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lionheartkrbkzine · 4 years ago

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Lionheart’s Interactive KiriBaku Twitter Thread

Pro Heroes, Bed-Sharing, Fake Dating, Quirk Accident

Rating: T (for swearing & canon-typical violence)

At the end of each Twitter update was an overnight poll where our followers got to decide the direction of the plot or details about story elements!

Feel free to reply with your thoughts, predictions, or desires, and Head Mod ET and Social Media Mod Belle will do our best to incorporate your ideas! This is a thank you and a way for us all to collaborate together until application responses are sent out on April 5th.

🧡❤️💥⚙️💥❤️🧡

Three buildings were on fire, and it wasn’t Bakugou’s fault.

Blackened smokestacks billowed above the Tokyo cityscape as he and Kirishima raced toward the scene. Bakugou took to the skies while his partner swerved between sedans and work trucks parked bumper-to-bumper on the roadway. Bakugou’s boots skid on the rough gravel of rooftops as he blasted from one to the next, his scorching propellant warping the air behind him, leaving trails of Schlieren lines in his wake.

He crouched on the edge of a four-story building above the battle, glimpses of a hero battle raging beneath the haze of ash and concrete dust. Heroes with water-based quirks tried and failed to mitigate the damage of six gangly beams of red-hot light.

“Riot, you got eyes?” he asked into his earpiece.

“Not directly on the prize, but I’m getting intel now! Are you seeing how the beams flicker in and out?”

“Yeah. Probably low level of quirk control or erratic mentality. Or both.”

“The team leader on the ground says the villain’s in a donut hole of concrete. Rubble’s piled up on all sides, so no one can get to him.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes. “Amateurs.” The villain probably got himself cornered in a pit of fallen debris and figured he could wait it out or cause enough damage to try to make a run for it. “Shock Diamond, then.”

“Now?! Finally?! Hell yeah, let's go!"

Bakugou felt the heat of the lasers as one shaved the side of his building. He sneered at the heroes doing a piss-poor job of containment and checked behind him for the extent of the damage. A singed line gouged into the wall of a parking garage, but it stopped with a blunted tip before it speared the next building. The lasers didn’t seem to work like Aoyama’s — they could only extend so far.

Not made out of light, then. Kiri will be fine.

Not that he was worried about his partner. Kirishima could handle himself.

Even if Bakugou did pack the idiot a lunch every day and nudge him to go to bed when he fell asleep on the couch. And bought him cold medicine when he stayed out late walking Mirko’s seventy-eight-year-old receptionist home on dark, rainy nights. And bleached and dyed his roots when they started growing out.

But he wasn’t worried. The fact that the beams must be a form of slow-moving energy just gave them a tactical advantage. It had nothing to do with the fact that Kirishima’s hardening was more sensitive to concentrated light attacks yet the hero would bulldoze his way in front of them anyway.

The idiot’s voice rang through Bakugou’s earpiece. “Greenlight, Dynamight!”

“No matter how many times you say it, the rhyme doesn’t get any catchier.” Like a swimmer, he gripped the edge of the roof, rose halfway from his crouch, and dove into the pool of ash and smoke head-first.

Catching the current mid-air, he soared closer to where Kirishima was probably charging into the fray. Bakugou used the familiar shock of red hair as his signal and dropped feet-first, sending down a counterblast to stick the landing.

As Dynamight set himself up directly behind Red Riot, they charged the villain in a single-file line.

Without missing a beat, Kirishima extended his arms behind him at the same time Bakugou pushed his chest into the other man’s back. Kirishima’s arms locked onto Bakugou’s sides.

Bakugou tucked his chin, extended his hands behind him, and sent out a blinding explosion.

They rocketed forward — an unbreakable wall and a ballistic force. The perfect offense and defense. Explosion and Hardening.

Dynamight and Red Riot: Shock Diamond.

As they smashed through the rubble, the devastating strength of Red Riot’s quirk wracked through Bakugou’s body, but Kirishima held him tightly against his back. The shock waves cleared from Bakugou’s spine, and he jumped into the rapidly-clearing fog of smoke and dust.

His eyes widened. He whipped his head from side to side. He stopped, listened.

The pit was empty.

Meeting his partner’s eyes, Bakugou could only think of one thing to say. “What the fuck?!”

But Red Riot was similarly dumbfounded, his brows furrowed and jaw hanging slack, glancing around the center of the crater.

Bakugou kicked at a fallen pebble, its mere presence offensive in the heat of his frustration.

“Dynamight! Red Riot!” An aged hero with a sky blue costume ran toward them, waving his arms in ridiculous circles and spraying arcs of water through the air. “Good work out there!”

“We didn’t do shit! We just busted through a wall!”

"What Bakugou means to say is 'thank you', sir!”

“Well, the guy’s a problem for tomorrow’s heroes now. I’ve sent a team to scout the perimeter, and the police have his mugshot and quirk info. Another group is putting out the last of the fires. We’re lucky it’s a weekend — no one in those office buildings meant no casualties.” The older hero jiggled and sloshed as he rested his hands on his service belt, the edges of his existence just barely see-through as his costume molded to his mutation quirk. “For now, we need you two to handle some of the media coverage while we start to get a section of road opened back up.”

“No problem! Leave it to us!”

Flubber strode off, his boots leaving wet footprints on the asphalt.

Bakugou turned to his partner. “No.”

"Hey— where are you going?! You can't just leave the press to me all the time!"

Huffing, Bakugou slipped through an unblocked alleyway, brushing concrete crumbs off his shoulders as he took deep breaths. Normally he would feel some semblance of guilt about leaving a crime scene or abandoning Kirishima to fend off the harpies on his own, but the villain did escape. Bakugou might as well join the search of the perimeter.

A sharp scream had his feet slapping the pavement before his brain caught up.

Rounding the corner of an office park, the street opened up to allow for a municipal park one block long and one wide. Amidst swing sets and jungle gyms stood a proud maple tree. In one of its branches clung a girl no more than six years old.

Below her, a group of parents huddled in a crescent moon around the trunk, some gawking, some enjoying the entertainment, and others consoling one woman in the center of it all. Bakugou made a beeline for her.

She jumped at the hulking form of a grenade-adorned hero. He never tried very hard to work on his public image.

“Oh, Dynamight.” The whites of the woman’s eyes gaped in surprise, and she looked back and forth between the imposing hero and the girl high up in the tree. “She just— She feels more secure when she’s up high, and she got scared by all the noise and the lights, so she climbed into the tree, but now she can’t get back down and she’s too high for me to reach her, and I can’t climb up—”

“Stop.” The woman snapped her teeth closed with a click. “I’ll get her down.”

She didn’t look especially reassured. Shit. What would Kirishima do? Probably flash a smile and bang his fists together or some other cute-ass Kirishima-ism. Bakugou gave her a closed-mouth smile and a stiff pat on the shoulder instead. That’ll do.

Grasping a branch with one hand and placing the flat of his boot on the trunk, he hoisted himself into the tree. He climbed higher and higher, wary of the thinning branches. When he couldn’t fit on the remaining limbs, he lifted his arms out for the girl.

“C’mon, I’ll take you back to your mom.” His voice was soft, low, and practiced. The girl eyed him warily, but after catching a glimpse of her mom below, shuffled into Bakugou’s hold. “Good job. Just hold on to me like you did to the branch, okay?”

