#i think hed want to do something with his hands even in retirement to keep himself busy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

emet-selch-apologism · 1 year ago

Note

Morose/Pelle: 2, 5, 17, 28

Void: 3, 8, 20, 31, 37

Nu/Vil: 1, 14, 26, 34, 38

dnd ask meme

i got up out of bed to answer this on my pc so dedicated am i to talking about my most special boys

going under read more because its gonna be long <3 ALSO adding images of everyone to hopefully make it easier to tell whos who

Morose/Pelle

left: pelle right: morose

2. What does saving a person involve?

morose and pelle are of one mind on this, that they cant really "save" a person unless they want to be saved. so their strategy would be less about them swooping in to save the day and more about being there to help the save-ee get out of a bad situation. this is MUCH more pelles purview than moroses though, hes more of a "provide resources and encouragement without being asked" kind of guy whereas morose is more of a "im not gonna push you but im here if you want to talk about it" kind of guy.

5. What is your PC’s idle animation?

for morose itd probably be him taking out his grimoire and taking notes in it. its a grimoire first and foremost, but he also uses the margins as a scientific journal if he doesnt have one of his dedicated notebooks on hand

pelle would keep it simple, probably just doing some small turns so his sleeves swish around. or probably any other gentle motion, like rocking or swaying

(the sleeves ^)

17. What are your PCs favorite fruits (not including gay people)

each other

morose likes apples. probably has something to do with how long he was a teacher for, his students DEFO would occasionally give him apples before or after class

pelle cant pick a favorite, hes so jazzed about all of the food that mortals produce and eat and cook. he loves all food

28. When your PCs want comfort, what do they seek out?

each other

other than each other though

for morose, hed try to involve himself in his hobbies. this literally always means doing research and science and alchemy. hes been autistic about the arcane sciences for 200+ years and hes not gonna stop now

for pelle, who is very well adjusted, it usually means doing one of the hundreds of mortal hobbies he picked up in his retirement, or taking a walk and appreciating the worlds beauty, or talking to one of the zombie kids he takes care of, or meditating

generally speaking though when they need comfort both of them immediately turn to the other

Void

3. How would your PC describe themselves?

void is pretty difficult to get the gist of because their setting is so specific, but i will try my best

i dont think void knows how to describe themself. they basically just manifested into existence with full sapience and no identity. their entire character arc revolves around them trying to figure out who they are, wanting to be a person but convinced that they have no choice to be oasis (the dead god theyre the reincarnation of).

they dont even know that theyre a god yet.

since they have no sense of identity as a person, i dont think theyd try to describe themselves like one. theyd probably describe themselves as "the tear" (a rift in the sky between the material plane and a mysterious higher plane that no one has ever gone to, which is believed to be the source of all the Big Problems in the setting) or "the neverplane" (said Problem Plane). they might call themselves an etherbeing (a creature formed from the ether in the neverplane which consumes the ether of mortals on the material plane), but that wouldnt be totally accurate.

8. How decisive is your PC?

EXTREMELY indecisive. despite thinking its futile void wants nothing more than to fight their nature and just be a normal person, so any decision they have to make has to go through both their God Thoughts and then their Normal Person Thoughts. and, more often than not, these two sides are at odds with each other making it hard to decide pretty much anything. theyll freeze up if they think too long about any decision they have to make

20. What type of chocolate do they prefer?

theyve never tried eating food before. i dont think they could even if they wanted to. but if they could i think theyd like white chocolate best

31. What’s your favorite part of playing your PC?

I GET TO BE SOOO AUTISTIC. void is so autistic and i get to completely unmask and call it rp

actually though my favorite part of playing void isnt even rping as them at the table, its planning for future sessions and getting to go so deep into their psychology. the way ive set up godhood in the setting inherently poses a LOT of existential questions about the gods, and void is even more complicated because they want to fight against their godhood. theyre a lot of fun to explore mentally

37. What flower represents your PC?

so funny you ask this one for them because void is the only character of these five that has an actual in game lore related flower motif! glowing white dahlias! they spring up in significant places void has been to, they bloom out of the dust left behind by dead etherbeings, they can create them at will, etc.

Nuvia/Vilereth

(nuvia controls the left side, vilereth controls the right)

1. Does your PC believe it’s possible to save someone?

vilereth does. hes not usually inclined to do so (the only people hes tried to save is nuvia and nuvias sister elizabeth) but he thinks its possible to. he also probably thinks its a lot easier than it actually is. hes incredibly overconfident in his own abilities

nuvia is more of a tossup. i think usually he doesnt think its possible to save people (if he could have been saved then why didnt anyone save him from the cult who put a demon in his body). but if pushed hes still willing to try. but the list of people hed be willing to risk himself to save is very very short

14. How does your PC feel about white lies?

vilereth is lying all the time its his favorite thing to do. he loves to tell lies. he doesnt even do it maliciously (for the most part) he just thinks its funny. but he loves it he loooves lying

nuvia also doesnt care about lying. he doesnt go out of his way to do it the way vilereth does, but hes a very smooth liar (lots of practice) and he thinks that sometimes its just what has to be done so who cares? hes probably even a better liar than vilereth

26. How would your PC answer the trolley problem?

neither of them would flip the switch.

vilereth wouldnt see it as his problem. he wouldnt really care and he wouldnt see himself as involved in the situation unless he flips the switch, and hed rather not get involved if he can help it.

nuvia has a similar outlook. hed at least be tempted to flip the switch so only one person gets killed, but ultimately agrees that hes not involved unless he does. if he did hed see himself as responsible for one persons death, and he already has more than enough stress to deal with.

34. Is your PC an effective communicator? What is their communication style?

oh god no.

vilereth is always lying and making jokes to keep people at a safe distance. hes so averse to being vulnerable that he didnt even have a non antagonistic conversation with nuvia for 5 months after they were fused. even now that they get along (theyre gay btw) trying to get him to be open and honest is like pulling teeth

nuvia is also Not Good at communication. hes less afraid of vulnerability than vilereth is, but hes so completely conflict averse its insane. hed rather bottle up everything until he dies than have a slightly uncomfortable conversation even once.

38. How did you choose your PC’s name?

they were initially just one guy who i named vilereth from a yafnag pull. then when i made them two people i did another yafnag pull and got nuvia

#ask #Anonymous #wall spaghetti #HEEHGEE THANK YOU FOR ASKING ABOUT MY SPECIAL BOYS

2 notes · View notes

pwnyta · 4 years ago

Text

OK GONNA GRIPE!! Everyone in the world (like 5-6 people) said im allowed to and encouraged me but honestly most of my gripes are Bakugo as a character so I’ll try a little fix it... it will be under the cut.

BUT GRIPES-

The Sports Festival. I loved it... I thought it was great with some exceptions-

Bakugo v Uraraka is the most obvious example of Horikoshi bending characters to make Bakugo seem better than he is. Literally the whole festival no one says shit about the female contestants, its not a plot point, no ones bothered when Tokoyami vs Momo happens but Bakugo fights Uraraka and the whole ass stadium starts running their mouths about Bakugo being kind of an asshole and being mean to Uraraka cuz shes a soft girl even though shes holding her own and Momo panicked and lost in a sad way.

Bakugo attacked Shouto after knocking him out but he doesnt get disqualified. Even if Horikoshi wanted to set up the LoV targeting him he coulda just had them see the footage of Bakugo attacking Todo and his reaction to disqualification and figuring that hed be more willing to turn coat.

The relationships with Endeavor with Shoto and All Might is one of those things that seems like its going to be a set up for something... But never goes anywhere. All Might hadnt spoke to Endeavor for years before that moment when he asks Endeavor for advice on how to train kids because he was impressed with Shoutos performance but Endeavors like ‘I’ll turn him into someone who can surpass you thats why I MADE HIM‘ and All Mights like ‘wtf? wat‘ but it goes no where...

//end Sports festival kinda...

I have so many issues with how Horikoshi built Shouto as a character to be like on the same level as Deku and Bakugo but hes not apart of that group. Their connection as kids is All Might... Shouto should have learned about one for all and the three of them should grow together more.

IDKY Shouto has this past where All Might is his hero, hes one of the big three, but hes excluded.

All im saying is Shouto (and honestly Bakugo) could have used a lot more screen time.

----

During the training camp arc Tokoyami loses control of his Quirk and almost kills a handful of his classmates and is also grabbed by the LoV with Bakugo... and it NEVER COMES UP AGAIN.

Of course the traitor plot line thats ignored for a million years only to be brought up again just to say it never actually mattered... is another one of those ‘This was a good set up for something and you did nothing with it...‘ situation. I still think Kouda is possible. Theres no reason the Principal is an animal... theres no reason why Kouda could be able to pass the entrance exam where Shinso couldnt they basically have the same Quirk. Kouda is quiet and unassuming and he can communicate very easily in secret and could theoretically control Nezu and make him say shit like ‘Theres no war in Ba Sing Se‘ and everyone would just accept it.... But like its been so long why even bother... itd be weird.

Honestly Shinsos whole... thing is also weird. But he was brought back for... like no real pay off. His tragic story doesnt even make sense... people mocking him for having a ‘villains’ Quirk... this is similar to the Bakugo/Uraraka thing. Because thats not a thing... we dont see that literally anywhere else. I mean Shouji mentions that people think his face is a little scary but thats it. There are pros with scary Quirks and even scarier looks, Tokoyami has a literal sentient DARKNESS living in him and a bird face.... but Shinso has problems? Really.

The same can be said about the CRC. Theres a whole hate group youve created to bring up to make Spinner a little more sympathetic but its never been mentioned before or since even though there are characters in the main crew with animal/creature characteristics. Again Tokoyami is right there.

Kirishima is a weird character to have made as prominent as he is because hes got literally no connection to the main story. Shouto shoulda had his screentime. I love Kirishima and his little story with Fatgum and fighting that big bitch was fucking bitchin... but like? Why Kirishima... also whats with Crimson Riot? What does he or Kirishima have to do with anything.

Shouto has the connections. It shoulda been Shouto.

How the fuck did Hawks get away with tricking the LoV with a fake body of Best Jeanist? Why not just have Hawks kill him... it makes more sense and it helps build a case for the corrupt hero society(or at least the higher ups) a little if theyre willing to kill one of their own. I like Best Jeanist but its fucking weird.

And Ive already bitched enough about the corruption of hero society and the lack of evidence story-wise...

I genuinely thought something would go down with Tensei because him being attacked made no sense even though Stain is shown to be very consistent in his belief to the point of endangering himself as shown when he literally went out of his way to save Deku. So why the fuck did he attack Tensei when everything weve seen of the guy is just a good, considerate, selfless hero.

He could have also been used to set up the corruption BUT NOTHING COMES OF IT.

And I mean like some of this stuff could come up later... but its been drawn out so long its weird... a lot of this shit would likely have a continuous direct effect on the story at large if Horikoshi just didnt... ignore it.

NOW BAKUGO. But because everyone knows I hate him Im gonna put my money where my mouth is and try to make him a little better... Cuz hes fucking garbage.

OK First up... Keep him exactly how he is until this moment exactly-

This is the worst moment for me with Bakugo because I thought he looked like that because he was shocked at himself for doing something so fucked up.

Cuz he does want to be a hero and he looks up to All Might.

So after this moment he dials it back a little on the douchebaggery.... hes sorta more distant and still kind of a jerk but but hes more avoiding Deku/conflict until we get to the Sports Festival!

He cant help himself hes competitive and aggressive and the steeper the competition gets the more he falls back into being that hyper aggressive violent person he wants to not be.

The Sports Festival goes as expected and its not until after and he sees himself that he gets uncomfortable again and tries to mellow out again.

Then the practical exam happens and hes paired with Deku but instead of being needlessly antagonistic they actually DO work together... they can bicker and have different ideas of how to win but then get desperate by the end and actually work together cuz THIS-

WAS SO SHITTY. It didnt need to happen. Also earlier when Bakugo is being an asshole in class Aizawa fully acknowledges Bakugo going down a dark path... and does like nothing about it... (You cant really blame him... Baku gets away with everything.)

ANYWAYS. So they reluctantly work together and work well together... Bakugo still feels kinda shitty and annoyed that Deku is at his level..

When Bakugo gets snatched by the LoV I think could REALLY be the biggest turning point...

Instead of Bakugo just continuing on like he does maybe this would be a great moment for him to realize that dark path hes been on. The Villains speak to him and theyre like ‘youd be a great villain‘ and its like that scene in Dr Who when Nine flips out and screams at the last Dalek tells it to go and die... and the Dalek goes ‘Youd make a good Dalek‘ which just gut punches him.

Its like that Bakugo thinks about the shits hes been doing after the villains think they can convince him to join them, he thinks about All Might and his life long dream to be a hero and hes disturbed that he COULD be a villain.

They take off the cuffs... he attacks them as per usual but its not with that cocky attitude.

///Bakugo gets saved

He thanks Kirishima... and thanks the others. It can be a cute moment GDI!

The fight between Bakugo and Deku could be Bakugo asking Deku to spar. Thats what he wants. He wants to test the both of them and Deku agrees so when Aizawa gets pissed at them both ITS DESERVED instead of Aizawa punishing Deku for defending himself.

