we must be a part of the world around us, and acknowledge the world as a part of us.”

Most of the hands went down. Thoughtful murmurs rippled through the crowd. It was the end of another day of helping and healing. With a few more words of wisdom Wrong Hordak closed the meeting, and the assembled members began to stand and make their way out of the room. Most seemed sanguine and cheerful, but one stayed seated and watched the others wearily.

Double Trouble was the group’s newest and most skeptical member. They were trying, they really were, but it wasn’t easy. A lifetime of artful deception did not exactly lend itself to sharing or emotional honesty.

They had their reasons for being there, though.

Wrong Hordak, effervescent as ever, looked over and winked. “Another successful session, my most exalted paramour!” he told Double Trouble proudly. “Now then, I must consult with Perfuma about the itinerary for next week’s field trip to Mystacor. But tonight, I hope you are prepared to be dazzled by my famous quiche!” He beamed brightly.

Double Trouble worked very hard to maintain a calm expression while their stomach did acrobatic flip-flops. “My breath is bated, darling,” they finally managed, before scurrying off to the other side of the room.

The thespian cursed, internally. It should not be this difficult for a shapeshifter to hide a blush.

Closer to the door, Hordak was showing Adora something on a data pad. Double Trouble wended a wide circle around them, even as Adora gasped in surprise and began babbling what certainly seemed like juicy gossip. They simply weren’t in the mood.

Outside, Catra, Scorpia, and Entrapta were strolling away together, while the scorpion princess spoke excitedly about something called ‘Super Pal Trio Game Night.’ Double Trouble pricked their ears — this, perhaps, was a more promising prospect for their problem.

They took a step forward, and were immediately interrupted.

“Where do you think you’re going, hmm?”

Besides Perfuma, Wrong Hordak’s other assistant for his therapy group was ‘Skeletor,’ one of Entrapta’s eccentric bots. Once, he had been a part of Horde Prime’s drone army. Now, he had a nasally voice, a talent for self improvement, and a puppy.

The puppy’s name was Relay.

“How’s this for a surprise?” Skeletor said, holding Relay and patting the robotic canine gently on the head. “I’m considering putting him on a leash!”

“That’s very nice dear, but you’ll have to excuse me,” Double Trouble deflected. “I’ve got issues right now.” They began to move past the skinny robot, before a thought occurred to them.

“Actually, you might be able to help me out with something. Tell me, how do you feel about aiding and abetting identity fraud? I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Mehehehehe! Just like the old days!” Skeletor cackled. “All right, you’ve got yourself a deal! What’s your plan?”

*

Shadows Over Salineas was going swimmingly.

It wasn’t really a game night, more of a game afternoon, but that hadn’t stopped Scorpia from bringing a tower of boxes into Entrapta’s Bright Moon lab. An entire world of cardboard and plastic was spread out before the three women.

“I am going to finish this Sword of Protection quest!” Catra angrily declared as she moved her game piece back and forth. “No matter how long it takes!”

“Okay, but the Evil Horde already has a lot of points at the Princess Alliance table,” Entrapta cautioned, gesturing to another part of the board. “Plus they’ve got a lot of tanks in front of the castle.”

“Anyone want to help me battle the Laughing Dragon?” Scorpia spoke up from behind a clawful of cards. “I’m gonna —”

She was cut short as the laboratory door suddenly opened and Skeletor slouched inside, wearing a miserable expression.

“This is the worst day of my life!” Skeletor moaned, flopping bodily across the table. Game pieces flew in every direction and clattered on the floor. The other three exchanged nervous glances.

Catra tossed her cards aside. “Well, I guess this is what we’re doing now. What’s the matter, boneface?”

“You’ve got to help me!” Skeletor blubbered. “When are you goody-goody fools going to understand? I care for no-one and no-one cares for me!” He shook his fists and produced a rose tied to a card covered in cartoony hearts.

Scorpia tilted her head. “Is that a flower?”

“It is a flower!” Skeletor howled. “The bitter rose! From a secret admirer.” He clutched it to his chest lovingly.

“Seriously?” Catra floundered. “Does somebody actually have a crush on that goof?”

“I know it sounds strange,” Skeletor retorted. “Never mind that!”

Entrapta rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “So, to be clear. You’re happy about getting the rose?”

“Yes, I am!” Skeletor shouted.

“But it’s a problem because…?”

“I live to be bad!” Skeletor whined. “How else can I act when I’m surrounded by such fools?” The robot swooned again. “Nice? Doesn’t sound like much fun to me! Yuck! What a disgusting idea!”

“Oh, I get it!” Entrapta grinned. “Skeletor needs us to teach him about love!”

Scorpia’s eyes sparkled. “A Super Pal Trio rescue mission? For love? I accept without any further questions!”

“Wait, wait,” Catra protested. “Stop. No. None of this makes any sense. Entrapta, is this another one of your secret friendship experiments?”

“Nuh-uh,” the scientist shook her head. “But... it is unexpected. Skeletor, are you sure you’re feeling all right?”

Skeletor looked uncomfortable. “Certainly! Um… Tell me about the loneliness of good! Is it equal to the loneliness of evil?”

Entrapta seemed suspicious. “Hang on,” she said, peering more closely at Skeletor. “Something isn’t quite right here.”

At that moment, Skeletor walked into the room, again. This time he was holding Relay and a fresh armload of barbarian romance novels.

“I can’t do it,” he admitted with an apologetic shrug, sheepishly handing back the books. “And, I do not look like you.”

“Oh phoo. I went too far, didn’t I?” the other Skeletor sighed, in a completely different voice. “I knew this wasn’t going to work.”

In a flash of dark light, Skeletor morphed into a decidedly more reptilian shape. Double Trouble huffed and tossed their hair back. “Well, that was different, at least. I’ve never done a robot before!” They paused. “Not in that sense, anyway.”

Catra started out of her chair. “What are you doing here?” she demanded.

“Just what I said.” Double Trouble sat back down on the table and nonchalantly studied their nails. “I need advice. Romantic advice. And since you three are all half of some of the oddest couples on the planet, I thought I might start here.”

“Okay,” Entrapta said, already beginning to take notes. “But you’ve come to me for that before. Why the disguise?”

Double Trouble looked away and muttered something.

“What was that?”

“I said it’s because I was embarrassed, all right?” Double Trouble crossed their arms and pouted. “This is not something I usually need help with. I’m supposed to be the one who’s cool and in control. I’m Double Trouble! But now I keep feeling things! In my mind, and my body! Making my guts act all weird, and my brain stop working, and… gah!”

“Those are called emotions, Dee Tee,” Catra deadpanned.

“Plus, you and Wrong Hordak have been going steady for a while now,” Scorpia added. “What’s the matter? Oh no! Have you lost… the spark?” She gasped, claws to her face.

“Just the opposite. Wrongie is perfect! He’s always in a good mood, he always wants to spend time with me, he always knows the right thing to say, and he’s just so darn cute! All the time!” Double Trouble’s face sank. “And sooner or later he’s going to realize that I’m not perfect, and it’s all just an act.”

“You don’t have to be perfect,” Entrapta pointed out, looking up from her notes.

“This is just like what happens in Romeo and Julian!” Double Trouble wailed, ignoring her.

“What?” asked Skeletor.

Double Trouble sniffled. “It’s a play. Someone in the Bright Moon army wrote it and it’s been getting rave reviews in all the theatre magazines — oh, but that’s not important! We’re talking about me!” The lizard flailed their hands helplessly. “What I mean is, it’s like we’re from two different worlds!”

“What, Horde World and Etheria?” Scorpia guessed.

“I’m thinking more Innocent Baby World and Cynical Opportunist World,” Catra cut in.

“Hey!” Double Trouble snapped. “I am not a cynic! Anymore!”

They turned to Scorpia. “But I can still make it work! I just need more research. Your girlfriend is all about this self-care nonsense. How do you deal with that?”

Scorpia got a dreamy look in her eyes. “Yeah, Perfuma’s pretty great. She’s kind, and patient with me, and she knows all kinds of meditation stuff, which is good because hey, funny story, it turns out I’ve actually got a lot of pent-up anxiety from —”

“Ugh! Useless! Next!” Double Trouble pointed to Entrapta. “You! Space bats. How do they even work?”

“Good question! I could share some of my research on Hordak with you,” Entrapta suggested. “It’s more of a hobby though, so I’ve only got a few terabytes of data. Did you know their species has an entire sub-language of ear movements? It’s fascinating!”

Double Trouble paled. “Um. Do you have an abridged version, or…?”

“Look,” Catra interrupted. “I think you’re coming at this the wrong way. First off, you can’t control what other people do or feel.”

Double Trouble narrowed their eyes. “That’s a bit rich coming from you, kitten.”

“I have been doing a lot of self-reflection the last few years, okay?” Catra growled back. “And trust me, trying to be the coolest, the strongest, the best? It doesn’t work.”

She looked across at Entrapta and Scorpia, and fiddled with the wedding ring on her finger. “Sooner or later you have to show your real self. Even if that’s uncomfortable. You can’t connect with someone that way until you’re willing to be weak in front of them.”

Double Trouble regarded Catra for a long time while their face registered a range of unreadable emotions.

“Fine,” they finally groaned, defeated. “But can you at least help me think of something nice to do for our dinner tonight?”

Catra smiled. Entrapta and Scorpia squeaked in excitement.

“For that, you’ll need my help!” said Skeletor. “I’ve longed for this moment!”

*

Wrong Hordak looked up brightly from his cooking. “You are here! Come in, come in!” He swept Double Trouble up in an enormous hug.

The lizard blushed and did not try to hide it. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world, darling.” With a flourish they revealed a rose and a box of distinctively tiny chocolates, which Wrong Hordak accepted gleefully.

“Now then, why don’t I stand back and let you impress me for a while?”

Wrong Hordak glowed with excitement.

“Impressive?” Skeletor said, somewhere far away. “You boob, it was spectacular!”

#spop #spop fanfic #skeletor #double trouble #wrong hordak #wrong trouble #catra #entrapta #scorpia #super pal trio #DT had everyone fooled until they quoted Skeletor from the live-action movie instead of the 80s cartoons #Romeo and Julian was written by General Juliet #it's a romantic comedy and everyone lives

[jumpship90]

Into the Multiverse!

“You can’t get any kind of connection with the lab?”

“Negative, Captain. Dr Welles’ terminal is not accepting transmission requests.”

Jaq swore under their breath. They really could have done with Phineas’ advice on this one.

