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mycouchpullsoutbutidont · 4 years ago

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Need to write all this down because I just stared into space for a solid 30 min just dreaming about this scenario / potential fanart comic that I could draw of Ben x Devi (I’ve been obsessing over them for the past couple of days and it’s probably due to me not having good dick since god knows forever)

(Draft)

So the comic will start off with Devi being sort of upset and horny, reminiscing about her interaction with Paxton - maybe a really hot makeout sesh and they’re about to have sex - except last minute, Devi gets cold feet and it’s sexually frustrating for Paxton. So Devi is hella embarrassed and mad at herself for pulling back. She tries to initiate again, but Paxton is just like, “forget it, you’re not ready,” and Devi is like “no, I want it.” And Paxton pauses, looks at her, and shakes his head like “no, you’re not. It’s okay. I don’t want you to feel pressured to do something you’re not ready for.” Which Devi feels insulted by and is terribly sorry. Paxton just smiles and kisses her on the forehead and is like, “I think I should drop you off. It’s getting late.”

End daydream. Devi reels in secondhand embarrassment and is mad at herself for stopping. She vows not to do that again and, of course, in typical Devi fashion, she thinks to herself, “well, if we end up having sex the next time we makeout, I better do my due diligence and research into how to properly have sex.”

And what other way to learn about something than to study up on it?

She begins thinking about how she could do her research. She’s studied anatomy before and knows the basics - the testicles, the glans, urethra, sperm, prostate, yadda yadda. And she’s taken health class and sexual education on how to put on condoms (on bananas- nonetheless - San Fernando valley had pretty liberal sex ed).

But she’s never seen what sex looked like. Never heard it. Never smelled it. Never experienced it from afar or visually.

That’s when she thought of it - porn.

She goes to her room, opens up her laptop, and googles “porn.” Search results pop up, and she catches glimpse of some of the keywords.

“Perky oiled brunette shoves two cocks in both holes”

“Slut sucks slobbers on big veiny dick”

“Curvy sexy ebony rides and squirts before getting facial”

The ache in her groin gnawed even more and—did she just twitch down there? With her blood rushing to her cheeks and between her legs with each horny, perverted word that her eyes came across, her fingers tremble and her body - her breasts - feels like it’s tingling, aching and needing to be roughly handled.

Nervous and horny, she clicks on the first one: porn hub.

She enters a site of orange and black - a pop up window asks if she’s 18 or older. She hesitates, feeling dirty and corrupt. She clicks on enter.

Squares of images lined in a grid populate, organized by category. She skims the words - “Anal”, “BBW,”“Cumshot,” “Compilations”—the list went on and on.

One of the categories catches her eye: “Desi.”

It was both laughable and eye-opening to see that category. A category just for Indian women? She was both amazed and flattered, and for just a brief moment, she wondered if her ancestors could see her.

Her father, she thinks.

Oh god, why is she thinking of him all of a sudden.

Ashamed, she shakes her head, exits out of the window, and closes her laptop. A cool chill runs down her spine, calming her excitement, chilling the pulsating heat that had pooled between her legs. She’s embarrassed for thinking of her dead father and for even thinking of looking up porn. She’s ashamed and pushes her laptop away, now doubly frustrated at herself and for still being sexually pent up. She gets up to grab water in the kitchen, hoping the ice cold water will help temper her aching need.

The doorbell rings.

Devi’s ears perk, and she furrows her brows. Who could this be, she thinks, as she ran down the stairs, walking to the door to peep through the hole.

She gasps, “oh crap.”

It’s Ben!

“Shoot, I forgot!”

Ben was supposed to come over to work on a history project with her - and have dinner, she remembers, since she told her mom and her mom insisted.

“Ah, yes Ben! I remember that boy with the massive pimple on his face who cried in my office!” Devi smirks at Nalini’s comment but then remembers, dammit, why did her mom also want him for dinner?

She opens the door, deepens her frown, a blush creeping on her face as she locks her brown eyes with light blue ones.

“Sup, loser,” Ben says, and Devi almost loses her blush except he smirks, a twinkle in his eye, and a slightly lifted brow. Devi’s eyes trail down over his shirt which clings to his pecs and biceps, and she feels the blush coming back.

And then she notices his strong arms and hair and veins—

“Fuck you,” she says, rolling her eyes, quickly turning her back against him so he doesn’t see her blush harder.

Jeez, what’s wrong with her today? Devi thought (as well as Ben). Why was she so god damn horny?

“What’s your problem, David?” Ben asks. He looks around Devi’s living room. “Where’s your mom?”

Devi shrugs. “Probably at work with her coworkers. Mom’s trying to bring more fun and benefits to motivate them, she claims.”

“Ah, that explains it.” Ben is a little relieved since Devi’s mom was a tough one to please. But, he knew that Nalini had a soft spot for him. (Or, at least he had a 95% confidence level in that thought).

“Actually, kanna, I’m just finish up cooking dinner here with Kamala,” Nalini chimed.

Ben and Devi snapped their heads towards the direction of the kitchen where Nalini and Kamala were cleaning up.

“And if you had helped me like you should have done, you’d know that I was busy cooking up aloo gobi dosas before leaving for my work event later tonight.”

Ben sniffed deeply, the aroma of ghee and asafetida and cumin wafting in the air. How did Devi not notice her mom was cooking with the delicious smells dancing in her home?

“S-sorry mom, I forgot. I just have been feeling a bit out of it today,” Devi replies sheepishly. “Kind of feel hot.” Which was true. Something was terribly wrong with her today for some reason. It felt like there was this growing ache down in her groin that needed to be filled, and with each step she took, every friction against her clit would send shivers of pleasure all over her body.

Before Ben could react, Nalini immediately runs to Devi’s side and places the back of her hand on Devi’s forehead.

“Hm,” Nalini scrunches her brows. “I don’t feel a fever, but you do have a slight blush. Devi, if you’re feeling sick, please don’t get us all sick and go to your room. You should’ve told us and Ben earl—“

“I’m not sick!” Devi blurts, shaking her head. Nalini is taken aback.

“I- I guess,” Devi lowers her voice, trying to come up with an excuse for why she was dickstracted—er, distracted.

“I feel burnt out from studying for AP physics and AP calculus this week,” Devi lies.

“Amateur,” Ben scoffs, smirking. He looks at Devi who snaps to look, looking both mad and flustered, her cheeks tinted slightly redder than normal. It was enough to wipe the smirk off his face. Was she okay?

“I’m not letting you show me up, you jerk!”

Yeah, she was okay, he thought.

“Devi!” Nalini’s jaw fell and she looked like she was about to chew Devi’s face off which terrified Ben.

“N-no, sorry Ms Vishwakumar, that was totally my fault and uncalled for,” Ben cuts in. He looks at Devi who still looks mad at him (but less so, maybe a bit of relief).

“Would it be all right if we study first and then eat dinner?” Ben asks, not sure whether to direct the question to Nalini or Devi first.

“Dinner will get cold,” Nalini warns. “But, I must leave now, so you two can do what you will and whatever regarding dinner.” As she runs towards the door and grabs the keys, Nalini whips her head back and stares daggers at Devi.

“Devi, behave please,” she says through gritted teeth before shutting the door.

Devi sighs in relief and turns to Ben.

“So,” she says, heading towards the stairs. “Let’s get moving. We don’t have much time before dinner gets cold and it’s bedtime.”

Ben nods, walking behind under her. He looks up - damn she has a nice ass - curvy and round. He notices she is wearing a pretty short skirt, and—was that…

Ben blinks twice in disbelief, looking away before looking again. It was no doubt what it was—sticky wet lubricant-like liquid. Running down her inner thigh. Or maybe that’s sweat, he told himself.

Ben blushes. Wow, he felt like such a pervert for staring up her skirt. That and they were going up to her room. To study. Yeah.

(But damn her butt, her curves)

As they enter her room, Ben immediately plops down on the floor, opens his bag quickly, pulls out his AP European history book and notebook, and opening them and flipping through pages (nervously?) and quietly.

“Dude, you’ve been eerily silent this entire time,” Devi torts, and she can’t blame him, can’t blame how nerve wracking it was to have your chiseled (wait shut up Devi) arch nemesis in her room - supposedly a safe haven - to study. Come to think of it, why did she let him in her room? She began to regret her decision, especially when she realized that her nervousness was also turning into heated excitement, her breasts were tingling with desire and even her clit—

“You said you wanted to hurry, so here I am, focused, David,” Ben snaps. He ignores the fact that she’s not wearing a bra and that her tank top isn’t enough to hide her hardened nipples.