And that can still be the moment Bakugo has his little breakdown and blaming himself for All Mights retirement.

And then just go from there... Bakugos character development coulda been smooth

#BNHA ranting.

19 notes · View notes

talpup · 5 years ago

Text

Light In the Darkness:

So I got what I consider good news from my Doctor today. He wants to make a case study of me. Yes, I might being a boring introvert that might one day be a bionic woman with all my joints replaced; but at least doctors find me interesting. LOL. The study might not mean much for me directly; but it might help other doctors better understand and treat patients with both hEDS and RA, and other illnesses caused by what I call the two big bads. Considering I’ve seen doctors who literally had to look up what hEDS is, this is something I see as a BIG win. So here I am wanting to celebrate with you all but updating my three main fics. Apologies to Erase the Shadow readers, I don’t have a lot for you; I promise I’m not drawing out the AizawaxReaderxMic smut scene to tease. Anyway, here you all go. I hope these updates can share a portion of my happiness with you.

Please remember this fic is rated mature and has warnings of violence, abuse, sexual tension, eventual sexual behavior, and other possible triggers.

***If you prefer reading off AO3 here’s the link for that: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20887595/chapters/55633552

Thank you to those who have left hearts. And a special THANK YOU to those who have recently left comments or re-blogged. They really mean a lot.

Taglist: @captncappuccino

23.1

Teris awoke the morning before her birthday to the maids pulling open the drapes and letting in the cursed sunlight. Squinting, she looked around for Mistress Kleen then remember that the woman had left yesterday afternoon ill.

Just to be certain that the hateful woman hadn’t recovered and returned, Teris questioned trying to keep her hope in check. “Where’s Mistress?”

“Ill.” A maid said.

“Convalescing in her own home, bed bound. Another told.

“Yes!” Teris cheered jumping out of bed with an energy she hadn’t felt a second ago. At the maids startled expressions she sobered, dropping her raised arms. “I mean, I’m sorry and wish her a full recovery after my departure.”

The maid that had seen to her hair the previous morning fought a smile.

Teris clapped her hands once. “Thank you ladies, but you are no longer needed. Accept you.” She pointed at the tress maid. “I’d like you to stay if you’re willing.”

With a quick look back at her fellows she turned to Teris pointing to herself. “Me, my Lady?”

“That’s right. Unless you don’t wish to stay and help me appear presentable.”

“I’d be honored, my Lady.”

“Teris.” Teris said.

“My Lady Teris.”

“We’ll work on it. What’s your name?” Teris asked.

“Celine, my Lady Teris.”

“Everyone out. Celine and I have work to do.” She looked at the maid and told in all seriousness. “I need you to be bold and forceful with me, Celine. I must show that I am giving my maximum effort these next two days. It won’t be even half as good as Mistress Kleen could accomplish in me. But hopefully it will be enough to prove to my brother that I can be relied upon to make the attempt so he won’t ever call upon that horrid woman again.” She made her way to the vanity and sat. “Here’s hoping I’m never forced to wear a corset again.”

23.2

Joining the Silva’s and her brothers at the breakfast table in the morning room the four men rose from their seats.

“You’re late.” Fyntch told.

“I’m glad to see you encouraged our guest to begin without me brother.” Teris smiled lightly as she sat in the chair Julius pulled out for her. She turned to the Silva’s. “Lord Nathyn, I hope you and your family can forgive my tardiness. In all honestly, I couldn’t decide what to wear.”

Nozel smiled at her cheery mood and hoped that their time in the wee hours of the morning had played a part in her joy. While they hadn’t found anything of use, they had looked through quite a bit. Three of the five remaining shelves. They probably could have done a fourth shelf if they hadn’t taken the time to get a late night snack and tallied so in the kitchens talking. It had pleased him greatly to find that not only did they worked well together but when alone, and without a sense of familial pressure, Teris and he got along well and were comfortable just being who they were with each other.

“Your delay is acceptable.” Nathyn said inclining his head wondering at the change in the girl, but pleased nonetheless. “You are most becoming in our family’s colors. Wouldn’t you agree, Nozel? Lady Teris looks lovely this morning.”

“I have yet to find a color the Lady Teris is incapable of making look good, father.” Nozel told mindful of Teris’ feelings, turned his eyes to his father instead of her; an act, followed by such words would have undoubtedly upset her and ruined what they had achieved last night.

“You gentlemen and your fine words. You’ll make me blush.” Teris teased.

Julius’ quirked curiously as he looked at his sister out of the corner of his eye. While the conversation between Fyntch and Nathyn picked back up, Julius whispered to her. “You’re in a fine mood. I take it you found something.”

“Not a even a hint to a clue.” Teris whispered back keeping her smile in place.

“Then what’s with the proper lady act?” Julius wondered almost inquiring in jest if the zealots made another attempt at abducting her last night and replaced her with a transformation mage.

“You wound me brother.” Teris softly said over the rim of her glass of pear cider. “I am capable of such an act that rivals the finest ladies society has to offer. I just hate having to preform and so rarely choose to.”

“Very well.” Julius allowed. “Then why now?”

“Because,” she said giving Nebra the sweetest smile, “I refuse to have my ribs bruised and knuckles bloodied ever again.”

Julius scowled not understanding her meaning and wanting to demand who hurt her, his eyes flicking over to their brother. Even if Fyntch hadn’t been the one to harm their sister he would likely have known about it, if not ordered it.

Setting down the glass of cider Teris said. “Nebra, I know my expulsion and words against the Ladies League won me no favors with you but given that we will one day be sisters I was hoping you would do me the favor of teaching me a dance or two this afternoon. It doesn’t have to take overly long. Just enough to get me by so I don’t appear a complete fool during my birthday ball tomorrow.”

Lord Silva stopped speaking with Fyntch and looked over to his daughter. “Nebra.” He encouraged when she didn’t answer right away.

“But of course.” Nebra blinked her voice sounding strained. “I would love to. Anything for my future sister.” She turned to her brothers. “Nozel. Solid. You can join us.”

Nozel’s eyes slid to his sister wondering what she was up to. Whatever it was, he wasn’t going to let her ruin his returned closeness with Teris. “I would be happy to partner with you, Nebra.”

“You won’t be partnering with me silly. You are far too proficient to require my guidance. Where as Solid needs whatever help I can give him. No.” Nebra said. “You shall be partnering with your future bride.” She smiled violet eyes turning to Teris. “Think of it as practice for the big day.”

Teris’ smile tightened around the edges. “Lovely.”

23.3

After breakfast Julius, Fyntch, and Lord Silva retired to the study while the other four made their way to the ballroom.

Taking a seat Nathyn said to Julius. “I hope your father will be well enough to join us for lunch. He has gotten so thin.”

“He has.” Julius nodded and looked to his younger brother for answer.

“That’s right,” Nathyn said. “Forgive me, Julius. I sometimes forget you left your fathers care to your younger brother along with your heir ship.

“It was a difficult decision.” Julius said stiffly. “And though Fyntch undoubtedly faced his share of problems because of my decision, my efforts to become the next Wizard King has certainly afforded him and the family name a significant rise in power and esteem. I wonder Lord Silva. Have you noted any benefits due my accomplishments and your name being tied to ours with this intent to see Nozel and Teris wed?”

Choosing not to remind the younger man that he was head of House Silva, the second family of the kingdom, Nathyn smiled coolly. “None that your sisters actions haven’t undone.”

“If Teris is such an embarrassment why maintain the intent for your heir to be yoked to her?” Julius asked.

Fyntch glanced quickly at Nathyn.

Nathyn sat back and crossed his legs. “If I didn’t know better I’d think you were attempting to imply something there Julius. Thankfully, for the both of us and your poor sister who’d be hard pressed to find a suitable husband if I wasn’t a man of my word, I do know better. Since you have a history of showing little care for your family's troubles and well being when pitted against your own it may come as a surprise to you to find not everyone is like that. I stood by your family after Lady Resa died. Even when countless other noble and royal family's distanced themselves. It wasn’t that I never heard the rumors about Lord Jaxon attempting to follow his wife to her death. I simply chose not to believe them or care about the stigma even a mere rumor of such an act brought with it. A man such as yourself would, and practically did, cut ties with your family then and there. But as I said, I am a man of my word. After you abandoned your family to pursue your dreams I often visited and wrote Fyntch, offering my advice and ear to his troubles. It may sound strange given the age and general differences in life, him unwed and me a widowed father of four, but your brother and I became friends after a time. He was there for me during my own strife after Acier died giving us Noelle.” He soured at the thought of his youngest child. “Still, even without the bonds that life's trails forged between our families, Jaxon and I made a pledge to unite our houses in wedding his beloved and only daughter to my heir. In all my life, I have never failed to keep a vow I’ve made. As aberrant and difficult as your sister may be, I’m not about to let a girl make me start--”

A tinkling, like that of a small wind chime, sounded interrupting Nathyn. The three men looked about.

“Oh!” Julius cried feeling a warmth in the breast pocket of his jerkin. “It’s me. Sorry.” He pulled out a communication crystal. “Magic Knights duties.” He told Fyntch and Nathyn standing up. “Excuse me.” Outside the room he answered the call with a short. “Give me a moment.” With everyone on the first floor he ran up to the second taking two stairs at a time. Satisfied this would afford him enough privacy he entered his father’s personal receiving room and walked on back to Lord Jaxon’s study.

“Go ahead.”

“Captain,” Jon’s voice sounded from the crystal, “are you alright? You sound out of breath.”

“Fine.” Julius assured. “Did Jax get in touch with you? What did he have to say? Have Bronn, Yami, and the others returned from their mission? What did they find?”

“According to Captain Jax’s letter, they returned the same day you left for home.” Jon informed.

“The same day? Why are you only now contacting me now?”

“I only today received Captain Jax’s letter,” Jon said.

Julius sighed. He would have to speak to both his fellow Captain and his Vice Captain about communicating better with one another. Granted this wasn’t an urgent matter, at least he hoped the news wasn’t, but still with his interest and concern for Teris and Yami’s welfare he wanted to know any and all information as soon as possible.

He paced the room ordering. “Summarize their report for me.” He was quickly distracted by the changes to his fathers study that only Fyntch and his style for the ostentatious would make. So, he thought with distaste, Fyntch had already taken over their father’s seat of power, so to speak, and made it his own. Shaking his head he focused again on Jon’s voice asking him to repeat what he last said.

When the Vice Captain was finished Julius rubbed his forehead. “So they managed to make it appear as if the Wild Fire had been another attempt by outlaws to instigate a war between the Clover and Spade kingdoms.”

“Despite Bronn’s adamant words of disbelief in his full report, even he couldn’t skew the evidence they found that pointed to such a conclusion.” Jon affirmed.

“And Sir Jorah is content to believe that roving bands of criminals suddenly smartened up and began working together?”

“I cannot speak to the Wizard Kings private musing but that is what he has told the other Magic Knight Captains and Head Sentries.”

“Any Captains other then Jax and possibly Pyter find such a quick and seemingly seamless transition from in fighting gangs to formidable force curious?” Julius asked.

“Curious? Sure. Curious enough to question the Wizard King or Commander Greywright? Not in the slightest.”

Julius sighed pushing his ire at the situation aside. “How’s the squad? Everything well at base?”

“We’re managing without you, Captain.”

“You sure?”

“I think we’ll survive till you return on the fourth.” Jon said his smile evident in his voice.

“I can return if you need me to.” Julius offered.

“And leave your sister alone at the mercy of your brother and the Silva’s?”

Julius sighed again, knowing his Vice Captain was right.

“I know it’s not much of a vacation, Sir, but enjoy your time away. You take so little of it.”

23.4

Yami faced Jax in the Captains office and waited for the older man to speak. As he stood before the Captains desk he wondered if he should take Pilfer out for a run again tonight. While the ride and hunt only partially succeed in clearing his mind of Teris it had exhausted him enough to the point that after returning to base, he fell into his bed and slept.

“Bronn told me what happened with Iban Halvor and you.” Jax finally said.

Yami watched and waited.

“Well?” Jax urged after a moment.

“I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t hear a question in there.”

Jax gave a throaty growl of irritation. “Iban’s attack on you wasn’t in your report. Why?”

Yami put his hands in his pockets. “From my understanding, it wasn’t an attack. Merely a misunderstanding on his part of where certain lines, that shouldn’t be crossed, were.”

“That’s a rather magnanimous view. Especially since when Iban previously used his blood magic on your comrades Bronn or I heard about it straight away. And Iban never demanded they break free of his hold or made them choke themselves to provide encouragement.”

Yami’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t see Iban providing such details. He hadn’t even told Olsen all that when he had confronted the Water Mage about his pet friend. The bastard had been awake, Yami realized cursing Bronn for his inaction if that had, indeed, been the case. Yami shrugged. “You were a young man once. We play rough.”

“Iban is twenty-six, five years younger than me. Far passed the age for such careless rough housing.”

“Are we speaking about the same man?” Yami asked. “He might be twenty-six but his sense of right and wrong or when to stop is that of a child.”

“So you have no problem with him using his magic on you to make you choke yourself while demanding you break his hold on you?”

“I made it clear that is wasn’t something I found fun and wouldn't enjoy doing again.” Yami told. “And so far he has respected that. As long as he continues to do so. No. I don’t have a problem with him.”