One minute they’d been shuttling replacement parts for a generator down to the New Hope Centre, the next, they’d been thrown completely off course by a phenomena they had never encountered before. Since passing through the . . . what had ADA called it? Portal? Anomaly? Jaq wasn’t rightly sure what it was but the important point was their systems had gone haywire ever since they had been sent hurtling through, every alarm the Unreliable had (including a few they’d been previously unaware of) screaming at them until Parvati had gotten things under control. All was quiet now and that worried Jaq more.

They stared out the cockpit window at the ship before them – a mirror image of their own – and tapped their fingers against the arm of the captain’s chair, picking at the edge of the frayed leather.

“And you’re reading life forms aboard the . . . other Unreliable?”

“Correct, Captain.”

Was this some sort of trap? Another attempt by the deposed former Board members to undermine the new government in the system? Or something else? Something stranger?

“Transmission inbound. It appears to be from an alternate autonomous-digital-astrogator.”

ADA’s pixelated brows had disappeared upwards in surprise on the terminal. Jaq suspected their own expression was similar.

“Patch it through, ADA.”

There was a moment’s pause as the connection was secured and then a woman’s voice filled the cockpit, steady and authoritative.

“Am I speaking with the Captain of the Unreliable?” she asked.

“Correct,” Jaq replied, curiosity warring with caution. “And you are?”

Static crackled in the air and Jaq rubbed the back of their neck where their hair stood on end.

“I too, am the Captain of the Unreliable. My Unreliable, that is.” The voice sounded thoughtful now and tinged with what might have been excitement. “It would appear you and your crew have crossed into this Universe via a temporal rift.”

Right. Obviously. That made total sense, Jaq thought. They narrowed their eyes at the ship opposite, searching for . . . they weren’t really sure what. Markings from a mercenary group maybe? Or something off, something to mark it out as hostile. It really did appear, in every way, to be exactly the same as their own.

“You suspect a trap?” the unknown woman asked.

“Wouldn’t you?”

The alternate Captain hummed. “A reasonable assumption, to be certain, but not correct in this case, Captain . . ?”

“Evenshaw,” Jaq offered. “Captain Jaq Evenshaw.” There didn’t seem any risk in giving their name. It carried a little weight after all – or it did in their own universe at least, and if this woman was to be believed then that seemed unlikely to be the case here.

“And I am Captain Aethel Fiori de DeSoto,” she returned.

DeSoto? Was this some long-lost relative of Max’s? Well, at least that didn’t sound like the name of any Board loyalists Jaq had come across.

“Have you encountered the concept of the multiverse before, Captain Evenshaw?”

“Uhh . . .” It sounded like something Phineas might have mentioned once or twice but they couldn’t say they understood it.

“Not to worry,” the other captain offered and Jaq found her voice strangely reassuring. “If you are willing to meet – and I believe it may be mutually beneficial for us to do so – then I will do my best to explain. Though, it might be best, Captain Evenshaw, if you came alone. I think it would be prudent to avoid our two crews making contact.”

 * * *

Jaq waited for the hiss of the airlock doors opening, their nerves tingling in anticipation. Their hands felt empty without the weight of a rifle but they had agreed to come unarmed. They tightened the strap on their body armour just for something to do.

“I believe you are making a grave mistake, Captain,” Max had said as they’d prepared to leave the safety of their own ship, and for once, even Felix hadn’t argued with him. Under other circumstances, Jaq would have been inclined to agree with the vicar, walking alone and unarmed into unknown territory wasn’t the brightest plan, nor the most strategically sound, but there was something about the tone of the other captain that set them at ease.

Still, Jaq was wary when they stepped through into the uncannily familiar confines of the alternate Unreliable.

“Aah, it’s you.”

Jaq froze just beyond the threshold of the airlock, taking in the striking woman before them. Her dark skin was framed by white hair and Jaq found themselves staring back into golden eyes that regarded them with curiosity.  She stood a little over their own height, graceful limbed and with the confidently controlled posture that Jaq recognised as being that of a fellow soldier. They frowned and weighed her up, searching for any sign of hostility in those startling eyes.

“How nice to put a name to face,” Captain Fiori de DeSoto continued. “Or one of them, at least.”

Jaq’s confusion must have shone through their attempts to guard their expression as she offered a reassuring smile. “All will be explained. Please, accompany me somewhere we might speak more freely.”

With that she stood aside, welcoming them aboard the Unreliable. As Jaq stepped in, they thought they caught sight of a curious pair of eyes watching them from the hold before the figure skittered away. They followed Fiori de DeSoto up the stairs to the captain’s cabin, their hand hanging loose at their side, fingers just within reach of where their holster should have been.

“Tea?” the Captain asked upon entering the room.

Jaq nodded, staring about them, taking in the décor. This was the first real difference they had noted since boarding. Where their room was adorned with tossball posters, photographs and hastily scribbled to-do lists, this space was, though still distinctly homely, perhaps neater and more ordered. Jaq spotted the same drinks trolley that sat in their room, but rather than holding bottles of zero-gee and abandoned electronics, it was adorned with crystal and glass that appeared handmade, and there were stacks of books about the room that would not have looked out of place in Max’s cabin.

“Here.”

When they turned, Captain Fiori de DeSoto was offering them a cup of fine china painted with intricate patterns, the sweet smell of trip-teaze drifting from it. Jaq accepted it with a grateful smile. They’d seen enough to just about convince them there was no risk here, or, at least, not if they extended the Captain the same courtesy she had shown them.

“Now then,” the Captain said, taking a seat on the edge of her bunk. “Shall we talk?”

 * * *

“So, you’re telling me I’m in one of an infinite number of alternate universes?”

Aethel nodded. “That’s right.” She’d been patient in explaining the concept of the multiverse, fielding Jaq’s questions without hesitation or any hint of frustration as they struggled to wrap their head around what was happening. Admittedly, they’d found accepting the idea they had slipped into another dimension a little easier than that Aethel was married to the vicar. . .

“And in this Universe, I – I mean the other me – is still in stasis aboard the Hope?”

“Most likely,” she replied. “Or perhaps you never boarded the Hope. We could not say without checking the personnel records. Anything is possible.”

Jaq fiddled with the empty tea cup before setting it down cautiously atop the polished surface of the desk beside the captain’s terminal.

“Of course, it would be best if you did not have contact with the other you,” Aethel continued with the same casual authority with which she had bestowed all her knowledge throughout their conversation. “Who knows what might happen should that occur. This reality could splinter at the anomaly of two Jaqs occupying the same space. Or you might become trapped here.”

Jaq had no reason to doubt her knowledge on the subject. They grimaced at the thought. It was probably best not to break time and space as they knew it if it could be avoided.

“Phin’s not going to believe this,” they muttered. They weren’t sure they’d be able to remember half of what Aethel had explained. They’d have to ask her to write it down for them so they could provide him with a full report.

“Phin?” Aethel seemed to turn the word over in her mouth for a moment, weighing it up. “You are referring to Dr Phineas Welles, I presume?”

Jaq gave a wary nod and realised they were running a thumb over the band of black ink etched into the skin of their finger. Out of habit, the ring itself sat safe in their pocket on its chain, in case of the need for sudden violence. It had been an unnecessary act in this incidence.

They noted Aethel’s gaze following the movement of their thumb. “Ahh, I see,” she intoned, an amused smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. Jaq slipped their hand in their pocket.

“And you would like to return to Dr Welles?”

“As soon as possible.” And without inducing some sort of tear in the fabric of the universe, preferably.

Aethel cast them a warm look full of understanding. “Well then, let’s see what I can do to assist with that.”

Thank you to @autonomous-digital-astrogator for organising this exchange.

@jackalgirl I hope I got some way towards capturing the wonderful complexity of Aethel’s character. I’ve really enjoyed getting to know her and can’t wait to read more of her story. 

#captain aethel #captain jaq #tow captain exchange #the captain of the unreliable

[tmntgirlie]

Saviors in a Half Shell 4

Ah, the plan. The plan to help Y/N, the plan specifically created and constructed to assist Y/N. The Y/N Plan.

Splinter was, as usual, the first to wake up.

He loved his sons dearly, but he also loved the quiet he had when he woke up before them. Once at least one was awake, he knew he would be forced to socialize, step into his fatherly role (not that he didn’t love it, but everybody needs a break from time to time), give advice that only a rat father could. Especially right now, he knew that all four of his sons were nervous about their roles. It was warranted.

It was the ripe time of almost noon. He decided it was about time to make his first cup of tea for the day. Tea was always a pleasant beginning.

As the kettle began to head up, he heard a rustling near the doorway. “Leonardo, you’re awake early-” he began to say, but stopped when he saw who it really was.

Y/N stood, rubbing her eyes. Her hair was a little bit all over the place, something dark shaded under her eyes. “I’m so sorry, what was your name again?”

“You may call me Splinter, my dear. What are you doing up so early?” he asked warily.

“I don’t usually sleep this late,” the girl said, covering her mouth when she yawned. “I’ll take it that last night wasn’t really a dream.”

Splinter quietly added a little more water and tea leaves to the kettle. “You would be correct. Did you sleep well?”

“For someone that doesn’t like sleeping anywhere but my own bed, I’d say so.” She gave him a small smile. “Thank you.”

“What for?”

“Welcoming me into your home,” Y/N said with a shrug. “A stranger, giving me a safe place to sleep.”

“We help those who are in need of help,” he told her, leaning against the makeshift countertop. “You were not in a good place last night. Would you agree?”

Y/N nodded silently.

“I won’t pry into your personal health,” he said. “But I’d like you to know that we can be here for you if you want us. My sons aren’t like anybody else. They may be rough around the edges, but they have good hearts. They want to help you just like I do.”

He poured two cups of tea and gestured for them to continue their conversation elsewhere. She followed him down a few more narrow hallways, carefully holding her cup to keep it from spilling. He pushed back a few curtains to reveal a greenhouse of sorts. It was warm, the air was moist, and the room was filled with potted plants, flowers, and what she thought were herbs of sorts.

“It’s amazing,” she said quietly. “I never thought these kinds of things were even possible down here. You live down here. It’s amazing.”

“We made do with what is available to us,” Splinter said with a small smile. “This is all we have ever known.”

“How did you- you know, come to be?” Y/N asked.

The question he was waiting for.

“As you probably could have guessed,” he chuckled. “We aren’t your typical rat and turtles. Years ago, we were subjects in an experiment to create a substance that could withstand a harsh environment.” He spared her the nitty gritty details, it was likely too early for that.

“One night, a fire erupted in the lab. We managed to escape, though at the time we were still seen as the ordinary rat and four turtles. As years went by, we grew into what we are. It has been twenty-two long years. I took the role as both father and master of the turtles. It wasn’t easy, but it needed to be done.”

