#I need to get my butt moving and learn my Native language!!!

[count-lucio]

lucio headcanons because i can't help myself. just a warning that these are rather canon divergent, so keep that in mind while reading! anyway, with no further ado-

my objectively correct lucio 'headcanons' (i am normal)

- he has chronic nerve pain from the constant pain + stress his body was under while he had the plague - even after he comes back. he walks with a cane most days, and claims it's for 'fashion' (it very clearly isn't)

- the whole "missing an entire arm" business is a MUCH bigger deal than the way the game shows it- it's a genuine disability, not just a fun character trait. i'm begging you all to consider lucio needing (and wanting) to spend time with his prosthetic off. lucio phantom limb syndrome and phantom pains. lucio struggling to do things that require both hands on occasion and having to relearn everything after getting his prosthetic. lucio being too rough/too strong/etc with his left arm because he can't feel what he's doing. as much as he loves the gold he can't help but feel terribly insecure and incapable because of it sometimes.

- lucio is not even a tenth as stupid as the writers make him out to be for funny haha villain points. he's actually incredibly intelligent and a big fan of studying + reading "just because." he's very literate and articulate, just overexcitable (and maybe slightly over-emotional) and doesn't always express his intelligence in the best way (or stop and think before doing things). he's also fairly talented, and rather proficient in writing and playing piano - the grand piano in the foyer belongs to both him and nadia!!

- same thing goes for what an incompetent leader he's portrayed to be in the game... it's absolutely nonsensical that he alone was in charge of vesuvia for multiple years and that entire time knew nothing and learned nothing about being an effective ruler. perhaps he's not the most responsible leader at all moments and maaaybe he can be a bit. harsh. but i can't see military-tactical, hand-selected-to-rule-vesuvia-lucio being an INCOMPETENT leader.

- also, the previous count, count spada, took lucio in and taught him everything he knew - the game hardly touches on this and it's an absolute crime because i think the two of them had such a close (dare i say father-son) relationship and spada effectively took lucio under his wing and gave him the necessary training to be an effective leader before naming him his heir. the two of them were very... my parents hate me and i don't know what parental love feels like x i never married or had children and i regret it immensely, yknow ?

- his relationship with morga is much more strained than what's portrayed in canon - both her and his father were rather abusive throughout his childhood and he hides in the palace every time she visits vesuvia and makes nadia deal with her for him (i use 'makes' loosely - nadia would do it even if lucio didn't ask. she's not very fond of morga either and is sympathetic to lucio's fear of her).

- speaking of nadia, the two of them really don't hate eachother all that much. their relationship is much more complicated than what's shown in the game (everyone's is, really, it's all a lot more blurry and queerplatonic than what was written to make it work as a romance game) and while they most definitely butt heads quite often, she by no means hates him and they do, actually, get along a fair amount of the time. they have quite a bit in common and work well together. most of the time.

- contrary to popular belief, mercedes and melchior are not unruly and untrained- they're both trained impeccably, just in lucio's native language, making him the only person capable of controlling them. however when it is him in charge, the three of them are a force to be reckoned with (especially when out hunting) and mercedes and melchior move flawlessly alongside him, nearly predicting what he wants without him even having to speak it aloud. they're impeccably behaved- just for him and him alone.

- on the topic of languages- lucio was raised speaking something different than what is spoken throughout the game. there is no direct real-world equivalent but it's... scandinavian in nature. he has the faintest hint of an accent (and no, it isn't a jersey accent) but he's been speaking other languages for so long it's not quite as noticeable as it was during his mercenary days - although it is quite a bit more noticeable when he's drunk, and he's very prone to cursing in his native language.

[lostfirefly]

Just a second, we're not broken, just bent and we can learn to love again

The idea is based on my biggest fight in life and friends who are in relationships. For some reason, I think Buggy might get mad over something like this. Anyway, Sunday is the best time for a long fic :) English is not my native language, errors may occur. As always, feel free to share your thoughts :)

Masterlist is here

Description: Buggy asks Catherine out on a date, and they accidentally run into an old friend of hers.

Warnings: Fun, fluff turn into their big quarrel. Angry Catherine, angry, jealous and pissed off Buggy.

Words: 5415

Buggy x OC from my “You’ve Got the Same Dream as Me” series.

Taglist: @gingernut1314, @operationroots, @hey-august

The title is taken from "Just Give Me a Reason" by Pink feat. Nate Ruess.

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“Cathie-pie, it's only 9 am.” Buggy mumbled into his pillow in a sleepy voice.

“I’m in a good mood.” Catherine was spinning around in the bedroom to the music, moving her butt from side to side. "Don't you dare kill my mood!" 

“What is wrong with you?” Buggy rolled over on his back and rubbed his eyes.

“Nothing! I woke up in a wonderful city that I adore. We’re home and my blue-haired love is with me! Wo-o-o-ho-o-o!” Catherine raised her arms up and spun around her axis. She stopped for a second, looked at Buggy, broke into a smile and threw herself onto the bed with a squeal. “Love!” Smack. “Love!” Smack. “Love, love, love you!!” Smack. Smack. Smack. “I love your nose.” Smack. “I love your gray hair on your temples and eyebrows!” Smack. “I love your painted mouth.” Smack. Smack. 

“Geeez, woman! It's only morning! Stop doing this shit! Stop dancing, twirling and kissing me. Better get in here!” Buggy lifted the blanket and Catherine happily crawled under the covers with her whole body, and stuck her head out.

“Hi! Here I am!” Smack. “You are going somewhere today. Can I come with you?” She settled under his armpit and took his hand. 

“Sorry, cotton candy, but it's a little personal.” Buggy looked at her disheveled hair and placed his chin on the top of her head. 

“Okay, at the end of the day, you need your own space. I don't want to turn into one of those annoying couples who can't live even a minute without each other.”

“What? I can easily live a day without you!”

“Liar!” Catherine frowned playfully. “If I'm not in the room, you come to me in 10 or 15 minutes. Yesterday, I was in the kitchen arranging Indian food on plates. You came to me though I had been out of the living room for 5 minutes. You just can't live without me! And when you're at rehearsals, you constantly send me messages. And by the way, stop asking for naked pictures of me. This won't happen!”

“But why?” Buggy looked at her with upset eyes.

“I'm not going to send you this when you're at work, clown.” Catherine shook her hand negatively. “What if someone sees?”

“So what?” Buggy shrugged. 

“Why do you need my naked photos? I don’t even want to think what you could be doing there, looking at them. I'm lying next to you now, isn't that enough?”

“Doesn't count.” Buggy muttered into her head. “You're in your pajamas. More precisely, in your pants with piglets and my t-shirt. Again.”

“Sorry that this is one of those rare mornings where I luckily woke up dressed.” Catherine blushed. “And after your meeting, what are you gonna do?”

“Hah, I wanted to ask you out on... well... on a date.”

“Seriously?” Catherine suddenly sat on top of him and leaned towards his face. “You haven't invited me anywhere for a long time.”

“We were in the desert, among the pyramids. Where was I supposed to invite you? For dinner in a sarcophagus?” Buggy placed his hands on her back. “Do you understand that you are now in a dangerous position? Why are you doing this? Where's my humble girl?” 

“Your humble girl is here.” Catherine ran her lips over his lips. “Right here.” 

“Fuck this!” Buggy's hands quickly slid under her t-shirt. “You're mine, Cathie-pie! And I’ll prove that to you now.” He kissed her greedily. 

“Na-ah!” Catherine broke the kiss, raised her body and stroked his shoulders. "You had somewhere to go. Get up and go."

“But.. Sex, baby..” Buggy looked confused. “I thought we were go~.”

“You're such a fool.” She pecked him on his nose and snuggled under the blanket. “Nope. Date first. Go away, fucking clown. I wanna sleep some more.”

Catherine didn’t know how not to laugh out loud, watching him get out of bed, muttering under his breath “Little shit!”. 

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Buggy entered a bright room and approached a table at which a green-haired man was sitting. 

“Mister the Clown!” He raised his head: 

“Yeah, me. Is it ready?” Buggy asked quietly. 

“Yes, just a minute.” The man run away somewhere into the storage room. 

Buggy was sitting on a chair and was noticeably nervous. 

The man returned and opened the velvet box. “Everything is as you ordered. Bright, shiny, beautiful, black and with Egyptian vibes. Our designer added a little more drawing here and here, so everything looks more complete.” 

Buggy picked up the box, squinted and carefully turned it in all directions. “Perfect! How much is the total?”

“As I told you yesterday, it turned out to be more expensive than we thought, sir.” The man reached into the table for papers. 

“I don’t care about the money, how much?” Buggy barked. 

“2 million, sir.” 

“Fine.” He took out the card and swiped it through the terminal. 

“Sir, this is a wonderful gift. And whoever this gift is for, anyone will be glad to receive it.” 

Buggy looked at the guy with the corner of his eye. “This is not just a gift for anyone, idiot. This is for my Cathie-pie.”

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Catherine reached the Rosinante bar on Dressrosa Street and looked around. Buggy was nowhere to be seen, and she started to think that she had mixed up the address when the message “turn left” came on the phone. Catherine looked in different directions, but saw no one. She shrugged and walked to the left, grumbling quietly. A new message came on the phone: “to the other left and don’t grumble!”. Catherine turned around, thought a little, and reached into her bag. 

“Damn you and your chop chop shit, idiot!” She mumbled and began to gently tickle Buggy's ear with her fingers. “This is my revenge on you, pervert!” 

Catherine turned the right corner and saw Buggy. 

“You lost something.” She handed him his ear. "Stop leaving your body parts everywhere, clown. When I made you breakfast yesterday, your hands were flying all over the kitchen just to grab something. Bread, cheese, my ass. Don't be lazy and get your butt off the couch. Hi!" Catherine pecked him on the lips, put Buggy's ear back in place and looked around. “What are we doing here? It seems like you called me to a bar, but this is a restaurant.” 

“And this is my surprise.” He smiled and made a come-on gesture with his hand. 

“But I’m dressed like hell, Buggy.” Catherine said with an upset voice and looked at her jeans. “You should warn me, I should at least wear a dress.” 

“Fuck it! You’re always beautiful.” He bent his arm at the elbow and offered it to her. 

“Wow! Today you are Buggy the Gentleman.” Catherine grabbed his hand, and they walked into the restaurant together. 

Catherine looked around. Everything inside looked elegant. Soft light fell on the mahogany walls, there were bas-reliefs on the ceiling and beams, white starched tablecloths on the tables. She was surprised by the oval shape of the restaurant and the fact that it had several floors. All the world's most delicious smells seemed to mingle inside. The room was filled with laughter, voices, the constant clinking of glasses. The place seemed like a small oasis in the middle of the hot city. A place where strangers could become friends for a while, eating delicious food. A place where fairy stories could be trawled until the wee hours of the morning. One of the hostesses greeted them with a warm and wide smile and escorted them to a table.

“Wow. Everything is so beautiful.” Catherine sat down on the semicircular sofa and gently ran her hand along the table. “Are we celebrating something today? We don't have a relationship anniversary, first kiss, or first...you know.” She blushed. 

“Oh, I remember that day. And how you dragged me into the bedroom.” Buggy rolled his eyes dreamily and asked the waitress to bring wine.  

“Said the disgusting man who took me to the airport. Lucky for you, I stayed to punish you!” Catherine stroked his head. 

“Yeah, and you successfully do it every day. Returning to your question, we celebrate nothing. We have a lot of money, why can’t I take you to a restaurant and show my girl to the whole world.” The waitress brought a bottle of the most delicious wine and Buggy immediately poured it into Catherine’s glass.

During the date they laughed a lot. Catherine loved the fact that Buggy could make her laugh until she cried, and this fact sometimes caused her to catch unhappy looks from some of the visitors. Buggy constantly ordered her food and the most expensive wine, almost never taking his eyes off her. She blushed and asked him to stop staring. Throughout the evening, Buggy got angry when something went wrong. When the waiter brought the wrong wine, he threw a tantrum. When they mixed up the dishes, he got angry again. Catherine kept reassuring him that everything was fine. But he wanted the evening to be perfect, not just fine. 

She listened attentively to his stories, trying to understand where the truth ended and his fantasies began. During their dinner Catherine always said that she loved him, that he was handsome and funny. She constantly hugged Buggy, making him blush. At home, when no one saw, he was slowly getting used to her expression of feelings, then in public he sometimes had trouble with it. Yes, he could make a loud dirty joke or grab her ass. But he also said something nice to her. Quietly.  

“I think I'm about to burst.” Catherine patted her belly lightly. “A couple more nights like this, and you'll be rolling me around like a ball. We spent a lot of money here, yeah?” 

“Not a bunch. Just 10000. Baby, we have 350 million in our account, we can eat in restaurants every fucking day.” Buggy took a sip of beer. 

“We can, but I won't let you spend all your money on food and booze.” Catherine placed her head on Buggy’s shoulder. “First, stop grabbing my ass, clown. Second, what's next?”

“It's hard not to try to grab your ass. You're seducing me with your bare shoulders the whole evening. And I'm taking you for a walk.” 

Catherine shook her head and pulled her shirt on. Buggy took her hand and led her for a walk. They wandered along the promenade, listening to the sound of the waves and catching glances from visitors in the small cafes. One of the older women muttered “look the clown took the princess for a walk", Catherine quickly sent her the fuck away and then spent a long time calming the upset Buggy. Later he snatched a cup of lavender ice cream for Catherine, laughing that half an hour ago she was talking about being full and already she was asking for ice cream. 

Catherine dragged Buggy to the beach, sat down on the sand and pulled him along with her. Buggy sat down next to her, and she immediately settled under his armpit. 

Catherine took his hand and began to stroke his palm with her fingers. “It's great, right? Thank you for this evening! I love when we go for walks.” She glanced at Buggy. “Do you think that in old age you will want to hold my hand? I will obviously dry out under the hot sun of Egypt and become a disgusting mummy. You will stop loving me and will leave to look for a younger mummy.” 

“You will be the most beautiful old mummy in the world!” Buggy became nervous. “You know.. I would like us to be.. to be together. I don’t know. When I will be 80 years old, I want to eat your pancakes, chewing them with false teeth.” 

Catherine laughed. “You look sexy even now with gray hair on your eyebrows and temples, but all gray hair and with false teeth, you will make a splash!” 

“Listen.. About being together.” Buggy cleared his throat. “Cathie-pie, you know I lo~.”

“I know.” She nodded. 

“Don't interrupt me, woman! And you love me.”

“Not just love! I love you so-o-o much!” Catherine sat on her knees and spread her arms wide to the side. “You know, I thought that if I fell in love when I was over 30, I would be calm. See? You blew my head off, Buggy Bear.” She cupped his face and pecked him on his lips several times. 

“I still insist that this is a terrible, terrible nickname, by the way.” Buggy cleared his throat again and took her hands. “But.. I wanted to ask you. You.. You… Do you wa~...” 

“Shatter me with thunder! Catherine Elizabeth Mitchell!” A man's voice came from somewhere to the side. Catherine turned around and her jaw dropped. 

“Larnie?!” She jumped up and ran to a tall, pumped up dark-haired guy and hugged him. “What are you doing here?” 

“Are you asking me?” He kissed her on the cheek and raised her above the sand.  “We haven’t seen each other for how long? About 5 or 7 years? And of all the possible places on the planet, I find you on the beach in Cairo!” He put her down and kissed again.

“Life is unpredictable, right?” Catherine laughed. 

“At first it seemed to me that it wasn't you, but then I heard your loud laugh, which I cannot confuse with anything. How.. What.. How.. How did you end up here?” Larnie shook her hands. 

Catherine carefully nodded towards Buggy, who was watching this whole situation with a not very happy face. “It's a long story, but over there sits my main reason. Buggy, come here! This is Larnie! We went to school and university together. Larnie, this is my Buggy.”

Buggy reluctantly stood up and came closer to Catherine, pulled her closer and immediately wrapped his hand around her waist, marking the territory. 

“No! You have to tell me everything! We haven't seen each other in a thousand years! The last time I saw you, you wanted to marry the marshmallow man.” Larnie scratched his cheek. 

“Hah, yes. But the marshmallow man lost in an unequal fight with this man.” Catherine stroked Buggy’s back.

“No, no! We're going somewhere to drink. You, me and... Biggy, right?” 

“Buggy.” He answered dryly. 

“Wait a sec, Larnie!” Catherine took Buggy's hand and led him aside, asking if he wanted to go somewhere. Buggy didn't want to go, but he looked into her eyes, exhaled heavily, and agreed. Catherine jumped up with a squeal and smacked him several times on the cheek. 

They reached Arlong's Bar and sat down at a table.  Larnie looked around for a long time and was surprised at the fish people.

“When I first saw them, I had the same reaction.” Catherine laughed loudly. “It was so strange. Fish people drinking alcohol. But I'm so happy I was brought here. Oh, oh, Larnie! See the bar counter? Near it I met Buggy.” Catherine stroked Buggy's back and opened the menu. “Oh, my love. Can you order me this?” She pointed at the drawing of the blue velvet cake. 

“Ok.” Buggy stopped the fish waiter, ordered dessert, beer and wine. He practically kept his eyes on Larnie. Catherine smiled back at Buggy and silently said with her lips “I love you.”

“Can't believe it! My little friend Catherine is in a relationship. You're a lucky man, Buggy. That girl had so many guys chasing after her, but this is not surprising she has always been a cheerful laugher. But she'd just sit with her books. Sometimes they managed to ask her out, but it always ended the same way. I thought she'd end up with books or a boring, pimply librarian. But our little Catherine surprised everyone.” Larnie chuckled, called the waitress and ordered several bottles of beer for himself and Buggy and a bottle of wine for Catherine. “Oh, do you remember when I asked you out? I think it was freshman year, right? You know, dude, I somehow thought that girl liked me, because she was kind to me and asked her to the park.”

“Meh.” Buggy chuckled and poured Catherine's wine from the bottle he had ordered.

“Because you lost our tickets to the movie.” Catherine laughed. 

