#ehhhhhh if you squint

[amethystfox4]

If Dark Sonic appears due to intense negative emotions, what if those emotions happen to be directed at the self... shear will, or words might not work.

Idk I just had the thought of if Shadow's inhibitor rings regulate his power, what would happen if Sonic "lost control"?

Also this Amy does use inhibitors, though they are weighted, to combat her insane strength that could cause her to break her own bones (really why does she have them other than to give her a color other than shades of red)

[evilautismcrusades]

lookie i made more swapped character designs (ft. ruined quality please view them in full i beg of you)

been thinking more abt the au... the swatch > berdly and spamton > noelle swaps are unnamed but i might not change them (or at least not by alot). also they still need colored designs

jalster replaces ralsei obviously, tascha is susie, and seam (decided not to change their name bc it sounds enough like a normal name anyways) is kris <3 ill decide on more stuff, backstory and lore and such as well as other swaps, and hopefully give them all light world designs soon !! though i do have a big pixel art project coming up (eyes emoji) so theres a chance development on this will be paused

also want to disclaim all 5 of these characters are adults but i dont want and wont make nsfw content of them!!!!!

@sarsammy you were saying you might want to draw jalster? you dont have to ofc but if you wanted the full up-to-date ref for him then its done !!

[fruutbaag]

nooooo dont have another minor gender crisis your so sexy ahaha

[johnandrasjaqobis]

...you have your father's eyes

not gonna lie it took me a second of squinting to realize what this was referencing but G O D it's like a sleeper cell activation

I MISS HELIX Y'ALL, was it a super quality show ehhhhhh maybe not, did it have some the of the cheesiest one liners, absolutely, does it deeply compel me to this day, holy shit

I'll never fully forgive them for what they did to Sergio and Anana, but. a h. what a show that was. the conspiracy theories that abounded after every single episode. the zizz. all of the little bonus teaser things they'd post on the syfy website. the fucking music.

you have your father's eyes indeed, everyone should watch Helix it's an absolute gift to this world and I miss Sergio constantly

[tremorsmackenzie]

i have a lot of feelings on season 5. ive posted how i see 5x14 and its aftermath (or lack thereof) at some point, and im still happy with that explanation... but just the fact that these mental gymnastics are necessary kind of shows what problems i think there are.

everything that happens sort of makes sense if you squint a little, like yes, daisy would absolutely go rescue simmons on a dime damn the consequences if the guy telling her them is essentially an untrustworthy opium dealer whos visibly mainly out for himself and she didnt actually witness any of the excessive brutality he spoke of herself. but... like this? without first trying to reconnect with the others? get backup at least maybe? or at least the lay of the land? idk man, sounds a bit scripted to me.

and yes, simmons kind of has an excuse for what she does and doesnt do, because she visibly went off the rails after 5x14 and then her husband died, but we also dont see her and daisy make up after it at any point. i think its implied, because theyre both pretty close in season 6 again, but ehhhhhh. show me. please. you cant do something like this and just pretend like everything is fine without even giving a character a line like "what happened back there was awful, but man am i glad we were there for each other afterwards at least" or something.

basically it all felt a little forced and the consequences werent really dealt with onscreen at all. i dont think they just skipped over them in terms of what actually happened on and offscreen, but they sure dont make a lot of effort to elaborate on it. as far as i know, season 5s script had to be rushed and for that it is still really good, but they couldve at least tried to deal with the fallout a little more in season 6 imo.

[gentlcmanscientist]

by the way, i’ve written some content for maxwil, which, while as rare as a blue moon, i can share here if anyone would like me to.

[evileyeaisling]

WHAT’S YOUR FATAL FLAW ? 

G) Fatal flaw: You’re married to your job.     Your priorities are as follows: your job is number one, and in a distant second is literally everything else. Take a break, you workaholic! If you don’t, you’ll tether yourself to this sinking ship and wind up working yourself to the breaking point. You might very well have a crisis of identity. You’ll definitely strain your relationship with your significant other. I bet you’re a police officer, or a surgeon or something. Just… take it easy, okay? Spend time with your family.

TAGGED BY: @spellofthesouth TAGGING: @worlds-okayest-ferromancer @thefomorturncoat @alaricseer @dangerous-smoll @valdiviathesourceress 

[bigsnzstanacct]

The King’s New Allergy (1-3/5ish I think?)

Okay this is the last one I’m gonna post for a bit I think. Male, Mer/lin fanfic if  you squint maybe, not quite gigantic sneezes but also WILDLY unrealistic in volume.

---

I. The Night Watch

“Ha-ehhhh… ehhhhhh… hHHEEEEHHHHHhhh…”

I could practically see the castle walls shaking. I was on the king’s watch, posted just outside his bedchamber. Ordinarily the night’s watch over the king’s chamber was an uneventful, easy enough job. But that was ordinarily. And these were hardly ordinary circumstances.

“hheeeEEHHH! EEEHH! HEH! HEHH! HEHHH!”

“ ‘ere he goes again…” complained Caspian, the guard assigned the watch with me, rolling his eyes, and covering his ears, for all the good it’d do. “Whole castle’ll be wakin’ up five hours early in three… two…”

I did likewise, covering my ears in preparation for the explosion.

“HUUUUUUUHHHHHH…”

“…one…”

“HUUURRRRRRRRRSSSSCCCCHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!” The king fairly roared.

I heard more than one started yelp in the aftermath of the king’s sneeze. But those were faint, only perceptible to an elite guard like myself, trained to notice all manner of slight, subtle noises. The king’s sneeze, however, was neither slight, nor subtle. It was a veritable war-cry. Worse than a war-cry, I myself had heard the king’s war-cry and it had nothing on his all-consuming, castle-awakening, sleep-destroying…

“HHHHHAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRSSCCCHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOEEEEYYYYYY!!!” Our Vesuvial monarch erupted again, adding an involuntary—surely involuntary, he SWORE up and down it was involuntary—scream to the end, in case the body of the noise hadn’t been sufficient.

“How long y’think ‘e goes on this time, Damien?” Caspian asked, nodding towards me.

Frankly, on the strength of that first wall-rattling sneeze, he was either going to blast the irritation out in four or five full-strength sneezes, or else…

“Sounds like ‘is nose is tickled right good, my friend.” I confessed, shaking my head, “I’m afraid it’ll be a long night for all of us. We’re in for more fits tonight. And he’ll be in a right mood in the morning. It don’t let him sleep anymore than it does the rest of us. If I didn’t know better, I’d think this allergy of the King’s was more than an allergy…”

“AAAAAAAAEEEERRRRRRRRRRSSCCCCHHHHHHHHUUUUHHHHHHHH!!” The nasal bombardments continued, that one less vocal, more nasal, still a wall of sound that surely awoke what precious-few castlefolk had managed to cling to sleep through his first two sneezes.

“Arrrggghhhhh… and you know if ‘e sneezes all nigh’, ‘e’ll prob’ly sneeze half the day too… that’ll be no sleep for us either.”

“Says you,” I replied, “I sleep down in the lower town.”

“You’re telling me, you can’t hear those great big galumphing—“

“AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHH!!”

“That. You’re telling me you can’t hear that down in the lower town?”

“Well, of course you can. But you know my brother does a bit of the…” I wiggled my fingers a bit, to indicate the forbidden: magic.

“Warded the house ‘ave you? Smart one.”

“Don’t get me wrong, Caspian, you can still hear ‘im if it’s a really big one. But it’s faint, an’ I’m a plenty heavy sleeper when I want to be.”

“HaahHHH… AHHH-HHOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRSSCCCHHHHHHHH!!”

“Gods, that was a big one!” Caspian exclaimed, “Even after all this time, ‘e still shocks me with how big they are. I know it’s a whole ‘thing’ with the royals, the whole sneezing like the thunder thing. Lord knows the princess could rattle the walls good before they married ‘er off to whatever kingdom she’s gone to, but…”

“EEEEHHHHHHTTTSSSSSHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!”