(Her cleavage looked so inviting, he dare not stare too long at her tits)

“Actually, for once, you didn’t use your brain and suggest we work downstairs and eat dinner simultaneously instead,” Devi retorted. “Let me just grab my laptop and we can go back downstairs to study and eat dinner at the same time.”

“Don’t put the blame on me for your lack of brain usage,” Ben snapped back, rolling his eyes.

Devi throws a stuffed animal at his head, and he barely dodges it.

“Asshole,” she mutters as she gets on her knees and reaches over her mattress and duvet, grabbing her Macbook.

That’s when Ben saw her soaking wet panties.

Heat rushed from his head to his other head, his cock jumping.

Holy fuck, he thought, is she doing this on purpose? Why did she have to put her ass up like that? Was this intentional? This was a little too cliche, he thought, and porn-like. Girl wearing no bra and apparently soaking wet invites horny boy over to her room and puts her ass in the air while in bed?

“Uh, yeah, yep, sure, that’s probably a better idea,” Ben stammers, trying to ignore his growing boner and grabbing his books. “Lemme just stuff—“

(Those boobs)

“—these boo….ooks. Books. In my bag.” He pushes the last book in his backpack and zips it up.

Oh dear god, did she notice his almost Freudian slip?

He glances over at her, and she’s got a raised brow. “Uh, okay, weirdo, did you just almost say boobs?” Devi says.

“What, no?” Ben says. “You weird pervert.”

“Don’t lie! I saw you staring at my boobs! You’re the pervert!”

“What kind of crap are you projecting onto me for? I’m innocent!”

“You’re like the least innocent person I know!”

“That’s definitely not true,” Ben scoffs. “And even if it was, it’s better than being an Unfuckable Nerd.”

That did it. That was the straw on the camel’s back. Devi was enraged, insulted, and sexually frustrated. Ben had dug into a deep insecurity of hers, a wound that she desperately wanted to heal and prove herself out of. For all her life, she had never felt desirable, never had a boy flirt with her or ask her out or even given her attention. When Ben first called her an “Unfuckable Nerd,” she didn’t show how painful the sting of his insult was to her lonely heart. She did not want to be the forever nerdy virgin who was seen as sexually undesirable and —god forbid—ugly.

(Was that why Paxton pushed her away, she thought briefly?)

“Shut up!” she yells before chucking her laptop at him. She misses by a meter (thank god her eye hand coordination was god awful), but she’s not sure if she was even intending on hitting him with the laptop. Still, the moment the laptop flew out of her hands and onto her carpeted floor (with a nice thud), Ben knew he had made a huge mistake. And so did Devi (though she dare not be the first one to admit that she was wrong).

Except she was really wrong this time.

“Devi!” Ben exclaimed. “I’m—“

“Oh fuck Ben, I’m—“

“So sorry.”

Both Ben and Devi apologized simultaneously, with heavy regret and a tint of fear in their voices.

“N-no, I crossed the line, Devi,” Ben said. “It’s really…misogynistic and objectifying of me to call you Unfuckable.”

Because you’re quite the opposite, he thought.

Devi acknowledged internally the apology, but it still stung painfully in her heart. She wanted to let him know that it still hurt.

(Especially hearing that term from him).

Still, she knew she was also incredibly at fault for almost injurying Ben.

“I’m also sorry, I really…really should’ve not thrown my laptop at you. I could’ve injured you really badly.” Devi dropped down to her knees, getting down to Ben’s level since he was still on the floor, a bit shaken by her throwing her laptop at him.

“I guess I deserved it,” he said. He looked over at the laptop on the ground.

“But if you did break it, don’t expect me to pay for a new one,” he said with a smirk.

Devi rolled her eyes. “I’m not your sugar baby; I wasn’t expecting you to pay for a new one.” She crawls towards her MacBook (Ben consciously looking away since she’s on her knees again) and opens it, praying to herself that it was still functioning.

She tapped on her keyboard multiple times.

Blank screen.

“Oh fuck,” she whispered. She kept tapping on the keys of the keyboard.

No response.

“Crap!” Devi hissed. “Oh no, no no no!” She was sort of panicking. “I knew this would happen.”

“So why did you throw the laptop then?” Ben slyly asked.

“Not. Helpful. Ben.”

Ben scoots closer to Devi, wraps his arm around her—

Devi is shocked, his graze making her melt into his touch, sending the pent up frustration and heat back to her ache and pussy—

But, Ben was only merely reaching around to press down on her laptop’s button for a couple of seconds before the lock screen shone back on.

Oh, Devi thought, a feeling of defeat and disappointment settling in her chest. He wasn’t hugging her.

But, hey her laptop’s alive.

“Oh thank god,” she says, breathing a sigh of relief before turning to him - wow he’s somehow pretty close to her face and body and oof, his proximity sets a fire across her entire body —

“Consider yourself lucky. Looks like you don’t have to buy me a new laptop,” she says, smirking.

Ben scoffs.

“In your dreams, David.”

Oddly enough, Ben’s arm is still wrapped around her, his presence warm and enveloping. Devi is tempted to lean into it but knows better (especially not now when she has been hot and bothered all day).

She types her password in her Lock Screen, hits enter, and gasps in horror as she realized that she didn’t properly close out her browser full of porn -

(which is now blasting moans of cam girls fucking the selves with sex toys all thanks to livejasmin)

“Oh shit!” Devi immediately slams her screen shut again.

But it was too late.

Ben’s brows shoot up, eyes widening and jaw dropping in guffaw. A laugh of disbelief escapes from his throat.

“Holy crap! And you called ME the pervert?” Ben laughs. “Who’s the pervert now?”

But damn, wow, he’s turned on.

He tightens his arm around Devi in a proper hug now, pressing her closer to him, and leans in, an inch from her ear, whispering —

“You’re a dirty girl”—

Before pressing his lips on hers.

#ben gross #devi vishwakumar #ben x devi #never have i ever #fanfic #devi x ben #nhie #mycouchpullsoutbutidont

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thelastspeecher · 4 years ago

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Spirit Touched - Chapter 5: Nephew

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 AO3

Whoops it took me longer to update this than I planned, but it turns out that moving states takes time and effort. Hopefully I’ll be able to update every other week for the last two chapters, but we’ll have to see. In the meantime, enjoy the crew fawning over sick Zuko and a sudden appearance from a certain beloved uncle.

Again, this fic is inspired by @muffinlance‘s fic Salvage and fanart that @agent-jaselin did of it.

——————————————————————————————

It started with a sneeze, the day after they fished Zuko out of the ocean for the second time.

“Aw, you sneeze like a raccoon-kitten,” Toklo cooed. Zuko glared at him. Then sneezed again, louder. A few sparks appeared with the second sneeze. “Uh, little firebenders sneeze fire?”

“I’m not little,” Zuko growled. “But…yes.” He sneezed again. Toklo hurriedly stomped out any sparks that landed on the deck.

“This won’t end well,” Panuk said quietly.

-----

The sneeze progressed to a full-body cough, one that was so obviously agonizing it made the crewmen wince in sympathy.

“We need to follow you around with a bucket,” Aake rumbled, watching Panuk and Toklo rush to put out yet another fire. It appeared that accidentally producing flames wasn’t something reserved for sneezing. Zuko sat down on the deck, even paler than usual. He coughed again.

“That might be a good idea,” Panuk agreed, hurrying to stomp out the new sparks. Zuko let out a low groan. Aake pressed the back of his hand against Zuko’s forehead. He quickly removed it.

“You’re sick, kiddo,” he said to Zuko. His voice had more affection in it than he’d realized he had for the boy. Zuko looked up at him, eyes already glazed over with fever. “Someone better take him to the healer right away. When someone this young gets sick, it can go bad fast.”

“Come on, little brother,” Toklo said, scooping Zuko into his arms. “Wow, you’re warm.”

“No, ‘m cold,” Zuko mumbled blearily. He let out another hacking cough. Toklo carried Zuko to the infirmary while Panuk stayed behind to put out the third accidental fire of the day.

-----

As Zuko’s condition worsened further, he became less and less willing to leave his pile of furs. Eventually, he could only leave the infirmary if carried out. The crewmen checked in near constantly. At first, it was just Toklo, Panuk, and Hakoda. Then Bato. When Aake began to stop by to inquire as to the toddler’s health, Kustaa knew it was official.

Zuko had wormed his way into the heart of every crewman.

“I’m surprised by how frequently you poke your head in,” Kustaa remarked to Aake. Aake stroked Zuko’s hair.