“Hey, I bought popcorn in the park! Anyway, she said I wasn't for her, she needed someone higher level and we stayed friends. Good friends. I whined to her every time I got dumped by a girl. So, Cath, tell me what you're doing now.” Larnie took a sip. 

“Me? Nothing.” Catherine placed her hand on Buggy's shoulder. “Buggy runs a circus.” 

“Really? The circus?” Larnie looked at him and frowned. 

“Yeah. Do you have any problems with that?” Buggy crossed his arms and practically drilled Larnie with his eyes. 

Catherine took Buggy’s hand and started stroking his arm. “The most famous circus around here. If you're in Cairo for the long haul, I suggest you go and watch the show the day after tomorrow. And there will be a new show in three months. I'm looking forward to it!”

“The show?” Larnie asked again with interest. “I'll think about it. Now I'm wondering what it is that has won over our little Catherine.” 

“Stop calling me little!” Catherine ate a piece of cake. 

“Have you seen yourself in the mirror lately? But anyway. I haven't been to the circus in a long time. Are you coming? Maybe I'll join you?” Larnie took a sip.

“Of course, I'll go!” Catherine looked at Buggy, offered him a cake, but he refused. 

“Well, that's settled then, I'll go with you.” Larnie chuckled. “Oh! Remember when you and I went to the circus when we were kids. It'll be cool to reminisce about those days, right? So, what's your row? Which one should I buy a ticket for? Buggy, do you think there are any tickets left?”

“She always has the best seat.” Buggy took a sip. “And I have no idea, go to the fucking ticket office tomorrow and check. But I'm afraid all the seats are already taken.” 

“Ok, I’ll check. So wait, Catherine. You're really not working?”

"She doesn't need to work.” Buggy barked, opened the third bottle of beer and also refilled Catherine’s glass with wine. “I can provide for her myself.”

“I'm tired of my boring job as a librarian, and I'm completely happy with my life now.” She rested her head on Buggy's shoulder. “Buggy takes care of me.” 

Larnie smirked. “I have to admit, Catherine Mitchell, I haven't seen your eyes light up like that in a long time. Hm, I think, I’ve never seen you so happy.”

“Blame it all on him.” Catherine stroked Buggy’s arm. “This man made me like this. Wait! I heard that you were going to marry Haeley! What happened?”

Larnie waved his hand. “Oh, this ginger girl ran away from me to the blond cook. And I came here to lick my wounds. And I met you!”  

They sat at the bar for quite a long time, sipping beer and wine, reminiscing about old stories. Catherine laughed loudly all evening, glancing at Buggy, who was clearly unhappy with what was happening all evening and constantly snapped.

Catherine and Buggy returned home quite late. 

“Funny, right? Meeting an old friend in another country.” She took off her sneakers. “Are you okay?” 

“Yes." Buggy threw the keys on the table, but missed.

“Someone is drunk and jealous!!” Catherine smiled and hugged him from behind. 

Buggy silently took her hands away and went into the kitchen, swaying. Catherine narrowed her eyes, tiptoed to the kitchen and watched as he opened another bottle of beer, sitting down on the chair.

She came up behind him and gave him a hug. “My Buggy Bear is sad! His Cathie-pie might cheer him up?”

“I’m tired, Catherine.” Buggy pulled her arms away and slowly went into the living room.

Catherine waved her arms and followed him. “You're sulking like a pissed cat. What did I do? Why are you mad?” 

“I'm not mad.” He took a sip. 

“You walk around the house with squinted eyes and a clenched jaw. Is it because of tonight? Oh my god, Buggy!” Catherine rolled her eyes. “I haven't seen a friend in almost ten years. Sorry, I couldn't scare him off with a machine gun or your Buggy Fluggy bombs or whatever you call them. I'm sorry that I had and still have friends. And I'm sorry that I'm glad to see someone I haven't seen for a bunch of years. What was I supposed to say? Oh, sorry Larnie, my boyfriend is too jealous, I can’t look at anyone now, and I also can’t sit next to anyone.”

“Sit with whoever and wherever you want, Catherine. Even with your fucking Larnie.” He took another sip of beer and could barely stand on his feet. “Oh, you know, Buggy, I once went on a date with your girlfriend. Oh, Buggy, did you know that a flock of handsome men were running after her? Oh, l’ll go with your girl to the circus. Or maybe we can ride off into the sunset together and leave this red-nose loser alone? Because she needs someone at a higher level. I know perfectly she needs someone at a higher level.” 

“What are you talking about? I don't need anyone.” Catherine came closer and tried to hug him. “Let's talk, please.” 

“I’m gonna sleep. Tomorrow is a full day rehearsal. Everything should be perfect. What if your fucking Larnie’ll show up, I’ll have to impress him, right? Oh, little Catherine, I want to know what you’re up to. Oh, what a shame. You chose a fucking loser and even his shows are terrible. So sorry for you.” He took another sip. “Fuck, the floor is moving.” 

“Sit down, you're drunk. First, you're not a loser.” Catherine felt herself starting to get angry. “Second, can you imagine, clown, I had a life before you. And yes, I went on dates from time to time. Just remember, I chose you! Do you see any guys I want to run away with? Hey! Where are you? Maybe you're in the closet?” She went to the closet in the bedroom and opened the doors. “No one. Or maybe in the nightstand under the TV?” She opened the TV set cabinet. “No one! Surprise! You've been rude all evening, Buggy. And if you haven't noticed, I spent the entire evening showing poor Larnie that I was with you. Should I have stood on the table and rang the bell? Hello, people of Cairo. I’m Catherine and I’m with this clown. We just sat at the bar and that's it!” 

“Why the fuck would you choose this bar out of all the fucking bars in Cairo? Wasn't there another one?” Buggy hissed through his teeth. 

“What?” Catherine looked at him uncomprehending.

Buggy didn't answer. He looked at her angrily, set the bottle on the table and went to the bedroom, slamming the door loudly. 

Catherine stood for a few minutes, opened the door, knocking softly and watching him lay under the blanket with a dissatisfied growl. “Can I come in?” 

Catherine tiptoed to the closet, quickly changed into pajamas and climbed into the bed. She lay down behind Buggy and hugged him. He gently pulled her hands away. Catherine exhaled and covered herself with the blanket. Okay, she decided she'd try to talk to him in the morning. 

For the next two days, they didn't speak. The morning after the arguing, Catherine made Buggy apologetic pancakes, but it did help to improve his mood. Usually he was very clingy in the morning. But not this time. He ate breakfast in silence and left, saying nothing. No “goodbye, my Cathie-pie”, no “see you later, little shit”, no inappropriate jokes. She gave him a quick “have a nice day” kiss on his cheek but Buggy said nothing. She hoped he would start sending her messages every hour like he used to. Usually it was silly, but funny messages like "Richie yawned”, “Richie ate grass”, “Cabaji fell off his bike”, “And now look at the pain on his face." But Buggy didn't send anything, he didn't respond to her messages either. When Buggy got home, he sat in the kitchen, eating dinner and sipping a beer. And didn't talk to her. 

On the second day after arguing, Catherine thought for a long time about going to the show or not. She was not very happy with his behavior, but she realized that she overreacted too. 

Yes, they'd argued about various things during their relationship, but they'd made up quickly, even though they'd been as stubborn as sheep at times. But this quarrel did not please her at all, and Catherine felt disgusted. She'd never seen Buggy so pissed off. But why was he so mad?

Catherine was sipping her coffee and widened her eyes. “Oh, shit!”

The bar! That's why he got angry. They were in their place. 

“Fuck!” She thought.

Why had she brought Larnie there? Why hadn't she thought that this place had a special meaning to Buggy? Of course, it was special to him. She was the first person who didn't run away from him with cries of disgust, the first who accepted him with all his faults. With his grumbling, whining and driving her crazy. The first who said she loved him. She became his shelter from the world. And he met her there. 

“Stupid Catherine.” She muttered to herself, dressed up and went to the circus. Despite the arguing, she wanted to support him. As always. 

Catherine didn't expect Larnie to wait for her at the entrance, offered to drink before the show and to go for a walk after it. She refused politely, showed him where to go and quickly went to her seat. Catherine was glad that he didn't find a ticket next to her and didn't even want to imagine what would happen in another case.

Catherine sat in her seat (of course, it was the center of the front row) and waited for the show to start. She saw Buggy walk out into the arena with his arms spread out, bathing in the applause of the audience. Her flashy fool under his favorite spotlights. Buggy noticed Catherine, and she thought for a second that he was surprised to see her there. Actually, it was the first time in two days that they met gazes. Catherine raised her right hand slightly and said "hi" with her lips. But.. Nothing happened in response. Buggy usually winked at her. When he bowed at the beginning and the end of the show, he always made a small pass at the front row and always stopped in front of her for a few seconds longer to hear a quiet "I love you" from her. Catherine liked that little show of love and intimacy at moments like these. But this didn't happen this time. She was a little confused. During an act change, one of the freaks brought her a large bucket of popcorn. Catherine threw a glance at Buggy, and thought she saw a slight smile on his face. After the show, which was of course well received by the audience, Catherine waited for Buggy for a while. One of the freaks said he was busy, she exhaled sadly, saying “okay” and went home, trying not to cry.

Catherine was sitting on the couch sipping wine when she heard the jingle of keys. Buggy walked into the living room, holding a bouquet of blue roses, sat down next to her on the floor without saying a word. 

Catherine took the bouquet, put it on the table and ran her hand along his back. “Stole flowers again?” She asked quietly. 

Buggy nodded and laid his head on her lap, hugging her legs. “You'll leave me, right? You will leave me to live in the fucking marshmallow house.”

“If I had to leave, I'd gnaw my way back in the marshmallow house and return to you.” She started stroking his head. “I'm sorry. I ruined our evening.”

“You came to see my show. Without him.”

“Of course I came. Because I love you. It was amazing, as always. I’m so proud of you, Buggy the Clown. And you won't believe me, but there were three girls sitting behind me sighing at you. When you brought me popcorn, I swear, your fangirls were ready to kill me.” Catherine kissed his head. 

“Liar, I don't have fangirls.” Buggy giggled and climbed onto the sofa, laying his head on her lap again, took her hand and kissed it. “Hi.” 

“Hi.” Catherine kissed his nose. “No, you have. Look at you! You're so handsome and funny. God, I'm so lucky to have you. Do you know how difficult it was not to fall in love with you at first sight?” She ran her hand through his hair. “I was waiting for you, but one of your freaks said you were busy. I thought you were mad at me, or disgusted to look at me.”

“No! No, no, no! Richie's food arrived. The fucking courier got the time wrong and I had to do the paperwork. I sent Cabaji to tell you to wait for me, but he said that you left.” Buggy squeezed her hand. “And baby. Disgusted? Seriously? You're beautiful even now, when your hair is dishevelled, and you're sitting like an upset raccoon in your pants with.. Who is this?” 

“I’m not a raccoon, jerk! And this is a kangaroo.” Catherine smiled slightly and started stroking his face. “I’m sorry, please. I just didn't think with my brain that you were a romantic at heart.” She giggled. “Agree, let this bar be just ours. Let's go there tomorrow? Just you and me.” She kissed his forehead, watching him nod. “You know, I even know why I like this place so much. Because one day I met a blue-haired brute there. He grumbled at me and wanted to leave me in the desert. But somehow he became the love of my life. That’s why I want to take everyone there and show that special place where we met. I don't want you to think that all this doesn't matter to me. It does. It really does.” 

“Well, you can bring your sister there.” Buggy shrugged. 

“Deal. I'll let you take your friends there. But not ex-girlfriends.” 

“Then you'll have to kick a couple of waitresses out of there. We didn't meet, but there was something. If you know what I mean.” He giggled idiotically. 

“Oh, go to hell, clown.” Catherine playfully slapped his shoulder. “I can live with that. I'm still better than all of them put together. You've got the best of everything. The show, the popcorn, the house. So, I'm the best by default.”

“You forgot to mention the best sex.” Buggy looked at her with a proud face. 

“I knew that phrase would stick in your head, pervert. I just had to tell you that once.” Catherine rolled her eyes playfully. 

“Well, sorry, I can't get over my awesomeness.”

“Idiot!” She pecked him on his nose. “I think this was our biggest fight, right? But look how good we are! Our crew made it through even that. I love when you're jealous, but I don't want to fight like that anymore. Let's continue swearing about little things. Crusts on the bread, you drank all the milk, you broke all the eggs, you're not wearing pants.” 

“Cotton candy, it's hard not to be jealous. You are smart, beautiful. But you chose the loser.” Buggy became sad. 

“Okay, be jealous, I can't change you anyway. But don't say horrible things about yourself. You're not a loser. You're not a pathetic clown. You're my Buggy Bear. And I want to live with you in the marshmallow house. And let's talk more.” Catherine rested her forehead against his. “Come on. Help me make some tea, I warm up the pancakes I made for you, and you tell me about those waitresses, okay? My hot clown and girls in short skirts. Hmmm, I'm actually getting a little jealous.” She ruffled his hair, stood up from the couch, shook her buttocks to cheer Buggy up and dragged him into the kitchen. 

They made tea, took the pancakes and went to the bedroom. 

That night they talked.

[nakamopapina]

I’m gathering stuff for my other blog in advance, and learned two things, that I MUST share:

1) The origin of Moose Jaw’s name was because 'moscâ-' in ‘moscâstani-sîpiy ‘, sounded a lot like ‘Moose Jaw’,

moscâstani-sîpiy is Cree for ‘A warm place by the River’!

and 

2) Regina’s Original name, was considered ‘too scandalous’, to be used as a name for a Territorial Capital. 

Which I can understand because the original name was ‘Pile of Bones’, which came from the Cree word  ‘oskana ka-asastēki’, and it means ‘The place where bones are piled up’. So... uh yeah, probably not the best choice for the name of a Territorial Capital... 

But we still named our lake Wascana, which means, ‘Buffalo Bones’! So there’s that!

The more you know!

[spaghettificationandpretzels]

The Reaper and the Death Angel Part 3

I really just wanted to focus on Jax and the reader this chapter. I'm learning my county's sign language but ASL will be featured occasional from now on, as someone who wants to work with at risk children, I think that sign should be totally normal and a part of everyday life.

Part 2

Series Masterlist

Warning: It's getting into it now, brief mentions of a mass grave and the gemstone industry. If I miss any, please let me know.

2.7K Words

Comment if you want to be tagged in this series.

First meetings and first troubles.

The front door was open when he pulled into the driveway but he couldn't see you, he was about to get off and come in when you walked out.

He felt as if his breath had been stolen from his chest, then suddenly, he couldn't hear the birds singing or the roar of other bikes. His whole world shrunk down to just you, standing on your front lawn.

At that moment, Jax could swear there was a god.

His legs operated without his say, it was as if you were pulling him in like a siren, daring him to dash himself on the rocks. The other guys were there, he just didn't see them.

"Hello Darlin", you offed him a reserved smile and put your hand out for him to shake.

"Mr Teller?" Your handshake was firm, he felt like he was floundering, he was second-guessing every move he made.

"You are quite the charmer, aren't you?" Your face was impassive, he couldn't tell whether you were flirting with him or insulting him. He knew he felt exposed, your eyes raked over his figure like a scientist dissecting an alien, he saw no desire in your face.

He was utterly lost.

"Excuse me Mr Teller, I have to say hello to everyone." you never offered anything, he always prided himself on being able to read most women like an open book, but you were a mystery and he had a feeling that he wouldn't be able to let it go until he figured you out.

You signed to your Brother.

"Is anyone hearing impaired?" He shook his head.

At least you didn't have to speak and sign simultaneously.

"Hello all, welcome to our home. I asked my Brother not to rope anyone into unpaid labour but it's clear he can't help himself. I am grateful for your help, although the only things I need to be unpacked are all my books. You are more than welcome to explore the grounds and the house, as long as the door isn't locked, please make yourself at home."

"Mr Teller, would you like to help me unpack my books?" You chose to ignore the looks he was getting.

"Please Darlin, call me Jax." you smiled at him but it wasn't big enough for him to learn anything.

"Ok Jax, thank you."

You had taken the time to take them all in, it was clear they were on their best behaviour. Your Brother had already given you any information on their personality that you needed, you had a feeling you would have favourites way the end of the day.

"Are you always this proper?" Sam was right, you already didn't like Tragger.

"Of course, I don't know any of you. Why would I be familiar?" your tone became more pointed.

"Just a few things before you guys head in. Do not wear shoes in my home, if I catch you wearing shoes, I will make you wash my floorboards. If you smoke tobacco in my home, you will never be welcome inside again, this is not a comfort issue this is a health concern." Everyone seemed to accept that.

"If you wish to smoke, there is an ashtray by the back door, I ask that you please go to the back of the property, you will see a covered stone bench where you can sit down. If I ever find any cigarette butts I will take them and test them for DNA and you will never be allowed on the property again, this is classed as a nature reserve and I can not have our precious native animals consuming litter." Your intention was to seem harsh and overbearing, you had no idea if you could trust these please to do what you asked.

"I agree with my Sister, so don't come crying to me if you don't listen and she follows through." You looked around and saw a lot of stunned faces.

Good, I have the upper hand.

"Any questions?" No one spoke up, you hoped you had made yourself clear.

You waved your hand at Jax to direct him to the moving truck.

He was pretty sure he was in love.

"Everything is labelled well, the boxes and the bookshelves are colour coded. Books at the top of the box go on the top shelves and so on. I'm more than happy to help you anytime you need, but I'll be in the room unpacking myself so you won't have far to go to ask."

You spoke at an even pace, maybe a little fast but Jax appreciated the added detail. He was struck by the darkness of your eyes, it was like staring into a black night sky.

"Ok?" you were looking at him with concern, he realised that he had been staring at you slack-jawed for God knows how long.

"Yeah sorry, I'm not really a morning person." he got a sympathetic smile, it made his chest feel warm.

"Honestly neither am I. I don't feel like an actual human till at least ten, and that's after like six coffees." Jax could see a bit of your personality now, he liked what he saw.