“That’s amazing,” she repeated, a little more enthusiastic this time. “You could write a book about this.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “I’m afraid not. You see, we aren’t accepted by the general population of this city. A select few humans have actually had the pleasure of seeing us for who we are and not what we look like. You are now one of them.” Splinter carefully sat his cup of tea down on a bare crate. He picked up a watering can and began to get to work.

“Need any help?”

“I enjoy doing this myself, but the company is appreciated. If you have any more questions, I’m sure my sons would be happy to explain their life stories to you.”

Y/N searched her mind for their names. It had been so late, the events of the night prior were blurry. She remembered their faces. Each wore a different colored mask. They were all so different, so unique- what were their names?

“Dad, I can’t find-” A voice rang through the greenhouse-room. She instantly recognized it, the first voice she heard. The first one she remembered.

Y/N turned to see who she instantly recognized as Leonardo, Leo. It had just dawned on her that their names were in reference to Renaissance painters. She’d have to ask about that later.

The turtle stopped. “Oh. There you are.”

She waved awkwardly. “Here I am.” She gave him a small smile.

Yeah, okay. These guys were freakishly huge turtles. Who were extremely muscular, bore weapons draped over their shells and at their sides. Sure. But they were her rescuers. She was comfortable with using that word now.

Leonardo noticeably relaxed. “You’re up early.”

“It’s almost noon. I usually wake up before eight,” she said. “...Thank you.”

He tilted his head. “What?”

“Thank you. For last night. I know it was… Not the greatest way to meet you guys, or for you to meet me.” Her gaze shifted down to her feet. “I just have some… Issues. That I need to work through.”

Leonardo turned to his father, who only nodded before going back to watering his plants. He wondered what all was said before he got there.

This wasn’t technically part of the plan, but this was a good start nonetheless.

“The other’s won’t be up for a while still. I’m heading to the dojo for my morning meditations.”

“You even have a dojo?” She couldn’t hide the surprise in her voice if she tried. Mutant turtles that meditate. That live in the sewers, that drink tea (at least one of them), that like Thai food, video games, and who knows what else.

Leonardo held back a chuckle as he gestured back towards the doorway. “You can join me, if you’d like.”

Y/N quickly shook her head. “I don’t even know how to meditate.”

“We all start somewhere. Are you coming?”

It was hard to say no.

Leonardo positioned her at the opposite end of the dojo as him. He gave her a few quick pointers to get her started before he sat down and shut his eyes.

Y/N watched him for a moment before she did the same. His words echoed in her head, so few instructions but so many at the same time.

Count your breaths.

In one, out two, all the way to ten and start again.

Let your mind feel what it needs to feel. Don’t let it engulf you, but allow yourself to feel.

When your mind wanders too far, start at one again. In. Out.

To think that she thought she was good at taking instruction.

In, one.

Two, out.

As she counted up, she could feel a metaphorical weight lift from her shoulders. She could hear Leonardo’s breathing in the corner, though it was soft. She felt his presence.

Shit, did I leave the tea in the greenhouse?

Back to one. Out, two.

Y/N could feel the darkness in her mind. She allowed herself to feel it, welcoming it as a friend as opposed to an intruder. It was part of her, her own way of feeling.

Out, six.

Meditation wasn’t something she thought of to do. Her life was too busy for something like that, she thought. Those minutes could be better spent elsewhere.

Maybe it was time to slow down.

Alright, back to one now.

Time became an afterthought. When she finally opened her eyes, Leonardo was beginning to stand. He reached his arms up, then held them behind his back in a stretch. She swore she could hear some joints popping.

Y/N slowly got to her feet, reaching her arms up towards the ceiling. Where she could see Leo could easily touch the ceiling, her arms were feet away from it. At least she knew she would never bump her head here.

Not that that was a general worry of hers. Not many walls were only five-foot something.

“That was nice,” she said, breaking the silence. “Do you do this every morning?” She recalled when he had said ‘morning meditations’.

“Every morning when I wake up. It helps clear my head and get me ready for the day,” Leonardo told her with a nod. “I’ll do it before nightfall if I need to as well.”

“A healthy habit,” she mused. “The others don’t join you?”

Leonardo gave her a shrug in response. “Sometimes. They’d prefer the extra sleep. Honestly, they could do with a little more meditation.”

“I definitely feel more ready for the day. Or breakfast at least.” As if on cue, her stomach began to growl.

He laughed. “Come on, let’s get you some breakfast.

“How long did we go, anyway?”

“Thirty minutes. You beat Mikey’s record.”

A small feat, she told herself. Mikey did not seem like one to keep still for that long.

Y/N should have referred to their meal as ‘lunch’, especially considering the time. She thought this as they passed through another corridor, one that was a little smellier than the rest. She did applaud them for keeping the place smelling less like sewer than it actually was. Did turtles have a sense of smell?

“So, you meditate. Do your brothers have any habits or hobbies?”

“Raphael does the most physical training,” Leo said, pointing to a door at the end of the hallway. “Weight training, boxing, you name it. Donnie keeps to his science-y stuff. He’s good with technology and chemistry, that pretty much covers most of his free time. Mikey… He has trouble focusing on one thing.”

“Shocking.”

He laughed. “He’s gotten better, more tolerable to live with. He’s not allowed near Donnie’s things anymore, though.”

Y/N stopped walking and crossed her arms over her chest. “Now you have to tell me this story.”

Leo was amazed. She had a completely different presence to her now than the night before. She was sarcastic, she was witty. He could tell she chose her words carefully, but when she looked at him, it wasn’t with the usual disgust or fear. It was with amazement, intrigue.

Strange human.

The tale began of how Mikey had accidentally caused a bad chemical reaction in Donatello’s lab area. It wasn’t a small sort of reaction- in fact, it ended up ruining most of Donnie’s equipment. He refused to speak to him for days as he tried to both fix and replace what had been lost. Y/N made a mental note to ask how they got equipment like that in the first place.

By the time Leo had no more to say, they were settled at the table in the kitchen with some food. He had made up a couple dozen sandwiches with various meats and toppings, all with cheese. When he set the platters down at the table, he paused. “I didn’t ask you what you wanted, did I?”

“I’m not that picky,” she assured him. “You probably need to explain what all these are, though.”

She picked a simple turkey sandwich after an entire speech ensued about each sandwich. They liked variety. As she took a bite, she smirked. “I had no idea turtles ate meat. Good to know.”

“Not sure if you’ve picked up on this yet, but we’re not your run-of-the-mill turtles.”

Oh, she definitely had.

#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt 2k14 #tmnt 2k16 #tmnt leonardo #tmnt leo #tmnt raphael #tmnt raph #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt mikey #tmnt donatello #tmnt donnie #tmnt splinter #tmnt leo x reader #leonardo x reader #tmnt reader insert #tmnt x reader

[heli0s-writes]

The Thief

Summary: Where do all of Bucky’s shirts keep disappearing to?  Pairing: Reader x Bucky A/N: 2.1k word count. Silliness, fluff. Posters from the fic LOL

Bag of Tricks One-Shots Masterlist

Bucky is missing another shirt on Saturday morning. He rifles through his closet, slapping the hangers to the left and down the pole where they clack against each other fearfully. Last week, this happened too. His favorite red Henley with the threadbare hem and black buttons— all day he had searched for it until—

Oh.

With a slightly exasperated groan and a backwards tilt of his head, he closes the closet door. Quietly, he slips out of his room and down the silent hallway until the chatter of voices from the kitchen meets his ears.

Wilson stands at the stove top, flipping pancakes the size of plates— heavy, thick, wheat ones, overloaded with blueberries. Steve is to his side, pouring milk and stealing fruit when Sam isn’t looking. Natasha is perched on the counter, sipping black coffee.

And then, his eyes skip over to the dining table where a pair of delicate feet are propped up on the glass, toes tapping off-beat to a tuneless song.

You.

No matter how many times Tony and Steve tell you to stop putting your feet on the table, you still do— almost out of spite and with glee. You match Steve in stubbornness and Sam in annoying-ness. You’re just a step behind Natasha when it comes to acting, too. The combination could be lethal if you weren’t such a lawless brat, squandering your talents on petty revenge.

You’re leaned back in the chair, comic book in hand with a silly lopsided smile and your hair tied in the messiest of buns. Strands loop out from the elastic, flop against your ear pathetically. There is a smudge of toothpaste on the corner of your mouth, and when you lick your dry lips, you lick it away too.

“Hey, when are those pannies ready?” You ask over the line of the glossed book.

“Don’t call them panties! And don’t rush perfection!” Sam hollers back.

“Okay…” You try again, “When are those pancakies ready?”

“Pan-cakes.” Steve sends over his shoulder, “Pancakes. One word, two syllables, no ‘y’ at the end.”

“Uh. It’s I and E, sir.” And when Steve sighs in displeasure, you tug the collar of the shirt over the bridge of your nose and hide your snickering inside. You pop a finger in your mouth and flip the page, leaving a wet round print on the edge. Tony is going to kill you when he finds out that you are desecrating his rare collection with spit.

With a snort and shake of his head, Bucky runs his hand through his bangs and walks up next to the table. “Huh.” He mumbles, finger rubbing the sleeve spilling from your shoulder, threatening to flood all the way down to your elbow. The specked brown fabric, slightly pilled is familiar beneath the pads of his thumb.

The very one he was searching for this morning. That timeworn thing, half falling apart because it’s been so many times washed.

“This looks familiar.”

“This?” You ask, eyes wide, “Is it— is it yours? Aw jeez, Barnes. I found it in the laundry room. It just looked so comfy.” One foot scratches the other and the shirt rides up your legs and folds against your stomach. Your rub the fabric against your collarbone, shifting it side to side, and the middle falls in-between your breasts, outlining the shape of you.

He has to bite down on his cheek to stop his next expression, but hums a noise of surprise anyway, “Wonder how it got in there.”

You shrug and blush, give him a fake demure smile before scooting your chair back and heading over to grab food. He follows lazily behind, watches the hem swing at the top of your thighs, a tiny inch of your athletic shorts peeks out underneath. You’re ridiculous, he thinks.

“Yummy yummy yummy, get into into my tummy.” You pull three pancakes onto your plate and Steve glares at the way you use your fingers even though there is a fork in your other hand.

“Your germs are gonna go into my tummy.”

Shocked, you press three bent fingertips to your sternum, “Captain, sir! It’s called a stomach! Two syllables. No Y!”

Steve follows your hand with a wry smile, then the slightest tilt of his head happens as he narrows his eyes on your chest.