“But even Princess Eleanor couldn’t compare to this,” I finished for him. And it was true, she couldn’t. None of them could. In fact, before this whole… thing started happening, I’d personally thought the whole “descended of Jupiter with sneezes of the thunder” thing was a great crock of shite. Not that I blamed them of course; royals had to have some mystique to maintain their legitimacy, and the gods know I’d worked under worse kings as a sell-sword, before I found my place here. But still, seemed like another load of royal horseshit. Until a fortnight prior, when the king had been plagued with the most terrible allergy that seized upon him and wrung out of him sneezes that seemed fit to wake the dead… or perhaps to rival the thunder in their volume and violence. It hadn’t been so bad, the first few days. But after that first night, when the allergy refused to leave him, even in his sleep, awaking the king with the most awful irritations—who subsequently woke the entire castle with the most awful sternutations—the people of the castle had been less than enthusiastic, turning to barely-concealed rage. Lack of sleep did that to a castle. It wasn’t every night, of course, and it wasn’t as though the king sneezed constantly through the night, but… it was certainly enough to set the entire castle on edge. And this, the third night in a row? Well, blessed be the gods for gainful employment solely at night.

“AAAAARRRRRCCCHHOOOOOOOOOOOO!!” The king thundered again.

“That one sounded tuckered out!” Caspian exclaimed, “y’think that means he’ll taper off soon?”

I shook my head. “It was a bit smaller than his usual but… mark me, we’ve got plenty left in this fit of his. If the gods are kind—“

“HHEEEEEEAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRR-CCCHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!” And there was the loudest sneeze yet, perhaps the loudest I’d heard from him since the whole business began. I nearly jumped in fright, and poor Caspian leapt fully into the air. He was only lucky he stifled his squeal of shock—more than one guard had already been replaced for reacting too noisily to the king’s eruptions. Poor thing. I think it embarrassed the king. He was already suffering, he didn’t need the reminder of how much he was inconveniencing everybody else with his inability to get a hold of his accursed, enormous, explosive, seizing sinuses…

“AAAAAAEEEEEEEEESSSSSCCCCCHHHHHHHHUUUHHHHHH!!”

“If the gods are kind, we’re halfway through. If not… for all we know this fit’ll go straight into the second and we’ll barely get a reprieve for thirty minutes.”

“Gods, I don’t know how you do it.” Caspian said, shaking his head at me, and clutching at his chest, trying to recover from the fright the king had given him. “They really weren’t this bad, during the war? I know you fought in his unit, back when ‘e was just the prince.”

“Oh, well… ‘e sneezed plenty big back then too. Woke us up more than once, tho half the time I think it was on purpose. It was always suspiciously close to time to march. But that…” I shook my head, “that was a bunch of soldiers, sleeping light and sleeping rough, ready for action at any time—you know he had us on the dangerous route, aroun’ through that forest—and sure, ‘e was loud but this is—“

“HHAAAAAAAAA-SHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!”

“This is different. This is worse than I’ve ever heard ‘im, by far. I heard tell in the old days, if ‘e caught cold, you could hear him, real faint, down in the kitchens. But not like… you know old Caliphrea said it sounded to her like he was right next to her bedside. First night she woke up all ready to curtsey and ask what the king was doin’ in ‘er bedchambers!” I chuckled.

“You don’t think…?” Caspian said, looking at me meaningfully and giving a little wiggle to his fingers.

At last he’d got it. I’d been hinting around at it for a while, but. It wasn’t wise to speak too openly about these things. A little enchantment of a bungalow in the lower town, sure. The occasional herbal pick-me-up, a little help with the chores… that much was fine to speak about. That much had changed, since the bad old days, where magic was concerned. But this? Speculating that the king had been ensorcelled? Especially with something like this, something so close to the mythology that had always surrounded the crown? To attribute it to anything other than the king’s royal blood and manly fortitude (at least in earshot of any of the nobility) was unwise, to say the least. But now that he’d said it, I could reveal a bit more of my thoughts.

“HAAAEEEESSSSHHHHOOOOOOOOOO!!! AEEEEESSCCCCHHHOOOOOOOOO!! HUUHHH… AAAATTTTTTTTTT-CCCHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOEEEEEYYYYYYYYY!!!”

Or, at least, I could if the king stopped sneezing long enough for me to be heard over the din. And to think this was only his first fit of the night…

— II. The Head Cook

“EEEEEEAAAAAACCCHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!”

Thank the gods I hadn’t bothered to attempt sleep. Five nights running, and my old bones, and my bad health, I think the king’s sneeze might have shocked me into an early grave! Saints and heavens, louder than ever! And the gods know the king would never forgive himself for that, would probably set that sorcerer of his—not that the king’s manservant was to be referred to as a sorcerer, and wasn’t that peculiar, though it’s hardly the first not-entire-secret-secret that’s gone around this old castle, including the nasty business about the king’s own mother… oh dear me I’m rambling. Well in any case, I’d die of fright, he’d send down the sorcerer to save me and before I knew it I’d find myself an undead cook, cursed to make the king’s favorite pastries for all eternity. Which, after some consideration, doesn’t sound all that bad, especially if the sorcerer fixed my aching hip. I quite like making pastries.

“Ms Caliphrea… ’e’s off again!” Tarran said, as she shuffled into the kitchen, still in her nightgown, looking harried and upset. I should never have told that girl she was my favorite of the maids—she was always seeking me out, more and more since the King’s booming sneezes had started up. She was a sweet girl, but somehow in the evenings she never had the energy to help me mix dough and cut tarts.

“Worse ’n last night!” I said, commiserating as I poured the milk and sugar in with the flour, shortly before the king proved me right with a great thundering

“HHHHHHHAAAEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSHHHHH!!!”

You really could hear him just as clear as bell, as if he’d been right next to me. Though clear as a bell might’ve been something of an understatement. The king’s sneezes—

“HHHERRRRRRRRAAAAAAASSSCCCCHHHHHEEEWWWWW!!!”

—were more like standing inside a great cathedral bell as it was being rung, filling your whole head with sound, resounding and resounding til it was all you could even think of. At least, that’s what they were like lately. The good King’s never been a quiet sneezer, that I can say with a great deal of confidence. Even when he was still the Prince and not a crowned and holy King, he’d still sneeze loud enough that I could hear down in the kitchens. Of course, then his chamber was right above the kitchens, even if a few floors of the castle above. And it was loud, true. (Although I might exaggerate the tale a bit, that’s my right as a matriarch of this castle!) But back then he wasn’t being heard in the lower town, I know that; no one sneezes that loud. Or no one did, because these days…

“EEEEEEEAAAACCCCCCHHHHOOOOOOOOOO!!!! HAAAAAACCCCHHHOOOOOOOOOOOO!! HHHHAAAEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

“Auuggghhh…” Tarran moaned, “I’m just so tiiiiiiired, mum. I don’t mean to complain but…” She flopped down onto the counter, rather dramatically. I must’ve been tired myself because I’d ordinarily scold her for such behavior, but I just nudged her over a bit, so I could get at the rolling pin. The first dough, that I’d made earlier in the night, would be rested and ready to roll out soon.

“But it’s just… does the King have to sneeze so loudly?” she whined, “I’m half-deaf, mum! And my sis, she works in the stables and she says it frights the horses so they’ve got to keep someone to the stables all the time and if his sneezin’ didn’t wake the stablehands as much as it does the horses…”

“He can’t help it, you know that,” I said, giving her a gentle pat on the head. “If he would, he could. The King loves his people. You know he’d do anything to make things better for us. I’ll bet the king has tried five or six times to exile himself til he gets his sneezing under control. But we need him here—”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-EEEERRRRRRRRSSSSCCCHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

“MERCY!” I yelped, “that was a loud one even for ‘im! Must’ve been brewing in there for a while… now what was I saying, Tarran?”

“Blah blah blah he’s a good king and he loves us and we need him here. I don’t care, mum, I just wanna sleep!”

“Now Tarran—”

“HHHEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRRRSSCCCCHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-AAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!”

The king sneezed again, with a scream at the end that rattled like the thunder. In fact, that’s exactly what it sounded like, like the King was a one-man storm, like a clap of thunder…

“Mum?” Tarran asked, tapping at my shoulder. “Mum, you were saying?”