You directed him to what boxes to lift and then how to stack them so you wouldn't have to make too many trips from the door to your library. He watched your face intently and didn't miss the microscopic look of fascination on your face when you watched him lift heavy box after heavy box. But again, he didn't see desire, he felt like you were trying to get a look at his insides through his skin. It wasn't unpleasant or uncomfortable, he just felt very exposed. If he had to guess, he would say you weren't even fully aware of it.

The library was beautiful. It was two stories with a railing where the ground floor ceiling would have been. The bookshelves were white, and unlike what he had seen of the rest of the house, it was carpet rather than wood.

There was a massive floor to ceiling bay window looking out into the grove of trees on the property. There was a lounge and a chair in the centre of the room, and cases filled with what looked like rocks and very old books in the open spaces. He didn't miss the deep breath you took when you walked in, he could already detect the telltale smell of old paper and glue.

"What made you ask Sam to prospect?"

Wow, you didn't bother with small talk.

"I don't know, I liked him and thought he would be a good fit." Jax was reminded of your frankness over the phone and thought he would treat you with the same respect.

"Actually, he almost sent a guy to the ER after he tried to attack my Mother so we kind of had to ask him." You giggled behind your hand.

Oh, he liked that sound.

"Sorry, I shouldn't laugh. Samual can be prone to unnecessary violence in those circumstances." The ting of your phone pulled you away. He could see the excitement coming over you.

"I'm sorry, that's William. He's come to drop off my dogs." you were rushing out the door before he could respond.

He followed you to your driveway, he watched you give Billy a quick hug before fussing over the two medium-sized Pitbulls that were wagging their butts with excitement.

What a smile.

Jax almost felt bad just watching you, like he was seeing something that wasn't meant for him, at least not yet. Happy was moving from foot to foot when you called him over. He watched you introduce him to your dogs, he could see that you were delighted by Happy's interest in them.

"Sorry about that Jax, it's only been a few days since I've seen them but it feels like forever. If it's ok with you we can head back upstairs and keep packing?"

You didn't even need to ask.

****

The library has been set up by the mid-afternoon, you and Jax got along great. He would ask questions about all the books he was unpacking and then his attention drifted to the display cabinet in the middle of the room.

"What are all these?" It was so strange, the tingle of excitement was gone and you were back to being cool and impassive.

"Rocks and minerals, I've spent a lot of time right next to gem mines and the locals are always very grateful for the work we do so they give us things to take home." Jax wondered why you closed up so quickly.

"What did you do in all these places?" You paused from unpacking and looked over at him.

"Nothing fun, with gemstones often comes civil war and death. When jewellery companies buy these bits of land, they want to come across as caring about the country so if they find a mass grave, they hire people like me so they like look like they give a shit." He could almost feel your rage, but you still seemed totally unaffected.

"I'm guessing you're not a big jewellery person then?" You emphatically shook your head.

"Some, I like precious metals as long as I know that they've been mined ethically but I can't look at a precious stone no matter where it comes from." From the small amount your Brother had said about your work, Jax could understand that you have seen a lot of suffering.

The last book was put on the shelf and you were directing Jax to the kitchen.

"Now, in this house, if you don't help prepare the food you don't eat. I'm no one's maid. I'll show you what needs to be done and answer any questions you have, no matter how silly you think they are."

You made sure everyone was looking at you and listening.

"There will be no 'I don't know what I'm doing' or nonsense like that. I hate it when people insult their own intelligence, if you genuinely can't do it I will find something you can do."

You could see that some of them were very unimpressed; Gemma, on the other hand, looked like she would burst out into song.

You're going to fit right in.

"All good?" there were some nods and grunts and you started to show them around the kitchen. When everyone knew their job and were paying attention to their task, you pulled Gemma into the greenhouse room.

"Sammy tells me you like to garden so I figured you could work in here for the afternoon? I just need these seeds sowed and those seedlings put into those pots." Gemma assessed the space and got to work. You were a little too busy to stop and speak to everyone individually and Gemma got the impression you didn't really like being around people.

"Thank you, Ma'am." Gemma walked over to you from the pot she was tending.

"I can tell the guys are going to like you but you've got to relax a bit, no one's going to bite you." Her tone didn't leave much room for protest.

"And please call me Gemma, Ma'am makes me feel like an old maid." You smiled at her. You knew how these subcultures worked, getting the matriarch's approval was very important, especially for other women.

"Thank you Gemma."

****

Dinner prep went really well, and everyone did what was asked of them without slacking. You made sure to thank each person and complement their work, you could tell that some of them weren't used to being told they did a good job.

"Mr Ortiz, can you please come and help me with the bread dough?"

Juice practically ran over to you.

"You don't need to be so polite, Juice is fine." what struck you about Juice was how gentle he seemed, you wondered if he was a good fit for the life of an Outlaw Club.

"Ok Juice. All I need you to do here is fold in the butter, to a bit at a time and make sure it's all mixed before you add more" You showed him how to do it then watched him do it so you knew he understood.

"You're very good at that" you made sure you sounded genuine.

"Well, I'm a mechanic so I hope so."

He was shy

"There are plenty of mechanics who can't cook for shit. Don't dismiss yourself, baking is hard." Juice was turning a little red so you left him to collect himself.

You walked over to the stove to talk to Happy.

"How's your mum doing." Happy kept stirring the pot while he spoke to you.

"Much better, thanks to you. I know you won't admit it but paying the bill really helped."

You cast him a coy glance.

"Not on pain of death."

You moved on to Chibs next.

"Do you like spicy food?" He was browning some spices for a curry, it seemed like he had done it before.

"Aye Lass, my favourite is the butter chicken for the Indian place on 5th."

"Well you're doing great."

Jax was after Chibs, having finished cutting up the vegetables he was sitting reading a book from the library.

"Can you please help me with the dinner table?" Jax got up and followed you into the other room.

It was simple, there was a large round table in the middle and some indoor plants around the space. You explained to him how to extend it out while you pulled more chairs from a cupboard.

"Do you have a thing for King Arthur?" you gave him a funny look.

"I went through that phase in high school, I like this table because the sections spin so no one is reaching over to grab food."

You showed Jax how parts of the table spun when pushed.

"That makes a lot more sense."

****

Everyone was sitting down eating, there wasn't much talking which you took as a good sign.

"Is everyone enjoying the food?" There were nods and fulled mouthed yeses all around.

"I didn't even know half this stuff existed?" Tig has pilled his plate high with everything that was on the table.

"Well, I would have done something a lot more simple but Little Brother did the shopping and it's all his favourites."

Gemma laughed

"What exactly are we eating?" Clay sounded kind of put out.

You went through each one, pointing out where they came from and a bit about how you learnt the recipe.

"There are some clean containers ready to go, I'll bring them over and you can all get some left-overs, Sam can bring the containers back here when you're done with them."

The was a bit of a rush in the air, you turned to Gemma.

"Let me guess, when it comes to food it's either the quick or the dead?" Everyone started to laugh, Juice almost choked on some soup.

****

There weren't many left-overs to speak of, but you two hid in the kitchen while they fought over the scraps, per Gemma's advice.

"What do you think of the Club?" You knew this was coming sooner or later.

"All good things so far, everyone has been very nice." Gemma seemed to take you at your word but something was still a little off

Momma bear

"We should bring in the dessert, they should be done by now" She went to the fridge to get it out and carried it into the other room.

Dessert was another quiet affair, you couldn't tell if they were really enjoying themselves or just getting tired.

"If everyone is done, I think we'll call it a night. I'm ready to fall asleep at the table."

They helped you clean up before they left, each one thanking you for the food and for letting them into your home. Jax was the last to leave, he told everyone he wanted to thank you especially for all the work you've done for the Club.

"Thank you again for everything you did over the last year, I think you saved us from some pretty bad situations." he was looking from your face to his feet like a teenage boy.

"I had to keep Sammy safe, helping the Club was just a bonus." Sam had long gone to bed by the time you two were done talking.

He was putting on his shoes to leave when you said your final goodbye.

"May I give you a hug? You're the reason Sam's so happy so I think you've earnt it."

Jax opened his arms and pulled you into an embrace.

You had never felt so safe with a person you met less than 24 hours ago.

You didn't have the energy to consider the implications.

Part 4

[causeimhappinesss]

May I please get a smut of RE4 Leon and an Australian GF? Where the GF always wears very short shorts because the heat of July is more humid in America than Australia? ...Sorry if it is too much....

Pairing: Leon S. Kennedy x reader

Warnings: smut + wrap your biscuit, please.  

Disclaimer: I’m french and even if I’m learning English for ten fucking years, it’s not perfect and I’m sorry if there are spelling or grammar mistakes. If English is your native language (or if you’re bilingual), I would really appreciate it if you could help me by correcting my errors. Just don’t be too harsh, please. :) 

And of course, I’m sorry I made you wait so long... :(

***

For sure, Leon hated Spain. How could it be great like people keep saying? The only things he saw there were: bad weather, zombies/crazy people, giants, monsters, blood, guts, etc. Nothing fantastic! Now that he was in America, a few months later, he was under the sun, in his girlfriend’s garden. He tried to help Y/N with her gardening, but he was clearly better at killing BOW’s than saving plants and flowers… And now, the pretty little Australian was just in front of him, leaning over her roses, her butt up, her short fitting closely those two cheeks he liked to grab and slap… On top of that, she chose the shorter of all the one she had. The blond could only admire the beauty of her curves, her body, on which sweat beaded and made her skin glowing under the sunlight… Delicious. Sexy. Hot. Definitely, she was all those adjectives.

He was certain she kept doing this to make him hard, because the only excuse she found was: “July is more humid in America than Australia” …

More humid… My ass! He thought. He didn’t really believe her. The only humid thing he could imagine right now was her pussy, aching for his half hard cock. His member confined in his boxers, he breathed calmly, a half-ecstatic smile drew itself on his face. His azure gazed glued on her ass… His licked his lips to moisture them and exhaled.

Saying he wasn’t enjoying his holidays would be a complete lie.

And now, he wanted to fuck her.

Exactly like he did in the morning, a wake-up sex. Exactly like he did last night. Exactly like he did every other day.

Then, he stood up from his deckchair, came closer to her and slid his calloused hand on one of her rounded cheeks. He slaped it and she jumped, startled. She turned around, to punch him in the arm.

“You scared me! Sometimes, you’re a real asshole! You know that?”

“Yes, m’am, but your favorite asshole” he retorted, with a playful smile.

“Don’t smile like that, I just want to punch you more.”

“Just like I wanna kiss you and fuck you even more…”

The Australian woman shook her head, infuriated by his words, but a light smile curling her lips betrayed her. Of course, Leon’s observer eyes didn’t miss a single movement, he knew she was only trying to resist the urge to kiss him and to ride his rod like she seems to adore.

Suddenly, he grabbed her and threw her on his shoulder, getting back in the house he left thirty minutes ago. He let her fall on the grey couch of her living room, pushed himself against her, then glided his hands under her shirt. He refused to waste time. Then, he placed a multitude of kisses on the feverish skin of the young woman, her neck with thin skin, her chest covered with a lace bra. He hurried to unclip it, while the young woman busied herself with caressing his perfectly shaped chest, his protruding muscles. Her little hands got rid of the pants he was wearing, before stroking the erection stuck in his boxers, which was waiting for one thing: deliverance. Hard as a rock, Leon could no longer bear the fabric on his member and, Y/N understood, since she took off his last garment. At the same time, he took the opportunity to remove the shorts of the Australian. The man descended his kisses on the hardened nipples of the young woman, licking them, nibbling them, tearing out sighs of pleasure and desire from his girlfriend. Finally, he started to kiss the belly of the young woman, up to his privacy covered by her black lace panties. His teeth slid her down her legs, before it littered the floor. His expert fingers slid over the private parts of the young woman, in search of her clitoris, which he tickled with fervor. His thick fingers found her hole, which they slid slowly into, before picking up speed. Quickly, she felt overwhelmed with pleasure, wanting to feel that hard cock to take her in the most primitive way.

“Leon… Oh God…”

“Didn’t know I was your god, babe” he joked.

Without wasting time, her hands wrapped around the thick cock of the blond, coming to make movements back and forth. She insisted on his glans reddened by the immense wave of desire that rippled over the man's body, then with her other hand, she tickled his balls. Eyes half-closed, he watched the beautiful girl in her acts. Finally, he removed his fingers from her pussy and offered her the control.

Now, straddling him, she leaned over his penis and kissed it, from the base to the glans. She insisted on the tip, the most sensitive part of the man. She took him in her mouth, to give him a blowjob, feeling his penis tap deep in her throat, as she tried to perform back and forth movements. With his eyes closed, his hands in the young woman's shaggy hair, he encouraged her in his movements. He felt like he was in Heaven, he couldn't deny it. Hoarse growls passed the barrier of his lips and this time he didn't care if he was a bit loud. And if someone was around, that person could smell sex in the atmosphere...

Finally, she rubbed the outstretched cock against her wet pussy, which begged him to fuck with force. But sometimes, she liked to play and to make them wait, to be sure they would be so exciting, that sex would be insane… Her wetness coated his cock who twitched, so eager to be inside of her.

“Y/N… Stop playing, come on!”

“Be patient.”

“Patient, huh? If you don’t ride my cock right now, let me tell you something… You’re not gonna walk straight for a week and when you’ll walk, people are gonna confuse you with a kangaroo!”

A smile stretched her plump lips. She just pushed his fat cock inside of her need, warm and wet pussy.  A moan passed the barrier of her lips, as she adjusted to the thickness of the mast. Slowly, she began to move back and forth, before picking up the pace, while Leon was accompanying her with thrusts. Fast. Brutal.

He wasn’t joking… she thought.

But, dissatisfied despite the pleasure, the man regained control, dominating the young woman with his body pressing against his. In missionary, he pounded her with powerful thrusts for long minutes, until he found the perfect angle. The pleasure was soaring, while the young woman couldn’t help, but moan. She clung to her lover's arm, her head thrown back, panting.

Orgasm was fast approaching for both.

A few more minutes later, as Leon observed his partner's facial expressions, excited and narcissistic that he was the reason for this daze she found herself in; the vaginal walls of the young woman tighten his cock. Several times. She moaned louder. She was holding back from screaming. He, too, saw himself reaching nirvana. He closed his eyes, the pleasure so intense, as groans of pleasure joined Y/N's vocals. His sperm sprang up and covered the walls of the woman.

“Damn…” he whispered before he pulled out. 

[deus-ex-knoxina]

nicky hemmick and languages

so like on the foxes everyone speaks 8 million languages, and then there’s neil, but i posit that after neil, nicky is the most polyglot-ish of all the foxes

he speaks english and german and i can’t remember if it’s canon or fanon that he speaks spanish but i’m gonna say he does! and for nicky just like for neil except for neil it was survival learning another language was essentially his ticket to freedom, and if he’s good enough at german to move there, then you know he’s actually like. competent

so we know nicky is capable of learning a language extremely well and we know that he has positive associations with language learning SO i present my headcanon: nicky hemmick is always learning a new language

sometimes he learns languages based on where he wants to travel, sometimes he learns languages so he can eavesdrop on kevin and neil’s french conversations (okay that was one time but still), and once, memorably, he learns python. just because. (programming and learning foreign languages have a ton of overlap and if you disagree come fight me)

nicky and erik learn italian together and spend a full two weeks in italy just enjoying life

as i mentioned above, nicky learns french in secret and chooses the best moment to just. casually butt into kevin and neil’s conversation. it’s about exy because of course it is, but he plays d1 exy he can hold a conversation on it. even in french. and the looks on literally everyone’s faces make the whole endeavor INCREDIBLY worth it. at their next match against the trojans nicky says something in french to jean on the court (i know they’re both backliners and wouldn’t have a reason to interact LET ME HAVE THIS) and jean promptly starts trash talking him in french and nicky’s like shit i need to learn more french so i know what the fuck he’s saying to me (fortunately neil is there to fire back insults in jean’s direction as well). during halftime there’s an impromptu ‘french insults and slang’ lesson in the foxes’ locker room

then he decides to broaden his horizons and learn some non-european languages, he’s a bit on the fence about asking kevin to help him w japanese because bad associations, but as soon as he casually mentions he’s thinking of studying it kevin JUMPS on the opportunity to be able to speak japanese with someone who isn’t associated with the ravens

he basically learns whatever he can get his hands on, with bonus points for if he makes a friend who speaks a language he doesn’t know, because then he can practice with them. he’s a great hit with his friends’ parents because if they’re immigrants and their english/german isn’t the greatest, nicky Will Learn Their Native Language If He Doesn’t Speak It Already and is promptly adopted by like 8 different sets of parents. his family? fuckin HUGE

[posusm]

a little thing for @delimeful 's alien Sanders Side Au WIBAR. Go check it out if you havent already. (The speaker's native tounge will be in italics) Chapter Two will be posted soon.

Clownery, hijinks, shenanigans, whatever you wanted to call it, these events were commonplace on the Mindscape. They had increased pretty significantly since the addition of their latest crewmember, a deathworlder who had been abducted from his home planet and forced to survive in a universe to wide to fathom. Or Virgil, if you wanted to be polite. 

This particular misadventure began when Virgil asked if Logan would be able to calculate the date on Earth, which Logan took as a personal challenge. The two of them spent several hours planning and theorizing, Logan speaking in his normal flowery cadence, and Virgil in his slightly stiff common, occasionally replacing a word with an English one if he couldn't think of the right translation.

"Well when I... left, it was winter, so-" Virgil isn't able to finish his sentence before Logan butts back in, hands twitching excitedly. 

"What is winter?" He asks, leaning forward. Virgil blinks a couple of times, trying to think of the right words to describe it. 

"When the sun is far away. It's cold?" Virgil offers hesitantly. Logan nods thoughtfully, seemingly appeased. 

"Yes, we have that too, on my home planet. We call it Abether." Logan says matter-of-factly, Virgil looks interested, and opens his mouth to ask a question, but is cut off by the door slamming open, making him jump to his feet and draw his shoulders up defensively, his mouth curling into a snarl. 

