#if any of his kit seems busted its because i do not have the brains for balanced meta i just pulled numbers from existing characters

[b1rdthieves]

started playing hsr again, thought i should post my hsr sona.

[itstittycitybaby]

From the Ashes we are Born (Part 9)

 A/N: First things first if you read this through you are now a sinner sorry I don’t make the rules. Secondly, thank you @lazy-potato-author​ for this request! I hope you enjoy it! I have another request that will be out either this weekend or in the beginning of next weekend, so make sure to keep an eye out for that. After I get these requests out I might take some more it just depends on my schedule. This is a smut fic but V is not railing you in this one, because with a bullet wound it’s just not gonna happen lmao. Also, V is a switch and no you cannot tell me otherwise. Anyways I hope you guys enjoy reading this!

Warnings: smut, nsfw 18+. Fingering, bit of dirty talk and praise. Enjoy my fellow sinners.

V grunted; one of chancellor’s men had managed to pelt him with a bullet. Thankfully, it didn’t hit anything important but it hurt like hell. V winced when he tried to laugh. The trouble he would be in once he got home to his darling was something he admittedly was looking forward to. Not the scolding, or the lecturing, but being able to see your face again. V’s right hand held tightly over the wound as he hobbled back to the shadow gallery. He couldn’t tell if he was bleeding badly thanks to his attire, but the sharp pain did not ease. It felt hot, like it was burning him. V laughed bitterly which caused him to wheeze. He knew too much about fire and how its unforgiving flames swept over your skin. V cursed himself; he promised he would be more careful from now on. Just a bit of a ways farther, he told himself.

“V!” He jumped at the voice of his love. Your eyes shifted to the hand holding his side as he leaned on the dining table. “Hello there darling,” V wheezed out, wincing. There was a simmer of anger in your eyes as you watched your boyfriend lean on the table for support. Godammit, you thought. He just got home! “V, what happened?” He didn’t say anything as he removed his daggers and hat and placed them on the table. You worried over him like a mother hen which made his heart swell at the thought. Though, he couldn’t help but feel guilty. V grunted, “I think I got shot.” “You think?!” You sighed turning away from your masked boyfriend. “Stay right there I’m getting the first aid kit,” you shouted over you, dashing towards the bathroom. Cursing, you grabbed it from under the sink and hurried to V. His breathing sounded irregular and he was gripping onto the table. The leather gloves were gone and his scarred hands turned white from the pressure he was putting on the edge of the table. The pads of your feet burned from running so fast but you didn’t care. “V I’m gonna need you to sit down.” “I-I can take care of it my darling, y-you...need some rest.” With a heated glare you repeated, “Sit.” V shrunk, which caused another grunt. Gently, you slung your arm around the good part of his torso and led him to a kitchen chair. You set the first aid kit on the table beside the belt of daggers and V’s hat. One layer down. “V..you’re not gonna like this but we’re gonna have to take off your tunic.” Silence. “V,” you said softly. “I need to look at the wound before it gets worse.” He sighed, causing him to curse softly in pain. “Alright, my darling,” he replied. There was a hint of sadness in his tone.

 Giving him a reassuring smile and a kiss on his head, you helped your boyfriend shimmie out of the top. V let out a hiss as the tunic sank onto his wound. “Sorry,” you said sheepishly, being more careful to get him out of the damn thing. The blood made the tunic stick to the wound and really it was just a sticky gross mess in general. A gasp threatened to claw its way out of your throat once you got the tunic off. V’s chest was burned, heavily burned. There were scars littered across it with an angry reddish colour. You swallowed your surprise, though. V was already ashamed and insecure. V’s head was low, refusing to look at you in the eye. Even with his scars, he was still beautiful. “V,” you whispered. “You’re beautiful.” His head shot up out of surprise. A groan left his lips as a flare of pain flashed him.“Right sorry,” you exclaimed, remembering why the both of you were here in the first place. Grabbing your supplies you knelt down in front of him. “Stay still as best as you can, if you need something to hold onto you can squeeze my shoulder,” you muttered.

You’re beautiful. The pain was sharp but dulled once he kept replaying your words in his head. V was anything but beautiful; he has blood on his hands. His skin was far from beauty. Disgusting. Mortifying. Every time he saw himself in the mirror he couldn’t help but sneer. His angel had to be lying to him. V’s head perked up at the sound of gauze being unwrapped. “After this you should be done,” you said. “Just be careful; we don’t want the stitches to bust, so no moving around without me,”  you softly chided. “You have to be more careful V. I don’t want something bad to happen to you.” He didn’t say anything, just kept trying to focus on the feeling of being patched up. The wound just throbbed now and to his right the bloody bullet lay on the table. “Why do you lie to me, my darling?” The tips of your brows furrowed in confusion as you bandaged him. “What?” “You said I was beautiful, love,” V said softly , “I am many things but I do not have beauty in me.” “Yes, you do. I haven’t been this happy in years, V. You’ve shown me patience and compassion. You look at me like I’m the most perfect thing in the world. Your voice is deep and rich. I love your scars V. They tell a story. Whatever happened was awful and you shouldn’t have gone through that, but,” you said, double checking the gauze you put over his wound. “It shows that you survived something and you’re still here to tell the tale.”  There was a mischievous glint in your eye. Leaning up, you placed a kiss to his chest. V froze; his blood felt cold and underneath the mask his cheeks flushed (thank god you couldn’t see it or you’d tease him relentlessly). V’s breath hitched at the feeling of your soft lips greeting his chest with a kiss.

 You sent him a wink before getting up and putting the supplies away. “After I get back, wanna watch something,” you asked, gesturing your head to the living room. V nodded. He didn’t trust his voice right now. You sent him one last smile before heading into the living room. V was alone with his thoughts again. The only thing he could think about was your soft lips on his horrid skin.

The hot mug of tea warmed his bare hands. The Princess Bride played on the old television. The lights were off, the T.V. gave off a soft glow but other than that the both of you were surrounded in darkness. V’s darling sat comfortably next to him, her eyes glued to the screen. He couldn’t concentrate on the film playing even though he enjoyed it. He felt vulnerable and bare without his tunic. The scarred burns and roughness of his skin was a hard reminder of the torture he endured. Everyday he was reminded of the need for vengeance and the underlying anger beneath his heart. V knew you deserved better; you deserve someone who wasn’t horrid looking or angry. You were kind and loving (albeit a mischievous minx at times), who saw the good in people. Even then, you understood V’d need to restore balance and peace. England needed a new era, it’s people have suffered for too long. Whoever took up that spot was not in his hands but hopefully, he’d be able to rid London of the monsters lurking in the shadows.

V was not paying attention to the movie. Sure, it was your favorite and not his, but he was more attentive. His posture seemed tense and uncomfortable. It made you sad knowing that V thought of himself unworthy and felt insecure. Though, you could hardly blame him. The scars that covered his torso were great in numbers and his skin was angry and raw. It reminded you of the silent rage and danger hidden underneath your boyfriend’s persona. V had never hurt you and he was an amazing lover, but you could feel the hatred. The thought excited you. The anger was quiet but whenever it came out of the shadows, it was violent. Witnessing V in battle was something you always watched in awe. Slowly, you tested the waters. You shifted closer to your masked lover. Very slowly you put your head on V’s bare shoulder. He became rigid and stiff as a board but eventually he sunk into you. V’s head rested on yours; the guy fawkes mask kissing you with its lips. He seemed more relaxed but still alert to your movements as Buttercup tumbled down after Wesley. “They’re so dumb,” you giggled, the bright orange dress Buttercup wore flying behind her as she rolled down the hill. “Sure they may not be the brightest but they’re in love, darling,” V replied smoothly. You snorted, “Of course you’d be seeing the romance of it.” 

He just hummed in reply, holding you closer to him.The end of the movie was nearing. V couldn't stand it any longer. You had snuggled into his side and every so often placed small kisses over his chest. He thanked the heavens for loose fitting breeches because he started feeling a bit warm. V could see the idea formulating in your brain. It made him smirk beneath his mask. A faux innocence you had put on but V knew his darling better than anyone else. You were clever and cunning but V was faster. Gently, V placed his hand on your left thigh. V smiled in victory when he heard your breath hitch. In his peripheral vision he could see your cheeks start to get flustered as you squirmed underneath his grip. V paid no mind though; if you wanted something you would have to ask. It amused him that one little touch seemed to make you compliant. Heavens, the things he wanted to do to you. Patience, he told himself. You weren’t going to give up that easily. After a few minutes with no new tactics, you relaxed once more focusing on the movie. V’s hand didn’t stray further up. Instead it stayed there stubbornly. Once V knew for sure you were focused on the movie, he carefully brought his left hand to his face. With deft fingers he carefully untied the mask and placed it beside him.

 Oddly enough you seemed too transfixed with the movie that you didn’t notice what your scheming boyfriend was up too. The soft glow didn’t show off his features too much, so he wasn’t too worried about you suddenly turning and seeing his face.V waited patiently for a few moments and then he struck. You didn’t really think too much of him shifting around until you felt rough lips kissing your jaw. “V-V,” you asked a bit breathlessly, leaning into his chest to give him better access. V  seemed to know exactly what spots on your neck and jaw were sensitive. How he knew where to softly kiss and nibble was beyond you. Again, V proved to be perfect at doing anything. “Yes, love,” he replied, his lips kissing at the spot where your jaw met your neck. “W-what are you doing?” Your back was pressed up against him and your head laid on his shoulder. You couldn’t see his face; his head was littering your jaw with soft kisses. “Should I stop?” “N-no,” you squeaked out in reply, cheeks turning red. V’s hands trailed down your stomach towards the hem of your shirt. He chuckled at your shyness. His hair tickled your neck lightly.  Slowly, he hiked up your shirt over your breasts. Your nipples hardened as the cool air hit them. The sight made him groan. They were soft and plump. “You’re an angel my darling,” he said huskily. “Look how gorgeous you are.” V’s lips returned to your neck. A whimper escaped your lips as his clever fingers gently circled around your areola on both of your breasts. Your nipples tingled, begging to be touched. Even though your thinking started to stop and everything felt hazy you were careful not to brush up against V’s wound. A madman, you thought. You mewled as his fingers finally started rubbing and pinching your nipples. V’s teeth nipped and sucked at your neck, leaving small red bruises in his wake. 

Your cunt started to throb with need and you fought the urge to grind on his thigh for some sort of release. Suddenly, it stopped. “H-hey!” “Ah ah ah,” V tutted. “Pay attention to the film.” “B-but..” you trailed off helplessly. “Do I need to repeat myself,” V asked, voice growing lower. “If you don’t pay attention I’ll stop.” Grumbling, you turned back to the movie. V chuckled; it sounded more sinister than his usual laugh. The noise alone made you feel tingly with excitement.“Good girl,” V purred, kissing the top of your head. You shivered. V maneuvered you in front of the T.V with his chest behind your back. Immediately, his fingers found your nipples again. You whimpered as they pinched your nipples lightly and rolled them between the pads of his fingers. His lips found your ear and V gently suckled on your lobe. You tried so hard to focus on Buttercup getting married to Prince Humphry. You didn’t want your boyfriend to stop. You wanted to be good. The fogginess in your brain threatened to take over. Heat pooled in your belly and you throbbed with need. V had barely started and you were already putty in his hands. “I love these,” he rumbled, kneading your tits with his hands. “They’re soft and warm just like my darling.” You shivered at his words much to his amusement. “Please V,” you whined. “Please what angel? Use your words.” Your face heated up. “Y-you know w-what I mean.” “I’m afraid not my darling,” he replied. V was grinning behind you as he watched you trip over your words. “Hm,” V said, mockingly pretending to think. His right hand crept down to the waistband of your skirt. Your eyes widened. V’s hand sunk under the waistband of your skirt. His hand hovered over your panties and you held in your breath waiting patiently. Finally, V’s fingers rubbed small circles over your clit over the fabric. “F-fuck,” you breathed out as his index finger added a bit more pressure. 

“What was that,” V asked, movements ceasing. Irritation bubbled in your chest. “Stop teasing me V it’s not fair,” you whined, trying to buck into his hand. V laughed, giving your neck a kiss. “Tell me what you want then, my songbird.” “Can you...use your fingers and…” you trailed off, squirming from his gaze. “Oh my darling, but I am using my fingers, but apparently that’s not enough.” “V!” “Alright alright my love, I just enjoy seeing you flustered.” V’s fingers shifted your panties aside. Gently, he spread apart your cunt. You moaned as his finger rubbed gentle circles around your clit. He knows what he’s doing. It didn’t surprise you, V was spectacular in everything he did. All thoughts ceased when V’s middle finger entered you. It stung a bit but he carefully searched for that spot. And when he found it, that’s when you lurched backward into him. V grunted in pain. “Oh my god I’m so sorry! Did I accidentally-” “Darling,” he interrupted, “I’m fine, relax.” The fingers on your left hand held the arm of the couch tightly to steady yourself more. You eyes rolled in the back of your head as V’s clever fingers curled into you, the pads of his fingers hitting that spot perfectly. The pressure on your clit didn’t cease either;you weren’t focusing on the damn movie anymore but V didn’t seem to care. He littered your neck with more kisses and bites. “Fuck,” you cried out as he added another finger. “My angel is taking my fingers so well,” V cooed. 

His thumb on your clit rubbed a bit more harshly, but it felt so good. “I wonder how you’ll react to my cock. But that’s for another time.” His left hand snuck up to your left nipple again and started messing with it. Your moans filled the room and you thanked god for being so underground. V’s lips found yours, but with the pressure on your clit and his fingers rolling over your nipples you struggled kissing him back. V chuckled at this, snaking his tongue around yours and exploring your mouth with it. V’s fingers brushed against your clit and that delicious spot one more time, causing you to cum. V’s left arm curled around your stomach, making sure you wouldn’t fall. You trembled in his hold as your orgasm started to take over. V whispered praises and supported you on his lap. V’s hand left your cunt and fixed your underwear and skirt again. “You did wonderfully my darling,” V praised. Your bones felt heavy and so did your eyes. “Are you well enough to get up,” he asked gently after a few minutes. Nodding your head, you carefully slid off. To his surprise, however, you knelt in front of him, parting his thighs. “Love-” “Shh,” you cooed, eyes twinkling with mischief. “It’s your turn, my darling.”

[echoghost1]

Recreational Botany

Word Count: 3384 For: @lexosaurus

Read on AO3 and I’m only posting a snippet here because formatting on this site is just too much right now.

Summary:  It wasn't her fault. She was merely curious, had only wanted to help. She didn't mean for this to happen. She just hoped it would wear off soon.

Edit: I added the rest of the fic here! Edit: I added a summary too!

Sam had been interested in the occult and had a greenhouse. She was honestly surprised at herself for not looking into ghost plants sooner.

When they found out about Blood Blossoms, and was that the weirdest day of her life, she knew she had to know more. At first, it was just so they wouldn't be caught so unaware next time. She also needed to make sure that they really were extinct so Danny wouldn't get hurt like that again.

But then she wondered if there were other plants. Maybe there was something a little less painful, maybe even helpful.

Eventually, she found something that sounded promising. She ordered the seeds and made a space in the back of her greenhouse, as far from the entrance as she could get.

Several months, and many ghost fights later, the plant was finally ready. She trimmed a few of the small buds and placed them in a little brown bag for safekeeping.

Now she just had to figure out how to test it.

======================================================

The trio was hanging out in Sam's basement bored out of their minds because there hadn't been any ghost activity that day and they couldn't decide what to do instead.

"Man we really need to get another hobby if we're bored without ghosts," Danny said as he stared at the ceiling while he lounged on his favorite bean bag.

"Speak for yourself dude," Tucker teased, "I have plenty of hobbies."