“I was… I was saying…”

“HEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAASSSCCCHHHOOOOOOOOOOOO!!” The King sneezed again.

“Tarran. Tarran, have I ever told you the tale of our royal family and the great gods of Olympus?”

“The great who’s of a-what-ness??”

“The gods of Olympus… Jupiter, the King of the gods. Our royal family is descended from the god of…”

“AAAAAAAAARRRRRREEEEEESSSSSCCCCCHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

Louder still. It seemed that the King’s roars were louder than thunder, louder than ever…

“Tarran… in the morning… go and fetch the physician, will you? Tell him that old Caliphrea wants to see em. Tell ‘im it’s important, and to come right away.”

“YYYEEEEEESSSCCCCHHOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! HEEEESSCCHHOOOOOOOOOO!!! AAAAARRRREEESCCCHHHHH!!! HEESSCCCCHHHH!! HAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYEEEEEESSCCCCCHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!”

“Oh by the gods!” Tarran exclaimed. “How is he doing that? If I sneezed that loud I’d… I’d blow up! It’s impossible! D’ye hear that mum? How are any of us supposed to sleep with the King storming away up there…”

I put an arm around her, going back to rolling out my dough before cutting it and putting it in the oven. The storm was over for now, you could always tell after a big fit of sneezes like that. “There there child. Run along now and catch some sleep before he starts up again. You know the King’s manservant has been called back to the castle; between him and that old physician of ours, we’ll have the King fixed right up in no time, isn’t that right?”

“Yes mum. I’m sorry… I don’t mean to speak ill of the King I’m just… I’m just so tired…”

“So run along now, and get your rest. Odds are he’ll start up again before the sun rises. Get in your winks while you can.”

“Yes mum. I hope it’s a long time before he starts up again this time. Me poor ears can’t take much more!” She whined, giving one last forlorn look back at me before she slunk back to her chambers for a bit of rest.

For me, I had plotting to do. I knew the old physician knew of the stories, the legend of the power of Jupiter and all that. All us of a certain age knew the fairytale. But not all have been in this castle as long as I have. Not all remember how the stories can come true. And besides, I had baking to do! And he was going to start up again soon. If I needed my rest, I’d take it during the day while the maids spread the food throughout the castle. Of course, the King had taken to sneezing more and more during the day as well… but with any luck, between my old stories and the physician, and the King’s sorcerer heading back this way… hopefully our nightly disruptions—and our exhausted King—would be set right soon enough.

“Sneezin’! Of all things, sneezin’!” I chuckled to myself, “Well, wonders never cease around here. I’ve certainly seen worse.” I murmured as I cut the dough and carried it towards the ovens. — Bugger. Blighter. Codswollop. Addlepate. Nincompoop. Stubborn old never-changing know-it-all arrogant clotpole of a king!

“AAAAEEEEEEEESSSSCCHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!”

And damn near the most attractive man in the whole history of the planet!

It was enough that he’d lied, said he was fine, said it was just a little allergy, said it was no worry at all if I went out on a quest, said he’d deal with it, said he’d solve the issue just fine on his own… and never even bothered to think that he might keep up the entire kingdom! That was all enough, but that the problem I was now—finally—called upon to solve was so gods damned distracting…

“HHHHAAAAAAARRRRRRAAAASSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

“Bloody hell, they’ve gotten louder! Ohhh, you don’t know how much you’re helping me with this sleeping draught, er, I mean, this sleeping medicine." The old villager assured me. And ordinarily I would be gracious and more than glad to help but right now all I could offer him was a distracted,

“Oh, yes, of course, uh…”

For all I knew, he was nattering on in the background, joking about the draught or magic or the sneezes but oh the sneezes were all I could focus on, all I could think about, waiting for the next one to strike wondering how each one was impossibly louder than the last, standing on edge, hoping I’d be able to hide my reaction to the next gigantic, impossible, ridiculous, practically supernatural:

“WWWWWWHHHHHHHHAAAAAAASSSSSHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOEEEEYYYYYY!!”

“Bloody hell, he’s putting me on!” The words leapt from my throat before I could contain them but by all the gods if it didn’t seem like he was making them louder, more vocal, more desperate just for me…

I had to get out of here, preferably without visibly adjusting myself.

“Alright, so nice to talk to you but I’m afraid I’ll have to go, of course I’m glad to help you, as the King’s Right Hand it’s my duty to help everyone in the kingdom but especially our beloved capitol citizens and..”

“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEYYYYYYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAASSSSHHHH-HHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!”

“Oh by all the gods that was a bellow, he’s practically roaring them…” I bit my fist. Apparently whatever cursed robbed him of control of his nose left my mouth similarly uncontrollable. Who would have thought I’d ever have a secret to conceal from the people more than the magic? And yet, here I was shuffling out of a house, grateful for once for the abundance of robes our damned “apothecary” insisted I wear, because I wasn’t sure how much longer I could restrain myself from reacting to the constant eruptions coming from the throne room, where I knew he was attempting to hold court, but couldn’t because his nose, his beautiful nose, his itching, twitching, out-of-control, world wonder of a nose wouldn’t let him conduct state business, was more demanding, more powerful even than a king, forcing him to surrender every few moments to another magically-amplified:

“HEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAARRRRRRRRSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHH!!!”

He was always a loud sneezer. I wouldn’t say that was the first thing that attracted him to me. No, that wouldn’t even be true. But I wouldn’t lie and say I didn’t notice it either. He’d get colds, back when I was his manservent, and I would tend to him and try so hard to pretend every great galumphing roar of a sneeze didn’t make me want to swoon. And the servants, the kitchen staff, even the knights would laugh and joke that he had the sneezes of thunder, that they could hear him all over the castle and into the lower town, well… it might have been a joke then, but it certainly wasn’t now. Neither the range of his boistrous sternutations, nor their thunderous source.

“AAAAAAARRRRRRRRRAAASSSSSSSHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

“Gods!” I cried out, unable to restrain it. The townsfolk would think, there goes the King’s Right Hand, as annoyed with him as the rest of us are. But annoyance was as far from my mind as the King was from his senses when he sent me away, in the midst of what I knew was not some ordinary ailment. Even before they’d grown to their present titanic scope, I knew there was something unusual about this new allergy of his, something stronger, deeper. I almost felt my magic react—of course, I figured it wasn’t exactly my magic that was pulling me to stay with him, care for him. These things can be hard to tell apart. Apparently it was both.

Was it three? Five? Ten? Twelve? Seventeen? more roaring sneezes he released on my walk from the lower town up to the castle? I couldn’t keep track, distracted by how desperately I wanted  to go either to him, or to my chambers; to comfort him, or to relieve the ever-mounting tension I felt every time he—

“HHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRSSSCCCHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!”

“By the ancient—!” another bitten off curse. It was as though I was walking through a wall of sound. The shockwave of his sneeze felt as though it bodily pushed me back, washed over me like a wave. Was it my magic that was tingling my skin or was it just… me? These things could be hard to tell apart. But no, no time to focus on that. How ironic that this of all things would be the most successful attack on the kingdom in years, practically decades. How could anyone have known between his pride and my predilections, we would find this perhaps the hardest to break of all known curses?

I had trained. Trained ceaselessly, trained til I had control over my magic that I could only have dreamt of as a younger man. (And did, actually). And as such, ordinarily breaking such a curse—powers of the ancient gods notwithstanding—would be… well, if not child’s play, certainly achievable. But as desperately as I focused on the needs of our Kingdom, there was always a tendril, and edge of my dumb desire, that I could not will into the spell. To break a curse like the King’s “allergy,” one bound up in centuries old magics even I knew more by feel than by fact, would take all my concentration, all my will. But I could not bend all my will to the containment of these eruptions he called sneezes, not when there was still a part of me that found nothing in all the world more attractive.

But I had to put that out of my mind as I passed through the castle halls. I was approaching our apothecary’s chambers. My old Druid rival, turned a friend. Still, friend though he might be, I knew better than to trust him with a secret like the real reason I was unable to break this curse—the mockery might literally never end. Still, I had to suppress a shudder when the King sneezed just as I passed by the Audience Chamber, where he was still doing his best to conduct offical business.