It, of course, is Roman and Patton, both bearing warm plates of food. Virgil catches sight of Roman's vicious glare at his defensive behavior and immediately sinks in guilt. Thankfully for the energy in the room, Patton's eyes were too scrunched up in his own version of a smile to see Virgil's aggressive reaction to his arrival. Logan side-eyes him slightly, which Virgil ignores valiantly. 

"What are y'all up to?" Patton asks cheerfully, setting down the plate of food in front of Virgil. He knows that it's his because it has the most food on it. Virgil can't really find it in himself to feel bad about being allotted the biggest portions, both because of his demanding physiology and the fact that he is severely underweight, even for his naturally lithe figure. 

Virgil eats as quickly as he dares without coming across as predatory, and finds himself, not for the first time, grieving his life before he was taken. He shakes off the dark thoughts threatening to cloud his mind and tunes back into the conversation. 

"-We've been trying to figure out what time of year it is on Virgil's home planet," Logan explains evenly to the others. Virgil nods in confirmation. 

"Why's that?" Patton asks, sitting down to eat and popping a piece of yellow fruit into his mouth. 

"I just want to know," Virgil says quickly. His eagerness to brush off the question draws curious stares from all three of his crewmates, and Virgil curses himself internally. 

"Yeah, right. What's the real reason?" Roman asks accusatorily. Virgil frowns, swallowing the strange meat in his mouth before speaking. He had learned a good few weeks ago not to talk with his mouth full. 

"I just... I want to know what's going on back home." Virgil says hastily, averting his eyes to look at the quickly passing stars outside the window. The others must sense that it's a heavy topic for him because the questioning stops, and Vigril catches Patton elbowing Roman in a weak spot in his natural armor when he thinks Virgil isn't looking. The sight makes a small, closed-lip smile appear on his face. 

They all eat in silence until the computer (or an alien equivalent of it) lets out a shrill beep that has everyone in the room startle in surprise. 

"Ah!" Logan says brightly, setting down his half-eaten food and walking towards the large black monitor. "The results are in!" 

Virgil gets up too, moving silently to Logan's side. He tilts his head curiously, and then straightens it, a bit self-conscious when he sees the curious look Logan shoots him. Virgil clears his throat pointedly to get Logan back on track, making the four-armed alien jump and turn back to the screen. 

"Here we are..." Logan says, staring at a block of text that is completely incomprehensible to Virgil. "Ah, the date is in your language. I guess there wouldn't be an approximate translation. Can you read this?" Logan asks, stepping out of Virgil's line of sight so he can have a better view of the scrawling text. Virgil leans forward, squinting slightly at the only familiar line in the script. 

"It is... December 18th." A shock of emotion runs through Virgil making him go a bit lightheaded. He takes a step back, ignoring the concerned looks of his crewmates. 

"Virgil?" Patton asks softly, brows furrowing. "Is everything okay?" 

Virgil knows the signs of an oncoming panic attack, he just doesn't know why this is making him panic. It shouldn't matter. He usually didnt celebrate his birthday even on Earth, and he's had countless ones pass by in space without even noticing. Why does it matter so much now? 

A small hand is on his elbow all of a sudden, and Virgil's swirling vision returns to him enough to see Patton's worried face. 

"Do you need to leave the room?" Patton asks calmly. Virgil shakes his head no. He's fine. He is. He just needs to go cry it out in his room. 

"No, It's fine. I just... need to go lie down." Virgil grinds out, wincing at his rough voice. Before he can go Logan places a hand on his lower arm. Virgil jumps, but at this point, he supposes he should just be proud of himself for not putting his crewmate in a headlock out of shock. 

"Hold on, before you go," Logan starts, making Virgil tense. "What upset you? I want to know so I can avoid it happening again." Logan says evenly. Virgil could sob with gratitude, but he swallows it down. 

"It's really nothing serious, it's just..." Virgil has to take a second to breathe so his next words don't come out as a sob. "It's my birthday tomorrow."  Despite Virgil's best efforts, the last word comes out cracked, and he quickly turns to hide his embarrassed face. 

He makes it out of the room without having a breakdown and practically runs to his room. He wedges himself into the cupboard he sleeps in, ignores how hard he's shaking, and cries. 

[inamindfarfaraway]

Imperial stormtrooper culture headcanons:

This is background information for my Star Wars OCs, so if this interests you you can read about them too! They and this are my personal rebellion against the stereotype of stormtroopers in the franchise as invariably pettily cruel, stupid, incompetent, having no personality beyond bullies or idiots, canon fodder, and the butt of the joke, and never, ever being anything even slightly near nuanced or multifaceted. It’s just unrealistic worldbuilding. I get that the franchise isn’t about them, but they are an important and iconic part of it and I’m sick of seeing literally not one millimetre of depth or respect allowed to them.

Stormtroopers may be indoctrinated into a system that values conformity above all else and punished for not complying with and enforcing that system, but they’re still people. No matter what species they are, they need social interaction on a fundamental level. But except on breaks and at meal times, informal or intimate communication is harshly discouraged as inessential and the first rule of stormtrooper life is that challenging the rules is dangerous. So they master voice and body language recognition to an incredible degree. There are three widespread and easy to learn coded languages native to the Stormtrooper Corps - Stormtrooper Sign Language (SSL); Tappese, similar to Morse code; and MAO (allegedly Move Along Officer, possibly a joke that’s displaced the now forgotten original meaning), a spoken military slang dialect - that are always fragmenting and evolving, and friend groups will frequently invent their own combinations and variants. A kind of game is to keep the canteen dead silent, just how the officers like it, while plenty of people are talking. They’re very self-aware of the ‘homogeneous perfect soldier’ stereotype.

Nicknames are a tradition, a holdover from the clone trooper days. You have an operating number your superiors use, but to your siblings in arms you’ll forever be known as whatever name you’re given or give yourself. In fact, the operating numbers’ dehumanizing implications popularized the custom among the early non-clone ranks, as well as wanting to honour and live up to their revered predecessors. Nicknames rarely follow a pattern because they’re so personal. However, a theme may show connections, e.g. siblings or a shared background. A trend emerges that the most respected soldiers for personality and success alike are given new or second nicknames (more like titles) related to colours. The Empire is black, white and shades of grey as far as the eye can see; being told that you bring colour into it is a great compliment.

To identify each other on sight they subtly modify their armour, another clone homage. Tiny carvings with a vibroknife; coloured splashes on the padding; stencilling or scratching patterns on the borders of your visor; removing the little buttons and switches to add ones you found or crafted yourself. Details never seen unless they’re looked for. This is because any act of reclaiming your individuality could be constructed as dissatisfaction, even dissent. A dent or scuff or something will inevitably be used to identify you anyway, so why not make it your decision and fun, right? More daring troopers try more obvious modifications, sometimes in escalating competitions. Who can keep the officer from remembering we aren’t mindless droids the longest? Who can come the closest to getting caught and not be? It’s an art and a game.

Speaking of games, the troopers have dozens. Life in the army is a lot slower than advertised. Dejarik and sabaac are popular. They make their own games and put twists on existing ones - if it didn’t involve gambling or cigarettes originally, it can now! They don’t get much time for such recreation in the tightly planned days, so many soldiers stay up past curfew to play in the barracks and/or have someone cover for them and sneak out to a local hangout during their shift. An upside of the concealing helmets, identical armour and not being expected to make independent contributions is that nobody knows when you’re being impersonated or snatching a nap under your helmet. Except your accomplices. Again, no amount of Imperial propaganda can suppress the joy of helping your friends outwit a snobby, abusive superior.

Detached superiors are maligned and mocked behind their backs. The higher the rank, more privileges and less frontline experience they have, the bigger the bully and/or coward they tend to be. These types of authorities are often callous and care nothing for the ‘expendable’ common soldiers, or actively enjoy throw their weight around. Even the more benevolent ones don’t understand the infantry culture and are used to thinking of soldiers as numbers on a datascreen. A joke goes, “What’s the difference between a Rebel and an officer? A Rebel might look you in the eyes as he kills you. An officer will do it without looking at you at all.”

If you have nightmares, your nearest roommate will wake you and do their best to comfort you. It doesn’t matter whether you met them that day, it’s basic decency.

Forget credits, trading is the currency here. Equipment, rations, gossip, random items from planets the recipient’s never been to. Brightly coloured items and dyes are revered like the finest spices are by criminals.

Highly specialized branches (snowtroopers, sandtroopers, seatroopers, swamptroopers, magma troopers, etc.) have their own stereotypes and inside jokes due to living in extreme, usually isolated environments. Their unique equipment also has an alluring element of coolness to standard troopers, who may envy it. “Seriously? I’m stuck with a blaster rifle that barely works and you get a flamethrower?” “Blasters don’t risk setting you on fire.”

The army is full of systemic discrimination. Everything from the standard armour to the weapons to the architecture is designed for the physiology of Humans. In a self-perpetuating cycle, most recruits are thus Human and the near-Human minority are subjected to if not blatant abuse, then underlying biases. However, different species have different strengths. The aforementioned specialized branches generally have higher concentrations of non-Human species. Few troopers are willing to stand up to an officer and many are at least implicitly prejudiced themselves, but some make it clear to their non-Human comrades they don’t agree with such unfair treatment. Non-Humans tend to stick together.

There’s a deeply ingrained rivalry between the Imperial Army, the Imperial Navy, and the Commission for the Preservation of the New Order (COMPNOR), the umbrella Imperial propaganda machine and secret police responsible for monitoring citizens for treasonous thoughts. The army resents the navy, the navy looks down on the army, and everyone hates and fears COMPNOR and the associated Imperial Intelligence agencies for being just plain creepy and extremist by anyone’s standards. Sometimes the military and naval rivalry is playful, akin to siblings. But when COMPNOR and Imperial Intelligence are involved, it’s deadly serious. The Rebels are the enemy. The other forces are your nemeses.

A universal joke is pointing out the impracticality of the seemingly bottomless holes and chasms in many Imperial buildings with either no railings or railings short enough to easily fall over. “You know, those things kill more stormtroopers than Rebels, other criminals and alien beasts combined.” It’s uncomfortable to think that that might just be true. What purpose are the chasms serving, exactly? Creating a tense, fearful atmosphere? Why are they so deep? Like, you can drop a stone down there and not hear it land. Why aren’t there at least decent railings? Someday, the troopers swear, an important person will fall down one of the pits and the safety board will finally have to improve regulations.

Mouse droids are the Imperial Army’s unofficial mascot. Mistreating them is considered equivalent to kicking a dog. “Mouse droid” is even slang for an inexperienced new recruit, connoting immaturity, innocence and needing protection. By extension, the Imperial Academy is nicknamed the “mouse maze”. Rebels are contrastingly sometimes nicknamed “rats”.

[latinobirds]

So I noticed that you are Brazilian, can I have some tips on writing Brazilian people (I don't want to accidentally have the characters be bad representation)

Okay this is going to be long because i’ve been waiting for someone to ask me this for who knows how long. Also thank you for asking ;w;

1.What to avoid

-If your character is the only brazillian/latino in the story, avoid making them orbit around the white character(s). Which means, give them their own lifes, their own relationships, their own hobbies, likes and dislikes, that don’t involve an usamerican or european! You don’t need to do all of these if it won’t fit your story, but it’s good to just make at least one of these so they are their own person

-The character fighting style is capoeira...it’s alright if they took classes and it kinda stuck with them, but capoeira is not learned to be used in actual fights, it’s more of a dance then a fight if anything. it’s just that the dance moves happen to be like fighting, but it’s just like dancing in the regard of both parts need to get ready to fight in harmony, plus there’s literally people singing and playing instruments like berimbau in capoeira fights...

-Making your only brazillian/latino character in the story be the comedic relief or punchbag. It’s not bad to have comedic relief characters, or to make your br character be a jokester! Brazillians have a huge sense of humour, and we love joking and not taking things very seriously. But to make your character boil down to the butt of the joke or the punchbag is just mean to your audience. How do you think we feel if our only rep is shown when we’re being made fun of or being beaten up?

-It’s not exactly bad to have your character like music/samba, be from Rio de janeiro, be a jokester/malandro, be an animal, play futebol, and/or have a green/yellow color palette. But it would be great to have something new for once. 97% of brazillian characters fit into these cattegories, and it’s not only not very relatable but kind of feels like it’s the only things you guys know about us, or care about enough to write.

-On that note, it’s also not bad to have a flirty br character, or a handsome character, or a character that everyone falls in love with, but that may also fall into the sexy latino trope, which is not good because it objectifies us. Your character can be pretty, and they can like to flirt, and they can be loved by many, but make it be because that’s who they are, not because they’re brazillian.

2. Billingual characters in media

So, i’m just going to sum it up because my opinions on this topic aren’t something new, in fact i’m quite indifferent. I’ve seen a lot of people complaining about characters that switch mid phrase to speak their native language for no reason, and like...no billingual person would do that, that kind of confuses us and the people we’re talking to. However, like i said, i don’t really care. Of course, i’d love a character that would be like “it’s like! um...what’s the word again? damn it how do i say cocada em inglês?”, but i also don’t care so much if i get a character that goes “olá amigos!!how are you doing?”

However here’s some scenarios i'd like to see in a billingual character, because they’re hella relatable for billingual people. Doesn’t mean you have to do them tho, consider them some ideas that you can or can not use

-The character remembers a word in another language instead of the one they were currently speaking, and gets frustrated because they can’t remember no matter how hard they try!...then 20 minutes later, after changing topics, they shout the word because they finally remembered it

-The character talks to themselves in the opposite language they’re currently talking with(if i’m talking english, i’m thinking in portuguese. if im talking in portuguese, im thinking in english)

-The character acidentally mix words in both languages they know, and it makes sense in their head but no sense when they say it

-The character has a great vocabulary in their second language, and a lazy vocabulary in their first language.(we tend to get more relaxed in our native languages, and more anxious about mistakes in a second language)

-The character speaks in their native language to joke with someone that doesn’t speak it, or speaks in their native language when talking bad about someone or anything they don’t want others to hear

-The character tries to translate a slang in portuguese to english because they forgot it wasn’t a slang in english, and it makes no sense at all, confusing everyone but them

3.Some details that we’d love to see in brazillian characters!

-If the character is from another place that isn’t rio de janeiro/são paulo/bahia. Bonus if their behaviour and/or taste in food is affected by where they’re from!

-The character enjoys other types of songs/dances besides samba&capoeira. we have several genres of music and dances that your character could love! funk, technobrega, bossa nova, sertanejo, mpb, forró...it even could tell a lot about a character, where they’re from, when they were born, they’re personality...

-The character mentions some brazillian food they like. This one is super easy, and it’s a small detail that doesn’t even have to change much in a story. Just have your character, idk, say they love pão de queijo, or have a scene they’re making brigadeiro, or have them wake up to eat beiju...it’s small details that are very appreciated.

-The character mentions some accurate detail about a place in brazil(that isn’t rio oh my godddd). Like them just thinking about the candy colored houses in bahia, just that. 

Once i’ve readed a ttc fic where the author made Zé mention tarsila do amaral, a brazillian artist, and i couldn’t belive my eyes. i was so sure the author was brazillian! but she wasn’t! she just researched!!! i was smiling so much that day

Basically just something that makes us know you actually researched or spent time while making this character. The bar is so so low

Anyways, hope this was helpful! If you have any questions or want me to be more specific about a certain topic, don’t be afraid to ask! I love rambling about my culture, and i love being helpful, so i have a great time answering questions like this!

[subject-v]

Bird’s Eye (whumptober 25)

Bird’s Eye

masterlist

Escape, flight, hiding

When three people get killed and eaten by a wild animal in a remote village, Five investigates, and finds more than she counted on.

TW: gore, death, eaten alive (not cannibalism)

2700 words

You’ve seen one body, you’ve seen ‘em all, or so I thought, but this body is, I have to admit, a little bit gruesome, even for my taste. At least I’m better off than Raquín, who’s off ‘stretching his legs’ (read: throwing up in a bush) to try to regain composure.

Lacerations across the chest, four to six inches long, wide enough to show the yellow fatty tissue below, and always in sets of four. With slashes, you get the same clean edges, but you expect them to be more random—whatever made this, I’m guessing it had four claws. The butt and parts of the legs are missing flesh in big chunks—eaten, another sign it’s an animal. The eyeballs are both missing, not plucked out neatly because nothing about this murder is neat.

“Not one of ours,” announces Graff, tugging down at the bottom of his waistcoat like he thinks he’s at a dinner party or something.

“You sure?”

“Can’t be. Titans don’t have claws and they swallow prey whole, glyptodons can’t slash with their claws like that, and the giant ground sloths have three claws. Besides, they are herbivores.”

I hum, noncommittal, and glance at Chomo, our guide in this part of jungle. Graff dismissed her when I joined the investigation party, claiming she didn’t speak anything but native Terai, but she’d reacted to Graff’s explanation with scorn, shaking her head just in time with his words. “You have thoughts?” I ask in Terai, a delightful language I learned—what is it now? Four hundred years ago?—and one of the few that remain from the old Commonwealth.

“He claims it isn’t his fault. It is.”

“Not a fan of Jardin Corp, are we?”

At the sound of his company’s name, Graff turns to stare at me, but he knows better than to interrupt. Leadership introduced me as a highly-specialized SME when they stuck me on his team and he’s middle management at best, not someone who can afford to piss me off.

“Why do they need to put these animals in cages? Do they not also deserve free lives?”

“It’s easier for people to see them when they’re in cages.”

Chomo snorts.

“Guys, I found something.” Walk finished, Raquín studiously does not look down as he approaches and jabs a thumb behind him. “Footprints. I think whatever did this left them.”

“Paw prints?” asks Graff, so casual I make a note to come back to that point.

“Not sure. Whatever it is, it has four claws.” He’s more than ready to lead us on a merry chase after this man-eating animal but Graff calls for a pause.

“The body. Should we bury it? Burn it?”

“What do you do with bodies?” I ask Chomo. It’s hard to tell, but they look like a native.

“They will return to nature,” she says simply. I take that to mean we’re good to move on.