She nodded against his shoulder, and he began his climb back down.

“What’s your name?”

“Matatabi,” she mumbled.

“What were you doin’ that high up?”

“Wanted to catch it.”

He frowned, wondering what it was, but they had reached the bottom and he had reached his patience quota for the day. Especially when the girl threw a fit in his arms, hissing and wiggling, and pushing and scratching at him. “Oi!” He dropped her, and she scurried to her mom, leaving him with whiplash and three welts on his bicep.

“Oh. Oh, dear.” The mother looked like she was about to confess to murder. Great. “Did she scratch you?”

No shit. “Yes, but it’s completely understandable.”

“Ah, awe, thank you—” at least he got a smile out of that one “—but, um, there may be a bit of an issue?” Of course there is. “She seems to activate her quirk when she scratches or bites.” She grimaced, floundering for her next words.

He took a deep breath. It wasn’t the kid’s fault. “It’s fine. What should I expect with the effects?”

“Um. Cat?”

He blinked. “Cat?”

She nodded. “Cat.”

“Dynamight!”

They both looked up then to Red Riot’s jogging figure, dust and cement billowing behind his ass cape.

“Everything alri-oh.” Kirishima was staring somewhere above Bakugou’s forehead, his mouth formed in the perfect ‘O’ shape.

“What are you looking at?!”

“Ears.”

Bakugou’s stomach fell into his butt. “What?”

“Bro… ears. You have… ears.”

“No.”

“Dude they look so soft.” Slow hands lifted higher and higher, above Bakugou’s face up to the top of his head. “Can I just—”

Bakugou slapped his hands away. “Don’t you dare,” he hissed.

Kirishima chortled— chortled! — and turned to the mother of the tree climbing, cat nabbing daughter.

Bakugou watched the exchange with clenched fists.

“I’m so sorry!” She bowed low, almost tipping her kid onto the ground. “Is she in trouble?”

“No, no!” Kirishima smiled at them. They seeped into it like a warm blanket on a cold day. “We’ll just get your contact information in case we have any further questions about the quirk—”

A sharp pain stung both of Bakugou’s palms. He hissed and checked his hands, tuning out the rest of Kirishima’s mediation.

Claws. He had ears and claws.

Well, at least he had another weapon now — that was pretty cool, actually. As soon as the thought passed through his head, the claws retracted into his nail beds, leaving behind his normal, blunt nails.

He felt his ears droop to the side of his head.

“So… do you want to head back to the agency?”

He looked up at his partner, giving him his best baleful glare with the ears and all. Kirishima just snorted. “There’s no way in Hell I’m going back there like this.”

“Awe, but you could be our new office mascot.” He reached forward to pet Bakugou’s ear again. He was unsuccessful. “Alright, alright,” he laughed, pulling out his phone, “let’s call Mirko and get our next orders, then.” The ringer blasted loud and clear, Kirishima holding his phone in selfie-mode.

“You little shit! She doesn’t need to see!”

They played a game of impromptu tag until their boss picked up. She, of course, immediately burst into guffaws of laughter.

Bakugou was so ready for today to be over.

“Hey, boss! What, uh— What do you suggest we do here with uh, Cat...kugou?”

“I’ll kill you,” he whispered.

“Hell if I know, I’ve never needed flea prevention.” Bakugou balked. “Take him to the vet, I guess!”

“Yessir!” Kirishima hung up before Bakugou could even process the words that just came out of his boss’s mouth.

“I am not—” he huffed “—going—” huff “—to the fucking VET!”

🧡❤️💥⚙️💥❤️🧡

If All Might himself had told Bakugou that hero life would involve sitting on a metal exam table in a veterinarian’s office, he wouldn’t believe a word of it. Not because it was impossible. Just because Bakugou would never get himself into that kind of situation.

He craned his neck back, glaring at his reflection in the operating mirror hanging from the ceiling. Two ash blond ears twitched back at him.

He sighed, crossing his arms and adjusting his seat on the hard metal. If I grow a tail, I’m gonna scream.

After what felt like hours of waiting, twitching, and reading pamphlets about “What to do if you have a fat cat,” the vet finally strode through the door, Kirishima hot on her heels.

She turned, frowning. “Oh, I’m so sorry — I know you’re hero partners, but technically the exam room is family only."

Bakugou’s eyes flicked to Kirishima. His partner met his desperate glare head-on.

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unpredictably-raichu · 6 years ago

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An ask blog needs asks to generate content but can't do that without asks... so how would a new (or recently revived) ask blog get the people's attention?

Oh, oh, yes! Advice time! :D I’ve been in the ask community for a little while now, so here are some things I’ve gathered over time for when you’re getting started (I’ll be assuming yours is a Pokémon ask blog, since you’re asking this to one).

Keep in mind this is long af and a bit detailed (though it’s only the first part that is long). If you’re interested in a in-detail guide, click ‘read more’ (which I would be very thankful for, I wrote all this shit for you after all, fam).

Here’s a little summarized version as a TL;DR for everyone else:

#1: keep your blog clean. If it’s about Pokémon, it’s about Pokémon; if it’s about Sonic, it’s about Sonic; if it’s about trees, it’s about goddamn trees, so no rebloging random puppy pictures or funny videos here, leave that for your personal blog, not your ask blog. Also try to keep all the out of character crap to a minimum.

#2: Have reference pages for your characters available. That’s actually a minimum requirement. An ask hints page would be useful too, but that’s optional.

#3: Have a tagging system to make everything easier to navigate.

#4 [OPTIONAL]: Give your blog a theme. Make it pretty, make it yours, and for the love of God, deactivate the god damn infinite scrolling.

#5: Tags are your friends. Tag your first post with “signal boost”, “first post”, and/or “intro post”. Tag every Pokémon that appears in your posts, including that one barely visible Caterpie in the background. Tag all your posts as “Pokémon ask blog” or “Pokeaskblog”. Tag. Tag everything. Tags are your friends if you want to be seen. Tags. Tags are. Your. Friends.

#6: Interact with other blogs. Like crazy. You are sure to be noticed when you’re freaking everywhere. Don’t forget to be nice tho. And don’t bully or harass people, for fuck’s sake.

#7: Take a chair, sit over there, get comfortable and be Patient. Like really freaking patient. Wait for months if necessary, but asks will come eventually.

#8: Have fun. That’s the whole point. Talk to people, make some shitposts, engage in silliness, and draw those magical pocket monsters that can shoot lasers out of their asses and we all love. It’s fun.

And that’s it. There’s not much else I can say, so I hope this is helpful! :D

Here’s the detailed thing:

Step #1: Organize your blog

It doesn’t seem like something that important, but believe me, it really is. Nothing turns me away from a blog faster than it being messy af and full of random, unrelated stuff. In order to keep your blog all tidy and pretty you can:

a) Refrain from reblogging anything unrelated. (If your blog is a sideblog, skip this one): You can reblog that video of that one adorable otter in your personal blog, but if your ask blog is about, say, Pokémon, don’t reblog anything that isn’t Pokémon related. If you want to go even further than that, only reblog things that are directly related to your blog, like mentions, fanart, or rp responses, instead of some random Squirtle GIF.

b) Have info pages/references of your characters available: By this I mean having specific pages containing information about your characters, including a visual reference, if possible. Reference pages are very important, since they allow people to quickly get to know a character and make interaction easier. They can contain information as simple and basic as their name, species, moves, etc. to more elaborated things, like occupation (if they have one), personality, or a brief summary of their past story/origin (unless you want that to be revealed as the story progresses in your blog or through an ask).