“W-we shall not see a rihhHHHH… riiHHHHHHHHHHHH… HIIIIIIIIIIIIHHHHHHHHHHH…”

I couldn’t help my curiosity, couldn’t help but peer in to see a chamber full of petitioners and nobles, scribes and scholars, openly bracing themselves, covering their ears, looking at the King’s working, flaring, twitching nostrils as though they were facing down a lance at a tourney, hunkering down in the hopes that their ears would survive another:

“HHHHHHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIAAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! Oh by the g-gaaaAHHHH… gods I… I’m s-sorryaaaAAHHHHHH… AAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRSSSSCCCCCHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!! Damn! No rise in the tahhh… tax… oh…”

He sounded so pitiful, so miserable, so utterly at the mercy of the tickle in his nose. The sneezes sounded as though they were wrenched from him, and I cursed myself for my weakness—surely my love for him ought to be strong enough that all of my being would spare him this suffering. Surely that love ought to outweigh that tendril of silly, foolish desire…

“RRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHH-EEEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!”

I couldn’t stand this much longer, caught between the pleasure of the sight and the torment of my powerlessness, not before the King’s new allergy, but before my own stubborn selfishness. Whoever managed to work this curse, to channel the magicks of the King’s bloodline in such a frankly ridiculous way, surely they never could have suspected they would practically grind royal business to a halt, since the king could hardly get through three sentences without succumbing to sneezes that shook the castle to its foundations.

I could only hope that the apothecary had a remedy where I did not. I suspected I was still red in the face when I arrived at his chambers, to see him standing outside, smirking.

“I see you took some time to check on our monarch and his nasal bombardments,” he drawled, smirk never fading.

I could have asked him how precisely he knew I had taken such time, but I knew that was a question I would do decidedly better not to ask. “Yes, I have.” I replied tersely.

“Oh, the King’s Right Hand is too austere and wise for a bit of ribbing from the Court Physician I see. Alright, alright, we’ll play this your way.” He said, as he ushered me into his chambers. I could hear the laugh in his voice, and despite my very firm pledge never to use magic to harm, or for selfish ends, I quite wanted to curse him into silence. Although that would prevent him from telling me about his remedy, assuming he had one.

“Yes, of course, I have a solution. Never thought I’d be the one to solve a magical malady with you around but I suppose this is why it never hurts to have a backup, hm?” He said, mirth still dancing around his eyes. I perhaps would have succumbed to a desire to at least place a mild hex on him but of course, the King intervened with a—

“EEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRAAAAASSSSSSSHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

It would be undignified, and untrue, to say I had to stifle a moan. It was just surprise.

“Ah, I see the typhoon still rages.” He said, looking up at me under coy eyelashes. “Well, it won’t for much longer, as I have devised a solution!”

I wanted to scream at him to get on with it, but frankly I didn’t trust my voice as another great cracking “HHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRSCCCCCCCCCHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!” lascerated the air.

“So, we know that you are unable to directly attack this curse. And while there are rituals I could perform—very lengthy and painful rituals which I would not at all enjoy—” his curving lips belied that statement but beyond a raised eyebrow I did not dare comment, “that would separate our King from the ancient Olympian magicks that echo through his bloodline.  Oh, pause for thunder!”

“AAAAAAEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

I wanted to ask him how he knew that the King was about to sneeze yet again, but so often with the Druid it was better not knowing.

“In any case, while I could accomplish such a ritual, the consequences on our King’s temperament, abilities, and frankly his sheer dumb luck may be unpredictable. Whatever silly hedgewitch stumbled her way into this curse was dealing in forces far beyond her comprehension or abilities. In all likelihood, all of this involves nothing more than an enchantment on some pollenating plant or other that causes the pollen to excite the Olympian magicks with which our King is imbued. All that energy excited, with nowhere to go, what can it do but release. At this point, the King is probably less responding to an allergy than releasing pure Olympian magick in the only way his body knows how. Which I suppose is better than him manifesting lightning bolts, or perhaps the magic itself tearing him in two. Or three. Or five. Or any number of pieces, really, given the nature of wild mag—”

I was about to interrupt him, to demand he get to the point, but of course the King’s nose did it for me: “HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

That one seemed to be the loudest yet. Maybe this theory of magic all riled up with nowhere to go was true. And whatever the magic was, it seemed to be more and more riled by the second.

“So!” he said, either brought back on track by the King’s exp,losion or the impatience he saw on my face, “we could track down the agent causing the reaction, which would presumably involve exposing the King successively to every flower that grows in the nearby region to see which most excites the Olympian allergy, rather than the King’s ordinary sensitivities to pollen, which in turn would involve some sort of measure both of magic and of, well volume…” he continued, his smirk back and wider by the second. He wanted some sort of reaction. I wouldn’t give him one. If I could summon a yawn for myself, I would.

“But then again, the exposure might excite the Olympian magicks too much and well we’ve already discussed the possibilities there… in any case, after much thought, I have finally come to the correct conclusion! It will require your assistance, of course, although in a roundabout way, as you seem to experience some sort of… disability… when it comes to this particular magical circumstance. Our issue is that the King’s wild magick needs somewhere to go. So we shall simply tell it to go to you!”

“To me?!” I couldn’t help but blurt. I had done my best to stay stoic during his explanation—any reaction risked revealing too much—but this was too much. “You mean, when the King sneezes… forever, it will… send ancient Olympian magic into me?”

“Well, not forever. Over time it will… hm… it will establish a flow with your magic. A sort of… channel for the magic to travel. So rather than release in a sort of uncontrollable, violent…”

“HHHHHHHHHHHHEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSSHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

“…that,” he chuckled, “rather than that, if his magic is excited, it will simply flow into your infinite supply of magic, of which it is already, in some sense, a part. And presumably if you are in regular and close contact with the King, which, as his Right Hand you must be, the magic will naturally flow back to him, in gradual, manageable amounts, which shouldn’t cause such a—”

“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHEEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!”

“--dramatic reaction.”

I couldn’t help but lean against the counter for a moment, as I felt my knees give a bit with that last sneeze. I still had reason to doubt the Druid, although his plan made sense. And he truly was an ally, he’d proven that a thousand times over. Still, his alliegence—as he regularly made plain—was not to our King, much less to our Kingdom, and still less to me, in any real way. His alliegance was to prophecies, to the Old Religion, and some role that my magic—not me, but my magic—supposedly played in their Grand Design. But at present I could have given a flying codswollop about a grand design. All I wanted was to be at the King’s side, and sooner rather than later. And I wanted this problem solved. So…

“Alright. How soon can the remedy be prepared?”

“I’ll need a list of herbs…” he said, brandishing a rather long scroll, “how would you like to relive your former days are the physician’s apprentice, and help me gather these? I couldn’t possibly entrust it to anyone else, and it will help the spell for you to have as much proximity to the ingredients as poss—”

I did indulge myself in a bit of magic to summon the scroll from his hand. I may or may not have also indulged myself in sticking my tongue out at him. Which of course only promptly caused me to bite said tongue when another great rushing

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRCCCHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

—resounded through the castle. The Druid’s face remained placid, smirk constant, but I could tell inside he was quaking with laughter.

“Alright, alright, I’ll gather your ingredients. Just… help him. Please.”

“Of course I shall. I am ever at your service.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it.” I muttered, as I turned to go, already scanning the scroll for the list of elements needed for this remedy.

“Hm, what was that?”

“HHHHHHHHHHHHHEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSSHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!”

“Sorry, couldn’t hear you over all that, gotta go!”

And with that I rushed from the Druid’s chambers. I suspected I heard a chortle through the closed door.

[keelywolfe]

Drabble: Not the End of the World (baon)

Summary: It's not the end of the world as Stretch knows it. Probably.

Notes:  My craving for autumn fluffiness cannot be stopped

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationship, Domestic, Fluff

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

Read it on AO3

or

Read it Here!