“He reminds me so much of Sitka, especially when he’s wearing blue,” Aake said, keeping his voice soft so as to not wake up the sleeping toddler.

“All Zuko had to do to win you over was be turned into a four-year-old.”

“Hmph.”

“And don’t think that I haven’t noticed you only stop by when he’s asleep.” Kustaa smirked at Aake. “You don’t want him to know how much you’ve come to like him.” Aake rolled his eyes. “Maybe once he’s better, you can be another uncle of his.” The door to the infirmary opened.

“Come on, Kustaa. Let a man miss his son in peace,” Bato said, entering. “Aake, you’re needed on deck.”

“On my way.” Aake’s hand lingered on the crown of Zuko’s head for a moment before he got up and left.

“How is he?” Bato asked Kustaa. Kustaa sighed.

“Sick and getting sicker.”

“Any idea what it is?”

“Not yet.” Kustaa looked at Zuko. “The kid should wake up soon, and once he does, I’m going to ask a few questions about his symptoms. I’m starting to wonder if it’s something only seen in the Fire Nation.” Bato frowned, concerned.

“If it’s a Fire Nation illness, would you be able to cure it?”

“Depends on what it is. I have the instructions for treatments of a few Fire Nation maladies,” Kustaa said. “Not as many as I’d like, though.” Faint stirring came from Zuko’s pile of furs, along with a weak groan. “Are you up, nephew?”

“I’m up,” Zuko mumbled, fighting his way free. He sat up and stretched. “Did you want something, Bato?”

“I just wanted to check in on the sick little pygmy puma,” Bato replied. He ruffled Zuko’s hair. “Feeling better?”

“I’m not feeling worse.” Zuko let out a hacking cough. “Never mind. I am.” Bato raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“No sparks?”

“He hasn’t produced fire on accident for a few days now,” Kustaa said, coming over. He put the back of his hand against Zuko’s forehead. “Hmm. Your fever’s getting worse.”

“Can he firebend on purpose?” Bato asked.

“He is right here,” Zuko grumbled.

“Zuko, would you mind trying to create a small flame?” Kustaa requested. Zuko held out his hands. His brow wrinkled in concentration. The only thing emitted, however, was a weak puff of smoke. “Hmm.” Kustaa stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Bato, could you get him something to eat?”

“Will do.” Bato gently lifted Zuko. “Candy and sea prunes, right?” Kustaa frowned at him.

“Tummy hurts too much,” Zuko said blearily. “Not hungry.”

“Broth it is,” Bato said. He carried Zuko out of the infirmary. Kustaa took down his most thorough book on illnesses.

He can’t firebend…maybe that’s the symptom that will allow me to finally diagnose him.

-----

Hakoda knocked gently on the door of the infirmary.

“Come in,” said Kustaa’s calm voice. Hakoda entered, closing the door softly behind him.

“Any luck?” Hakoda asked.

“Some,” Kustaa said from his spot by Zuko’s side. He gently draped a blanket over the sleeping boy. “I’ve figured out what he has. It’s called bender’s burnout. It’s an illness only firebenders can have, caused by the bender’s inner flame being stifled.” Kustaa got up and walked over to his desk. He pulled out a book. “According to this, hypothermia or a near-drowning are the primary means by which an inner flame is stifled enough to cause bender’s burnout.” Hakoda swore softly.

“This happened because he went overboard again?” he asked. Kustaa eyed Hakoda.

“Before I identified the illness, I knew that was the cause,” Kustaa said.

“Yes, but-” Hakoda shook his head. “He didn’t get this specific illness when we fished him out the first time. Why now?”

“Apparently, bender’s burnout is most common in the very young, because their inner flames tend to be weaker. As a teenager, Zuko’s inner flame was strong enough to hold his own in a firefight. As a child, well. You’ve seen how much effort it takes him to even make sparks.”

“What’s the cure?”

“I don’t know,” Kustaa said softly. His lips flattened into a thin line. “None of my texts have information on afflictions that only affect firebenders. I was lucky to stumble across what I did: symptoms and the cause.” Zuko coughed weakly from his pile of furs. Hakoda looked over at the boy. Zuko’s already pale skin was corpse-white, his forehead shone with a thin sheen of sweat, yet he was shivering intensely. “If we hope to cure him, we’ll need to find a healer who has expertise on firebenders.”

“Where would we find one of those?”

“We could try the next port,” Kustaa said with a shrug. “People believe us when we say Zuko is a war bastard for a reason. There’s a lot of them. And where there are firebenders, there are healers who know how to treat them.”

“There’s no other way to help Zuko?” Hakoda asked softly. A long moment passed. Kustaa shook his head.

“Bender’s burnout doesn’t go away on its own. It needs to be treated. And I don’t know how.” Zuko tossed fitfully in his sleep.

“How long does he have?”

“I’m not sure,” Kustaa admitted. “But my nephew is far more stubborn than anyone else I’ve met. As long as I can continue to manage his symptoms, he should hang on until we make port again.” Hakoda walked over to Zuko. He brushed sweat-drenched hair out of the boy’s face. Zuko leaned into the gesture with a faint smile. Hakoda’s heart ached. Zuko was so young, too young.

“I’ll tell everyone we’re changing course. We’ll head for the nearest port.”

-----

The Akhlut finally arrived at a bustling Earth Kingdom town. Hakoda carried Zuko, buried in furs, off the ship. Kustaa followed close behind. They approached the first person they saw.

“Excuse me, but we need a healer,” Hakoda said urgently.

“Ryo is-” the man started. Kustaa stepped forward.

“We need one specializing in firebender ailments,” he said softly. The man’s eyes widened.

“I hope we can trust you,” Hakoda said. He put as much weight into the words as he could.

“Of course,” the man said. “My son’s best friend is a war bastard. The boy goes to Healer Lee, on the outskirts of town.”

“Thank you,” Hakoda said gratefully. He reached into his pockets for money. The man shook his head.

“Save your money for your…”

“Nephew,” Kustaa said.

“Save the money for him.”

“Thank you,” Hakoda repeated. Zuko let out a weak cough. “Hang in there, Nuktuk.”

-----

This town was lovely. Iroh enjoyed the friendly townspeople. But he couldn’t help being disappointed. It was yet another dead end. He had yet to find any sign of his missing nephew anywhere.

In a sea of green and brown, there was a sudden burst of blue. Iroh looked curiously at the two Water Tribe men rushing through the crowded town square. His eyes widened. They were the same men he’d seen shortly before he arrived at the North Pole. Iroh’s heart sank as he realized that one man wasn’t just carrying furs; a young boy was hidden within them.

What was the boy’s name? Nuktuk? Nuktuk looked deathly ill. Concerned for the boy’s health, Iroh followed from a safe distance. They had just exited town when Nuktuk began to thrash in his father’s arms.

“Lemme down, lemme down!” Nuktuk whined loudly. “I gotta-” Nuktuk’s father (step-father, more likely – the boy seemed to be a war bastard) hurriedly set the boy on the ground. Nuktuk stumbled forward and vomited. His father knelt next to him, rubbing his back.

“Are you okay to be carried again, Zuko?” the man asked. Iroh’s breath caught in his throat. The boy straightened. Now close enough to see him well, there was no doubt as to who the child was. Iroh would recognize his nephew anywhere, with or without the horrid scar on his face.

What have the spirits done?

“Zuko, we need to go to the healer,” said the second man. Zuko nodded. “Can the chief pick you up again?”

“I…” Zuko trailed off. He had caught sight of Iroh. Their eyes met. “Uncle!” Zuko sprinted away from the men, directly for Iroh. Iroh dropped to his knees. He held his arms out. Zuko collided with him.

“Prince Zuko,” Iroh croaked, embracing his nephew as tightly as he could. He could feel Zuko’s fever through his clothes. “Nephew, what are you doing?”

“Seeing a healer,” Zuko replied. Iroh held him out at arm’s length. Zuko’s beautiful golden eyes, normally sharp like a hawk’s, were unfocused and cloudy with fever.

“You certainly need one.”

“Excuse me?” Iroh looked up. The tribesmen had walked over. Iroh stood. He kept a hand on Zuko’s shoulder. “Are you really his uncle? General Iroh?”

“Yes, I am,” Iroh said. Zuko smiled at him. “I have many questions, but I think they can wait until my nephew has seen a healer.” The men looked relieved.

“That would be best, yes,” said one. “We got directions from someone in the village.” Iroh picked Zuko up. Zuko nestled against his chest.

“Lead the way,” Iroh said firmly.

-----

Iroh and the tribesmen sat outside the healer’s house. Zuko had been treated, but needed to rest for a while before the healer would let him leave.