Danny sat up and cocked a brow, "owning multiple outdated PDAs does not count as multiple hobbies."

Tucker gasped in faux shock, "Outdated? Moi? Why I never!"

"Speaking of hobbies," Sam segued before the boys could devolve into the pillow fight they were all ready to start. "I found a new plant recently and I guess since nothing else is going on we could try it out?" She suggested as she went to fetch the bag from its hiding place.

She was glad her parents hadn't noticed the false bottom in the drawer in the end table. She slipped her finger into the small notch and lifted it to reveal the spare first aid kit along with what she had come in there for.

"I was doing some research a while back and found this plant is supposed to work on ghosts," she started as she placed the little bag on the table.

Danny, who had been scooting his bean bag closer to the coffee table between them, stopped short.

“I only have a little bit here and if it bothers you we can stop right away,” she reassured.

“What’s it supposed to do?” Tucker asked and Danny nodded along, also curious.

“Well I’m not one hundred percent sure because I had to translate the book I was reading,” she started but was interrupted by Tucker, of course.

“That seems risky.”

“That’s why I only grabbed a little bit! Anyway,” she dumped the bag out onto the table, “I guess let’s just see if anything happens.”

Danny hesitantly reached out for the plant then quickly poked it as if it was a live wire. Which with his luck was probably something that could happen.

It didn’t start smoking or sparking so Danny picked up a piece to exam it closer, “Well it’s not hurting me so that’s a plus.”

“Is it doing anything at all?” Tucker asked suddenly skeptical that anything would happen.

Danny shrugged and sniffed the bit of plant between his fingers, “smells nice.”

“It’s not ‘I want to give up my free will’ nice, is it?”

Danny quickly looked up to Sam, “What? No! Why would you ask that?”

She shrugged, was it really out of the realm of possibilities?

“Maybe we should make a little ring of them and see if that does anything?” Tucker suggested.

No one could think of a reason not to so they gathered up the little bits of plant and maybe a ring that Danny could step into. She didn’t want to lose it in the carpet so they just made it on the table. Danny stepped into the ring.

And was still unaffected.

“Maybe this one is a bust after all.” Tucker shrugged.

Danny scooped up the plant buds back into the bag, “or maybe it needs to be the whole thing?” he countered to which Sam was grateful that he was on her side for this.

He rolled a single bud between his fingertips with a contemplative look on his face.

Before she could ask what he was thinking he popped it into his mouth and swallowed it whole.

“What are you doing?!” both Sam and Tucker asked with a healthy mix of shock and dismay.

“What?” he asked as if what he did wasn’t totally bizarre.

“What if that was poisonous?”

He hummed to himself, “I guess I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Then what were you thinking, man?”

“Were you even thinking?”

“I just wanted to know if it tasted the same as it smelt. I don’t know why you guys are making such a big deal about it,” he said before dropping back into the bean bag chair.

Tucker just laughed it off, “So what’s the consensus?”

But Danny didn’t answer right away. He was slowly running his hand back and forth against the carpet. Almost like he was in a trance.

“Danny?” Sam asked cautiously really hoping she didn’t just kill him. Again.

He looked up at the sound of his name but his eyes looked a little unfocused. “Yeah?”

“What did it taste like?” Tucker asked again, slowly, and just as worried as Sam felt.

“Like pomegranates. Which is weird because it didn’t smell like that.” his attention went back to the floor, “has your carpet always felt this nice?” he asked slowly rubbing both hands back and forth across the fibers.

Sam and Tucker just looked at each other but neither seemed to know what to make of that.

“You feeling alright?” Sam ventured.

He nodded, “Feel fine. Actually, “ he looked back up to them as a dazed grin slowly spread across his face, “I feel great.”

Tucker looked from Danny’s near delirious face, to the bag on the table, then back to Danny before he suppressed a snicker.

Sam glared at him, “What could possibly be so funny right now?”

“Is that a weed?” Tucker asked with a shit-eating grin on his face.

Part of her wanted to ask why he asked that, another part wanted to know why he asked with such bad grammar, and that’s when she realized what he was saying.

“Did you just quote a Vine at me?!”

Danny immediately busted up laughing. He always enjoyed a well-placed meme but he was enjoying this a little too much.

“The site said it was supposed to calm a ghost’s energies. I just thought it would make him sleepy or it would make a good painkiller.”

Tucker busted up laughing as well. “Hey Danny, what’s the vibe?”

“Chill dude! It’s so chill. We straight vibin’.” he said while attempting to make snow angels in the carpet.

Sam put her head in her hands. She did not want this. She could not have her parents come down here and see him like this. If Tucker thought he seemed high there’s no way her parents wouldn’t make that assumption too.

Then again. She dared to peak at her potentially intoxicated friend.

He was currently trying to take his shirt off by just pulling himself around the floor by his heels as his back dragged along the ground.

Oh no. He was high, wasn’t he?

“Dude, do you need help?” Tucker offered, still giggling.

Danny nodded with the dopiest grin before sitting up.

“You want that off?” Tucker asked and received the most eager nod in return. “Okay arms up,” he said as if he was directing a small child and not, in fact, a fellow teenager.

As the hem of Danny’s shirt made its way up his torso Sam’s brain finally caught up with what was happening. “What are you doing?” Sam sputtered suddenly feeling very warm.

“I don’t wanna wear that anymore. Doesn't feel nice.” Danny said with the same dorky smile.

Except now he was topless.

Danny wasn’t wearing a shirt.

Danny.

No shirt.

She’d never seen him without a shirt before.

She had hoped, thought when they first went to the waterpark last summer that she would. But he wore a tank top the whole time.

He said he sunburned easily.

But then why didn’t he wear a shirt with sleeves? Because shoulders can get sunburns. That’s normally where you would get them if you’re standing out in the sun all day.

She just assumed he was shy.

Yet here he was.

Topless.

Right in front of her.

In her house.

Why?!

Tucker was apparently not at all alarmed by this state of undress.

Then again they did have gym together so they would be changing together and-

DON’T THINK ABOUT THAT!!

“Room!” she blurted out with such force the boys were startled into paying attention to her, “We need to go to my room.”

Danny was agreeable enough and got himself off the floor. But the way he did it was more like how a toddler would. Butt first, then into a wobbly standing position.

Sam just sped walk to the stairs and ignored the stupid smug look on Tucker’s face.

======================================================

Once they were safely locked in her room Sam pulled out her laptop and tried to find the stupid site where she had gotten her terrible translation for that awful plant.

Or maybe some sort of remedy on how to get him un-high. Sober?

Tucker was sitting in her gamer chair casually turning the seat from side to side while Danny had claimed the bed. He had all of her pillows shoved into the headboard and had successfully burrito-ed himself in her comforter. “You guys ever go into the woods and look for beetles?”

Sam stopped mid-type and just stared straight ahead. He was about to say something stupid, wasn’t he?

“I like the way they cronch.”

“Danny no.” Sam wasn’t sure how much more of this she could take.

Tucker accidentally sent himself into a slow spin as he laughed, “Are you eating bugs?”

“You try flying at over a hundred miles fast and not get a belly full of bugs.”

“Close your mouth maybe?” Sam suggested despite knowing he would find a way to counter it.

“But how will I make joke?”

Ah, there it is.

“Are we just going to glaze over the fact that he started this conversation off by asking if we go into the woods to hunt for beetles?!” Tucker asks, finally getting his laughter under control.

“What, I’m supposed to watch Bear Grylls eat a bug and not want to try one myself?

“You are legit feral!”

"Y'all just picky eaters."

"Y'all?!"

"My aunt is from Arkansas, I think that makes me legally allowed to use Southern-isms."

"This is the best thing that's ever happened!" Tucker hugged his sides as he laughed, "We should have got you high earlier. This is the funniest you've ever been."

"Aw, thanks, Tuck," Danny said bashfully before he threw the blanket off himself and crawled off the bed. "Hug time!"

"Wait, what?" was all Tucker had time to say before Danny sat in his lap, wrapped his arms around him, and nuzzled into his neck.

Danny hummed contentedly, "You're warm."

"Well maybe if you hadn't taken your shirt off you'd be warm too?"

"No. It made me feel gross. Pants do too." He muttered with a grumpy pout.

"Please keep your pants on!" Sam begged because she knew she wouldn't survive if he didn't.

"Boo." He huffed as he crossed his arms.

"Danny, you're still sitting on me."

"Yeah, I know."

"Why?"

"Because you looked lonely." He looked down at his lap as he twiddled his fingers together, "and I figured we'd be less lonely together."

Oh no, that was really cute.

"Thanks man, but I think I'm good now."

"Oh, right. Okay."

Danny didn't make any moves to get up.

Tucker moved his head so he could catch Danny's eye, "are you still lonely?"

Danny poked his pointer fingers together repeatedly as the lightest blush dusted across his cheeks, "yeah."

"You know," Tucker started with a sly grin creeping across his face, "goths are notoriously lonely people."

Tucker locked eyes with her and the utter betrayal she felt was unmatched. She was so getting him back for this!

Danny's eyes lit up in excitement, and also with ghostly energy, as he floated off Tucker's lap.

She barely had enough time to put her laptop away before he tackled her with his enthusiastic affection.

She mouthed, "I hate you," at Tucker after brushing Danny's hair away from her mouth.

Gosh, his hair was so soft. It was like what you think clouds should feel like. 

Her heart was beating so fast. Or was it his?

God, he was so close.

He was nuzzling into a spot just to the right of her collarbone and below her shoulder.

"Your shirt feels nice." He finally stopped and leaned back to meet her eyes, "Take it off."

"What? No!" She sputtered as she tried very hard not to yeet him across the room.

"Why not?" He pouted clearly missing how not okay that was to say.

"Because I'm wearing it! Just go get something from my closet if you want to wear my clothes so bad!"

He immediately took her up on the offer and scurried off to her closet.

"Wow, it's so big in here! It's like another room in your room."

"That's what a walk-in closet is you dingus!" Tucker shouted playfully.

Danny laughed as the sound of hangers sliding across the rod as he perused her selection carried into her room.

Just as Sam started to relax the very distinct sound of a zipper opening and denim dropping to the floor broke the comfortable silence.

Sam was pretty sure all the blood in her body evaporated.

"You want me to check on him?" Tucker asked already half out the chair.

"Please."

Tucker walked over cautiously, "Hey Danny, you about done in there?"

"Yeah, I'll be right out."

Tucker lingered just outside of the doorway of the closet, "You remember that Sam asked you not to take off your pants right?"

"But I found better ones."

Tucker turned back to her and whispered, "Better ones?"

She just shrugged and waved for him to continue.

"Right, can I come in?" He asked with so much question in his voice it sounded like he didn't actually want to.

"Sure! You can let me know if it's a look or not."

Tucker took a breath, stealing himself for whatever he was about to witness. He took a step forward and crossed the threshold and then another step he was out of view.

It was quiet for a moment before Tucker let out a poorly suppressed snicker. "Well, it's definitely a look."

Sam took her own steadying breath before walking into the closet herself.

Danny was there smiling down at his new outfit, before looking up at her. "So what do you think?"

The first thing she noticed was that he was wearing the DIY’ed crop top of her oversized Dumpty Humpty concert tee, the thick chunky fringe swayed from side to side as he moved.

Her eyes slowly traveled downward and found he was wearing bright baby blue capri leggings that were covered in sickeningly happy large white daisies. And to top it all off the shiny opalescent fabric of a high-waisted pleated skater skirt was the final item of his nightmare outfit.

He was a fashion disaster in the truest form.

She wasn’t sure if she should even bother asking why he chose what he did, there might not be a method to this madness.

Tucker on the other hand, apparently had no qualms in asking any question that popped into his head, “So why the skirt?”

“It reminds me of Jazz.”

“How?”

“We used to play dress up,” he admitted while twisting at the waist to get the skirt to flare around him.

He stopped abruptly and declared, “I want cheesy fries,” before grabbing them each by the hand and walking back into her room and towards the door.

Oh no, they could not go out like this. He could not go out like this! She is very sure he would not like it if anyone saw him dressed like this.

“How about I order them and we can watch a movie here?” She cursed herself internally because if he agreed to that they’d have to go back downstairs and it would make coming up here pointless.

“But Nasty Burger doesn't deliver.” he countered as he swayed his shoulders back and forth which caused both the crop top fringe and the pleats of the skirt to sway to the same hypnotic beat.

“I have my ways.” Those ways were an obscene inheritance. She found a lot of people did a lot of things if you just paid them the right amount.

“Okie Dokie Loki!” he agreed cheerily before skipping through her closed bedroom door.

Right, ghost powers. He still had those.

======================================================

Once she was confident enough that Tucker was keeping Danny distracted, Sam called the Nasty Burger to place their order. She figured she might as well just get something for everyone and make the delivery worth the person’s time.

The phone was answered on the 4th ring, “Hello?”

“Yeah, hi. I know this is going to sound stupid, but could you take a delivery order for me?”

“We don’t do delivery?”

“I know, but can you make an exception? Just this once? I can pay extra!” God, she hated using her wealth this way.

“How much extra are we talking?”

But it was hard to argue with the results. “Name your price.”

After a bit of haggling for haggling’s sake, Sam was able to place her order. Now all she had to do was wait.

The stereo in the basement came on and it was obviously turned up pretty loud, but she couldn’t tell what the song was from her spot by the front door. Her leg bounced with impatience until the doorbell finally rang.

She popped up and sped walked to the door, cash in hand.

She opened it quickly to find Valerie on the other side. Sam sighed realizing that she should have expected that.

That‘s why the voice on the phone sounded so familiar.

“So I have to ask, why can’t you leave your house?”

Before she had time to come up with an excuse, he appeared.

“Valerie!” He cheered before running over and into Sam when he didn’t stop in time. “Are those my cheesy fries?”

Valerie’s expression went from surprise, to confusion, to perplexed amusement. “What are you wearing?”

“It’s my new fit! Do you like it?” he swishes to set the skirt and fringe back into motion. That seemed to be his favorite part of the outfit as far as she could tell.

“It’s definitely a statement.”

“Oh wait! I forgot the best part!” he reached into the pocket of the skirt. Which surprised Sam because she didn’t know that had pockets.

Then he pulled out something that made her even more confused, mostly because she had absolutely no idea where the heck he had even gotten those from.

He slipped on a pair of pale blue shutter shades and slipped them on. “Now it’s complete.”

Valerie stared at him for a good 20 seconds then leaned in almost nose to nose with him. "Are you high right now?"

"That depends," Danny slowly slides the shades down his nose, "Are you the police? Because if yes?" He pushes the glasses back up to sort of hiding his bloodshot eyes, "Nope."

Sam just closed her eyes, “I will pay you an extra two hundred dollars if you never breathe a word of this to anyone.”

“Make it two-fifty. I’ve got rent to pay.”

“Fine!” she pulled out the money and aggressively traded the food for the stupid amount of cash. She hated that she literally just had to pay Valerie hush money.

Danny better appreciate the lengths she was willing to go for him.

[mst3kproject]

Attack from Space

What, you thought I was out of Star Man movies?

In the distant Sapphire Galaxy, the ferocious Superians (I think) have set out to conquer our universe, beginning with the planet Earth.  The High Council of the Emerald Planet doesn't like that, so off goes Star Man to suss out the Superian spies who are sabotaging our space programs.  This story intersects with that Dr. Yamanaka, a rocket scientist who has been kidnapped by the aliens and brainwashed into building them a fleet of super-spaceships.  It's up to Star Man and Yamanaka's two brave children to save the day!