If you don’t know how to make a page, >here’s an easy tutorial.

b.2) Having an “ask hints” helps a lot when trying to receive asks, since it’ll help people who want to interact but aren’t sure of what they should ask. You can have general hints or individual hints for all the characters.

c) Have a tagging system: Having your posts clearly labeled makes it a lot easier for anyone who wanters through your blog to find the specific content they’re looking for. Here are three basic tags that make your blog easier to look through:

#OOC: “out of character”, for everything happening, well, out of character. Maybe an announcement, a shitpost, a question directed a the mod, etc. Try to keep ooc things to a minimum.

#IC: “In character”, exactly what it says on the tin. Use this for answered asks towards the characters, plot posts, rp interactions and responses, ect.

#[Character’ name]: Tag the characters that appear in a post, for anyone who wants to look through asks with one specific character in them.

Tags help a lot for getting your blog noticed. We will talk more about this ahead.

d) [OPTIONAL] Have a nice theme: This isn’t obligatory, but giving your blog a theme will make it look better and more ‘professional’. Here are some blogs that give really good, free themes/codes for Tumblr:

https://glenthemes.tumblr.com/

https://yukoki.tumblr.com/

https://zuvia.tumblr.com/thms

https://strawberryjeon.tumblr.com/tagged/themes

https://felinum.tumblr.com/tagged/theme

http://hellolittlered.org/themes/type/tumblr/

https://magnusthemes.tumblr.com/mythemes

http://dianthus-s.tumblr.com/themes

https://raiidens.tumblr.com/tagged/themesbyraiidens

https://yeolithm.com/portfolio

These are just some, but there are many, many others out there. Look for a theme that fits your tastes or your blog’s atmosphere, and customize it! You can even use this blog’s theme! However, make sure to not use overly saturated colors that make it painful to look at, it- kind of defeats the point. You can Google ‘color palletes’ if you need help with that.

NOTE: If you don’t know how to install a Tumblr theme, >here’s a simple tutorial

NOTE#2: Sometimes Tumblr might not let you install a specific theme and shows you an error message that says that it can’t be installed because it is “making a reference to non- https directions” or something like that, which didn’t use to happen before. >Here’s a tutorial on how to fix it, it’s quite simple, actually.

NOTE#3: For an ask/rp blog, I recommend a theme with one column, and that shows tags and captions, like the one in this blog.

If you’ve got any question about installing or customizing a theme, you can ask me, and I’ll see how I can help!

Step #2: Tags help you to be found

Be sure to use tags in your favor. Here are some things that have helped me a lot:

a) If you’re starting a Pokémon blog, tag every Pokémon that appears in your posts; that way, people looking through the tag of that specific Pokémon will be able to see your posts.

b) Again, if it’s a Pokémon blog, tag your posts as “Pokémon ask blog” or “Pokeaskblog” (or both), people looking for pokeaskblogs to follow usually look though these tags regularly.

c) Tag your first post/posts or intro as “Signal boost” and “First post”. There are blogs in the Pokémon community that look for posts tagged like this and reblog them to give them a ‘boost’, which helps a lot when you want to be seen. I’m not sure how many of these are still active, though, but you won’t lose anything from trying.

Step #3: Interact with other blogs like a madman

Send lots of asks! Interact with other blogs! Follow even more blogs! Send fanart and nice messages! Reblog/Like those posts of people looking for new blogs to follow! Some people will find you through someone else’s answered ask, some people will notice you’re following and will check you out, some people will see you in a like or a reblog, and overall there are higher chances of being seen when you are everywhere and interact with everyone (also, it’s really fun to just interact with other nice people over here).

Just make sure to be nice.

Step #4: Be patient. P a t i e n t. I’m serious.

If you think you’ll get lots of followers in a matter of a couple days then start forgetting about it. It took me two weeks to get my first ask at asktheweirdpichu, and a week and a half to get one here. And they were both spam. I cried. Two years later (holy heck has it really been that long?) I’ve got so many asks accumulated that I’m starting to think I should just fake my death and end my suffering (I’m joking, I love every single ask I get and get excited every time I get a new one).

It will take a while, but you’ll see that after enough time you’ll get noticed more and more, so don’t give up, you’ll get there.

Step #5: Don’t forget to have fun.

Make some friends, have some silly interactions, make some shitposts at 3 am, draw someone’s character and watch them shoot effusive love at you, enjoy your favorite blogs. That’s what all this is about.

And that is all! I hope it was useful! :D

#hornyspacesnakes #OOC #Blog tutorial #Ask blog tips #Mod #DL #answered #not raichu

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atariaction · 5 years ago

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10-Line Poker Machine

My first entry for the 2020 10-line BASIC contest is a poker machine simulator written in TurboBASIC XL for the Atari 8-bit computer. At ten 120-character lines, it qualifies for the PUR-120 category. It is based on the common “Jacks Or Better” poker machine, although I changed the payouts to make it more fun and to conserve space.

The game deals a hand of five playing cards. You can choose to “hold” any or all of the cards by pressing 1 though 5, then press any other key to replace the cards that you did not hold. (Held cards are not replaced.) It then calculates whether you’ve won, based on standard poker hands.

Here are the payouts:

royal flush +650 (real game: 1250) royal straight +500 (not in real game) straight flush +350 (real game: 250) 4 of a kind +225 (real game: 125) full house +150 (real game: 30) flush +150 (real game: 25) straight +200 (real game: 20) 3 of a kind +150 (real game: 15) 2 pair +50 (real game: 10) pair of Jacks or better +5 (real game: 10)

With all the logic for calculating poker hands, there wasn’t room for card graphics. I did make a custom character set with just one special character: a "10" for the only two-digit card. I am proud of squeezing in money though. You start with $50 in your wallet, and the game costs $5 per hand. The game remembers your wallet by poking it into unused memory ($600, the top of Page 6) then peeking it back after it re-RUNs. Because RUN clears all the variables, this uses much less program space than resetting all the variables by hand.

Here’s the code:

