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narugen-moved · 4 months ago

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I love blurred lines and broken walls so much!!!

What do you think a fic idea with cat shifter!Hoshina, who's a little nippy at first but quickly warms up to Mina's unrelenting love and affection for cats?

JAW DROP A HOSHIMINA ASK

first of all thank you so so much for coming here to tell me omg that means so much 🥹🤍🤍🤍🤍 i’m so happy you enjoyed it!!

also erm just expanded on ur idea a “little” under cut LOL i went crazy I MIGHT ACTUALLY WRITE IT? gid bless u

secondly IH MY GOD CAT SHIFTER HOSHINA NOT KNOWING WHAT ITS LIKE TO BE LOVED AFTER BEING ABANDONED NUMEROUS TIMES BEFORE… as a cat.. as a human… so he lives his life wondering as a stray cat wondering if there’ll ever be someone who’ll love him…. cue ashiro mina…. mina whom he finds one day, aged 18, crying her eyes out (let’s say this is an au and kafka is going to a different country or something he’s #successful and uhhhh idk he’s just leaving Her and she’s SO upset about it but in true mina fashion all she can do is wish her best friend well and cheer him on…. but she is so lonely…)

if we wanna make it a bit older. maybe office worker mina, 25, feeling like such a mundane life is Not for her.. and she keeps making mistakes at work and she’s so frustrated. also crying but not really and hoshina notices her and he doesn’t really know what’s going on - doesn’t even reach out to humans (or other cats, cat shifters) alike but he finds himself drawn to her so he walks up to her in his cat form and bumps his head against her ankles…

something something she loves cats so much and this felt like fate (but also omg imagine if she’s SCARED of adopting another after losing miko when she was a kid) and she thanks him for accompanying her but god. she wants to bring him home so bad but she just Can’t.

until they keep running into each other bc she passes by this park on the way to the train station and HES ALWAYS THERE waiting for each morning and she starts bringing food for him. never forgets to leave without giving him chin scratches. somehow after that going and coming home from work isn’t so awful anymore.

bc she knows she’ll get to see hoshina (cat) and omfg imagine what if one day it’s fucking storming. typhoon warnings and mina made it home before it started getting bad but it’s raining and she’s searching all over the damn park for hoshina bc she can’t just Leave Him outside and she’s drenched by the time she finds his cat form hiding under a tree/in bushes/whatever and she’s SO RELIEVED. she places him in the safety and warmth of her coat, against her chest and makes the mad dash home…

I CSNT STOP KEEPING THE WORDS FROM FORMIMG BUT LISTEN LISTEN. AND THEN SHE SNEEzes and hoshina cat places a paw on her face like: bless you and she’s still scared (of loss) but decides. after the storm. she’ll get all the supplies she needs. and and and then hoshina starts living with her and and and hoshina is Genuinely so loved for once in his damn life and he’s so ARGHHHHHHHH

picture this: ur a fucking cat guy who never had anybody keep u for long. always getting abandoned. have braved through storms and winters alone and cold and that was fine until one day u understand what it’s like to be wanted (because a human, drenched to the bone, hair soaked and curling against her forehead breathing a sigh of Relief, upon finding him in the rain? hoshina can’t get that sight out of his mind even if he Tried)

and he’s so scared of fucking up bc SHE likes him as a cat. in his cat form so he tries his best control his powers but one day . idk what’s the criteria for shifting but he shifts one day (because. there’s a reason actually. he wishes he could Hug her sometimes. the way she hugs him but his little legs and paws aren’t enough to show her how much he wants to return her affectionate gestures and-)

and one day mina is SICK down with such a high fever he doesn’t need to shift to know she’s burning up and he thinks. he’ll apologize. maybe leave if she kicks him out. but he needs to do something for her he wouldn’t be able to as a cat (buy medicine, cook for her because he knows quite a bit, etc) and mina is delirious, she has to be, as she drifts in and out of consciousness seeing someone who..? whom she doesn’t know but feels like she’s known for ages take care of her and she manages to croak out a weak hoshina before she calls back asleep to the feeling of a cool hand and even cooler towel on her forehead GOD I COULD GO ON FOR AGES and mina thinks the entire thing must’ve been a dream but she wakes up to warm soup on her bedside, her cat (hoshina) curled up against her in bed and she can’t make sense of it Now. but she will. when she’s feeling better.

I HAVE SO MANY IDEAS FOR THIS CAN U FUCKINH TELL UR MAKING ME GO BONKERS HERE ANON anyway she sits him down at the dining table and it’s comical seeing him sit on the table as she sits on the other end dead serious like. Do You Know What Happened.

and cat hoshina is like mrmrf (cat noise) but he’s so adamant on not revealing himself bc he’s so Afraid.

and then she tells him that she’ll love him no matter what and he’s like Poof instantly and he has to get down from the fucking table bc HELLO THIS WASNT SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN AND TJEY GAPE AT EACH ORHER IN SHOCK AND ITS THE FIRST TIME HES TRANSFORMED WITHOUT HIS CONTROL???

she doesn’t scream. she doesn’t hurl insults. she doesn’t call him a freak. she simply stares blankly at him and goes. Oh.

“makes sense.”

“??????”

in tears and then they lived happily ever after the end bc. god knows id write out the whole outline here if i let my brain keep going

#anonymous #asks #idea bank #hoshimina

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imraespace · 1 year ago

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ABOUTME

IMARA ! ╌ a swahili name that means "strong," "firm," and "stable," perhaps hinting at your little one's inherent strength and power in navigating life's challenges.

sixteen y/o (08) who really loves animanga and games.. maybe writing stories to run away from reality as well.

wait noww!! my primary account is @ilovelinkk want to be mutuals? just ask in my inbox!

HOLD ON ╴what does imara even likes ?

she loves animanga such as..

hunter x hunter (#1 FAV !!) , cardcaptor sakura (#2 FAV !!) , bleach (#3 FAV !!) , great priest imhotep , spy x family , clannad , kimetsu no yaiba , jujutsu kaisen , blue lock , magi the labyrinth of magic , tokyo ghoul , tokyo revengers , a sign of affection , soul eater , naruto , fire force , nanbaka , chū-2 , kirby right back at ya! , etc..

she also loves games like..

final fantasy xv (#1 FAV !!) , final fantasy vii (#2 FAV !!) , kingdom hearts 2 (#3 FAV !!) , final fantasy ix , final fantasy x , kingdom hearts 1 , kingdom hearts 358/2 days , legend of zelda: twilight princess , legend of zelda: skyward sword , legend of zelda: breath of the wild , dungeons and dragons , baldur's gate 3 , romance club , love and deepspace , wuthering waves , honkai star rail , roblox , minecraft , resident evil 2 , resident evil 3 , resident evil 4r , etc.

LETS MAYBE END IT OFF WITH SOME FACTS..

my name is imara but surprisingly, almost everyone pronounces it wrong! so everyone just calls me mara. (its pronounced as ih-mar-uh)

when you remove the " i " from my name which gives you mara, its the name of a demon, a goddess of winter, death, harvest, the underworld, witchcraft and nightmares, it also means death and bitter.. so um yay? its also literally used a curse in hsr i always think someone is calling me when i hear it LMAO

im african-trinidadian! so i live in the caribbean and speak trinidadian english creole, which is basically made up of words or phrases we made up(?) and words influenced by different countries such as china, french, spanish, other east asian countries and etc. irl but online im a whole different person aha! so sorry for grammar errors/phrases that makes no sense, its the dialect..

my birthday twin is.. yuuta(jjk) who's coinky dink my 2nd favorite character in jjk! my first is suguru, third is megumi and fourth is inumaki! my birthday is also march 7th's name so haha

i grew up with kingdom hearts, watching my brother played it at the age of 3 and also tried to eat the CD.. and also grew up with final fantasy! maybe thats why its my top fav games.. i also had a crush on ben drowned, maybe thats where my obsession for loz came from.

arcane is my favorite show, vi being my most favorite character! i also tried out league of legends bc of her, fun game! but wont recommend.. its fr hard to play and dear god the players..

imraespace came from my dungeons and dragons oc, called imrae armgo. i was really into dnd when i made this blog. one day i really wanna learn how to draw her!

vtubers, some maybe cringe but i do watch some, such as sunkenji, imkaivt(hes my fav omg), doctordeath and omi_vt. kenji, kai and doc are funny i love them while omi is oddly funny with his cooking streams. he just needs to learn how to stay clean..

idk if youve noticed the trend but im oddly into ancient egypt, seeing how ive read great priest imhotep, watched and read magi the labyrinth of magic, and kai(imkaivt) being my favorite. i didnt mention this part but in romance club, my second favorite story there is song of the crimson nile, first being kali: call of samsara(this isnt egypt, its indian). my favorite egyptian god is thoth!!

secretly into love island usa, the drama is funny esp kaylor crying.

#imraespace -♡#about me

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l223m0nade · 2 years ago

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Novelty

Here it is! Just a little fic of Bucky in Wakanda having flower allergies and being a cute mess. 🌼💐🌸🤧 hope yall enjoy!!!!

Steve and Bucky walked along a path through Wakandan jungle, in the thick, lush forest that lay between Birnin Zana and the border village where Bucky spent much of his time.

The topics of their conversation ranged from Shuri’s genius-teenager antics in her lab, to Steve and the other fugitive Avengers’ globetrotting stealth missions, to the finer points of goat herding Bucky was learning, to shared memories from the past they were rediscovering together.

“God, he was a sonofabitch,” Bucky chuckled as they finished recalling a story about a prank they’d pulled on Murray, the bully of a dock manager Bucky had worked under in ’37.

Steve was guffawing with the memory, but noticed as Bucky scrunched his nose and then turned to the right, sneezing a soft, sudden “h-tchssh!” into his wrist and stumbling from it just a little.

The sight didn’t worry him—Bucky had only been out of cryo a few weeks, and while he was mostly adjusted to the missing weight of the metal arm, occasionally some residual tipsiness showed through in his balance. Sneezing was a little unusual for a supersoldier, but Steve was too busy giggling to give it any thought.

“I can’t believe I’d almost forgotten that!” he gasped.

The combined joy of having someone to reminisce about the lost world of his youth with, that person being Bucky, and Bucky chiming in to fill gaps in Steve’s memories, was enough to make him giddy. He felt like he could laugh all day.

“The whole thing was YOUR idea!” Bucky exclaimed. His own laughter was still dying down, until his breath caught, and his head snapped aside as more sneezes urgently overtook him: “hh-itsch—itsch! ITschoo!”

Eyebrows raised, feeling the rise of his awkwardly intense brand of worry where Bucky was concerned, Steve said, “Bless y—”

“Tschoo! ih-hitschiew!” Bucky’s nose interrupted as he sneezed yet again.

“Jeez, Buck! What’s got you doing that?” The last time he’d heard that many sneezes from his friend, maybe the last time he’d heard any, had been sometime like ’41, the last time he’d passed one of his interminable winter colds along to Bucky when they lived together in the drafty tenement apartment, before both of them changed forever into heroes that didn’t catch the sniffles. At least he thought they didn’t. Even then, as he recalled, they hadn’t sounded like these quick, ticklish, insistent flurries.

Bucky sniffed and rubbed his nose furiously while casting his gaze all around. “’S that fuckin—where is it…” he muttered. He was searching the surrounding vegetation for something. “There! Augh.” He pointed off the path. “See—those purple—h-tchoo—flowers,” interrupting himself with a small uncovered sneeze.

Steve peered in the direction he indicated and saw a small thicket a few yards off the trail of what looked like ferns festooned with purple blossoms, bobbing in the gentle breeze. He turned an incredulous look to Bucky, who was still sniffing itchily and rubbing at his nose. “What, you’re allergic? Can that even happen to us?”

“Apparently so!” scoffed Bucky, waving his hand at his rapidly pinkening nose and watery eyes. “Far as I remember I never had an allergy before in my life. But there’s all kinds of plants here that don’t grow anywhere else. Snff! Finally figured out it was those ones —hih— makin’ me…sneeze…” he trailed off, but shook his head and rubbed his nose with a vengeance and managed to shake the tickle off. “Thought I knew which spots to steer clear of. Now I’m gonna be like this- SNFF!- for the next three damn…hh-hours…

...huh…hh-h-Gnxtch! Mmptch—mmptch—HENKtchiew! Huh-esshha! Fuck!” He was overtaken by rapid sneezes that he tried to stifle into his hand, only half-succeeding, before letting the last one out with exasperation.