“We should probably introduce ourselves,” one of the tribesmen said abruptly. “I am Chief Hakoda of the Southern Water Tribe. My companion is our healer, Kustaa.” Healer Kustaa bowed his head.

“Why did you need to bring Zuko to a different healer, if you had one?” Iroh asked.

“I’m not well-versed in firebender ailments,” Healer Kustaa replied. Iroh hummed softly.

“By the way, thank you, General, for not attacking when you saw Zuko,” Chief Hakoda said. Iroh leaned back.

“You don’t get to be my age as a soldier unless you learn to take stock of a situation fast,” Iroh said. “The immediate concern was my nephew’s health, not you.” He chuckled softly. “Not to offend you or anything.”

“No, I understand,” Chief Hakoda said. He leaned forward, his hands resting on his knees. “But I still appreciate it. To be frank, we wouldn’t have stood a chance against you.” Iroh chuckled again.

“I know. So, how did you come to have my nephew with you? I received a letter from a friend in the Northern Water Tribe telling me you had Zuko, but the letter didn’t provide many details.”

“We pulled him out of the ocean, half-dead,” Healer Kustaa said.

“Thankfully, the spirits stepped in, ensuring you rescued a young boy. If you had come across a Fire Nation teenager, you would have had a drastically different reaction.” The tribesmen looked at him, bemused. “I have seen firsthand the realities of war; I know what would have happened if you stumbled across someone old enough to be a soldier for the opposing side.”

“He wasn’t a toddler when we rescued him,” Chief Hakoda said slowly. “That particular…situation is more recent.”

“Then you are bigger men than I would have been in my days as a soldier,” Iroh said. The men exchanged a look. Clearly, they were holding something back. But Iroh knewit would be best to wait patiently for further information, rather than immediately pry. “Thank you for taking care of him.”

“Well, the kid’s more endearing than he realizes,” Healer Kustaa said. “Our youngest crewmen befriended him quickly. Once he had them on his side, it was all over.” Iroh beamed.

“I’m very glad to hear that he has been working on his social skills. My nephew tends to struggle to make friends.” Iroh adjusted his seat slightly. “How long has Prince Zuko been like this?”

“A handful of months. He’s actually spent more time with us as a toddler than as a teenager,” Chief Hakoda said. “And before you ask, we don’t know why the spirits did this to him.”

“Zuko might know,” Healer Kustaa said suddenly. Chief Hakoda and Iroh looked at him. “The incident that made him fall overboard, which caused him to get so sick? He’s been talking about it in his sleep. Most of what he says is nonsense, since he’s been so feverish. But every now and then, he mumbles something about talking to a young woman in the moon.”

“The young woman…” Iroh leaned forward. “Prince Zuko wouldn’t happen to be calling her by name, would he?” Healer Kustaa raised an eyebrow.

“He’s called her Yue.”

“A Water Tribe name,” Chief Hakoda remarked.

“Yes, but also the name of the new Moon Spirit,” Iroh said. Chief Hakoda and Healer Kustaa sobered immediately.

“We heard about that,” Chief Hakoda said. “Like everyone else, we saw the moon go dark. When we crossed paths with our sister tribe, they informed us of the tragedy that happened during the Siege of the North.”

“Yes. It was most distressing,” Iroh said solemnly. “I was there.” The door of the healer’s home opened.

“He’s awake now,” Healer Lee said. Zuko toddled out of the house. “Kustaa, come inside, I’ll go over the continuation of his treatment.” Healer Kustaa nodded. He got up and followed Healer Lee inside, ruffling Zuko’s hair on his way. Zuko sat between the two men. He beamed at Iroh.

“I thought I had only dreamed that you were back,” Zuko said happily. Iroh rested the back of his hand against his nephew’s forehead. The boy was still feverish, but whatever the healer had done clearly put him on the mend.

“No, Prince Zuko, I’ve found you,” Iroh said warmly. A strange look crossed Zuko’s face. He looked down at his adorably minute feet.

“Just Zuko, Uncle,” he mumbled. Iroh hid his surprise at the request.

“If you insist, nephew.” The enormous smile was back.

“Are you going to join the ship?” Zuko chirped. His grin broadened. “You could get a fake name, too!”

“I was hoping that the Water Tribe would be kind enough to let me accompany you, yes,” Iroh said with a nod. Chief Hakoda grimaced. “Chief Hakoda, I recognize that you would not be comfortable with two firebenders aboard your ship, but-” The chief was already shaking his head.

“You seem a sensible man, General. As such, you should understand that it’s not my comfort I need to think of, but the comfort of my men. They would not want the Dragon of the West on our ship.” Iroh’s heart sunk. He bowed his head.

“Yes, I understand.”

“What? But- Uncle!” Zuko whined. Iroh put a gentle hand on his nephew’s shoulder.

“Nephew, what is right may not be what I want to do. But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t do it. What is right is that the men who have helped you so much stay comfortable. I cannot be on the ship.” He squeezed Zuko’s shoulder, his heart heavy. “And what is right is that you continue to be treated for your illness. You need to stay with Chief Hakoda, so that Healer Kustaa can take care of you.”

“But-”

“Chief Hakoda,” Iroh said abruptly. “Is your ship headed for a specific destination?”

“Yes.” Chief Hakoda eyed Iroh. “Can I trust you with it?”

“Pakku trusts him,” Zuko piped up. “I trust him. Isn’t that enough?” Chief Hakoda wavered for a moment before sighing.

“Fine. We’re headed to Chameleon Bay, to help the Earth Kingdom Army protect Ba Sing Se.”

“I’ll meet you there.” Iroh smiled at Zuko. “Maybe during my travels, I’ll stumble across a way to return you to your appropriate age.” Zuko’s eyes widened. Healer Kustaa emerged from the house.

“Come on, nephew, you need to lay down for more rest,” Healer Kustaa said, taking Zuko’s hand. Iroh tensed. “Oh.” Healer Kustaa managed a wry smile. “When he was feverish and ill shortly after we brought him on board, he mistook me for you and called me ‘uncle’. Since then, I’ve called him my nephew.”

“…I see,” Iroh said slowly. He stood. “I should leave. It will take me longer to arrive at Chameleon Bay, given I won’t be traveling by ship.”

“Before you leave,” Chief Hakoda said, standing as well, “would you please tell me what happened at the North Pole? Our sister tribe didn’t inform us of any of the specifics, just that the Avatar had been involved in the battle and that the Moon Spirit was killed and revived.”

“It may have been too painful,” Iroh said. “I am more than willing to share with you what I witnessed. But if you don’t mind, I’d like to say goodbye to my nephew.” Chief Hakoda nodded. Iroh turned to Zuko. He knelt on the ground. “Nephew…” Zuko pulled free of Healer Kustaa’s hold and rushed forward to embrace Iroh.

“I don’t want you to leave, Uncle,” he whispered. Iroh rubbed Zuko’s back.

“I know, Zuko. But remember what I said. I can’t do what I want. I must do what is right.” Iroh removed something from his pocket, an item he had been holding on to since Zuko was lost at sea. “Here.” He handed the knife to Zuko. Zuko took it from him with awe in his eyes. “Do you remember this?”

“Never give up without a fight,” Zuko said softly. Iroh smiled.

“That’s right. You are waging many battles right now, young nephew. But keep fighting.”

“I will, Uncle,” Zuko said, holding the knife close to his chest. Iroh ruffled his hair.

“Good. Then I will see you soon.” Iroh stood and watched Healer Kustaa lead his nephew away. Once Zuko was out of sight, he turned to Chief Hakoda. “I am willing to share my stories, but I would like more information as to my nephew’s stay with you in return.” Chief Hakoda nodded.

“I expected as such.” The men began to walk together. “Where would you like me to start?” Iroh sighed, glad to ask the question he’d had since he saw Zuko.

“Why is my nephew dressed like a Water Tribe child?”

-----

“Hold that pose,” Toklo instructed. Zuko wobbled slightly. “C’mon, little brother, just a bit longer!” Zuko’s legs gave out. He collapsed to the deck, coughing. “Maybe we should go back to the basics.”

“No, those katas are for babies,” Zuko snapped. He coughed again. Hakoda, who had been observing Zuko’s practice, crouched next to him.

“You’re only four and recovering from an illness. Pushing yourself right now would do more harm than good,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. “Once you’ve stopped coughing so much, you can move on to the more complicated forms. But for now, I agree with Toklo.” Zuko scowled.

Zuko’s treatment involved him actively practicing firebending. The healer had informed Kustaa that Zuko developed bender’s burnout in large part due to Zuko restricting his firebending to simple meditations.