GR.0:POKE 752,1:REM SET UP SCREEN DIM D(9),U(53),C(13),W$(29),I$(1),H(5),F$(8),SUIT$(4),N$(13) F$="\00\CE\DB\DB\DB\DB\CE\00" B=DPEEK($600)-5:'money. minus 5 builds in the cost of the round. B=B+(45*(B<0)):'that is, IF(B<0) THEN B=50-5. 'Since there's not enough space to zero-out necessary variables if 'we were to loop to play again, and we lose all variables at re-RUN: 'we save user's money in page 6 where it's safe from BASIC. 'On first run, cross our fingers that $600 is seeded 'at 0, otherwise \_(ツ)_/ ?"$";B:? REM D - cards in shuffled order. This game only deals max 10 cards REM U - tracks whether card number in subscript has been shuffled in REM C - Counts number of each card in suit REM W$ - Win/loss text REM I$ - storage for INKEY$ REM H - tracks which of the 5 card slots are Held REM F$ - custom character ("10") REM SUIT$ - control characters for suits REM N$(13) - card name characters (A thru K) SUIT$="\00\10\60\7B":'heart club diamond spade N$="A23456789#JQK":'one-character card names. '10' replaces # 'Replace '#' with "10" character CH=(PEEK(106)-16)*256:MOVE 57344,CH,1024 MOVE ADR(F$),CH+24,8:POKE 756,CH/256 'SHUFFLE FOR X=0 TO 9:'Fill slots. Only slotting 10 cards is faster than 52. N=0 WHILE N=0:'while we haven't found a card for this slot NN=RAND(52):'which card might go in this slot? IF (U(NN)=0):'if we haven't slotted this card yet D(X)=NN:'slot now contains this card U(NN)=1:'mark card as used in a slot N=1:'move on to next card ENDIF WEND NEXT X REM FORCE CARDS FOR TESTING 'D(0)=12 'D(1)=12+13 'D(2)=13+6 'D(3)=13+13+6 'D(4)=15 FOR GO=1 TO 2:'Do the next part twice 'SHOW CARDS FOR X=0 TO 4 'Show card name, suit, and the slot number N=D(X) MOD 13+1:M=D(X) DIV 13+1:?N$(N,N);SUIT$(M,M);" \1B\7F";X+1 'D(X) MOD 13+1 is the card number 1-13 'D(X) DIV 13+1 is the suit 1-4 'This is very clever. NEXT X IF(GO=1):'Choose hold cards, first time though only WHILE QQ=0 POKE 764,255 WHILE I$="" I$=INKEY$ WEND POKE 764,255:I$="" I=ASC(I$)-49 IF(I>=0 AND I<5) H(I)=NOT H(I):'Toggle hold status for chosen slot POS.9,I+2 IF(H(I)):?"HOLD":ELSE:?" ":ENDIF ELSE QQ=1 ENDIF WEND 'Replace cards that were not held. 'Every card has one potential replacement FOR X=0 TO 4 D(X)=D(X+5*(1-H(X))) 'if held, D(X)=D(X), unchanged. if not, D(X)=D(X)+5 'or, more readably: IF(H(X)=0):D(X)=D(X+5):ENDIF NEXT X ENDIF POS.2,8*GO:'Show new cards under old cards NEXT GO 'Game is over, now see if it's a wining hand 'Count each card type in the hand F=(D(0) DIV 13)+1:'F="is there a flush?" seed with 0th card suit FOR X=0 TO 4 N=D(X) MOD 13 C(N)=C(N)+1:'C(N) is how many of that card in the hand 'T is the maximum number of similar cards we've found T=T+(C(N)-T)*(C(N)>T) 'or, more readably: IF (C(N)>T):T=C(N):ENDIF F=((D(X) DIV 13)+1=F)*F:'if suit is not the same, set F to 0. I feel clever. NEXT X 'Count pairs - how many sets of exactly 2 are in the hand? FOR X=0 TO 12 P=P+(C(X)=2) 'Or, IF (C(X)=2):P=P+1:ENDIF NEXT X 'FULL HOUSE OR 3 OF A KIND OR 4 OF A KIND IF T>2:'really this is: IF T=3 OR T=4 becasue it can't be more IF P:'If there's also a pair W$="FULL HOUSE" B=B+150 ELSE W$=STR$(T) W$(2)=" OF A KIND":'msg is 3 or 4 of a kind B=B+(T-1)*75 ENDIF ELSE:'max same cards T <= 2 IF ((C(10)=2) OR (C(11)=2) OR (C(12)=2) OR (C(0)=2)) W$="JACKS OR BETTER" B=B+5 ENDIF IF(P=2) W$="2 PAIR" B=B+50 ENDIF ENDIF C(13)=C(0):'Kludge to copy Ace to above King FOR X=0 TO 9 IF (C(X) AND C(X+1) AND C(X+2) AND C(X+3) AND C(X+4)) W$="STRAIGHT " B=B+200 IF (X=9) W$="ROYAL " B=B+250 ENDIF ENDIF NEXT X 'Print win/loss message IF(W$="" AND F=0) ?"LOSE"; ELSE ?W$; IF F ?"FLUSH"; B=B+150 ENDIF ENDIF ?:?"$";B DPOKE $600,B 'Save $ on page 6 for next round 'WAIT FOR KEYPRESS, PLAY AGAIN WHILE INKEY$="":WEND RUN

#BASIC #TurboBASIC XL #Poker #Poker Machine #atari #programming

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vs-redemption · 3 years ago

Note

*His heartbeat picks up a bit as you lean in close, looking away for a moment to calm it. When he looks back at you to find a blush blossoming on your face however, his heart is back to racing about quickly. He gives a slight cough, trying to ignore the warmth in his cheeks* “T-That makes sense. You wouldn’t be able to focus and enjoy the cherry blossoms with me while having work on the mind. Let’s have a nice day today, yeah?”

“Usually, convincing Sakusa isn’t too bad if it’s just him. If I say he’ll be with Bo or Miya, he refuses. He’ll tolerate Hinata” *He laughs only to get flustered when you call him handsome. He wants to compliment back, but he thinks each one of his ideas might be too forward. You cut off his overthinking with a hand squeeze and your smile has him smiling back*

“She’s a romantic, that girl. I know she’s eager to hear about how today goes. And aha, I’m not surprised that Sugawara-san would be a little wary of me. I don’t blame him with our team’s history and my... Not so sweet face. I have been told I look a little, angry and rough. I mean,” *He pulls a frown for a moment before looking sheepish and rubbing the back of his head*

“Also, I get intense when I’m focused during volleyball games. Intimidating, is what Kindaichi confessed” *He sighs a little, starting to feel a little too rough around someone as sweet as you. He doesn’t have time to let it fester when you chirp up about Mattsun, Makki, and the Karasuno guys. He grins*

“I think they just happened upon us. Had they known they would have followed us from the museum. Keep their distance, sure, but still pry around. Then againnnnn, that museum guy did look familiar” *He jokes and laughs at the thought of Makki in disguise just to spy on them*

“Well, I’m guessing that if Suga-san knows then the rest of the Karasuno team does? I wonder if that was what Kageyama wanted to ask me about when I saw the Adlers the day prior? He looked like he wanted to say something but hurried away to practice whenever I tried to talk. Alsoooo, I think I got a glare from a personal trainer when I stopped by for some tips. Tanaka-san is indeed protective! With someone as lovely as you, I understand them wanting to make sure you don't get your heartbroken.”

Hajime Iwaizumi

*I can tell he’s a little flustered by his cough and blush, and I feel a little bad until he squeezes my hand and assures me we’ll have a good day. I grin back at him and nod, so eager to spend this time with him. I listen to him talk about the guys he works with, trying to keep all the names straight. A few sound familiar, but I didn’t have names to put with them.*

Not so sweet face? *I giggle a little at his description of himself but feel guilty when I see him frown.* Well, for what it’s worth… I really like your face. It’s strong and handsome and one of the reasons I was compelled to kiss you so much last time. *I pray I’m not being too bold, but it was sad to me that he didn’t understand how attractive he was.*

Kindaichi? *I tilt my head, trying to recall who that was. I’d never seen Seijoh’s team, but I’d heard my Karasuno friends complain about them.* Is that the onion guy? *I shake my head* I wouldn’t be surprised if word has spread to Tobio and Tanaka. Guys can gossip just as bad as girls sometimes. I hope Tanaka wasn’t rude to you. He can make some not so sweet faces himself.