“Wow. Bless you! You alright?” There was that worry again. Ever since they’d been reunited it was all Steve could do at any given moment to stop himself from hovering over Bucky, flapping his arms like a literal mother hen.

Bucky shot him an amused look through his narrowed watering eyes, like he knew just what he was thinking. “SNfff-snfff! Been a whole lot worse, pal, trust me.”

The words might have been wry, but he said them sincerely, with his warm, crinkle-eyed smile, the one that had been so familiar on the Bucky of the past, but was new and miraculous to see spreading across his face here and now. It had only reappeared these last few weeks, since Bucky had been brought out of cryo, tested the Winter Soldier trigger words, and found himself free for the first time in 70 years. Steve breathed through a surge of emotion and kept himself from whooping, grabbing Bucky and spinning him around, or anything else he felt like doing at the sight of that smile.

“I sound like you used to in May,” Bucky remarked, sniffing again, pulling out a bright scrap of cloth and blowing his nose quietly. He quirked his eyebrows questioningly at Steve, asking for confirmation —“Right?”— without saying anything.

“Ugh,” Steve said, remembering, “yeah, but I was even more of a mess.” Bucky chuckled, stowing his handkerchief to rub his hand over his whole face repeatedly. “Which is how I know that—” he swatted at Bucky’s hand, “only makes it worse.”

“It itches,” Bucky growled petulantly, giving his eye a final rub, and grumbling, “like you ever followed any advice about feeling better when it was you.” He looked like he was about to embark on a Stubborn Sick Small Steve tale from the winters of the 1930s, but then paused, blinking rapidly, and ducked his head, to the left this time, with a quick “hih-kshchoo!”

Since he lacked an arm to sneeze into on that side, the soft spray caught Steve on the elbow and forearm, and he yelped a bit in surprise at the sensation.

“Sorry!” Bucky exclaimed, sniffing and laughing and not sounding very sorry at all. Steve was glad he wasn’t embarrassed, and despite his initial reaction he’d let Bucky sneeze on him a hundred times if it’d make him laugh like that.

“Every once in a while, I still forget,” he explained, gesturing to the empty space on his left side. “I’m used to doing most everything one-handed now, but I guess not snee—hih—heezing…heh...” he scrunched his nose and hitched, scrambling to grab the handkerchief and sneeze into it, “huh—tdschoo! eh-mptschuh! huh-gnxtchoo! etchumpff—tchmpff!” He emerged sniffling from the cloth, looking ridiculously pink and bleary, blinking and shaking his head and getting caught totally off guard by one last little tickly tsshiew! that burst out before he could do anything to cover it.

Steve knew well, from his own experience before the serum: allergy attacks were annoying, really annoying, to go through. But, God, he couldn’t help it— he snorted and then let out a peal of laughter as Bucky glared his itchy eyes at him. The scowl remained as Steve stifled his giggles and Bucky blew his nose, but Steve could tell he was smiling under the cloth.

“You poor guy,” he chortled and then dodged with a squawk as Bucky feinted whipping him with his sodden hanky. “C’mon, Sneezy, let’s get back to your place. I’ll show you how nice that wet cloth you used to put over my eyes feels.”

#love these guys #and they love each other #Steve is a goober with a giant crush and a lot of emotions #cute allergic bucky #cute sneezy Bucky #snzfic #wakanda jesus bucky #happy belated 40th!! to Seb

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artificialdaydreamer · 4 years ago

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A somewhat late fic for @jonsimsandcats day.

Jon is a god of cats whose cat followers report that a beast has taken up residence in the wood outside of town and is causing trouble. Jon, unable to say no to helping cats agrees to get rid of this beast only to run into Martin, who is also searching for it.

Warnings for mild injuries to animals and people

—

Jon woke to find a pair of slitted eyes staring at him. It was not an unusual occurrence, he couldn’t go anywhere without the local cats greeting him, or letting him know of problems they were having. He was, after all, the god of cats. They were his followers and his messengers, and in return he gave them protection and knowledge. It was more unusual to not wake up with several cats sleeping on top of him. The tabby blinked slowly at Jon, he blinked back, and it settled on his lap, its fluffy tail swishing from side to side.

The building he’d fallen asleep in was technically a temple to him but humans rarely visited it so it had fallen into a state of disrepair. It was still a sanctuary for cats, they knew that within its walls they could be safe and warm while they slept, but the only other being that really came inside it was Jon. He tried to keep the fireplace lit in winter and set out bowls of fresh water, but there was only so much he could do. It wasn’t like he could fix the cracked windows and provide an unlimited supply of food, he just wasn’t that powerful.

The God of Cats and Curiosity was not a god people often prayed to, not until winter fell and mice invaded grain stores. Cat owners would occasionally set something on their mantle in offering to him, a saucer of milk or a piece of dried meat, but more often than not it was the cats themselves who honored him. He could understand what they said, and sometimes they were the only creatures he talked with for years. In a world where belief was what made a god strong it was a miracle he hadn’t faded away altogether.

“Hello, master,” a voice sounded inside Jon’s head as the cat purred. He stroked its ginger fur and it rubbed its head against his hand. “I have news from the others in town.”

“Oh?”

“They say a beast is lurking in the forest, it has already affected the supply of prey, and several cats who stumbled across it were wounded by it. If we cannot go hunt in the woods we won’t have enough food.” This was news to Jon, a beast in the forest? Not only was it killing animals it had hurt some of his followers, those he’d sworn to protect. His stomach churned at the thought of how they must have felt, had they prayed to him for help? Had he been too far away to hear them?

“Take me to them.” He started to get to his feet, the cat jumped off his lap as he straightened his clothes, making sure the hood of his blue cape covered his pointed ears completely. Despite being a god he couldn’t change his form, or hide the ears and tail that revealed what he was, so he relied on human clothes like skirts and hoods to disguise himself.

The tabby wound its way between his legs before heading towards the door, and Jon followed. The street was quiet, a few humans passed them but it seemed early enough in the day that a lot of them weren’t up. Turning down an alley he saw a pile of crates had been left in a niche and several cats had made themselves comfortable in it, there were even a few blankets and pillows. On one threadbare cushion lay a female tortoiseshell with cuts on her back, the wounds had scabbed over but dried blood streaked her fur and she couldn’t move without hurting.

“You poor thing.” Unwrapping the cloth belt from around his waist Jon dipped it into a dish of water someone had laid out nearby and began to dab at the cuts. The cat hissed, pupils narrowing into slits, but she didn’t scratch him. She knew who he was and what he was doing here. It took hardly any effort to soothe the tortoiseshell, to numb the pain as he cleaned her wounds. The last thing he wanted was to heal the cuts only to have her get sick because he hadn’t ensured they were dirt-free first.

“Thank you, master.” The tortoiseshell butted his hand with her head. “It is an honor to meet you.”

“There’s no need to thank me, I apologize for letting you get hurt in the first place.”

“That was not your fault, master. You could not have known the beast would start lurking in the forest.” The cat shook her head, her tail sticking straight up. “The world is a dangerous place, you cannot be everywhere, even if you are a god.”

Sighing, Jon nodded, his own tail flicking from side to side in agitation. She was right, but it still hurt to know that he could not protect all of his followers from harm. Despite being a god he wasn’t very powerful, people just didn’t pray to him enough. He could look through the eyes of other cats nearby and bless them with safety for a limited time, but his power was finite. Anything more than a league away from him was hard to sense, although it hadn’t always been that way. “I’m looking for the beast, would you mind telling me where you encountered it?”

“I can show you.” Getting to her feet the tortoiseshell stretched deeply.

“Lead the way.”

—————

The forest was dense, trees crowded tight together and thick grasses that made it hard to maneuver, if it wasn’t for the narrow footpath made by other travelers Jon would be miserable. A short distance ahead of him the tortoiseshell cat led the way, showing no sign that her earlier injuries were still paining her. Every so often sunlight would find some way through the thick canopy of branches overhead and illuminate their surroundings, although they both could see in the dark just fine. Jon wasn’t sure how long they’d been walking, but when huge pawprints had been practically gouged in the path he insisted the cat ride on his shoulders for the rest of the journey.

“What kind of animal is this beast?” Jon muttered, ihe tracks were bigger than his hand, and while they appeared to be made by some kind of dog they were far larger than most he’d seen. As they progressed Jon saw several trees with claw marks on them and he started to feel anxious. Sure, he was technically a god, but he’d never really been in a fight before. He wouldn’t necessarily die, not from physical wounds, and he did heal faster than the normal human but that didn’t mean he wanted to get hurt. He didn’t even have a weapon to defend himself.

Somewhere in the trees ahead of them a branch snapped, then another. Jon braced himself as he heard footsteps approaching him, growing faster and louder until he saw a huge brown thing burst out from behind a bush and race towards where he stood. It was all he could do to cast a simple protective spell on the cat and drop her on the ground before the thing knocked him over. His head hit hard-packed earth and the world went dark.

“-right?” A voice sounded from somewhere nearby, sounding concerned but Jon was in too much pain to register much more. He willed his body to heal itself, to reduce the swelling and stop his head from throbbing with every beat of his heart. Slowly, agonizingly slow, he found that he could open his eyes, although the world itself was a blur of green and black. “Hello? Can you hear me?”

Just as his eyes adjusted he saw a face staring down at him, their expression worried. A human? Sitting up so fast his head swam Jon checked to see that his hood was still in place. It had shifted somewhat when he fell, but his ears were thankfully still covered. The human had curly orange hair and a round, friendly face, although they still looked anxious. Next to them sat a dog, a huge fluffy thing, even sitting it came up to Jon’s chest, with light-brown fur everywhere but its face and ears, which were black. Was this the beast?

“Are you alright? Did he hurt you?” The human’s voice was high-pitched and laced with concern. Jon shook his head slightly, but winced as pain sparked behind his eyes.

“I’m fine.” Regardless of how worried this human was, Jon didn’t want them looking at him too closely, the last thing he needed was for them to find out just what he was. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh!” They looked surprised. “I was looking for my dog; they ran off and, well, it’s not like I can stop him if he wants to go somewhere.”

“You own this thing?”

“Well, I guess you could say that. His owners couldn’t take care of him because they had another baby on the way and...” The human trailed off, freckled cheeks flushing pink. “Anyway, I’ve taken in strays before so they felt comfortable giving him to me.”

Jon didn’t really care about where the dog came from, but looking at the size of its paws gave him an idea. “I’ve been told there’s some sort of beast attacking animals in the woods, and I found tracks and claw marks on the path-”

“It’s not him! I know what you’re talking about- I’ve had to take in a whole bunch of wounded animals recently- so I came out here to try and find this ‘beast’ too.” Their voice rose an octave, eyes widening with fear. “I brought Silas with me because I thought he could maybe track it somehow? I know he’s not really a hunting dog but still...”

“Has it?” He scanned the ground nearby and found the tortoiseshell cat hiding behind a tree just off the path. Kneeling down Jon held out a hand to her. “I’m sorry, darling. Are you alright?” The cat approached him cautiously, eyes darting to the dog every so often, and he scooped her up in his arms.

“What?”

“Has it tracked the beast?” It was hard to keep from rolling his eyes, Jon didn’t care much for rambling when he had something to do. He absentmindedly stroked the tortoiseshell’s head, trying to reassure it.

“N- No... I thought he had but he just found you.” The human gave a shy smile. “How do I know you’re not the beast?”

Jon stiffened, his ears flattening against his hair and his tail bristling. In his arms the cat hissed angrily. “Do you even know who you’re talking to?”

“Calm down, let me handle this.” It was clear this human had no idea they’d just insulted a god, but as much as Jon wanted to curse them for the accusation he was here for a different reason. “If you don’t have anything helpful to say then this is where we part.” He continued to comfort the cat as he pushed past them and continued on the path.

“W- Wait!” Glancing over his shoulder Jon saw the human was following him. “I mean, we both have the same goal, don’t we? We both want to find this beast and stop it from hurting the local animals. Why don’t we look for it together?”

“I can’t stop you from following me.” Jon sighed and tugged his hood farther forward. He had a feeling that he’d made the wrong decision, but he’d spoken the truth. Besides, this human was larger than he was, with them and the dog he might stand a chance against this beast.

They walked in silence for a while, but like all good things it didn’t last. “I just realized I never got your name; I’m Martin, Martin Blackwood.”

“Jon.” He didn’t feel much like talking, especially since he was trying to listen for any strange noises.

“Just... Just Jon?” The human- Martin- seemed dissatisfied at his answer.

“That’s all I’m willing to share with you.”

“Right, that’s fine,” A pause. “Are you a man?” When Jon glared at them Martin turned bright red. “It’s just, I don’t want to misgender you, that’s all. I’m a man, he/him pronouns.”