“Captain Rogers, are you checking out my tit-tats?”

With a stutter, Steve flushes and turns around, busies himself with getting his own pancakes. Everyone else follows suit and soon enough the dining table is seated with all five, pouring syrup and cutting fluffy stacks into smaller pieces.

To his right, Bucky watches you roll up a pancake like a log and dunk it into a lake of syrup you’ve squirted on your plate. With your mouth full, you take your fork and steal a triangle from him. Syrup dribbles onto your— his shirt.

“We literally have the same food.” he complains.

“But… yours is better; Wilson put more love into yours. I think he put fingernails in mine.”

Across the table, Natasha smirks, “Arsenic, maybe.”

“Actually,” Sam corrects, “It’s rat poison.”

Behind another log dripping with syrup and melted butter, you grin and waggle your eyebrows at Sam, tongue slipping out beneath the roll to lap the dripping syrup away. Bucky kicks you under the table, a quiet reminder to stop being so obnoxious.

Instead of heeding his advice, you shove the rest of the sticky tube into your mouth and choke a little.

“Jesus Christ.” He mutters, turning away from where you are pounding on the table and coughing. “You dead?”

“Rest in damn pieces.” Sam adds.

Steve continues to stare suspiciously as you press your cheek to the glass surface and catch your breath.

You’re going to drive him crazy, he thinks.

He hides the smile behind a cut of pancake and a swig of coffee. A few more bites and he loads his plate into the dishwasher, returning to his room to take a shower, even thanking Sam for breakfast without an insult. Wilson looks after him curiously but takes the compliment where he can get it.

On his way back to his room, Bucky stops by the familiar door decorated with a single poster you printed off in the lab—a kitschy and poorly edited photograph of Sam with a rainbow-colored clown wig over his head, not even fully covering his hair. Underneath his torso are the words Sam Wilson Local Dumbass.

You had made it after a mission where Sam’s wing clipped your shoulder and your gun went off into a gas tank, blowing out half the floor. It’s been almost half a year and you still haven’t taken the poster down—vowing not to change it until the year passes. Petty revenge, Bucky scoffs to himself.

Bucky pushes past the door and yanks open your closet, staring at the piles of shirts and shorts, mountains of pants and dresses you’ve never worn. On top of each heap are a million pairs of panties, like you just grab your laundry basket and throw it in. You probably do. The doors are always shut probably because you have the object permanence of an infant and if it’s out of sight, it’s out of mind, too.

He laughs when he sees the assorted hangers on the pole, varying sizes and some bent completely out of shape. There are precisely four, neatly aligned next to each other, out of place with the rest of the disordered space.

His hand reaches up to tug on the familiar red Henley he found last week over your torso as you sat watching a movie with Natasha. You had tied an elastic band to the bottom of it, the tiniest sliver of your hip showing beneath.

Next to the red is a gray long-sleeve. Next to that is a cream-colored shirt he hardly wears but you mentioned one night that you liked seeing him in lighter colors. Ironic that you’d steal it from him, then.

At the end of the row, folded neatly over the bar of a plastic green hanger, is a single pair of his black boxers and he nearly hisses when he yanks it off in mortification.

“What?” Your voice calls from the doorway, “They’re clean.”

“Jesus! Why do you have these?”

A wide grin stretches over your mouth, “I wear ‘em to sleep sometimes. Mostly when you’re not here.”

“Darlin’, you got your own clothes.” Bucky smiles, wishing he could genuinely find your antics annoying and not so damn cute. Walking forward, his fingers reach under your shirt where the smooth plane of your stomach starts, other hand moving over your head to push the door close. “It’s hard to keep a secret when you’re so obvious about it.”

You whine, bratty again, and he shuts up the noise with a press of his mouth over yours, “It was only fun for like, two months.” You mutter into his mouth, “But really, Buck. Everyone here is so oblivious that we could probably fuck on the conference table and they wouldn’t notice.”

A strangled breath falls out of his mouth, “We- we haven’t—f—” He can’t even bring himself to say it, because unfortunately, he is so stupidly shy when it comes to you. “D-don’t say f...” His face burns red and he attempts to look at anything else but your devious smile as you tap a finger over the band of his sweatpants.

“Fuck?” You laugh, “Fucky-fuck-fuck, Bucky-Buck-Buck.”

Then, quick as a whip, you leap up and lock your ankles around his waist, knees splayed out to his sides. Automatically, his hands catch underneath your bottom. Three months of secretly dating and all he’s done is kiss you senseless in utility closets. And now you’re saying… Jesus.

You’re going to kill him, he thinks.

Leaning back, you almost pitch out of his hold but then you stop yourself and slowly shrug the shirt—his shirt from your torso. “You wanna, right? Three months, Bucko. You’re playing a slow burn game that I am not good at.” You grin and drop the shirt onto the floor, the sight of your bare skin turning his entire body hot. “Bucky…!” You whine loudly, bouncing in his arms, “Come on!”

He groans at the way you shift against his groin and thinks fuck it. If you kill him, it’ll be a good thing. Rest in damn good pieces. Bucky sighs and tilts forward, pressing his nose to your neck, inhaling the scent of maple syrup. “Baby, you’re so—”

The door slams open and you yelp, falling out of Bucky’s hands and onto the floor on your back. “What the fuck!”

Steve is pointing, wide triumphant grin across his face, “I knew it! I knew that shirt looked familiar!” Bucky pitches forward, covers your bare chest with his body and nearly crushes you underneath.

“You fucking perv, Steve! Stop trying to look at my tit-tats!”

“I didn’t mean to!” Steve cries, turning around. Bucky kicks the door shut with his foot as you continue to curse out Steve on the other side of the door. With an amused sigh at the way your nose scrunches up as you hurl insults, he presses his nose to your collarbone again, licks away the stain of syrup you’d dropped earlier on yourself.

--

He wakes up in your empty bed around noon, groggy and a little confused as to why you’re suddenly gone. Disappointment and fear sparks in his chest at the thought of his lonely state. Was it bad? Maybe this is how you’re breaking up with him. Fuck—was it that bad?

Bucky slowly gets up, slips on his sweatpants from the earlier morning and scoops his clothes into his arms, mind set on clearing out his belongings from your room if the relationship is truly over, not even bothering to put a shirt on.

The hallway isn’t empty this time—down the walkway you are crouched with something in your hand in front of Natasha’s room, but you pay him no mind. Bucky tucks his clothing under his arm, turning around to close your door before his eyes catch sight of what’s been newly taped to it.

An enormous poster decorates the plain paint. Steve’s face is blown up and touches each corner. Over his eyes you’ve photoshopped two enormous breasts and under his chin are the words: Steve Rogers, Local Pervert.

Bucky sputters before a loud howling laughter tears itself from his throat as he pitches over to hold himself up on the door frame. It’s obscene—the petty revenge, it’s your worst one yet. He’s really going to fall in love with you, he thinks.

Down the hallway, you look over and grin at him, taping yet another poster to someone else’s door. Over your torso, again, as always, is his shirt.

#bucky barnes #marvel #mcu #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #fanfiction #reader insert #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan bucky barnes

[fairymadnessyeah]

A Definitely Real Dad

Link to AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24016309

Summary: Gyro seeks advice from an expert when he is faced with his greatest foe yet: Parenting an adorable real boy.

Or Alternatively: Mad scientist feeling emotions for tiny adorable robot needs help from tired and expert parent that is also a sailor.

Notes: This needs to happen.

Also Ducktales Disney right now: "You get a child, you get a child, you get a child, EVERYBODY GETS A CHILD!!!!"

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"Why do you think Doctor Gearloose invited us to his lab?" Huey asked his companions Louis, Dewey, Webby, Della and Donald as they rode the elevator to the underwater laboratory below McDuck Enterprises'.

The elevator dinged and open its doors, revealing Doctor Gearloose looking at a piece of paper while Manny, Lil Bulb and Fenton working on a turbine.

"Oh, the ducks are here!" Gyro exclaims, folding the paper he had on his hands and pocketing it in his pants. He gently leads the family to where his partners were working as he explains why he needed them here. "I need your assistance testing my new mega super plane turbine powered by gold!"

Almost all the ducks present gasp in amazement and run towards the invention. The only one that looks at it in suspicion is the mature Donald Duck. He eventually shrugs it off, his uncle's employee wouldn't purposely put his kids in danger. But then he feels a feathered hand on his shoulder and a dark aura behind him. He turned around slowly, the feathers at the back of his neck standing up.

Doctor Gyro Gearloose was looking down at him, his face neutral and the light shining against his glasses hid his eyes, making him look extremely intimidating. "You will come with me Mr Duck," The scientist tells him slowly and threateningly.

As the unluckiest duck on the world was being shoved to a side room by the mad scientist, his family, ignorant to what was happening to him, kept playing with the machine. Although it didn't take long for the kids and Della to lose interest. As the turbine got boring, they noticed that the duck sailor was missing. Fenton dismissed their worries though, telling them that Doctor Gearloose probably needed him for something and continued to show them his inventions.

"And these are my spy-bugs," Fenton presents, showing them a bunch of different flying insects robots. Pressing a code on a mini-computer, the firefly one activates, lifting into the air. "With these little guys, we would be able to have 24-hour surveillance. They all work in a hive-mind structure and are controlled by this remote device that can be connected with any sort of memory RAM. NOW CONTEMPLATE!" Fenton uses the remote device to move the firefly out of the room and then turn on the giant computer of the lab and it starts showing what the robot is recording.

"HOW COME YOU WON'T DO IT!?"  A shout echoes nearby the robot and Fenton, recognising Dr Gearloose voice, makes the machine follow the sound. They see an office where Gyro is holding Donald by his uniform and shaking him. The scientist then sighs and lets him go.  "Well, If you won't cooperate, then you leave me no choice!"  Gyro declares as he takes off his glasses dramatically and stands taller over the duck, looking ready to destroy him.

"PLEEEEEEESSSSSEEEEEEEE!"

The peppers let go of the breath they were holding. Gyro had not done anything to Donald, instead, he fell to his knees and begged the other bird as he held his glasses in his hands clasped like a prayer.

"Alright, I'll help you," Donald sighs, his voice resembling that of a normal being. Dewey said he sounded like an actor from one of those comic book movies that everybody got crazy for. "But I can't guarantee results," Gyro got up and, out of nowhere, got top-notch audio recording gear and sat on a stool with a note pad and a pen.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"First," Donald started. "You need to listen. Listen to what they say, how they say it and what they don't say. That is usually where the problems appear,"

"You also need to be trustworthy. You want them to come to you with their problems. But until that happens, you need to show them that you can and will help them solve their problem,"

"But if they don't tell me what's wrong how am I supposed to know that something is even wrong?" Gyro asks.