*I get bashful when he says I’m lovely and duck my head down for a moment to control my blush. Just him mentioning heartbreak sobers me though. We’d hardly begun the second date and the thought of him deciding that this wasn’t right for him already felt painful. I shake my head to get rid of that thought.* What did your friends think when you told them about me? I hope Tooru wasn’t too obnoxious. Surprisingly, he didn’t gloat too much when I talked to him.

(Thank you mod! I love how he and I went back to being a little awkward again. Can't wait until we warm back up and get cuddling under the cherry blossoms!)

#🏋️ iwa anon #BestAnonSquad #Iwa anon #🌸🌸🌸#i love this 🥺#we can talk more about our friends now #idk I just love him #thank you mod 💖💖💗💖

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aziraphales-library · 2 years ago

Note

Hello, i was curious if you have any doctor who crossover fics? I know someone asked specifically for the 10th doctor with rose once but this doesnt have to have any specific doctor or companion, any are good :)

Hi. We have a couple of posts where we rec Doctor Who crossover fics on our #doctor who tag. Here are some more...

Come and Meet Us by his_infinitevariety (G)

Donna notices the strange pair as soon as they enter the cafe, but she can't quite figure out why the tall redhead looks so familiar.

Your Local Disaster Time Lord by notjodieyet (G)

Aziraphale and Crowley are going on honeymoon, and they need somebody to look after the shop. So they ask the Doctor, your local disaster Time Lord. Aziraphale gives very clear instructions, namely: do not sell any books.

But the Doctor can't *not* give people what they're looking for.

AKA, the Doctor had *one job.*

Seeing Double by Raphaela_Crowley (T)

The meta-crisis Doctor and Rose decide to take a little family Holiday in Rose's home dimension, riding in on a time machine that looks remarkably like a 1926 Bentley.

Aziraphale gets into the wrong car and the unsuspecting doctor is mistaken by the angel for Crowley (who overslept and forgot to pick him up).

Then, after a disturbing message is left on his ansaphone, Crowley rushes out to Soho and gets mistaken for the meta-crisis Doctor by a less than patient Rose (flanked by four screaming blonde children).

One of them, Rose or Aziraphale, has got to figure out they've snagged the wrong person sooner or later, right?

Right.

But not before some wackiness ensues at the British Museum.

A Demon and a Doctor by keinekatze132 (G)

A doctor and a strangely similar looking demon wake up in each other’s places. With the help of their friends they try to get back to their own realities.

Prophecies and Parallels by covert_quill (T)

Aziraphale and Crowley come across an unexpected side effect from their swap. Things only get more complicated when the Doctor saunters in and starts asking one too many questions. Aliens invade, two supernatural beings and one Time Lord find themselves running for their lives, and the Doctor third wheels spectacularly. No matter what universe you’re in, the world always needs a bit of saving. ____

Crowley paused. “An appointment? You scheduled something during Armageddon, er, Armagedidn’t?”

“Well, not exactly,” Aziraphale said. “You see, this man called at the shop a few weeks ago and said he’d be in today. He was interested in books on prophecy, as a matter of fact.”

“Who even is this person?”

“I’m not quite sure. He did seem rather nice, though.”

“What’s his name?”

Aziraphale hesitated. “Ah. That part was a little strange. He called himself ‘The Doctor.’ ”

“What kind of stupid name is that?” Crowley said, making a face. “And Doctor of what?”

“He says of everything,” Aziraphale said excitedly.

What What If God Was One of Us? by elisi (G)

What if… the Thirteenth Doctor was the God of Good Omens?

(waits)

I mean. How could I not write it?

Also there are not enough fics that take God’s POV and motivations into account. Especially when God is as daft as a brush.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #doctor who #crossover #mod d

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imagineclaireandjamie · 7 years ago

Text

A Hundred Lesser Faces: (Seven)

Notes from Mod Bonnie

This story stems from the premise: what if Voyager!Claire had gone first to Lallybroch instead of directly to the print shop in Edinburgh?

Links to past installments: (One) (Two) (Three) (Four) (Five) (Six)

Many a red-headed man I’d passed on the long road from Lallybroch. Every single time, my stupid, desperate heart had leapt with joy; and every time, I cursed myself for the fool that I was. For Christ’s SAKE, why the bloody hell should he be on the road from Inverness, Beauchamp? Jamie Fraser is south, in Edinburgh, with his wife. With his daughters. Happy. So, pull yourself together.

So deep had been my longing, though, that my traitorous eyes had tried over and over to convince me that it might be, it MIGHT be this time! (even when the actual travelers hadn’t looked remotely like Jamie). Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, one had been a very tall boy no more than twelve, and I still had had to see his face from ten feet before I would allow my heart to quiet. Not him. Not him.

Blind hope, indeed.

But this time, as I whirled and fell on the hillside, heart exploding, in a single moment, I was certain. Even from a great distance, even two decades later, even not yet able to see his face through the snow-flecked gloom, even had he not been screaming my name, yes, I’d know the shape of that man anywhere. It was Jamie, tearing toward me on horseback, riding like the hounds of hell were at his heels. And the SIGHT of him? A relief and a love smashed through me, so deep and so visceral that I staggered downward; not running, not even making my way down the hill; just slipping, pulled toward his orbit.

Alive. I had known for months, believed, had confirmation from Jenny herself, and yet the proof was now there before my eyes. Not under a stone on Culloden Moor; that nightmare was now banished forever. Jamie Fraser was ALIVE.

I saw him kick hard, spurring the horse to an even more astonishing pace—how loudly must he have been screaming that I had been able to hear him from so far away?—and found myself bursting out with joyous laughter at the way his shirt flapped like a sail in the wind. Nothing changed, then, if the ridiculous man had ridden without a coat or a cloak against the wind and the sn—

Wife.

No.

Daughters.

Please....please, no.

This changes absolutely nothing, Beauchamp. This ends with you going through those stones, sooner or later. Make it sooner.

But he came for me—Jamie came! He’s HERE.

He’s happy. He may have come, but he’s happy. Don’t make him suffer by forcing this impossible choice.

Just let me say goodbye.

Please.

Let me hold him, just for —

Beauchamp:

Can you honestly do what needs to be done if you have to look him in the eye and pull yourself out of his arms?

“CLAIRE!—What are ye—? S T O P !”

I was running up the hill, stumbling and tripping, going as fast as I could. I couldn’t stop. If I looked at him—If I touched him...

Everything seemed to slow to single frames, impressions:

The slow shrill cry of my breaths,

the grass suddenly inches from my nose as I staggered low over a boulder.

Hoofbeats, closer, louder.

I’m running for my life through quicksand,

every footfall sinking me deeper, and slower, as the monster gets closer and closer and—

A fierce whinny, a curse.

A voice— my voice—screaming. “STAY AWAY!”

Boots hitting the ground,

“CLAIRE, STOP!”

Running, both of us running,

and I couldn’t stop.

I must not st—

Time smashed into its normal pace again as I fell, mere yards from the crest of the hill, and cried out in pain.

“CLAIRE!” God, he was so close, pounding up the hill behind me, no more than thirty—

“Don’t!” I shouted as I scrambled to my feet.

“CLAI—”

“DO—NOT—TOUCH—ME!” I screamed it over my shoulder with all the violence I possessed, a feral beast, cornered and ready to go for the throat as it went down.

Silence fell on the faerie hill. Stillness, and absolute silence.