“I don’t really see the point of gender.” Jon sighed, pulling on his hood as his ears were flicking enough from irritation he feared it might fall down. “He/they, I guess.”

“Got it.” Martin was a few paces behind, his footsteps louder than Jon’s. “I’m guessing you’re also an animal lover, given that you’re also searching for this beast.” Jon wanted to scream, could this human not be quiet for five minutes?

“Yes, which is why I’m trying to track it. That being said, if it makes noise I will be unable to hear it because you keep talking.” Glancing over his shoulder Jon saw Martin stiffen, his cheeks still flushed from embarrassment. Thankfully he didn’t say anything though, and Jon could have cried from relief.

They continued on, neither of them making a sound as they trudged through the woods, occasionally the dog would run ahead and sniff at a tree or patch of earth but thankfully it didn’t bark. Eventually they arrived in a clearing only to find more tracks in the dirt, the same ones Jon had seen on the path. He was about to say something to Martin when some bushes rustled and a giant wolf leapt towards him.

Having a huge animal knock him over once already that day Jon was more alert, and while he managed to avoid the worst of the beast’s attack its claws still managed to slash through his tunic and he could feel hot, sticky blood running down his side. The pain would come later, once the shock went away, but he was glad to have only gotten minor injuries as he stumbled backwards, clutching the cat to his chest and making sure his hood hadn’t fallen off. His ears were flattened against his hair again and his heart was racing.

“Jon!” Martin rushed to him, blue eyes wide as he took in the wound. Jon pushed him away, staring at the wolf in horror. The beast was as large as a horse, its fur so streaked with dirt and blood, mouth full of razor-sharp teeth. Still, even as his skin knit back together and his heart pounded in his chest he sensed something off about it. Not just its size, but something about its essence was wrong.

Martin had grabbed a broken branch and was holding it like a club, the dog was growling and looked ready to attack the wolf, but Jon held out a hand. “Don’t!”

“That thing nearly killed you!”

“It’s cursed, Martin, it’s not doing this because it wants to.” Placing the tortoiseshell on the ground he took a few cautious steps towards the wolf, one hand outstretched. It snarled at him, crouching down as though preparing to strike again, but Jon tried to reach out with his powers. He was a cat god, but he hoped he could at least calm the thing down from whatever blind rage it had succumbed to. As he drew nearer he saw something wrapped around the beast’s neck, a leather cord so dirty it was almost indistinguishable from its fur. The energy emanating from the cord was the cause of the strange feeling he’d sensed, could that be the source of the curse? “We need to get the cord off its neck.”

“How are we supposed to do that? I doubt we can get close enough.” Martin frowned, but at least he didn’t seem like he was going to attack the wolf.

“Do you have a knife of some sort?” Jon supposed that being the god of cats it was unusual for him to not have “claws” of some sort, but he didn’t like hurting living things. In the future he might start carrying something around, just in case he needed it.

“Oh, yeah! Hang on.” Martin dropped the branch and fumbled at his waist before tossing something to Jon, who barely managed to catch it. Fortunately the knife was still in its leather sheath, the wooden handle was worn but the blade gleamed as though it had been freshly sharpened. Upon seeing it the wolf snarled, baring its teeth and crouching down as though readying to pounce.

“That’s what I was worried about.” Jon sheathed the knife again and approached the beast slowly, trying not to startle it. Fortunately the wolf did not attack, but it didn’t relax either, its ice-blue eyes focused on him.

When he was in front of it he grasped the leather cord in one hand and had to resist the urge to cry out in agony. Jon wasn’t the target of this particular curse, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t feel the malice that had gone into it. A deer, sacred to the Goddess of the Wild, had been slain by accident and the hunter had been turned into a bloodthirsty monster in return. The wolf howled, out of pain or sadness he didn’t know, but he managed to pull out the knife and cut the cord. It fell to the ground, turning into a pile of ash, and Jon felt his knees buckle.

When his vision cleared Martin was kneeling next to him, and before him lay a woman. Her clothes were tattered, caked in blood and dirt, her blond hair coming out of its messy braid. The dog sniffed at her prone form, occasionally nudging her cheek with his nose or pawing at her as though it was concerned. Jon could see that she was breathing, but no doubt she was exhausted from whatever the curse had done to her.

“This is the beast?” Martin looked taken aback, that the monster who’d slaughtered and wounded animals was just a human. “She looks so... innocent.”

“Everyone looks innocent when they’re asleep. She’s a hunter, but she accidentally chose the wrong prey and angered a god.” Jon sighed, getting to his feet and once more checking his hood.

The cat wound its way between his legs, rubbing up against them and purring. “You did it master!”

“I can carry her back to town.” Jon blinked, not sure he’d understood Martin. “What? We can’t just leave her here, it’d be best to bring her to a healer so someone can take a look at her.”

“Right, of course.” He’d forgotten that humans were so fragile, although Jon could sense that some part of the curse had not left the woman. She had been changed by it, marked by the wild.

The trip back through the forest was quiet, neither of them felt much like talking as they picked their way through the trees. The sun had started to set and Jon had to rely on his night vision to guide them, all the while hoping that Martin wouldn’t ask how he could see so well in the dark, or notice the unusual shine to his eyes. Once they’d entered town a handful of cats approached him, all of them thanking him for getting rid of the beast.

“Wow,” Martin gaped at the welcome party. “Cats really like you, huh?”

“You could say that.” Jon replied, unable to hide his smirk.

It was fortunate that the healer recognized the woman and agreed to treat her free of charge because Jon had no money whatsoever. His followers were mainly cats, and it wasn’t like they were in the business of giving him spare change. The healer called the woman “Daisy,” although the name didn’t seem to fit the huge wolf she’d been mere hours ago. Then again, Jon wasn’t exactly the best name for a god of cats and it was still his name.

It was only when Martin stopped at a crossroads and pointed down one of the streets did Jon remember that their partnership had been temporary. “I live down that way, I’m sure if you ask someone they’ll be able to point you in my direction.”

“Right...” It was strange, he’d only known Martin for a short amount of time and yet he felt a pang of sadness in his chest. “I guess I’ll be seeing you around.”

“Goodnight, Jon.” Martin smiled and began to walk away, the dog bounding off down the street.

“Goodnight, Martin.”

When he returned to his temple and settled down on the pile of blankets he called a bed Jon thought about his day. While he’d originally set off to find the beast because his followers had asked it of him, he hadn’t actually done anything godlike. Sure, he’d figured out that the wolf was cursed and managed to break the cord, but it hadn’t really been that difficult. Apart from getting injured twice, that was. Jon thought of Martin’s kindness when the dog had knocked him over, of his flushed face when he was embarrassed, of his bravery when preparing to fight the beast. As his eyes drifted shut he considered how odd it was, that after being a god for so long it only took one day for him to suddenly feel so very human.

——

One day I will not get ideas for an event the day of said event. Credit to the Magnus Writer’s server for the plot bunny, and thanks to @ravendarkwood for the beta!

#jonsimsandcats2021 #jon sims and cats day #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #the magnus archives #tma #tma fanfic #my fic

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oh-no-my-hand-slipped · 4 years ago

Note

Your recent ask for me was so in-depth and lovely. I wish I had something like that for you! But I don't. (I will try and find one for next time!)

So instead tell me 3 of your favorite sickfic tropes and write a fic for both of us that includes all 3 :)

I have plenty of sickfic tropes tickle my fancy, but here are three that I enjoy:

1. Reversed Caretaking (A gets sick, gets taken care of by B, then B gets sick; we have that in common, if memory serves. 😉)

2. Herculean Rejection (A can’t possibly be sick, and even if they are, they simply don’t have the time to be ill - they have too much to do!)

3. More Than A Sick Body (A isn’t used to being taken care of, usually for very sad reasons, and is found to be overworked to the point of sickness and not willing to take care of themselves; now that they are forced to rest, B can now see how deeply broken A is and can begin showing them love and support).

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

Ghast let out a shuddering breath, bringing his thin cloak closer to himself. He was a master of hiding his true intentions, but his headache had made him a bit clumsier than usual.

“Is his lordship well?”

The wizard’s ward, Basil, stood at attention, ready to tend to whatever answer was given to his query. Ghast cleared his throat.

“I am only tired,” he replied, hoping to assuage any concern. “I was awake many hours in pensive study - my spell was nearly completed, and there was no point leaving it to rot overnight.”

Basil nodded. “T’would be a waste, my lord, you’re right.”

Ghast held back a yawn as he turned another page in his book. He had read the same passage twice already, but he couldn’t seem to focus his eyes onto the neatly inked words below him. A cold breeze blew by, and Ghast grasped at his cloak once again.

The wind must have brought a few mischievous passengers, because the next thing the wizard knew, his nostrils were trembling in the frigid air. Ghast brought out his handkerchief and buried his face into it.

“IT’CHIIIEW! Ih...hih...HITCH’CHNX!”

By the third and fourth sneeze, Ghast had pressed an already sopping cloth to his face. Basil slid a bit closer to his master to offer his own handkerchief.

“My lord...”

Ghast sniffled thickly. “Only allergies, Basil.”

Basil folded up his handkerchief again after Ghast waved it away, then allowed himself a small smile.

“Ah, yes,” he said, “those blasted winter allergies. Shall we return to the manor, then?”

“I subbose. I can hardly con - hih! - concentra...IT’CHIIEW!”

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

Ghast was sent straight to bed with plenty of honey and lemon. By the time the pair made it back to the manor, the wizard was in no position to argue. He could barely keep his eyes open, let alone resist Basil’s comforting touch.

However, as the day went on, it became clear that Basil was going to have to keep a close eye on his patient.

“Ah, my lord...you should be in bed! This library is full of dust and drafts - you’ll catch pneumonia at this rate!”

Ghast looked up from his desk, one hand on his nose and the other in the middle of writing a shaky couplet.

“I thought of the most wonderful rhyme,” he mumbled, “but it isn’t nearly as eloquent now that the quill is wet and the parchment is tainted.”

“What irony that the man with a full nose and a sick mind speaks these phrases with such ignorance.”

This happened several more times, Basil getting more and more frustrated each time. He could see his master’s decline. Stress, sleepless nights, and days spent collecting samples in the stinging winter air had already caught up to Ghast - now it was going to swallow him whole.

Every hour for the entire evening, Basil would check on Ghast only to find the bed empty and a fit of loud sneezes coming from the library. He would lead his master by the hand to his room, put him to bed, close the door, and the cycle would begin anew.

Finally, after eight consecutive scoldings, Basil was at his limit.

At ten thirty, the ward marched stiffly into Ghast’s office. His master was facing the window, watching an icy blizzard through frost covered window panes.

“I cannot help but feel,” Basil said in a low voice, “that you are trying my patience on purpose. Not only is this the umpteenth time you have left your warm bed to wander about in this dingy study, but now you are in front of the window, inhaling the very thing that made you ill in the first place.”

Ghast only coughed in response. Basil crossed his arms.

“I am not a nanny, nor your mother, but I feel at least a bit responsible for you, especially since you can’t be bothered to take care of yourself. For a scholar and a wizard, you have been making terrible decisions on your behalf, and frankly, I’m a bit ashamed of it at times. Have you any sense at all?”

Ghast leaned back, his shoulders shaking ever so slightly. Basil sighed and rolled his eyes, preparing another handkerchief.

“See, you’re already sniveling! What did I tell you about this office of yours?! At least light the fireplace, if you must insist...”

There was no answer. The only sound between them was the wind howling outside the manor and the harsh scratching of tree branches against solid brick. Basil checked himself, realizing he had spoken quite out of turn.

“My lord, I apologize. I meant no disrespect, really - I just worry. You look so ill and out of sorts, and I couldn’t bear the thought of you dropping dead from bronchitis. Please, my lord, at least consider your health! For my sake, if not your own.”

Ghast did not stir.

“My lord...?”

Basil side-stepped toward the window, hoping to catch his master’s gaze.

“Oh.”

Ghast’s face was drawn with pure misery. Pain streamed out of his eyes and stained his collar, and the wizard’s lip quivered in a desperate attempt to keep his figure from falling apart. His pale cheeks were flushed with emotion and cold, and his sniffling only barely kept them both at bay. Basil put his fingertips on Ghast’s heaving shoulder.

“More is weighing upon your frame than a fever, my lord,” the ward murmured. “If only I had known. What troubles you so? What brings such bitter tears to your eyes?”

Ghast gritted his teeth, trying to bite back his sobs.

“I r-really am pathetic, aren’d I?”