"That is the next tip, notice the little details. For example, whenever Huey drinks chocolate-milk with three spoons of cocoa powder instead of two, means that his junior woodchuck meeting didn't go so well; Whenever Dewey does a dance that consists of two spins, one flip and landing on bent knees and jazz hands means he is proud of something; or whenever Louis gets a wrinkle next to his right eye, means he is lying,"

"But the two most important things you need to remember and never forget is that you are a parent and that your life is not only yours anymore,"

"What do you mean?" Gyro asks again. "I am his parent, what else would I be?"

"It means that you aren't his friend, you aren't his buddy that will never get mad and will do anything for you. You are his parent and sometimes, you have to be the bad guy of the story," Donald tells him.

"And the life-thing?"

"It's his no. You eat what they want to eat, you eat what they want to eat, you watch what they want to watch. Your life revolves around them, they matter more than you or your feelings now,"

Gyro nods and it looks like he is about to say something but the screen turns black.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Hey," Dewey complains as the image disappears.

"I'm sorry little ducks, but that seemed like a private conversation and I refuse to eavesdrop on it anymore," Fenton tells them as the robotic-firefly returns and he leaves it with the rest. "Come, I have more inventions you can play with it," He gently guides them away from the monitor.

The ducks follow him with Lil Bulb behind them, except for one. The grown woman was starring at the screen. Every time she believed that she understood how the last years without her had been for her twin, she found out that there was something she had missed. And Donald's examples, about the tiniest details of the boys, she didn't know any of them, yet Donald seemed to know them by heart.

"Mom?" Dewey called as he turned back for her, after noticing she didn't follow them.

"Comin' honey" She snapped out of her inner monologue and followed her kids.

They spent a whole afternoon testing and helping Fenton, at some point, even Boyd joined them. The kids spent the evening together, playing, laughing and catching up. Boyd was now living full-time at the lab with Dr Gearloose, Manny and Lil Bulb.

The drakes had not taken the news very well, believing that once Boyd left, things would go back to the way things were before him. But the real boy made sure to pass his half of the inheritance to the two responsible adults, leaving Doofus without the power to be richer than his parents. They were all making plans for Boyd to come and sleepover at McDuck when the duck and the rooster that were missing came into the room. Dewey was the first one to ask for the cybernetic boy to come over.

"Well, I have no problem with it," Donald said in his normal voice.

"May I go, Dr Gearloose?" Boyd asks, looking up to the scientist.

"Maybe some other time, we still have to check if there is any residual damage from Beaks viruses on you," The chicken explains and pats the real boy on the head.

"Alright, thank you Dr Gearloose,"

Not long after the duck family is leaving, as well as Dr Fenton. Manny also retreated to his quarters soon enough. Gyro was working on Boyd wiring while the real boy was telling him about his day.

"And Mrs mom was very sad when I got to leave but she told me I can return any moment,"

"Would you like that?" Gyro asks remembering what Donald had told him.  ("Make him feel listened to. Do things he likes, and if they want to do anything without you, let him be. You are not the only person in his life.")

"Yes, that would be splendid! Once my programme is clear, could we visit?" Boyd asks.

"Of Course we can," Gyro tells him as he closes the lid on the robot's head. "But now it's time to recharge so that you have all your energy for tomorrow. You have that Woodchuck-thingy you like, right?"

"Yes, my Junior Woodchuck meeting, at 9:30 sharp, remember to bring Ice-pops wood sticks," He says as if reading a remainder on a calendar while the scientist and his creation when to Boyd's room.

The room used to be a storage closet for failed projects, but they put up a sliding door to give Boyd more privacy. The real boy had a closet, a small library with a study table, a laptop, some video-games and a bed. The bed was more like a nest, with a Japanese mattress and a lot of pillows and blankets piled up to make a circular form. Boyd would usually sleep in the middle with the blankets and pillows cocooning him in warmth. Next to his bed-nest, there is a tall bulbless lamp. Doctor Gyro used to have it in his room since it was Lil Bulb's resting place, but the little rascal moved it once Boyd's room started being furnished.

"Alright, I'll drive you tomorrow and we will pick up what you need on the way," Gyro tells him as he connects wires to his back panel to charge him. "If you need anything I will be on the room next door," The chicken said.  ("Always remind him that you are there for him. Kids tend to forget that,")

"Goodnight, Dr Gearloose!"

"Goodnight, Boyd!" He sees Lil Bulb climbing the lamp and posting himself on the top, before the light it emitted turned off before he leaves the room.

As soon as he is outside, the renewed scientist with a high intellect punched the air in excitement as the word "Success!" went off in his mind. When he turned to his side, heading towards his room, he saw Manny in front of his own door. The two scientists looked at each other for a while, no one moving, until the rooster fixes his clothes and his glasses.

"Not a tap from you, or your headless behind is fired," He tells the horse as he steps into his room.

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Another date, another morning, another day where Doctor Gyro Gearloose wakes up to another mistake made by naive and foolish Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera that he had to deal with. This time in the form of a weird duck dressed in so much black, that the scientist is willing to bet its a hobo-emo that his stupid ex-intern picked up last night. The guy looks extremely beat up and not alone. There is also that stupid pilot that hangs around McDuck and a girl duckling.

Gyro sighs frustrated and rubs his temples. He did not have time for this. He had to take Boyd to his scouts meeting and even buy something on the way there.

"Explanation, Now," Gyro demand as he goes closer and checks on the individual better.

Launchpad, Fenton and the kid, who he learns her name is Gosalyn and the daughter of said hobo-emo, tell him that Gizmoduck and Darkwing Duck had a sort of agreement. They each take turns patrolling the city, both day and night, but last night, Darkwing came upon something too big for him and Gosalyn, who Gyro was starting to realize had more brain cells than the three adults combined, called Gizmoduck for back up. The two self-proclaimed superheroes ended the job, but the one not protected by a metallic super-suit, unsurprisingly, got the worst part of the stick and ended up in here to recover.

Just as they finished explaining their night full of shenanigans, Boyd came out into the main room of the lab, wearing his Junior Woodchuck uniform and a backpack.

"Oh, hi! I am B.O.Y.D! A definitely real boy!" The android says once he notices the other unknown ducks in the room.

"I want them out of my lab by the moment I'm back, Crackshell. Understood?" Gyro threatens the other scientist, that nods in response, and then turns to Boyd. "Come on Boyd, we don't want to be late to your meeting," The boy takes his hand and the two walk to the elevator.

"It was nice to meet you!" Boyd tells the others and waves as the elevator doors close.

The two birds head to the central park of Duckberg, stopping on a convenience store on their way. Using his moped is easier and faster than any car, not needing to wait for traffic. And even if Boyd can fly, he had already told him to only use his robotic enhancements when needed. Not to mention that it also helps with one of the tips he was given yesterday.  ("You have to prioritize him. Once everything is done with him, you can follow with your day,")

The reach the park fairly quickly, but when he gives Boyd the things they bought for this meeting, he notices that the backpack moves. It takes him a second to realize that Bulb never came out of the boy's room.

"Come on out Lil Bulb," He tells the backpack, and sure enough, said invention comes out of the little boy's knapsack.

"He wanted to accompany me to my Junior Woodchuck meeting," Boyd tells him. "Can he come?" ("You have to set rules, boundaries. There are things that they can't do or can't touch. And you have to tell him so, because even if it sounds obvious to you, it might not to them.")

"He can't Boyd, I need him at the lab," He explains to the real boy.

"Understood. Goodbye, Doctor Gearloose!"

"I'll see you at lunch," The scientist gets back on his moped and straps his helmet on. He notices that Lil Bulb is giving his back to him with his arm crossed, as if offended over what happened. "Oh please, don't be difficult you too,"

As he makes his way back to the underwater lab, he can't help the feeling that those three lunatic and that girl are gonna be there. Not surprisingly, when the elevator's doors ding open, the idiot, the stupid and the girl are marvelling at the facility and its contents as hobo-emo was slowly getting off the table he was laid in and stretching his column back into place.

"Gosalyn, don't touch that! You don't know what it does!" He reprimands the girl.

Gyro sighs defeated and pours himself a cup of coffee. As he sips his revival elixir, his mind wanders at the purple and black buffoon before him. The guy was in a dire need of an upgrade. He didn't scream battle-suit like Gizmo, but maybe a few gadgets and a more protective and lasting outfit would benefit him. If the guy was going to go around and try to be a nameless and unrecognised vigilante, the least he could do was have more than just a costume and a poor ensemble of sidekicks.

"Gosalyn, No, Get down from there!" Or maybe what he needed was something else.

Gyro looked at the girl duckling, who was balancing over an old cloning tube of his, and then back at the nightly superhero, who had red lines over his eyes, enormous black bags under his eyes, a stiff neck and almost ready to drop dead any second now. Analysing the facts he had, he made a decision.

"Gosalyn, Get down from there, We need to go! Now!" The dark avenger of the night kept scolding the younger duck, that still lead him nowhere.

"Here," Gyro, out of nowhere, presented a card to the shorter man. "A parenting expert, it seems like you need it,"

Drake looks between the card and the scary mad scientist twice before taking the card. Gyro left him alone once he took it to keep working on his inventions, leaving Drake to his own devices with the card.

Donald Duck xxx-xxxx-xxxx McDuck Manor's Pool

#ducktales #b.o.y.d. #gyro gearloose #donald duck #fenton crackshell #darkwing duck #gyro dad #darkwing dad #parental figures #ao3fic

[gofancyninjaworld]

Meta: What rough beast slouches to be born?

Right, webcomic chapter 125 has raised quite a few questions about cyborgs and I purposely left it aside. Until now.  I’m sorry for the length, but I’m only allowed one ‘readmore’. :(

What we knew

Many moons ago for us, 9 or so weeks ago for them, Genos showed up at Saitama’s doorstep like a refugee from another world, telling a tale of destroyed towns, rampaging cyborgs, and desperate revenge quests.   It’s seemed rather far-fetched, particularly as not much has happened on that front.   Over the course of the story, we’ve had little bits of independent corroboration about the veracity of his story.  The town that he was born in was definitely erased from the map.  Yes, a cyborg is wanted in connection with the incident. 

But where is that guy? Does it have anything to do with the powered suit-flogging cyborgs seen early on the series? Does it have anything to do with the ‘glimpse behind the scenes’ chapter the manga offered us with Drive Knight (but no context as to how that glimpse fitted into the wider story)?  Come to that, where are all the cyborgs?