Raquín stops by the car to snag a high powered hunting rifle and, at Graff’s glare, distributes the tranqs as well. Interesting, that he claims it isn’t one of Jardin’s escaped animals and yet doesn’t want it dead. Knowing how much it costs to send people into the Forest to capture prime specimens, he must be under orders not to kill it until he’s sure it’s not one of theirs. What does he intend to do with us if it is one of theirs?

Nyph and Gens offer to join the hunting party, bored, perhaps, of their desk jobs and confused by the difference between excitement and actual real-world danger. Gens holds their tranq gun like someone in an action thriller.

Raquín guides us around the footstep so we don’t mess it up before I can take a look, but I pay more attention to Graff, who tenses. It could indeed be a paw print and, curious, I pull the brochure—soaked by rain and sweat—out of my back pocket. Before I can read it, Nyph yanks it out of my hands and squashes a mosquito against her thigh.

“They carry disease,” she says by way of explanation, and sure, it’s true, the mosquitoes here carry malaria, a disease locals like Chomo are immune to, but she was runed up to hell and back again before getting permission to enter the field so she’s just as protected now, if not more so. Whatever, now my pretty brochure has her blood splattered all over it. Hygienic.

I find what I’m looking for near the back, in the megafauna, predator section: smilodon, the saber-toothed cat, known to pray on humans in its natural habitat in the Forest. Yes, if I were Graff, I’d be quite worried too.

“If it is a big cat,” Raquín says, leading the way on account of he has a machete and none of us do. “It’s probably nearby. They remain close to a kill to drink or sleep, then go back and finish eating it when they’re hungry again.”

“Oh,” says Nyph and I swear she’s only just realized we are in the wilderness hunting a dangerous animal. “What, like nearby nearby?”

Raquín shines his flashlight up into the branches of a tree. “Yep. Leopards drag their prey up to save it. The violence on the body makes me think large animal, to get claw marks so high, but that footprint suggests something lighter. Intriguing, no?”

“Uh, yeah.” Nyph hugs closer to Gens who, as the shortest in the group, is perhaps the most vulnerable to attack.

“They think it is a tiger?” asks Chomo.

“A big one.” I never had to discuss the minutiae back when I learned Terai so I use my two pointer fingers as saber teeth.

She scoffs. “No. A bird.”

“You think a bird did that? No offense, Chomo, but I thought you were supposed to be the local boreal expert. I haven’t seen anything bigger than a parrot since we arrived.”

She just repeats: “Bird.”

Okay. I’ve pissed her off. That’s my bad.

Raquín chatters away as we walk, much calmer now that the body is behind is, and an encyclopedia of local wildlife. When a troop of bonobos trails us for a few minutes, chattering, he happily explains that they are some of the closest genetic relatives to humans. They seem a lot hairier but what do I know.

Spooked, perhaps, by a sudden machete swing, the few walking alongside us suddenly spring up trees, hooting until they’re all in the canopy and go silent. I’ve never seen a human do that, either.

There’s nothing else to do so I finish the brochure, which ends on the ominous our team is hard at work capturing and taming more animals for your viewing pleasure. They’ve framed the textbox with a long black feather. How artistic.

I nearly run into Raquín, who’s held up a hand. He puts a finger to his lips, then points behind me, into a thicket of thorny brambles. Slowly, I turn around but it’s just plants. Then, a few leaves twitch, move, and there’s no wind to cause it.

This is why Jardin is paying me the big bucks—I step up close to it and peer into the darkness. Movement? I can’t tell, but the skin on the back of my neck rises. There’s something in there, and it is looking at us, not the way the bonobos did, with curiosity. This thing sees us as prey.

It is hunting us.

A parrot launches out of the thicket, cawing, and flaps past me. I curse, clutch my heart. Fuck’s sake, it couldn’t fly out the other way? Gens fires a halfhearted tranq dart, for not reason I can see, and he missis every nearby thing by miles.

“That’s what you heard?” I ask Raquín.

His brows are furrowed. “Do you hear that?”

Despite myself, I match his muted tone. “Hear what?”

“Exactly. Where are the birds?”

He’s right—a host of eagles and parrots and quails have cackled and crowed contentedly in their trees since we arrived. Now, I can hear none of them. No, that’s not true. Above us, I hear a ruffle of feathers as a vulture alights on a branch and looks down with a baleful eye.

“Back to the car,” I decide. We shouldn’t have gone off alone at all, but Graff’s been pressuring us to get this thing all tied up and Raquín has the self-confidence of a teenager.

I half-turn, shepherding a paralyzed Nyph away from the bushes and back towards where I think we came from. It’s out of the edge of my vision that I sport movement. Turn, too slow, and a black mass rushes past me, claws outstretched. Gens shrieks and before Raquín can aim, the thing has dragged them back into the jungle. Raquín fires once before Graff yells, “Non-lethals only!” and by then, Gens’ voice has faded.

“Dammit, it’s dragged them off.” Raquín holsters the gun and hefts his machete. “I didn’t think it would attack if it wasn’t hungry, but clearly, it’s decided humans make such good prey, it’s worth getting a surplus.”

“Anyone get a good look at it?” I ask, turning my back to the thicket even though this breach of protocol is giving Raquín an aneurism. I don’t know if Jardin included ‘immortality’ in my résumé but it’s funny to watch him twitch. “Four claws, that’s all I got.”

“It didn’t go for the neck,” Raquín says. “Big cats go for the neck, and they attack from behind.”

Nyph swallows loudly. “Are they… dead?”

“Most certainly. The other body was likely killed seconds after the attack began.”

She nods.

“Let’s get you back to the car.”

Graff positions himself squarely in the middle—I take up the back, right behind Chomo, who’s clutching the beads around her neck and muttering some sort of prayer—and contacts HQ. I hear the phrase “life insurance” and decide I actually don’t want to know how Jardin is going to handle the death of one of their employees.

Raquín’s coms rune flips on. “Heard a scream. Coming to get you.”

“Negative, Lyold.” Raquín presses a finger against the rune, like that’s ever worked. “Lyold, hold position. The jungle is not traversable by car.”

As if to prove him wrong, we reach a drained riverbed just as he says it, flat enough that I can just about to see the flag Graff put around the dead body a couple hundred meters ahead. Lyold, ever the action hero, bursts out of denser underbrush, the open-roof car trailing vines and covered in water and moss. He catches a bit of air before he lands on the riverbed, the back tires losing traction briefly on the rocks. Then, he’s pulled a jackknife turn and races our way.

Shaking his head, Raquín pushes us to one side so Lyold doesn’t kill us before the tiger can, and then I see something black race through the trees alongside the car.

“Look.”

Raquín follows my finger and his eyes widen. The thing is keeping pace no problem, moving like a human, not a tiger. “Lyold, swerve right. The animal-”

With a cry like a crow, it leaps from the underbrush, a full two meters up, legs out first. It’s round, smaller than I thought, with feathers and a wicked curved beak. It smashes through the side window and slams into Lyold’s chest, the claws digging in deep. Lyold shrieks, the car swerves deeper into the riverbed. Blood splatters across the windscreen. Now Nyph is screaming too, firing her tranq gun indiscriminately towards the thing, until Raquín yanks it out of her hand. The car careens into a tree branch, crumpling and throwing the thing off. It lands and remains still for a moment and dammit, Chomo was right, it’s clearly a bird, albeit a two meter tall one, with a long, elegant neck. Then, it sprints towards us.

“Get them out alive!” I yell, and then I’m running too.

“What are you-”

I don’t hear the rest because I’ve collided with the bird. Eight claws embed themselves in my chest, oh boy do they. Suddenly, I’m on my stomach, bleeding profusely, the thing’s foot-long beak clamped over my shoulder hard enough to mangle the bone there. Blood trails behind me. I weakly try to staunch some of the bleeding, like that will help at all, and then I die.

When I wake back up, the bird is a meter away, chuckling like a vulture, most definitely consternated. It spots me and attacks again, same style as before, and drags me even less far this time before I die and respawn.

On the next go around, it doesn’t try dragging me. It slashes open my stomach and nemds down to tear away at my intestines.

Oh, nice. I’ve never been vivisected by an animal or eaten alive before. The blood loss, not to mention waves of pain, make me lose consciousness but I drift in and out a few minutes while it slathers, watching as if in a dream as it uses a foot to keep my intestines from all coming out at once, then throws back its head and swallows them whole. Definitely a new experience, this one.

Sadly for the bird, it does not notice that it does not get any fuller when I die and reform, even though all my guts have disappeared from its stomach, as has all the blood I sprayed on the ground. Although actually, I’ve never been eaten alive before. Maybe I’ve been the source of infinite food this whole time. That’s going to bring up some dicey utilitarian questions about the rest of my existence.

I don’t try to crawl away, just let it yank open my chest again. It’s learning, if slowly, that it needs to not kill me for the meal to last longer, so it takes more care this time, going for the liver first, but it does not have the precision of a surgeon and I die and reform and die again, caught in what has to be pretty close to hell, no? I shut my eyes and try to enjoy the pain, though I do wish it weren’t so intermittent. As I become accustomed to it, I start to feel the subtleties, like how one claw on each leg is longer than the others, or how it actually has a tongue and it feels really fucking weird for something lick your organs.

I assume this will last until it starves to death, which isn’t the best news, but on the bright side, I’m going to get a huge bonus from Jardin “we’ll pay an extra hundred each time you die” Corporation. What are we at now? Twenty?

My intestines are all splayed out on the grass around me when the bird suddenly looks up, its pupils narrowing. Something behind me snaps a twig and the bird chortles, fluffing up its feathers until it’s almost twice as big. Blood flushes to the crest on its head, turning it red and blue. Then, it dips down and yanks out my eye.

Okay, that’s rude. I don’t like collapsed eye sockets, nor do I particularly appreciate being able to see it swallow my eyeball with the one I still have.

Then, a bang splits the night. The bullet streaks through the bird’s feathers, leaving it uninjured, but it hisses, lunges, and the next bullet catches it in the head. Now there’s two types of blood all over the grass.

Chomo crouches at my side, hands fluttering over my organs. “A healer is on the way.”

“This is definitely fatal.”

“They are a good healer.”

“Yeah, I’m in decompensated volume shock right now and I’ve literally been eviscer-”

“-ated,” I say, in a newly formed body.

Chomo lurches back in shock. “You are one of them, the beings.”

“Yeah.”

“You let it eat you again and again to save us.”

“Before you start thinking I’m a good person, I did get paid a lot.”

Chomo doesn’t care to continue this discussion, and neither do I, certainly not after being eaten thirty times in a row. She points to the bird’s leg, though, and the tag wrapped around it, with Jardin’s logo imprinted into the metal. “It did escape from their facilities. It killed almost two dozen people.”

“Color me not surprised.” This idiom does not translate into Terai and Chomo looks at me like I’ve grown a second head.

My clothes are totally ruined so I decide to head right back to HQ instead of the village, just because I want to see how they react. Poorly, is the answer, but after I submit to a quick truth check, they pay me then and there. I use some to buy new clothes, the soft sort, and head back to Chomo’s village so I can offer to testify in court that Jardin’s negligence led to the death of two dozen locals.

[black-mesa-slut-voice]

Bro your art tag is filled to the brim with solid gold, thank you for making such incredible benry content I tried to reblog as much I could I love it all..... do you have any frenry thoughts?

Thank you so much!!!! This ask made me super happy I’m :’’’’’3

But to answer your question, YES! I do very much. Unfortunately I’m bad with like... talking about things without direction? I usually need specific thoughts or questions to start with and I can sorta ramble from there. But as far as general thoughts....

I love the idea of them going from enemies to frenemies to lovers. Most notably- in my headcanons, I think the main reason they butt heads so much is because they’re not only different “species”, but think in such different ways that both their verbal cues and body language go over each other’s heads at best, and at worse mean the opposite. 

Sort of like how people who are used to dogs often mistake cat body language, and so they think cats are ‘evil’- for example, exposing belly. On a dog it’s an invitation of ‘please touch this’, and on a cat it’s saying ‘i trust you not to touch this’- so when someone used to dog body language sees this, they touch, and then get bit and scratched.

Same with Benrey and Gordon. For example- when Benrey doesn’t know the answer to something, he never says “i don’t know”- he’ll simply respond with a nonsensical answer. For example- Benrey breaks into Gordon’s house post-game. Gordon says “How are you alive?”, and Benrey... doesnt know! So he just says “i’m getting cereal”, cus that’s the first thing that comes to mind that he does know. It’s not malicious. Of course, to Gordon, this seems like Benrey is avoiding the question or just annoying him on purpose.

Another big difference is that Gordon talks so, so much- and Benrey doesn’t. Human languages aren’t his native language. That, and just... having some sort of auditory processing issues, It takes effort to actually process the words of what Gordon is saying. Thus, the ‘huh?”s so often. He genuinely just needs a second to think, but Gordon often doesn’t give him that second and immediately moves on to talking again, upset that Benrey ‘wasnt paying attention’ or whatever.

It’s the same from Benrey’s point of view though, too. To him, Gordon is unreasonably mean to him- he tries to listen and do things that he thinks is right and best, but because of that barrier, Gordon often snaps at him... and he doesn’t always understand why.

I think a lot of them going from ‘enemies’ to ‘friends’ involves them realizing that there is that barrier there in the first place, and slowly learning each other’s language. Not literal language, of course, just... their tics and mannerisms and body language and such. 

I love the trope i see so often of ‘benrey forcibly moves himself in’, because par tof the reason they never learned is because they were both in black mesa and stressed. In a comfortable environment where they can just hang out and observe each other in daily routines, they start to figure it out. 

Gordon starts giving Benrey a moment to think over Gordon’s words after he speaks, starts to realize that benrey sitting on his end table watching him sleep is him trying to be friendly and watch over him, he starts to pick out sweet voice color meanins when Benrey just cant find the words. Benrey starts figuring out just what insults are actually hurting and what’s acceptable teasing; he starts learning when Gordon is fake upset and loud or genuinely upset, he starts to work on properly answering questions and admitting when he doesnt know things, etc etc etc!

It’s once they start to understand each other that the actually become well and true friends. And from there it’s just a short slide into lovers, though i do love the idea of them never admitting it for a looong while lol

anyway i just rambled a lot i hop this makes sense. I just... really love the idea of two people being so so so different but learning to understand each other, to the point where if any outside looks in on them they have no idea whats going on. Gordon says “what do you want for dinner” and benrey doesnt answer for a solid 2 minutes before going “beans” and gordon goes “of fucking course you want the goddamn bean burrito supreme you ass. also use your napkin this time and dont eat it thats impolite” and then orders for both of them anyway. thats love bro

[iggyalfi2319]

Between Borrower and Giant

BBAG: X/2/? - A/N A little idea I had on my mind after reading different G/T stories and different perspective. And I thought, “Why not crossing the perspecives in one story?”

The storyline isn’t really solid and expect me to use OCs and weird ideas. The scaling might fail me a lot, I’m not good at size appreciation ^^;

I’m all ears if you have questions or suggestion.

I hope I won’t drop it like other countless stories I gave up from laziness and block -_-; Also, English isn’t my native language, don’t be mad...

Hai, I stop rambling and let you enjoy that thingy.

=====BBAG=====

Giant: (noun) a person or thing of unusually great size

Tiny: (adjective) very small.

Borrower: (noun)  One who takes what belongs to another, and uses it as their own

Everything is just a question of perspective.

Patton hummed softly as he was cleaning his little cozy home.

It was located somewhere in the forest, few minutes away from the nearest town. He enjoyed the peace and calm from his place even though he kind of craved other’s company. Sometimes, he could be touch starving, causing him to be very clingy toward his friends.

Yet, he gladly enjoyed some time for himself in his little home too.

Being the “Dad” of the crew could be pretty tiresome.

Sometimes, he felt that he was abused for his kindness. He gave and gave. While he didn’t get much in return.

*tunk*

Patton got pulled out of his reverie when he heard a familiar clatter.

He quietly went to the kitchen while trying to contain his excitment of getting the visit of his favourite little guest.

Virgil came out from the teapot that was actually a secret entry specially made for him. The original hole in the wall being too small for him, he had widened it and hidden it behind a broken teapot, so he just had to lift up the cap for getting in or out from the pot/entry.

You see, Virgil was “slightly” bigger than the few Borrowers that Patton had caught the sight of before. The bigger male was curious about it, but the emo generally avoided the topic.

Patton got on his knees and slowly crept in the kitchen before watching Virgil dropping his bag outside of the pot and pushing the cap back to its place. Then he hopped down from his porcelaine perch, dusting himself off.

He looked around, noticing that the place was unusally quiet at this time.

“Odd...” He muttered. “Maybe Patton went out -”

“PEEK A BOO!”

Patton jumped out of his hiding spot, scaring the shitz outta the poor emo.

“UWAH!” Virgil yelled and fell on his butt. “HOLY FRIGGING SKET, PATTON!”

He grasped his chest, his heart beating like crazy.

“Oh I’m sorry kiddo!” Patton panicked. “I just wanted to surprise you...”

“Just don’t do it again...” Virgil muttered, trying to calm down.

“Any way I can help? Do you want some water?” Patton asked sheepishly.

“Go for water...” The tiny male answered, using the 4-7-8 breathing technique.

The young fatherly man went to fetch the small cup he got from a doll sized tea set he got specially for Virgil. While he knew he couldn’t force him to stay with him, he wanted at least to enjoy some time together. Virgil started to openly interact with him not this long ago, heck, Patton knew that the Borrower was still a bit weary around him. There was some days where the emo would sneak in, unannounced. Probably for taking some emergency stuff. In these occasions, Patton would pretend not to acknoledge him, despite really wanting to. He prefered avoiding raising up Virgil’s stress level. Though, that didn’t keep Patton from ostensibly leaving the needed objects or food.

“Here your water kiddo.” He came back with the little cup. “I brought some cookies too.”

He had been practicing on making smaller portions. Virgil’s unusually big small size made things slightly easier. If it was for standard Borrowers, making even smaller pieces would be too complicated. Especially with Patton’s bad eyesight.