“Oh, your lordship,” Basil crooned. “The only thing that is pathetic is your illusion of bravery. You must allow yourself a little rest, especially when you aren’t feeling well. This sniffle of yours is really troubling you, isn’t it?”

Ghast nodded once, leaving his chin to rest on his chest. Basil put his hands on his master’s neck, feeling for fever. His fingers came back covered in tears.

“You simply must come to bed. I insist. I implore. You’re going to get a chill, standing by the window like that...”

“B-bud I mustn’d be lih...lazy...hih...”

Ghast brought a tight knuckle against his nose, struggling against his sensitive nostrils. He knew that any strain would worsen his headache. Besides, he didn’t want Basil to worry too much about him. He had already made the grave mistake of weeping in front of his ward. Ghast wanted to fight for his last shred of dignity, though it soon became clear it was a losing battle.

“Pih...perhabs a bit longer? To gather byself?”

“Of course, my lord.”

Basil wiped his hands with his handkerchief, then offered it to Ghast. The wizard, having little other choice, grabbed it and held it to his pounding nose.

“ITCH’CHNX! CHNX’UH! Huh...”

“You mustn’t stifle them like that...you’ll only hurt your head.”

Ghast grimaced, feeling his temples starting to ache. Suddenly, he felt a warm embrace around his shoulders and a hand around his own. Basil spoke just beside Ghast’s red-tipped ear.

“To steady you, my lord.”

As if on cue, Ghast jerked forward.

“IT’CHIIIIIEW! Hih...HIT’CHIIEW! Hngh...”

As Ghast sneezed again and again, Basil supported him with his unwavering weight, making sure he didn’t knock himself into the many pieces of furniture lining the room. His master finished with a groan and a pitiful shivering.

“Here...”

Basil lifted his master’s handkerchiefed hand and pressed it lightly against his master’s nostrils while he emptied his overflowing nose.

“I think I shall prepare a bit of steam once your fever subsides a little,” the ward said. “For now, let’s get you to bed. You’re absolutely frigid...”

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

Basil found that taking care of Ghast, once he had agreed to stay in bed, was still easier said than done. Not because his master was high maintenance - in fact, it was quite the opposite. Basil never knew how Ghast was feeling at any given moment. His master could be in the throes of a terrible fever, but answer any concerned queries with, “Better, better...”

Finally, though, Ghast hazarded requests, much to Basil’s relief.

“I...I d-don’d suppose I could trouble you for anuder blanket...?”

“Snrk...I have a handkerchief, please?”

Sometimes, the requests were a bit more subtle. To Basil, it seemed almost like a lost language. Ghast would stare at the empty cup in his hand as a sign he needed more tea, or fiddled with the cold washcloth on his forehead until his ward brought a new one.

“Whad would I ever do withoud you?” Ghast had said while he was nose-deep in yet another tissue.

Basil chuckled. “You would have worked yourself to death, my lord.”

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

After a week of tending and mending, Basil heard a snatch of humming coming from the office. He opened the heavy oaken door to find Lord Ghast tending to a blazing fireplace. His face was bright with both the flame and a deep satisfaction.

“I took your advice,” Ghast said, eyes still on the fire, “and decided to warm my office up a bit in the colder months. As always, Basil, you are completely and utterly right.”

“That’s wonderful, my lord.”

Ghast looked up at his ward, who was still standing in the doorway. Basil was tracing the room with exhausted eyes, the warm, orange glow of the fireplace getting lost in their dull gaze. A green scarf criss-crossed their neck like a noose.

“Why don’t you come and sit for a spell?” Ghast suggested. “You look a trifle pallid.”

“I must regretfully decline. I have quite a few duties to attend to.”

“I’m afraid this is not a request, Basil.”

Basil tightened his scarf, then did as he was told, sitting on a sofa near where Ghast was standing. His master soon joined him on a small ottoman.

“Have you been to market today?” Ghast asked gently.

“No, my lord.”

“To the chickens?”

“No, my lord.”

“Had you an appetite for walk?”

“No, my lord.”

Ghast reached out and tugged at Basil’s scarf, raising one eyebrow.

“Have you a lover who bestowed you with passionate marks?”

“O-of course not, my lord!”

“I was only teasing, Basil.”

The wizard, in his good humor, took an end of the scarf and let the ends brush on the tip of his ward’s nose. Basil recoiled, his nostrils quivering.

“H-hah! P-pardon, I’ve got to...sih...sdeh...s-sdee...”

Basil laid the length of his scarf across his face and turned away from his master.

“HSH’SHOO! Hih...HISH’SHOOF!”

The ward rubbed his nose with the scarf, which only prompted another itch in his sinuses.

“D-damn weh...wool...HSH’SHEH!”

Ghast slid from the ottoman to the sofa, putting his arm around Basil’s shoulders.

“Here...”

The wizard pulled out a handkerchief and held it against his ward’s nose. Basil sniffled, not even bothering to hold the cloth against his own nostrils.

“T-tank...SHEW!”

“You’re in for a treat, my dear, if you have in fact caught my cold.”

Basil blew his nose mightily.

“Don’t worry, I’ll have the maid wash your handkerchiefs. You sound like you’ll need them.”

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

They are 100% together, if that wasn’t clear. God, they are so in love.

Anyway, I’m sorry for being dead for so long story-wise. Had a mighty bad creative dry-up. But I shall prevail! I have plenty more asks, and plenty more ideas.

As always, you can count on the Hand Slipped Guarantee! You hate it, I can rewrite it. Thank you, @perfectpaperbluebirds , you are always a treat to write for!

#ohnos fics #snz #snzfic #snzblr #snzfucker #snz kink #snezblr #snez #snezario #snezfic #whump #whump writing #whumpblr #whump fic #whump stuff #whump blog #sickfic #sick whumpee

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nimblermortal · 3 years ago

Text

Watchin’ the Dune movie with Hyacinth and being as obnoxious about it as possible, given that I haven’t actually read the book since I was... twelve? Fourteen?

and moreover, when I watched the LotR movies I lost what I had previously imagined the books to be like, and I don’t want that to happen again. Not even that I care more or as much about Dune, I just don’t want that to happen to me personally again. So:

Bene Gesserit = Benny Gesserit, with a hard G

Atreides = A (as in flag) TREE-ih-DEEZ

Duncan Idaho is blond, has short hair, and is kinda plump.

Gurney Halleck is a bit of a twink

Fremen don’t frikking pirouette dear god they know better than to turn their back on an enemy

Arakkis is not barren of plant life. It has particularly adapted plant life. Where else do the moisture harvesters harvest moisture from.

Liet Kynes is not a particularly interesting individual, that is something the Son of Herbert made up. (I actually enjoy the clandestine epic Dr Kynes, and also the black lady Dr Kynes, but per my original reading - meh.)

Harkonnen = Har-KOH-nen

Feyd Rautha (feed ROW-tha) is pretty. Like, as pretty as Paul. At least as pretty as Paul.

On which note, Paul does not go around staring blankly and muttering like a sullen teenager.

MOST IMPORTANTLY. Bene Gesserit have complete control over their bodies. They’re not whinging over their emotional reaction to politics all the time. They have poise. Jessica in particular has poise. You have to set her up for this - give her scenes that show how collected she is, and then let that break just the tiniest bit while Paul is in with the Revered Mother, so that when she actually does break later, it’s shocking.

By the time they hit the desert in fleeing, Paul is in sort of instinctive Fremen mode, and trying to cope emotionally with how his mother is being more emotional about their situation than he thinks is appropriate, when his mother has always been the one in control making wise decisions. But now she is doing objectively stupid things, and he knows it, and he doesn’t know how he knows this, and it’s yet another thing to try to deal with.

Sardaukar = SAR-dau-KAR

Padisha Emperor = Pa-dee-SHA emperor

Calanhad or Celadon or whatever the planet is called is green and wet. It is very important that it is both of these things. It should have been shown in full bloom, not winter Scotland. Wet and green is a more important contrast than hot vs cold.

Thopters have bird wings, not dragonfly. (I actually prefer the dragonfly, it’s cool, but definitely waaaayyyyy worse for deserts. Also Hyacinth pointed out that it’s a non-rotary system so it could, with some clever engineering, have arhythmic wing patterns, which is way cooler.)

The way Fremen walk is not common knowledge.

Shields are not just blue vs red, with red indicating a hit. Shields specifically make it so that things moving fast cannot enter, no matter how much force they are moving with. You specifically adapt your fighting style to “pull” the blow at the last moment, so that it can move through shields. This is what makes Feyd Rautha’s style deadly to the civilized world - and incredibly weak to Fremen fighting.

EVERYONE NEEDS TO COVER THEIR FACES IN THE DESERT, DEAR GOD, WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU LOSE MOST OF THE WATER FROM???

Anyway, very much looking forward to the line “Tell me of the waters of your homeworld” and also to the advent of Creepy Child. I am always here for kids, and Creepy Child is gonna be great.

I also very much enjoyed the bagpipe Atreides illustration. Bagpipes were the sole interesting thing about the Fall of the House of Atreides battle. No, I tell a lie - the way the bombs fell all together like a particularly beautiful chemistry demonstration was pretty nice.

#Nimblermortal liveblogs #after the fact #not that we've actually finished #they're really using visions to fluff out the length of the movie for realz aren't they?

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billehrman · 3 years ago

Text

Conviction and Core Beliefs

The financial markets went from having the worst weeks of the year last week to having one of the best weeks this week. What changed? Nothing!

We went out of our way in last week’s blog to take the “Opposite View” as we knew that the pundits/experts on cable news and at many influential brokerage houses had overreacted to Fed Chairman Powell’s comments. We believed that the Fed, as well all monetary bodies, would not even consider beginning to take the punchbowl away until employment had returned to pre-pandemic levels; inflation sustained at well above 2% even after shortages had ended and supply lines had been restored, and year over year inflation comparisons no longer were distorted by unusually low numbers during the pandemic.

We learned several invaluable lessons during our nine-year tenure as CIO/Partner at George Soros’ Quantum Fund: stay true to your convictions based on your core beliefs, think globally, do your own independent research (don’t take others views at face value), take advantage of market weakness, be open-minded, and control risk.

When we look at the market, we analyze the supply of capital versus the demand for money. Here is what we see:

· We will remain with excess liquidity trends for at least another 18 months, favorable for risk assets as production tries to catch up with demand.

· We look at monetary policies both here and abroad. We see clear trends through at least 2022 as all economic bodies want their economies to run hot and believe that current high inflationary pressures are transitory. We agree.

· We see the need to relieve shortages, rebuild supply lines and modernize infrastructure here and abroad. This trend favors the economically sensitive areas of the market.

· We see scarcity of many industrial commodities for many years as demand increases above trend as we rebuild our asset base and go EV/Green while supply stays limited.

· We have entered a new technological revolution that has positive implications for all aspects of business plus much higher productivity levels than we have had over the last decade, which will reduce unit labor costs despite higher wages.

· We see inflation remaining constrained due to globalization, tech spending, and disruptors popping up everywhere.

· Finally, we see much higher levels of corporate profits, cash flow, and ROIC than the consensus, while the yield curve does not steepen as much as we earlier envisioned, which will lead to higher stock prices ahead.

We continue to make tremendous progress putting the coronavirus in the rearview mirror. More than 2.8 billion doses have been administered across 179 countries, with the latest daily rate at 42.6 million doses per day. In the U.S., 321 million doses have been given so far, allocating 816,831 per day. The U.S has almost fully opened, with Europe surprisingly close behind. We are also making progress in India and other parts of the world. We now believe that we will have a global synchronous expansion by the spring of 2022, supported by excess liquidity and easy monetary policies that can last for years at above-average rates of gain. We are also confident that we will have sufficient doses available next year if booster shots are required. All good news,

We left last week with the pundits worried that Powell and the Fed had altered its monetary policy view when, in fact, there was no appreciable change, as we knew and discussed last week. It was prudent for them to begin discussing tapering as we are closer to that date than months before, but remember, tapering does not mean tightening. We listened to many Fed governors last week, including Powell before Congress, and came away with the same opinion that we have had for weeks: the fed will talk tapering in the fall; begin tapering next winter, reducing bond purchases in increments of $40 billion taking them to the end of 2022; and begin to adjust the Fed Funds rate by the summer of 2023. Do you think that raising funds' rate 25 to 50 basis points is tightening as actual accurate rates will remain negative? We stay in the camp that the bulk of the current inflationary pressure is transitory and will subside as shortages ease and supply lines open. We expect sequential inflation data to improve as we move through the remainder of the year into 2022, which will support the Fed view and improve investor confidence.