When human thought returned, I was on my feet at the very top of the hill, the stones screaming their evil song behind me. My body was slung sideways, both arms raised in defense; my head hung at an improbable angle so as to look nowhere, see nothing: not the stones, not him. It was elemental in my body, in that moment: the absolute imperative not to look at him. If I could keep from looking, keep from getting trapped in those eyes, everything would be alright.

It was a ridiculous logic, I knew; somewhere in the recesses of my consciousness, that was obvious. Jamie Fraser was HERE. He wouldn’t simply let me walk away unacknowledged; but such was the depth of my panic and hysteria that I couldn’t move. I was bare millimeters from completely falling apart, abandoning all my noble resolve, and flinging myself into his arms, begging him to choose me — take me — and damn the fucking consequences.

But it still wouldn’t change a bloody thing, the rational half of my mind whimpered. He would still be married. He would still have his children. We still could not be together, or at least not under any circumstances that honor would permit. I still could not force him to make that choice.

Hold yourself together, Beauchamp. No tears, remember? You said you could do the same for him; could be calm and sure for him. Now, do it. Stand strong.

“....Mo nighean donn?”

That flower-stem snap.

That voice—Jamie’s sweet, clear voice; my very heart speaking aloud, quietly, but with every ounce of pain and longing that I felt in my own breast.

“Look at me, mo nighean donn.”

Stand. strong.

My mouth was dry and my entire body was shaking, each word an effort. “— Can't—”

A sudden, vicious snarl. “LOOK at me!”

I half-growled, half screamed, “I—CANT!”

Desperate. So desperate, that ‘can’t’. I was shaking. Going into shock, in fact. Could feel the darkness and the manic energy and the absolute inability to retrieve words or actions closing—

“Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp.”

He said it like he always said his own name: low and distinct, with honor in every syllable.

BE STRONG.

“I have ridden,” he said, in a voice so quiet and deep and measured, “night and day for nigh on a week, terrified that—terrified th—*Please,*” His calm vanished and the words were tumbling out of him in a frantic rush. “Please, for the love ye bear me, for the love that brought ye to find me: TURN.”

STAND.

God, but I can’t stand.

“By everything that is holy...” A whispered moan. “Let me see your face, mo ghraidh.”

....and damn my weak, foolish heart, I turned. I looked.

Day and night for a week, he’d said, and I believed it. Even at a distance of twenty feet down the hill, I could see just how bloodshot his eyes were, wide and wild. He was pale, underneath the red of wind and exertion, paler than I remembered. That glorious hair was now worn long. If it had been tied back, the ride and the wind had undone it. It was wild and tangled, whipping about his face, his chin covered in stubble that nearly amounted to a beard. His clothes—nothing but shirt, breeks and boots— were filthy and torn and splattered with mud. He looked, quite simply, dead on his feet.

He was the most beautiful sight I'd ever beheld.

God, you’re so like her, I wanted to moan. I’d known it, had had my heart broken every day to see the proof of him in our daughter, and yet seeing him now before me, I was absolutely run through to find her broad, good-humored face there, the same dark blue eyes aslant the high, flat cheekbones and wide mouth.

He’d aged, of course, as had I. The lines around eyes and mouth were deeper, the skin more weathered and coarse, but it was still him. His nose had been broken, at some point. It made him look fiercer, though perhaps that was simply fatigue and the vast waves of emotion obviously rushing through him, through us both.

Jamie had staggered back a pace or two back as he stared up at me, nearly toppling down the steep incline. “Jesus....Christ...” he whispered. The back of his hand was pressed to his mouth as though to stifle a cry, “You’re....You....” The hand became a fist and he shook his head as a gasping smile broke from him. “Claire—God, Claire, mo chridhe!” He moved, about to sprint up the hill.

I jumped backward. Raised my arms against him. No.

Hurt. Betrayal. Pain. It was as though I had shot him at point-blank range...And something deeper shone beneath it all: some blazing intensity I couldn’t quite identify. He looked as though he would bleed out there on the spot, from this newest wound.

So will I, my love.

But he heeded me, standing completely still. His hands shook, half-raised before him. He simply didn't know what to do with them—I knew because I didn’t know what to do with mine. His mouth worked as he tried to speak, to ask, to say something, but failing. Those eyes held everything, though. Pleading.

Silence on the hill. Silence and screaming.

“You—survived,” I managed at last, weakly, with something like a laugh.

“Aye—” He exhaled in a huge rush, clearly grateful that I'd broken the stalemate. “It was a verra close thing.” He spoke fast and frantically, babbling, even, as though terrified to let silence fall again. “I should have died in the battle, or from the firing squads after, or of my wounds festering, but— Aye, I—I was—spared.”

“Thank God,” I whispered, and his eyes lit with such hope and relief that I could have cut my bloody tongue out at the root.

STOP this instant, Beauchamp. Nothing has changed.

Jamie was the one to break the silence, this time. “Your letter,” he gasped out.

“You read it, then?” A stupid thing to say. He’d obviously read it, but I clung to conversation just as he had. The stupid words were something, something to keep from falling off the edge of this insanity. “When?”

“By providence, I arrived at Lallybroch the same day you’d left, and....Oh, God, CLAIRE....”

Oh, God, Jamie.

Each time my name left him, it seemed to tear a piece out of both of us. I could only look down at him, waiting.

“When I saw your hand on that letter,” he said, voice shaking uncontrollably, “the print of your ring in the wax, I ...”

He shook his head, at a loss, mouthing it over and over. I...I....

Through the snow, though darkness was creeping steadily around us, I could see the first tear sliding down his cheek. “....I felt as though I were dying.”

So did I. So do I.

“To know you’d survived—that you’d come back, and—and,” his eyes lit up. “Brianna.”

From his lips, our daughter’s name sounded like strange music from another world, and I wanted to listen to it forever.

“It would have been enough—more than enough—only to ken our bairn had lived, that the both of ye had lived and been cared for, but to....Claire, I simply couldna believe my eyes.” He shook his head, violently. “To see...to SEE the lass...our daughter.” Jamie released his sobbing breath and closed his eyes, holding out his hands before him, tears streamed down his cheeks. “Her entire life, there before me... and she so happy and so braw and bonny and—God, it tore out my beating heart.” He heaved a breath and smiled up at me, beaming with love and joy, though it was difficult for him to get out the words. “She’s—more wonderful than I ever could have imagined, mo ghraidh....Our Brianna.”

I forced a smile and choked down a sob. “I’m so honored,” I whispered, so haltingly, so carefully, so, so carefully, “to have been able—to bring her to you, in some way.”

My love.

My own love.

Nothing has changed.

I know.

I took a step, two steps, backward toward the stones. This was the part where I was to be strong.

Jamie’s eyes snapped into laser-focus, a predator’s, and that unknown intensity I’d seen earlier flamed now into life. It was anger.

“Why would ye just GO?” His voice was still wretched with pain but he was snarling, stammering, growling in mounting fury. “Ye—ye came for me and—Ye came all the way from your time through the stones and then meant to go back and leave forever wi’out even—Damn ye, woman, ye didna even—If I hadna come just in time—Foolish—wretched, FOOLISH—” He hurled the demand toward me with his entire body. “WHY?”

“You *know* why.” It was all but a moan.