You guys, you're not going to believe this but I think this movie had a fucking budget. I mean, it wasn't a big budget, but there's much more action and plot and much less of children in shorts running around pointing at things!  There's two different miniature space stations and a rocket ship that's better than the one in Radar Men from the Moon. There's a single plot that runs all the way through the movie and what's more, unlike the other Star Man movies it's not immediately obvious where 'part one' ends and 'part two' begins.  When I think about it, it's probably the point where the rocket blasts off from the secret alien base, but that is purely a hindsight thing.  This may be the best put-together film of the whole Star Man quadrilogy!

Don't worry, it still sucks.

Also in hindsight, I realize that the aliens are probably supposed to be the Sapphirians, seeing as they're from the Sapphire Galaxy.  But the actors keep sounding like they're saying Superians, which also works, since they're supposed to be a 'superior' race... and a couple of times I swore I heard Severians... like they're going to be severe with us, which they were when they started blowing up cities.  Now I'm really confused.

Anyway, like the other films in the Star Man series, Attack from Space begins with a narrator giving us the backstory.  In Evil Brain from Outer Space, this served to gloss over the robot assassin killing Ballazar and his minions preserving his brain, which is something I really would have preferred to watch. In Attack from Space, it just tells us that the, um... Silurians?  Are on their way. There's a brief time-killing interlude in which Star Man has to pass on destroying their space station because of the inevitable meteor shower, but then we get on to the idea of alien agents on Earth and the story proper starts up.  So for once, the narrator doesn't outstay his welcome.

Besides the whole actual budget thing, the other way in which Attack from Space surprises is by making a fairly superficial but apparently sincere attempt to be feminist.  This is the first Star Man film in which we've seen women among the aliens. The, er, Cyberians?  Are a mix of stiff Japanese extras and a few very embarrassed white guys whose lip movements suggest they're speaking English but saying something totally different from the lines that have been dubbed overtop.  The women we see appear to do desk work and monitor radio signals, kind of like Uhura on Star Trek, but it seems they can also serve as security guards, since Dr. Yamanaka's teenage daughter manages to pass as a guard just by stealing a, uh, Spherian? Uniform.

Yamanaka's daughter (according to IMDB her name is Kaoru... I think the narrator might have identified her as such but the name is never used again) is actually one of the most skilled and proactive of the human characters.  She's not the one who comes up with the escape plan (her father's assistant, who was given a name but I can't remember it, did that) but she is essential to its execution and to the eventual positive outcome.  In the final fight she makes a noble effort to save herself and actually manages to hold off the attacking, uh... Sumerians?  Long enough for Star Man to get to her. It's not the same as giving her a personality but it is definitely something, especially in a genre that's usually so relentlessly male.

But as with the other films in the series, most of Attack from Space is just a relentless parade of what the fuck.  There are fight scenes set to circus music.  The, um... Submarines?  They have two different uniforms – the 'rocket ship' version is a standard Japanese Alien silver baked potato jumpsuit, while the 'formal' one is just a re-used Nazi uniform, complete with heil Hitler salute!  There's a 'Death Star' but it's just a planet where the rocks are on fire.  There's a bit where they throw a dude over the side of the space station.  Are we meant to think he just floats around in space forever, or does he fall to earth in a fireball like what happened when Mike dropped the Hubble Space Telescope?!

The two space stations are plastic model kit wheels barely better than their counterparts in Rocky Jones, Space Ranger! and don't stand up to anything like the amount of scrutiny the camera subjects them to.  When Star Man tears one apart with his bare hands, it doesn't look remotely like a feat of strength – it just looks like a dude ripping apart a structure made out of wire coat hangers. Outer space is very windy and surprisingly breathable.  If it were just the, uh, Siberians?  Who stand around on the outside of their space stations unaffected, I might buy that, but humans do it too. Either way, it was nice of Star Man to politely shut the airlock door behind him after he busted his way in.

The fight scenes are delightfully silly – badly choreographed, badly executed, and badly shot, and because of it utterly hilarious. There's not a single punch that looks like it lands.  The best bit in the whole movie is when Star Man kicks a guy up the stairs with the power of reversed film (this is the obvious choice for a MST3K stinger)!  On the other hand, there are also some rather surprising bits where Star Man picks up a gun and shoots some aliens, which seems very un-superheroish of him.

The movie's scientist, Dr. Yamanaka, lives in a bunker on an island and wears a lab coat all the time.  This is explained as being because of his work in rocketry, which is top-secret and dangerous and therefore must be kept away from population centres and the employees well-protected... but it's such a mad scientist trope that it's still a bit of a surprise that he's never revealed as working for the, um, Sulfurians?  The whole time.

I don't know if it's worth it to try any sort of actual analysis on the Star Man series as a whole, but I do want to note that out of four movies, three of them involve a threat to the Earth that comes not from humanity, but from an outside force.  The Salamander Men, Ballazar's Brain, and the... um... Sirenians?  Are all alien creatures that want to take over the Earth as the first step to a greater series of conquests.  In Invasion from Space we were told that Earth is 'the richest planet in the galaxy' but this idea doesn't come up in any of the other movies.  So why do all these would-be galaxy-conquerors want to start with little old us?

Well, there's the obvious fact that we wouldn't have a comprehensible movie if they didn't, but let's look for a reason in the universe of the stories.  One might be tempted to speculate that it's because Earth is easy to conquer by the standards of these spaceship-building, atomic-weapon-mastering, sorcerer-summoning aliens, but that may be a premature conclusion.  All these beings seem to have heard of Star Man, after all, and if they've been keeping up with his adventures as we have (which we clearly have, as Star Man is allowed to address the UN at one point) then they must know the Earth is under his protection.  There must be something else that makes the Earth special.  What is it, exactly, that we're rich in?  It can't be minerals, because none of the aliens are ever seen mining.

Considering that both the, uh... Shakespeareans?  And Ballazar's Brain are seen to have Earthling scientists working for them, I would humbly speculate that what Earth is rich in... is humans!  In Atomic Rulers, the human Magolians (or whoever they were) were able to figure out how to blow up the planet all by themselves, which is something none of these aliens ever even tried! Dr. Kurokawa and his brother of Evil Brain from Outer Space were somehow essential to the invasion plan, even though we never really found out what was up with that.  In Attack from Space, the aliens kidnap and brainwash Dr. Yamanaka and his family to build spaceship engines for them.  They never say they couldn't have done that on their own, but they don't seem very interested in trying.

Maybe this is why the Emerald Men (at least I can tell what their name is) think they need to keep sending Star Man to Earth.  Humans are a resource that needs to be nurtured, not conquered, and someday we can help the entire galaxy to advance!  Or is it more sinister than that?  Do humans need to be kept isolated and protected, so that nobody – including us – can use our remarkable brainpower for evil?  We are very good at evil.  With the right tools, we could be an unstoppable force even greater than that of the... Saggitarians?  Even Star Man would be unable to stand in our way!

I dunno about you guys, but that makes me feel pretty special.

[ninnodesu]

The New Matriarch, ch 8

OKAY ITS HERE! From now on, the style of writing is going to change slightly, as you can see. I do hope it's still good though! You see a slight timeskip and Thomas is ANGY >:(

Trigger warnings: - Blood - Busted up nose - Foul language - THOMAS WHO TAUGHT YOU THESE WORDS

I might’ve forgotten to upload it here.... sowwy... 

It’s been about five weeks since Thomas had given you a proper name, a name that the rest of the family seemed to agree with since they shortly after started calling you by it. These weeks have been tough, your nightmares returned several nights, every night has ended up with you on the porch until Charlie had wandered off to whatever it is he’s doing, before Monty heads off to the occasional towing job, and until Luda Mae had gone to her job at the gas station. They’re vivid, sometimes you hear voices calling you a name, but it still seems like your brain wants to block out any clear sign as to what the dreams mean.

Despite this, you can’t ignore that creeping and ever-growing suspicion that the dreams show you where you’ve come from, who you truly are and what your real name actually is.

Even if you’ve had your nightmares, you’ve gotten more comfortable around your new family. Charlie is still an asshole to you from time to time, just last week you ended up in a fight with him, resulting in you scratching his cheek before Thomas had to literally lift you off him. Monty sometimes still acts like you don’t even exist, except when you bring him food. To Luda Mae, you’re a daughter. She loves you, and whether it’s because you’re a woman and she loves having another woman around the house, or if it was because you’re you, you didn’t know. After your first full week, she had even given you new clothes, since you’d been walking around in Thomas’ shirt for a few days. You’re thankful for the fact that you’ve been appointed the family’s new housekeeper because this meant you got to clean. It’s taken you a few days, but finally, the house looked actually livable. Today though, you decided to sit on the porch in an old rickety rocking chair after having hung the laundry out to dry in the still warm evening sun, ice-cold glass of iced tea, and a random book you’d found in the house.

A slight breeze running over your hair now and then.

You were really absorbed in the book and only vaguely noted the heavy shuffling footsteps stomping their way up the driveway, the only notion you gave him before you heard a heavy slam to your side being a “Hey, Tommy.” with a lazy wave in his direction before turning the page you just finished, a slam that made you jolt hard enough to knock the glass off the porch railing and down in the grass. “Thomas?”, you looked after him, another hard slam was heard from inside the house. And your eyes went wide at the realization.

Shit, he’s in a foul mood.

You follow him inside, the door to the basement slightly ajar, you guessed he slammed it hard enough to break something. A chill ran up your back.  During the weeks you’ve lived here, you’ve never seen him this angry before. Sure, you’ve seen him annoyed, with his usual blue eyes turning a darker hue and brows meeting in the middle and his lips turned down in a frown. But pissed off Thomas? Never.

From the basement, you heard a clatter, stomping, things breaking and someone, or this time some thing, was wreaking havoc in the basement. This time, you didn’t see Thomas in your mind's eye, you saw something else. You saw his pure rage, you saw what his muscles could do. And it scared you.  Yet, you continued down the stairs, as quietly as you could. In the dim basement, you saw something fly across the floor and thunk itself in a beam.

He had thrown a vase in a random direction, and a piece of it got stuck in one of the beams. “...Thomas…?”, you ducked quickly as you saw a bucket come flying in your direction and bounced off the wall behind you. “THOMAS!”, you stood as quickly as you ducked to throw daggers at him as his shoulders heaved of heavy breathing. Even though you were scared of the raging behemoth of a giant you saw the silhouette off, you knew he would never hurt or harm you by will.

His emotions were all over the place. He was angry, and sad, and frustrated, and anxious, and worried and just…

What the fuck do they mean with “closing the slaughterhouse”?!, he kicked a small chair that crashed across the wall.

He was pacing over the basement floor. Furious.

They can’t fucking close the plant., a vase broke. Thomas was seeing absolute red.

He’d gotten the news that they were closing down the slaughterhouse at the end of the month. Which meant he was out of a job. Which furthermore meant his family was not going to get money or food. His blood boiled.

They know this town depends on that place!, another vase was hurled across the floor, pieces of it sticking in one of the beams, and he vaguely heard the stairs creak as someone who he could only guess was Kit came down them. He’d gotten the news the same day that the meat plant was closing down, and for the first time in so many years, he went home when everyone else did. At the same time he heard Kit call out for him he threw a bucket towards her location where she stood on the stairs, thankfully, she ducked. “THOMAS!”, that’s when he stopped pacing back and forth and just stared at her. She never used his real name like that, she sounded just like his mama did when he had done something he shouldn’t, or when he didn’t come when she called him the first time. His blue eyes engulfed by rage looked straight into her own. The atmosphere is thick enough to cut with a knife.

I swear to god if you take one step off those stairs.

His breathing was only amplified by his mask, making it sound like he was a raging bull, as his fists clenched hard enough to turn his knuckles white by his side. His stance is wide. He felt and acted like a cornered animal at this point.

“I’m your friend, Tommy.”, you tried to tell him, trying your best to bring him down a couple of notches, raising both your hands to try and show him you mean him no harm. If you want to act like an animal, I’ll approach you like one. , you thought to yourself as you took one careful step towards him. “I’m your family, Tommy.”, you tried with another step. His massive bulk only moving with his breathing, hard, and huffing behind coarse leather. “You can talk to me.”, you said it without thinking when you were close enough to him that you could feel his anger around him. You tried putting your hand on his arm to do your best to convey that you meant no harm, but that combined with the end of your sentence he tensed even more than you thought was possible for this tightly wound wire of a man. And that’s when it happened. He turned.

“TALK”?!, he acted without knowing what he did and turned too violently when he felt Kit’s hand land on his arm, resulting in him accidentally knocking her over the face with his elbow, knocking her back a few footsteps. He turned when he heard her groan and whisper a silent “shit” behind her hands.

That’s when it clicked. No… Kit, I- The look she gave him after reeling back and holding her hands over her nose to prevent even more blood to escape from her now busted nose sent shivers down his back and he was violently thrown back into reality. He just stood there processing what had happened. He had hurt her. He had hurt her badly.

Your nose throbbed with pain, blood gushing down your hands and mouth. He had hit you hard with his elbow out of anger when he was only going to turn away from you. You glared at him, your own anger starting to boil up out of pain.  Deep inside you, you knew he didn’t fully intend on hurting you, it was an accident. But it still stung. Your heart ached at the realization that he had no control over his own body when he reached this level of anger. That not even you were fully safe from him when he got this angry.

You had no words for him, nothing to say. All you did was hide behind your hands, mumble a few curse words and shake your head as you headed up the stairs, leaving him alone in the now trashed up basement.

[planceeverafter]

Zine Contribution: Writer

Why do you love Plance? I love Plance because their interactions are so pure. I adore how they work so well together and all the possibilities their relationship holds. I feel that they can grow old together and be that cute old married couple that constantly banters with each other.

A sample of your work:

Sharp, blinding pain was the only thing his brain was focusing on. The pain encompassed every part of him. He felt as though the cells that made up his very being were bursting.

'Pidge'

Where was she? His brain screamed at him for focusing on more than one thing. He had to get up though, had to power through. Lance mustered all of his strength and slightly pushed himself up. Shaking arms barely held his weight and he collapsed back on the cold ground.

'How did this mission go so wrong?'

During the briefing only hours ago, Allura had informed them of a Galra base that may have some valuable information. Information about Matt. The base seemed to be abandoned and it should have been a relatively easy mission.

The base was indeed absent of Galra, but they left wonderful goodies behind. Bombs were littered all over the base and some were delightfully invisible.

'We must have set one of them off'

Green. His eyes focused on the pop of color that was halfway across the destroyed room.

'Pidge!'

Adrenaline pumped through his veins and he desperately pushed himself up again. Indescribable pain exploded in his body, but Pidge needed help. He somehow got on his feet and took shaking steps towards her. Lance almost fell down a multitude of times, but he finally got to her. He tried to gently drop on the ground, but his body betrayed him. Lance clunked heavily onto the ground and he was sure to see bruises cropping up in the next couple of days.

"Pidge" his throat detested the attempt at talking. Her slim body was crumpled on the ground, but it looked like nothing fell on her so that was a good sign. Lance gently felt for a pulse and his fingers felt the faint rhythm of life.

'She's alive!'

Relief flooded through his body, but he knew they weren't out of the woods yet. She was still unconscious, likely from hitting her head so hard on the ground when the bomb went off. Lance tried to contact the other paladins and the Castle through his helmet com, but alas it was busted.

"Alright Pidge, we are just going to try and get to Blue ourselves." He still felt the presence of Blue through their bond, so at least he had that. Lance delicately put his hands under Pidge and began to slowly pick her up. His pitiful muscles were in so much pain even though Pidge wasn't even that heavy. He finally had her in a stable position in his arms, when he noticed something.

"Dios mio." The words were barely more than a horrified whisper.

Blood. A huge pool of blood. The culprit was a sharp piece of metal debris. Her vunerable body fell on it during the explosion. Its lethal edges went right through her armor like it was butter.

Lance began to panic. Amber eyes began to flutter open.