Even though Biden struck an infrastructure bill with bipartisan Senators, investors remain skeptical whether it will pass if it is tied to the rest of Biden’s social infrastructure agenda. We are more confident as the public outcry if the Democrats don’t give us a much-needed traditional infrastructure bill. Instead, ram through a multi-trillion social schedule using reconciliation could doom them in next year’s election. And they know it! In addition, Biden made clear that something is better than nothing, so will he go back on his word? The agreed-upon bill was—$ 1.2 trillion infrastructure compromise, including $579 billion spent over eight years. The bill would be financed through a combination of closing tax loopholes, redirecting unspent emergency relief funds, targeted corporate user fees, and the macroeconomic impact of the infrastructure investment. There is no corporate tax increase whatsoever. Good news!

Economic data points confirm an improving domestic economy: initial unemployment claims fell 7,000 to 411,000; existing home sales hit a new record high in May, topping $350,000; new orders for durable goods increased 2.3%; shipments rose 0.4%, unfilled orders increased 0.8%, nondefense new orders for capital goods were up 2.7%; the flash U.S HIS composite index hit 68.1; U.S services 70.1; consumer sentiment 85.5; Manufacturing PMI 61.5; Flash manufacturing output 58.1; trades good deficit $88.1 billion, up 2.8%; and core PCE inflation was up 0.5% in May, up 3.4% from a year ago. Both the PCE price index and core PCE price index came in slightly lower than forecast. It is important to note that semi-conductor shortages are easing, which bodes well for higher auto production and lower used car prices.

We were surprised by the apparent strength in Europe’s economy as it gets its arms around the coronavirus. IHS Markit surveys show euro-area economic activity growing at the fastest pace in 15 years, with companies struggling to keep up with demand much like here. The equivalent UK index is improving too. For instance, the Euro manufacture’s index hit 63.1 in June, services 58.0 and composite 59.2 while the UK manufacturer’s index hit 64.2, services 61.7 and composite 61.7. All up! Economic activity has continued to improve in China as well. We find it puzzling that China is reducing its purchases of iron and other metals as industrial production, including steel output, is hitting record highs. We see a substantial short squeeze ahead as global demand for industrial commodities increases with economic activity.

Investment Conclusions

We have not altered our favorable view of the investment landscape as we are getting our arms around the coronavirus; global liquidity trends to exceed demand for funds favoring risk assets; monetary and fiscal policies to remain accommodative; shortages and supply line issues will ease; inflationary pressures will diminish over time; yield curve will steepen slowly but will not be as steep as earlier feared; and corporate profit, cash flow, dividends, buybacks, and ROIC will be higher than currently forecast.

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whoareurl · 5 years ago

Note

It’s the Bucky anon, thanks so much for responding! As for a prompt, what about a sick, sneezy, post winter soldier Bucky attempting to hide the fact that he’s sick from Steve while still recovering from an injury because Steve is already so worried about him?

so, this kinda got away from me and is more general whump than snzfic BUT i hope you like it anyway kind anon!!

The mission had been rough on everyone and was definitely in the top five for Most Injuries Sustained at One Time (MISOT). Natasha was nursing a broken ankle, Clint sleeping his way through a pretty bad concussion, and Steve had taken one hell of a beating. Given how quickly Steve healed these days, Bucky was probably unnecessarily concerned. Steve certainly seemed to think so.

“For fucks sake, Buck!” He finally snapped after a long two days of the two of them stubbornly trying to take care of each other without a regard for their own aches and pains. “I’m fine! And in case you’ve forgotten, I’m not the one with broken bones!”

Oh, yeah. And Bucky had a broken wrist and three cracked ribs.

Bucky could practically feel Stark and Rhodey tense from where they were sitting at the breakfast bar and he almost wanted to roll his eyes. Sure, he’s been jumpy and unpredictable throughout his recovery. But he’s also known Steve since they were children and the little punk is precisely as loud and stubborn as he’s ever been. It would take a lot more than a snappy Steve to trigger anything serious for Bucky.

“I’ve had worse,” Bucky said with an almost fond roll of his eyes. The movement sparks a jolt of pain in his head but he ignores it without much trouble. He’d been thoroughly trained in that regard.

“So have I,” Steve bit back, looking for all the world like the skinny little shit who got his ass handed to him on the regular in the 1930s.

Bucky swallowed a laugh. “Yeah, I remember when Mrs Johnson’s boys gave you a kicking behind Delmar’s.”

Despite his show of righteous indignation, Steve’s cheeks dusted pink at the memory. “It wasn’t that bad,” he grumbled.

“They broke two of your ribs. You could’ve died.”

“I had ‘em o-”

“On the ropes, I know,” Bucky finished for him, chuckling quietly. The laughter left an uncomfortable, aching feeling in his chest. He figured it was from his ribs.

And that was how Bucky ended up with 240lbs of pouting supersoldier sprawled across him on the couch, apparently indicating that he was done with this conversation and if Bucky was going to be difficult then he could damn well be a half-decent pillow as well. Behind him, Bucky felt the tension between their two guests dissolve.

“Just worried about you,” Steve admitted quietly from where his head was pillowed on Bucky’s thigh. Bucky dropped his metal hand into Steve’s hair without really deciding to do so.

“I know.”

Over the coming days, the tight pain in Bucky’s chest revealed itself not to have been caused by his injuries. Rather, if the fierce cough and sweltering fever were anything to go by, it was a sign of what promised to be a thoroughly miserable cold. It certainly didn’t help that every cough and sneeze set back the healing on his ribs. No, that was just an unwelcome bonus.

Steve, typically, was as fussy and impossible as he had always been and, honestly, Bucky found it kind of comforting. Sure, Steve’s incessant questions about how he was feeling weren’t exactly working wonders for his headache but Bucky couldn’t deny the bubble of warmth in his chest he felt knowing how much Steve loved him.

Idiot.

Steve, despite his concern for Bucky, had become desperately antsy after just one day of lounging on the couch while he healed and, at his boyfriend’s request, nay, insistence, had resumed his regular workout routine because “your pent up energy is a pain in my ass, Stevie.”

“Alright, Barnes?” Clint asked, dropping down onto the couch beside him.

Bucky couldn’t stop himself from wincing at the way the movement jostled his aching ribs. And, because he’s unlucky and apparently God hates him, his tiny gasp of pain sent him into a punishing coughing fit.

“Christ,” he rasped when it was finally over, metal hand shifting from his mouth to his chest as the pain started to settle down.

“Well, you certainly sound like shit,” Clint said cheerily. Bucky shot him a glare. “You told Steve yet?”

Bucky glared harder. “I swear, Barton, if you-”

Clint raised his hands in surrender. “Hey, man, relax. I have zero desire to get involved in your domestic disputes. I just wanna make sure I don’t miss the show.”

Bucky slapped him with a nearby cushion and turned to stifle a sneeze into his shoulder. Well, a sneeze or six. Clint snagged the box of quickly depleting tissues off the table and tossed them into Bucky’s lap with an air of practiced nonchalance. Despite literal years of stealth training, Bucky couldn’t hold in the last sneeze and it burst out with a rough hznkchh! Well, this was definitely shaping up to be one of his least favourite colds of all time.

“Gesundheit,” Clint mumbled around a mouthful of pringles.

“Thangks,” Bucky muttered, letting out a stuffy breath through his mouth. God, his head was hammering. He gave his nose a quick, harsh blow and stood. “Gonna take a shower.”

“Good call. You stink.”

“Fuck you, Barton.”

The shower felt sinfully good and the hot water pounding against his back eased the aching, bone-deep pain in his left shoulder. His new vibranium arm was much lighter and far more comfortable than the one Hydra had given him but carrying the weight of a metal limb for on and off seventy years had certainly done a number on his nerves. The pain was far from constant but it tended to come back with a vengeance when he was sick. Like now.

There was also the small issue of the steam loosening the congestion in his sinuses to the point where he could barely finish rubbing shampoo into his hair before he was sneezing forcefully towards the ground, metal arm braced against the wall.

“Hrrushch! ih-heh’hrkrushhh!”

The ache which had been steadily building behind his eyeballs all day did, mercifully, start to fade as he…now what was the technical term? Sneezed out his fucking brain.

“Jesus,” he grumbled after what felt like the fiftieth sneeze. If this was the way things were going to be, he certainly wasn’t going to bother with conditioner.

(Bucky liked to pretend, especially around Steve, that he only cared this much about his hair and personal care because it had been denied to him for so long. It was a game which proved to be unfailingly hilarious because Steve could become almost apoplectic with disbelief at the “bold-faced lies, James Buchanan! What would your ma think, God rest her soul?”

Yes, it was definitely Bucky’s favourite game.)

When he stepped out of the shower, Bucky physically recoiled from the blast of cold air that washed over his whole body. Thankfully, it wasn’t long before he was wrapped in two giant fluffy towels, tousled hair caught up untidily in one of Nat’s hair claws. It wasn’t perfect or particularly flattering but at least he didn’t run the risk of dislodging it with another embarrassingly forceful sneezing fit.

Without warning, Bucky felt an ache in his chest. He wanted his Ma, so badly it hurt. It had been a long time since he’d thought about her and for that he felt guilty. She’d probably received a telegram when he fell from that stupid train, apologising for the fact that she’d never be able to bury her son’s body. Bucky wondered if she’d been able to move on without his body to serve as closure or if maybe she’d always held out hope that he’d come back to her.

Bucky stared fiercely at the rug in front of the TV, trying not to think about how his Ma felt when they told her Steve was dead too.

My boys, she used to say, all grown up.

In a way, she and Sarah Rogers had been so alike. He and Steve had been lucky enough to grow up with two mothers, two families, two homes. Bucky had no doubt that she’d have mourned Steve too.

For a moment, a brief, horrible moment, he hated Steve for his choice, for not thinking about all the people he was leaving behind. And maybe there had been no other choice, maybe it was really the only way to save all those people, but Bucky had heard the recordings and nobody says ‘this is my choice’ if there really is no other way. But Bucky thought he understood how Steve felt - like Hydra was too big to take on alone, like this might bring them down for good, like he had nobody left to go home to - and he didn’t have Bucky to tell him not to be so goddamn stupid.

Bucky didn’t realise he was sobbing but he was vaguely aware, at least enough to know that it wasn’t pretty. He’d always been an ugly crier. Of the two of them, Steve had always suffered more gracefully, maybe because he’d had more practice. His chest ached with pain and congestion and awful, burning heartache. More than anything else in the world, Bucky wanted to go home. Maybe if he closed his eyes, he could imagine he was in the Rogers’s tiny apartment in Brooklyn Heights with Steve sleeping fitfully against his side as Sarah Rogers arrived home from a late shift at the hospital. He’d pretend to be asleep while Sarah sighed and tucked the blankets tightly around them and gave them each a kiss on the forehead.

Bucky wrapped his arms across his middle, doubling over with a fit of rough coughs. He gave a pained whimper and made no attempt to sit up. His shoulder ached, his back ached, his heart ached and Bucky just wanted to go home.

“Hey, shhh, I’ve gotcha,” said a voice.

“Ma,” Bucky whispered, only realising his mistake when he heard the most pitiful pained sound he’d ever heard.

“Oh god, Buck,” Steve choked, pulling Bucky roughly into his arms. “I- I’m sorry.”

Bucky buried his face in Steve’s neck, wincing at the way his chest twinged with pain again. Later, he couldn’t say why he said it - maybe it was the way Steve’s fingers in his hair made him feel like soft putty - but the words came spilling out of his mouth like a man under a spell.

“M’real sick, Stevie. Don’t want you to get sick.”

Steve’s fingers stilled briefly. “I won’t get sick, Buck,” he said softly but Bucky was too busy trying weakly to push him away.

“No,” Bucky muttered dumbly.

“Hey,” Steve whispered, pulling him close. His hold was so strong and steady that Bucky couldn’t help but melt into him. “S’okay Buck. I’m gonna take care of you. You got nothin’ to worry about.”

When Steve pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Bucky’s head, it felt like the world had switched off. All he could feel was Steve’s body pressed tight against his own, the soft, gentle movements of Steve’s fingernails scraping along the base of his scalp.

“Home,” he mumbled and all he could hope was that Steve understood. This was home. With Steve.

Like always.

#acefic #acefic stucky #sorry about the weird unreadable post i fixed it

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fundeadasylum · 5 years ago

Text

This Photo of Us Part 1: Lips Like Strawberry Wine

To literally no one’s surprise it’s more Micoverse. Let’s just say I listened to Blake Robin’s Unhealthy Obsession one too many times.