“Very well.” Jax dismissed.

He watched Yami turn and exit the office. When Bronn had told him that Yami had broken free for Iban’s hold he hadn’t believed it, certain his Vice Captain had seen wrong in the caves darkness. But now that Yami had confirmed he had Jax was amazed. Granted the will to live and thinking you would be forced to kill yourself if you didn’t succeed were great motivators, but Jax had seen Iban control Magic Knight Captains with his magic and barely break a sweat. It wasn’t just Yami’s magical power that made the young man formidable. It was his physical might and strength of will. And the boy had only begun to stretch and grow. Jax found the boys possibilities both exciting and fearsome.

23.5

The music began again, Nozel and Teris bumping into one another.

“Sorry.” Teris apologized again for stepping on his foot.

It had gotten to the point where Nozel was seriously considering cloaking his toes in mana. It wasn’t that Teris weighed too much, but that her steps were far from light. If they hadn’t made peace last night he would have thought she was purposely trying to flatten his toes with her heavy tread.

“You’re not trying to kill a bug.” Nozel said, once again lifting her head up with a finger beneath her chin. “Looking at your feet won’t help.”

“I’m not looking at my feet.” Teris said. “I’m trying to figure out where yours are going so I can follow.” It was well past lunch and they had been at it since shortly after breakfast.

“That is what the hold is for.” Nozel told pressing her lower back with one hand and tapping his fingers on the hand he held, grateful Nebra and Solid were long gone. Nebra had been full of criticism and nothing else making Teris stiff, and if possible worse then she already was at following his lead. After their departure, Teris had relaxed considerably making instructing her that much easier. “My feet may move me but it’s my arms that will tell you where we’re headed.”

Teris stepped away frustrated. “I’m never going to get this. I’ll fail miserably and my knuckles will pay the price.”

Nozel puzzled at her last words a bit before stepping to her and turning her to face him. “You will get this.” He assured.

“At least one of us can still fake such certainty.” She laughed humorlessly.

“There’s nothing for me to fake. You forget how well I know you.”

“And what’s that got to do with my succeeding at this? Other then the fact that you should know better then to have any faith in my success.”

“Because, I’ve never known you to fail at something you put your mind to,” he said. He was loathed to lower his arms and release her but forced himself to do so when he felt her muscles begin to tense ever so slightly. Teris wasn’t so unlike a nervous animal you tried to put at ease as you tried to coax it out of it’s den and accept your ministering hand. Push too hard. Touch her at the wrong time, in the wrong way, or for too long and you were back to square one.

“Thanks.” She said feeling self conscious.

“You’re putting too much pressure on yourself is all,” Nozel said. “Leave us.” He ordered over his shoulder at the violinist.

“Wait. What. Nozel. We need him.”

“No we don’t.” Nozel said stopping her from following the musician.

“Uh, we kinda do—and now he’s gone.” Teris said letting an arm fall as the ballroom door closed.

“Trust me.” Nozel said looking at her.

“Trust isn’t easy for me.” Teris confessed.

“But we’re friends.” Nozel reminded. “You should trust your friends.”

“I knew I would rue the day I admitted that to you. I just never thought that day would come so soon.”

“Turn around.” Nozel ordered giving a small smile.

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Teris played.

Nozel grasped her hand and spun her around in a somewhat dance move. “Right now I am your instructor and can tell you to do as I please.” It was his turn to tense as the desire and implications of his words struck him.

“Very well.” She laughed. “But I must warn you. I can sometimes be an unruly and awful student.”

He forced a smile trying to shake the battling emotions within him. “Just relax, and trust me to lead you where you need to go.” He said taking her into his arms in a dance hold.

“Do you think I can look even a quarter as fine as Nebra?” Teris asked seriously. She forced a teasing smile and continued. “Or are you not that great an instructor.”

Nozel stared into her eyes and confessed. “Even when you think you’re at your worst, you out shine every lady there is.”

Teris pulled away and shook her head. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” Nozel asked feeling the blood drain from his face in fear.

“Don’t flirt. There’s no reason to. Even the musician is gone. Don’t do something neither of us enjoy because your family expects it when they aren’t even present to benefit.”

“I wasn’t flirting.”

“Don’t lie to me, Nozel. I’m not stupid.”

You certainly are if you think I only do it because it’s expect, Nozel thought. “Sorry.”

“For flirting or lying?” She asked.

Nozel closed his eyes pressing his teeth together as he checked his temper. “For both.” He said opening them. “It’s a habit I have trouble turning off.”

Teris tilted her head.

“How else am I to convince my father? He’s a hard man to fool and keeps a keen eye on me.”

Teris’ expression turned sympathetic. “I’m sorry.”

Nozel shook his head. “I don’t want to focus on it.” He looked at her and continued. “Not when we got our work cut out making it appear as if you’re dancing and not marching through the mud.”

“That’s just cruel.”

“You want cruel? Step on my toes one more time and I’ll show you cruel.”

It was nearing time to get ready for dinner when Nozel announced. “It will suffice.”

“That’s all?” Teris expressed. “We spent all day at this and my efforts will suffice?”

He gave her the cool gaze the Silva’s were known for. “If you wanted your ego petted you should have said so sooner.” It felt wrong to disparage her so, even if it was in jest, but she seemed to enjoy it. If all it took for her to relax around him was some good old fashioned razing he should have done it years ago. Who knows where they would be in their relationship if he had.

“Thank you,” Teris said.

“For not petting your ego or--”

“For taking the time to teach me.” She told him. “I still don’t like following but I think I can manage for a dance of two.”

“Just remember to keep your feet light. A gentleman can gracefully ignore a toe or foot being stepping on, so long as his toe is not flattened or bones crushed.”

Teris couldn’t help but grimace at that as she promised. “I’ll try.”

“You never told me why the sudden interest.” Nozel said casually as they made their way to the doors.

“Yes I did. For my knuckles.”

“You may have mentioned your knuckles in passing. A rather confusing statement I might add, but didn’t say how they figured into your wanting to learn how to dance.”

“It’s probably best if I don’t,” Teris said. “Let’s just say. In the hopes of never seeing someone again I decided to try to prove to my brother that I can and will make an effort.”

“I hope this someone isn’t me,” Nozel said. “You’ll be bitterly disappointed when next we have to work together on a mission.”

“It’s not you.” Teris smiled purposefully bumping him with a shoulder. “You’re not half bad.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re certainly not as bad as Mistress.”

“I don’t know who this Mistress is but I’ll take the praise,” he said.

“You shouldn’t. It’s not very high praise. Anyone would be a preference to her.”

“Are you going back to the library tonight?” Nozel questioned.

Teris stopped the change in subject taking her aback a moment. “Why?” She asked cautiously.

“If I find I have trouble sleeping again I thought I would assist you.” Nozel said trying to sound nonchalant.

“You don’t have to,” Teris said. “While I appreciate your help, more then I can say, you don’t have to.”

“What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t help you finish looking? What if something’s there and we just haven’t come across it yet?”

“Alright.” Teris allowed. “But only if you can’t sleep.”

“Of course,” Nozel nodded. “I wouldn’t keep myself up just to help you.”

23.6

Teris entered the library to find Nozel had already searched half a shelf's worth of books. “No luck.” He told her frustrated.

“What are you doing here?”

“I couldn’t sleep.” He said turning a page.

“Did you even try?”

He stopped and looked up at her blinking. “What do you think? I got into my night clothes and slipped on a robe to make it appear as if I had made an attempt should you ask.”

Feeling silly Teris came around beside him. “Sorry. I just don’t want to be a burden.”

Nozel released the breath he had been holding grateful his sarcastic tone had convinced her his truthful words were a jest. Looking at her sideways he muttered. “You are not a burden.”

“No?”

“There should be no doubt in your mind that you will never be a burden to me.” He told turning to her.

“Nozel.” Teris shook her head her expression becoming distant and impatient.

Feel him loosing her again he quickly asked, “If Fuegoleon were here instead of me would you worry he felt you were a burden?”

“No,” she said. “And if he did I’d kick his butt.”

“Then why question if I do?”

“Cause he’s family.” Teris answered. “Distant family but family. Besides, we’ve known each other all our lives. Grew up together.”

“We’ve known each other for all of our lives. And practically grew up together.”

“It’s not the same,” Teris said.

“Why? Because of our families plans for our future? Forget about that. You say it’s never going to happen so it should be easy for you to do so. I’m tired of fighting you, Teris. I’m tired of trying to have to prove to you time and again that I am indeed your friend. Can you just forget about the rest and accept me as whatever you want me? If that is, as you said last night, a friend then let’s be friends in truth. If it is not. Tell me. All I ask is that you stop jerking me from friend to enemy to acquaintance or anywhere else. It’s tiring. And I don’t like it.”

Teris stared. She had never seen Nozel angry at her. Annoyed. Yes. Displeased. Certainly. A whole host of emotions directed at her had crossed his face and echoed in his tone over the years. But not once had there been anger.

“I’m sorry, Nozel.” Teris whispered, her mouth feeling dry. Fuegoleon, Julius, and Mereoleona had been right. She was too hard on him. And now, in his moment of anger she found herself afraid to loose his friendship. “I’ll try to do better. It’s just that--” She shook her head firmly. “No. I won’t make excuses. I’m sorry. I’ll do better. I promise.”

Nozel swallowed, shocked. Before she had spoken, in that moment of silence, he had been near breaking and was about to apologize to her for his outburst. He had never been so glad for not doing something before in his life.

Clearing his throat Nozel gave a firm nod. “That is all I ask. Thank you.”

#black clover #yami sukehiro #julius novachrono #nozel silva #fuegoleon vermillion #mereoleona vermillion #light in the darkness

3 notes · View notes

iiimber · 6 years ago

Note

All might A-Z

A= affection

Toshinori is a very affectionate man; he tends to keep any displays for when he’s alone with you. He would love to show you off to the world– hold your hand or give you any and all kisses in public, but sadly, being a high profile hero prohibits him from doing that. So when you’re at home together, there’s hardly a moment when he’s not touching you. You’re either in his lap, you he has his arms wrapped around you in any position. It’s very comforting.

B= best memory

He doesn’t like choosing, because there are so many memories that he cherishes. But if he had to, he would say it was your first date. He remembers being so nervous, and you hadn’t been any better– but he had been able to gather up enough confidence to ask to hold your hand. He’ll never forget how flushed your cheeks were, or the giant, pretty smile that overtook your features. To this day, he still tries to make you smile that big again.

C= cat or dog person

Honestly, All Might screams ‘dog person’ to me. He probably has a fondness for big breeds, often charmed by the ones who are too big to be lap dogs but act like one anyways. He doesn’t mind cats, and actually likes them quite a bit, but owning a cat would come after getting a dog to him.

D= dreams

Toshinori had already fulfilled his dream of being a hero, but his more domestic one is to have a family. He’s a good man, and loves children, so it’s only natural to want some of his own. Sadly, he had always been so busy as #1 and the danger of being that high profile and having a kid was much too great…he hopes later on in life he’ll be able to, even if he has to adopt.

E= evenings

If he’s not working, then his evenings are very laid back. He’ll eat dinner and either watch a show or read. If you ever happen to be over, he actually likes play board or card games with you to pass time. If he doesn’t have work early the next morning, he’ll often ask if you’d like to go to dinner, and treat you at an expensive restaurant– before taking you home and falling asleep in each others arms.

F= first date

Your first date was very simple and low-key, but it still made him incredibly nervous. He thought it would be nice to take you out for breakfast on a day where it wasn’t so busy– taking you on a long walk through the park. He had been so scared to ask to hold your hand, but he was glad he did– no matter how little the gesture was. It was you that kissed him by a pond, and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t red for the rest of the day.

G= giggle

In muscled form, Toshinori has a booming laugh– it’s loud and deep, definitely heroic and manly sounding. In regular form, he laughs with more of a soft chuckle, which is very cute and gentle. It doesn’t take a lot to make him laugh; he really could giggle at anything you say that’s supposed to be funny. He’s a pun man, and always gets a kick out of them, even if he’s the one saying them.

H= hugs

Oh boy does he love hugs, and man is he good at them. Toshinori hugs with his whole body, both arms squeezing you tightly enough where you feel protected, but soft enough that it never hurts. He never gives side hugs, always goes all the way– even with fans, but it’s of course less intimate than when he’s with you. His favorite way to hug is with you in his lap, arms around his neck while his are around your waist, holding you close.

I= instrument

He’s never had time to really sit down and learn how to play one, no less keep up practice– but while his time in America he had learned how to play a few chords on an acoustic through David. He doesn’t remember much, but once he’s retired he’d like to get back into it, to give himself a hobby.

J= joy

A lot of things bring joy to Toshinoris life. Being a hero was one of them; saving people and gaining their love and trust was something he’s never give up, and it made all the hardships worth it. Midoriya and his heart of a true hero made his so proud and happy always, and that feeling seemed to grow each time he saw the boy improve. Having you in his life to love makes him calm and gleeful; you bring a domestic simplicity he’s always craved a bit; he’d never give that up.

K= kisses

Toshinori’s kisses are always passionate. He’s a passionate man, so his love has to be too. His lips are very soft, and they always feel just perfect against yours– holding you close and pecking yours softly when he leaves for the day, or a hand threading through your hair while he kisses you slow and heavy while pressed up against him on the sofa. They’re never too wet or overbearing, he knows how to move his lips just right.