"Lance..." A feeble cough from her lips.

"Oh Pidge! Stay with me here, we are going get back to the Castle. You are going to get in a pod and get all healed up and-"

"You're rambling like me now." A soft, dry laugh escaped from Pidge's chapped lips.

Lance could tell she was in a horrible amount of pain. Tears were flowing freely, her eyebrows were scrunched together, and she was taking short, labored breaths.

"I guess you're right." Lance tried to respond with some lightness in his voice. He wanted to make this situation as painless as possible. She didn't deserve any more pain.

"Here's the game plan Pidgeon, we are going to try and make our way out of this place and into Blue."

Pidge winced as he started moving. "That's a very simple plan."

"How do you still manage to be snarky when your body is in this condition?"

"Exsanguination."

Lance could feel Blue's presence grow stronger. "Excuse me?"

"Exsanguination. The process of a person's blood draining out of their body. My blood is draining out of my body at this present moment-"

"Yeah, yeah I got it!" Lance snapped, but with no heat in his voice. He knew he should have tried to do something to the wound to stop the bleeding from the beginning, but what would he put on it? He supposed his hand would do. He readjusted Pidge and put a good amount of pressure on the wound.

She whimpered at the pressure, but didn't protest. The whole rest of the trip she didn't say anything more. Lance guessed that her body couldn't handle the simple action of talking anymore.

When they finally reached Blue, Lance's worried heart began to beat faster. They were almost there, almost to the help Pidge desperately needed. Blue's forcefield came down and let the teens in.

The blue light washed over him with comforting familiarity. He tenderly put her down in his seat and went to get the first aid kit. When he got back Pidge was thankfully still awake. Lance did the best he could with what he had and set a auto-piloted course for the Castle. Using Blue's communication, he sent a message to the Castle about their situation and to get a healing pod ready.

"See, I told you we were going to be fine." Lance knelt down to Pidge and gave her forehead a soft kiss. Her ghastly pale face gained a light pink hue from the action. Pidge has had feelings for him since the Garrison.

Lance decided that right now wasn't the best time to confess his feelings for her. Even if he did, she might not even remember it from the state she was in. When she was all healed up he would tell her. When her amber eyes had that fiery spark to them again.

Lance placed his hand on her head and started to carefully rake his fingers through her knotted hair.

They were going to be okay.

Tumblr | AO3

[loudlypanickinginvenezolano]

Animalistic, pt 2, but I tried editing it.

Something is really wrong, and Shadow is awfully aware of that...He just... cant say what... Besides Sonic. Something is crearly wrong with that hedgehog.

Mention of a snake, animals, dead animals, and injuries, I guess. I tried editing this chapter, but I am not sure wherever it is better or not. I still like it, tho...

It took him maybe 8 seconds of confused blinking to remember why was an overgrown python chilling on his bed, but once everything loaded and pierced itself together on his mind, Shadow finally managed to find on himself the will to get out of his cozy blankets and stand, carefully picking up his moody companion, and leave him into his tank, no matter how pissed off Kaa may look. “I am, Oh so sorry for disturbing your sleep, your majesty, but that is a no-no place for you to be and you know it.” He snorted, before blinking, because, wow, he really must be tired.

Barely awake enough to remember that yes, he needed to wear some kind of paw-wear that wasn’t just socks, he jogged down the steps, groggily searching around the house the reason he had arisen from his warm, and delicious, and maaaaybee self-indulging dream, but what the hell, it was all on his head, wasn’t it? And unless it was the dream police he fucking wasn’t feeling sorry for his fantasies.

Anyway.

He was sure he had heard something…

“Well, hello there, little mister.” He cooed, picking up Baloo from where the baby bear had wandered, chucking lowly at the dispirited face of the now busted cub. Scrooge was close to the door, looking warily and keeping guard as Mowgly was being his dumb self in the middle of the living room, roaming around and pawing at everything that gained his attention, not a bit undeterred by Shadow appearance. If Something, it seemed like he was even more energetic than before, happily running to him and trying to play with the large ears and little horns of his slippers.

While Mowgly and Baloo had warmed incredibly quickly to Shadow and the secure room he had made for them during this first 2 days, Scrooge was reserved, to not be insulting, and didn’t like so much wherever Shadow came closer, pawing away his hands, sneezing or growling until she decided she wanted food. She was….a moody motherfucker, there really wasn’t a round way about it.

That was why he was certain that Ebeneeza Scrooge was a perfect name.

Though ¨¨Scary little bitch¨¨ wasn’t so far off the mark, either. It was just too long, and Scalibi was taken.

She was the real reason he feared to be stabbed during his sleep...

So far, everything normal, Right?

A calm, fresh night, or as calm as they get when you are Shadow the hedgehog and you are taking care of the very thing you may or may not have a phobia for.

Now, Can somebody explain him what the fuck happened to that “normal” he just had? Because shit, he couldn’t find it anymore and he wanted it back. For yesterday.

It all started when not so long after he ushered the bears back to where they were sleeping, his back door started being scratched on, which wasn’t such a normal occurrence and really, Shadow should have realized since that moment that something was off.

He wasn’t sure what kind of otherworldly being possessed him in that instant, but je made the mistake of opening the door without checking properly, and really, what was he? A rookie or something?

What was he thinking?!

Immediately, 12 raccoons ran in, closely followed by what he was certain were at least 18 bunnies. And then, while he had been busy gaping like a dumbass, 9 giggling foxes squeezed past, as well as-- where those squirrels?

Yes, that definitely were 23 or something squirrels.

And a rat.

A big, fat as shit, and really ugly looking greyish-black rat.

Oh sir, what disgusting creation was that?

He closed the door and put the lock on it, leaning heavily on its surfaces and racking his brain while trying to decide wherever he had ingested something strange or not during the day, but nothing came. He could not find any coherent reason about why had these animals decided to invade his house like this.

Well…

They had come searching for refuge in the past, that was true, but it was because of storms or something of the like….

Oh. Maybe it was what all of this was about? But, he hadn’t heard any thunder, and there was no rain, nor wind picking up.

Come to think about it, it hadn’t rained in like 6 days.

He didn’t… he didn’t have time to this.

Just as he was doing his best at calming down what looked like a hurt raccoon having a panic attack, if that even makes sense, and was actually and surprisingly succeeding in doing so, all hell broke loose when the window of his living room broke in a splash of glass accompanied by a very manly screech, and 7 scared deer’s jumped into the house, cuts and stuck glass pieces making their blood come say hi. The rabbits went crazy, and the foxes started screeching and doing that weird pat-pat thing dogs do while happy, just that the foxes weren’t happy, and neither was Shadow.

He was sure the raccoon he was holding died of a heart attack for 4 agonizing seconds.

<<Same, buddy. >>

This was… this was bad.

Like really, really bad.

And of course, it just got worse when wolves jumped in, and the growling, or screaming in that fox’s case, started once again.

Was that fox… peeing in his floor!? OH SHIT IT WAS! IT PEED ALL OVER HIS BLACK STELLAR RUG!

It wasn’t even 8 pm, what the actual fucking shit?!

Shadow felt like screaming. He actually was going to scream like a bitch or a scared child he didn’t care anymore. He was done, oh shit.

Shadow breathed deeply, resisted the urge of biting his forearm or screeching like a banshee into his coffin like cushion, and exhaled, trying not to scare any of the already panicking animals around him, and to not succumb to his own panic in the middle of this disaster. He breathed once again.

He was better than this.

This…this was nothing compared to some of the things he had been through in the past.

This was fine. He totally wasn’t hyperventilating over such a thing.

Right. Cool head. Everything was going to be alright for as long as he didn’t succumb to his panic. It was easy. Totally.

Mh-hm…

Once he made sure the raccoon was actually breathing, he left it clung to his back as he made his way to his window, carefully stepping between the glass, rodents, and paws, as he had noticed that the smell of blood was thicker in that part after sniffing around.

Shadow wasn’t that surprised to see two heavily injured wolves in his front porch, panting as 3 young deers warily made their way over.

This was… going to be a long night of no sleep, right?

Thank god he didn’t need to go to the G.U.N. headquarters or the FF central for the whole week. Were he to see their faces tomorrow, at least someone was bound to get a fucking punch in the mouth.

He was betting Silver.

Maybe Amy.

A while later, when he finished with the first wolf, he looked up to find Gumdrop looking back at him. Other 14 ravens and like 8 Macaws and who-has-the-time-to-count other birds he didn’t knew the name of were trying to sleep in the couch support, and there were frogs hiding under his chairs and couch, a few even jumping up to his small coffee table.

6 wild cats and their 9 cubs where chilling by the door, and it seemed the wolves, deer’s, and Foxes came to an understanding and were keeping to themselves, not moving an inch into the others space, and thanks heaven, having no discussions over territory, as he wasn’t sure about how would thing end if his unexpected visitors decided to break a brawl into his house in such a time.

Shadow wondered if he could offer the rat or whatever that thingwas to the wolves as a reward for not peeing, unlike others he was glaring to. He decided they were his favorites and it had totally nothing to do with how one of them decided that lying next to him was a wonderful idea… as well as licking his thigh with abandon [which on second though may be a way to express their anxiety and shouldn’t be so cute.]

Nothing to do with that overgrown puppy he was dying to pet. Not at all.

He wasn’t so stupid as to try and touch an actual wild wolf he had never come in contact before.

Convincing the deer´s to let him heal their injuries was tricky, nervous, scared, and certainly put off by Shadow himself and his med kit as they were, but he managed after a long while of murmuring softly, yummy treats, and petting. He noticed that some of the cuts were made by claws, thick, strange claws he remembered still, and not only by glass, as he had though initially.

It was a big “oh.” Moment. He…he really hadn’t thought about that. But, why would he, right? Shadow had been so sure that it was just a one-time incidence, an isolated occurrence, something that came across the place, and maybe left after, once everything was done. It had happened before…

The proof of how careless he had been, how innocent, if you may, how wrongin his believe was laying right in front him, like an accusing hand directly thrown in his face.

He had to manually re-start the heart of 4 cubs, two raccoons, 3 wolves, and 6 rabbits that night.

He found 5 quills into the fur of the animals that night.

They matched the one on his bedside table completely, no doubt they were from the same animal or the same kind, at least.

Shit.

Shit shit shit, shit.

He wanted to punch something so bad on his frustration. How had he been so naïve? How? He had fucked up big time, there wasn’t space for a doubt now. What was he going to do? How could he make up for this disgrace?

Shit.

Should he hunt?

Shadow… He really didn’t sleep that night, even though he knew he needed to. Attending wound after wound, getting bitten, scratched, throw off his paws, and even being thrown up on became a routine somewhere down the line, the fact that he was running out of pots to put clean water on, bandages and other necessities never out of his mind as more and more scared animals came to his door.

What was out there?

How could he sleep in a moment like that?

Had the animal’s sounds or injuries left him, the bone chilling howling he heard at 1 AM, and then later at 4 AM really gave no option. He would have woken up anyway, startled and panicking as much as the animals around him, and it would just have been a more difficult scenario to handle.

Even the wolves shuddered and searched for comfort, scared and intimidated by what they heard and saw, most likely.

It was better this way. Even if he felt a bit sluggish and rather tired, he could hold. He was trained for this, wasn’t he?

He just…wondered why he felt so affect about this. Almost… sick.

Once the time came, he went out to run like every day, undeterred, stepping into the thick foliage like usual. The sunlight barely made it to the ground, so everything was gloomy and humid still, not really reliable to walk around unless you knew the territory.

He found 4 strange dips into the earth, like the one he previously slipped on, and 1 wolf and 3 deer’s corpses.

One was destroyed, as if attacked in a fit of rage, and 2 of the deers were nothing but bones by now, munched on by this new creature he had not seen yet, and others scavengers of the zone. It had been clearly full by then, or at least coming closer to it, as the remaining one still had a lot on…Well.

Maybe saying “a lot” was being too generous. But there was some fur still attached. Fur he could use… maybe?

Ugh.

Shadow couldn’t help but compare his own bite to it.

The difference was jarring and unpleasant to find. His lethal fangs were small in comparison, and his claws were but a joke.

He knew it could also mean nothing. Even if the creature was big, Shadow could still take it on, and win.

It was okay.

He breathed out slowly.

Shadow went back home early that day, cutting his trip short, trying to stop feeling as if something was staring at him from the top of the trees, following his steps in such a quiet manner he couldn’t place from where he was being followed exactly.

Mocking, maybe, but intense.

He fed the bears, and did his best to help the animals inside eat something and lure them out.

A few looked scared, still. Wary. And Shadow, with a sinking emotion in his stomach, found he couldn’t blame them.

He wondered why he hadn’t stopped feeling sick.

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

1 2

2

Let into the stranger’s apartment, Levi didn’t know whether to be impressed or not by its sheer emptiness. The man really seemed to only give two fucks about having a roof over his head, everything else was goddamn bleak once the apartment lights came on

“Sit on the sofa, I’ll get the first aid kit”

Right. The kid in front of him was too old to hold any youthful charms. There were no “welcome to my humble abodes”, but there was also no “don’t fucking bleed to death on my sofa”, leading him to wonder how many damn strays the man dragged home with no thought of his own safety. His host didn’t even close the door behind them, disappearing off through a door as Levi was left to limp him way into the living area, eyes drawn to massive fucking bong sitting on the table. Great. His “goddamn saviour” was a pot smoking hippy determined to do his good deed for the day.

Everything seemed to hurt as Levi sank onto the sofa. Pulling out his wallet and phone, he chucked them lightly on the table, before freeing himself of his jacket, and kicking back to examine the apartment closer. Other than the bong, the place wasn’t as terrible as it could be. The paint work seemed passable, the furniture served its purpose. Heck, the man had a small bookcase of what seemed to be well read classics, two photo frames sitting on the top shelf, summing up the total everything personal inside the space.

“Scotch, bourbon, or beer?”

Levi jumped, alpha growling lightly at the fact he’d let himself get distracted

“Got any water?”

Clanging from kitchenette connected to the living area, the way the man slammed his cabinet grated on Levi’s nerves. The typical alpha punk snorting, before replying

“You’re gonna want something harder when I’m stitching that hand of yours up”

“Tea?”

“That’s a new one. I’ve got coffee”

If Levi had wanted coffee, he would have asked for coffee. Nothing tonight was going fucking right

“Double shot scotch”

“I suppose you want ice”

Levi shrugged. It all pretty much tasted like warm piss, iced or otherwise

“Oh, man, sure... If you’re offering”

Chuckling at him, the stranger had an alright laugh. For a man he didn’t give two shits about, he wasn’t completely fucking awful

“Careful, there. You’re verging on being polite”

“I’m always polite”

“Says the one calling me a “lanky shit””

Being five-foot-fucking-three was shameful for an alpha. All his damn life people treated him like a fucking runt, not that Levi had an issue with it. He just wasn’t as tall as the strange brown haired man who’s sofa he was now bleeding onto, and apparently needed to care about this right now

“You fucking are”

Bring over the first aid kit and his scotch, the man quirked an eyebrow at him. Levi nearly blinking in shock. Never in his life had he set eyes on a set of eyes so damn green... Scruffy around the edges, the man had shed his leather jacket in favour of a black hoodie, brown hair pull back into a messy bun, not missing a beat as he quirked a smile at him

“And you’re a grumpy old man, aren’t you?”

Yeah. And the man who probably an escaped lunatic that’d murdered his mother and eloped with his sister, knowing Levi’s luck

“Fuck off”

“You know what they say, “6 out of 7 dwarves aren’t happy”. Give me your hand, I’ll take a look”

Holding his hand out Mister Lanky-fuck, as Levi had now decided to call him, sat on the edge of his coffee table. Even with the sofa a few inches taller with the cushion, Lanky-fuck had the never to be taller than him. One look at the man’s grease stained hands had the alpha wrinkling his nose

“Leave the kit, I’ll handle it. I don’t know what I’m likely to catch from those hands of yours”

“Don’t be such a baby. They have these magical things called gloves and sanitizer, my father would murder me if he ever thought I was patching someone up without gloves on. Are you always so damn uncooperative?”