Warnings: none for this chapter

Part 2 / Part 3

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

On a wet, rainy autumn afternoon, Jacob Pierly disappeared.

----

Months before, just as spring was nudging aside the last, clingy vestiges of winter and stubbornly sprouting flowers against the still chilly mornings, Jacob Pierly met a girl. He’d ducked a coffee shop, eager to warm fingers cold from poor circulation and a breeze that had been biting since the early afternoon. Instead he got a shirt soaked with piping hot coco and a frantic, scrambling apology from the young woman who’d spilled her drink on him.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! I wasn’t paying attention--it was a total accident--I’ll pay for the cleaning! I’ll--I’ll buy you a new shirt! I’m so, so sorry!”

“I, uh, n-no, it’s f-fine, it’s just--it’ll come right out. It’s not a big deal,” Jake stepped back, awkwardly raising his hands to fend off the woman’s frantic cascade of paper napkins, “It was my fault, I was distracted. Let--let me buy you another one.”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t--”

“Please?”

The young woman bit her lip, dirty blonde hair in disarray, twenty or so napkins clutched in her grasp, “I...okay.” She smiled, shy and relenting, straightening up and trying to compose herself.

Jake’s heart skipped a beat for reasons entirely unrelated to preexisting medical conditions.

----

Her name was Rosanna Pearl and she was studying for a medical degree at a nearby college.

“With a minor in chemistry,” She added as they sat at a table in the cafe, each anxiously clutching at their drinks and avoiding direct eye contact, “And you can call me Rosie. Everyone else does.”

“Jake Pierly,” He said, the corner of his mouth twitching in an awkward smile, “Stay at home editor.”

Rosie giggled, “Pierly. Sounds like Pearl. Our last names kind of match. That’s a little funny. Maybe it’s fate we ran into each other.”

“Ah, maybe,” Jake could feel his ears burning as he chuckled, “But next time fate intervenes, I hope it involves less spilled hot chocolate.”

Rosie laughed, a real, resonating laugh that made her cheeks turn pink. It was such a sweet laugh that Jake found himself laughing too.

“What do you edit, if you don’t mind me asking?” Rosie asked when they had settled down.

Jake swallowed a mouthful of decaf, shrugged one shoulder and looked out the window so he didn’t have to face his problems, “Nothing special. Usually whatever anyone throws my way. Creative writing, mostly. Sometimes academic papers but there’s a lot of jargon I don’t get in those so I have to decline a lot of them. I can’t tell you how many awful books get handed off to me by these wanna-be novelists that think they’re going to be the next Stephen King or something.” He rolled his eyes, caught Rosie’s glance, and flushed, “D-don’t tell them I said that, I mean, I do the work. P-pays the bills, you know. Heh.”

“Oh no, don’t apologize, I’m pretty sure I know the type,” Rosie raised her eyebrows, “I used to work at a salon and you would not believe the bitches--the kinds of people who came through there! Awful people. Just. Terrible.”

Jake hid a smile behind the lid of his coffee cup, “Sounds like you’ve got some horror stories.”

Rosie smirked, “I’ll regale you with them sometime.” She glanced at her phone sitting on the table next to her, “But right now I really have to head out. Tell you what, coffee’s on me next time and I’ll spill all the dirty client secrets. Deal?”

Jake hummed, “Deal. What’s your number?”

----

“DAD! DAD! JAKE HAS A DATE! JAKE HAS A DATE!”

Dan looked up from the stove so fast he banged his head on the cabinet. Head smarting and eyes watering, he turned to face the teenager spilling head over heels into the kitchen, “Ow! What!? Milo, stop shouting! What did you say?”

“He didn’t say anything!” Jake shouted, spilling into the kitchen and nearly wiping out on the tile as his socks slid underneath him.

“JAKE’S GOING ON A DATE!”

Dan stared at Milo and then looked at Jake who appeared as though he’d like nothing better than to vanish through the floor, never to show himself again. His face was bright red and he was twisting his shirt into knots between his fingers, gaze darting across the room, shoulders hunched to his ears as he curled in on himself. In contrast, Milo was bouncing up and down, a wide grin on his face, snickering madly at having shared a piece of juicy gossip.

“Jake?” And even though Dan said it carefully he could still hear the eggshells popping under his feet.

“Ih-it’s not a date!” Jake said to the floor, “It’s just a coffee…meetup. Thing. To talk about work. Strictly--strictly platonic. M-maybe even business related. We only just met today and barely know each other but sh-she seems nice and stuff and we were joking around and so we’re just--just going to meet for coffee next week. It’s not a date! It’s nothing!”

Dan winked at him, “Of course, Jake. Not a date. Strictly professional. Got it.”

“You both are the worst.” Jake groaned and Milo cackled with glee.

-----

Dan and Milo left him alone about it for the time preceding the coffee meetup (though Jake suspected Milo only did so with much bribing and pleading from Dan). Jake was grateful for that much because he honestly couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten out of the house with friends apart from Dan and...well, these days it was just Dan. So this would be a nice change of pace from the usual fanfare.

Still, that didn’t stop him from fretting the morning of and changing his shirt three times. He couldn’t help it, he wanted to be presentable. That’s just who he was. He only settled down when Milo caught him trying to match ties and asked him what “his date’s favorite color was”. Dan had to stop Jake from chasing the teenager around the house with a dress shoe and threatening to smack the smile right off his face.

“When do you think you’ll be home?” Dan asked as he ushered Milo away to find something more productive to do with his time.

“Um, no later than 5?” Jake hazard, pulling on a jacket, “I’ve got a video call with a client I don’t want to look like roadkill for tomorrow, so I’ll be home in time for dinner and a decent night’s sleep.”

“Call me if you need anything.”

“Yes, dear,” Jake chided gently, “I’ll keep my phone on and I promise not to sleep with any strangers.”

“Jake…”

“Whoa! Dad’s cheating on dad!”

“Milo, go to your room!”

“This house is a nightmare!”

Jake could only laugh as he stepped outside and pulled the door shut.

The drive to the cafe was short but enough for Jake to work himself back up into a nervous frenzy all over again. He nearly shut his leg in the car door and tripped over his own feet as he stepped into the cafe.

A glance around and he met Rosie’s pretty brown eyes at a seat near the back, private and away from the crowd, sheltered mostly by a bakery display. She smiled and waved and he made his way over, slinging his jacket over the back of the chair as he sat down.

“Hi, um, hello Rosie, sorry. I hope you haven’t been waiting long. You haven’t, have you? It’s just I had to wrangle Milo and--”

“No, no, you’re fine, I’ve only been here a couple of minutes,” She assured him with a smile, “Who’s Milo? Your cat?”

Jake choked on his own breath of air and struggled not to laugh, “Oh my g--no, if he heard you call him that--good lord. No, no, Milo’s my son. Adopted son. My roommate Dan and I are looking after him since his dad, our friend, um…” He swallowed, the lies tasting foul in his mouth.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to explain. I’m sorry I asked.” Rosie said quietly. She shifted in her seat, glancing away from him, “Wow, what a way to start the day. Good job, Rosie.”

“Ah, it’s not...a big deal. It’s been ten years.” Jake pushed his finger across the linoleum tabletop in an absent manner, “Anyway, weren’t you going to--what was it?--regale me with epic tales of your worst clients?”

Rosie smirked, “I don’t think I said it quite like that. But why don’t I get us our drinks and tell you about this lady who wanted every shade of pink in her hair.”

----

It carried on, as these things tended to.

Every few weeks, Jake and Rosie would meet up at a cafe or a restaurant, and share drinks, a meal, and stories of their lives. Jake told her about college, about the red head father of his adopted son, something he hadn’t talked about to anyone for ages. In response, Rosie admitted her crippling fear of academic failure and disappointing the legacy of her dead parents. They got along incredibly well for a pair of mostly introverts, enthusiastically discussing music almost every time they met up. It made Jake light up in a way that even Dan couldn’t remember seeing before.

So of course, it had to end and end badly. Because life just couldn’t be fair to Jacob Pierly.

Dan came home from his shift one evening to find Jake slumped bonelessly on the couch in the sitting room, his expression tired and forlorn, his shirt unbuttoned and rumpled, and an empty package of Oreos open beside him. The television was stuck on the retro channel, playing old reruns of shows from the 70’s and 80’s, audio muffled by age and then cleaned up by modern tech.

“Jake…?” Dan asked tentatively, setting his coat down on the back of the couch, “Hey, buddy, you okay? Is Milo sick again?”

“Huh?” Jake blinked, coming back to himself with a small jolt and looking around as if unsure of where he was, “Oh, no, he’s over at Cody’s right now. He’s fine.”

“But...you’re not.” Dan said, easing onto the couch as if afraid he would startle his friend away, “Wanna talk about it?”

“Mm...I dunno…” Jake sighed, letting his head roll back onto the couch cushions, “Not really, but…” He sighed again, “I screwed up, Dan.”

“How’s that?”

“I...I asked Rosie out.”

Dan brightened but then immediately sobered, “Ah, that was, um, real brave of you.”

“Tch,” Jake snorted and his lip curled and for a second, Dan saw a flash of forgotten bitterness and old anger bubble to the surface, “Yeah, sure. Would have been great except she...she said no.” He deflated all over again, staring at his fingers curled loosely in his lap, looking more drawn and tired than ever, “Said I must’ve gotten the wrong impression, that she never wanted to be more than just friends. Said...we should probably...not see each other for a while.”

“Aw, Jake,” Dan murmured, “Jake, buddy, I’m sorry.”

Jake shrugged and sniffed as if he could dismiss the dreary atmosphere hanging in a cloud over his head, “‘S whatever.”

“Nooooo, no it’s noooottt,” Dan cooed, scooting closer to his friend on the couch, “Come here, Jake, let Dan hug all your sorrow away. Hug Machine Dan is here for you.”

“No, no, no Hug Machine Dan!” Jake backed up, but Dan pinned him against the arm rest and crushed him into a hug, “DAN! DAN LEGGO!”

“Are you done being sad?”

“YES!”

“Lies. I’m gonna keep hugging you!”

“I’m going to tell Milo to eat your cookie stash.”

----

Jake’s funk lasted for weeks.

But, eventually, as summer tumbled awkwardly into autumn, apologized, and politely stepped out of the way, he got over it. Jake tended to hang onto things and hang onto them hard and it took work for him to let them go. But he was trying and Dan could see he was trying and told him he was proud and Jake shoved him and they laughed and tried to pretend they didn’t miss the echo of a third laugh that should have been there but wasn’t.

Things were getting better. Things were looking up.

And then, on a wet, rainy autumn afternoon, Jacob Pierly disappeared.

#should i post this on my gore blog? yes. will i? no.#why? the formatting's all bugged up and i can't fix it and i'm lazy deal with it #micoverse #jake pierly

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nautiscarader · 5 years ago

Text

Wendip Week day 4 - I always kinda knew

(Ao3), T, some implications at the end

- I always kinda knew. - What?! Dipper looked at his sister with a mixture of shock and anger, which, as expected, did nothing to the young woman sitting across the table, who was still busy putting copious amount of jelly on her birthday toast. - Buh...Buh... Why haven't you told me sooner? - Dipper asked in frustration, still unsure ih he has properly woken up. - Eh, it would make things funnier to watch.

She took a bite of her breakfast.

- I can jusht shee the coghs in youhr bhrain shlowly turning... And as Dipper's head fell down and his face met the empty plate, the worst possible feeling has sunken into his soul: Mabel was right. - So... when?

He asked desperately and drank cup of coffee, its bitterness mixing with both the overwhelming joy he was feeling, as well as the foreboding and ominous knowledge that in a moment he's gonna receive a full tell-off and that Mabel was gonna enjoy every second of it.

- Actually - Mabel interjected, taking her phone from the pocket of her sweater. - I think I have a date of this momentous occasion! She quickly browsed through the list of her messages, and a solid minute later, she proudly presented the message to her, from an unlikely source: Tambry.

hey, mabel, your brother got hot over winter wtf?

should have seen wendy when she saw him lol

Dipper groaned, but promptly sat upright when spotted the date of the message.

- July fifteenth?! - he gasped - That's... that's two months ago! Are you telling me I could have been dating Wendy whole two months? - That's right, brother! Mabel spoke in a sing-song voice, jumpd to the living room and pulled a string underneath the ceiling Dipper thought was a leftover garland from their party.

- And this is why you're gonna get subjected to... "All the moments of this Summer where you could have realised that Wendy was in love in you but you did nothing! She continued to read the letters pasted to the red curtain that fell behind her. Some of them were written with a glittery pen.