L= love

Despite being handsome and well-liked, he’s very modest and a little shy when he likes someone. He’s a gentleman, but he tends to act more nice and soft towards you in particular; a clear sign he feels different. While he can be shy with his crush, he’s not above showing off a little too. During school, he’d always rise to the top of any fight or lesson– often turning to you with a smile to see if you noticed. He’s a bit like a puppy, it’s cute.

M= memory

His favorite personal memory would have to do with his master. He had never been incredibly close with his birth parents, so Nana had been a mother to him. He recalls one night after extensive and draining lesson, she invited him to her place for dinner. She cooked, stew that was hearty and thick, and talked to him for hours about his life outside of becoming the next OFA user, and what his dreams were. He’ll never forget the look of fondness on her face, or how intense her listening was. It made him wonder if she had consider him like a son.

N= no

By no fault of anyone else, Toshinori hates getting stuck. In his muscle form, he’s bulky and takes up a lot of space, so it’s hard to maneuver himself sometimes. Walking in the halls after school or trying to get to one destination on a busy sidewalk is hell in his muscle form, he’s too nice to push by and a little embarrassed to excuse his big self past anyone.

O= occupation

A given. Toshinori had always wanted to be a hero, so I imagine he was much like Midoriya growing up; not one to give into his fate of being quirkless, and always looking for a way that he would be able to achieve his dream. It all worked out, thankfully.

P= parent

Toshinori would be a fantastic father. He’s very caring and excitable, he’d be a fun and supportive dad. He had actually always wanted to someday have a child of his own, so if it were to ever happen he would absolutely shed tears. He’d be very hands-on during the pregnancy, no matter how tired he would be from hero work. He’d be secretive though, careful to not let any information on his child being his slip into public hands.

Q= questions

It’s not something he actively discusses since he doesn’t think about the topic too much, but he believes in aliens 100%! He finds it a little odd to think that we are alone in the universe (especially in the kind of world they live in, come on). Toshinori doesn’t partake in any religion, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t think there was a higher power up there.

R= romantic

He is so romantic in a relationship. He’s very busy in his hero life, but that never stops him from showing up on your doorstep after a patrol with flowers and dinner (no matter how tired he is). He says lots of fluffy things, mostly compliments that are so sweetly honest it could give you a cavity.

S= smile

In his line of work, the fact that he can save someone and hear their thanks never fails to make him smile. He loves that fact that people are willing to lean on him; put their trust into him. Toshinori was born to help people, and being able to live up to that makes everything worthwhile. In a romantic sense, being around you and just being is enough to make him smile. He feels most at peace when he is alone with you.

T= together

If he has the time to be, he can be very clingy. He’s an affectionate man, so if he’s able to he can lay with you wrapped in his arms all day. When the two of you share a free day, you never leave each others side. He’ll wake up with you in his arms, run around town holding your had, sit at home with an arm around your shoulder while you rest your head on his chest. Even while making dinner, you’re around each other. It’s very domestic and blissful.

U= unbearable

After his accident, Toshinori begins to always look down on himself, and talk very negatively. It’s unbearable in the sense that you hate to see your joyful and beautiful man so self-deprecating. When he’s like this, he hates when you fret over him. He feels like he doesn’t deserve it, so he often pushes you away. He never snaps, but he’s cold and blunt; it’s hard for the both of you.

V= Videos

Toshinori isn’t the best photo/video taker, but god forbid if he doesn’t try. His album is full of pictures of you; whether it’s one you posed for, or one he took while you were doing mundane things. Any selfies of you two are a little blurry if he took them, otherwise he has all the ones you do. He’s not much of a video taker, but if the situation arises (a surprise for you, or if the two of you ever have kids) he tries.

W= wedding

The wedding was actually small; only your family and some of his + Gran Torino and Dave. Any news of it was kept from the public in fear of it being ruined, so it took place out of the city in a small but pretty church. It was truly one of the best days of his life, and he cried when you walked down the isle. Most of this pictures are hanging up in your shared home, and he loves to gaze at them when he feels off.

X= eXtra

Toshinori likes to read and write poetry. It started as a hobby when he was younger, a way to release any pent-up emotions; and continued on throughout his life. His vows to you had been a short yet sweet piece; flowing beautifully and smoothly to the point you had also cried. If he did not become a hero, he very well could have been a famous poet.

Y= yuck

He likes baked goods and any edible sweets, but artificial sweet smells are a no for him. They smell fake and much too strong, often giving him a headache if he’s around a candle or perfume for too long.

Z= zzzz

Toshinori sleeps heavy, but he doesn’t get the chance to very often. He works shifts and on-call, so he’s often interrupted from a deep sleep. If he’s able to, he can sleep for ten hours interrupted, and it’s incredibly hard to wake him when he’s that far gone.

#Anonymous #long post #all might #all might x reader #all might head canons #all might headcanons #toshinori yagi #toshinori yagi x reader #toshinori x reader #toshinori yagi head canons #toshinori yagi headcanons #a to z

218 notes · View notes

kindofwriter · 6 years ago

Text

A couple of Dr J descriptions

I’m not done with them yet, they need work, but here:

Henry lounged in the armchair closest to the fire, feet dangling over one arm and head lolling against the other. He'd removed his dinner jacket to reveal an exquisite waistcoat that pinched at his waist. He rubbed one hand lazily across his stomach as he sipped from a scotch glass held in the other.

Gabriel stared at his friend, grateful that Henry’s eyes were on the fire. During university Henry had always been in great health, retaining his youthful plump features and exuberance for life while his classmates became jaded and sickly. He always took great care to make sure his curls defied gravity and his makeup was smooth and warm. Even after graduating, when his mental health took a blow, he had made sure to maintain outward appearances. But recently he'd been looking tired.

It would have been understandable. They were almost forty, and Gabriel was beginning to feel his age. His work, which had captivated him as a young man, now seemed monotonous, and he always found himself too restless to get into any good literature. He had begrudgingly decided to let his already meagre love life die, realising unrequited love was all he'd been granted. Life had become tiresome.

But Henry, retired from a brief career of lab work, had recently thrown himself into some sort of secret project that he claimed was captivating, all-consuming, the pinnacle of his career: his words. Gabriel had expected it to give him a new lust for life, something that had scarcely faded to begin with, but he now appeared drained. Dark circles hung under his eyes like bruises and although there were no questions about the tightness of his waistcoat he'd certainly lost weight.

Sure enough, the window was open. Not only that, but sat stiffly in an armchair, taking in the cool evening air, was Henry. Or, at least, someone who didn’t look unlike Henry.

His hair was lank, uncurled, and pushed back from his face, which was shiny with sweat. His cheeks were gaunt and hollowed, hanging below two deep purple bags beneath his eyes. In all the years he had known him Gabriel never would’ve thought to call Henry thin, but now his clothes hung off him and his frame seemed to shake in the light breeze. He looked dreadfully ill.

Gabriel reached a hand up to greet him, but Rikki yanked it back down again. “Don’t,” she hissed. “He’s clearly going through something. If he wanted to see you he would’ve.”

“Please,” Gabriel took his arm back, “I just have to ask if he’s alright. I’ve never seen Harry like this.” Every other time Henry had been unwell, or uncertain, or dreadfully depressed he’d always come straight to Gabriel. Gabriel couldn’t possibly fathom what was so atrocious that Henry couldn’t even share it with him. It almost hurt.

He lifted his arm again and waved. “Harry!”

There was a stirring at the window and, with great trepidation, Henry eased himself forward on the chair. “Gabe?” He blinked painfully slowly and dragged his eyes across to Rikki. “Ricarda? What’re you doing here?”

“Just passing by on a walk,” Gabriel called, his voice swelling to fill the courtyard. “I saw the window open and I thought you were out of town so, um, I thought I’d just-“ He gestured up to the window, “Make sure everything was alright.”

“Ah.” Henry smiled, but the effort it took seemed to crack his porcelaine-white face. “Everything’s fine, I assure you. Apologies for not keeping in touch as of late, I find I’ve become terribly involved in my work.”

What work? The last Gabriel had heard of Henry’s lab work was of the ‘top-secret project’ he’d been working on, which Gabriel had assumed to be long abandoned. Was that what was causing Henry such grievances?

“You look ghostly, Harry,” Gabriel shouted up to him. “I think some fresh air would do you good-“ Rikki jabbed him with her elbow and glowered, but he pressed on. “Maybe you should join us?”

Henry opened his mouth to respond, but froze suddenly. A wave of fear crashed over his face and he dug his fingers into the chair arms. Then it passed and his face softened again. “I don’t think that’s wise, Gabe,” he said. “As you can see, I’m not feeling-“

Henry’s eyes widened. He lurched forward, gripping his stomach as if he were about to be sick. Whole body trembling and face distorted almost unrecognisably with pain, Henry reached up and slammed the window shut, before retreating into the depths of his house.

#jekyll and hyde #writing #character description #the strange case of dr jekyll and mr hyde #writeblr #author's note

50 notes · View notes

siodymph · 6 years ago

Text

“The Before and After”

Hey there @pirably ! I’m so sorry this is getting to you so late! I can’t thank you enough for participating in the gift exchange, and I hope you enjoy my take on your prompt!

Feel free to read your story under the cut or over on my ao3!

“I can’t believe you!”

“What?”

Sighing, Stanford took a deep breath. His neck was starting to feel pinched from looking up at so long. “I said I CAN’T BEL-”

“I heard what you said! What’s not to believe?”

“Just… Everything about this! There’s no way this is safe!”

There was a long pause as Stanford waited until he finally heard Fiddleford respond. Voice echoing out from somewhere near the top of his gigantic creation.

“… Probably not!”

“Then why do you insist on working like this? Why put yourself in life-threatening danger!”

“Cause!” Fiddleford called back, huffing. “I work best directly with my hands. And there’s no way I could tip this darned thing over without risking it all breaking! All for some shiftin’ wires!”

“You could build something to help gently set it down then stand it again!” Stanford tried to add.

“Ugh! But that’d take even more time! Not to mention I’d have to build that first!” Fiddleford yelled. “Now hush up! I’m trying to work here Stanford!”

If someone were to see Stanford at that moment, they probably would have said he was pouting. But Ford would take to his grave if he had to. “I just want you to be safe…”

“I’m harnessed to the swing, which I rigged up myself! Checked the pulleys and everything this morning! I’m the safest I’ve ever been!” Fiddleford called out one more time. “And you’re one to talk! Where was all this fussing over safety when you were in Dr. Jenret’s class and you almost poured acid on yourself?”

Stanford could only smile and shake his head in response. As always Fiddleford was able to win him over when he least suspected it. As inevitable as it was, it still caught Stanford off-guard. Growing up there had been no one like that in his life. If he ever got into arguments or debates with kids they’d always either eventually concede or just completely give up. Or they’d just hit him out of annoyance. If it was his brother he’d do a combination of the last two.

At least Stanford used that excuse as to why after knowing the man for years now, he still managed to surprise him when they got into debates.

To this day Fiddleford was probably the only person he knew who could get him to shut up and see things from a new perspective.

So now knowing there was nothing he could say Stanford decided to just sit back and watch the show Fiddleford was putting on. The man may be stubborn as a mule, but he was equally as cunning and brilliant, and he certainly made a performance out of his larger-than-life projects.

There was no denying Fiddleford’s brilliance. He had the most engineering and mechanical skill out of anyone Stanford knew. Even better than himself, which was something he seldom admitted to anyone. But it was the truth. Fiddleford Hadron McGucket was by far the best of the best in the world of robotics. And anyone who said otherwise was wrong.

Just being able to watch Fiddleford work was a treat itself. As his creation came together it quickly collected height. So much so that he soon had to resort to rigged swings and climbing equipment to finish the job. As he worked up off the ground like that Stanford couldn’t help but think of those old photos from the 1940’s of construction workers building the first skyscrapers. So high off the ground, only a pair of overalls and a utility belt for protection, and yet seeming so at ease. There was almost a beauty in how effortless Fiddleford made it seem. A grace he had while swinging from rig to rig, climbing up the structure with his hands and feet.

But when the light hit his face just right and Stanford could see Fiddleford’s hair shine golden, body covered in a thin sheen of sweat from his hard work, Stanford knew in his heart his feelings for the other man hadn’t changed at all.

He found he’d only grown to love Fiddleford Hadron McGucket even more...

Two hours later, Fiddleford came swinging down. Overalls covered in a layer of grim, hair frizzled and frumpy, face red and sweaty, and a satisfying smile that just looked ethereal on Fiddleford’s face.

“How’d it go?” Stanford asked as he ran back over from his own work to meet him. Handing the other man a towel.

“Pretty good I think!” Fiddleford sighed gratefully as he started to wipe off his face. “Got that wiring all straightened out! Now all that’s left is testing her out!”

“That’s wonderful! We should test it now!”

“You know Stanford it’s a good thing I like ya so much.” Fiddleford said with a tired smirk. “Been up there all day, and as soon as I get down you want me to keep on working!”

“You know you want to see your new invention just as much as I do!” Stanford replied. “Don’t even kid yourself Fidds.”