Virgil thanked him before drinking up the cup. Then he picked up a cookie. To him, it was the size of a plate. He broke it into smaller pieces before eating it up.

“How is it?” Patton asked. “Do you feel better?”

“These are delicious, big guy!” Virgil moaned softly at the taste. “I feel a lot better already.” Patton gasped in delight, stars in his eyes while the smaller male finished off his cookie.

“You’ll have to thank Cara for giving me her recipe.” The glassed man chuckled softly.

He looked at the emo sitting on the counter, letting out a small sight.

Slowly but surely, he moved his hand.

As expected, Virgil watched his movements.

“M...May I?” he slowly approached his hand toward him.

The doll sized male leaned carefully against it.

Patton tried not to squeal in happiness.

Virgil was like a wild animal. Very hard to gain his trust and so easy to break.

The tallest gently ruffled the smallest’s hair with his thumb. The Borrower closed his eyes, enjoying it.

They stayed like that in silence, savouring the moment.

Patton must admit he loved Virgil’s company more than anyone else’s. For Virgil, Patton was someone nice to have around, even if he was a bit suffocating sometime. But that was a part of his personality, so he accepted it even though he voiced out or showed his discomfort, knowing that Patton would step back.

Soon, the Borrower moved away from the hand. Patton whined softly but he didn’t protest.

“I have a present for you, from the kids.” Virgil ruffled in his bag.

“Really?!” Patton bounced excitedly.

He had a soft spot for children. When he learned from Virgil that he was in a foster family with 8 kids, Patton wanted to know everything about them! Heck, he even wanted to meet them. Of course, Virgil downright refused. At first from the lack of trust toward the big guy. But then, from the dangerosity. From the travel from their place to Patton’s house, or from the hostile environment that Virgil had experienced himself.

While Patton pretty much immediately welcomed Virgil and the Borrower slowly growing close to him, he really didn’t like Patton’s friends and did everything to stay hidden from them. So bringing children was out of question.

Virgil pulled out was seemed to be a blanket to him, which ended up being like a small tissue in Patton’s palm.

“That was the biggest sheets they could get.” The emo scratched the back of his head. “Cara helped sewing them together.”

Patton vaguely hummed, admiring the artwork.

It represented one big purple and black person, a couple standing next to them, smaller in size, then 8 smaller figures surrounding the big purple one. The details in the lineart was impressive, and even the slightly crooked coloring was beautiful. “For Mister P” was written on the top of the artwork. “Mister P?” Patton chuckled.

“W...Well I wanted to keep it vague at that time...” Virgil sputtered. “But I promise I’ll consider introducing you properly to them...one day...”

“I’ll be looking for it.” Patton lightly petted him.

Virgil blushed lighlty.

“Guess who is here, Padre ~!”

Both of Patton and Virgil jumped out of their skin at the ceremoniously booming voice of one of Patton’s friend, Roman.

“It’s time for me to leave.” Virgil stood up. “Thanks for the cookie.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay for the night?” Patton asked, a bit disappointed.

“I have people waiting for me...” Virgil mumbled, packing the cookies in his bag, as well as some foil, toothpicks and other knickknacks that Patton would probably not need anymore.

Patton scooped him and brought him to the teapot.

“I guess I’ll see you later, big guy.” Virgil saluted.

“See ya, kiddo.” Patton smiled.

“Patton are you here?” Roman called.

Said glassed man just had the time to put down the cap on the pot.

“In here, Ro, I’m coming!” He called back, preciously cradling the present given by the Borrower.

“Ha! There you are.” Roman let out a princey huff.

Logan was apparantly here too.

“Greeting Patton.” He nodded slightly, before noticing the piece of fabric that Patton was holding. “What is this?”

“It’s a present from a little guest.” The father smiled

Logan and Roman eyed him suspiciously, but Patton was too busy admiring it to notice.

-

Virgil flew throught the forest, swinging his hooks from tree to tree like Spiderman. He had a long way to go and night was already falling.

While he enjoyed his little time with Patton, he cursed himself for not leaving sooner.

Cara, the foster mother, was surely waiting for him, a pan in her hand.

Though, she was used to it. Even before Virgil, because her husband, Amos, was the one going in the Giants’ realm for borrowing. He was the one who taught everything to Virgil.

The young man wondered how Amos could do that during so many years, especially when he was franckly smaller than him.

Soon, the trees were getting smaller and smaller, when Virgil reached the other realm.

Time for the change of perspective.

Virgil knew that he was near home, when the trees were just a few feet bigger than him.

He reeled back his hooks in his bag before continuing by foot, slowly heading toward the big old shacks, patched up here and there. Signs of expansions were very obvious.

A blonde woman around her 50s with glasses and green eyes, wearing a pastel green dress with a yellow apron and sandals was waiting for him outside, her hands on her hips.

“Hi Cara...” Virgil looked down at her.

“Virgil Andersen! What took you so long!” She said sternly.

Though her expression softened pretty quickly when he winced at her tone.

“Amos and I were worried sick, and the kids wanted to wait for you before goint to bed.”

“Because I’m technically their bed, right?” Virgil snorted.

“Don’t be so cocky young man.” She scolded him. “Amos was even about to get you himself.”

“What?” Virgil’s eyes widened. “But it’s dangerous!”

“Hey, don’t forget who taught you everything, kid.”

A man also around 50s with wild blond hair, a thick beard, greyish blue eyes and dressed like a lumberman joined them, dragging some logs.

“Since you’re here, get them on the pile before we can finally go to sleep.”

Virgil easily scooped up the logs and put them with the others.

Amos opened the entry made for Virgil, meaning the whole front walls in two big doors.

The shack was big enough in width for him to live in but slightly cramped up because it wasn’t high enough for him to stand in.

The young man shuffled inside on his knees, careful not to knock down anthing. Of course, the furnitures were pushed against the walls so Virgil could easily move around, but years of living here made him an expert in twisting and avoinding objects. Very useful when you live with messy and mischevious children.

He let his bag in the entry, Amos saying they would take care of it tomorrow before shuffling to the sleeping area.

The floor was a giant mattress and above there was 8 hammocks.

Assuming that the youngest inhabitants were asleep, Virgil carefully stripped down to his shirt and boxers before lying on the mattress. He couldn’t fully lie down, and shuffled as quietly as possible to find a comfortable position.

Suddenly -

“Virgil is back!”

“Get him! Get him!”

“Finally!”

8 smaller figures fell on him.

“Oof! Hey, slow down!” He groaned as the kids crowded him.

“So you went to visit Mister P?” One who looked like a younger version of Amos asked. “Tell us! tell us!”

“Did he like the present?” A red haired girl who seemed to be a native American piped up.

Are you two getting close? a voice rang through everyone’s head as a white haired girl had galaxy like eyes glowing softly.

The kids snickered at the thought while Virgil sputtered.

“What make you think that!” He hid his face.

“So it’s true?” a brown haired boy jumped in.

“Okay, that’s enough!” Virgil huffed and plucked them off him.

He set them in their respective hammocks.

“I’ll tell you everything tomorrow. Now, good night!”

He curled up and started to drift off.

When he heard a soft “THUMP”, before feeling a small weight against his torso.

He opened an eye, noticing that the smallest of the children as nestled up against him.

Soon, another child joined.

Then another.

Then another.

Till all the children were all cuddling him, peacefully asleep.

Virgil sighed soflty and protectively curled up around them.

Between Borrower and Giant, the 20ft tall emo had to find his place in this two opposite worlds.

=====BBAG=====

BBAG: X/2/?

Leave a comment and a like if possible ^^

[lyraspace]

Spanglish (A Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends FanFiction)

There were times where Bloo just couldn't understand Eduardo, no matter how hard he genuinely tried.

If it wasn't a joke that translated poorly, ruining the punchline, it was the way Eduardo oftentimes used his native language to butt people out of a conversation he didn't want others listening in on. (Especially him, no fair!) And if it wasn't the millions of rules Spanish required for you to speak it properly, (What do you mean there's four words for car in Spanish?!) it was the way Eduardo belted out Selena Quintanilla lyrics in the shower EVERY morning. (And the only reason Bloo even knew who that lady was, was because Eduardo wouldn't shut up about her!)

In other words, Eduardo was better off using as little Spanish around him as possible.

The problem with that was, either Eduardo didn't get the memo, or he was too stupid to understand it.

It all started one Friday morning, and Imaginary Friends of all shapes and sized were locked in a heated completion of wit; Madame Foster's Friday Morning Breakfast Trivia.

Bloo was on a rather impressive winning streak, in spite of having Eduardo for his team partner (and only because everyone else had already formed their teams), and by the end of breakfast he was so close to victory he could taste it.

But on the last question, the very last question, Eduardo ruined everything.

The big lummox took it upon himself to shout some attempt at an answer in Spanish, and apparently that didn't count, giving some other team the opportunity to answer the question and win the competition.

And like that, victory slipped from Bloo's stubby little hands, leaving him with nothing but the very bitter taste of defeat.

As everyone leaves the dining room to do other things, Bloo stews in his fury and disbelief. Eduardo tries to touch his shoulder as a form of comfort, but he swats it away.

"Nice going, Eduardo!" Bloo shouts, "We were so close, and you just had to blow it! I've had it with you and all your Spanish! Why can't you ever speak some proper English for a change?"

"Lo siento, Azul," he says, shrinking in fear in spite of his larger size, "I know you really wanted to win."

Beyond frustrated, Bloo pinches the space between his eyes and turns away from him.

"Go. Just...just go, Ed."

Eduardo's face falls and tears well up in his eyes, but rather than starting to cry, he simply walks away.

Bloo sighs and turns to leave in the opposite direction, but he's stopped by an enormous Converse sneaker. He looks up to find both Frankie and Wilt looking down at him disapprovingly.

"Bloo, what on Earth was that back there?" Frankie asks, appalled.

"I'm sorry, but I have to agree," Wilt accuses pointedly, "that really wasn't cool."

"What did I do?" the blue blob whines, crossing his arms, "it's not MY fault we lost."

"You think we care about some stupid game of trivia?" Frankie says, "you really hurt Eduardo's feelings, Bloo."

"I don't get it, is all," Bloo argues, "with as long as he's been living here, he should be a lot better at English."

"I remember when Eduardo first moved in," Wilt recalls, defensively, "If you think he's not good at English now, he didn't know a lick of English back then."

"It was really hard to get him to come out of his shell with such a huge language barrier to boot," Frankie says, "Trust us when we say that the English he does speak now is a massive improvement. You should give Eduardo a lot of credit for that; learning a second language is a lot harder than you think."

"Alright, I guess I'll apologize," Bloo scoffs, waving an arm dismissively, "But don't catch me learning any Spanish anytime soon."

Seeing that there was no way to convince the blue blob to change his mindset, Wilt and Frankie shake their heads and go their separate ways. Bloo very quickly forgets about the conversation, as there was another, much more important thing to get ready for: a house-wide picnic at the park.

Everyone somehow manages to squeeze themselves on the bus, and soon they take off to pick up Mac from school, whom luckily enough had a half-day, so he could join in too. (And sleep over for the weekend! Bloo was so excited!)

They stop at the front of the school right as the bell rings. The doors open as a flurry of children run in multitudes of directions. Bloo opens his window near the front of the bus, leaning out to look for Mac in the crowd.

He puts a hand to his mouth and sends out a whistle that flies across the courtyard. A mop of familiar brown hair turns to face him, and he waves as Mac dashes towards the bus.

The boy and his creation crash into each other as the bus doors open and Mac flies through. They laugh and joke as the bus pulls away from the sidewalk and finally begins its journey to the park.

Mac turns in his seat to say hello to his other friends, and notices Eduardo staring out the window solemnly.

"Hey Bloo," he asks, "what's wrong with Eduardo?"

The blue blob turns in the same direction and rolls his eyes. "Don't worry about it, Mac," he says, "He's just being a big baby because I yelled at him a little."

The boy's head snaps around to face him, "Why the heck would you do that, Bloo?"

"I was THIS close," Bloo hisses, pinching two fingers agonizingly close to each other without touching, "to finally winning Madame Foster's Friday Morning Breakfast Trivia, and Eduardo just HAD to shout the final answer in Spanish. We lost, no thanks to him."

"Is that really worth being mad at him though?" Mac questions.

"YES!" Bloo exclaims, grabbing his creator by the front of his shirt, "When the winning prize is first dibs on Madame Foster's monthly batch of chocolate chip muffins!"

"That's no excuse." Mac frowns, "I want you to apologize to him."

"Mac, not you too!" Bloo whines, sagging in his seat.

"Yes, me too," Mac says, crossing his arms.

"You're like the third person to get on my case about it today," Bloo says, "What's so great about Spanish, anyway?"

"That a LOT of people speak it," Mac responds, "In fact, it's the second most spoken language in the United States. Who knows? In the future, there might be more Spanish speakers in the U.S. than English."

"Great, just what I need," Bloo groans, "MORE Spanish."

"If you took at least some time out of your day to acknowledge that the world doesn't revolve around you," Mac says,"You'll realize that Spanish isn't as bad as you think it is. You could even learn a thing or two from it."

An idea seems to pop into the boy's head.

"That reminds me!" Mac takes off his backpack to open it and dig through it's contents. He takes out a sheet of paper with lots of writing on it, the most prolific mark on it being a bright red A+. He leans over the edge of his seat to wave the paper in front of Eduardo.

"Hey Eduardo, I aced that Spanish test!" Mac says," Thanks SO much for helping me study; I would've flunked hard if it weren't for you."

Hearing that seems to cheer Eduardo up, because he starts grinning from ear to ear.

"Maravilloso!" Eduardo smiles, "I knew you could do it!"

"What'd I tell you, Mac?" Frankie calls to him from the driver's seat, "Eduardo is THE go-to guy for help in Spanish. I swear, I probably would have had to repeat the 11th grade if it weren't for him."

Seeing Eduardo smiling again is enough for Mac to sit back down in his seat.

"I still want you to apologize," Mac whispers to Bloo, stuffing his test back into his backpack, "sometime TODAY, please."

"Fine! I'm gonna!" Bloo whines, "Just quit nagging me about it."

Soon enough, the bus reaches its destination. All sorts of Imaginary Friends run off into their favored friend groups and enjoy all sorts of lawn games and delicious food. Bloo decides to spend most of that time with Mac, catching frogs and turtles by the edge of the pond and starting a massive water balloon fight, to Mr. Herriman's chagrin. Almost instantly, the morning's troubles seemed to just disappear from his mind.

The hours seem to fly by, and pretty soon it was almost time to pack up and go home.

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

The blue blob hesitates from stuffing an entire slice of pie into his mouth.

"Am I? What?" he asks.

"I thought you were going to apologize to Eduardo." says Mac, drinking from a can of soda (sugar free, of course), "You can do it right now. He's right over there, see?"

Bloo turns around to find Eduardo picking flowers a ways across the field underneath a large tree, without a care in the world.

"Why do I still have to apologize?" Bloo asks, "He probably forgot all about it by now."

"Because it's the right thing to do," Mac responds, crossing his arms, "You don't even need to make a big scene out of it. Just go over there, apologize, and be done with it. Admitting you were wrong isn't the end of the - "

Mac stops. He seems to notice something going on across the field.

"Who's that man over there with Eduardo?"

Bloo turns back around to find out what Mac meant. Sure enough, some strange man was standing underneath the tree with Eduardo. The conversation seemed to be going fine at first, but it suddenly takes a turn.

The man takes an aggressive stance, and soon enough, he's practically yelling so loud that everyone around them could hear it. While Bloo was too far away to decipher what was being said, it was quite clear that it wasn't anything nice.

Eduardo's reaction is immediate. He recoils in fear and clings to the tree like his life depended on it, digging into the trunk so hard bits of bark were chipping off. The man somehow takes this as an opportunity to step even closer to the Imaginary Friend and shout at him some more.

By this point Eduardo's crying, completely terrified of the man attacking him. Even though he was more than strong enough to beat the guy into next week, it was never in his nature.

So instead, he cries loud enough for everyone to hear:

"¡Déjame en paz!"

Oh no. This was bad.

Eduardo's English was clumsy at best on a good day, but everyone at Foster's knew that all comprehension of the English language just seemed to fly out the window whenever he was extremely upset. Nobody could really figure out why, but it was as if his brain simply refused to process any English whatsoever whenever he was like this.

Seeing it on full display was an awful sight. And it only seemed to make the man verbally assaulting him even angrier.

Bloo had seen enough.

Before he even knows what he's doing, and before anyone at the picnic table can stop him, he jumps from his seat and sprints across the field, without even realizing he still had the pie in his hand.

Getting closer to the confrontation, Bloo is able to hear some of what the man was yelling at Eduardo.

"I've had it with these illegal aliens; crossing the border, stealing our jobs." the man shouts, "And then their little anchor babies create Imaginary freaks like you than can't speak any English! This country's gone to the pits because of people like you!"

Bloo reaches the tree and steps in between the man and Eduardo, preventing the stranger from getting any closer.

"Hey pal!" Bloo shouts, pointing up at the man's chest, "What part of 'leave him alone' can't you understand?"

The man looks down at him dismissively. "You're his friend?" He asks, "I doubt it if he can't speak any English."

"Yes I am," the blue blob replies, defensively, "And while he isn't the best at English, he definitely tries his best! Meanwhile the only thing you seem to be fluent in is Bigoted and Stupid!"

The man's face scrunches up into a grimace.

"Great, look at what YOU'VE caused," the man says to Eduardo, who hides behind the tree even further,"if you just spoke some English like I asked, we wouldn't of had to drag other people into this!"

"You want some English?" Bloo asks, "Here's some English for ya: BACK OFF!"

Bloo kicks the man's shin as hard as he can. The man drops to one knee in pain, holding his already bruising shin with one hand, reaching for the blue blob with the other.

"Why you little - "

Bloo throws his pie right into the man's face, the force causing him to fall over onto his side, dazed, confused and out for the count.