To start with, there are a lot of cyborgs of various sorts in OPM.  Quite a few moons ago, I wrote a bit about them, drawing a distinction between those who used parts to replace lost function and those who looked at it as a change of identity: “Is the Organization a Claw Analogue?”

 Chapter 125 has been surprisingly good about confirming some of what I surmised about cyborgs, but it’s brought some very good additional information!  On we go!

There are cyborgs; and then there are Cyborgs

Our ambassador through the world of cyborgs is new Neo Hero recruit Koko (Solitude), who modified his body for the world of cyborg fighting, only he was a little too successful and no one would bet on him.  We see him scanning various people and passing commentary on them.

The first to give him serious pause is Webigaza, who lost six months of life to getting her body modifications done -- no wonder she’s pissed off that her rival has self-destructed in the interim.

Koko is shaken by her having 71% of her body modified.

obsessive determination is terrifying to look at

Percentage body modification of the sort Koko is used to seeing, 30% maximum, you can do right here right here and now.  It’s equivalent to losing a leg and most of the other. Here and now, we can also do brain implants to control tremors or fits or some neurological conditions,  replace part of the heart, spine fusions, quite a few bits and pieces.  The sort of modifications Koko is used to seeing are very functional ones that make sense for someone looking to get an edge in fighting for money.  They’re also along the lines of what we’ve seen with One-Shotter or Death Gatling.

If you lose and replace all four limbs, that's 50% of your body modified. While quadruple amputees unfortunately exist IRL,  I don’t know if anyone has had the kind of money, physical fitness and pure grit to do that.  Nevertheless it’s not technically impossible. 60% sounds about right before you're now looking at breaking into the more vital parts of your body.  The point at which the risk involved just can't be justified in terms of restoring function or health. I’m emphasising that because I’m going to come back to this point.   He’s shaken because modifications that extensive aren’t about simply gaining an edge; they’re being willing to exchange serious bodily harm for serious power.  It says a lot about who Webigaza is.

Within the Hero Association, I think we do know a hero round about that 60% mark.  Jet Nice Guy comes to mind.  He sports an armored exterior, powerful artificial limbs (which will need internal reinforcement to not just rip up his body), but his innards are all human. After the way he started to bleed out after Nyan slashed him, I realised that the reason it looked like intestines when the Deep Sea King ripped him open is because they were... >.<  Sorry, dude. 

the worst of both worlds -- too modified to have an easy life, still too weak to deal with the real monsters that exist

Scary enough, but then the security staff come in to stop the kerfuffle that Koko and his buddy, Mars Leo, were causing.  Koko scanned them and was stunned into horror:

as disciplined and ruthless a pair of killers as you could never hope to lay eyes on.  Definitely not frothing at the mouth, these two!

These two have modified themselves so extensively they’re almost inhuman. 94, 95% body modification is equivalent to having only 3.5 - 4.2 kg of live mass left assuming an original live mass of 70 kg.  And, if the similar naming convention didn’t tip you off to it, it’s around the sort of hyper-extensive modification we see Genos having. [See under the readmore for a first-principles estimation I did a long time ago.]  Maybe Drive Knight too if he’s a cyborg.   What kind of power have they exchanged their human bodies for?  What kind of people are willing to do that to themselves? Koko is very sure that he does NOT want to know.

When he tells you who he is, believe him

That’s dating advice often given to ladies overlooking obvious red flags  but it goes with great force in OPM. ONE has characters tell us who they are early on, even if it doesn’t mean anything to us for a long time. 

And he’s had Genos be a particularly straightforward and truthful character.  He doesn’t always interpret things correctly, but he says it exactly as he sees it.  Looking at the way the high percentage cyborgs we’ve met thus far either be very inhuman looking or completely disguised as regular human beings,  he’s chosen an appearance that puts both his humanity and mechanical nature on display.

Something that the chapter has brought up that I've kept saying to people on the Discord and on Reddit: there is no medically justifiable reason for Genos to have a body as modified as he does.   Which Genos TELLS US for fuck’s sake.  His giant wall of text is a synopsis, no more and no less.

When he says that “...I asked Professor Kuseno to perform a procedure to modify my body. Then I was reborn as a cyborg for justice...”  (Viz)  “...I begged Dr Stench (sic) to transform me into a cyborg and I was reborn as a cyborg who fights for justice...” (Boon scanslations, who copied verbatim whoever did the webcomic version). It’s nothing to do with health.  Feel free to have whatever headcanons you like, but please don’t confuse them with the story.

But it doesn’t end there.  I look at Destro and Erimin and realise that there’s another perfectly truthful statement that’s been staring us in the face.

Genos knows. Why would he ask a mechanical engineer who uses a wearable battle suit and pilots armed drones to modify his body, let alone modify it to such an insane degree?  Because he knows that Dr Kuseno knows how to build cyborgs like the one who destroyed his town.

We don’t know if Destro and Erimin have any responsibility for the destroyed town, but someone of their ilk does.   Which brings us to a third nakedly truthful statement. When Genos talks of not believing that he could be defeated by anything other than the rampaging cyborg, he’s not anticipating winning because he’s suicidal.  It’s because he’s aware that if he’s throwing rock, so too is his enemy: mutual annihilation is the best he can hope for.

At least until he met Saitama. And started to hope for not mutual destruction, but victory (check the difference in chapter 108 of the webcomic).

a world away from the attitude of mutually-assured destruction he started with.

Stepping away from the text a bit, it casts a different light on why he’s been so desperate to learn from Saitama. Learning Saitama's secret is his balance-breaker. He wants something other than rock, that is guaranteed to smash whatever rock his enemy might throw.    But that’s not all there is.   As Garou said, once he discovered Blue Fire’s flamethrower, once you know how a freakish weapon works, you know it.  Any edge a new weapon might give Genos is liable to be studied and replicated  (see how quickly Dr Kuseno was able to reverse engineer and adapt the principles of G-4′s curving energy beams).   But Saitama’s strength is unphysical: no matter how closely you inspect his body, you can never relate the physicality of Saitama’s body to the power he can generate.  That unphysicality, that’s what Genos wants too.   It also puts in context why he’s been so fascinated by psychic power and wants to learn it if at all possible.

neat trick, I’ll take two!  Genos dodging G4′s beams in chapter 38, and putting the principle of them to good use in chapter 120

And finally, since in his world, knowledge is literally power, it gives yet another layered reason Genos is so determined to keep anyone else from becoming Saitama’s disciple.  If they learn his secret too, then the advantage he seeks will be lost.  (that it doesn’t work quite that way for Saitama is a fact for us to enjoy and for him to find out).

Nothing is as scary as a human being

Nothing is as scary as a human being is one of the things that Reigen says to Tome on occasion. It’s in full force in OPM.  Monsters may be strong, but they all live in the now.  Only a human being could have put together the Monster Association.   When it comes to cyborgs, their abilities may be inhuman but their thoughts, imaginations, morals and appetites are all 100% human.   It’s a terrifying combination.

There’s something I missed when I likened The Organization to a Claw Analogue. In Mob Psycho 100, the protagonists are children and they're fighting an organisation made up of over-grown children -- adults who have refused to grow up. In One-Punch Man, the protagonists are adults and the bad humans in the story are very much adults too.   With calculated cruelty and depravity to match. When The Organization bares its claws for real, this is going to get so brutal.

If Genos has not been standing still, then neither has his enemy.  From the manga, even if we hold Drive Knight blameless and independent of all this mess, his besting Nyan told us that cyborgs can indeed come crazy-strong and highlighted how much more work Genos had yet to do. It also highlighted how very clever and calculating cyborgs can be -- well, they’re human, duh!  If I was worried for his prospects then,  in the webcomic, Genos is nowhere near as psychologically, physically or emotionally ready as his manga version is.   And the guys who look to be his enemies aren’t going to be cutting him any slack.   They’re very real.  They’re not mad.  And they’re closer than he ever imagined.

Fighting monsters is barely adequate preparation for whatever it is that’s to come.

Whenever Genos gets dragged into whatever it is those cyborgs are up to  -- or runs into it, since he claims he’s still hunting the rampaging cyborg -- ‘rough’ doesn’t begin to describe it.

Extra Stuff

Edited from an answer I gave on Reddit to the question of how much of Genos was still organic about 2 years ago.  It’s unexpectedly relevant!

Short answer: by mass, under 10% , assuming he would have weighed  approximately 70 kg. By function, quite a bit.

 The long answer.

I’m going to write this starting from what is most readily observable and readily inferred to the least. In appreciation of this being a work of fiction that treats physical laws lightly, I too am taking a more-or-less approach and will keep technical terms to a minimum. I'm also not a medic and I don't play one on TV -- assume generous hand-wavium. Items in {curly brackets} are incidental notes you can skip.

Level 0: Canonically observable.  The least controversial observation is that Genos does have an organic brain. Genos does not live in a lab, but is able to live largely independently, including being able to eat whatever he likes with no ill-effect. Not just that, but he lives an active and hard-fighting life that appears to do him no permanent harm (I will return to this in a few paragraphs).  What can we take from this?

Edit: There is also ONE’s initial settings for Genos, which I quote here from the Hero Data Book

ONE: There's no need to visit Dr. Kuseno's place every time when his wrist break down, because he got his own spare parts at hand. Dr Kuseno's Lab is there In case for a big reparation job, a drastic upgrade or an examination.

It’s tempting to think that because we see that he definitely has a brain that’s all there is – the brain in a jar phenomenon, so to speak. Something a lot of people miss is that the spinal cord proper isn’t optional either -- it’s a core part of the central nervous system.  Spinal cords are a lot shorter than most people think they are, averaging 12 inches long for women and 15 inches for men.  The rest are nerve processes that can be cut and will regrow (within limits). We’re also happy to allow for nerves and their endings -- there must be an interface for the prosthetics so they're under the fine voluntary control that we see. However, that’s not all that there can be. The Cartesian mind-body duality is completely wrong when it comes to physiology. Our brains are intimately bound with our bodies and our bodies with our brains. So what does one need?

Level 1: Perfusion. This is the most obvious one. Without a blood supply providing oxygen, glucose and removing waste products from our brains, we have 4-5 seconds of consciousness available, 2-3 minutes in which we can escape brain damage and 8-10 minutes in which not to die. So, number one is a reliable blood supply.  Absolutely necessary therefore are a means of generating the various blood cells, perfusing and distributing them and disposing of damaged cells (red blood cells have a lifespan of 1-2 months). While not as acutely important, a self-sustaining blood supply is also the basis of a functioning immune system.  It's a bit of an oops moment when your super-killer cyborg catches a cold and dies.