Chuckling to himself, Fiddleford went over to his work bench and grabbed the remote control he’d built for this his invention. He let his finger hover over the main controls before looking towards Stanford.

“Hang onto your butts…”

All at once, the remote buzzed and the colossal machine burst to life. Inbetween metal panels, there was a bright green glow. Panels began to bend and shift. Massive wings unfurled from either side of the robot. For a moment the creature turned its head to look at its master. Green eyes glowing with a light that feuled it from within. Then after Fiddleford pressed another button the remote buzzed again and the creature tilted its head back at gave out a massive prehistoric screech that made Stanford’s entire chest rattle.

“Not too bad for someone who said they were moving onto computer-work only, huh?”

Stanford looked up at the massive mechanic pterodactyl in awe. “Fiddleford… Fiddlford that was nowhere close to ‘not bad’. That was… That was amazing!”

“Aw shucks,” Fiddleford mumbled.

“No, I mean it!” Stanford continued. “This is a piece of history in the making here. This won’t just change the world of animatronics, but the entire world of robots and engineering itself!”

“You really think so?” Fiddleford asked.

“I know so!” Stanford tried to contain some of his excitement, sometimes he could get rather loud when he got carried away. “And Fiddleford? I couldn’t imagine this being made by anyone else but yourself. You really did a… a fantastic job here. There’s no way you won’t take first place in Dawngrove next week!”

“Aw, I don’t care about none of that.” Fiddleford sighed as he turned off his robo-dino. “I’m only doing this for lil’Tate. He’s the one who asked me to do all this after all.”

“And I’m certain Tate will adore this too.”

“I hope so...” Fiddleford said with another sigh. Looking back up at his incredible invention. “Ever since me and the missus split I feel like I haven’t seen him as often. When we are together I gotta make it mean something. For the both of us.”

Gently, Stanford took Fiddlford’s face in his hands, pulling him away so they were looking eye to eye.

“Believe me Fiddleford, next week Dawngrove’s Robotic Royal will be a day no one could ever forget!”

Leaning in closer, Stanford kissed him. And closing his eyes, Fiddleford could feel himself relaxing.