Breathing heavily due to the adrenaline, Bloo stands over the man for a moment or two. Remembering who he was here for, he turns around to face Eduardo.

The larger Imaginary Friend is shaking in his boots, but at least he's let go of the tree. They stare at each other for a moment, the both of them still shell-shocked from the situation that just happened.

Bloo is the first to snap out of it. He crosses the distance between them and grabs Eduardo by the wrist, tugging him along gently. Eduardo doesn't resist, but remains silent as they walk away.

"C'mon, Ed. Let's get out of here."

The bus ride home is eerily silent. Nobody says a word to each other even as they arrive home, eat dinner, and get ready for bed.

Bloo feels a pit in his stomach as he brushes his teeth that night. Ever since it happened, the events of that afternoon were repeating itself in his mind, and it only made him feel worse. Bloo really didn't get why; he had done a good thing, so why did he still feel bad about it?

Why can't you ever speak some proper English for a change?

Oh yeah. That.

"I really screwed up today, didn't I?"

Mac takes his toothbrush out of his mouth and looks at him questioningly.

"I don't think Mr. Herriman is mad at you for what happened at the picnic." he says,"Everyone saw what happened."

"That's not what I'm talking about," Bloo sighs,"This morning, I was really close to sounding a lot like that jerk at the park, and I guess I realize now why you guys were upset with me."

He looks down into the drain of the sink.

"How on earth can I make it up to Ed?"

"Giving that racist a taste of his own medicine and getting Eduardo out of there was a pretty good start," Mac replies, "But I think we both know how you can fix this."

Mac jumps down from the sink and walks out of the bathroom.

"See you in the morning."

Bloo stares at himself in the mirror for a long time, realizing what Mac was saying. He hated it when Mac was right.

Walking into his room he finds that everyone else looked like they were already in bed. Bloo sighs; maybe he had waited too long to apologize. He climbs into bed and looks up at the bent mattress that Eduardo was laying on. So many thoughts were buzzing in his mind he feels like he was never going to get any sleep unless he tries saying something. Better now than never, right?

"Hey, Eduardo?" Bloo whispers, "You still awake?"

It's silent for a long moment, and Bloo begins to think that Eduardo was already asleep, but then the mattress creaks as the weight on it shifts a little.

"Si." Eduardo says.

"Look, about this morning..." Bloo starts, but falters, trying to figure out his words.

"I...I'm..."

He sighs, frustrated. Just spit it out already!

"Lo siento."

Bloo is taken aback by his own words. Did he just apologize in Spanish? That probably meant a lot more coming from him, considering everything that's happened today.

The room once more falls into silence. Bloo starts to wonder if the words he's said were too little, too late.

Suddenly, a large shape reaches down into Bloo's bed and grabs hold of him, yanking him up...

...into a great big hug!

Bloo feels like he's being squeezed so hard that his soul is leaving his body.

"Too tight, Ed, too tight!" the blue blob chokes, frantically tapping the larger Friend's arm. Thankfully, Eduardo loosens up and Bloo gasps a large breath of air.

"Aw jeez, Eduardo," he groans, "Enough with the waterworks, you're gonna get me all wet!"

"I wanted to say gracias," Eduardo sniffs, "Thank you for getting that mean man to go away."

"I had to make it up to you somehow," Bloo says, "You probably have to deal with enough jerks like that just for speaking Spanish. The last thing you need is crap like that from your own friends. Those muffins weren't worth being mad at you like that. They go stale after like one day anyways."

"You es a bueno amigo," Eduardo laughs, "When you es not a big meanie that es."

"What can I say?" Bloo smirks, "I'm the jerk of this friend group, nobody else! So if someone bothers you like that again, tell me, alright? I'll kick 'em into next week!"

Eduardo squeezes him again a little too tight for comfort, but Bloo decided not to complain. Eduardo had been though enough for one day; it wouldn't hurt to at least let him have this.

Bloo came to realize that while he might never fully understand Eduardo at times, he knew now that sometimes, friendship didn't need a language.

Perhaps, that's what made theirs so great.

THE END

[causeimhappinesss]

Like Adam & Eve (Chris Redfield x Sherry Birkin)

Pairing: Chris Redfield x Sherry Birkin

Warnings: age gap + smut + wrap your biscuit, please

Request:

Disclaimer: I’m french and even if I’m learning English for ten fucking years, it’s not perfect and I’m sorry if there are spelling or grammar mistakes. If English is your native language (or if you’re bilingual), I would really appreciate it if you could help me by correcting my errors. Just don’t be too harsh, please. :)

****

He was beautiful. So handsome. Tall. Muscular. In his early 40s. Intelligent. Open-minded. Honest. Brave. Selfless. All this despite his impulsiveness.

She had known him for years. Since 1998, after the events of Raccoon City and Rockfort Island, when she was under government protection. On several occasions, Leon and Claire had come to visit her; him with them. She was only 12 years old at the time. He was already 25. He saw her as a scared little girl. A child to defend from this cruel world, from her past with her parents... In 1998, the attraction she had developed towards him was only innocent, of course. With no ulterior motives.

The years passed and the number of meetings multiplied. The more she became a woman, the more she wanted to attract his attention, joking with him, telling him about her boyfriends to spark off some kind of jealousy deep in him. She voluntarily wore clothes that emphasized her feminine attributes, although she didn’t have JLO's curves...

For four years, their paths didn’t cross again, until June 2013. President Benford's death, Simmons' betrayal... But there he was. They hadn't been teammates because they didn't share the same mission, but the same conflict had brought them together. Once again, she had not been able to enjoy his presence, to savor it, except on the plane back to the United States.

Sitting between him and Jake, she chatted with Chris Redfield, Wesker's archenemy, her former godfather and her late father's best friend. She was talking to him, her eyes sparkly, her lagoon-colored doe eyes riveted on him, while a smile stretched her rosy lips. Her features, still somewhat juvenile, despite her 27 years, gave her a baby face. She was beautiful. Radiant. In spite of all that she had lived; horrors. He also had his fill of BOWs. Together, they were making up for the time and she even caught herself, almost innocently, sliding her hand over his bicep as she reassured him. Redfield was still not out of his mental breakdown. It had been going on for months and getting back on track was proving difficult.

"Would you like to drink a beer, one day?" she asked in a honeyed voice.

"Oh... I don't know, I'm exhausted..."

Yet his answer didn't make her face fade. The young blonde needed more.

"Oh, come on, Chris! Please, it's been ages since we've spoken... When's the next time? When there will be another bioterrorist attack?"she sighed with a pout.

"Well... Okay, but only once. I have a lot of work to do, you know."

A smile triumphed on Sherry's face as she simply nodded and thanked him. The brown hair man took advantage of it to go towards the toilets of the private jet and at the moment he disappeared in this cabin, Jake patted the shoulder of the blonde. A malicious smile stretched the fine lips of the redhead, clearly amused by the situation. He wasn’t blind.

"You devour him with your eyes, Birkin... What are you waitin’ for to ‘sweet-talk’?"

"I... He's not interested..." she stammered, embarrassed. These simple words reminded her of the day when Redfield had pushed her away, indirectly, without her knowledge. Jill and him were talking, in Claire’s garden, because she had organized a party where all her friends, fighting the bioterrorism, had been invited. It was a mistake. She just wanted to get some fresh air... A bad mistake.

It was hot. Way too hot inside. Sweat was clinging to her skin and even her glass of iced water, after the two glasses of alcohol she'd ingested, wasn't helping to bring her body temperature down. The summer of 2009 was proving to be more overwhelming than she had anticipated. The hubbub in the room was giving her a headache. Leon already seemed to be completely drunk and Claire was chaperoning him. Meanwhile, Sheva and Barry were talking to each other. There were also other agents she only barely knew. Discreetly, she fled the house and, immediately, her body tingled with the coolness of the night. It was pleasant.

Once again, she brought her glass to her lips and the cold liquid flowed down her throat. As she listened to the song of the crickets, whispers made their way to her ear canals. Curiosity overcame her and she moved towards the two voices; a woman and a man. She pressed herself against one of the walls, silent, and recognized who the voices belonged to: Jill and Chris.

"Don't you see how she's looking at you? Chris! You're blind!"

"Jill... Seriously, I think you're fretting over nothing. Sherry sees me as a big brother and I see her as a little sister or a cousin."

A sigh escaped the brunette's lips.

"I'm not fretting. There are looks that don't deceive... Look, I'm not jealous, but I'm telling you what I see. Put up barriers before she takes it as... An invitation."

"All right, if it makes you happy."

Heartbroken, hands shaking, stomach clenched, throat knotted, the little blonde went back inside and no one seemed to have noticed her short absence. She sat down on the sofa, next to Claire, putting back on her mask... The mask of a happy person. The man she had been interested in for eleven year saw her as a little girl, a sister.

What were you thinking, Sherry? He's been with Jill for ages, she's gorgeous, she has the look of a real woman... She's full of qualities. She's not a Birkin! her conscience shouted.

The barriers he put in place? He hadn't seen her in years. Four years, to be exact. It was extreme, and even though Jill had told him it was too much, he'd felt it was the right thing to do, if his girlfriend's assumptions turned out to be true. And while Chris had tried to reassure Jill, when they were still together, he was reassuring himself at first. He had observed her chest and her bottom, on several occasions, during a few seconds. He had almost drowned in her cerulean eyes too. It had become so difficult not to look at her.

Now, Chris, needed to be alone. Only two minutes and the bathroom would prove to be the perfect excuse. Now, in front of the stall mirror, he watched his reflection. Droplets of blood adorned a part of his right cheek. His blue eyes looked tired, lost.

You accept once and you make her understand that there will never be anything between you... Right?

There had to be. He couldn’t allow himself to build a relationship with a woman he had known as a child, it would be indecent and would call into question his image, his values. He was afraid of looking like an old pig, of proving Valentine right, even though they had broken up in November 2012. All these thoughts provoked profusions of sweat, that he tried to mop up with his back hand. When he closed his eyes, for a moment, the features of the beautiful Birkin came back to his face like a slap. Her angelic eyes, her superb smile, her cleavage, her butt... A bump formed inside his boxer, and his eyes widened.

It is tiredness, nothing else... he reassured himself.

And, in a vain hope, he imagined his grandmother in atrocious underwear, until his erection disappeared. Once sure of himself, he left the toilets, went towards Sherry and whispered: "we’ll agree on the place and the hour for the beerby message, tomorrow" and he moved away to find Leon, in full discussion with Helena.

Move away... Move away... Move away...

*

Sherry had done everything to make him come to her house, to drink the beer. She had tried to put on clothes that would highlight her, a simple skirt that didn’t reveal too much and a simple crop top with straps. He had arrived with five minutes of advance and quickly, the beer had been consumed. She hadn’t left him time to speak, to express his desire to break off all ties, to explain her there would never be anything between them, that she started up a movie. A comedy focused on sex, a strategic way to relax the atmosphere that was getting heavier. Indeed, the more she stayed by his side, the more she dreamed of letting her graceful fingers run over the protruding muscles of the man, from his arms, to his torso, passing over his thighs that she dreamed of straddling until the orgasm. She often dreamed of him, of what he made her, his dick inside her. From minute to minute, discrete, she approached him, by light movements, in natural although calculated appearance... Her ass was close to him, to the crotch of the B.S.A.A’s Captain.

He, Chris, had understood the stratagem. However, impossible to emit the least remark. Every time he opened his lips, he was unable to... hurt her. He knew if he said what was in his mind, he would hurt the young woman. Not to help, his cock was so close to Birkin's tender buttocks and her jasmine scent intoxicated him. She nibbled on her lower, wet, luscious, lower lip; a call to kiss. A new erection showed up and he was quite happy that the covers above them prevented the blonde from noticing it.

He tried his best to be focused on the movie, until a sex scene appeared on the screen. Embarrassed by this scene combined with his proximity to the blonde, he cleared his throat and looked away at Sherry's coffee table. Her crystalline laughter attracted his attention and he gazed at her. His cock continued to tense; it was becoming disturbing. The desire was growing and he was struggling. An internal struggle he wasn’t winning.

"Chris! Don't be embarrassed, it's only a movie and then... Well... I think it's funny how they make some positions look simple!" she said while batting her eyelashes. If she didn’t know yet the power that she possessed, it didn’t change the fact he wanted to devour her. To jump on her. Kiss her.

"That's because you haven't found the right partner..." he whispered.

He couldn't help it. It was the truth and... And what? His brain wasn’t running smoothly anymore. If only someone could shake him, slap him, to bring him back to his goals.

"Oh yeah? Explain to me..."

The blonde turned around and in her swiveling, her buttocks rubbed against his hard cock. The way she had rubbed herself wasn’t accidental, far from it, it was guessable. And he guessed she had felt his erection. A smile stretched Sherry’s lips who slid a hand on the thigh of the soldier, so close to his erect member. The blonde's eyes sparkled with excitement as she leaned over him. Chris gulped with difficulty. He dreamed to stroke her breast, to sink into her, to show her he was right.

"Show me, then." she added, of a suave voice.

She was the one who initiated the kiss by pressing her lips against his. With this last lost control, he let his hands wander on her beautiful body. His thick and calloused hands sought her chest, under her crop-top, whereas she wasn’t wearing a bra. He quickly removed the garment and tossed it somewhere in the living room. As he kissed Sherry, he titillated her breasts, her erected nipples. Soon, their lips pulled apart and he licked her nipples, drawing sighs of pleasure from his partner.

He no longer cared about what was right or wrong. If she was too young or not. If he had known her as a kid or not. It didn't matter.

Meanwhile, Sherry took off Redfield's shirt, slid her phalanges between each line of his abs, before attacking his belt. Once rid of this one, she opened the button of his jeans, then took his zipper down. She didn’t seek to get rid immediately of his pants. Instead, she stroked his hard cock through his boxers for a few moments, which made Chris sigh. Finally, she freed his cock from this confined place to admire it, her mouth watering. It was very thick, probably 7,4inches (19 centimeters) long, completely hard, veiny, with a pink head. Some pre-cum covered the tip. With a false look of innocence, she ran her fingers over his balls, on his cock, to the head, then placed kisses on it.

"Sherry..." breathed Chris, his eyes half-closed, watching her. She looked up at him and licked his cock. Again and again. After titillating him, she took him her mouth, her perfect lips wrapped around his member, moving back and forth with wet noises. She insisted on the most sensitive places, in particular on the tip, while she massaged his balls. Her heart beat was off the charts, following the example of that of his sexual partner.

She did everything to please him, to receive his compliments and when the first ones came, such as "nice girl", "oooh... perfect...", her heart swelled with joy. When he asked her to stop, she complied, moved her thong to the side and came to rub her wet intimacy against Redfield's penis as he grunted with excitement... With anticipation... She was having fun rubbing his head at her vagina entrance. She was torturing him.

"Chris... Tell me you want me..."

"Sherry..."

"Please. Say it. I want you so much... If I could make you my God, I would..." she squeaked without stopping her movements.

"Goodness, yes! I want you Sherry! I want you like I haven't wanted a woman like that in so long!"

That's all it took for the blonde to impale herself on Redfield's cock, not waiting for him to finger her. It was a waste of time in an unexpected situation she never thought she'd ever succeed to provoke. There she was, straddling his cock, with delicious moans. Sometimes, she threw back her head, sometimes she lowered her eyes on their sexes, watching this huge cock moving inside her, stretching her in the most pleasant way.

Chris couldn't believe it. It was as if he was a spectator... As if he was possessed... Yet he was heaving a great time and his thrusts joined Sherry's movements to help her. His hands had found their way on Birkin’s milky hips. Then, he made her roll and lie down on the sofa. He got rid of his pants and his boxer, just like her thong and the skirt. He penetrated her again in a grunt, folded the thighs of the blonde against herself and pounded in her of brutal pushes. Fast. A pleasant revenge for having provoked him... To have made him leave the right way.

She was Eve. He was Adam. The forbidden fruit? Her pink pussy, martyred by his cock.

The blonde moaned and she didn't need to play with her clit to get off. Chris was naturally gifted, as she had imagined in all her dreams since she was a teenager. He was hitting the right angle, the G-spot. It felt so good that she couldn't say anything except let her vocal cords do the talking... Just her luck that her downstairs neighbor had gone on vacation!

"God... Chris... Keep going... Like this...!"

He didn't stop, he let the pleasure continue to climb, until they were close to orgasm. He closed his eyes as her vaginal walls pulsed around him, like a soft vise around his cock, a sign that her orgasm was hitting her hard. She was cheering him. Struck by his own orgasm, Chris grunted and let his seed paint the blonde's walls. His cock throbbed after the four hot spurts of cum. With a sigh, he pulled out and opened his eyes again. His cum was flowing out of her still convulsing pussy in the most erotic way possible. Gradually he caught his breath and let Birkin's legs fall back. The latter was smiling, her face and chest pink.

My God, what have I done...?he thought.

Yet he didn’t escape like a thief.

*

No, instead, they often slept together. If he tried not to have any attachment, he couldn’t help but stay always longer than he should, whether it was in Sherry's bed, in her shower, or inside her. The more time he spent, the more addicted he became to her, like a drug. It was worse than meth. He couldn't get off it. Little by little, he was falling. No, in fact, he was falling in love with the one he had always denied himself.

Asleep, Sherry was sleeping naked, stuck against him, their legs intertwined, under the moonlight that filtered into the room. She hadn’t closed the shutters. One of her hands were flattened against one of his biceps. He contemplated her curves and her angel face. Tenderly, his fingers slid along the spine of his partner. He didn’t manage to sleep, torn between his duty and his desires.

He had obviously spoken about it to Claire who... Didn't see any harm in it. In fact, really open-minded, his young sister had advised him to start a relationship with Sherry, if he liked the blonde.

"You deserve that! Nobody can judge you when you bleed to save the world every day!" she had whispered while hugging him.

Did he love Sherry? Yes, he recognized the same signs as he had for Jill a decade earlier when he realized he was madly in love. Today, his heart claimed Sherry. Deep down, he knew she was waiting for this, she would accept to start a relationship with him, she was dying for it and if it frightened him a few weeks earlier, now the idea warmed his heart. In a tender gesture, he placed a kiss on Sherry's forehead, whose eyes fluttered as she awoke from her sleep. Slowly, her eyes opened and locked with Redfield's.