~~*~~

It might well be a sign of an upcoming apocalypse or maybe a garden variety catastrophe, but it was the weekend and Edge wasn’t in the kitchen. He wasn’t cleaning either, tromping around the house getting everything into his version of order.

For once, he was out in the yard and it wasn’t to mow the grass or rake leaves or ready his plants for the coming winter. Edge was curled up on the porch swing, his legs stretched out across the bench and a fuzzy blanket on his lap. He was reading, of all things, probably some boring shit about political negotiation wrangling, but maybe a puzzle book, and he was actually wearing his glasses for once. Half the time he forgot them until he was squinting at his laptop screen and verging on a headache. The little round lenses made him look like Harry Potter in his much later years, hell, he even had a scar.

Aside from an episode or two of a Netflix show, Edge wasn’t much for sitting still on the weekends, or, well, anytime, to be honest. To see him outside, settled in with a book and a blanket was like waking up into opposite day. It was a really nice day, though, sunlight dappling through the leaves that were still on the tree, turning them golden and scarlet. The chickens were wandering through the yard, searching out tasty insects, and all in all, it was a scene of homey comfort.

And damn if Stretch didn’t want to get in on it.

Anytime Stretch was outside, Edge always brought him a drink or a snack, so it only seemed fair to return the favor. Stretch wasn’t ready to try on a chef’s hat or anything, but he could probably manage a drink. Something hot, it was a chilly outside.

Coffee would be easiest, but ehhhhhh. For starters, Edge sank enough caffeine into his marrow on any given day to jumpstart a blue whale, and if he was allowed to bitch about cigarettes then Stretch had grumping rights about the coffee. Besides, it didn’t really suit the theme of a day. A glance into the fridge found a bottle of apple cider and that seemed to go better with falling leaves and plaid blankets.

It didn’t take long to warm it on the stove, and Stretch even tossed in a cinnamon stick the way Blue always used to. When it was hot, he carefully poured it into a mug, only spilling a little, then carried the steaming cup out in both hands for maximum safety.

Edge glanced up when the door opened, watching with both brow bones raised as Stretch tried to balance the mug along with closing the door with fair success. Then he had to navigate around the ladies who dashed over to put themselves right underfoot like a flock of feathered attempted murderers.

But he shuffled his way over without slopping much of it, Edge watching him the entire way. Edge always looked a little stern and maybe that put people off at first. Not his fault, it was just how he was, his version of resting bitch face. Plus, Stretch had to reluctantly admit that sharp teeth and stark crimson eye lights didn’t usually put most people in the mind of Fluffy Bunny. Stretch knew better though, so much better what lay beneath that grumpy exterior and watching Edge’s harsh expression softened a little at the, heh, edges never failed to give Stretch the melting wibblies.

So did the glasses, but that was a private secret, thanks, he didn’t need Edge trying to indulge his filthy nerd fetish.

“i made you a drink.” Stretch held up the cup with all the grandeur of offering an Academy Award and not one of the shitty ones for like Fastest Catering or something.

Edge didn't ask why; maybe he guessed Stretch wanted to pay him back for all the times he did the same thing, or maybe he just didn't care. He set his book aside and took the cup with all the gravitas required of such an occasion. Didn’t leave Stretch squirming and took an immediate sip, swallowed it with a pleased murmur.

"It’s good,” he pronounced, and yeah, he’d probably lie if it wasn’t, but Edge was sort of a crap liar and Stretch wasn’t picking up anything on his bullshit-o-meter.

Either way, his pleasure at getting it was pretty damn obvious if you knew what to look for. He set the cup on the little side table and reached out to catch Stretch’s hand, tugging him directly into his lap without passing go or collecting the two-hundred bucks. Not like Stretch was going to resist, not a chance, because Edge gave the best hugs. Probably other people would never suspect it; Edge didn't give off a vibe of being happy about touching anything. But it was the swear by the stars truth; Edge never half-assed and if he was in for a hug, he was in it. All cozy warm and powerful arms, and he’d pull Stretch in close on any given day, at any time. Offer all that he was into one gentle embrace.

Stretch snuggled in happily, settling his cheekbone against Edge’s sternum. After a while, Edge started reading again over his shoulder, but he made no move to push Stretch back to his feet. Instead, he maneuvered the blanket to cover Stretch, too, cozying them together on an autumn day. Soon enough Stretch was drowsing, lulled by the blanket and Edge’s natural warmth, listening to his husband’s soft breathing.

“Thank you for the drink,” Edge murmured. It almost seemed to reverberate in Stretch’s skull, the words coming from beneath his auditory canal as much as from above him.

“welcome,” he mumbled. He could hear Edge take another sip, hear him swallow, the slight fizzling sound of his magic incorporating the cider. Edge shifted and the swing started rocking a little, pushed along by a foot on the ground.

That left him warm, comfortable, snuggled up with his husband, and rocking like a baby, pretty much exactly where he'd wanted to be. So, if this was a sign of the apocalypse, then Stretch was ready for his handbasket, because he’d ride in it all the way to hell if it meant he got to stay in Edge’s arms.

-finis-

[missinnocentscarlet-archived]

✿

Send me symbols to learn more about my muse| ACCEPTING |

@antonverloc

Send ✿ for a happy memory.

Air as crisp as the fallen leaves crunched quietly under the teen’s white canvas sneakers as she desperately tried to quietly traverse the yard she was trespassing in.  Although she had been invited by her friend, his parents had no knowledge of her presence, and she hoped to keep it that way as nimble hands grasped for branches on the tall, old tree who’s branches reached a stretch of roof that lead directly to Tristan’s open bedroom window.  

She questioned her sanity as her heart rattled erratically against her ribs with adrenaline and anxiety, but her friend had reassured her that he knew his parent’s sleep patterns better than he knew his own class schedule; so long as their timing was accurate, they would not be caught.  She trusted him, lord knows why, and so with trembling limbs she lifted her weight off of the ground, contorting her body like a spider as she crawled up the tree.  Her fingers began to grow numb, and the pale girl couldn’t tell if it was because of how anxious she was, or because of the whistling winds that shook the branches around her, whipping her hair around so they clung to the branches like webs.   With shaking legs she stepped onto and shimmied across the roof and climbed into his window, w h e e z i n g as she let out a breath she hadn’t been aware she was holding.  

❝Scarlet!❞   A familiar excited, yet hushed voice called out to her.  It was the quietest she had ever heard Tristan, and it nearly startled her when a head of messy blonde hair popped out from under a blanket fort that enclosed the area from the TV in his room to the foot of his bed.  His smile was wide, without a hint of cruelty, and in an instant she seemed to forget about the cold and rather dangerous stunt she just pulled as her own expression warmed at his greeting.  ❝Under here!  I’ve got the VHS Player all hooked up, so we’re ready to go.❞

She simply nodded, breathing into her cupped hands to warm them up before crawling into his small but comfortable fort built from pillows and flannel blankets.  

❝What are we watching?❞  she whispered.

❝The Thing,❞  he beamed with a single finger pointed in the air, ❝John Carpenter’s version, of course.  Ah, a man after my own heart, he is.❞ The hand in the air then fell to his chest as he glanced upwards longingly, suppressing the urge to laugh at his own jokes.

She shook her head, squinting at him.  ❝Isn’t that a horror movie?  Is it really a smart idea to watch such a flick when we have to be quiet?❞  

❝Ehhhhhh, it’s f i n e,❞  he waved his hand about, dismissing her worry nonchalantly as he pressed play before slumping back into the pile of pillows, ❝ so long as you don’t scream we should be fine; my parent’s usually sleep through mine.❞

❝Have you ever heard me scream?❞  She rolled her eyes and scoffed, acting insulted by his insinuation that she was easily scared. 

❝Never; sometimes I question if you’re a robot,❞  he looked at her with a cheesy grin, before tapping his chin in contemplation,  ❝Buuuuuuut it miiiiight almost be worth getting in trouble just to get a strong reaction out of you.❞

She gently pushed his head, ruffling his hair as she did so while offering him a quiet laugh.  ❝ Just shut up and watch the movie.❞

[seijuurouxryuu]

Yamamoto Being Yamamoto

Rating: G Relationship: None Characters: Sawada Tsunayoshi, Gokudera Hayato, Yamamoto Takeshi, Reborn, Dino, Byakuran, Yuni Warning: None

Day 3: Observant 

There was a reason why Yamamoto was said to be a natural born hitman.