What the fuck? The man in front of him seemed ready to fucking pout. He might have only just seen his face a few moments ago, but now Levi was stuck between the awkwardness of not knowing how young the kid was, or how old the man was... Normally he considered himself quite well versed in the subtle act of people watching. It kind of came in handy sizing up the man who wanted to beat you arse before a fight. Snarkily he shot back

“I don’t know, do you bring home every alpha you meet?”

The stranger shrugged

“I don’t know. Never brought anyone here before so I guess that’s a no. Now, let me fix you up then I can go the fuck to bed with it your death on my hands”

Snorting, and despite the sheer randomness of the situation, Levi wasn’t sure he would mind being murdered by the man in front of him. He seemed easily as cranky as he was, and he’d been looking for something to break the daily grind. Catching his tongue, the alpha blinked in self induced shock, realising he’d very nearly asked if going to bed involved going to bed to fuck. None of this was like him. He never wanted... he was on suppressants. The dumb blonde beta who’d busted his lip must have shaken his brain loose, either that or the late nights were finally catching up with him

“Wash your hands then put the gloves on”

“God. I’ve got you. You’re not the first person I’ve patched up. I would tell you to wash your hand off first but that would hurt like a bitch”

“This dump has an actual shower?”

“With soap and all”

Letting out a low whistle, Levi fooled no one with his tiny bit of actual surprise that somewhere so crappy would have working facilities. If anything the only “foolish” thing would be how much of a fool he was making of himself right now

“I don’t believe it, maybe you’ll have to show me”

Fuck. Fucking. Fuck. Abort. What he meant to say was “If you don’t mind, I’d actually prefer to wash my hands and face”. Not that... Confusion clouded the strangers features, followed by a heavy frown in his direction. Heck. Now the brat looked old enough to be pushing 30. Being “baby faced” had to have its damn limits

“Listen. You can shower if you want. You can eat my food. Hell, you can put your clothes through the washing machine and dryer. I didn’t bring you home for a fuck, and if you think I did, you’ve got it all wrong. I brought you home because you dying on our fucking back step would probably cost me a job I can’t afford to lose”

This was going terribly. Would things go better if he tried to introduce himself? He had no intention of running into this kid again, so what was the point giving him his name?

“Calm your shit. It was a joke. Just fix my hand and I’ll take it from there, Mister Lanky-fuck”

Sighing at him, Mister Lanky-fuck appeared done with him

“That’s a new one. It’s Kruger. My name... Do you really have to keep scowling at me?”

What kind of a name was “Kruger”? Was it a first name? Or a last name? Or a nickname? Nope. He didn’t care. None of this mattered anyway

“I’m not scowling”

He couldn’t help it. Time and time again he’d been told he’d look less murderous should he open his eyes just that little bit wider. He didn’t know what people expect from that shit. His face was pretty much set the same way it’d always been... something referred to as “resting bitch face”, if his idiot friend was to be believed. Having been forced to think about it left a scowl on his face. Kruger snatching up his hand before Levi could grimace at the amount of germs

“Right. Sit there and drink your scotch. I’ll have this done as soon as possible”

*

Neither man had any idea of how fateful this first meeting would be, least of all Eren who wasn’t sure he’d done an actual good dead. He hadn’t learned the strange short alpha’s name, only that he took stitches like he’d had them a hundred times before. Patching the bastard back up, Eren forced himself to remember that politeness did exist, though there did seem to be some kind of polite mutual annoyance at the world between them that he didn’t think he was imagining. Whatever. He’d shown the man around his apartment, told him to use whatever was there... then crashed so hard he really could have been murdered in his sleep.

Come the following afternoon, Eren had woken to find the stranger gone and for some unfathomable reason his washing done, ironed, and neatly left on his coffee table. Hell, he might have just taken him to bed had he known he’d get free housework out of it. Whatever the fuck last night was, that was the last time. The stranger was gone, and with the beating he’d gotten the night before, it was severely unlikely he’d ever see him at the garage again. God. His sister was going to kill him for this... good thing she was never going to find out about him acting on a stupid whim.

[inkribbon796]

Jackieboy Man Origins: Chain Letter

Another Origin story, I did one for Silver a while back and I wanted to do one for Jackie.

Summary: For an Irish web developer, it’s been a long night. A long night that turns into a strange morning when he wakes up in the hospital and no memory of how he got there.

~::~ 25 Years Ago ~::~

   As a young man was dragging himself and his friend back from a haunted, twisted mansion in a half-dead hypnotic stupor, an Irishman was sitting at his computer in the dark early morning. Unseen to him, something in the wires of his computer were waiting, watching him for the slightest mental distraction, a fatigue to help it.

   For the man at the computer, it was late. Later than Sean usually liked to be up. Especially in the cabin he lived in with its thin walls and out in the middle of absolutely nowhere, Ireland.

   At the moment he was getting a call from his old friend, Chase. Both of them worked as coders and web designers for the same company.

   “Look, it’s not that I don’t believe ye,” Sean told him. “It’s just that yer full of shite.”

   “Hey, I did what I could, an’ it’s not workin’,” Chase answered, contacting him over the phone.

   Sean audibly groaned,  “Fine, send it. If it’s because yer wife downloaded another virus again, I will personally come over to Brighton and kill ye and yer computer.”

   “If yer gonna buy me a new computer, then bring it,” Chase dared.

   Sean groaned, “I’ll tell you when I’m done with it. Prolly gonna be done later in the week. I’m tired as shit.”

   With a goodbye and a couple barbed insults, Sean hung up. He was about to shut down his computer and go to bed. Closing up programs until the email from Chase came in.

   “Come on,” the Irish man groaned, and against his better judgement opened up Chase’s email and started reading through some of Chase’s notes.

   Two paragraphs in though his eyes started to get itchy, and his throat began to feel dry.

   “I’m tired,” Sean muttered, not meaning to say it out loud.

   “I’m tired.”

   Sean looked around, trying to find the voice.

   “Tired”

   The Irishman was looking around for his glasses, his eyes tired and having problems focusing. It made it look like the whole monitor was going fuzzy with static.

   “Tried”

   “Ugh,” Sean groaned, scratching at his own throat. “Arrrghhh!”

   “Aren’t you just sooooooo tired?”

   Sean stared at the screen, hazy with static and it seemed to be reflecting his smiling face back at him.

   “Ch—” Sean scrambled for the phone. Something was wrong, as if thousands of strings were being tethered to every muscle in his body. “Chase—”

   The Irishman’s head hit his desk and then . . . like a stiff marionette puppet being suspended by strings . . . he got back up again.

   The next thing Sean became aware of was lying down on a slightly cold surface, with a beeping noise echoing off the walls.

   “Ugh,” Sean coughed out, more and more of his body aching by the second. “Am I dead?”

   “No, but you’ll wish you were when the guards get back in here.”

   Sean startled and saw another of his friends sitting in the chair next to him was one of his friends, and his roommate, Marvin. “Marv, the fook happened to your face.”

   Scored down Marvin’s face were long claw marks, stitched to hold the wound closed. Marvin glared at him, looking like he was about to punch him in the face.

   “Yah get inta a fight with a cat or somethin’,” Sean tried to joke.

   Marvin leaned over him, glaring murderously at the other Irishman, pointing to his own face. “You did this to me?”

   “What?” Sean tried to sit up, but found out that he had both hands closely handcuffed to his hospital bed.

   “Yah scratched up my like a fookin’ demon cat,” Marvin spat at him. “Ye almost tore yer own throat out, an’ then ye tried to take my eyes out.”

   “I didn’t,” Sean tried to defend, but a sinking pit formed in his stomach. As if his body knew what he’d been up to last night, but for the life of him he couldn’t remember a single thing that had happened. The web designer was pretty sure he’d fallen asleep at his desk while working. “I wouldn’t—”

   Suddenly, Sean felt like a lump was forming in his throat, and it itched. The urge to reach up and scratch the skin of his throat was eating at him. His brain spiraled into a panic attack, and it felt like his body was physically spinning out of control.

   It took Marvin, two nurses, and a doctor to calm Sean down again. Now with Sean knocked out, Marvin was left to think. He’d known Sean for a long time, and the last thing he expected the other man to be, was violent. Marvin was pretty sure Sean didn’t actually have a violent bone in his body. He could get loud and belligerent, but never violent.

   But thing Marvin had stumbled upon while entering the cabin, that wasn’t Sean. It had taken everything Marvin had to convince everyone that Sean wouldn’t have purposefully tried to burn the cabin down, or attacked Marvin or the officers. Which got harder when his blood work came back clean as a whistle.

   But everyone was letting Sean rest. Sean was still sleeping while Marvin had to think. Yeah, he’d talked Sean out of getting thrown in a cell for arson and attempted murder. But that wouldn’t stop it from happening again.

   Desperate for anything to help, Marvin ran out to a store he typically got his candles and magic supplies.

   “Hey, Marv,” the girl behind the counter smiled at him, using his stage name since he could count on one hand the people he told his actual name to.

   “Hey, Clara, ye still got those weird doll parts?” Marvin was already running towards the back of the shop.

   She just stared at him, “Yeah, why? You inta puppets now or somethin?”

   Then she got a good look at the scratches on his face, “What the hell, man, what happened ta yer face?”

   “If I told you you’d stop me,” he told her, and handed her the money to walk out with his kit.

   “Be careful,” she warned him.

   “Will do,” he promised, and then rushed back to the hospital, smuggling in his kit back into Sean’s room.

   “Okay,” he took a steadying breath, over Sean’s still unconscious body. “This is such a bad idea, but yah can thank me after it works.”

   Then Marvin began working, trying to make the doll look as close to what he saw in the cabin. The dark, glowing green eyes, the slit throat, the wraith-like form. Once he was done with the life-sized model, he waited for the nurses to make their rounds and check on Sean. Marvin smiling, having the doll hidden from them in the bathroom. Cause a life-sized model of a guy was a sure fire way to get him supervised in the room at least.

   Then Marvin waited for them to leave before setting up the room for his Plan A: exorcise his friend and roommate. If he needed a Plan B, Marvin would burn that bridge when he crossed it.

   “Hey, Jackaboy,” Marvin tried to smile. “You awake?”

   No answer.

   Marvin frowned, then he took out a spellbook, “Good.”

   He uttered a quick summoning spell, standing outside the containment spell he’d drawn on the floor. Sean began to convulse and scream, his skin literally buzzing.

   Sean’s screams were so loud, the door flew open as a passing nurse came in, “What the fook?”

   Then a force of pure static electricity shot out of Sean, as a creature that looked almost exactly like the Irishman still passed out on the hospital bed, except for the gash on his throat. The being of malic and chaos just floated in the air above Sean’s bed.

   “Well, well, looks like I found myself a street magician too big fer his own britches,” the creature cackled. The nurse was still at the door, staring at the creature in horror. It smiled back at her.

   “Hey, you almost got my friend arrested,” Marvin tried not to show any fear.

   “Still got time fer that,” it dismissed.

   “Here’s the deal, ye go into this image I made, and I don’t destroy you,” Marvin threatened.

   The doppelgänger just cackled, sounding like Sean just with a crackling, static-like tone to it. “An what? Let yah rip me apart, I don’t think so Two-Bit Copperfield.”

   “Yer going to do it, or I’ll make yah,” Marvin threatened.

   It just laughed again, the very air charging with static electricity, and the creature lightly touched down on the floor, looking at the symbols and lines that were keeping him in. “Yah pay for those magic tricks?”

   “None of your business,” Marvin finally started actually getting brave.

   It took one of its feet and stubbed out one of the lines, blowing back the power onto Marvin, who flew into the wall.

   “Cause, ye got yerself ripped off,” it cackled and moved closer to stand over Marvin’s pain wracked body, the magician slumped against the wall as muscles in his body shook and trembled with electricity.

   “When you want ta learn some real tricks, call me,” the thing took its claws and scored a name into Marvin’s arm: ANTI. Marvin screamed in pain and watched the cop that had been taking questions early bust in.

   Anti looked back at him, standing up and walking back over to Sean’s bed. Marvin heard Sean make a confused groan. “Well, this place has gotten a bit stale. I’ll be seeing you around Copperfield.”

   Marvin tried to pull himself back up, his arm burning. “Wait,” he growled.

   “Hey, get away from them,” the officer barked, rushing for Anti.

   “No, I don’t think so,” Anti grinned, his head almost glitching. “So, buddy, yah got a gun or a TASER? Cause I’m itching to have some fun.”

   There was a loud grunt, and everyone, even Anti, looked over to see Jack struggling weekly against the cuffs tethering him to the hospital bed.

   In the distraction, the officer grabbed onto Anti, trying to wrestle him onto the ground, and got jolted with visible electricity for his troubles. The officer dropped and convulsed on the ground, screaming in pain. The nurse closest to the door rushed to him.

   “Aww, what’s wrong?” Anti smiled at Sean as he walked over to him.

   “No,” Marvin panicked, trying to weakly scramble with his good arm for anything to make Anti go away.

   “I’ll be with you in a second, Copperfield,” Anti summoned a dagger from almost a violent tear in reality itself and threw it. It perfectly nailed Marvin’s other shoulder. Effectively disabling him. Marvin screamed.

   Another dagger got the mannequin Marvin had made, electricity catching it on fire. “And there we go,” Anti’s smile got wider, “get rid of that eyesore.”

   With another step, Anti was leaning over Sean, barely out of reach as Sean. “Hello, well, it has been fun, but I’m tired of you. So, let’s have a little fun with you and your friends before I go.”

   “Get away from them,” Sean threatened.

   “Oh? Puny little human,” Anti cackled, grabbing the Irishman still cuffed to the hospital bed and started to jolt him. As the glitch demon shocked and coursed electricity through him, his whole body glitched the very air around him. “What ye gonna do about it?”

   Sean screamed and sudden his whole body seemed to move, as if every part of his body was just vibrating and shaking, rattled by the electricity.

   Three things happened almost at the same time, and to Marvin’s perspective they did. Time seemed to slow down as Anti reached for his throat. Sean gave a final tug and the cuffs came free. As quick as he could, Sean hit Anti in the face, what felt like electricity coming off his entire arm, but he didn’t see anything.

   The glitch demon recoiled back, mostly in shock, holding the side of his face and just staring at the Irishman who was struggling to get out of the hospital bed and to get in front of Marvin. Adrenaline was coursing through his body, keeping him upright.

   “Yer goin’ ta regret that,” Anti warned.

   “Get away from him,” Sean told him. “Yer not gonna hurt him again.”

   Anti cackled, his body glitching, “What are yeh goin’ ta do? Bleed on me?”

   Sean took a nervous step back, almost stepping on Marvin’s leg, Marvin was able to pick himself up enough to lean against Sean’s legs, placing a hand on the back of his leg, and starting to draw something, his hand shaking as he screamed out in pain.

   “When I kill you, I’ll enjoy it,” Anti promised.

   “If I hit yah once, I can hit ye again,” Sean threatened, just hoping that his body wasn’t nearly as hurt as he thought it was. The police officer seemed to finally be getting up, coughing and holding his arm. Sean hoped it might help get Anti under control, even if he didn’t think whatever Anti was could even be arrested.

   Anti just walked over, “I will enjoy tearing you apart.”

   Sean winded back for another punch, but when he tried to hit Anti, the glitch just stepped to the side. Giving Sean an amused, chortle.