He growled again. “Ye dinna ken —”

“I know that you’re married,” I got out, moving sideways around the rim of the hill, countering his advance. “I know you have children. Jenny told me everything—how hap—”

“No, Claire, ye dinna understand!” Something had shifted in his eyes — relief? — and he was once again still, though scarcely fifteen feet in front of me down the hill. “Jenny lied. She lied, Claire,” he insisted, the words falling out of him. “She lied and made ye think I was—”

“You're not — ??”

Jenny lied! Thank the bloody stars above, the horrible bitch LIED!!! Jesus H—

My smile broke through like the dawn, a blaze of glorious, raging happiness as I gasped out, “Then, you’re not married?”

And I watched as that hope shriveled and vanished to dust. His eyes dropped to the ground. “I am marrit.”

I swayed, eyes closed. I couldn’t bear this any longer, couldn’t take this agony raging in my heart, both the emotional and the physical heart. I felt light-headed, felt pain in my limbs. I couldn’t be strong. I couldn’t.

Just a little while longer. Say your farewell, and be gone. It will be alright, Beauchamp.

“Then she didn’t lie,” I said, simply, my throat burning with the effort not to wail. “You have a wife and two beautiful daughters.” I caught my breath and opened my eyes, managing to smile, though I was so very near the brink. “I meant what I wrote in the letter. Every single word. I want you to be happy—and I’m glad that you are. I’m glad that you have a family and that they have made you happy.”

His brows were drawn up, making him look absolutely crazed. He mouthed the word like he’d never heard it before. Happy?

“But I—” Somehow, I kept up the smile as I whispered through wooden lips and burning throat and the tears. “—but it means—that I have—to go, now— before—”

“NO,” he snarled, springing with sudden force. I staggered still further away around the hill as he bellowed, “You’ll NOT—”

“BE STILL!” I bellowed back.

And once again, he heeded me.

“For God’s fucking SAKE, you bloody — Scot!” I shouted down at him, suddenly just as furious as he. “Have you NO notion of what — Don’t you understand? I’m giving you up! I’m letting you go!” I gestured wildly behind me to the stones, choking on my tears. “I’m leaving so you don’t have to choose! Do you think I’m so arrogant as to believe I’m worth upending your happy—”

“DAMN YOU, woman, I havena been HAPPY in TWENTY YEARS!”

Silence on the faerie hill. Silence and screaming.

When he spoke again, it was once more in that quiet, aching whisper.

“Jenny led ye to believe otherwise and may she be damned for it.” He took a step forward, pointing. “But in that letter, ye renewed a promise to me; and I’ll give ye the same, now.” Another step.

I stepped back.

He surrendered, went to his knees, hands clenched in the posture of oath-taking. “No lies, Claire.” His eyes blazed into mine. “Nor secrets. Not ever. Not now. I swear it on Brianna’s life.”

God, my heart...

“Will ye hear what I have to tell?”

...it simply couldn’t take this.

But I nodded.

“I left Laoghaire more than a year past.”

“LAOGHAIRE?!?”

The outburst was so violent, so loud and so shrill in the wake of my long silence, that it startled us both. Jamie had to put a hand out to steady himself as he jumped, and the acute panic of a fresh hell showed across his face. “She—Jenny didna—?”

“No, she BLOODY well DIDN’T!”

“Aye, well—ah ...ehm...Claire?”

He was peering leerily up at me, and little wonder, for I was laughing—actually, CACKLING with laughter, hands clutched to my belly as I doubled over with it.

“No, Jenny didn’t tell me who,” I sighed, when I had calmed down (marginally). “The only detail your darling sister deigned to divulge about your wife—”

Of all people. Of ALL the marriageable women in all the bleeding Highlands. He had married —had had children with—loved—

All levity, all scorn dropped out of me, and my voice cracked, a whispering shell. “—was that you were happier with her than she’d ever seen you....And that you had two little girls that call you Da.”

“But they’re not mine, Claire. They’re not mine,” Jamie said again more urgently as I stared. He gritted his teeth. “And I shall wring my sister’s neck for a wicked liar when next I see her, for she kens fine that I’ve not had ninety-nine happy minutes in that marriage since it began.”

I was so cold. Frozen, in every cell.

“Two years ago, we wed,” he began carefully. “She was marrit before, twice, and found herself a widow wi’ two bairns to feed just as I was newly come back from England.”

His words were running together, a bit. There was so much warring within him, so much he clearly wished to say, but cold and fatigue and emotion were taking their devastating toll.

“I’m fond of her lassies—Marsali and Joan. They're aged fifteen and twelve and have had a cruel, rough way of it, in lives so short. Wi’ all that they’ve endured, I was glad—honored, even— for them to take me into their hearts as a father, but hear me, Claire.” He held my eye. “I've shared scarce more wi’ them than what loving gentleness I could offer, and a scant few months of meals shared ‘round the same table. No more.” He shook his head with a sound of shame and regret. “Christ, I sound an unfeeling wretch. I do care for them, I do.”

But they weren’t born of his love; nor had he had a hand in raising them.

“Their mother...She...”

She.

“I did have hope, at the beginning; hope that perhaps there could be some — tenderness between us. Nothing like—” He make a vain gesture up at me and closed his eyes, as though he couldn’t bear it. “—like what I kent it could be between a husband and wife, but something good to keep me sane; keep me alive....Can ye see?...Have ye kent that same hope, Claire?.... Only she couldna; or I couldna. I’ll accept the blame in full, but in the end, the ‘why’ and ‘who’ dinna matter. It was a broken thing within months, and I knew that if I’d stayed....”

He hung his head, and for the first time, I could truly see the twenty years that had gone from his life.

“I left for Edinburgh; have been there ever since. I provide for them, but I havena called Balriggan home for over a year...nor shared her bed since long before that.”

The wind whistled between us. What he was saying...

I was numb. I was...It was like I was underwater, with news being shouted to me from dry land as I slowly drowned.

“I’ve lain wi’ three women, since you’ve been gone,” he blurted suddenly, urgently against my silence, his voice so miserable, his eyes imploring. “Laoghaire, and two single-night encounters, and from one of those—From one of those nights...”

Oh, Jesus...

“William,” he whispered, nodding in confirmation, his eyes absolutely wretched but shining with the need to confess. “He’s a — a bastard, in England, and I shall never see him again. I’ve never told anyone of him, not even Jenny or Ian. His mother, his putative father—they’re both dead. He’s highborn, in the care of a man I trust. John will give him a good life; better than ever a convicted traitor could.”

He closed his eyes and I could see his mouth working furiously as he tried both to form words and to hold back his weeping. “But he’s my son,” he whispered. “My only son, alive in the world because of me, and he’s bonny and canty and strong, just like Brianna, and there are days when I canna seem to live wi’out seeing him, holding him, or —” And he went silent, hiding his face in his hands until he could manage to speak. “Nor can I regret that he lives, for those years I had near Willie were the closest thing I’ve had to—to — And that only a shell of what....”

He raised a hand up as though he would cup my cheek across the chasm between us; then dropped it. Both hands lay on his thighs, aimless.

“No. Happiness has not been granted me, Claire.” He stared at his palms, speaking in the barest, broken murmur. “My heart left wi’ you and the bairn; and while it is my duty to go on, to care for those under my protection, as I shall do, I've had little joy save the knowledge that at the end, I'd die and be able to find ye, just as I promised. Two hundred years, I said I’d wait. I’ve been counting.”

The snowflakes danced around us in the near-night, oblivious to desperation or to miraculous sparks catching in dark, deep places.