Accordingly, bone marrow is essential as a source of hematopoietic (blood-forming) stem cells. A suitably reduced blood vessel and lymphatic vessel system is also needed to run the blood where it needs to go. {An awesome feature of living beings is that new blood vessels will be recruited to where they need to go and redundant branches pruned back, a process known as vascular remodelling}. A reduced liver and possibly spleen will be needed to appropriately destroy worn out blood cells. At least one functional kidney, in the role of producing the hormone erythropoietin, without which red blood cells will not be formed. Not essential: a heart and lungs, which he definitely doesn't have. How much blood is needed?  I’ll come to that answer once we’ve tallied how much body is needed.

Additionally, since part of perfusion is getting rid of metabolic waste, a liver and kidney will be absolutely indispensable.  

Level 2: Homoeostasis. A living organism has a very narrow range in which its internal environment, such as oxygen saturation, temperature, pH (acidity or alkalinity) amongst other things can vary without harm.

There are around 40 or so hormones, the signalling molecules that keep us going as functional concerns, regulating such things as blood pressure, salt/water balance, available energy, sleep cycle, body temperature, mood, immune system... the list goes on. Each has a stupid number of secondary functions and interacts with others in a ludicrous number of ways (note highly scientific language). Their levels vary and change on the order of seconds to hours. It's a good job that the main organiser of homoeostasis, the hypothalamus, is part of the brain. {Incidentally, this is why a brain-dead cadaver cannot be kept ‘alive’ on life support indefinitely – everything falls out of sync and eventually to pieces.} To do this artificially is to have your cyborg never leave the lab: if you're not constantly monitoring and adjusting levels, then they will die. Fortunately, as mentioned, a living, functional brain has the control network needed to keep everything working without the extensive and expensive effort. Just add air, water and food (in that priority).

At this point, we've already met most of the organs needed to maintain homoeostasis in their capacity of maintaining a blood supply. We need to add some bone, not just to serve as a niche (living environment) for the bone marrow and its stem cells mentioned previously but as a source and sink for minerals, the adrenal glands and the thyroid gland. Finally, one must not forget pancreatic islets -- or it'll be for nothing as he goes into a diabetic coma.

Level 3: Energy.   Speaking of food, a brain needs essential fatty acids for turnover and lots and lots of glucose for energy. It’s entirely possible to supply nutrients as total parenteral nutrion (TPN for short).  People whose digestive systems have completely failed get individually formulated TPN solutions, which requires that they spend several hours a day feeding it into their blood supply. Not something we see Genos do.  And yes, you heard it here: not everyone poops, but everyone sure as hell pees.  While a brain only weighs about 1.5 kg, it uses up about 500 calories a day as glucose, so 700 ish calories a day should suffice for all the needs of his live mass. This bears no relationship to the amount of food we see Genos put away on occasion. Why hasn’t he wrecked his liver in a matter of weeks? The answer would appear to lie in the artificial digestive system Dr. Kuseno has given him which turns food into biofuel. It must be patched into a feedback loop which allows it to only supply what’s physiologically necessary at any given time. Lucky for some!

Level 4: So how much body does that add up to exactly?  Nothing says you have to keep the necessary organs and blood vessel network the same size. With only a 1.5 kg brain to support, many can be shrunk a good 50% if not more. A total living mass of 7 kg would be quite feasible. We know from organ-on-a-chip experiments (and from unfortunate people who have lost part of their organs) that provided the essential architecture of the tissue is respected, they will work fine. Nothing says you have to keep them in the same place as the original organs were -- you can encapsulate it all in a can and shorten the nerves serving the organs to a more rational, manageable length. It's nice and compact and can be protected as heavily as the brain is.

Now we’re in a position to answer how much blood Genos has. There are about 70 ml of blood per kilogram of body weight, so at ~ 7 kg, we’re talking about 500 ml of blood. For comparison, the typical 70 kg person has 5 litres of blood. Why does this matter?  Because it allows us to answer a question many may be curious about: how often does Genos get hurt?

The answer is: Almost Never. With so little body, and with most of that body consisting of aptly named vital organs, even small injuries can turn catastrophic in no time.  Genos will bleed out with around 150 ml of blood loss, which is less than half of what is donated in a typical blood donation.  Horrible and dramatic as the smashes he gets into are, it’s more akin to a Formula 1 race car tumbling end over end and catching fire, only for the driver to walk out unscathed.  His cyborg parts are replaceable and can be sacrificed to protect what’s irreplaceable if need be.

#OPM #cyborg #Genos #meta #ONE hides things in plain sight #because they don't make sense until they do

[ambrosiaiswriting]

the trials and tribulations of passing on a sunflower

by ambrosia

In any other situation, Sol would be thrilled to carry around a long-stemmed sunflower with her backpack and iced coffee. She would have taken extra time to pull her dark curls under a silk yellow bandana and put on her favorite white sundress to complete the whole look. Sol revels in the idea of drifting between the biology department and the Union, leaving nothing but intrigued gazes and yellow petals in her wake. 

Instead, the sunflower simply serves as a reminder of her mission for the day ahead, filling her with anxiety. She has a plan, she’ll be fine.

It had started out as a simple task. Lila, her roommate, had brought home a large bouquet of golden sunflowers from the flower shop she worked on the weekends. Sol thought she was going to distribute them into various vases throughout their apartment, but instead, Lila had left a few at every door in their floor of the apartment building. Each bunch was tied with twine and a note that read: A Random Act of Kindness. Pay it forward to someone new to spread the sunshine.

That’s all it was, a random act of kindness. Lila had said it as if it were the simplest thing in the world. Just pass on the sunflower to someone who is yet to receive one. 

Yet despite its simplicity, the act has been the only thing on her mind from the moment she had decided who to give it to. She has a plan and it was going to work out. It has to.

Now, she sits in her Molecular Biology lecture twenty minutes before class starts, her knee frantically bouncing underneath the table. The annoying flower in question glares at her from the seat beside her, sticking out of her backpack. 

The only other person in the lecture hall is a boy sitting at the end of the front row as he always does, hunched so far into his book that she thinks it will swallow him whole. Some part of her wishes he had questioned her sunflower, just so she could tell him her foolproof plan, but he hadn’t even glanced up when she had walked in. Maybe it’s for the better; she doesn’t want to jinx her plan.

Just as Sol plugs in her headphones, her phone begins to vibrate with an incoming FaceTime call. Sol looks up to see if the boy notices, but he just turns a page, undisturbed. Sol slides low in her seat. “I have class, what do you want?” she says to the caller.

Maya’s smile flashes across the screen for just a moment before she slips away from view. She’s in her room, and Sol can hear the creak of her dresser as she digs through it. Just in frame is her desk with a single sunflower on top. “What, do I need a reason to call my best friend?”

Sol stares down the sunflower as she speaks. “When you know I’m in class? Yeah. I’m busy, Maya, call someone else.”

“Wait!” Maya appears back in front of the phone. “I promise it’s just a second.” She holds two pairs of silver earrings for Sol to see. “Which one goes better with my blue dress?”

Sol drags a hand across her face, but it's mostly to hide her growing smile. Despite how Maya loves to bother her in every waking moment, there is a smidge of pride that she came to Sol for fashion advice. “Did you seriously call me for this? Where are you going? Why aren’t you in class? It’s 10 am. Also, do the star ones, I don’t like either of those.”

“Eh, it’s fine. I can afford to skip one day.” Maya reaches for the star drop earrings that Sol adores. “These?”

“Maya! You can’t just skip class because you can. Do you have a presentation or something?”

There’s a gleam in her eye when Maya winks. “Or something.”

“I swear if you’re going on a date, I will force you to make dinner tonight.” Sol glares at her best friend through the screen, but she’s smiling. By now, students have started trickling in, starting a low murmur of conversation. Sol spots a stranger near the front of the hall carrying a sunflower of their own and she finds herself grinning wider. Lila would be thrilled it's already spreading. Another classmate points silently to the seat currently occupied by Sol’s backpack and she moves it to her lap to give them space. The sunflower tickles her nose.

Maya’s smile grows when she spots it, and she raises an eyebrow. “You’ve been carrying your sunflower around all day? Won’t it need water?”

“It’s only 10 am. Besides, I don’t have time to go back to the apartment, I have class all day!”

Her roommate leans on her elbows to put her face right up near the camera. Her green eyes glimmer with amusement at Sol’s annoyance. “I have class too, remember? But unlike you, I intend on following through with my plans.”

Sol’s jaw almost drops but she slips into a smirk. “Yeah, okay, we’ll see who’s laughing when you miss something important in class today.”

“Oh, don’t worry! I’ll ask my new friend, he always takes good notes. Did I tell you about him? He—”

“I’m hanging up, Maya.” Sol tucks her phone away, and pulls out her laptop. If biology wasn’t going to be the end of her, Maya and her sunflowers would.

--

Sol goes to the library with the sole intention of printing out her lab report. However, just as she turns into the building, she spots the bathrooms and decides to make a detour. It’s only been a few hours since she took the sunflower out of its vase this morning, but late summer heat seems to have taken its toll on the plant. The large flower droops slightly, the thick petals folding in over themselves. 

Carefully, Sol takes a strip of paper towel and lets the water run over it. She squeezes it to let out the excess water, but accidentally lets out too much. Sol clicks her tongue, dissatisfied, and throws it out. Again, she takes another strip, but only pats it instead of squeezing. It seems to do the trick because the damp towel still feels cool on her skin. 

Sol is about to tuck the bottom of the sunflower into the towel when someone clears their throat behind her. “Can you hurry it up? I need to wash my hands.”

Startled, Sol quickly steps to the side, clutching the towel and flower to her chest. “Sorry.” Her heart jumps to her throat and Sol can feel the heat blooming from her neck. She feels her hands betray her, unable to finish wrapping up the sunflower. All she can do is stand, gaze burning into the floor, desperately hoping for the stranger to forget her. The stranger yanks down the paper towel dispenser, each motion pounding into Sol’s forehead as she trained her eyes away.

The stranger raises her eyebrows, eyeing the flower, before letting the door slam shut behind her.

Only when she is certain the bathroom is empty, Sol feels the embarrassment leak out of her limbs into a more manageable frustration. Watching herself in the mirror, she inhales slowly, holds it, then lets it go. The overwhelming wave of panic settles as quickly as it had come.  It’s times like this where she wishes for Maya’s natural charisma. Maybe then she wouldn’t find herself losing all coherence every time something unexpected happened. She doesn’t realize she has been rubbing a golden petal between her fingers until it plucks off the center.