   “Little fly,” Anti chuckled, the glitch demon’s eyes glowing, the iris of his mostly black eyes green. “Somethin’s never change.”

   Then, Anti scratched Sean across the chest, making him stumble back as Anti floated above him and gave him a smug look. Sean already felt drained, a mix of the painkillers, his throat, and the fact that he’s been mentally out of it for hours. But his body also felt absolutely wired with adrenaline.

   He lifted his arms but Anti froze, jolted by something. His eyes almost crackling with static. “You!” he snarled at Marvin. “What’d yah do ta me?”

   Marvin let out a chuckle. “Plan B, thanks fer jumping outta my friend.”

   With a harsh scream, Anti began to glitch and distort, screaming as he was trying to reach out for Jackie but burst into static and seeming disappeared.

   “Is he dead?” Sean gasped.

   “Prolly not,” Marvin coughed. “Should leave us alone fer a while, though,” Marvin slumped over onto the ground. Sean just sat down as two nurses raised over to them.

   “Well kid, yah off the hook,” the officer said. “I don’t think the boys are gunna take ghosts as an excuse. Sorry I couldn’ta been ‘a useful back there.”

   “No prob,” Sean told him. “I’m tired, can I got ta bed?”

   “Try to stay with me a bit longer,” the nurse told him, checking his eyes and all the deep scratches on him. The nurse that had been treating the police officer was now treating Marvin, calling on the radio for back up. Sean’s tied mind losing the voice in all the medical jargon.

   “What’dya do back there?” The officer asked. “I lost sight of yah and suddenly yah were in front’a yer friend.”

   “I just hit him, think it surprised him,” Sean admitted. “Marv’s got a spellbook or whatever the hell he calls it.”

   Looking over, Sean saw the cheap journal Marvin used to store and record his “notes” lying all the way across the room. “Give me a sec,” Sean said. “Maybe Marve took some notes on the bastard.”

   “Wait, you shouldn’t,” the nurse began but Sean was already up.

   He took a couple steps and faster than his brain could process it, Sean had slammed into the opposite wall, knocking him flat on his back. At the sudden loss of air in his lungs, Sean began coughing, trying to roll over but found that the adrenaline in his body was already starting to drain out. “Ugh,” Sean groaned in pain.

   The room went dead silent.

   Then, the nurse swore. “Did you just?”

   “Ugh, everything hurts,” Sean complained, and then passed out.

   Next thing Sean process was that he was in a new room, about three doctors in the room and sensors monitoring his pain. But at least, he had enough painkiller not to feel how absolutely destroyed his body probably was.

   “Hey, jackaboy,” Marvin greeted, he was sitting next to him, his shoulder and arms bandaged up. “So, quick question, yah have any secret identities I should know about?”

   “No, why?” Sean asked, already feeling pretty loopy.

   “Good, cause I’m pretty sure some suits have been in here, and they walked away with a lot of yer blood,” Marvin told him. “Mine too.”

   “Pretty sure, they can’t do that,” Sean reminded.

   “Well they just did,” Marvin told him, “I tried to fight them, but they were about to arrest me if I didn’t comply.”

   “Fer what? Doin’ magic without a license?” Sean tried to joke.

   “No, cause you went 0 to 15 with just yer feet, before colliding with a wall and took a chunk outta the plaster,” Marvin told him.

   “Huh, yah’d think I’d remember that,” Sean thought out loud. “But hey, if I did, I can maybe become a superhero or somthin’. Wouldn’t that be funny?”

   “He awake?” a woman’s voice got Sean’s attention.

   “An’ drugged ta hell,” Marvin warned.

   “Then this won’t take long,” she said and walked over to where Sean could actually see her.

   “Hey,” Sean smiled.

   “You’re Sean McLoughlin, from Althone, Ireland?” she looked at him, studying him up and down.

   “Yeah?” Sean answered. “Who’s askin’? Is this about the wall I broke?”

   “We’re more concerned with how the wall broke, than who broke it,” she corrected.

   “Shit,” Sean shrugged, immediately regretting it because of how sore he still was, even with the painkillers. “Ow. Why did I do that?”

   “Are you still hurt?” she asked.

   “Nah, it’s just sore,” Sean correct. “What were we talking about?”

   The woman didn’t seem to even be frustrated. “Do you know what happened, Mr. McLoughlin?”

   “Nah,” Sean dismissed. “I think there was some glitchy reject video game character, an’ now everythin’ should hurt, but doesn’t cause’a these awesome drugs.”

   She looked at Marvin, but Marvin shrugged, “Hey, guy’s as high as a kite, what do ye want from me?”

   “Mr. McLoughlin, my name is Agent Laine,” she told him.

   “Kay,” Sean smiled.

   “We’ll let you get back to sleep,” Sara told him. “I’ll be back.”

   “Hopefully with an actually reason to take our blood,” Marvin reminded.

   “Only if we find anything out of the ordinary,” she said and left.

   “Finally,” Marvin growled.

   “She doesn’t seem nice,” Sean commented.

   “Alright, you might not remember this, but last night you moved fast, like superhuman fast, and I did actual magic. It was amazing.” Marvin smiled. “Unfortunately the suits figured out.”

   Sean just laughed, “Yeah right, an’ I’m a superhero.”

   Marvin shrugged, “Sleep it off, I’ll try and keep the suits from locking you in a padded cell.”

   “Yer the best, Marv,” Sean told him, and they just kept talking, more joking than anything else until Sean got tired again.

   In five days Sean would run through town in a colorful, oversized hoodie and an old Halloween mask he’d find in Marvin’s box of things. In five days, Sean would race around the city, testing out his newfound super speed.

   But today there were just two friends in an isolated room, talking and laughing. Both of them enjoying the little bit of peace they had while it lasted.

[flamingwhump]

Whumptober 8 Stab Wound

(Also for Alternative Whumptober 1 “Wake up”)

The team had been traveling through the forest for a few days now, they were on the move to their hideout. Sun was heading up the rear keeping an eye on the perimeter around them, always hyper-vigilant. After everything they’d been through no one blamed them. Sun was a natural leader, naturally protective, like everyone’s big sibling.  

Sun’s stoic scanning face cracked into a smile, watching Crimson sneakily jump onto West’s back. He was so used to this maneuver from the team’s weapons and tech expert, he easily caught her wrist as she put her arms out to grapple West’s broad shoulders. He flipped her over his shoulder, flinging her into a bush to the side of him. Koanya busted out in high peals of laughter, they clutched their stomach, the smallest and right up front, they brushed a low branch out of their way. Ko’s laugh fell short as they moved a branch aside.  

The small healer’s eyes went wide, “S-Sun? You’re gonna wanna see this” they barely breathed no louder than a whisper.  

Sun pushed forward through the group, worry creasing their brows. “What-? Oh... Oh gods..” they pressed past the foliage and into a small clearing where a bloody body was propped up against a tree, barely breathing. The figures clothes were torn and nearly destroyed but Sun could tell they were formal- Royal- clothes.  

Sun stopped short, feeling everyone else behind them bumble to a stop. They dug the heels of their muddy boots into the earth, grounding themselves, their face hard and protective. A tall broad figure in a regal emerald green cloak, clasped at the shoulder with a golden emblem marking him as a Lord. The drawn gun in his hand pointing right at Sun had their strong tan arms shooting out to protect their team. They would die before they let this asshole shoot anyone in their little misfit family.  

“Hey, hey now, man, no one needs to get hurt” they took a tentative step forwards and to the side, sweeping West behind them and Ko to the side. They didn’t have a third hand to be touching crimson, but that’s what the protocol is for. Sun didn’t have to worry about that because they knew West had a hand on Crimson and a hand on Ko. Sun also knew West would protect them to the death if anything happened to them.  

The cloaked man just flashed them a sharp wolfish grin.  

“Oh, how precious” he snarled, laughing dark and high like a lightning bolt hitting a tree. Only to leave fire and destruction in its wake. “What exactly are you supposed to be?” He looked over the whole group more closely, as if he was picking them apart in his head. His eyes widened and he gasped once he landed on Crimson, her tail visible above her head and her wings fluttering in defensive anger having caught his eye.  

“What are you doing with that thing?” He recoiled, disgusted, gun lowering minutely in his surprise. “That thing should be in a cage somewhere”   Sun could barely hold her back as Crimson barreled against the barrier of Suns arms. They were strong but they couldn’t hold Crimson back for long when her rage got a hold of her. Thankfully, West stepped in, putting a calming hand on her shoulder  

“Hey, hey-“ he fell suddenly forward as he got an accidental bright red feathered elbow right in the chin. His grip on her shoulder got tighter, his other hand grabbing the elbow that hit him “You’re okay ‘mon, hey-!”   The man just chuckled, laugh building as the half-griffin struggled to get to him to shred him to pieces. “Aww, the mutt seems familiar with the cage. Someone should reacquaint you.” He hummed, face bright and triumphant. The gun was almost all the way at his side now, his other hand on his hip, foot tapping as he considered the ragtag group.   West had to put Crimson in a headlock to get her not to tear Sun’s hair out in an effort to climb over them to get to the man with the gun who would most definitely shoot her. Luckily West was about twice her size, his training peeking through as he kept her immobilized from the waist up as her legs kicked wildly and her head swung from side to side.  

Sun pushed the group further along the edge of the clearing inching closer and closer to the tree that had that slumped person against it.   They struggled to keep their arms up, but they couldn’t until everyone was safe, even this hurt guy against the tree. They managed to glance down between them and West, checking in on Koanya. They had their little dagger out but downward in a defensive position and to the side as they pressed against Suns hip in the middle of the formation. It was protocol to keep Ko in the middle.  

Their eyes flicked back to the danger in front of them, taking a shaky breath, One foot, then the other. Okay. They concentrated and breathed. Slowly, sparks at first crackled and shone around Sun’s fingers, rubbing together for friction. A few flames sprung from their fingertips as they moved forward.   They were parallel now to the snickering lord in front of them. West and crimson were entirely covered by the tree.   “Ko!” West hissed, jerking his head back motioning them to get over to him. Crimson was much calmer now, but she was limp and scowling in West’s arms. 

Ko scurried behind the tree beside West, his arm snaking around their shoulders and they instinctively pressed their body close to his side, breathing in his familiar scent. They put their hand in Crimsons, her scowl softening after the initial start of suddenly touching her hand. She smiled down at Koanya, wanting to reassure them now that their vision had mostly cleared of red.   Sun took a step away from the others and towards the Lord, his cloak flowing in the wind blowing across the clearing. They took another tentative step, lifting their hands, now engulfed in a blaze. Before they could say or do anything he held a hand up, stopping the leader.   “No need, Mage. You can have him.” He said dismissively with a wave of his hand. He holstered his gun. “I’m going back to the castle. I’ve had as much fun with him as I can for now anyways. You get him healthy and I just might see all of you” he made eye contact with Sun and then darted over to Crimson with a wink and a smile, “someday.” he hummed as if in thought but his face never dropped his shark smile as he turned on his heel and disappeared into the forest going the opposite direction.   Sun let out a breath they didn’t know they were holding. Adrenaline coursed through them and they immediately turned from tense and scared to directing the team now that the danger had passed.   “Ko, I need you here” Sun ordered, kneeling beside the figure finally able to look clearly at him for the first time. He looked starved, Sun noticed jutting collarbones and sternum before they saw the blood seeping from his lower stomach.  

“Looks like a stab wound” Sun went to put pressure on the wound and the unconscious lump jolted awake, screeching in pain. Sun gasped, ripping the man’s rags of a shirt off to reveal dark purple blooms across the guys ribs.  

“Fuck, I’m sorry dude. Ko, start with the stab would, then the ribs. Set any more broken bones you can manage and I’m going to start sewing up the cuts on his arms and legs.” They looked from the subject to Koanya, they gave a resolute nod from behind large circle wire framed glasses, their small round face so serious it would be cute if the situation wasn’t so intense right now.   Sun had clocked a bunch of red all over his arms and legs but upon further inspection they were intricate geometric patterns, some kind of floral looking and some looking like alien language. It all flowed in and out of each other like a giant pattern.  

“Fuck” they whispered under their breath. Luckily only a few places were bad enough to be stitched up. They took their backpack off and got the med kit out, 25 stitched over four limbs that’s not that bad in Suns book.  

They looked up and Koanya was on their knees, blue glowing magic flowing into the abdomen, sweat pouring down their face. Sun felt shining pride in that moment, Ko had come so far. The stab wound was gone and the ribs looked almost there.  

“Good job, kid” Sun smiled as they hoisted themselves up, checking in with West, making sure Crimson was okay and released. Warmth bloomed in Koanya’s chest, they always felt like the weakest member of the group, they liked feeling helpful.  

Ko took a small break, breathing heavily as they wiped their brow with the back of their small arm. The guys face twitched and he let out groans and moans as his ribs clicked and creaked back into place, sometimes eliciting gasps from the unconscious man.

Ko wondered who he was, they shook the man a little by his shoulder  

“Hey? Um, hey guy?” They said gently, as if waking up a child from a nap.  

They peered over his face as his brows came together, shaking his head and whining high pitched.  

“Nnnn-” he moaned and tilted his head to the side. Ko gasped in surprise, and shook the man’s shoulder harder  

“No, hey! Hey, wake up!” They insisted. His eyes fluttered open, unfocused and blurry.  

He immediately squeezed them shut with a grimace. He tried to push himself up bracing his hands on the ground and fell back harshly against the tree with a sharp cry.  

“Gods alive! My arms, fuck!” He pulled his arms up in front of him, making sure they weren’t touching anything. He looked down but just saw white bandages and felt the sting of antiseptic.  

Koanya scurried away from the sudden outburst, hiding behind Crimson.  

Sun strode forward, kneeling quickly by the yelling new man  

“Shh, I know I know honey.” They said, taking the mans hands gently “I know it hurts. Can you tell me your name?” They asked, trying to get the man to look at them. He sucked in a breath through gritted teeth.  

He exhaled and tried not to focus on the pain. “I-I,” inhale, shakey exhale “Atlas” he gave a toothy grin that would have been charming if he wasn’t desperately trying to keep himself together.  

Sun racked their brain “where do I know that name?” Their eyes went wide as they realized suddenly, looking back over their shoulder at West, and back at Atlas. “Prince Atlas?” they shook their head, standing and nodding to West. The two of them helped him gingerly to his feet “Well I'll be damned”  

Atlas nodded “T-thank you” he nodded at Sun and looked wildly between this he rest of them, grateful tears welling up in his eyes. Sun clasped the new friend on the shoulder where they knew the cuts didn’t reach.  

“All of us have been through things and we all found each other, most of us in your shape or worse” their eyes softened. “You’re one of us now. Or you will be.” Their gentle hand on his shoulder squeezed a bit.   Atlas’s shoulder sagged in relief. He hadn’t expected that at all, to be protected and accepted without even a question? His body was overwhelmed with exhaustion, he had been running on adrenaline and terror. Now that he finally felt safe it was like all his pain and exhaustion crashed down on him at once. He barely registered being picked up as his heavy eyes finally closed. He snuggled closer to the warmth surrounding him as his world went black.  

[timeisacephalopod]

Moral Alignment

My parents were watching some dumbass reality cop show and I got an idea lmao. So here’s a soul mate thing with Sam/Steve because I really don’t write them enough. This is basically just a long ass crack fic tbh.

Steve kind of hates being a cop. When he was a kid he had all these delusions about saving people and being a good person but all he does is deal with people being assholes and do a lot of running mostly. And the useless calls because some parent wants to teach their fucking kid a lesson. Ugh, if he never gets another one of those calls it’ll be too soon. At the moment he’s stuck patrolling around, which is literally doing nothing for a stupid amount of time but whatever. 