AO3

There was a reason why Yamamoto was said to be a natural born hitman. The teen has keen eyes and sharp instinct, which most knew but that wasn't exactly the reason why. It was because he was too observant. While it was true that he can come across as dense and an airhead sometimes, but he notices things. He notices minor details that most overlook. (Which was probably why he was the leader of the scouting department.) Even Gokudera acknowledged it after years knowing him.

It made him deadlier, if the sliver-haired man was to be honest as he watched the taller man laugh at whatever a group of girls that surrounded him were saying. Being a natural born hitman was already dangerous, topping up with a really good acting skill, one wouldn't even know what hit them when he strikes. Perhaps that was why Reborn chose him to be one of the guardians years ago.

Taking a slow sip on his champagne, Gokudera scanned the crowd, taking note that Tsuna was beside Reborn. It was an annual ball for the mafiosi, held each year with rotating host Famiglia. A time where they forget their ranking and feud with one another and mingle. Although, that motive never really work. People are too stuck up to forget it.

This year, it was hosted by Milliefiore and as usual, Gokudera and Yamamoto had accompanied Tsuna. Usually either Chrome or Mukuro would follow as well, but not this year. Not when there was a rumour about an attack happening. No one knew who was the target, nor who was going to be the attacker, but it was a threat nonetheless. Milliefiore almost had to cancel the ball because no one could find out who it was but decided against it. Probably to drag out whoever who planned it.

Byakuran and Yuni had seeked out for the Vongola's assistance, so there they were. Chrome and Mukuro had been sent to scout the area while Reborn, who came as an independent kept an eye out inside. Plus, even though he has no bond or contract with Vongola, he wouldn't abandon Tsuna when it comes down to it. Not that the brunette need any protection.

Which was probably why Gokudera weren't even beside his boss, since he needed to keep an eye out. The three of them had spreaded across the room, with each on the opposite end of each other.

"Gokudera!" Yamamoto grinned and waved at him. He clicked his tongue as the other slung and arm over his shoulder. He didn't attempt to shove it off as it doesn't really work. Yamamoto was a clingy person with a tight grip. Not to mention that he was tapping out a code.

"Man! Those girls are funny!" He laughed, not breaking from his tapping. 'Code Red: Bomb implanted somewhere in this room.'

"Yeah, fun." Gokudera gritted out, feeling himself tensing slightly at that. Yamamoto's flames immediately calmed him down discreetly just so they wouldn't bring attention to themselves. "You really enjoyed giggling along with those girls." 'I don't think there was a specific target.'

"Ahaha! Are you jealous?" 'It might be a plan to kill as many big Houses in here.'

"Hah?! Like hell I'm jealous! They're disgusting, ergh." Gold-diggers. All of them. But that wasn't Gokudera's concern at the moment.

Yamamoto grinned and finally, Gokudera shoved him off with a snarl. He grabbed him by the collar and pulled him close. "Get away from me. I'll blast your head off if you come anywhere near me." And he stalked off as Yamamoto shrugged, fixing his suit and appearance when he let him go.

It was all for a show.

Gokudera immediately walked around the ballroom, slowly sauntering as he acted as though he hated Yamamoto and his guts and all. He was over that, no longer the short-fused teen he was towards the other. He actually respect Yamamoto and could get along with him, just as long as he doesn't piss Gokudera off. He did that just so no one would be suspect anything.

He was actually searching for the said bomb. He'd had to find it fast. The night was slowly coming to an end, and the bomb could blow anytime soon. He had to dispose it. Fast.

Frowning, he stopped by the window and glanced up.

He left the room all together.

"Heyy Tsuna!" Yamamoto draped across Tsuna making the brunette stumble. Tsuna laughed at his friend's antic, not the slightest angered even though the other had interrupted his conversation with a Don from another Famiglia. The said Don wasn't so happy, but he did a rather good job at hiding it.

"Takeshi! Are you having fun?" Yamamoto nodded, humming. "Everything is so nice. Don and Donna Milliefiore has done a really good job!" Tsuna agreed cheerfully. "Ah right, it would be your Famiglia's turn next year to host, isn't it, Don Marian?" Don Marian nodded. "It is. We won't lose to Don and Donna Milliefiore in terms of extravagant!"

Tsuna chuckled good heartily. "Of course! We'll be looking forward to it."

As the two Don chatted, with Tsuna distracting the other, Yamamoto sneaked a look with Reborn, who was quiet the whole time. A glint of irritation flashed in his obsidian eyes, but his facial expression didn't change. As on cue, the hitman's phone rang and he excused himself. The Don was none the wiser, too caught up chatting with Tsuna to realize anything. Not even when Yamamoto detached himself, grabbing a champagne from the butler and lingered behind the brunette.

Until, that is, a loud explosion followed by shrieks outside of the ballroom. Everyone jolted and turned to the front door where the sound came from. Another loud thud resonated in the room before the door opened and Gokudera's head popped out. He looked a bit singed. He smiled brightly and said, "Please don't mind the noise! Everything is fine! Please, enjoy your night!" And he popped back out, door closing.

Everyone blinked, dumbfounded. Byakuran, from where he was at the center of the ballroom clapped his hand to gather their attention. "Well, we've heard the man! Let's enjoy the night to the fullest!" Since the boss of Milliefiore declared that it was nothing, everyone returned to their conversation, all none the wiser. Maybe except for the Milliefiore and Yamamoto. Tsuna as well, since he decided to cut short his conversation with Don Marian.

"Takeshi, what's going on?" He whispered, standing closer to the taller man.

Yamamoto, who was stifling his laughter since the beginning coughed loudly and harshly. Tsuna gave him a raised eyebrow as he patted his back. "Pftt- Nothing. Gokudera will fill you in later." Tsuna frowned but decided not to pry when Yamamoto waved his hand dismissively.

"Well alright. Let's go find Dino-san and Yuni." And they did. The three Skies soon chattered and laugh about whatever came in mind, more relaxed around each other. Yamamoto lingered back as well, smiling and answering when addressed. It wasn't long before the three of them totally forgot his presence in the midst of a heated discussion about their subordinates- or co-boss, in Yuni's case- shenanigans.

Reborn came back and they switched. The hitman rolled his eyes upon meeting Yamamoto's gaze as he fell into position beside Tsuna as the Rain fell back and made a beeline out of the ballroom.

The moment he saw Gokudera, he laughed again, obnoxious and loud. Gokudera snarled at him, but did not stop kicking the poor victim, who seemed charred even though the man had already passed out. "Shut up."

Yamamoto shook his head as he walked over. When he was close enough, he crouched down and pulled the head back to see the face, Gokudera backing away. He whistled. "Never knew the Marian got guts to do this."

Gokudera squinted his eyes at the man. "You already knew, didn't you?" He hissed. Yamamoto merely smiled innocently up at him. "Ugh, should've known." Yamamoto shrugged as he stood up. "Well, then. Shall we escort the man out?" His eyes glinted, Gokudera twitched.

Honestly, he should've known that Yamamoto had already know who it was. That man was too observant not to notice. Gokudera need another drink.

A/N= Ehhhhhh you can exactly tell when I lost any motivation and just winged it.

The guy Gokudera was kicking wasn't Don Marian but his subordinates. The Marian is a medium sized Famiglia and wanted to overpower the other strong houses.

Gokudera had went to find the bomb while Reborn went to drag out the culprit.

The bomb was diffused, of course. The culprit was charred because of Gokudera's dynamite. Gokudera was a bit singed because he almost got electrocuted. (Pst, the bomb is on the roof.)