Slipping away. If only for a few moments...

~~~

Sometimes it truly amazed Fiddleford how everything was coming back to him.

At least physically if not completely mentally. He was still working on that.

He counted it as a small success though when Stanford showed him a massive mechanical pterodactyl and he got the inkling of a sensation that he’d seen it before.

Raising one hand up, he touched one of its massive wings. It felt rougher than he’d expected it to. No doubt the metal had eroded some after years of hiding it away in such an abandoned place.

“I know I’ve seen this fella before…” Fiddleford pondered out loud, still lightly rubbing over the metal as if that would help him reveal the answer. He knew he’d made robotic pterodactyls before but this one didn’t seem as familiar. It definitely wasn’t the one he made for revenge after his retirement-party-fiasco. “Did we make this together?”

“Not really, I just watched.” Stanford answered. “You made this one on your own. It was for this competition out in Dawngrove California.”

“Dawngrove…” Fiddleford said slowly.

“Yes, does that town sound familiar at all?”

Fiddleford hummed a little before shaking his head. “It ain’t there right now, but it’ll come back. I can feel it rattle’n around in there.”

Stanford seemed a little disappointed, but decided to move on. “Well you and I brought that in for a robotics competition. A battle royal actually. You ended up getting first place. Your ex-wife and your son even came and we all cheered you on.”

The mention of his son brought a smile to his face. The details over everything were hazy but he always knew who Tate was. “He would have been around eight or nine right?”

“Yes, he was nine!” Stanford said.

Fiddleford chuckled at the thought. “He was such a little squirt back then. Always hiding under that big mop of hair…”

Stanford grumbled as he looked around. He wished he had more photos from that day. In his experience with Stanley photos help jogged Stan’s memory the best. Unfortunately he didn’t have any photos from that day. He was however able to find a few newspaper clippings he’d held onto from that day. Carefully picking it up the fragile paper so it didn’t disintegrate, Stanford brought it over for Fiddleford to see.

“Look here,” Stanford pointed to the main picture under the headline ‘Super Scientist and Father Wins Grand Prize with his Dynamic Dino!’ where there was a black and white photo of the Pterodactyl back in its golden years. “If you look towards the bottom near the pterodactyl’s feet you can see a few figures. That’s me on the right, you on the left, and you’re holding Tate in the middle of us.”

The article itself was so damaged it was illegible. But Fiddleford could just make out their figures Stanford was pointing to in the picture. The picture was so old the image had begun to fade some too, mostly on the left side. His whole body was faded out. But with enough focus he could just make out Stanford and Tate’s faces. Both were beaming at the camera. Grinning with pride. Fiddleford realized they’d been proud of him.

“You two sure seemed happy…” Fiddleford said with a sigh.

“And we still are.” Stanford continued. “You have no idea how happy I am to be here with you. To have a second chance at making things right with you. With everyone.”

Fiddleford nodded but didn’t look up from the picture. As if trying to memorize their faces in case this memory never came back to him. When he didn’t focus as hard he could almost recall some things. Mostly phantom feelings. Like holding a giggling Tate close to his chest. Or swinging up on a rig, shouting to Stanford down below. Walking hand in hand with both of them…

“I’m happy I get a second chance too.” Fiddleford replied softly.

Eventually they’d seen everything they could and together, hand in hand, they walked back out of that old warehouse back into the world. They’d been in there reminiscing so long they’d missed sunset. It was already night and the moon hung low in the sky, darting out from behind trees as they walked.

Stanford’s six-fingered hand felt so warm in Fiddleford’s own. How he’d spent all those years alone, Fiddleford didn’t know, but now that Stanford was back in his life he knew he couldn’t bear to go back to the way things had once been. The world had changed so much, and they’d both changed so much with it. But Fiddleford could feel it in his heart that what they had between themselves was still as special as it was back then.

And when the light hit his face just right Fiddleford could see Stanford’s hair shine silver, and his eyes practically sparkling under the moon, Fiddleford knew in his heart his feelings for the other man hadn’t changed at all.

He found he’d only grown to love Stanford Filbrick Pines even more.

#fiddauthor #fiddauthorgiftexchange #fiddauthor gift exchange #pirably #fiddleford mcgucket #stanford pines #fiddauthorgiftexchange2018

30 notes · View notes

humble-sunflower-blog · 7 years ago

Text

Thrown for a Loop

So I’m still dealing with a lot and I'm not officially back because I cant guarantee a stable posting schedule. But here is a little something inspired by @the-clairvoyant-rick to hopefully please you all!

Imagine if you will dad Rick, Beth is a little girl, his life is kinda average and boring he has yet to invent the portal gun or really become the Rick we know today. Instead, he's just a guy with marital problems trying to make it big as an inventor.

When one day a portal opens in his garage and from it stumbles out a wiry teenager with curly hair and a bleeding wound on his shoulder. Morty is there by accident, a malfunction in Ricks portal gun after it got fried by a laser. He barely had time to fix it before shoving a wounded Morty through a hastily made and quickly collapsing Portal

And that's how Morty finds himself bleeding on the floor of Ricks garage. He's dazed and confused his vision fading as the pain makes his world spin. He hears Ricks voice asking if he's ok, he sees the head of blue hair and he tries to call out but he cant make a sound...

The world goes black and he folds like a deck of cards. When he wakes up later he's on a cold metal workbench. He's not wearing a shirt but Ricks labcoat is overtop of him. It's dark and quiet. When Rick walks in. Morty is relieved to see him until he notices how young Rick looks how... HOT he is.

The blue haired scientist says he's relieved that he woke up and introduces himself as Rick Sanchez, Morty in shock only barely manages to mumble out his own name "M-Morty."

Rick is fascinated by Morty. A young man falling through a portal with a wound that looks like it was caused by technology beyond earths knowledge. He thought of taking him to the hospital or even telling his wife. But he worries that if he does the young boy will disappear from his life leaving a gaping hole of questions.

So he takes care of him. Hides him in the garage his angry wife stopped coming in long ago. He fixes the wound as best he can and waits. Eventually, he eats dinner and tucks Beth into bed for the night.

When he comes back to the garage the boy is awake and frightened. But Rick is barely able to hide his excitement. He tells the boy his name and barely gives the kid time to say his before launching into a tirade of questions. Later he would think about Morty's name and decide that he liked it.

Morty had been with young Rick for a few days. The older man was insatiable for knowledge. He'd pester Morty constantly to know more. But Morty would give no hints or clues. He hadn't even told Rick that he was his grandfather. Too worried about the harmful repercussions he might have on the future if he told Rick too much. Yet still, he felt indebted to this young version of his grandfather. He kept Morty fed, and upon finally ringing out the truth from Morty [that he was from another time and space] young Rick had adamantly promised to help Morty return to his own time and place. It was nice of young Rick to offer and brought a smile to Morty's face but he knew that eventually grandpa Rick would track him down and maybe wipe the past memories of himself for good measure.

But... It was starting to take awhile. Morty had been there for weeks now. He learned much about Ricks past, how he and his wife no longer got along, judging from the yelling Morty could hear through the door connecting the house to the garage, he learned Beth had been forbidden long ago from going into the garage on the grounds of it being too dangerous. But most of all he learned that Rick had long ago been a truly kind man. Caring, and loving, but with a vast need to understand and learn more all the time. And Morty was his favorite thing. He questioned him about everything and anything poking and prodding for more information... And slowly Morty found himself melting under the man's charisma and attention... his dashing face might have had a little something to do with it also. Morty never said anything about knowing Rick or his future but small things... Like what kind of gun had made the wound on his shoulder, the planets hed seen and liked best, the existence of alternate dimensions. And every new scrap of information was treated like gold with Rick praising and beaming at Morty as he tinkered with his newest attempt to get Morty back to his own time and space

Nearly a month in, and Morty and Rick spoke like old friends. Morty enjoyed knowing more than Rick he enjoyed the respect he got when he spoke how Rick smiled at him and listened intently. He was rewarded with information about Rick, his favorite foods, and snacks his early life. They would get off topic and end up just talking about their own lives. Rick always seemed desperate to do so, like he was unloading everything onto Morty like he was the only one who understood. And in a way he was. They both knew too much sadness, loneliness, the struggle of school life, Morty was surprised to hear how Rick, charismatic amazing brilliant Rick felt the gnawing loneliness that consumed Mortys life.

Two months in. Morty could hear Rick and his wife fighting again. She was angry with Rick for spending so much time in the garage for locking her out of his life. It made Morty wince to hear doors slam and angry sobs and Beths worried cries for her mother. But soon the house fell silent with Rick gone out on the town and his wife and Beth retiring for the night. It was midnight when Morty heard Rick stumble into the garage in darkness. Confused he turned on the small table lamp and for just a moment... He thought it was his Grampa Rick, drunk as the devil stumbling towards him. But it wasn't. It was young Rick he stared at Morty intensely his gaze burning into his eyes and came closer. Morty tried to move but his body was frozen his heart pounding he understood now what it was like to be prey. Rick moved closer and closer until the sent of whiskey was hot on Mortys face. Their eyes never darting away for an instant. And then all at once. Rick was on him his dry lips smashing against Ricks and Morty wished he could say he fought against it. But he didn't. He kissed back his body burning with heat he didn't even understand. The idea of messing with the future was tossed out the window as Rick pulled off Morty's clothes and embraced him like a passionate lover.

For the next few weeks. Morty was ashamed to say they would repeat the act. And Rick was even better sober then he was drunk. They would kiss passionately, talk constantly and make love frequently. Their bodies seemed to know each other too well as if they had spent multiple lifetimes together. Rick would often comment about how it seemed like Morty had known him longer than his wife had. But Morty would never respond only smile and kiss Rick sweetly. In both their minds there were nagging doubts and worries. The thought of betraying their loved ones, or ruining their future. Yet they could not pull apart drawn together by a force stronger than gravity.

But it would need to come to an end. And it did. Rick had gone off to the kitchen to make lunch while Morty stayed in the lab to tidy up. They were working on something very exciting but needed full stomachs and a nice open space to really work it through. Morty was just finishing brooming out the crud when he heard the all to familiar sound of a portal opening behind him. He froze and all at once he felt his heart stop and grow cold. He'd put off thinking about this moment for as long as he could. And in many ways, he'd hoped to just stay with Rick forever in this moment of time and space. But he knew Rick... He knew it could never last. Turning to face his grandfather their eyes met and there was understanding there. Cold and harsh, grandpa Rick nodded and headed through the portal. Morty put down the broom and walked toward the glowing green portal when he heard Rick calling out for him, the garage door swung open and Rick happy as ever with a plate of sandwiches walked in. He paused suddenly when he saw Morty standing there in front of a portal. There was a heavy moment as Morty's eyes began to fill with tears his whole body shaking. Rick looked at him with pleading eyes. "Morty... Morty please." - "I'm sorry Rick." - "don't! DONT GO!" Morty only gave a sad smile as grandpa ricks hand reached out and yanked him back him. The last thing Morty saw was Rick calling out to him before he fell back into grandpa Ricks garage.

Grandpa Rick stared down at Morty. The boy would not make eye contact with him. He seemed lifeless and dead as he leaned against the cold metal work table. Rick stared and stared but still, nothing was said. No apology, no worried questions of how Rick made it out. NOTHING. And Rick knew why. Morty was an idiot, one who fell in love to easy, and the man he was back then was just Morty's type, being here, brought back to this place. Had just broken Morty's heart. But Rick wondered if Morty knew how much it had broken HIS heart. he remembered it well, being young and stupid trying to conquer simple science experiments when a wounded young man fell into his life. It was like he'd known him his whole life, the way they talked and moved around each other how they worked together how Morty admired and believed in Ricks ability to do anything. he hadn't realized how much time Morty was taking of his life till his wife accused him of cheating. After a night of heavy drinking thinking about his space traveler something came over him, this ache to talk with Morty to tell him all his problems. He'd intended to do just that when he'd stumbled into the garage. But then he saw how cute Morty looked, sleepy and tired his hair mused his lips pink and plump and when they kissed Rick could not stop he kept going until Morty was calling for him as he came. he'd been in love. he wanted to keep Morty forever, but then he'd been stolen away back through a portal.

Rick had wanted to follow Morty. He worked tirelessly until he invented a portal gun, and off he went leaving his wife and daughter behind. He'd scoured the universe every inch of it, looking for the man he'd fallen in love with. But he was nowhere, he fell into drugs alcohol, war, he received scars, but he never stopped looking, his skin grew gray his eyes cold with the horror he'd witnessed. When he heard the news that his daughtered had given birth. When he managed to pick himself up to meet his grandson... He saw it. The warm eyes, the curly brown hair. His daughter only smiled and called him 'Morty'

For a long while, he hated Morty. Wondered why he hadn't told Rick all those years ago who he was. He never would have touched him had he known... But then who was he kidding? He was drawn to Morty, overprotective, over-obsessed, he missed watching him mewl and moan missed those sweet kisses, missed his enthusiasm to help Rick with every project he could think of. Rick felt dirty for thinking about it. And tried to drown himself faster. But deep down he knew, that Morty was the reason for everything, the reason he discovered space, changed history, saved countless planets from those damn insects. It was always for Morty. So when the time came, and his portal gun malfunctioned, he shoved Morty through it and waited, waited until Morty fell in love with him, waited until they could not live without one another, and then, he tore them apart.

The two stood in silence. Their eyes refusing to meet. Morty feeling shame guilt, disgust for falling in love and making love to his grandfather albeit a past version of him, and Rick feeling disgusted for missing it. Without a word Morty made the first move, heading toward the exit of the garage with his head held low but Rick's cold callous hands wrapped around his wrist stopping him from going any further. "Let me go, Rick... I know what you're thinking... I know how mad you must be... How d-disgusted..." Rick's grip only tightened. "Please, Rick... P-Please just let me go!" Rick could see Morty's body shaking and he could hear the tears in Morty's voice. With a forceful tug, he pulled Morty back smirking when the brunette made a surprised gasp. Forcing Morty to face him Rick didn't hesitate before smashing their lips together Morty squirmed in shock but Rick only continued forcing his tongue into his mouth and teasing him just the way he knew Morty liked. When he finally pulled away Morty looked dazed and confused the tears still at the brink of his eyes. "R-Rick?" - "I've been looking for you for years Morty." Morty squirmed his expression a mixture of embarrassment and confusion "So don't leave me... again." Pushing Morty up onto the workbench Rick wasted no time diving in. After all, he had millennia of pent-up sexual frustration coursing through him... And his past self-had been kind enough to do all the prep work.

#rickmorty #c-137cest #since ive been gone so long i knew i had to pull out the big guns #a tripple threat drabble of fluff angst and just a pinch of filth

447 notes · View notes

foreverlovingdaryldixon · 7 years ago

Text

Stop worrying about the ‘what ifs’ // Daryl x EDS!Reader

Prompt: Hi I was wondering if you could do a daryl and reader were the reader has a condition it’s called EDS People with hEDS may have: joint hypermobility loose, unstable joints that dislocate easily joint painandclicking joints extreme tiredness (fatigue) skin that bruises easily digestive problems, such as heartburn and constipation dizziness and an increased heart rate after standing up problems with internal organs, such as mitral valve prolapse or organ she also went through early menopause

A/N: I really hope this is okay, I googled a little bit about EDS before I wrote this to try and write an accurate fic for you guys!

Word Count: 1182

Warnings : Angst, some fluff

Send me a Negan or Daryl prompt!xox

“What happened?” Daryl asked, his voice lapped with concern as he ran the back of his hand down your face with a feather light touch.

You shrugged through a strained yawn, your whole body protesting at the small movement. “It was nothing.”

“It was far from nothin’ Y/N,” Rick piped up as he strode into the room. “You fainted whilst on watch, bruised up your left side, caught your shoulder on the fall too, dislocated it.”

Daryl’s stern gaze bored into you, making you shrink further down under the covers, before his eyes snapped up to Rick’s.

“Yeah and why weren’t no one on watch with her?” he growled.

“Tobin was,” Rick answered, feeling uneasy under the hunter’s deadly stare. “He wasn’t quick enough to catch her.”

“Figures,” Daryl grunted. “Lumberjacks like him ain’t exactly the most agile.”

“Daryl it’s fine,” you spoke up softly, placing a weak hand on his forearm. “It’s no one’s fault.”