- I couldn't fit all the letters, it was too much of a hassle do it for someone like you, anyway. A faint giggling reached Dipper's ear from his left. Wendy snickered, opening her mouth for the first time since Mabel's revelation.

- What? - she asked when Dipper looked at her with accusatory look in his eyes - It's pretty cool she did something like that. - What, to humiliate me? - Oh come on, Dipper - Wendy cupped his face and gave him a kiss. The third kiss of his life so far.

No matter how bummed he was feeling knowing he could have spent this summer with Wendy as his girlfriend, the feeling of her lips on his filled him with warmth that electrified him, sending sparks to every corner of his seventeen-years old body.

- Come on, dude, it's gonna be like watching a bad movie. - Yeah, I suppose so. Dipper smiled, and the walked to the living room, where Mabel has already plugged her phone to the archaic TV. He sat as comfortably as he could, and shyly sat next to Wendy. After a while she sighed, and grabbed his arm to coil it around her neck.

The screen flickered, as the modern signal had to cram itself through several adapters, but the room was soon filled with sound and colours, as Mabel's video showed a familiar scene from a few weeks ago.

- This is gonna be amazing...! - Mabel's face filled the screen, as she turned the phone around - Dipper! Come to us! We've got ice cream! Dipper watched as his five-weeks younger self walks to the table occupied by Wendy, Mabel, and her two friends.

- What flavour? - Strawberry - Candy replied quickly - Oh gosh! I just remembered we had an important appointment! - Mabel suddenly spoke in a would-be dramatic voice, enunciating each word - What a shame we have to leave you guys, with the ice cream that was already paid for! For a moment, the screen became a blur as Mabel, Candy and Grenda rushed away to watch the two from a hidden place around the corner. A moment later, the camera zoomed, filling the screen with Dipper and Wendy sitting silently at the table.

- So... - Dipper said - Watched anything interesting lately? - Er, no, I don't think so - Wendy replied, trying to hide her blush - But you know, we... could watch something, maybe? - I thought we went through all the old VHS of your dad? - Yeah... - she fixed her hair nervously - I was thinking more like a cinema, you know. Like, a proper movie. - Oh, yeah, sure. - he replied quickly - I bet others would like to go too. We can take Soos and see the new Manbat movie! - And there we go! Mabel's voice rang in Dipper's ears, as she suddenly stopped the video.

- Not only you failed to notice the humongous blush on Wendy's face as she was left with you....

Mabel used a laser pointer to circle Wendy's face.

- But you also proposed to bring other people on a movie date! That's a purple card, Dipper. - There are no purple cards in soccer, Mabel. - Well, there should be for people like you! She blew a raspberry at him, which again prompted a laughter from Wendy.

- Come on, Mabel, I was as clueless there as he was. - Maybe, but feast your eyes on this! She tapped her phone and the video changed to another familiar image. Dipper instantly recognised the beige walls, covered in red writing, obscured by the shadows. Until this day they weren't sure if it was the aliens, or first natives of this land, who have build this temple, but they surely won't be coming back there soon.

- Come on, quickly! - Mabel's voice rang from the TV - It's gonna collapse! The silhouettes of Soos and Melody filled the screen, and they had to wait a while until they could see themselves. Wendy was walking up the collapsing corridor, helping limping Dipper to move at all. At some point she cursed, and much to Dipper's surprise, she simply took him into his arms and ran way faster than either of them could expect.

- Come on, Mabel! She nagged her, and for a moment the image became blurry, the audio glitched, and the next image that was clear was from the outside, showing the collapsed cave and the dust setting in. But Mabel was quick to move her phone to Dipper, still aching in Wendy's arms.

- It's gonna be alright, Dip, it's twisted, not broken... - Wendy cooed over Dipper, patting gently his head. - Wendy... you... you saved my life. - Come on, man, you'd do the same for us - Wendy shrugged, never taking eyes from him, a beaming smile dawning on her face. - You... you were amazing back there... Though Mabel was shaking, the camera remained perfectly still, showing Dipper's face inches from Wendy's. Tired from the adventure, Dipper closed his eyes, and Wendy followed, shortening the distance even more. Her hand slid to his cheeks, and their noses almost touched, when a sudden rubble made them come back to reality, foiling their moment of intimacy.

- There! - Mabel interrupted again - You guys were this close to a smooch! - Oh... - Dipper's eyes opened wide. - You... er, you wanted to... me... there? Wendy blushed and shied away.

- Well, you know, the occasion seemed kinda, you know... - One and a half inch! - Mabel suddenly exclaimed. Mabel took a measuring tape, put it on the screen and then shoved in front of their faces.

- Can you imagine how frustrated we were? - Don't exaggerate Mabel... - I'm not! She resumed the video and quickly turned to Soos and Melody, both staring at the scene with mouths wide open in anticipation. The next moment, when Wendy and Dipper moved apart, their faces became filled with disappointment, Melody shook her fist behind their backs and then used her hands to mimic the two kissing, cursing silently under her breath.

- And for the cup of grace, I present to you... - It's not pronounced that way - Dipper grumbled. - Shush, brother. As I was saying, the final proof is... Dipper didn't even have to watch it to know what adventure was going to be next. The ominous noise from the speakers reminded him of the fear of the tornado that rushed through the southern outskirts of their city, uprooting trees from the forest. He knew Mabel was recording the whole operation, as Ford was trying to capture the tornado in a box to study it further. Dipper opened his eyes, knowing what he'll see. The three of them were holding Mabel's hands, as she was the only one with a line, secured to the less secure ladder on top of a shack outside of town. The camera moved from side to side, while the two flew in the wind like flags, torn by the violent element around them.

- Wendy! - Dipper spoke - I don't know if I'm gonna come out of this alive! - What? - Wendy shouted - Can't hear you! - I just wanted to say... - he looked at the camera mounted to his sister's sweater - ...that I love you, Wendy. I have never stopped. - Dipper, I can't hear you, but Dipper, I wish I spoke to you sooner! - the lumberjane shouted over the wind - What? - I think I got a major crush on you this summer! Like, maybe more than a major one... - ...and you're smart, and funny, and brave... - Dipper continued. - ...dude, you're such a funny guy to have around... - ...and I think we could have two kids, I suppose, and a house with a garden, of course, a dog, maybe... - ...and it's gonna be such a bummer when you'll leave... - OH COME ON! Mabel from the TV screamed, and letting a deafening cry, she pulled both her Dipper and Wendy down the ladder, one step at a time, while the camera showed the eye of the tornado sucking the air above them. When the force of gravity took over, though, the three tumbled on the roof of the house, and Mabel was positively screaming at them.

- I'm so gonna make an exaggerated clip compilation of you guys, you are the worst. But I'm also glad you are alive.

She pulled them into a hug, making sure to press Wendy and Dipper's cheeks together.

- It's so sad! - Mabel sniffed - It's like a Greek tragedy, he can't her her, she can't hear him... - Why did you even film that part? - Cos you know, if someone found the phone, they'd know you were in love, and, I don't know, they'd make a shared grave or something? - That's... uh, sweet, I guess - Wendy raised her brow - And kinda pessimistic. Mabel blew her nose, and unapologetically pulled the cable from the TV screen.

- Well, that concludes my presentation. Conclusion? You are both dum-dums, and as a result, perfect for each other. I mean, Wendy, you are freaking cool, but... put you next to him, and this year you just...

Mabel dragged her finger in a circular motion next to her head. - Still, I'm glad you have finally found each other. Again. - she rolled her eyes. - Well, thanks Mabel - Wendy smiled - Just don't film us anymore, okay? - I won't I won't. But I am gonna upload this on-line. - Mabel! - Dipper jumped from the sofa, but was promptly stopped by Wendy. Her arms not only got hold of him, but turned him around, so his lips could meet hers in a fourth, fifth, and sixth kiss they have exchanged so far, all tasting like yesterday's cherry birthday cake, and a little bit like maple syrup Wendy had for breakfast. - Let her go, she probably wants to spend time with Paz. - Wendy spoke, when she had to take a breath. - Okay, just for you. - Dipper smiled. - It's just, Wendy... I'm sorry for not telling you sooner... - Hey, dude, I'm guilty as well. I guess I now know how you felt when you were twelve. The two looked at each other and burst into laughter.

- Okay, from now on, we just tell things straight to ourselves, deal? - Deal, dude.

And before Dipper could react, she threw herself onto him, lay her head on his shoulder, and whispered her idea into his ear, as directly as she could, so there could be no misunderstandings whatsoever. For a moment, it left Dipper frozen, until she straightened her back and looked into his widened eyes.

- Now? Shouldn't we keep... you know, kissing? - We're gonna kiss a lot during it. - Wendy smirked and wiggled her brow. - T-True, I guess...

Dipper spoke in a tiny voice, and let Wendy lead him into seventh, eight and ninth kiss, knowing fully well they might go into triple digits by the time he'll leave Gravity falls tomorrow morning.

#wendip #wendipweek #wendip week #wendy x dipper #dipperxwendy #gravity falls #dipper pines #wendy corduroy #I always kinda knew #nautiscaraderfics

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nebulous-frog · 6 years ago

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The Path to Happiness Ch. 1/7

Summary: Phil, Prince of Stratalary, has an arranged marriage with Daniel, Prince of Iridacia. He doesn't think he'll have any feelings for the prince, that is, until he meets him.

Word Count: 30,000 overall

Genre: Fantasy AU, Arranged Marriage, Slow Burn, Fluff

Warnings: Some Swearing, Food Mentions

Author’s Note: This is my fic for the winter 2018 @phandomreversebang! Massive thank-you to my beta @yourfriendlyblogstalker for being fantastic and so supportive even with my procrastination and several postponements! Thank you also to @pasteldnp for listening to me worldbuild for like two months and then drawing a map of my creation for me, which can be found here The wonderful art for this fic can be found here -- UPDATE -- for my birthday, Juls made an amazing moodboard for this, go check it out!!

Rough pronunciation guide: Stratalary: STRAT-uh-larry Iridacia: ear-ih-DAY-shuh

Chapter 2 Masterlist

Link to AO3 Fics Masterlist

Phil had been expecting it all his life. In the last week alone, he’d been anticipating the order every time a servant entered his presence. Important meetings between kingdoms were happening, something to put an end to the tension and the conflict so everyone could finally exist in peace, and Phil doubted he’d escape the politics.

Expecting and anticipating were not the same thing as being prepared. Phil learned that quickly when the order came.

“Phil,” his brother said solemnly. He looked tired and worn down; Phil supposed that happened when you were king. “I’ve arranged for you to marry the prince of Iridacia.”

Here it goes, I guess, Phil thought with a sigh. He bowed. “As you will it,” he said stiffly to the floor. He straightened, but his eyes remained trained on the floor.

You had no right to imagine anything else. This is your duty, he tried to tell himself.

“Hey,” Martyn said softly. He took a step closer to Phil and laid a hand on his shoulder.

Phil looked up, keeping his expression as neutral as possible.

Martyn smiled a small smile. “This is a good thing. It’s important for our kingdoms to show our cooperation now. It’ll bring peace and prosperity to both kingdoms.”

Peace and prosperity for everyone. That’s why you have to do this. It’s bigger than you.

Phil nodded, returning Martyn’s smile. “I know.”

Martyn’s hand slid around until he wrapped Phil in a tight hug. Phil reciprocated, burying his nose in Martyn’s neck.

“I’m sorry it has to be you. I know it’ll be hard, especially at first, and it’ll all be weird and foreign and new, but I think, one day, you’ll be happy,” Martyn murmured, trying to be as reassuring as possible. His hand rubbed soft circles on Phil’s back.

It wasn’t often that Phil got to see his brother Martyn as opposed to King Martyn, but he was grateful to his brother for understanding what he needed at that moment.