[I apologize for any grammar, spelling, etc. etc. mistakes]

[ameasureofpower]

Ship Posting

Tagged by: @epistaxisxjensen Tagging: @onearmedsurvivor, @lightschampion, @big-shoes-to-fill (in general, yo), @tailblinking, @the-lord-of-light, WHAT’S YOUR OTP FOR YOUR MUSE?:  No one. He does not seem to have the time or care to keep a loved one. I really don't think Deus Ex has a big harbor in general, if you know what I'm saying. The waters are much too rough for sailing. WHAT ARE YOU WILLING TO RP WHEN IT COMES TO SHIPPING?:  Pretty much anything from domestic sweetness to tearful angst to rukus adventures in the bedroom...or elsewhere. HOW LARGE DOES THE AGE GAP HAVE TO BE TO MAKE IT UNCOMFORTABLE?: Hmm. I'm interpreting ships as romantic btw... I don't know. Legalities aside I guess it depends on the muse. With Walton, ugh, that one end of the world scenario aside, I think he'd prefer a serious partner within 10 years of his own age. Casually, the age gap much more relaxed, but he's hardly interested in pursuing those. ARE YOU SELECTIVE WHEN SHIPPING?:  Hmm. I think so? I really don't ship all that much in general? Again it would depend on the muse and on RP interaction. Pax could have gone with anyone with enough positive interaction. Walton could go with...naw nvm he's picky. HOW FAR DO STEAMY MOMENTS HAVE TO GO BEFORE THEY’RE CONSIDERED NS.FW?: Probably when the hands or lips start wandering off...or when one starts pulling out the vocabulary you keep from the young. I'd put such under read more or request a fade to black or a private rp in any case, no worries. WHO ARE OTHER MUSES YOU SHIP YOUR MUSE WITH?: *Squints at Walton. Squints at certain people* ...ehhhhhh. There are only potentials so far, but again he's...really not paramore material. It would be a trip for sure though. DOES ONE HAVE TO ASK TO SHIP WITH YOU?: No. In fact don't speak of it at all ooc. (I mean you can but ehhhh). Let the characters do the work. If something happens then something happens. Not saying it will always work out but im also not saying its impossible.........(*winks across time and space...also I still can't think of Folgers coffee without facepalming. You.*) HOW OFTEN DO YOU LIKE TO SHIP?:  Unless the medium is a romance, romance is always a secondary if not tertiary concern for me. So schme. ARE YOU MULTISHIP?:  Unless there is a very clear AU/crossover verse distinction (ex: WS in a ME verse might be the boy toy to an OC asari matriarch (yes, good) while WS in Dishonoured might just be a complete jackass to some OC servant) - No. I prefer exclusiveness and to be exclusive. This applies to past, present, and future muses. ARE YOU SHIP OBSESSED OR SHIP MORE-OR-LESS?:  What is this? More or less? But I also adore the ships I actually do have? WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE SHIP IN YOUR CURRENT FANDOM? Again, Deus Ex has troubled waters. I guess I'll just go with Icarus and Dedalus. I mean, they did MERGE to create Helios...their son. *win-bricked* FINALLY, HOW DOES ONE SHIP WITH YOU? Become friends with me and we'll make it a game. Have your character hit on my muse and observe the reaction. Vice versa. Who knows where it'd go.

[whore4batfam]

Moo-moo is legit the cutest name. Like I will totally call you that. Moo-moo.

Yaasss thank you!! I shall be Moo-Moo with my cow brown eyes~

Here’s your present, Rebecca!

The following bit is a continuation to Strikeout, originally cut because of its serious turn of events (I wanted to stick to one genre)

"I can do it myself!" a young voice rang from the cave.

"Sit still," came the low murmur in response.

"No!"

"If you don't sit still, it'll take longer."

"Good! Then you'll give up and I'll do it myself."

"I don't give up."

"Neither do I."

"Damian, sit still."

"If you don’t let me do it, I will bite you.”

"Damian Wayne."

Damian heeded the warning tone and sat back. It wasn't defeat. It was conceding to a point.

His father was making efficient work of his knuckles once Damian had stopped evading him. The silence between the two was peaceful, almost. The cave lights were still too bright for comfort. The child squinted, lowering his head. He still felt nauseous.

"You should have asked for help," Bruce commented after moving on to dab the split lip.

The boy mistook the concern for scolding. "Didn't need to," he grumped. "I eliminate my problems. I will exact vengeance on that bureau. Besides, no one was home. I could do it.”

Bruce hummed in thought. He tipped his son's chin and analyzed his face. "You've got a concussion," he told him seriously. Blue eyes met blue. The man was reminded how similar they looked. Lucius Fox had remarked on it earlier that week, citing a certain other little boy who had “stubborn” as his middle name.

"No, I don't," Damian negated, drawing away from the large hand. "I have a black eye."

"You have that as well." Bruce leaned forward to dab at the blood under his son’s nose.

“I don’t need help!” Damian spat suddenly, catching the hand. “I don’t need it!”

Bruce stared at him. The man remained quiet while the child grumbled, wincing at the synthetic lights. “I know,” he replied softly.

“I did it on my own for a long time. I can do this by myself.”

“I know.”

“I don’t need…” he trailed off. He absentmindedly tugged on the large hand.

Damian looked small. Damian was small, Bruce acknowledged. The child had been given his age status prior to his death, but his height and weight were thus on the lower side of average. And to think the boy had been taking care of himself for many years. Bruce was aware of the League of Shadow's protocol. He was aware of what Damian had been forced to do, forced to see. Things no child should ever have to, let alone his child.

He gently squeezed the tiny, scarred hand.

"I know," he told him, stronger this time. Bruce ran a hand through his son's dark hair, smoothing over the knots. "I want to give it to you."

The man smiled, a rare and blessed event. But his smile was sad.

Damian turned away, swallowing. He gazed at the exit, caverns spiraling into darkness. It would be so easy... 

He did not want pity. He did not want disappointment. Most of all, he did not want his father's sorrow.

He wanted to give his family more than that.

“I want to help, Father,” he mumbled, black eye shining in the bright synthetic lights. “Let me help.”

Bruce stared at him. He swallowed. He raised a hand to reach over but then--

“For the sake of all humanity—” His son yanked at the cell and drawled, “Helloooo, Sandra.” After a moment Damian gazed distastefully at his father, delivering the phone back to him. “She hung up,” he apprised the man. “Very rude. I would fire her if I were you. Proper etiquette does not lose its value through time. You can inform her I said that. ”

Bruce nearly chuckled. His phone hadn’t beeped. Ringing in the ears, another symptom the child exhibited. “Time for bed, Damian,” he said warmly. Damian opened his mouth. “No,” Bruce interrupted, “The answer is no. You have a concussion. Bed. Right now.”

The ten year old sent a dirty look in his direction but complied, swaying to and fro as he made his way up the stairs.

ehhhhhh it needs more polishing (and less fluff) for me to be satisfied with it NOW in ‘17, but back in ‘15 it was considered good to me. I hope you like it anyhow!

[reallifepotato]

how do you like this untalented fuck (me) now

[kari-izumi]

It's funny you say that, because I just watched this movie for the first time last night (it's streaming on Netflix right now) cuz why not...

...and like Ghostbusters (another UO, which is why I didn't shit bricks over the remake), I found this was way overrated. Like, if I squint, I can understand why it took off cuz I've been told teen movies were even more topical until this one came along, but the characters....ehhhhhh. I dunno how old Emilio Estevez actually was when that movie was filmed but he looked like he was pushing 30 back then, along with the bloke casted as Bender.

That twist about the nerd getting detention for having a gun at school--even just a flare gun--is either highly dated or ahead of its time, and I'm not sure which.

I can't believe no one has asked the real question yet. If the paladins were the breakfast club, who's who? The Princess, the Criminal, the Brain, the Athlete, and the Basketcase.

They’d be nobody because that’s a BAD MOVIE and I HATE IT (hot take I know)

[cupcakeshakesnake]

Watching SU for the first time: Season 3 ep 1~5

(Woohoo, Season 3 already! I’m catching up!)