“And to then learn in a moment that you’d come back...”

I tried to speak; but I was shaking so hard that I couldn’t open my mouth. I clenched it tight, feeling the tears slipping over my lips.

“Claire?” he moaned, reaching out a hand. “...Lass?...Love?...I feel as if I shall die if I canna touch ye....Please.”

My knees had locked — everything within me had locked, between Jamie and the cold— and as I tried to adjust my footing, I accidentally stumbled backward a pace.

Despair escaped out of him and he jumped up as though to run to me, but he thought better of it, and came back down to his knees.

“Twice, I brought ye here to send ye away, mo nighean donn, because I knew a better life awaited ye on the other side of those accursed stones. Perhaps it does, this day, as well, but this time, I shall beg. Don't go.”

He raised both clawed hands to me. The tears were flowing so violently and his face was so deeply contorted so as to be barely recognizable.

“Don’t go. Stay wi’ me. Stay. I canna...I canna do it...Please....*please*....”

I was paralyzed, completely immobilized by — by —

“Is it too much to forgive, Claire?” came the cracked moan of my heart through the darkness that had suddenly hidden him from me entirely. “Laoghaire and—and William? Do... do ye not want me?”

“God, Jamie...” I whispered, so softly that surely only the grass and the snow could hear.

It was the first time I had said his name aloud to him.

“....you're all I want.”

“Then what else matters?”

“....Nothing.”

Nothing else mattered.

And I was flying down to him, and he was flying off his knees to catch me, and the feeling of his arms around me, of Jamie’s arms around me at last was —

Like lightning, striking upon the sand. A flash of light, of power, instantly transforming the hundreds of tiny fragments— the millions of shards weathered to all but nothing by time—into a single, molten one. A whole.

END OF PART I

#;mod bonnie #A Hundred Lesser Faces #seeeee if i'd kept this with part 6 it would have been wayyyy too much #Angst Angst Baby #dm-dm-dm-dm-dididi-dm #also #sorry for the bolding #i usually avoid bold text but i found i needed it #why do mega-italics not exist #as if i needed more tools in my formatting-overkill repertoire

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imagine-kh · 8 years ago

Note

Can I have a fic where reader and Lea grew up together but when Lea loses his heart reader thinks he's abandoned her, reader becomes a nobody and reunites with Lea/Axel but reader can't remember him? Sorry for the blow up! If that's okay :)

Even though you wrote “her” in the ask, I’m going to make this gender-neutral. Sorry if that bothers you (???) And sorry for the horrible title!

I Don’t Have It Memorized… At Least, Not Anymore.

“Yes, Lea. For the fourth time today, I have your name memorized,” you said, slightly annoyed. “You don’t have to repeat it every time.”

Lea turned to you and draped an arm around your shoulders. “I’m just making sure my friend knows my name. What if it’s too complicated for you?”

Isa chimed in. “It’s easy as hell, Lea. They’re not going to forget.”

“Well, you remember it since we’re best friends, right, Isa?”

“Of course. Always.”

Lea chuckled. “Watch. One day, the whole world will know my name!!!”

You stared at the two of them, Lea and Isa. Sun and Moon, Ying and Yang. How can such complete opposites be best friends? you wondered. Lea was loud and boisterous, a dare devil, while Isa was calm and calculating, the voice of reason.

There was nothing to write home about when it came to you. You felt average and insignificant compared to them, yet they always made time for you. Well, to be accurate, Lea always made time for you. Isa sort of just tagged along. But it was comforting to know that you had friends.

Radiant Garden was somewhat of a small town, where everybody knew everybody. And of course, everybody knew the three of you. Always wreaking havoc, with Lea’s mischievous and slightly dangerous pranks and schemes. They were well worth the scolding though, spending time with Lea and Isa were great times. Ending the day looking over the sunset reflecting the fountain was a plus, too.

But there were also times were Isa wasn’t involved. You loved those times the most. Lea would often visit your house, and talks about life and who were you supposed to be in life were big topics. The pressures of being teenagers - not yet an adult, but no longer a child - were stressful. You realized that through these talks, Lea was insanely insecure. Losing his friends and being alone were his biggest fears. Him opening up to you and being vulnerable were the most emotional moments of your friendship with him. You have done everything with him, and you were more close with him than Isa, even as children.

Your thoughts crumbled as Lea snapped in front of your face.

“Yo,” he looked at you, pouting. “Did you even hear anything I just said?”

“Obviously not, Lea. You talk so much I don’t understand why this whole town hasn’t gone deaf.” Isa said, with a hint of a smirk playing at his lips.

“Can it, Isa.” he turned back to you. “Anyway, long story short, I said that me and Isa are gonna go to that lab in the castle tomorrow. We’re new recruits!”

“Isa and I.” you corrected. “And are you sure? That castle gives me the creeps… I don’t think you two should go. Rumor has it that they’ve been doing some odd experiments in there.”

“Everything will go according to plan, Y/N,” Isa reassured. “We promise.”

Lea nodded in agreement. “Yeah, and if anything does happen, you’ll be here to bring us back.”

Oh, those liars. They never came back. For days you waited. Weeks, and then even after those pesky guards, Dilan and Even disappeared after a month, you decided it was time to sneak in and see what happened.

You saw their bodies on the ground of the lab, your friends’ bodies, rotting. As it looked like they didn’t have a heart.

From that point on, you realized that you didn’t have a heart either, since they weren’t around. They were your whole world, and they just… abandoned you. Lea was a damn hypocrite.

“Yo, Axel,” Demyx walked into Axel’s quarters, sitar in hand and a hooded figure behind him. “Boss man Saix says you have to train this new recruit.”

An exasperated groan escaped Axel’s lips. “Why do I always get stuck with the icky jobs?”

Demyx shrugged. “No idea, bro. Anyway, train them properly.”

“Like you’re one to talk.”

“Hey! Rude!” and with that, Demyx left, leaving Axel alone with you, the new recruit.

He circled around you. “Not much of a talker, are you?”

You dropped your hood down, meekly looking at your feet. “I’m just shy… You’re Axel, right? I only know because Demyx said your name. Yours is particularly hard to remeber. ” you stuck your hand out for him to shake.

He grasped your hand and gave it a firm shake. “Yeah,” he looked at you, green eyes baring into your soul. Well, if you had one. You were a Nobody now.

“What is it?”

“Do you… know who I am?”

“No. I don’t remember anything prior to becoming a Nobody.”

“I see…” he cleared his throat. “We start tomorrow. Get some rest.”

“Alright.” you swiftly left.

It couldn’t be, could it? It wasn’t you. The friend Isa and him always spent time with. He was a Nobody! He shouldn’t be remembering these things! How could you have not remembered him?! You three did everything together! Surely Saix remebered, right? That’s why he sent you to be trained.

Nobodies aren’t supposed to feel like this.

They’re supposed to be forgotten.

He shouldn’t feel these things in him.

These feelings. No, those are things that only people with hearts have.

And he didn’t have a heart.

He was a proper Nobody, right?

If he was a Nobody, then he was the first Nobody to have ever cried.

I hoped you liked this! This is my first fic, so sorry if it’s awkward. Fics are harder than original work for me. But, I gotta practice. I wanna be a writer one day! I don’t even know what to classify this as, angst? - Mod Terra

#kh #kingdom hearts #mod terra #fanfic #axel #lea #reader

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