Daryl wanted to argue the matter, but he didn’t want to put your body under more stress than it was already in.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Rick eventually said, catching the door handle and shutting it behind him.

“It’s not the worst thing to have happened,” you said when Daryl offered up nothing more to the conversation. “I’ll be back on my feet by tomorrow.”

“The hell ya will,” Daryl almost snarled, but he managed to keep his voice gentle. “Yer ass needs ta rest.”

“There’s only so much rest can fix, this isn’t going away Daryl.”

Daryl knew you were right but for months he’d been in denial, trying to keep you wrapped in cotton wool, lead a sheltered life…but that wasn’t one you wanted. He didn’t mean to care about you as much as he did either, it just sort of…happened. From that first day he’d found you in the woods, practically on your deathbed, Daryl had stayed with you day and night, waiting to see if you’d wake up. Once you woke, it was like no one else in the goddamn world mattered. You’d told him of your condition, expecting him to show you the usual pity most did, but instead of seeing that familiar sympathy in his eyes, you saw admiration, and you came to learn that was not something Daryl Dixon often offered.

Daryl saw that there was more to you than just your condition, you were brave, generous, funny, sometimes even flirty (that one always caught him off guard). Although you two had never made anything official, you knew he was all but yours. He went out on countless runs at the beginning, looking for more pain medication, more blood pressure tablets, anything to alleviate the symptoms you were facing on a day to day basis.

You hated it. The thought of him putting his life on the line just to try and help you made you feel guilt to the pit of your stomach. It took a while but eventually he stopped going on so many runs, using that time to hang out with you instead, although you knew sometimes he was being over cautious, not trusting of anyone in case something bad did happen to you.

It had taken time to convince him that he needed to trust you, you wanted to help out, take watches, help garden, help teach the kids about knife safety. You needed a purpose, something more than sitting inside, wasting your days away with Daryl by your side, as much fun as it was.

He understood your need for freedom, berating himself for trying to control you. You told him you didn’t see it as him trying to control you, he just cared for you, and that was something you hadn’t experienced in a long time. Daryl blushed and ducked his head when you said it, murmuring an affirmation, saying he cared more than you knew.

You couldn’t help but fall in love with him after that, in the short space of a few months he’d become your best friend, someone you’d trust with your life. He wasn’t big on the verbal admission but his actions reflected that he felt the same. Gentle face caresses when he had to leave for runs; his hand searching out yours when you were walking side by side; him valiantly scooping you into his arms and plopping you softly onto your bed each evening, his excuse being he thought you might have been a bit tired. He knew that wasn’t the case, he just revelled in the feeling of you nuzzling into his hard form, kissing him on the cheek before he retired to his own room.

“I don’t know what I can do to stop it Y/N,” Daryl whispered, bringing you out of your wandering thoughts.

“You can’t stop it,” you murmured, letting a hand sift through his long hair. “I’m okay.”

“But what if next time yer not?” he asked in a pained expression, his eyes like a wounded puppy dog.

You shrugged nonchalantly. “Same could be said for you. We live in the apocalypse Daryl, no one knows if they’ll be here tomorrow. Stop worrying about the ‘what ifs’ and just be here in the now, please.”

Your begging tone made his eyes snap up to yours, a small nod following after.

Your hand that was tangled in his hair came down to cup his cheek, the pad of your thumb tracing his cheekbone.

Daryl couldn’t help himself, he turned into your touch, skin tingling at the feather light touch of your fingers running across his face, pressing a lingering kiss to your palm, lips trailing back and forth.

You felt a jolt of electricity spark through your veins at his caress, acting on instinct as you tugged at his jaw, ushering his face closer to your own.

Daryl quickly understood what you were doing, no words exchanged between you as he tilted his head gradually towards yours. You could feel your heart fluttering, in the best way possible, as Daryl’s eyes closed, breaching the last of the distance between you.

His lips were soft and willing, moving with slow, deep movements that had you yearning for more.

His hand skimmed the side of your neck, holding you close to him as he finally pulled away.

“I love you.” The words were out of your mouth before you even had a chance to think about them and you wanted to face palm yourself for even allowing them to slip free.

“Love ya too, Y/N,” he rasped with a quirk of a smile, noticing the blush tinting your cheeks.

You grinned widely at his words, pressing a chaste kiss to his mouth.

“Ya really do need ta rest now though,” he said noting the moon high in the sky from the infirmary window, reluctantly pulling away. “I’ll be here when ya wake,” he promised.

You finally conceded, listening to your body that was already trying to lull you to sleep, turning on your good side to face Daryl with your eyes closed, a smile gracing your lips as Daryl intertwined his fingers with yours.

#gif not mine #daryl x reader #daryl x you #daryl dixon #daryl imagine #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x you #twd #the walking dead #twd imagine

101 notes · View notes

allofbeercom · 6 years ago

Text

Khizr Khan on being vilified by Trump: ‘The far right feels that their voice has been heard’

When the father of a Muslim American soldier killed in Iraq spoke at the Democratic national convention in July, he found himself under fire from Donald Trump. Since then, Khan has been bombarded with hate mail and even asked to run for office

As you look out from Khizr Khans home in Virginia, the Blue Ridge mountains sweep magnificently to one side. Monticello, Thomas Jeffersons idyllic estate, is a few miles in the other direction. And in between, still spiked into his neighbour Richards front lawn, is a plastic campaign sign that says TRUMP.

Maybe hes going to leave it up for the next four years, says Khan, with a smile that turns into a sigh. Shaking his head, he takes a sip of tea and reaches for a small box of chocolates.

It is a month since the man who taunted Khan and his wife Ghazala following their headline-making appearance at the Democratic convention was elected to the worlds most powerful office, and reminders of Trumps victory are everywhere.

But around the Khans living room, so too are mementos of having lived through much worse. Their late son Humayun stares down from one wall, handsome and steadfast in his army portrait. His posthumous Bronze Star and Purple Heart awards are nearby. Humayun, a captain who was killed defending his unit from a suicide bomber in Iraq in 2004, would have turned 40 this year. We miss him so very much, says Khan.

Still, Khan is shaken by Trumps win and a subsequent spike in hate crimes across the US. Muslim friends say their children are being bullied. A doctor from Long Island told him a new patient refused to be treated by her when he saw her headscarf. Hostility toward Muslims is more intense than at any time since Khan arrived in the US in 1980, he says.

The far right feels that their voice has been heard and they have a licence to commit these crimes, he says. I have seen the fear of immigrants heighten after turmoil in the past. But never to this degree.

Khan has taken advice from the police about securing his home. He advises the women in his family not to travel alone. He is furious at Trump for not doing more to help. These are your people, whom you have encouraged to commit these crimes, he says. You have a responsibility as a leader to end it.

Rather than move to calm the anti-Muslim fervour, Trump has made one of its most prominent advocates his national security adviser. Mike Flynn, a retired army lieutenant general who described Islam as a vicious cancer and said fear of Muslims is rational, will help Trump direct US military policy. Suggesting that Flynn is ill, mentally, Khan is deeply concerned about the implications for foreign relations.

Not that the appointment should be surprising. Having dismissed Mexican migrants as rapists and criminals in his first campaign speech, Trump told voters rattled by terrorist attacks in California and Paris that he would ban all Muslims from entering the US. He later proposed barring only those from countries compromised by extremism.

Khan doesnt expect Trump to actually implement the ban, nor a new registry of Muslims he also floated. These were more likely cynical ploys to get votes from the simple-minded people that fell for it, he says. But damage has still been done.

It was Trumps announcement of the Muslim ban last year that led a reporter to call Khan, who was quoted hailing his sons patriotism and sharply criticising Trump. Muslims are American, Muslims are citizens, he said. An aide to Hillary Clinton saw the article, and invited Khan to appear at Julys convention in Philadelphia. His six-minute speech, with Ghazala at his side, caused a sensation.

Khizr Khan gives a stirring speech at the Democratic convention in honor of his son, Humayun

You have sacrificed nothing and no one, he told Trump, who avoided serving in Vietnam because of alleged bone spurs on his feet. Waving a miniature US constitution that hed pulled from his jacket pocket, Khan asked Trump if hed even read the document. I will gladly lend you my copy, he said, to thundering applause. Khan keeps a stack of the booklets on a table beneath Humayuns portrait. Visitors struggle to leave without one.

Incapable of letting a slight go unanswered, Trump called Khan very emotional and suggested he didnt allow Ghazala to speak because of their religion. He moaned on Twitter: Mr Khan, who does not know me, viciously attacked me from the stage of the DNC and is now all over TV doing the same Nice!

Horrified Republicans disowned Trump. Khan said he had a black soul. The dispute was pencilled in as a chapter in the political obituary Trump seemed to be writing for himself.

Things turned out differently. As the results rolled in last month, the Khans were VIP guests at Clintons election night event in Manhattan, where Ghazala was treated as a rockstar by actual rockstars. A lady comes to Mrs Khan and says: Mrs Khan, can I take a picture with you?, he recalls. She pulled the hood on her hoodie down and it was Cher. Katy Perry and Lady Gaga did the same, he said.

But then, it all got quieter. Tearful supporters, who had been dancing in the aisles, traipsed out of the hall as the outcome became clear.

Khan, 66 and on a break from work as a legal consultant, has tried to stay upbeat by stepping up a speaking tour that grew out of his convention appearance. He has been preaching tolerance and pluralism to schoolchildren across the US. Never be disheartened, he tells them.

The packed schedule has exhausted him. Sniffing and coughing, he visibly drains over the course of our two-hour conversation. He is posing for photographs with a team of Japanese journalists as I arrive; an evening function beckons after I leave.

But he is energised by encounters while traversing the country as a recognisable face. Sitting in the eighth row on a recent flight home from Ohio, he was approached by two men sitting in first class. They shook his hand and offered him their seats. We voted for Trump, but we want to thank you, they told him. He politely declined.

As we speak, Ghazala, 65, is busy with one of their four grandchildren, who are between eight months and five years old. She and Khan were born in Pakistan and met at university in Lahore. They came to the US after a spell in Dubai, and live in a smart but unflashy four-bedroom house on a tranquil bluff a few miles outside Charlottesville. They have two adult sons, who advised them against getting involved in politics.

Sinking slowly into his sofa, Khan says the volume of abusive emails he received following the convention has declined, but he still deals with a couple of racist messages each day. He wont show the worst, saying he erases them. In one new arrival on his iPhone, though, a man named Scott Glover felt the need to gleefully remind Khan: Trump won the election and you, Hillary and the rest of the deplorable libs lost.

Rightwing websites including Breitbart News, run until recently by Trumps top adviser, went after the Khans with undisguised venom following the convention. One spurious story, based on a 33-year-old essay Khan wrote, claimed he championed sharia law. Another accused him of taking money from the Clintons. It was actually another lawyer named Khan.

Such was the vitriol that Clinton, who knows a bit about brutal media coverage, asked him when they met at a rally in New Hampshire: Oh my God, how are you putting up with all this? He told her it was worth it, and she assured him: Youre doing something good. He has no regrets about entering the political warzone: There comes a time when one has to take a stand.

Khan at his sons grave. Photograph: Brendan Smialowski/Getty Images

And much of the response has been cheering. Their dining room table is covered in fanmail from across the world. Letters addressed with only their names and Charlottesville now find their way to the house. Khan is particularly proud of one letter, which he pulls from an A4 brown envelope. Mayor of London, the header says.

As Salaamu Alaikum, meaning peace be unto you, the two-page handwritten letter from Sadiq Khan begins. Saying that he was deeply moved by the convention speech, Londons first Muslim mayor tells Khan it demonstrated the power of diversity, tolerance and liberty.

These great American values are also Islamic values, the mayor writes, and your determination to live by these values has inspired many Londoners of all faiths and backgrounds.

A bitter argument has broken out among Democrats since Clintons defeat about whether she spent too much time on these issues of identity and not enough appealing to struggling white males from the rust belt. Khan sides with those who dismiss this as a false dichotomy.

I am biased, he says, but sometimes a moral stand has to be taken, and its worth the cost. I am glad that she spoke up. I believe in equal dignity. We all have equal rights regardless of our gender or our preferences.

Nonetheless, Khan, a political independent who voted for both Ronald Reagan and Bill Clinton, does think Hillary also failed to stress the dangers of Trumps wild economic threats against China to the farmers and factory workers of the midwest.

You will not be able to sell your soybeans if we have a trade war with China, he says. They will rot right here, and we will have the same people who voted Trump in standing outside the White House trying to throw him out.

He makes the case better than Clinton did, but has no interest in running for office. He reveals Terry McAuliffe, Virginias governor and a close ally of the Clintons, asked him to. But it would limit me, he says. Just let me speak. He is also, he notes, still not a Democrat.

It may be the tiredness talking, or the practised search for optimism of a parent who has lived through the worst possible grief. But Khan veers from despair about Trumps election to predictions that maybe it wont be as bad as it seems. We just have to hang in there a little longer, he says. When he moves to Washington, things will surely be different.

One thing hes sure about, though, is Trump needs to come off Twitter. Khan stays away from social media, having seen its perils. In his legal career, Khan specialises in electronic evidence discovery. In one case he worked on, a driver involved in a deadly 2007 vehicle crash was told by his lawyer to erase a Facebook photo showing him holding a beer and wearing a T-shirt that read I Hot Moms. But the other side had already downloaded it. The lawyer is now serving a five-year suspension.

Nobody is telling Trump the damage it can do, says Khan. He does not, however, offer his services as a consultant to the president-elect.

At a loss for many more words of his own, Khan unfolds a printout he shows his student audiences. It is a quotation by Elie Wiesel, the writer and Auschwitz survivor, who died in July. It is what he believes.

We must always take sides, Wiesel said. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented. Sometimes we must interfere.

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/%e2%80%8bkhizr-khan-on-being-vilified-by-trump-the-far-right-feels-that-their-voice-has-been-heard/

0 notes

samanthasroberts · 7 years ago

Text

My Husband Isn’t My “Type”and He’s Definitely Not My Best Friend

“Is your husband really, truly your best friend? Really? Because mine isnt.”

ByRobin O’Bryant

Im going to need everyone who has posted a Facebook status along the lines of, Happy Anniversary to my best friend and the love of my life! to form a line, so that in an orderly fashion, I can walk down said line and thump each of you right in the middle of your foreheads.

Is your husband really, truly your best friend? Really?

Because mine isnt.

When people ask me how I met my husband, I usually just say, Church. You need to know someone pretty well before you say something like, God told me he was my husband and even though Im not used to hearing voices, I just went for it! Whats to lose, amiright?!

It was the summer of 1997, I was 19 years old and spending the break working in the office of a new evangelical church my mother had started attending.

My parents had just gone through a shocking divorce, and by shocking, let me just say that to this very day, almost 20 years after their divorce, Ive never heard my parents argue. Ever. They woke us up one fine Alabama Saturday morning and told us they had gotten a divorce a few weeks earlier and my dad was moving out. There was no warning shot fired, no attempt at counseling or reconciliation, just that one sucker punch when we werent paying attention. A year later, I broke up with my boyfriend of four years and my heart was still tender from both events.

Maybe I was naive to think I could bargain with God, but nevertheless, I laid out my terms in my journal:

Ill never give my heart away again. Im giving it to you. Maybe Im ridiculous to never want to date again, but if you could just give me a sign or something when I meet my husbandTHEN Ill date him and fall in love. I dont want to risk picking the wrong person again. After everything…I dont trust my own judgment. So a burning bush? Im not in a hurry. Im ready to go all Sister Mary Clarence about this (thats a Sister Act jokeGod gets me). So, please. Smoke signals? Something…

Before I headed back for the next semester, my older brother Matt and I decided to go to Texas for a Christian motorcycle rally with a family from our new church. (And yes, I do realize this story is getting weirder by the second.) It was kind of a Christian convention meets county fair/campgrounds, but with former Hells Angels who have converted and love JesusIm sure you have the perfect mental picture.

We borrowed a tent, loaded Matts car and joined a caravan of cars following the OBryant family to Texas. One of their sons, Zeb, was a year younger than me. But even if I hadnt been in my Sister Mary Clarence phase, I wouldnt have looked at him twice.