“He said to me, ‘Water Tribe people might not be very educated, but that’s no excuse for making a young bender suppress his art. No matter the element, if they avoid bending, they’ll become ill,’” Kustaa vented angrily once Hakoda had returned to the ship. “I tried to tell him that the kid didn’t want to bend, but he wouldn’t hear it.”

“Zuko needs to practice firebending, then, to get better?” Hakoda asked. Kustaa nodded.

“And to stave off future bending-related illnesses. He gave me a scroll with forms for children Zuko’s age.” Kustaa handed Hakoda said scroll. “My nephew probably already knows most of these forms, but I guess we could use them as a reference to make sure he’s doing them right.”

Hakoda took the scroll from Toklo and looked over the forms for the easiest.

“Turtle-duck pose,” he instructed. Zuko scowled, but did as he was told. “Good work, kid.” Zuko’s scowl was replaced with a grin that stretched ear to ear.

Initially, Zuko had brushed off any compliments he got on his bending forms. Hakoda had a feeling that Zuko’s reaction was because he didn’t believe them. Thankfully, it only took a week for the boy to shift gears from doubt to exuberance at being told he had done a good job.

“Chief?” Bato called from his spot at the ship’s bow. Hakoda ruffled Zuko’s hair, handed the scroll back to Toklo, and walked to his second-in-command.

“What is it?” Hakoda asked. Bato handed him a spyglass silently. When Hakoda looked through it, he swore. “Fire Nation.”

“Yes.” Bato’s face darkened as he stared in the direction of the ship he’d spotted. “And they’ve definitely seen us. We won’t be able to avoid battle.”

“You’re right.” Hakoda swallowed. “Hopefully, Zuko will sleep through it.”

“He’s a light sleeper.”

“Not lately. Being sick can make you sleep like the dead.” Hakoda handed the spyglass back to Bato. “I’ll inform the crew to prepare for battle.” Hakoda looked back at Zuko. The toddler was unsteadily working through the basic firebending forms for Toklo. “And I’ll see if Kustaa can put him to bed earlier than usual, so that he misses the fight.”

-----

Zuko did sleep through the entire battle. Better than that, however, was that no one on the ship had fallen. Any blood stains or scorch marks on the deck were hurriedly scrubbed away before Zuko could see, though he did get told the day after. Like before, Zuko sat watch with a small flame in his palms.

The rest of the trip passed by without incident. Not just Hakoda, but the crew as a whole felt a swell of pride as Zuko became more confident in his bending practice, progressing from the basic steps to the intermediate ones quickly. Well, the ones considered intermediate for his age. The boy was eager to begin the advanced movements, but Hakoda felt they were still beyond his ability. Not to mention, the advanced katas seemed more likely to accidentally set the boat on fire.

“Finally!” Zuko whooped as they landed at Chameleon Bay. “I miss dry land.” Scattered chuckles sounded among the crew. Bato stopped him from rushing down the gangplank after Hakoda.

“Hold on, little warrior. Before we come ashore, the Chief needs to meet with whoever’s in charge.” Zuko cocked his head curiously at Bato.

“Isn’t Chief Hakoda in charge? I thought he was the leader of the entire Southern Fleet.”

“He is, but it’s still important to announce ourselves to the person that has been running things. Once we’ve settled in, the Chief will take over.”

“The Chief also needs to let the other men know we’ve got a Fire Nation brat on board,” Aake added. Zuko frowned at him. “Otherwise, you might get a chilly welcome.”

“I guess,” Zuko muttered, crossing his arms. Bato ruffled his hair.

“Go help Kustaa take stock of the infirmary supplies while we figure things out, okay?” Bato said. Zuko sighed and toddled off. Bato shook his head, hiding a smile. “Damn kid really weaseled his way into all of our hearts.”

“I’m taking bets on how quickly he does the same to the tribesmen already here,” Panuk drawled. “So far, no one’s put anything down on it taking any longer than a month.”

“Well, yeah, those odds are too slim,” Toklo said. “My little brother’s gonna have everyone eating out of his hand in a couple weeks at most. Especially with his lingering cough.” According to Kustaa, Zuko was no longer ill. His occasional coughs were just the result of his sickness irritating his throat.

“I agree,” Bato said. “‘Nuktuk’ has a very endearing backstory.” He looked at Panuk. “Put me down for twelve days.”

#Spirit Touched #ATLA #Zuko #Hakoda #Bato #Uncle Iroh #my writing #my stuff #fanfiction #speecher speaks

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lovely-rita-meter-maidd · 5 years ago

Note

Hello :) can I request a ficlet inspired by High Fever made by Macca-is-art? Thank you :)

Oh gosh I love that art so so much! Everyone go check out all of their work if you haven’t already because it’s literally the best fanart I’ve ever seen 💕

@macca-is-art I hope you don’t mind me writing a little ficlet based on you’re art but don’t hesitate to let me know if you do ❤️

———————————————————————

Paul had known from that very morning there was something wrong with John. He’d been acting off all day, being almost completely silent in conversation and constantly going out for fresh air.

Paul had asked him if he wanted to end the session for the day early but John had refused. Paul hadn’t expected him to go home anyway because John’s too stubborn for that.

So he sits and watches as John’s voice starts to waver and he starts to sweat. It’s odd because they’re in the middle of September so the weather’s mild, therefore Paul can’t come up with any other explanation for John looking so ill is that he’s actually ill.

Paul stays next to John for nearly the whole time, ready and waiting to drag him home and put him to bed when necessary, but John keeps swatting him away until Paul ends up sharing a mic with George instead.

They’re on their last song now, and Paul can hear the strain in John’s voice as the older cranks out note after note. He lets his eyes focus on John as he sings, watching as the older man sways slightly on his feet. Paul wants to stop. Tell everyone to pack up their things and take John back to his flat and care for him. Instead he lets John carry on singing with worried eyes.

Paul looks away for a split second as his mouth almost collides with the mic when there’s a loud crash beside him.

His head snaps down to find John on the floor, limbs splayed outwards making it obvious he hadn’t been able to catch himself and must have blacked out far too quickly.

Paul’s beside him before the track even ends, and he rolls John over gently, pulling him into his lap slightly. Paul’s hand shakes as it rests on John’s head, feeling the heat sear at his skin.

“He’s burning up,” Paul says, though he’s not sure if anyone hears him. He moves John’s fringe from his face, running his fingers through the thick auburn hair before he shakes him slightly. It makes John stir, and he squints up at Paul. John’s face is flushed, red staining his cheekbones and forehead whilst his eyes remain bloodshot.

“John?”

It’s obvious John’s not okay, and Paul immediately feels guilty for letting him carry on for so long.

With the help of George, Paul manages to pull John up from the floor into a standing position. He wraps an arm around John’s waist before they head out to his car.

John seems way too out of it, and his head lolls against Paul’s shoulder as they make their way to the car.

Paul’s quick to get in and drive away from the studio.

“Where we goin’?”

The words are slurred around the edges, and Paul winces slightly at how fragile John sounds. He must be really ill if he’s letting Paul see how bad he feels.

“My house,” Paul states, and it seems to be a good enough answer for John who hums a reply, curling in on himself.

By the time they get to Paul’s house, John has to be practically hauled over Paul’s shoulder, for his feet stumble with every step and he’s mumbling incoherently. Paul fears the fever is too high and he’ll have to take John to the hospital. He hopes not, but the first thing he does when they get in the house is take John’s temperature.

It comes back quite high at 39°C, but it’s not high enough to get medical attention yet.

The next thing Paul does is take John to bed. The older man starts to protest, pulling at Paul’s arms to let go of him as the younger man hauls him down to the bedroom.

Once John’s in bed, still mumbling under his breath, Paul quickly wets a towel in the bathroom sink before sitting back on the bed.

John’s eyes are closed but Paul’s not sure he’s asleep. He wipes away the sweat forming on John’s forehead with the towel before resting it flat, hoping it will help cool him down. He rubs a hand through John’s hair, comforting him silently as the older man starts to fall asleep.

Paul hates seeing John so ill, and he kisses his cheek gently. He just hopes John will feel at least a little better when he wakes up.

#mclennon #the beatles #the beatles fanfiction #fanart #fanart appreciation #angst

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mrslittletall · 5 years ago

Text

Title: The Crazy Cat Vicar (Chapter 9) Fandom: Bloodborne Characters: Laurence the first Vicar, Laurence' secretary Florence (OC), Gehrman the first Hunter, Lady Maria of the Astral Clocktower Word Count: 1.928 AO3-Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20989841/chapters/59851126 Previous chapter: https://mrslittletall.tumblr.com/post/619196140363071488/title-the-crazy-cat-vicar-chapter-8

Summary: It's the countdown. The ten seconds you have to save your carpet. Or your couch. Whatever. The important thing is, that cat has to get somewhere else!