After wrapping the damp towel around the base of the flower, Sol steadies herself and heads out of the bathroom in search of the printers. She has more pressing matters to worry about, after all. She remembers her call with Maya, and curiosity prickles her skin. Why was she getting so dressed up? Sol knows this sunflower act of kindness is just as important to Maya as it is to her, so why was she wasting time elsewhere? Of course, there’s the possibility that Maya has given up on the challenge altogether, but even as the thought enters her mind she brushes it away. The day Maya backs out of a challenge, especially one that she initiated, is the day Sol can learn to breathe instead of panic. 

Just as she has located the printers, mind still racing about Maya, a notification pulls her out of her thoughts.

lila (!! <3): turn around

She does, and the sight of Lila draws the tension from her shoulders at once. Sol’s smile is bright and immediate as she says, “I didn’t know you were close, I would have come found you.”

“I had to drop something off in South Campus so I was just cutting through the library. I see you still have our friend here.” Their friend, the sunflower, says nothing.

Sol slides her card into the printer and watches as it roars to life. “Don’t worry, I’ll pass it along before I come home tonight. It’s going to be perfect.”

“You and your constant need to be the best.” Lila rolls her eyes, but fondly. It twists something in Sol’s sternum.

Sol places a hand on her chest, letting her jaw fall open. “You wound me.”

“It’s supposed to be a simple act of kindness, Sol. You get a sunflower and pass it on to someone who hasn’t had one yet. Spreading positivity, not competition.”

The printer slowly begins to work, the fourteen pages stacking on top of each other in utmost precision. “Maya started it! I had full intentions of passing it on, but she had to make it a thing.” She’s only giving the half-truth and they both know it.

Lila raises her eyebrows. “If you say so.”

“I am truly, truly hurt that you came all the way to the library just to attack me. I’m just standing here, printing out this lab report, and I am being attacked.” She stretches out every word for the greatest effect, and it’s worth it to see Lila’s nose scrunch in amusement.

“You’re being so dramatic, you’re literally proving my point.”

Sol bumps Lila’s shoulder. “I’m serious! Diana will accept my sunflower and the deed will be done. Like I said, it was my idea first!”

When Lila had given Sol the sunflower the night before, after getting overwhelmingly flustered, she had mentioned how she was going to pass the sunflower on to Diana, the TA graduate student in her music theory class. Maya, who was also in the class, had fixed her with a challenging stare and said, “Not if I do it first.” The rest was completely out of her control. So, if anything, this is all Maya’s fault.

“Why do you have to give it to Diana specifically anyways?”

Sol takes her complete lab report and places it in her folder. “Are you kidding me? Lila, do you even know me? Diana is the dream. She was a child star on Broadway, I know all the lyrics in every Broadway show ever. She was a bio major in undergrad, I’m a bio major. She’s now getting her Masters in music theory, I enjoy music theory. I could literally go on forever.” Sol looks at Lila to make sure she understands the sheer gravity of this situation. “I want to be her. This sunflower is the perfect conversation starter!”

“Or you could just go to her office hours like a normal person?” Lila says it as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“That’s the whole problem! Why would she care about any normal person? If I do this, she’ll remember me! She’ll mentor me and talk about me to all her famous friends, it’ll be perfect.”

Lila nods slowly, and Sol thinks she might actually understand. “And why does Maya want this just as badly?”

Sol zips up her backpack with a flourish. “Because Maya makes everything a challenge and she likes to annoy me in every possible way.”

“She’s your best friend, that’s her job.” Lila takes the sunflower from where it’s sitting beside the printer and hands it to her.

“Unfortunately.” A tingle crawls up her spine as their fingers brush. “It’s fine! It was my idea, so I will get there first. Just make sure we have ice cream at home, Maya will need it when she mourns her failures tonight!”

Lila steps back from her, pointing in the opposite direction of Sol’s next class. She shakes her head, amused. “I gotta go. You’re a crazy person, you know that? Both of you are crazy.”

A laugh draws itself from her throat. “You still love us though.”

Instead of chirping back like Sol expects her to, Lila just looks at her, eyes warm. “I do.”

--

Despite her careful planning, Sol only gets to the music room just in time for her music theory class. After leaving Lila at the library, she’d finished lunch and endured an achingly long chemistry lab, only  now making it to class with five minutes to spare. Sol squeezes between the rows to her usual seat in the front. Diana and Maya are nowhere to be found.

Setting her backpack at her feet, Sol draws in a slow breath. One, two, three. Out again. It’s just a flower, a simple act of kindness. Her getting there before Maya is simply a plus and a warning to never challenge her again. She can already see Lila’s exasperated sigh at them, but it only serves to make her smile.

Carefully, Sol takes the long-stemmed sunflower from her bag and lays it across her lap. She holds it with just the tips of her fingers, afraid she'll snap it if she handles it wrong. 

For once, sitting in the front corner pays off. Her bag fits neatly beside her and she can turn in her seat to get a perfect view of the door. The hall fills with muted late afternoon conversations, most people too dazed to sit up straight. The September heat swells both inside and outside, making every move require all her effort. Sol lazily wonders if Maya really went on a date in the middle of the day. Then, at least she knows dinner is covered. Honestly, after lab, all Sol wants to do is bundle up in bed with her laptop and some ice cream. Now that the moment is finally here, she feels the weight of the day pile onto her chest. Her limbs feel syrupy and she lets her head fall back on the wall, eyes flitting closed.

Diana enters with a flourish, as she always does. Her portable speaker plays the first movement of Vivaldi’s Four Seasons as she makes her way to the front of the hall, her bag in one hand and a swath of speckled tissue paper in the other. The conversations fall out as she walks, her blonde hair swishing down her back. Despite being only a few years older than most of them, she carries more authority than half the professors at this school. Oh my god, Sol wants to be her.

At once, the lethargy seeps out of her bones and she sits up in her seat. She cradles the sunflower in her lap. This is it. This is it.

Setting her things down beside the podium, Diana faces the class, her smile wide. “Good—”

The portable speaker suddenly switches from the chirping of violins to the swell of Andrew Lloyd Weber’s All I Ask of You. Sol’s heart drops to her feet. There is one person who listens to Phantom of the Opera as if it is the very source of her life.

Maya throws open the double doors of the lecture hall, her teeth flashing blindingly white. Her old high school prom dress billows around her legs like water. It’s a sheer blue tulle, layered and flowing, and it drags behind her as she struts down the aisle towards Diana. Her hair is in a ponytail high on her head, allowing the fluorescent lights to glint off her star drop earrings.

In her entrance, Sol almost didn’t see a guy trailing behind her, a single sunflower in his hand. Maya meets Sol’s eyes from across the hall and winks. Sol digs her nails into her palms to keep from screaming. 

“Diana!” Maya’s voice echoes, startling both Sol and their TA. “I have something for you.”

Diana chuckles awkwardly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Maya?”

Maya finally meets her at the front of the hall, beaming. “Diana.” She takes the sunflower from the guy, holding out in front of her. “I wanted to—”

In one swift motion, Sol whips out her water bottle and inhales as she takes a sip. The water lodges itself in the wrong tube and in a moment she’s overwhelmed with a coughing fit.

The entire lecture hall turns to her, suddenly drawn from Maya’s spectacle. Sol tries to clear her throat but it only makes things worse and she falls out of her seat. She swallows and there’s a beat of silence. “I’m fine!” The last syllable chokes out of her and sends her into another round. 

Diana and Maya both come up beside her, mirroring worry. It’s Diana who speaks first, crouching beside her. “Sol, are you okay? Do you need to step outside?”

She feels her face heat up profusely, painfully aware of the sheer number of people watching her. Worth it. Her breathing finally evens out and it pulls a small laugh from her. “Yeah, sorry. It went down the wrong pipe.”

Diana flashes her an apologetic smile, helping her up. “Be careful, I really don’t wanna call an ambulance on anyone.”

“Actually,” Sol stands, sunflower in hand and heart pounding with anticipation. “I wanted to give you something.”

Maya’s jaw drops from behind Diana. It’s Sol’s turn to wink. Adrenaline courses through her veins.

“Diana!” Maya steps between them, her hands out in front of her. “I asked first, remember? We’ll finish what I’m doing and then ask Sol.”

“Well, considering I almost died, I think we can make an exception for me, right?” She thinks she hears the beginnings of someone chanting fight, fight, fight, and it only serves to rile her up.

“You’re not dying anymore!”

“Maya—”

“Ladies!” The hall falls silent once again. She looks from them to their respective sunflowers, and a half-pitying half-amused grin pulls at her lips. “I’m flattered but,” She steps back towards the podium and pulls out a single sunflower from the folds of tissue paper she had brought with her. “I was already given one.”

Maya and Sol look back at each other, gaping. A beat of silence. Maya starts laughing first, full of life, and it’s contagious. Sol doesn’t really know what’s funnier, the foolish ends they were willing to go to in order to pass on a flower or that Diana already has one, but it has her laughing so hard she clutches her stomach. Maya hugs her once she’s calmed down, sighing. “I think we’re both a little crazy, right?”

Sol flicks her star drop earrings, grinning wide. “Just a little.”

--

After class, and after a generous apology to Diana, Sol finds herself outside the music building clutching her sunflower. The petals droop slightly with the setting sun and she feels like she should ask for the flower’s forgiveness too.

She bounces on her toes as she waits for Maya to come out, watching the last few stragglers on this side of campus trudge towards the dorms or the buses. She still feels a little silly, but there’s a layer of calm surrounding her now. The news must have already spread because when Sol pulls out her phone, there’s a message at the top. 

lila (!! <3): so much for a random act of kindness. i expect a retelling just as dramatic when you two get home tonight! i can’t believe i’m living with two crazy people.

Lila’s going to have a field day with this when they go home. Sol can’t wait to see her reaction in person. It curls her mouth into a smile.

The only person left is a boy she vaguely recognizes, sitting on the front steps of the music hall. He sits in the last rays of sunlight, bent over his book and chewing his lip, deep in thought.

Sol considers asking where she might know him from. She’ll know it the moment he tells her, it’s on the tip of her tongue, but it feels weirdly violating to ask. Instead, she places her sunflower beside him on the step.

He doesn’t notice at first, still wrapped up in his own world, but when he does, he looks around as if it were meant for someone else. Silently, he points to himself.

“Yeah. Pass it on, okay?”

His smile is surprisingly brilliant for someone of no words.

Her heart swells.

--

a/n: if you read this far, thank you! this is what i wrote for my creative writing final and it’s just a bit of fun. we love dramatic college students.

#ambrosia is writing #writing #my writing #short story #writeblr #solo #wtwcommunity #creative writing #story #sunflower