He’s driving down a darker street just to waste his own time when he notices a guy walking along the side of the road dancing a little to whatever is playing in the headphones he’s wearing. When he walks under a street light Steve’s eyebrows go up because wow that guy is hot.

So, like a complete moron, he pulls off to the side of the road where the guy is walking, noting that he’s pulled his headphones off and Steve asks for his name. Technically its something he can do not that he does it often because he thinks its mostly a waste of time but it works for him now. Or at least it does until the guy looks at him, going from somewhat confused to absolutely irritated in a matter of moments as he feels it too. 

That warm, pleasant feeling in the heart that indicates you’ve met your soul mate but there’s also the words, barring that. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” the guy says and Steve’s cheeks heat a little in embarrassment. He had always sort of hoped his words would be wrong but apparently he’s not so lucky. No one ever is but it’d be nice to cheat the system given his um... rocky start to things.

“I mean I’m not that bad...” he says in his own defense.

“‘Not that bad’? You just randomly stopped a man minding his own damn business to ask for his name and you have that nasty mustache,” he says.

Steve touches his face gently, “I busted my razor this morning and I haven’t had time to buy a new one,” he says. “And I only pulled over because I thought you were cute,” he adds, a little embarrassed.

His soul mate rolls his eyes and honestly its the most dramatic thing he’s ever seen and he knows Tony Stark personally. And Clint, for that matter. And Bucky. “You pulled me over because you think I’m attractive? You are a complete waste of my tax dollars,” he says, arms crossed in annoyance.

“I can’t even argue with that,” he mumbles. “I’m a shit cop. Also my name is Steve Rogers, and I still kind of want yours. For soul mate purposes, not cop purposes,” he clarifies.

“Sam Wilson. Are you always this easy to throw off guard? Because that seems like a bad trait for a cop,” he points out.

Steve sighs, “I am unflappable. I once had a woman throw actual turds and vomit at me and I was fine, everything worked itself out. But talking to people I find attractive? Never been good at it.” God knows how the hell he and Peggy managed a relationship when he constantly tripped over his words. She found it endearing until she met Angie but Steve thinks they’re a sweet couple. Very loving.

Sam squints, “and what, you never find the people you arrest attractive?” he asks.

Yeah, its happened. “Usually I have a partner with me so you know, he does stuff. Not much stuff, he’s a way worse cop than me. Once we were trying to deescalate a situation and he hid behind the trash cans with the civilians and left me to it. Thankfully raging drug addict with a gun is not my type.” Bucky though... should not be a cop. Usually Natasha sticks him on desk duty because his ability to organize paperwork is actually pretty good.

“Are there any not shit cops that you work with?” Sam asks, squinting again.

“Pretty much everyone but me and Bucky. Ever seen Brooklyn Nine Nine? We’re Hitchcock and Scully even though we both want to be Rosa or Holt. In that order.” They suck at the job mostly because they have no passion for it, which is what makes anyone good at their job, but now they’re kind of stuck with this so whatever. 

It pays the bills and sometimes Steve gets to rescue kittens from trees so that’s decent. That time he had to chase that one woman through a haunted house with his easily scared best friend and completely useless cop though is far less ‘decent’ as far as career choices go. Bucky damn well knew they were all fake, why did he keep screaming at the ghosts? And everyone thought they were wearing costumes. Fuck Halloween, Steve’s tired of being mistaken for a stripper gram.

“Hmm,” Sam mumbles. “Well, at least you don’t seem racist even if you’ve got all the makings of a ‘go back to your own country’ starter kit going on,” he says, waving an arm around at the car and his face. Steve so resents that but the mustache is a little much. When Natasha saw him this morning she told him he looked like he’d be willing to dry fuck a truck’s tailpipe and Bucky laughed so hard he almost choked to death on his donut.

“Did I really give off that racist of a vibe? I want to know because I don’t really want to give that vibe off,” he says seriously. He might hate being a cop but he doesn’t want to be intimidating either, especially not in a racist way. Though if anyone knew about the Princess Bubblegum and Marceline bobble heads in his car they’d probably not find him intimidating in any kind of fashion.

Sam gives him a look that indicates he’s 200% done with Steve and he really doesn’t know what he did aside from generally being a useless cop. “You pulled over because a black man was dancing around a little on the side of the road? I know I’ve got the rhythm of a drunk white girl grinding on some guy to ‘shake it off’ by Taylor Swift in a club but that’s not illegal,” he says.

Steve lets out a groan and drops his head to the steering wheel, ignoring the sharp ‘beep’ that sounds from the car. “Oh my god you thought I racially profiled you,” he mumbles.

“Bingo,” Sam says. “But... in your slight defense I’d arrest me if I witnessed that too,” he admits. “And also in your slight defense I guess I could have looked like someone you were trying to arrest.” He’s intentionally reaching but its sweet that he’s trying to let Steve off the hook especially since he out and out admitted to pulling him over because he thought he was cute.

He should probably find a new job. “So um. When we tell people how we met we’re telling them I heroically saved your life,” he says.

Sam snorts, “hell no, we’re telling them the truth- that your useless cop ass pulled me over to get my name because you thought I was cute and what were you even going to do after that?” he asks.

Steve winces again, “I didn’t think that far ahead, I was just hoping to strike up a conversation and get your number,” he admits.

“Alright honey, I’m taking pity on you because you are clearly a clueless, yet harmless, human being. Don’t hit on people in uniform, they’ll feel obligated to flirt back. What are you doing?” he asks and Steve lets out another groan.

“God damnit I am not usually this clueless, I swear. I think I might have sensed the soul mate thing because I’m not this stupid normally.” Jesus, he can’t believe he hadn’t thought of that. Thankfully Sam is the brains of this operation of god knows where this would go.

**

Bucky grins, enthused by Steve’s utter embarrassment regarding how he met his soul mate. “Natasha!” he calls, “come here, Steve’s got his best ‘dumb gay slut’ moment yet and it involves his soul mate!” And it’ll probably be his last so he’s pleased that this one is a damn good one.

Natasha immediately sticks her head out of her office, “on a scale of Clint and Phil meeting to you and Tony meeting how good is it?” she asks.

“Better than me and Tony, for sure,” he says and Nat grins, plodding over immediately. Yeah, he would too if the story was better than that time Bucky met Tony literally falling out of the sky and using Bucky as a cushion. He pities Tony for having the noise he made permanently tattooed on his body. Its worse than that noise in that song by Imagine Dragons- Radioactive- after breathing in the chemicals. The good news is that Steve finally topped his ridiculous story with his own.

He explains to Natasha what happened and from start to finish its a damn ride. Natasha snickers, considering Sam for a moment and the man is brave because he stares back. Sometimes when they have trouble getting confessions they send in Nat and most people are so scared they give up basically five seconds into her stare down. “So,” she says, “where do you fit in the Moral Alignment Test?” she asks.

Steve gives Sam a panicked look because this is a trick question- they all made up their own types years ago but Sam just smirks. “I’m chaotic asshole,” he says and Steve’s eyebrows fly up as Bucky gasps.

“You’re my mortal enemy. I’m lawful scared,” he says.

Sam squints at him for a moment before he turns to Steve, “I hope you don’t like this one much because I hate him already. Where do you sit on the alignment?” he asks Steve, who sighs.

“One, that’s the best friend I told you about. The Scully to my Hitchcock even though he’d rather be the Scully to my Mulder. Actually he’d be Mulder. Anyways I’ve been told I’m lawful super slut,” he mumbles, obviously hoping that would get lost in the rest.

Sam snorts, “guess that explains you ‘dumb gay slut’ reputation. Actually, you know what, pulling over to question me because you thought I was hot gave you away. And your lawful scared best friend needs to go,” he adds.

“Don’t be rude, I became a cop so I can arrest annoying people and you’re getting on my nerves,” Bucky tells him.

“How’s that going for you?” Sam asks, deadpan.

“See any annoying people around here?” he asks and from the look on Steve’s face he’s just pulled an Icarus, except he’d flying into the sun, not too close to it.

“I see you,” Sam says, power bombing him verbally through the precinct floor. Well, ok. He set himself up for that.

[aly-the-writer]

So, the other day @hoehoehoelt and I got to discussing what would happen if Adair left Clan Lavellan to join Hal on his adventures around Thedas prior to the Conclave. As I couldn’t get the idea of poor Adair being subjected to at least a few of Hal’s friends I wrote this.

Everything’s under the cut and this turned out a bit longer than I was originally planning for. (A little less crazy though.)

Haleir glanced back to Adair, it’d been a long road from where their clan had been camped and while he was used to traveling on his own without aravels and halla he knew that the first few months of doing so could be rough.

Not that Adair had complained at all, not that Adair ever complained. He hadn’t expected it either, the younger elf thought Taralyn was reasonable. That and he suspected there was some resentment towards him from Adair’s part -

Sabrae needs mages, he’d told the Keeper irritably as he paced. Their First abdicated years ago and Marethari never had a Second. Send him to them!

Haleir, the woman’s unending patience always made her sound amused when he was frustrated into irritation by something, Eight years ago you made the choice to become a Wanderer, and refused that exact same position. Why would I allow you to make your own decision and not Adair?

In the end the best he’d managed to do was convince her to make Adair wait on the vows. He would take Adair out into the world and show him what becoming one of Dirthamen’s Keepers meant and hopefully convince him that this was not the best path for the healer. Adair deserved a family, even if it was away from Clan Lavellan and among one of the others.

After weaving his way through the crowds he finally spotted what he was looking for – a little tavern with a sign carved like a swan sitting in a knight’s helmet.

They needed somewhere relatively safe to stay while Adair adjusted to living in the shemlen cities instead of just passing through them. This place was where he inevitably returned to himself and he trusted that most those there would keep Adair out of trouble – they owed Hal that much.

“So, Adair, ready to have an adventure?” he asked cheerfully as his footsteps carried him up the familiar route.

He hadn’t actually planned on coming west again this trip, he’d intended to travel east – to Kirkwall – and lend his aid to Merrill and help the scattering Kirkwall mages hide or get safely aboard ships to the city Vigil’s Keep in Ferelden. He wasn’t going to throw himself into that mess with Adair at his heels though.

Which meant his arrival at this tavern today would be entirely unexpected, really he wasn’t sure who was around – though he could hear that it was quite noisy inside.

Adair glanced at him to the door that he had his hand on and back again, eyes widening a little, “Hal, I don’t think this is a good ide-UH!”

He’d taken a step back to try and leave but Hal had grabbed him by the shoulder and practically tossed him through the door ahead of him, leaving Adair staggering to keep on his feet as Hal walked in after, a grin on his face.

“HAL! Fight me!” a human with brown hair and purple eyes called out as soon as he saw him. He was tall enough, and staggering a little, his lip already busted and some poor idiot who’d already taken up the challenge already groaned with his head on the table, and a bag of ice on his skull.

“What’d I ever do to you, Trevelyan? Get Cadash to kick your ass,” he informed the noisy shemlen, pitching his voice to be heard over the ruckus as he directed Adair through the room towards a set of stairs in the back of the room.

“What? No! She’d win! Come on!”

Hal laughed but didn’t answer the human this time.

The woman behind the counter at the bar rolled her eyes and waved at him – a smile twitching on her lips before she went back to paying attention to her customers.

Once they were upstairs things were quieter, and he took a note of how tense Adair was as he dropped his hold on the other’s wrist. He’d not wanted to lose him in the business downstairs but he also knew he risked his hand if he kept it there too long.

“We need a safe place to sleep tonight,” Hal told him, slipping past on the narrow hall to another set of stairs, and then another until they reached the fourth floor of the building - the attic really – and he unlocked the door. “This is ‘home’. Make yourself comfortable.”

The room he led them in was small, but cozy, the ceiling slanting sharply with the roof but a window overlooked the city, a bit of the ocean visible as an inky darkness in the night visible from around the corner of another building. Sat on the windowsill looking outwards was a tiny carved wolf that looked identical to the statues found just outside the clan’s most frequent camps.

Hal lit a set of candles to light the room but didn’t bother with the small brazier shoved in the corner. It was meant for warmth more than light and the air was already plenty warm.

It was also clear that Hal was as familiar with his routine here as he was when he came sauntering back into the camp – always visiting the Keeper then Tara and then finally letting Adair hunt him down to check for injuries.

A table was piled with an assortment of books and bits of papers – all research regarding elven lore – and a map of this part of Thedas was hung on the wall above it, its labels written in Qunlat though the major cities had elvish translations written in Hal’s hand by their names.

A spare staff stood quietly in the corner where Hal dumped the one he had carried throughout the journey causing them both to rattle. Adair leaned his in the same place, but much more carefully.

A tidy cabinet stood with an arrangement of dried goods and tins. A few potions labeled in Hal’s shorthand elven stood neatly on its shelves.

A bag with an alchemy kit had been left on the floor just beneath the table. A surprise since he hadn’t though that the brown haired elf had paid any attention to the lessons in the less-magical aspects of healing. Then again with the injuries he had survived maybe Adair shouldn’t be so surprised that some measure of caution regarding having healing potions prepared had been engrained.

A bed that had far too many pillows and stray bits of silk and a fur or two on it was shoved in one corner. Hal had constructed a nest of things he liked the feel of rather than assembling any sort of proper bedding. But, not too surprising considering the number of times he remembered having listened to Taralyn and Hal bicker over Hal not neatening his bed while Hal still lived among the Dalish.

A chest sat at its foot on top of which Hal dropped his backpack before he began to strip off his outer jacket and boots and any of the armor he had actually bothered to put on. His hair came out of its pony tail.

Adair set his things down more neatly that Hal had, looking around. He’d known that there was more to the man than the haphazard behavior and elaborated stories but it was still a little surprising to walk into a place – a human building – and realize that this was where Hal had made himself a home. Was he intruding? He knew that Hal hadn’t wanted to bring him with but surely…

“You’ll have the bed,” Hal commented, “At least until we can get you a cot or something.”

“I’d be fine on the-”

“Complain and I’ll go oblige Trevelyan regarding that fight,” Hal grinned brightly, knowing he was blackmailing Adair. “And, no, I wouldn’t use magic to win.”

Adair shut his mouth and narrowed his gaze, irritated – on one hand he still wanted to disagree but on the other he knew how injury prone Haleir was and he really didn’t want to have to patch him up that night because he was being a pain in the ass.

“Fine,” he muttered.

“Good,” Hal grinned, getting his bed roll from off his pack and spreading it out beneath the window. “Toss me one of those pillows, I’m tired so I know you must be exhausted. If you wake up before me the red head at the bar will feed you. She’s a friend.”

He stifled a yawn as he settled down. “Good night, lethallin.”

Adair nodded before sitting down on the bed. He’d known about Hal’s adventures, knew about this place – The Knightly Goose – from them, though he hadn’t really believed that the tavern full of trouble makers actually existed.

It was a lot to process…it’d been a very long trip and Hal was right, he was exhausted even if the trip had been far quieter than he expected a journey with Hal to be (no one had gotten stabbed yet). Sleep sounded good.

Neither of the elves were first to rise naturally, instead a thunderous knocking on the door demanded they wake.

“Fen’Harel take you,” Haleir growled, rolling to his feet, at some point he’d abandoned his shirt during the night, and throwing the door open. His scowl and posture indicating he was ready to fight.

“I was rather hoping that you would,” the voice had a warm Antivan accent and a grin pulled at his lips. “Or I could take you – I’m really not picky, though I do prefer to leaves the wolves and semi-demonic gods outside the bedroom?”

Adair stared blankly at them, not quite processing what was going on. His heart was pounding in his chest but he was certain they weren’t under attack though the unfamiliar surroundings were still causing him to feel on edge. His brain still caught in the dregs of sleep.

“Stop glaring, Hal, I brought breakfast,” a basket was proffered by way of apology. “And Irina promised to send up some coffee.”