(Author's note: My apologies, but this chapter is a bit gross because it focuses on the habit of cats to puke out things, mostly hairballs. I swear, every cat owner will know the struggles in this chapter. I very much give an emetophobia warning, because there is some teasing vomit talk, but there is nothing too graphic.

Also, the only reason I pumped this out already was that I received some fanart made by @onlytheembersremain for the last chapter!)

“So, we expect your presence around-”, the church minister said, but Laurence interrupted him.

“Hold that thought, I will be back in a few minutes.”, he rattled down and then was off, leaving a very confused church minister behind.

The problem was, while the church minister had talked with him, Laurence had started to hear what he referred to as the “countdown”. It was a gurgling kind of sound and he swore, from the first time it was heard, he could count down from ten and when he was at zero it would be too late. Laurence considered himself lucky that he had heard it this time, because often enough he wasn't present when the countdown happened and was met with a wet and gross surprise.

“I got yoooouuuu!”, Laurence shouted as he rounded the corner where Mary was about to finish the countdown and hurled the cat from the carpet, only for Mary to stop retching for a second, turning around and then finishing the countdown right on the carpet.

“Oh, Mary, COME ON!”, Laurence yelled, barely believing that he had made it in time only for the wet and gross hair ball to land on the carpet anyway. Mary just looked at him as she licked her snout and gave him a mew.

“Don't fucking mew me, Lady, you are in trouble.”, Laurence said, pointing down on her, narrowing his eyes. “But first... I have to clean up.”

Grumbling, Laurence went down the corridor and mumbled to himself: “That church minister probably thought I had to run to the bathroom or something... I swear, they better not have any rumours about me having the runs or something similar...”

Laurence stopped in front of a closet and got a bucket and a cleaning cloth out, stopped at the nearest bathroom to fill it with water and fetch a towel and then went back to where Mary had puked out her hairball, of course the cat wasn't present anymore, running away from her punishment. He kneeled down and wrapped the hairball into the towel. “Disgusting.”, he said as he felt the gross and warm thing. Hair balls didn't sound so bad on paper, but the fact that they were coated in hot stomach acid made them so much worse. Once the hairball was safely secured and on the side, he moistened the cleaning cloth and was just about to start scrubbing the carpet, when Florence' voice sounded.

“Oh, Vicar, I heard that you got sick, but I had no idea that you didn't made it. Shouldn't you go lay down and take some blood and let me clean this up?”, she said.

“Already?! Shit, Florence, I am not sick, it was Mary!”, Laurence yelled as he shot up, pointing at the towel, upset that the church minister already had interpreted him running away in the worst way possible. Had he given the expression that he needed to puke? He might have looked pretty shocked once he had heard the countdown and maybe had sweat a bit and maybe had been pale and... he pretty much had given the impression as if he had needed to puke.

Laurence sighed and kneeled down again when Florence said: “The countdown?”

“The countdown.”, Laurence confirmed and started to scrub the carpet, unsure if he would ever get the stain out of it.

“But Vicar, you don't have to clean it up yourself, let me handle this.”, Florence said, already on her knees.

“Didn't you had trouble with your back this month?”, Laurence asked, fully aware that his secretary wasn't the youngest anymore.

“Oh, nothing what the healing blood can't fix.”, Florence waved aside with a smile.

“Still, I know that you don't like to be overabundant on the blood.”, Laurence said. He personally couldn't get enough of the stuff, it may have turned into a slight problem, but he could stop anytime, he just didn't had a reason to. Florence on the other hand, was seeing the blood more as a medicine that should be used for emergencies as well as sicknesses and injuries that would had trouble healing on their own. Her bad back normally wouldn't be a reason for her to take the blood.

“While this is true, what shall the church servants think when they see their Vicar sitting down scrubbing the carpet? That action is below your dignity, your grace.”, Florence said.

“These are still my cats and I am responsible for them.”, Laurence said. “If anyone sees me like this, so shall it be. I am just taking responsibility for the mess they are making. I mean, it could be worse. At least it was only the carpet.”

“Yes, I remember when Mary vomited all over the library books once.”, Florence said and Laurence groaned at the memory: “Don't even remind me of that. I spend fucking two hours apologizing to the librarian in charge while having to find puke anywhere and everywhere, in cracks and chinks where puke never should have travelled!”

“I wonder why Mary is so susceptible to the countdown?”, Florence asked as Laurence squeezed out the cloth and made it wet anew.

“It's her fur, I think.”, he said. “She cleans herself and swallows a lot of fur and that has to come out again. Granted, the other cats sometimes do the countdown too, but it is Mary in 90 % of the cases. At least with her I can be sure it is a hairball, Mick once found it funny to puke out a whole bowl of food because he had eaten too fast and Gary was puking out parts of a mouse he must have hunted. That was some fucking horror show to clean up...” Laurence wrinkled his nose at the memory. “When I took in cats, nobody warned me about the countdown.”

“I heard it is different from cat to cat.”, Florence said. “I also heard that cat owners get used to it.”

“I certainly got used to it by now.”, Laurence sighed, scrubbing on the stain., “But I still try to prevent the countdown from landing on my carpet whenever I hear it. Ugh, that feels like it already burned itself into the carpet. I wonder if this is how Gehrman felt whenever he had to clean up my vomit.”

“That felt definitely worse.”, Gehrman said, making Laurence shot around, hissing: “What are you doing here?!”

“Watching you being on vomit cleaning for once, quite entertaining.”, Gehrman grinned and then greeted Florence.

“If you are already here, can you at least help me?”, Laurence complained, but Gehrman shook his head. Florence raised her brows because Laurence had declined her helping just five minutes earlier.

“I think I had my fare share of helping you clean up vomit already during your regular stomach flus back in the school.”, Gehrman said.

“He got sick easily, huh?”, Florence asked, eyes focused on Gehrman, clearly interested in what Laurence' old friend had to say.

“That is an understatement.”, Gehrman grinned. “He would get a cold with a high fever every winter, we could bet on when it would happen. And sometimes he even got the cold outside of winter. And, like I said, often enough he got himself a stomach flu and had to spend the next few hours either hunched over the toilet or with a bucket. I got really good at reading the signs for when Laurence had to puke, but sometimes I came too late and then it meant cleaning time.”

“So you had kind of a countdown of your own.”, Florence said.

“Countdown?”, Gehrman asked.

“That's what we call it when the cats are about to puke.”, Laurence said, an eye twitching in anger, “And I would cherish if you wouldn't go around and tell everyone about when and where I had to puke.”

“First, I have only told Florence and second, I haven't even told her specifics. But I can, if you wish to hear, Florence.”, Gehrman had a glint in his eyes and Laurence shot up, almost shoving the dirty cleaning cloth in Gehrman's face, or more his chest, Laurence just was too small to reach Gehrman's face properly.

“Don't you dare.”, he grumbled.

“It looks like Laurence doesn't want us to have fun.”, Gehrman said, shrugging. “I am sorry, Florence, but at least I can answer your question. Yes, I indeed had a countdown when I realized that Laurence needed to hurl. It were usually five seconds and I swear I could never move faster than when it started.”

“For the cats we have about ten seconds.”, Florence replied. “For some reason, they like to take their time with the countdown.”

“And I still was too late.”, Laurence sighed and put the finish touch on his scrubbing. He had the feeling the carpet would be stained forever, but at least it wasn't obvious anymore. “There, that should do it. And don't try and clean it too, Florence.”

“I haven't done anything.”, Florence said.

“I can see that itch in your eyes.”, Laurence said, knowing what a clean freak his secretary could be.

“I don't see what the problem of her cleaning it again is.”, Gehrman said. “Why were you even cleaning it up in the first place?”

“Because the Vicar sees it as his responsibility.”, Florence replied. “Even though he asked you to help earlier and you declined.”

“Well, yeah, because I used to clean and am pretty good at it, it was just too amusing to see Laurence clean up for once.” Gehrman grinned.

“Shut up, Gehrman. Why are you even here alone? Where is Maria?”, Laurence asked.

“Oh, she is...”, Gehrman said when Maria came around the corner, carrying a cup with a steaming hot liquid and said: “Hey, Laurence, I brought you some chamomile tea for your upset stomach.”