"What is it Chris...?"

"I'm sorry I hurt you so much..." he whispered in a husky voice.

The woman's eyebrows furrowed, and she straightened in the middle of the bed, inviting him to continue.

"All these years I knew you wanted me and I acted like I didn't know anything about it, pushed you away as much as possible and... Even though my heart was taken, I regret it. Sherry... I..."

He straightened up in turn and his thick hands framed Sherry's face.

"What I mean is... I love you. I'm a loser when it comes to love confessions, but it's been said."

The blonde burst out laughing then stole a soft kiss from him.

"All that matters now is that we're together. Okay?"

In the end, yes, that was all he cared about. Chris knew he had to think of himself and that meant loving Sherry without any remorse.

***

My AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/users/BetrayedWriter/profile

[kpophoneybunny]

Guardian Angels - Jaehyun x OC x Yuta - NCT Platonic Angst

A/N: This is completely selfish writing. I just wanted to write something to let out my feelings and work through my shit. Also none of the boys are the abusive partner. I couldn’t write that.

TRIGGER WARNING: detailed depiction of an emotionally and physically abusive relationship. Verbal and physical abuse. Xenophobic remarks. Yelling. Strong language. THIS ONE-SHOT IS VERY DETAILED ABOUT THE PHYSICAL ABUSE AND INCLUDES HEAVY VERBAL ABUSE. PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS IF IT WILL TRIGGER YOU.

Hayami backed away, her back hitting the wall, causing pain to rip through her bruised side. She covered her ears, starting to hyperventilate. “Stop it!” She begged. “Stop!” Her boyfriend punched the wall by her face, blocking her path so she couldn’t escape.

“Did you just raise your voice at me?”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please don’t...”

“You deserve it.” He grabbed her by the face and shoved her head back roughly so it’d bang against the wall.

“What the hell is going on here?” Jaehyun stood in the doorway of the gym, his jaw clenching as he looked between Hayami and the asshole she called her boyfriend.

“None of your business.” Noah snapped, grabbing the girl by the arm roughly and pulling her towards the locker room. She cried out in pain and bit down on her lip, following without protest.

“Hey! Don’t grab her like that!” Jaehyun rushed over and pushed him off of her. “You shouldn’t treat women like that. You shouldn’t treat anyone like that.”

“Jaehyun, don’t.” Hayami begged, tears welling up in her eyes. “You’re just making it worse!” Jaehyun glanced at her, noticing the swelling of her lip, the bruise forming on her cheek and another around her neck as if she had been choked recently. “Please. Just don’t get involved.”

“See? She doesn’t need you to save her. Stop playing the hero. She doesn’t want you here.” The male trainee jutted out his chin defiantly. Jaehyun could easily beat him in a fight but he didn’t want to do anything like that in front of Hayami. She looked scared enough.

“She won’t admit she needs help because she’s terrified of you.” Jaehyun stepped between the two, his back to the girl. “You hit her? That isn’t any way to solve problems.”

“She doesn’t have a single injury she hasn’t earned.” Noah tried to push past Jaehyun but he didn’t budge. “If she didn’t provoke me, I wouldn’t-“

“If you weren’t trash, nothing she did would make you even consider hitting her. Men don’t treat women that way.”

“Why do you care what happens to her? She’s a filthy foreigner, a nobody. She’s just a stupid, worthless little bi-“

“Shut. Up. Just shut the fuck up.” Jaehyun was seconds away from losing it completely. “I don’t care what shitty excuses you have. You aren’t going to lay a hand on her ever again. I don’t want to see you anywhere near her or any of the girls in this company ever again. If I catch you touching her, talking to her, even thinking about her, I will shut your shit down. Do you hear me?”

“Jaehyun-“ her voice cracked and she struggled to find the words to intervene successfully. She didn’t know enough Korean to stop them

“Don’t get involved in what doesn’t concern you.” The guy tried to push past Jaehyun again and Hayami decided to move around Jaehyun, hugging Noah and sobbing into his chest. “See? She’s choosing me. So back off.”

“No. Hayami, get away from that asshole. Please? Think of yourself. Look at what he’s done to you.” Jaehyun couldn’t believe what he was seeing. How long had this been going on? Why was she just taking it?

Yuta entered the gym and spotted the trio. By the look on Jaehyun’s face, he knew something was up. Hayami was practically wailing, trembling. Whatever it was, it was bad.

“What’s going on?” Yuta came over to stand by Jaehyun. Whatever it was, he trusted Jaehyun to be on the right side of the issue.

“This piece of shit is beating his girlfriend.” Jaehyun answered, eyes not leaving Noah’s face. “Can you believe he used the fact that she’s a foreigner as an excuse?”

Yuta’s eyes narrowed as he processed everything. Jaehyun’s explanation, the bruising and swelling on Hayami’s face. “You deserve better than this prick. Let us help you.” Yuta spoke in Japanese so that Noah couldn’t understand it.

“Hey! Speak Korean, asshole. And don’t talk to her.” He covered her mouth so she couldn’t answer. She began to cry harder, shaking her head at Yuta, silently begging him to back off. What if they made it worse? Noah seemed pissed enough already.

“Don’t do that. Let her speak for herself, punk.” Jaehyun ripped his hand off of her face and she immediately moved to hide behind Noah. “You don’t get to treat anyone like that.”

“Hayami, kid, please.” Yuta begged, his expression softening as he tried to coax her over, still speaking to her in their native tongue. “Please don’t let him treat you like trash.”

“Yuta, you don’t understand. He’ll only hit me harder after this.” She was starting to hyperventilate, her mascara running all over the place.

“That’s the problem. You shouldn’t even be worried about that. Let us protect you.” Yuta begged, heart breaking that she seemed to think that she somehow deserved this. “Please...”

She hesitated and slowly started towards her seniors. “Don’t you dare!” Noah grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her back, causing her to lose her balance and fall onto her butt.

“Hey! Let go of her!” Jaehyun’s hands curled into fists. He didn’t want to fight but he would if he kept pushing.

“Noah, I’m leaving you! I’m leaving you!” She sobbed, trying to stand up but being pushed onto her face, his foot on her back.

“No. You’re not.”

“Hey!” Jaehyun couldn’t hold back anymore. He shoved Noah off of her roughly and grabbing him by the shirt. “I’ll kill you. Get the fuck out before I send you to the hospital.”

Yuta rushed forward, carefully helping Hayami to her feet and holding her protectively. He thought of her as a little sister and seeing her getting abused, seeing her so terrified... it was making his chest ache. “It’s okay. You’re safe. I won’t let him hurt you.” He whispered as she trembled in his arms, as is scared that she’d get hit again any second.

“Get your hands off of my girlfriend, you bastard!” Noah glared at Yuta, trying to push Jaehyun off and starting to panic when he realized how overpowered he was. “Hayami, get away from him. Let’s go.”

“Don’t talk to her.” Jaehyun covered Noah’s mouth, squeezing roughly. “Are you scared yet? Yeah, Hayami probably feels that way every second of every day.” Noah began to whimper, terrified of being hit. “God, you’re pathetic. You aren’t even worth fighting.” He let go of him. “Get out before I change my mind.”

“Hayami, baby. Now.” Noah growled. She pressed further into Yuta who held her tighter in response.

“She broke up with you.” Jaehyun all but shoved Noah out of the room. “Now, I suggest you quit SM because the next time I see you, I might decide to actually follow through on putting you in the hospital. I didn’t because Hayami doesn’t need to see something like that. And a coward who picks on scared girls doesn’t even deserve to get hit like a man.”

Noah left, practically running off.

Yuta let go of Hayami, trying to get a good look at her to asses her for more injuries he hadn’t immediately noticed. She fell to her hands and knees, screaming and banging her fist on the floor. The boys watched in concern, both of them moving to kneel by her. “Hey, hey. Stop it. You’ll hurt yourself.” Yuta stopped her wrist and let go immediately. She sank into the floor, laying on her back and staring up at the ceiling, panting as she tried to catch her breath from crying and screaming. “We’re gonna take you to a hospital and then a counselor, okay? You need to see someone and get your injuries checked.”

“I did. An x-ray. I said I got into a fight with another trainee. I have a bruised rib, no fractures. But it could have been worse.” She bit her lip to stop it from quivering, covering her face with her hands.

“Okay. Any new injuries? Anything today?” Jaehyun looked her over worriedly. She nodded hesitantly and sat up, taking off her shoe and sock, rolling up the leg of her sweatpants. They both cringed at the sight of her bruised and swollen ankle.

“And he hit my head against the wall earlier. I’m still dizzy.” She admitted, slumping forward slightly. Yuta shut his eyes, trying not to picture what that would have looked like and how painful it must have been for her.

“If he ever bothers you, let me know.” Yuta held her hands, trying to get the younger girl to look at him. “But please let us get you some help.”

“How long has he been like that?” Jaehyun carefully felt the back of her head. She winced and tried to move away. He let her, not wanting her to feel trapped.

“A year now...” she mumbled. “Since the start of the relationship. I was scared of being alone. He helped me learn Korean so I... I kept him around. And he helped me lose weight. He controlled what I ate and called me fat so I lost a lot of fat really quickly.”

“God, Hayami...” Yuta couldnt imagine anyone putting up with that for a second, let alone a whole year. “If you needed help with Korean, I could have helped you. We speak the same language. I know how hard switching over is. And losing weight isn’t important. Being healthy is.”

“You were always so busy.” She looked down at her ankle. “I didn’t want to bother you.”

“Well, it’s not a bother. I’m looking out for you now so please come to me from now on.”

Jaehyun nodded, deciding that helping her was going to take priority over working out today. “We’ll be your guardian angels.”

A/N: I normally don’t have an a/n at the end but I just thought I should address a few things before you leave.

Between two previous relationships, I have experienced sexual abuse and assault, physical abuse, and emotional manipulation/abuse. (This isn’t for you to pity me. It’s so that people who are gonna try and say it’s inaccurate, or I don’t know what I’m talking about know that I DO in fact know. It took me a long time to admit to myself that I was abused and I don’t need you undoing that progress or invalidating my experience.)

If this has triggered you at all or upset you at all, I am so sorry. I, unfortunately am not currently in the right mental state to help anyone (hence, writing to let out all my pain instead of doing anything else) but please talk to someone you trust and practice self care.

It’s been over a year since the last abusive relationship ended and I am safe now so please don’t worry. I’m just working through some emotional aftermath.

[courage-a-word-of-justice]

Fairy Ranmaru 3 - 5 | TWEWY 3 - 5 | HGPC 6 - 12, 22 - 24 | Back Arrow 7

Adding the tag for Fairy Ranmaru, because that's the only anime I have really set for this season.

Fairy Ranmaru 3

· Update: For some reason, I didn’t quite realise he was speaking English the first time and then repeating himself in Japanese. It’s only a very short scene, which is probably how it happened.

· LOL, that one well-timed beam that only vaguely obscured Uruu’s butt…

· If I heard small Uruu right, he calls her okaasama and not okaasan.

· LOL, Asahi (morning) = Yuuhi (evening) beer.

· I wonder what’s up with Houjou? Is he gonna be evil, like (SPOILERS!) the manager in Mahou Shoujo Ore? Why doesn’t Houjou have wings, anyway? Update: Notice the main quintet get rid of the wings in some shots and then conjure them when necessary. It might just be Houjou hasn’t needed his wings yet…

· Hmm…I’ve been thinking about how Japanese HypMic fans buy lots of CDs and merch (crazy amounts, have you seen the shrines???) to do something similar, but their purpose isn’t really to keep their characters’ careers going in as much as it is to further a plotline…so is it really on the same level as this [buying all the photobooks for the sake of helping the relevant celebrity succeed]? I dunno, you decide.

· LOL, conveniently-placed light beams are really terrible this episode.

· …wow. That got…uh…suggestive (?) (I was really shocked when I saw that the first time. How did they manage to get away with that on late-night TV???)

· We went from Madoka Magica -> moe world -> ukiyoe world…what’s next?

· …uh…suggestive? (x2)

· They really like the pot theme, huh…?

· I dunno if that was meant to be poignant that Ranmaru said Uruu was crying on the inside, but…I laughed at it.

HGPC 6

· Wait, so why was Nodoka’s mum unemployed? Was she moving for work? Update: Seems she quit her job because Nodoka was hospitalised.

HGPC 7

· (no notes, sorry!)

HGPC 8

· SKY appears to be “Sukoyaka”. Update: Yep, later you see Chiyu with the track outfit and it says SKYK.

HGPC 9

· (no notes, sorry!)

HGPC 10

· (no notes, sorry!)

Back Arrow 7

· This general with the big beard kinda looks like Archie (from Pokemon).

· Hmm…I think I like Prax already, with the sole exception her Briheight looks rather similar to a palette-swapped Muga.

TWEWY 3

· This song must mean so much more to people who’ve played the game…(The OP, I mean.)

· Shoumetsu…it means “erasure”, technically. Will wait and see if it means more in context.

· Subaru using his normal voice as Beat. I think Ichiro is also his normal voice, or slightly gruffer and/or lower.

· Tower Records, as anime fans know, is an anime/music store. They’re well known for their “no anime, no life” stuff (exhibit A: the HypMic Rhyme Anima version).

· Ooh, Shibuya Marui. Reminds me of the one I saw in Akihabara.

· One of the signs in the back says “Shibuya First Bank”.

· “…1 Days” (sic).

�� Why do I seem to recall Neku can only use one of his badge powers as a time…? Where did I learn that from?...I don’t know.

· The final boss defeated in episode 3. There is surely more around the corner…

· Ohhhhhhhh! That’s a big twist!

TWEWY 4

· Parco = this department store chain. Known mostly for P’PARCO shopping centres.

· *opens calculator on computer* The square root of 10814 is 104…Shibuya 104. Update: It’s 109 in real life, but 104 here.

· Are those…crabs? *Crab Rave plays in background*

· The Reapers at the top have cardinal directions in their surnames, but Uzuki doesn’t. That’s because her first name means the 4th month of the calendar. Update: Kariya has the character for “hunter” in his surname, too.

· LOL, Yoshidaya (in the back, a parody of Yoshinoya).

· I wonder, why is Joshua’s power so similar to Neku’s fire pin…?

· Rhyme has “dream” as one of the kanji in her name.

· Kangaroo Noise…(*thinks about HypMic ARB* Not more kangaroos…) (<- kidding)

· Oh no! I read spoilers before this so I knew Beat was going to become a Reaper, but…oh nooooooooo!

HGPC 11

· Exploding dandelion seeds…now that’s novel!

HGPC 12

· Ah, so here’s Batetemoda’s intro…(he’s such a chuuni…)

HGPC 22

· Skipped a bunch of episodes because I saw them already.

· The decision to write “Asumin” without the U is a bit weird, I think, but still a valid one.

HGPC 23

· (no notes, sorry!)

HGPC 24

· (no notes, sorry!)

Fairy Ranmaru 4

· LOL, he (Juka) tossed poor Bakkun…

· LOL, censorship bottles.

· Brass ring. I’d never heard of the term before and I’m an English (kinda-)native speaker. (Technically Cantonese is my first language, but English is my best.)

· Did you see Uruu’s rubber duck?

· Bakkun’s a couch now! Cute!

· …so basically, Juka is a healer. Got it.

· Note how the F is green now…

· I always look away at the kiss scenes. They’re a bit of a waste of time, methinks.

· LOL, the randomly-placed effects and beams over Juka’s bits.

· Oh, Sunflowers. That would explain why Starry Night is Juka’s painting in the OP, like Uruu’s is the Great Wave.

· …and here’s Starry Night now, right on cue.

· JKRM???? (Shouldn’t that be L…?)

TWEWY 5

· The A in “CAT” looked slightly like it had cat ears.

· Wait, if this was with flip phones back in the day, did they still have apps then…? Or was it programs?

· Ooh, orange badge.

· ”Fresh Humburger”, LOL.

Fairy Ranmaru 5

· Note the opening segment has a plain chatreuse background for Ranmaru (aside from a scratched effect, like someone’s rubbed a pencil lead over it), fireworks for Homura, the Wave for Uruu, Starry Night for Juka and…I don’t know what Takara’s is, but it’s bright yellow and has spots on the edges.

· LOL, Bakkun’s use of sauces. If they only eat curry, why do they have tomato sauce and mustard, anyway…?

· I don’t think I ever properly understood what “out to lunch” meant…”temporarily not in command of one's mental faculties.” There you go!

· The sign’s F is gold this time…

· Yeah, around when she said “you bought all my vegetables”, I noticed the boxes said “carrots”, “potatoes” and so on. I didn’t even know “carrot” had kanji until yesterday, believe it or not (and I learnt that from a HypMic fan comic…*sweatdrops* Samatoki hates carrots).

· I dunno why, but men in anime sure seem to be proud of eating meat…

· LOL, weirdly-placed light beams over Takara’s butt. (I don’t know whether to call the staff “cowards” for refusing to showing the full butt or not.)

· Even the money has pots on it! I love how this anime keeps on going with that joke…(lel?)

· As it turns out, fuhen means “unchanging”. Yaochou likewise means “fixed game”, but it’s a pun on the word for “grocer” (八百屋, readyaoya and sharing the first two kanji, hence the English translation of “Fixed Grocer”).

· Oh! I had to think about it a little, but Ruise = Seiru (sale) backwards. (Update: Sort of, there's a line in the middle that has to be covered for with the I.) “Oshida”, I think, is meant to mean “authority”, so to put that with Fuhen would mean something like “eternal authority [over Ruise and her dad, due to their debt]”. Update: You know when the bull gets pushed out of the ring? That’s called oshidashi.

· Hmm? That star badge Takara wears in human form seems to be that yellow thing on his shoulder in fairy form.

· Hmm…come to think of it, “bull” was the name of a type of stock market speculator…What a pun!

· Why does Takara keep licking his lips???