Super Watermelon Island

-IT’S THE FUCKING WATERMELON STEVEN FROM SEASON 1 OMFG

-THERE’S A FUCKING WATERMELON DOG

-THERE’S A WHOLE FUCKINH VILLAGE OF THEM

-THEY’RE FARMING THEMSELVES

-IT’S A NEW FUCKING SPECIES

-DAFUQ

-MALACHITE

-ARE THEY WORSHIPPING MALACHITE WTF

-WHAT A GREAT START TO A NEW SEASON

-AND BY GREAT I MEAN CHAOTIC

-WHAT

-IT WAS A DREAM

-THIS SHOW IS FUCKING WITH MY MIND

-ALEXANDRITE

-holy shit that second mouth

-HOLY FUCK SHE SPITS FIRE

-LITERALLY

-SHIT WENT DOWN

-HOLY FUCK

-I like how the dad watermelon stays at home

-HOLY FUCK THAT BATTLE

LIKE SERIOUSLY DAMN FUCKING HELL

-uh oh where did jasper go

-BUT WHAT WAS GARNET GOING TO SAY

Gem Drill

-”...and Steven... We love you.”

-THERE IT IS

-”We have a drill. We’re going to drill.”

-DAMMIT SHE’S CRYING

-FEELS

-WHAT THE FUCK

-HAND

-WHAT THE FUCK

-THE FUCKING GAME CONTROLLER

-”If I could just bubble them, then... they’d be safe.”  YEAH HAVE FUN SURVIVING OUTSIDE THAT DRILL POD IN THE HOT MOLTEN ROCK

-WHAT THE FUCK

-EVERY TIME THIS SHOW FUCKS WITH ME LIKE THIS I REMEMBER HOW ITS FIRST EPISODE WAS ABOUT COOKIE ICE CREAM AND I JUST

-WHAT THE FUCK

-WHAT THE FUCK

-IS THIS SOME UNDERTALE AMALGAMATE SHIT

-WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS TRIPPING SHIT

-FUCKING HELL

-I MEAN, HAPPY ENDING AND ALL, BUT THOSE ARE PIECE OF DEAD PEOPLE WITH THEIR SOULS CONTINUOUSLY CRYING FOR HELP, IMPRISONED IN THEIR INCOMPLETE BODIES, NEVER LAYING TO REST

-HOLY FUKC

-REMINDS ME OF THAT ONE DOCTOR WHO EPISODE WHERE THE EARTH’S CORE WAS LITERALLY AN EGGSAC OF GIANT SPIDER PEOPLE

Same Old World

-Somehow I feel as if Peridot’s hair got bigger

-LAPIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIS

-CATERPILLAR SLEEPING BAG

-”I have seen what goes on in there.”  Peridot, what have you seen...

-lapis?!?!

-well that was some fast climbing

-awwww

-AWW

-”Empire City”  Is that the equivalent of New York city in this universe?

-”Hey, what’s that shadowy place over there?”  YOU MUST NEVER GO THERE, SIMBA.

-aww they’re having fun

-THE MUSIC IS SO PRETTY AND THEY’RE SO HAPPY I CAN LITERALLY FEEL MY SOUL HEALING ALL THOSE WOUNDS IT RECEIVED FROM ALL THOSE PREVIOUS EPISODES

-YOU KNOW WHAT, CANCEL THAT

-BISMUTH?

-THIS SHOW IS HURTING ME AND THEN HEALING ME AND THEN HURTING ME AGAIN

-”o boi”

Barn Mates

-YEAH I’M SURE THE DIVIDING LINE WORKED OUT GREAT

-I like how the animation got smoother.

-STEVEN HAVE YOU BEEN WATCHING ANIME AGAIN

-”WHERE ARE OUR NOSES”

-”I’M JUST BAD AT DRAWING HANDS”

she’s like that older sister who’s annoyed at everything

when an ad covers your face.

-Gotta love how Lapis totally ignores Peridot but when Steven calls she’s like YES STEVEN WHAT IS IT THAT I CAN DO FOR YOU

-aND sTEVEN JUST NODDING ALONG WITH pERIDOT EVEN THOUGH he can’t understand her thought process

-WATER EYEPATCHES

-EYEBANDS

-”H2O my gosh”  PERIDOT YOU SPENT TOO MUCH TIME AROUND ETEVEN

-DRAMATIC LAPIS IS DRAMATIC

-*complains about how much she hates water*  *flies away on water wings*

someone who hasn’t watched SU explain this

-also, watching SU is like a continuation of constantly alternating between crying and laughing

-The awkwardness.... I can feel it

-SAVAGE LAPIS

-idk she must be pretty strong if she can crush a tape recorder made of metal

-”And she’s never coming back again.”  “aaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA”

-DAFUQ

-GUYS the sky brightened when Lapis’s mood lifted.  The sky was cloudy before.  CLOUDS ARE MADE OF WATER.

screenshot because epic

Hit the Diamond

-IT’S THE BASEBALL EPISODE ISN’T IT

-I’VE BEEN SEEING IT ALL OVER

-WHAT’S WITH THAT ONE OVERDRAMATIC NINJA RUBY

-AND THE ONE WHO’S LIKE ‘WHAT A LOVELY PLANET’

running on all fours

-”casual”

-”CASUAL”

-*FINGER QUOTING INTENSIFIES*

-GOD DAMMIT RUBY SHE SAID “CASUAL” NOT “SCREAM AT EVERYONE THAT YOU’RE A SPY”

-”This plan sucks.”  TOTALLY A SULKING TEENAGER

-EARL

-AMY  AMETHYST’S SERIOUS FACE OMFG

-BOB

-SOPHIE

-BOB

MEET THIS HUMAN BLUE ALIEN FROM OUTER SPACE WHO IS THOUSANDS OF YEARS OLD, HAS SEEN MANY THINGS, CAN CONTROL WATER TO HER WILL, ACTS LIKE AN ANGSTY TEEN, AND IS VERY TIRED OF THIS SHIT

-where did they get all those outfits anyway

-oh yeah right they can change their outfits at will they’re gems

-OHHH SO THAT’S HOW BASEBALL WORKS

-THIS IS THE FIRST TIME I’VE LEARNED SO MUCH ABOUT BASEBALL

-THANKS STEVEN

-MY KNOWLEDGE OF BASEBALL HAS GONE FROM ABSOLUTE ZERO TO THANKS TO YOU

-nonononno but wait if the guy with the glove is sitting right behind the batter won’t he get hit by mistake sometimes

-don’t people accidentally get hit by bats in baseball or something

-and isn’t it extremely hard to hit that small ball with an equally thin bat, i mean the diameter of the bat is about as wide as the ball is. In badminton the racket is much wider than the shuttlecock but it’s still hard to hit?? for me anyway?? you have to be super duper precise to play baseball???

-how baseball work

-not to mention that one of my childhood fears was getting beaten up with a baseball bat

-I’M FUCKING DYING LAPIS IS STANDING THERE SQUINTING LIKE ‘EHHHHHH WHAT IS THAT IMMA NOT EVEN TRY YEP THERE IT GOES BYE LOL’

-AMETHYST YOU’’RE NOT SUPPOESD TO YUSE MAG IXCX

-DAMMIT RUBY SAPPHIRE I ACKOWLEDGE THAT YOU’RE CUTE TOGETHER BUT CAN YOU PLEASE KEEP YOUR FLIRTING TO YOURSELVES FOR JUST THIS ONCE

-LAPIS AIN’T EVEN TRYING

-WAIT

YOU FINALLY DID SOMETHING LAPIS CONGRATULATIONS

-and I have no idea how to read that score chart either

-I sometimes get baseball score related questions in my math book and I’m always like ‘??? what the fuck is this game?? does everyone play with a calculator in hand or some shit?? what?????’

-I SWEAR THE RULES OF BASEBALL WERE INVENTED BY SOMEONE WITH WAY TOO MUCH TIME ON THEIR HANDS

-smooth af, Sapphire.

-pls don’t fuse

-COVER BLOWN

-”HAHAHA HA ha oops”

-wow that is a huge ass Ruby

smol cate.

-”Man, Rubies are dumb.”

-BEST EPISODE FH38448TYQ38QV3H OUTTA QWROTIU4;C;WHATEVER