“I’ve been waiting for this my whole life,” Phil said quietly. He pulled back from the hug and put on a brave face and a smile. As much as he appreciated Martyn’s comforts, he knew that if he wasn’t careful with how he showed his feelings then Martyn was likely to call the whole thing off, and that would be much worse than marrying a foreign future king. “I’ll be alright. It’s all in the name of peace and prosperity.”

~~~~~~~~~~

After Phil left his brother to attend to his other kingly duties, he wandered a while, lost in thought. If he’d been back in his family’s palace in Cirrus, he’d have made his way to a quiet corner of the library to sit and think. But Martyn had insisted that Phil come to the negotiations with their rival kingdom, so he was forced to wander unknown territory.

The two kingdoms, Stratalary and Iridacia, had agreed to meet on neutral grounds in Fractalis, their mutual neighbouring kingdom. Years ago, their forefathers had fought a terrible war over a small patch of land to the west of both their kingdoms. Now, after decades of a bitter armistice, the kingdom of clouds and the kingdom of flowers had finally agreed to set aside their differences and sign an official treaty of cooperation and friendship.

Phil was unbelievably proud of Martyn for accomplishing it. Other Stratalarian kings had tried, but none succeeded. This would be an amazing step towards a better, calmer world for all their subjects. If that meant he had to marry a man he’d never met, so be it. It was worth it.

Or at least, that was what Phil was trying to convince himself as he crunched through the icy snow outside the palace at Chrystite.

Marrying for love was always a hopeless dream, he reminded himself, stuffing his freezing hands into his pockets as he approached a high balcony. It was a good dream, but hopeless. And that’s fine. I’ll still be happy. I’m always happy. I just have to find the good, as ever.

He sighed as he stared out into the surrounding mountains. It was beautiful here. Snow and ice covered every inch of the landscape, making everything shimmer. He looked down off the edge of the balcony, admiring the way the mountain dropped off steeply to the ground below. It was frightening, but Phil couldn’t pull himself away. The light cast sharp shadows that made the ground look like a white and blue collection of geometric shapes.

Reaching inside himself, he willed a wispy cloud to form in the abyss, then watched it dance in the wind and sun before dissipating. He did this several more times, before finally creating a stronger cloud closer to him and making it snow. He caught the flakes in his palms and watched as they quickly melted.

When I’m in Iridacia, I’ll play with clouds and help to water their flowers. I’ll show them how pretty clouds can be, and they’ll show me their prettiest flowers. Even if I never love the prince, I’ll fall in love with the land.

~~~~~~~~~~

The wedding was to take place in a month, which meant rushed preparations and many, many meetings and appointments for Phil.

His suit needed to be fitted and modified, he needed to be taught about the culture he was marrying into, he needed to know the schedule of the wedding and reception and who he was supposed to talk to and who he was to avoid at all costs.

A week before the wedding, Martyn talked him through the politics of the situation as Phil put on his wedding attire for one last tailoring check.

“You will marry the prince, of course, and then there will be the wedding reception. You must speak with the royal families this time,” Martyn commanded.

Phil squawked indignantly, turning from fastening his shirt to look at Martyn. “Hey, I always speak with the royal families! Every ball we go to, I spend hours talking to them!”

Martyn fixed him with a look that said, You’re a terrible liar. You’re not getting out of this.

“You won’t have a choice, anyway. You’re not to leave your husband’s side except for your dance with Mum and his dance with his mum, and he’s really going to speak with all the royals.” Martyn lifted his book of notes and instructions on the wedding, checking the contents and pretending not to notice Phil’s groan and pout.

Phil huffed when he realized Martyn wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction, then turned back to the mirror to continue dressing.

“Ah, yes, speaking of the dancing,” Martyn continued, “you will not be allowed to dance with anyone other than the prince or Mum all night. It’s apparently an Iridacian custom for the newlyweds to dance the night away with only each other as a sign of your devotion to your relationship.” He looked Phil in the eyes through the mirror. “That means that even when old Aunt Madelyne comes around expecting a dance, you have to turn her down, understand?”

Phil’s eyes widened. “How in the world am I supposed to do that? She’s so persistent!”

Martyn shrugged. “I’ll have someone warn the Iridacians so they know to look out for her. With some help, you and the prince can steer clear of her.”

Remembering past family celebrations, Phil grinned. “If we stay away from her, she won’t have the chance to tell me all about her cats’ genealogy for the millionth time!” His grin turned smug. “But you’ll still have to listen to her. I bet Mum will make you dance with her twice to make up for missing me.”

Martyn paled. “Oh, god.”

Phil cackled as he straightened his sleeves. His laughter died away in a sigh as he saw Martyn raise the notebook again through the mirror. “What else do I need to know?”

“Well, at the end of the reception, we will be signing the treaty. I will give a short speech about the honour this treaty will bring to Stratalary, then the current king of Iridacia will give a speech on his relief that the matter is finally being put to rest, then their prince will give a speech about his excitement for his future with you and his kingdom.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad. Maybe a bit boring, but nothing too intense,” Phil commented casually. He reached for the cape hanging off the back of a nearby chair but paused when he saw Martyn’s face in the mirror again. “What?” he asked nervously. “You’ve got that face you make when you have to say something but don’t want to say it. What’s wrong?”

Martyn hesitated, his face scrunched up in discomfort. “It’s- it’s just what comes after the reception that you won’t like. I don’t know that it will be bad, but it’ll be…” he trailed off and refused to look at Phil, instead choosing to fiddle with his notebook.

Phil set down the cape and turned to face Martyn fully. “Martyn. Just tell me. I’ll have to know eventually anyway,” he reasoned. He tried not to look as freaked out as he felt. If Martyn was this uncomfortable even telling Phil what it was, then how would Phil feel when he actually had to do whatever it was?

His brother let out a long sigh, then finally made eye contact with Phil. His expression melted from the concerned brother and into the responsible king. “After the reception, you and the prince will travel to the palace at Perennis, where you’ll be living from then on. It’s expected that you two will-” some of Martyn’s facade cracked, letting Phil see an awkward, apologetic expression, “- will consummate the marriage,” he finished.

Phil spluttered. “Excuse me?” he squeaked. So far, he hadn’t complained about any of it. Not the marriage, or the ceremony, or how he’d be sent away from friends and family. Martyn had enough to handle as it was and he didn’t need to feel guilty about taking control of Phil’s life. But this time he couldn’t restrain himself, letting his worry spill out of his mouth in a rush. “Consummate the marriage? I don’t even know the prince! Why is this necessary? It’s not like people are gonna know if we do or-” Phil’s already-pale face got even paler. “There won’t be people watching, right?”

“Oh, god, no,” Martyn reassured quickly, hands held out in a placating gesture. “No one will be in the room but you and the prince, so technically no one but the two of you will actually know if you do it or not. It’s another Iridacian custom that they want you to follow, but that’s between you and the prince.”

Phil’s breath caught back up to him at that. “Thank god. I don't really have to sleep with him, then.” He nodded once, somewhat reassured, and picked up the cape again to try it on.

Martyn’s uncomfortable face came back. “Yeah, probably not.”

Freezing again, Phil slowly looked up from the cape. “What do you mean ‘probably’?” he asked tentatively.

“Technically, the prince has an absurd amount of control over you and could order you to?” Martyn said quickly, fidgeting with his notebook again. “Not that he will- from what I understand, he’s actually really nice and at least a little uncomfortable with this arrangement, too, so it’ll probably be fine-”

“How much control will he have?” Phil whispered.

Martyn cringed and hesitated. “He can’t- like- physically control you, or anything, those are just myths-”

Phil took a step towards him. “I know that,” he said softly. He was a little offended at the implication, if he was being honest with himself. It seemed like Martyn didn’t know him at all if he thought Phil would subscribe to the rumours and stereotypes flying around about the Iridacians. “Please, Martyn. Just tell me.”

Martyn sighed and ran a hand over his face, suddenly looking more exhausted than Phil had realized he could be. “You’ll be completely under the control of the prince and the king. They’ll have to formally approve of everything you do and everywhere you go outside of the castle.”

“So,” Phil started, inhaling deeply. He stared blankly down at the cape still in his hands. “What you’re saying is that I’ll essentially be a prisoner of the Iridacian royalty?”

Solemnly, Martyn nodded. “I’m sorry, Phil. I wish it didn’t have to be like this.”

Phil shrugged. Pull it back, Phil. You have to be strong for Martyn. He forced himself to give Martyn a small smile, then raised the cape and put it on. He turned to the mirror. “How does it look?” he asked, straightening out the fastenings and running his hands down the white suit jacket.

Martyn looked like he wanted to say more about the arrangement, but he held himself back. “You look amazing,” he said. He walked up behind Phil and looked at the two of them in the mirror.

“Thanks,” Phil replied quietly. He scanned himself in the mirror, taking in the full extent of his wedding clothes.

He wore a white suit with shimmering silver embroidery and light grey patches, almost like his suit was meant to camouflage him into a cloud. The cape was just barely long enough to drag on the floor. Phil crinkled his nose at the realization that he’d likely get dirt in the soft white tufts at the end of the train.

“You’re missing one piece,” Martyn commented. He held the veil headpiece in his hand. Phil hadn’t noticed him pick it up, but he watched as Martyn delicately arranged it on his head.

Despite his displeasure at his arranged marriage, Phil did have to admit that the aesthetics of the wedding would be perfect. He wore a white flower crown that draped into a light green veil that covered his face and extended to his elbows. Combined with the white suit and cape, Phil’s wedding clothes would be a symbol of the union of the cultures of the two kingdoms.

“I can almost hear the wedding bells now,” Phil mumbled.

~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 2

#phanfic #phandom reverse bang #fantasy #arranged marriage #fluff #the path to happiness

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bb36ll · 3 years ago

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Advance Auto Parts Can Keep the Good Times Rolling

This column is part of the Heard on the Street Stock Picking Contest. You’re invited to play along with us here.

Even the most cursory reader of news has seen the headlines by now: Used cars are expensive, and weather across the U.S. has been extreme. While that sounds like trouble to most people, it is music to the ears of car-parts retailer Advance Auto Parts for Ssangyong Korando. AAP -0.71%

Investors have been slower to take notice, though. Advance Auto Parts shares are up 32% since the beginning of 2020 but have lagged behind a basket of retailers by 30 percentage points. Meanwhile, a basket of used- and new-car sellers’ stocks has done far better over the same period, even after excluding high-growth e-commerce names such as Carvana.

The blockbuster profits seen in the used-car selling business will wind down when the chip shortage eases. The effects on the Auto Parts for Ssangyong Tivoli and repairs business, however, could prove lasting. The average age of cars and light trucks on U.S. roads is a record 12.1 years according to IHS Markit. In particular, there has been healthy growth in cars aged 4-to-11 years, which is deemed a sweet spot as they are often past their warranty and can be serviced by independent garages—an important customer cohort for Advance Auto Parts for Ssangyong Rexton. The scarcity of new vehicles and higher used-car prices should prompt more car owners to continue repairing their existing vehicles for some time, especially with the absence of another round of stimulus checks. Sure, those prices may be coming off their highs—Manheim data shows wholesale used-vehicle prices declined slightly in July compared with June. But they remain 24% more expensive than a year earlier so a return to normal pricing could take time. Automakers have said the chip shortage could weigh on the production well into the second half of this year.

Meanwhile, this year’s hotter-than-average summer should also help drive up parts demand,

just as the harsh winter did earlier this year. And vehicle miles traveled are still recovering, creating more wear and tear.

Skeptics might fear that sales are already near their peak. In its first quarter ended April 24, Advance Auto Part for Ssangyong Kyron saw same-store sales jump 24.7% compared with a year earlier. Compared with peers, though, Advance Auto Parts appears to have a longer growth runway.

For one, its business leans more heavily on car-repair professionals, who account for roughly 60% of sales. That was a drag last year as pandemic-wary consumers opted for do-it-yourself repairs or put off the work. Demand among professionals is just starting to catch up.

Additionally, car parts didn’t exactly fly off the shelf last year in the Northeast—the company’s largest market—because the region’s mobility was heavily affected by the pandemic. That market is staging a healthy recovery in Auto Parts for Ssangyong Actyon demand, and a return to severe restrictions seems less likely in the highly vaccinated region.

There is also more room to run valuation-wise. Advance Auto Parts for Ssangyong Chairman’ shares fetch 1.31 times enterprise value to forward-12-month revenue, while peers AutoZone AZO -0.73% and O’Reilly Automotive ORLY -1.29% fetch 2.9 times and 3.6 times, respectively, according to FactSet.

The company has lagged behind in recent years because its management, which took the reins after activist investor Starboard Value bought a stake in 2015, didn’t deliver on the targets that some analysts think were unrealistic to begin with.

Most of the heavy lifting is now behind Advance Auto Parts for Ssangyong Rodius. In the past few years, the company has overhauled its organizational culture, found efficiencies among its four different store banners and invested wisely in technology, according to Mr. Ciccarelli’s report.

After years of declining or slowly improving operating margins, the company seems to be turning around. Its full-year margins for 2020 were 7.9%, almost a full percentage point higher than the prior year. Analysts polled by FactSet now deem the company’s 10.5% to 12.5% operating margin goal for 2023 realistic.

It is time for investors to peek under the hood.

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