Laurence just stood there and tapped his food: “Florence, would you please go around and tell everyone in the church that I don't suffer from food poisoning?”

“Understood.”, Florence said and gave Laurence a bow before she hurried down the hallway.

“Oh, so you are fine? I heard that you hurried away in the middle of a conversation, so I thought that you got sick.”, Maria said. “Do you still want the tea?”

“Yes, I would like the tea.”, Laurence said and took the cup from Maria, taking a sip. “It wasn't me who got sick, it was Mary. Hairball, you know.”

“Ah yes, I have stepped in one of them once.”, Maria nodded. “Disgusting little things. Hard to think that it could come out of something as cute as a cat.”

“The same could be said about Laurence' puke.”, Gehrman grinned which prompted Laurence to deliberately step on his foot, the one that was still there.

“I think I am overstepping my boundaries.”, Gehrman grinned and backed away.

“One more dumb saying and I am stepping on something else.”, Laurence warned and then his head jerked around as he heard it again. The countdown.

“Fuck!”, he yelled and was off. Gehrman and Maria just glanced at each other.

“Should we follow him?”, Maria asked.

“Yes, I think we should.”, Gehrman said and soon the duo were on their friend's tail, ready to help him clean up whatever cat would finish the countdown yet. (Author's note: One time Clara projectile vomited all over the keyboard of my husband. There wasn't even a countdown, it just happened. Clara managed to puke in so many hard to clean places, she surely is a pukey cat. She mostly pukes out whatever she ate and this cat is ALWAYS hungry, I don't get it. Geraldina is the classical hair ball puker, when she pukes you can be sure that it will be a hairbal 99 % of the time. Lately she likes to sit behind me on the couch, she is also sitting there right this moment. Write me stories about your cats in the comments, maybe I take some inspiration for future chapters.) Chapter 10

#bloodborne #fanfiction #laurence the first vicar #oc florence #gehrman the first hunter #lady maria of the astral clocktower #littlewritesstuff

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autisticteru · 8 years ago

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A Kick in the Teeth is Good for Some - CHAPTER 6

Summary: All Ritsu wants is to move on and be happy with his life. But something keeps growing inside him. From his stomach to his chest to his throat and out his eyes and mouth, until it fully surrounds him making it impossible to ignore. He can cut it down, but it will just grow back. He needs to destroy it, to pull it up from the roots. And he thinks he finally knows how. But there’s only one person who can help with that. Unfortunately, that person is Teruki Hanazawa.

Read on AO3 HERE

Read from the beginning HERE

Individual chapters:

Check out fanart for this chapter! (x) (x) (x)

Chapter 6: Bonds

The next drill consisted of what Ritsu could only describe as a psychic equivalent of weightlifting. He was able to lift smaller objects, and was even able to lift Teru when he wasn’t resisting, although that required a significant amount of effort. But his level of skill was nowhere near Teru’s.

“You were actually able to lift an entire fleet of cars by yourself?”

“I had some help from the kids from the Awakening Lab, but I really was doing most of the work. Takeuchi also helped me later. I was also running a high fever at the time so I wasn’t in the best of shape.”

“You were running a high fever?”

“Yes, I just said that.”

“So were you also sick when we were fighting Shimazaki?”

“Yeah. It’s kind of a shame. Maybe if I was in better shape I would have been able to kick his ass harder.”

Ristu was speechless. Teru was just talking about this as if it were no big deal. Was that some attempt at being humble? Because it was pissing Ritsu off.

Teru walked over to the backpack he left lying on the ground and pulled out a notepad and a pen.

“What’s that for?” asked Ritsu.

“Progress tracking.” Teru flipped open the notepad and started writing something down. “I was going to do this initially with the barrier training, but I fucked that up.”

“I told you, I was just about to tell you to stop.”

“Well then I’m sure you’ll do better tomorrow when I actually track your progress on that. But for now let’s focus on your telekinesis.”

Teru’s writing eventually came to a stop, and he opened his mouth to speak once more.

“So here’s the deal,” started Teru. “You can lift objects as big as people, and you can blast away objects even bigger. But you can’t lift anything much heavier than a fridge, you can barely move me when I’m resisting, and you can’t lift yourself.”

“I probably could have just told you that.”

“No. It’s better I see you attempt. I can at least make an estimate of how much potential you have that way.”

“So what do you think?”

“I think in order to beat Suzuki-kun, you need to at least be able to lift the equivalent of a cement truck.”

“A what?”

“I’m not finished yet. Your telekinesis also needs to be able to have some sort of effect on me. You need to be able to hurt me with telekinesis. You also need to be able to lift yourself, as well as learn some techniques that travel outside the basics. And you need to be creative with how you use your basics.”

“How long is this going to take?”

“I’m still not finished. You also should try and have something in your arsenal to surprise your opponent. For example; I can attack and defend simultaneously. That’s a rare skill that most espers wouldn’t expect. You need to have a skill like that to throw your opponent off guard.”

“Are you finished now?”

“Yes.”

“So how long do you think this is going to take?”

“It’ll take as long as it takes, Ritsu-kun.”

Ritsu had to wonder why he expected anything other than a vague answer. Teru noticed Ritsu rolling his eyes, and spoke again.

“Ritsu-kun, if there’s one thing I’ve learned since I met your brother, it’s that people are full of surprises. I want you to surprise me.”

It was a lot to take in, to say the least. Teru’s list of requirements was heavier than expected. And Teru seemed to have high expectations. But Ritsu was used to it. They were no higher than the expectations Ritsu put on himself. Not even close.

The rest of the training consisted on various drills designed to improve strength. Teru would throw rubble at Ritsu’s barrier to see how well Ritsu could adjust his power levels appropriately on reflex. Teru would gather up large pieces of rubble and rock to make boulders for Ritsu to attempt to break. Everything was going smoothly, which was surprising considering their rocky start. Perhaps it was because there was no need for conflict between the two espers. It was simple. Teru would tell Ritsu what to do and Ritsu would do it. The exercises were productive and Ritsu had no reason to complain. This was what he asked for.

“You’ve been doing well so far!” said Teru as he bent down to sit next to him. For the first time, Ritsu considered responding with a “thank you,” but a mouthful of tofu kept him silent. Both boys were sitting with their legs dangling off a broken ledge, but only Ritsu was eating.

“Although,” Teru started again as Ritsu gulped down what was left in his mouth. “If you were hungry you really should have said something.”

“I thought you’d know when a reasonable time to eat was.”

“Sorry, I forgot to keep track of time.”

Ritsu continued eating in silence for a few more minutes until he noticed that Teru hadn’t even moved to reach for the backpack of food.

“Aren’t you going to eat?”

“Oh, no don’t worry. I’m not hungry.”

“You’re not hungry?”

“Yes, what about it?”

“It’s been four hours.”

“Has it now?”

“Yes! You were the one who said that first!”

“Ah, sorry. I guess I’m a bit forgetful today.”

Ritsu stared at Teru in silence, stunned. Ritsu knew Teru was strange, but this was weird even for him. After staring a bit, Ritsu noticed something else that was off. Teru wasn’t moving. He was staring straight ahead, eyes perfectly still and unblinking. There was no sound or movement coming from him to give off the impression that he was breathing. In fact, there was no heat coming off of Teru at all. Teru suddenly started moving again when he appeared to notice Ritsu’s stares.

“Is something the matter?” asked Teru.

“Ah! It’s nothing!” Ritsu tried his best not to look suspicious, but he was sweating from nervousness.

“Are you sure? Is there something on my face?”

“Uh…” Ritsu genuinely could not figure out how to answer that question. There was nothing on his face. No pores. No wrinkles. Nothing.

“I’m just wondering what we’re going to do next!” Ritsu hoped that was a good enough response.

“Ah, are you that excited? Then we’ll start the final spar right away!”

Teru slid off the ledge and let himself fall down to the clearing at the bottom of the crater where most of their training had taken place.

“Aren’t you coming?” Teru yelled up.

“Oh, right!” Ritsu nervously hopped down to Teru’s level and tried his best not to focus on his body that was approaching uncanny valley territory.

“The rules are simple. Whoever can stun their opponent for ten seconds wins. Got it?”

“Y-yeah…”

“Don’t be nervous, Ritsu-kun. I don’t expect you to win the first time. Just try your best!”

On any normal occasion Ritsu would have been annoyed by a comment like that. Teru twisted his knees into his signature stance and counted to three before darting straight towards Ritsu. Ritsu put up his barrier and blocked Teru’s first attack, which appeared to be an energy bomb. Teru hopped back as the explosion went off and Ritsu decided to lower his barrier to make his own attack. Until he heard someone speaking right behind him.