Zeb wasnt my type. My type was clean cut and all-American, the kind who wore lots of Polo shirts and khaki pants, possibly played golf and most definitely was a member of Key Club. Zeb rode a metallic blue 1976 Harley-Davidson everywhere he went, had a goatee that was a little longer than I thought sanitary and his naturally brown hair was bleached blonde and spiked in a manner not unlike Edward Cullensor Edward Scissorhands, for that matter.

Regardless, meeting Zeb began a weekend-long love affair with his vintage Harley-Davidson and Texas back roads. Every time Zeb jumped on his bike, hed give me a nod, Id hop on and wed take off. The rumble of the Harley and the twisting roads through the Hill Country almost hypnotized me. The wind blasted my face and ratted my hair as the sun warmed my jeans. I was careful to keep my hands gently on Zebs hips and to not lean too close against himSister Mary Clarence didnt want to inadvertently press any boobage against his back and give him the wrong idea.

We were sitting in a tent revival type of meetingfolding chairs and open air with the stars hanging low and lazy in the night sky. Our faces were still grey with the road dust and we smelled sweetly of sunshine and gasoline. I was sitting there with my Bible open on my lap when I had a crazy thought:

My husband is here somewhere…

My eyes scanned the crowd and as they did, they fell on Zeb, who was sitting to my right, ripped jeans and motorcycle boots propped on the chair in front of him. Now Im not saying I heard an audible voice, but something deep inside of me clearly shouted, Its him.

I knew from that moment on I would marry him. And its a damn good thing I was hearing voices that nightotherwise I wouldve totally missed it.

Zeb is my polar opposite. Hes an extrovert; Im an introvert. He loves nature and the outdoors; Ive wondered if I could get a PhD in Netflix. Hes calm, steady and always in a good mood. Im creative, a roller-coaster of emotions and quite franklyprone to hysterics.

I want a best friend who will tell me I need one more pair of shoes and a man who will remind me to save for my retirement account. I want to call my best friend when I feel Ive been wronged and hear her say, What a b*tch! I cant believe she said that to you! I want to be married to a man who says, Who gives a sh*t what she thinks? And I want to get into bed at night with a man who ignites things in me no one else can.

Zeb isnt my best friend.

I have never been so angry at my best friend that I fantasized about throwing a lamp or other miscellaneous piece of furniture at her head. I cant say the same for ole Zeb. For example, once our 3-year-old had walking pneumonia. Sadie was running a fever, listless and refused to drink anything. I tried all manner of juices, an assortment of sippy cups and silly straws all to no avail.

Zeb, will you go to the store and get some Popsicles? I asked.

Do you really think she needs sugar when shes this sick?

I think she needs any type of fluid she can get down because shes going to get dehydrated. So yes, I think she needs Popsicles. I replied.

Give her some water, Zeb advised.

I HAVE.

Try some juice.

Really Zeb? Ive tried everything. Thats why I need Popsicles. I was starting to get pretty pissed.

I just dont think she needs sugar. He said, again.

Noted. Now go to the store and get Popsicles. Please. I said please out loud but in my head I was screaming, YOU SOB!

He was as mad as all get out, but he went to the storevictory was mine! Sadie would be hydrated! All was well with the world…until he walked in the door carrying a box of 200 Otter Pops that werent even frozen.

Is this really happening?! I yelled, What the hell? POPSICLES, Zeb! Why is that so hard?

These ARE Popsicles! He yelled back.

No they arent! Theyll be Popsicles in 36-48 hours but they are most certainly NOT Popsicles right now! Why didnt you get frozen ones?

He looked me straight in the eye and said, I didnt know you could buy them that way.

Are you sure thats how you want to play this? Do you really want me to believe youre that stupid? I asked.

I dont know that Ive ever been so completely filled with rage. Over freaking Popsicles.

But thats the way it is with me and Zebwe are passionate and stubborn. Sometimes I think I might see myself on an episode of Dateline, Josh Mankiewicz strolling down our street as a camera pans wide and says,In the small town of Greenwood, Mississippi, everything looked perfect for Zeb and Robin OBryant…until one day, in a fit of rage, Robin did the unthinkable…

But then, in a split second, Zeb is there with eyes the exact same amber brown assunshine filtered through a beer bottle. He wraps his arms around me while Im standing at the stove cooking dinner. Hekisses my neck and his beard tickles my skin, Sorry, he whispers. And I melt.

Zeb isnt my best friend. Depending on the movie I want to see, Ill ditch him in a second for my girlfriends. But when things gets real, I dont care if anyone is standing with me but him. Hes my partner, my equal and without a doubt, my better half. Zeb is the peanut butter to my jelly, the yin to my yang, the spiritual Xanax to my eight-ball of coke.

Im also going to need all of you people who say, Thanks for the best 15 years of my life! to stand in a separate corner and await your own punishment, because marriage isnt easy, and it most certainly isnt all happy.

Id rather say:

I really appreciate you driving me to therapy every week.

Thanks for not leaving me when I act like a lunatic.

“Thanks for acting like you thought I was sexy for the last 16 years even though Ive gained and lost hundreds of pounds and my stretch marks look like a topographical map of the Rocky Mountains.

I have lots of friends, hell, I even have lots of best friends…but there is and will always be, only one Zeb. Hes my husband and thats enough.

About the Author: Robin O’Bryant is the The New Times best-selling author of Ketchup is a Vegetable and Other Lies Moms Tell Themselves. You can follow her on FaceBook as Robin O’Bryantor Twitter.

Source: http://allofbeer.com/2017/06/10/my-husband-isnt-my-typeand-hes-definitely-not-my-best-friend/

from All of Beer https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2017/06/10/my-husband-isnt-my-typeand-hes-definitely-not-my-best-friend/

0 notes

jimdsmith34 · 7 years ago

Text

My Husband Isn’t My “Type”and He’s Definitely Not My Best Friend

“Is your husband really, truly your best friend? Really? Because mine isnt.”

ByRobin O’Bryant

Is your husband really, truly your best friend? Really?

Because mine isnt.

It was the summer of 1997, I was 19 years old and spending the break working in the office of a new evangelical church my mother had started attending.

Maybe I was naive to think I could bargain with God, but nevertheless, I laid out my terms in my journal:

My husband is here somewhere…

I knew from that moment on I would marry him. And its a damn good thing I was hearing voices that nightotherwise I wouldve totally missed it.

Zeb isnt my best friend.

Zeb, will you go to the store and get some Popsicles? I asked.

Do you really think she needs sugar when shes this sick?

I think she needs any type of fluid she can get down because shes going to get dehydrated. So yes, I think she needs Popsicles. I replied.

Give her some water, Zeb advised.

I HAVE.

Try some juice.

Really Zeb? Ive tried everything. Thats why I need Popsicles. I was starting to get pretty pissed.

I just dont think she needs sugar. He said, again.

Noted. Now go to the store and get Popsicles. Please. I said please out loud but in my head I was screaming, YOU SOB!

Is this really happening?! I yelled, What the hell? POPSICLES, Zeb! Why is that so hard?

These ARE Popsicles! He yelled back.

No they arent! Theyll be Popsicles in 36-48 hours but they are most certainly NOT Popsicles right now! Why didnt you get frozen ones?

He looked me straight in the eye and said, I didnt know you could buy them that way.

Are you sure thats how you want to play this? Do you really want me to believe youre that stupid? I asked.

I dont know that Ive ever been so completely filled with rage. Over freaking Popsicles.

Id rather say:

I really appreciate you driving me to therapy every week.

Thanks for not leaving me when I act like a lunatic.

“Thanks for acting like you thought I was sexy for the last 16 years even though Ive gained and lost hundreds of pounds and my stretch marks look like a topographical map of the Rocky Mountains.

I have lots of friends, hell, I even have lots of best friends…but there is and will always be, only one Zeb. Hes my husband and thats enough.

source http://allofbeer.com/2017/06/10/my-husband-isnt-my-typeand-hes-definitely-not-my-best-friend/ from All of Beer http://allofbeer.blogspot.com/2017/06/my-husband-isnt-my-typeand-hes.html

0 notes

adambstingus · 7 years ago

Text

My Husband Isn’t My “Type”and He’s Definitely Not My Best Friend

“Is your husband really, truly your best friend? Really? Because mine isnt.”

ByRobin O’Bryant

Is your husband really, truly your best friend? Really?

Because mine isnt.

It was the summer of 1997, I was 19 years old and spending the break working in the office of a new evangelical church my mother had started attending.

Maybe I was naive to think I could bargain with God, but nevertheless, I laid out my terms in my journal:

My husband is here somewhere…

I knew from that moment on I would marry him. And its a damn good thing I was hearing voices that nightotherwise I wouldve totally missed it.

Zeb isnt my best friend.

Zeb, will you go to the store and get some Popsicles? I asked.

Do you really think she needs sugar when shes this sick?

I think she needs any type of fluid she can get down because shes going to get dehydrated. So yes, I think she needs Popsicles. I replied.

Give her some water, Zeb advised.

I HAVE.

Try some juice.

Really Zeb? Ive tried everything. Thats why I need Popsicles. I was starting to get pretty pissed.

I just dont think she needs sugar. He said, again.

Noted. Now go to the store and get Popsicles. Please. I said please out loud but in my head I was screaming, YOU SOB!

Is this really happening?! I yelled, What the hell? POPSICLES, Zeb! Why is that so hard?

These ARE Popsicles! He yelled back.

No they arent! Theyll be Popsicles in 36-48 hours but they are most certainly NOT Popsicles right now! Why didnt you get frozen ones?

He looked me straight in the eye and said, I didnt know you could buy them that way.

Are you sure thats how you want to play this? Do you really want me to believe youre that stupid? I asked.

I dont know that Ive ever been so completely filled with rage. Over freaking Popsicles.

Id rather say:

I really appreciate you driving me to therapy every week.

Thanks for not leaving me when I act like a lunatic.

“Thanks for acting like you thought I was sexy for the last 16 years even though Ive gained and lost hundreds of pounds and my stretch marks look like a topographical map of the Rocky Mountains.

I have lots of friends, hell, I even have lots of best friends…but there is and will always be, only one Zeb. Hes my husband and thats enough.

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/2017/06/10/my-husband-isnt-my-typeand-hes-definitely-not-my-best-friend/ from All of Beer https://allofbeercom.tumblr.com/post/161673020527

0 notes

grubhivemind · 8 years ago

Text

RYAN: -it's reached that point in the party where everyone starts to trickle out, until even her parents have decided to retire for the evening. ryan just wonders when jack is going to wander off too, or...-

RYAN: -chinhands at him from where she's still sitting at the table.- hm...

RYAN: do you wanna come inside?

JACK: -eating up the last of the slice from the cake his dad had sent over.- ...Oh.

JACK: Must be dark now, huh.

RYAN: yep.

RYAN: you might have noticed its getting a tid bit nippy out here too. -nudges him.- you can eat that inside.

JACK: No need. I'm done. -gathers up the empty plate and trash, ambling out of his chair.- I believe you about the nippy thing.

RYAN: -hops up and takes his arm to guide him.- you impervious to the cold or something? -pokes at his chest and shuffles across the yard back into the house.-

JACK: It's my preference, weather wise. You probably wouldn't believe it with my choice of wardrobe. But it's true.

JACK: -follows her back, trusting her to show him where to go.-

RYAN: mm. makes sense to me.

RYAN: i like it better when things heat up though.

RYAN: -enters the house, navigating towards the living room where derek is... until he passed out in the middle of his show, snoozing away loudly on his recliner. as dads do.-

RYAN: ... -she doesn't want to disturb him, so she takes jack up to her room.-

JACK: Hah. Strategic. Classic. -totally hears Derek asleep and appreciates the dad tier he's achieving. Jack will have to remember to commend him on it later. As Ryan hauls him up to her room, Jack leans at her.- (Ten out of ten.) -says while thumbing back at the living room.-

RYAN: -snrk- hed appreciate you saying so.

RYAN: -steps on inside into her room.- well make yourself at home. -nudges him in the direction of her bed, as it's the only place to sit at the moment. aside from the bench at her keyboard, that is. and while he makes himself at home (if he does) she turns on her own tv for a little bit of background noise.-

JACK: -Might as well. He's taking off the sandals and everything.- Done. -keeps his hand to the wall, finding his way to the bed and perching there.- And done.

JACK: -swishes his butt on her bed, much like she did on his the other night.- Cozy.

RYAN: -smiles watching him. what a fucking dork... no, these are thoughts that need said.- what a fucking dork.

RYAN: -flops beside him, joining him in the wiggles and getting comfortable.-

JACK: I definitely smell like the musk of the outdoors and fire.

JACK: And so do you, for that matter. -sniffs her shoulder like a wierdo.-

RYAN: -he is a weirdo.- hmm. -leans in and sniffs him back. this is just what they do now apparently.-

RYAN: smells nice.

RYAN: except youve got that faint stench of sweat. probably from your dumb ass trying to scale a fence because??? why. -snickers as she leans against him.-

JACK: To test my abilities. -enjoys it when she leans at him. A happy Jack.- I would kill for a shower though.

RYAN: no need to go to such extremes. you can always use mine if its so dire. -pokes at him-

JACK: It's pretty dire. I reek. -gently karate chops her hand from poking him. Hiyah.-

RYAN: my hand!!!! -whines, but then takes up his hand in hers-

RYAN: its not that bad. but then again i dont have a heightened sense of smell.

RYAN: for all i know i reek too.

JACK: No, you do. We've established this. -tilts his head and listens to the tv now.- What are we watching?

RYAN: reeking of a nice outdoorsy smell yeah... which is reeking none the less i guess.

RYAN: -glances at the tv- but anyway i just turned it on for the noise.

RYAN: im not exactly interested in watching anything... -plays with his fingers, fidgeting a little-

JACK: -smacks his lips a little and hmms, registering her little fidgets. Catches on almost immediately.-

JACK: I didn't realize you had a thing about musty smells and cake breath.

JACK: Oh. And your parents' house. With a dad that sleeps like a war veteren.

RYAN: -SHOVES- god youre such a pain in the ass.

RYAN: -huffs but smiles.- makes me wonder why i missed you so much this past week. -removes a few more blades of grass from his wild hair that she missed earlier.-

JACK: -is shoved, reclining back to lean against an elbow. Pleased by her little nitpickings.- Thanks.

JACK: I try my best.

JACK: But honestly. If Citrin hadn't intervened earlier, I probably would have said a thing or two to Sileas.

JACK: -trails off, fiddling with his fingers.- I am a pain in the ass.

JACK: -waves his hand around.- It was harmless talking. But I saw. I mean...

JACK: I see things I don't necessarily want to. And it's irksome. I dunno.

JACK: Maybe it was the general attitude of the guy, the same kind that leads him to make some bad decisions.

JACK: I also realize you don't want to hear about this. We were talking about something else entirely.

RYAN: -blinks, a little surprised to hear him rambling about this... but pleasantly so. she lies down on her side, propping her head up on her hand and watching him speak.-

RYAN: sure... its a totally different mood but hey i dont mind.

RYAN: like i said. i just missed you. so... -messes with the hem of his shirt idly-

RYAN: talk to me.

JACK: Well now I don't want to. -pretends to grump but really just closes his eyes.-

RYAN: pff... oh really??? -she's not buying it. wiggles closer to him and gets an arm around his middle.-

RYAN: i bet i could persuade you to open up.

JACK: What's worse is that I'm associating this to Sileas.

JACK: That meme generating motherfucker.

RYAN: -rests her head against him, peering up at him curiously.- associating what?

JACK: Your meek persuasions to get me to open up.

RYAN: -snorts- well maybe if you told me whats bugging you we wont have to focus so much on him...

RYAN: id really like to be able to hit on you without either of us having to deal with the thought of sileas cropping up and killing the mood.

JACK: Nothing is bothering me about him. It's just an intrusive thought. -hesitates a moment before continuing.- ....I also realize rehab was a very recent occurance for you. And you're still trying to make it back on your feet.

JACK: ...

JACK: I'm not sure...

JACK: I should be complicating this for you.

JACK: As tempting as it is. -ghhhh, he feels himself sound like an asshole.- I'd like...

JACK: To not feel bad about hanging out with you. Or enjoying your company.

JACK: Talking.

JACK: That stuff.

RYAN: -frowns into his shirt. it takes her a moment to think of what to say, ultimately sighing.- youre not complicating anything.

RYAN: but if you dont wanna talk about this stuff then its whatever.

RYAN: i just wanna hang out with you.

JACK: Not the talking. It's more the...

JACK: Tempting you with bad decisions part. -Yells at himself internally for being like a tool when he speaks. This is why he doesn't words, he tells himself.- Not that it's a bad decision.

JACK: It's a... precarious situation.

JACK: Also, I'm full of regret.

RYAN: -scoffs- please...

RYAN: i mean i guess i get it. -sits up a little- maybe.

RYAN: you usually seem to know things i dont. either that or youre just overthinking. maybe both sometimes?

RYAN: i dunno. -traces a finger over his chest- but it seems pretty harmless to me. just fooling around a little.

RYAN: correct me if im wrong.

RYAN: ... or if im overstepping boundaries or something.

JACK: -squeezes the hand that rests by his chest, eyebrows knitting.- It's not.... just fooling around to me.

JACK: It's an aspect of our uh.

JACK: Relationship.

JACK: That I'd like to enjoy when we've finished patching up the rest of it.

RYAN: -oh... well, that brings a smile back to her face that she hides by burying it against him. not that she needs to, but whatever.- oh okay.

RYAN: -squeezes his hand back.- im cool with that.

JACK: -exhales after a moment, patting her hand.- It sucks. I'm a dweeb.

RYAN: yeah you are.

RYAN: -comes out of hiding to nuzzle a little under his chin.- but its cute.

RYAN: ... and i appreciate it.

JACK: Thanks.

JACK: Now I don't know what to do with myself. -SIGHS- That shower sounds really great.

RYAN: yeah. go take a nice cold shower. -snickers-

RYAN: jesus or maybe i should.

RYAN: in any case i can direct you that way.

RYAN: and youre free to crash here too if you want. might as well return that favor finally.

#invincibleDetective #primadonnaTartuffe #in which slow down maurice

0 notes