“I’m disappointed in you, Ritsu-kun.” The voice was so close Ritsu could feel it breathing down his neck. But before he could turn around and react to it he felt something wrap tightly around his body.

“What-?!” Ritsu felt himself being swept off his feet. His arms were now fully secured to his sides, completely restraining him. Looking down, he saw that the thing tying him up was what appeared to be a rope of yellow psychic energy. Following it down he could see Teru connected to it a few feet below him next to… another Teru?

“Three seconds,” said one of the Terus. Ritsu was so dizzy he couldn’t really tell which one it was..

“How-”

“It took me three seconds to beat you. And I only needed to lift a finger. But that’s not why I’m disappointed in you.”

Ritsu struggled against the bind to get a better view of his now duplicated opponent. There certainly were two Terus standing on the ground, both with stern looks on their faces. One of them was holding his finger up where the energy connected to. Ritsu had a good idea of what was going on.

“You cloned yourself?”

The second Teru suddenly vanished into thin air, answering Ritsu’s question.

“Ritsu-kun, do you know how long you’ve been training with that clone?”

Ritsu stopped struggling and froze, stunned. Suddenly everything made perfect sense.

“Since lunch, right?” answered Ritsu.

“Wrong. You’ve been training with that clone since we started telekinesis training.”

“Eh?!” Ritsu couldn’t believe his ears. Teru had to be joking.

“So you didn’t even notice that anything was wrong until lunch.”

“Wait a second! You can’t be serious!”

“I was even trying to make it easy for you, you know. I made sure my footsteps were loud so you could hear me walk in the other direction, and then silently sent the clone right next to you. Did you not notice that?”

“Ah!” Ritsu remembered, “I did! But I-”

“But nothing. You did nothing. You said nothing. You know for someone who outright told me that you don’t trust me, you sure do trust me a lot.”

“But why did you-”

“Ritsu-kun, why didn’t you say anything during lunch?”

“I don’t know! What was I supposed to even say? ‘Hey Teru-san, I noticed you don’t have a heartbeat. What’s up with that?’”

“Would have been better than nothing.”

“Oh, just shut up and let me down! You win, okay?”

“Are you telling me that you want me to free you?”

“Yes!”

“Did you also want to have lunch an hour ago?”

“Huh?”

“Listen up, Ritsu-kun. This is a lesson. I can let you go, but I can’t free you. You need to do that yourself.”

Teru brought Ritsu back down to the ground and released him.

“Alright,” said Teru in a much more upbeat voice. “You failed your first test, but that’s ok. Failure is the best teacher. I’ve learned that from experience.”

“You mean when my brother kicked your ass?”

“Anyway,” said Teru, ignoring Ritsu’s comment. “Do some stretches and we’ll run back to the bus stop. Same time tomorrow. Weekends off. Got it?”

“Got it.”

It was going to be a long break.

“Ah, welcome back Ritsu!”

Had it been a few months ago, Ritsu would have been happy to see his brother relaxing on the couch. He would have returned his warm smile and offered to play video games with him. But that was back before all this.

It was growing up his throat now. What was it? Ritsu was too tired to even contemplate it.

“Hey, Nii-san.”

“You look exhausted. You were out with Suzuki-kun all day though, so I don’t blame you.”

“Um, yeah. I, uh, learned a lot from him.”

“I’m sure you’ll get better! You can do anything you put your mind to!”

“Yep. Thanks.”

Ritsu hurried up to his room and shut the door quickly behind him and crashed on top of his bed. Everything hurt. And yet, there was something nice about the pain. Maybe it was because physical pain was always easier for Ritsu to handle. He was no stranger to it at this point.

A knock on the door violently pulled Ritsu out of his thoughts as he flinched at the sound of it.

“C-come in!” He sputtered out. And in came a concerned-looking Mob with wide eyes and a gentle air.

“Ritsu, are you okay?”

“Ah, I’m fine! Don’t worry about me, Nii-san.” Ritsu gave the best smile he could muster, hoping his brother would believe him. But Mob’s expression did not change.

“You’ve just been acting strange…” Mob’s quiet voice trailed off, as though he were thinking of what to say next. But when he finally spoke, the words that came out of his mouth were the worst possible words Ritsu could have ever expected.

“Am I bothering you?”

Ritsu clenched the sheets of his bed as his chest turned bright red. Ritsu could feel it. That feeling. It grew out past Ritsu’s throat and wrapped itself firmly around his tounge. It begged for attention and dug its roots deep below his stomach and through his intestines. Ritsu’s body was running out of room to hold something this violent.

“No! Not at all!” said Ritsu with the most forced smile imaginable. “You’ve done nothing wrong! I’m just tired from hanging out with Te-uh, Suzuki, is all! I’m fine though!”

Mob stood silent for a bit, but then smiled.

“Okay Ritsu. I trust you. But just remember you can always trust me too! If you ever need to talk I’m here.”

And with that, he left, closing the door behind him. And Ritsu was left shaken, gagged by his own emotions manifesting his every orifice. Everything hurt, inside and out. His body was sore. His body was full of thorns. Ritsu did not breathe when Mob left. He did not move.

Ritsu skipped dinner that night.

Teru walked up the steps to his apartment. It had been a long day and he was actually getting pretty hungry. But as he turned the corner at the top of the steps he saw an unexpected, yet familiar face walking down the hall. She was a tall, middle-aged woman with dark hair. Her eyes lit up as soon as she saw Teru, and he was greeted with a wave and a warm smile.

Her name was Midori, and she was the landlady. She was also Teru’s aunt. Teru was immediately filled with dread.

“There you are, Teru-chan!”

“Ah, hello Aunt Midori. What are you doing here? Did someone skip out on paying rent?”

“Oh, it’s nothing like that! I was just trying to check up on you, but you were out. I see you’re wearing a tracksuit! Were you exercising?”

“Uh, yeah. Something like that. Ah-!” Midori grabbed onto Teru’s arm and started squeezing it.

“Wow! Your muscles have grown so big, Teru-chan!”

“H-hey!” Teru pulled her hands off of him.

“Oh, sorry! I should have asked first. But really, don’t you think you’re making it a bit unfair for the rest of your classmates? They must be so jealous of you for having magic powers and huge muscles!”

“They aren’t magic powers, Aunt Midori. We’ve been over this.”

“Eh, I don’t know. Being able to lift things with your mind seems pretty magical to me. So how have you been?”

What a loaded question.

“Uh, alright I guess.”

“What about your girlfriend?”

Teru was clenching his fists so hard he could feel the pain of his nails digging into his palm.

“She’s been busy lately so I haven’t seen her much. But we’re still dating!”

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

“I’m glad to hear it! You should bring her over soon so I can see her!”

Teru reached his hand up to his chest to unzip his tracksuit. His shirt was damp. His forehead was going red. The air around him felt like it was on fire. He had to change the subject.

“So why were you checking up on me?”

“Oh yeah, that! Well your parents have been worried about you. You haven’t been answering phone lately. I tell them that you’re fine, but they’d really like to see you!”

Teru put on the calmest most casual smile he could muster.

“Oh, I’ll give them a call soon!”

“You know, you are on break. Why don’t you go and visit them?”

“Well, I actually have plans with a friend so I can’t exactly leave.”

“Oh? What kind of plans?”

“Oh, you know. Personal plans.”

“Well if you have time, you should really consider it!”

“Yeah, I will. Don’t worry.”

Midori’s smile quickly faded and she began looking at Teru with concerned eyes.

“Teruki…” she said, “It’s been three months.”

Teru’s heart began to race as his head went light.

“E-eh?”

“You haven’t answered their calls in three months. They’re worried about you, Teruki. I’m worried about you.”

“Ah w-well,” stuttered Teru as he clasped his hands together, trying to avoid eye contact. “I’ve just been forgetful lately! That’s all!”

“She was crying you know.”

Teru went pale. His chest was on fire.

“Your mother,” started Midori, “She would give you the stars if she could. She loves you so much. But these are very important years of your life, and she’s missing them. Please, Teruki. I hate seeing my little sister like this.”

Teru’s forehead went numb. Everything under his tracksuit was burning.

“I…” Teru had to say something. Anything. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. I’m sorry too. If you ever need anyone to talk to, you know where to find me!”

Midori waved goodbye and walked down the stairs. And for a minute, Teru forgot how to breathe. He forgot how to move.

Teru lost his appetite.

#shark writes #a kick in the teeth is good for some #riteru #mp100 fic #alright time to edit the other posts and then try to go offline for a bit

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