The bribes seemed to do the trick as the older elf huffed a laugh and stepped aside, letting the shemlen into the room as he turned his back to go to the chest and find a fresh shirt.

The human was dark skinned, his smile faded a little as he caught sight of Adair messy haired and tangled up in Hal’s bed – before his eyes found the sleeping roll by the window and he relaxed a little.

“How’d you even find out? I was going to look for you today once I had him settled in helping Irina or something,” Hal asked, voice muffled by the fabric over his head.

“Trevelyan said that he’d been so drunk he thought he saw you and a ghost girlfriend last night. He’s a little too keen to challenge anyone within arms-reach but he’s not generally prone to hallucinations. Except for when you decide Templars don’t particularly scare you again.”

“So every other day?” Hal supplied, earning himself a grin from the stranger and a glare from Adair.

The stranger set the basket on one of the chairs by the table to carefully move the stacks of books, shifting them so he had space to unpack the bounty he’d brought.

He glanced over to Adair who was looking between the two of them, brows knitted together.

“The kid isn’t one of your lovers right?”

“What? No. Definitely not,” Hal’s emphatic reply was mixed with an expression border-lining on horrified. “And don’t you go flirting with him either.”

That got a crinkled nose, “He’s a bit young for me, mi sol.”

Hal snorted before looking to Adair, “This is Laurencio Altimari. Ignore him. He brings food and trouble.”

“Now that’s just rude,” the man tsked, but he was smiling anyways. The same sort of familiarity between them that Hal had with other members of Clan Lavellan.

“This is Adair, he’s basically my brother. No, you can’t take him to a brothel, and no getting him stabbed. I told the Keeper I’d look after him. I believe that means I’m to return him in one piece.”

“I can look after myself,” Adair frowned at Hal. He’d traveled outside the Clan before. Not like this and it was to Tevinter but he had and Fen’Harel had followed him right home to the people he loved.

“Is he a scary priest like you?” Laurencio asked, drawing a knife seemingly from nowhere and beginning to cut an apple from the basket apart. He offered Hal a slice on his blade which the elf took easily with his fingers as he passed by, headed towards the door again.

“I am not a scary priest,” Hal informed him at the same time Adair frowned, “He knows?”

Part of being one of Dirthamen’s Chosen was that you had to pose as an exile to the outside world. No one should know that Hal was even in contact with his people let alone what he was.

Not that Hal answered him – like most questions that Hal didn’t want to answer he pretended not to hear, which might have been slightly better than the alternative which usually involved him making up something ridiculous.

“I just want to know if he’s going to yell at creepy five-legged elvish monsters to make them listen to him too. As you have yet to surpass that stunt in pure stupidity as of yet.”

“Only where you’ve been able to see,” Hal flashed a smirk.

“…five legged monster…” Adair repeated before his eyes widened and he turned on Hal, “The Varterral story wasn’t you exaggerating. Are you insane?”

Hal snorted before he answered the door at the soft knock, apple shoved in his mouth so he had a reason not to answer. And accept the tray from the maid there, passing her a piece of silver for her trouble.

“If you’re the Adair I think you are, you grew up with him. Why do you have to ask if he’s insane?” Altimari sounded amused. He had also gone to the cabinet in the corner to take out three plates and a tin.

Adair glanced at him and sighed, not answering the human but he was right enough. It probably shouldn’t have been unexpected with Hal, though it begged a question how many of the impossible stories that Hal had told him over the years weren’t so impossible.

The tin he passed to Hal as the elf settled down while Altimari filled the plates with fresh fruit, sausage and little warm rolls of some kind filled with egg and cheese. He handed Adair his first and then followed it with one of the mugs now filled with the dark liquid from the container that had been sent up.

Hal yawned a bit and opened the tin to dump a measure of sugar into his mug.

“I suppose there’s no reason to ask what happened to Kirkwall,” the human sounded amused, as he settled down cross legged on the floor. Hal moved to sit next to him, his knee brushing the other man’s.

“You mean besides the Champion?” Hal drawled.

It was a common joke in the other Marcher states – blame anything that happened in or around Kirkwall on the infamous Garrett Hawke. Though it was actually accurate given the events that had started the mage troubles.

Adair had fixed him with a sharp look, “You were going to get involved with the Mage Rebellion, weren’t you?”

Hal’s shrug wasn’t answer enough and he glared, exasperation washing away any trace of his earlier sleepiness. Did that idiot really have no idea how to stay in one piece? How had he even managed to survive all this time on his own?

“I’m thinking with another mage we can handle that Tevinter treasure,” Hal commented to the human instead.

“The one with the demon that Cadash said that if we did she was going to kill us herself for being gigantic fools?”

“That’s not what she said.”

“There are young ears present, I am being responsible.”

That got a laugh, “Well that’s a first. Is that also why I’ve not been kissed properly? ‘Young eyes present’?”

“I’m nineteen,” Adair said – he wasn’t that young. Or innocent. And…‘kissed properly’? Was…

He stared at the human – really looked at him. An easy, deadly posture, sets of daggers that marked him out as some kind of rogue, light armor and a belt that looked like it might contain potions but most likely those vials were poisons not healing drafts. He was handsome enough, could see what Hal would be interested in but…

“Are you two?” he could feel heat rising in his ears and cheeks – not quite certain.

“Are we?” the human tilted his head at Hal. “Or is it just a sex thing?”

“I thought there were feelings – you’re calling me your sol again. That usually means feelings, right? Or is that a friend thing now?”

“What about that pirate? The Qunari elf?”

“She stabbed me.”

“Since one has that been a turn off for you?” he raised a brow, a smirk playing on his lips, “Because last I checked when I tried it we ended up in bed.”

Hal coughed, and looked away, his ears gone bright red now. He never claimed to have good tastes. Considering his list of recent partners there was maybe one or two that hadn’t actively tried to kill him or gotten him nearly killed.

Adair was definitely doing his best to pretend he couldn’t hear, his eyes averted away from the pair.

“You didn’t actually stab me though,” Hal grumbled. “You just have trust issues.”

“I do recall that I ended up impaling you in the end that night, though.”

Hal laughed – the terrible innuendo still making him blush but he was losing the awkwardness that had flared up moments before – and gently elbowed the other man’s arm in protest.

“So, that map you found checked out. Had my brother translate it for me - there’s definitely a demon guardian though.”

“We’ll have to wait for Cadash or bring la chevalier with us.”

“Cadash - she’s more fun.”

“You mean she doesn’t stop you when you’re about to be a lunatic,” the human’s expression was a long-suffering one that nearly mirrored Adair’s.

“Hmm....same thing.”

Adair sucked in a deep breath – that’s it.

Hal was insane.

He was going to die somehow because there was no way that he was even half as durable and how in Mythal’s name was Hal still alive? Also, he might need a spell to remove memories because knowing this much about Hal’s personal life was…scarring.

He was beginning to remember why Taralyn had been his favorite of the twins growing up.

[ofcoursetheyrefictional]

Ace: Chapter 3

Lily was true to her word in not saying anything to Jackie, as far as she knew I just had the stomach flu that simply never progressed to throwing up. It wasn't so much a lie that I wan't feeling well enough to go out or even get to my classes for the day, but it wasn't  so much a physical malady as I just couldn't think straight. I kept confusing myself as to pretty much every emotion and mental conversation that I was having. The question remained as to why I had brought him here, but more had popped up like why I never asked his name, why he even helped me to begin with, or why I hadn't wanted him to leave when Lily came in.

So, I sat in bed all day, a now cold cup of tea sitting by my bed, text books that I couldn't get one paragraph into open around me as I lay curled up in my soft white covers. The last time I felt this way every move I made was a mistake and it ended up hurting in every way possible.

Do you know those feelings though, the ones that won't let you sleep or even breathe without feeling that there's something that you need to do, the ones that you don't know if they're going to hurt  or heal you and at that point you don't care anymore.

That's what this was, I felt like I was stuck somewhere in between paralyzing fear and the desperate need to resolve this. What the fuck am I doing.

I threw off my covers, books falling off of my bed. Grabbing any shirt and jeans off of the ground that I could find I threw them on and pulled on my shoes before grabbing my keys and phone I ran out the door.

"Cara, where are you going?"

"I'll be back later. "

I ran until I was out of the building at which point my mind caught up with me. Which way am I supposed to go.

I tried looking either way to try and see any reason to go either way. Of course there wasn't, he left yesterday there wouldn't be any trace of him. I couldn't help but deflate, feeling immensely defeated before I had even started. I started walking not paying attention to direction or anything to be  frank.

What caught me off guard though was that I had brought myself back to the alleyway where he had saved me, there was no one in it now of course, thank god. I started to walk down it, hoping that maybe it would lead me to where he was, he had to have been there for a reason before, why wouldn't he come back.

He wasn't there, wherever there was. I walked through the park and down a couple of more streets before walking home, it was getting dark and I didn't know where else to look, maybe at that club but that would mean not only having to go across town but having to get dressed up and even finding the man that saved me wasn't worth that discomfort to me.

The walk home felt slower than the hours that I had spent wandering around, the streets and eventually the hallway seemed to stretch themselves with each step that I took. That was the only thing that my brain seemed to focus in on until I got to the apartment door. There were three voices inside, one of them male and I was not looking forward to opening the door because I knew exactly who would be sitting on the couch.

Unlocking the door I stepped in to see Kyle, much to my satisfaction and slight excitement sitting on the couch holding a bloody rag to his nose that was swollen to match his black eye and busted lip. His pain was bringing me too much enjoyment for my own good.

"You're smiling, are you happy to see me?"

My face dropped as he spoke, "No, just happy to see your pain."

"Doesn't surprise me, it was your little boyfriend that did this to me."

My eyes widened, "Where was he?" It came out almost as a whisper.

"Oh so he is your boyfriend?"

"I asked you where is he?" My voice came out more forcefully, borderline yelling.

"Cara, don't yell at him, he's hurt."

"Down by that shitty little coffee shop, the one with the bad music."

I ran. None of the blood on Kyle's face had dried yet, it couldn't have been too long ago that he had seen him. There was a chance that he was still around.

I only stopped when I got to the coffee shop, looking in any and every direction.I looked to the right of the shop and saw a flash of red hair under the street lamp.

"Hey, wait." Apparently he didn't hear me because he just kept walking, that or he didn't thin it was for him. I kept running until I was close enough to brush his shoulder.

He turned around only to see me slightly hunched over and trying to breath, "Are you good?"

"Yeah, sorry, I just haven't ran that much in a long time. I was looking for you."

"Why would you do that, it seemed like you didn't need me anymore."

"I'm sorry about yesterday, that was Lily, she's a little bit protective over me when it comes to guys. That's besides the point, I wanted to thank you again, I uh, I saw what you did to Kyle, just now. That and I figured I should at least know the name of the guy that saved me."

He was smirking down at me, "What?"

"Its just that we don't even know each other's names and I've already seen you in three no four different emotional states."

"Yeah, well it's been an interesting couple of days. I'm Cara."

I held out my hand for him to shake, "Ace."

When we let go of the other's hands something seemed to click in his head, "Wait, did you say that you saw what I did to him? Were you at the coffee shop?"

"No, I had actually just been getting home, he was in the living room."

"He was in the living room? Why the fuck was he in the living room?"

His face was getting red with frustration, I placed my hands on his chest, "Hey, its chill for now, I live with his girlfriend, he doesn't come around a lot."

His face seemed to calm down at this only for  mine to heat up in the realization that I had my hands pressed flat against his chest. I pulled them away.

"I uh, I should get home, Kyle should have left by now."

"I can't let you go back to that house, not tonight, not if he's there."

"Ace, I don't have anywhere to go, all of my family's in Florida and I don't have really have any friends except Lily." My voice trailed off at the end.

"You can stay with me for the night I have a spare room, you don't have to go back tonight, and I won't be worried about you."

"I can't ask you to do that, really."

"You weren't asking."

I nodded slightly unsure, but he had a point I didn't feel safe there and I doubted that Jackie would let him go home after having his face bashed in, I laughed as we turned to walk in the direction that he was originally heading.

"What?"

"It's nothing, you just fucked him up good."

"Oh, you enjoyed that? Good, 'cause it may be easier to have you clean my hands off rather than try and do it myself. "

"Gladly, its the least I could do."

His apartment was much nicer than I had expected, taking up almost a whole floor of the building that it was in. He led me past the living room and down the hall to a bathroom that was the size of at lest two normal bathrooms put together. He reached in the cabinet under the sink and pulled out a first aid kit and set it on the counter.

"You're not going to have a panic attack again are you?"

"No", I said, sitting myself on the counter next to the kit, "that was just because I was still wired from the whole situation."

I pulled out a couple of gauze pads and strips, ointment, and the rubbing alcohol before pulling him toward me by his hands. I held them over the sink as I dumped some of the alcohol over his split and bloody knuckles before blotting them dry with the gauze. I could feel him watching me as I spread the ointment as gently as I could over the broke skin and wrapping the gauze over them.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

"The spare room's across the hall and mine's at the end if you need anything."

"Okay."

"There's towels and stuff if you want to take a shower. I'm uh, yeah, goodnight Cara."

"Goodnight Ace, and thank you really."

He nodded before walking down the hall, out of sight.

I got a shower and went to sleep in a strange bed, but it was quiet possibly the best sleep I had had in a while. I felt safe.

[junker-town]

A taxonomy of all the fans you see at the Tour de France

Ryan Siu

The Tour de France has the most colorful cast of fans in the world. Here is one man’s attempt to categorize them all.

The Tour de France claims to be the most-attended sporting event in the world. It’s certainly the world’s largest arena. Anyone can walk up and claim a spot along 2,000-plus miles of roadside and see it live, for free, no ticket necessary. As a result, there may not be a more colorful cast of fans anywhere.

Here is a taxonomy of the people you might see next to the road of the Tour de France. It is as exhaustive as I could make it, but by no means complete. Please let me know if I missed a key subgroup in the comments. Or just @ me.

Locals

“Local” here is loosely defined as anyone who easily blends into the scenery. I reckon most of the people you see by the side of the road don’t come from far, but it’s a specific set who are so comfortable with the environment they can seem like a natural part of it.

Locals with furniture

Locals without furniture

Ryan Siu

Some people don’t think through their day at the Tour de France as much more than showing up, standing around for hours, snagging a free hat, yelling their asses off for the three seconds that riders are going by, and going home.

On the far end, some locals won’t watch the Tour go by except in utmost comfort, hauling out full living room sets by the side of the road so they can eat a four-course lunch, smoke cigarettes, snag a free hat, yell their asses off for the three seconds that riders are going by, and go home.

Man in a ditch sleeping at a 90-degree angle on a mountain

A surprising number of people like to sleep next to the Tour de France. While others are picnic-ing, drinking, chatting, or doing any of the things people usually do to pass the time before a sporting event, others are curled up on some nearby grass using a jacket as a pillow.

Something about the brutal climb up to La Planche des Belles Filles made one man supremely comfortable. He stuck his butt in the ditch next to the road, bent his body into a perfect ‘L’, and slumbered peacefully before the riders came by.

Keepers of the regional flag

Ryan Siu

Usually young men, these people have taken upon themselves the duty of reminding people where they are. It’s a noble task, given how quickly the Tour passes in and out of regions. A notable subset of these people are Bretons, who will show up anywhere and everywhere to wave Brittany’s flag.

Note: France’s regional flags are beautiful.

French local industry protestors

Either in favor of industry or against industry, and usually equipped with a spray-painted burlap sign. In the Vosges mountains it was against industry, namely loggers who had been clearing out the area. On rural roads everywhere, it was local farmers standing up against corporate mega-farming. A good reminder that the gorgeous scenery is made up of real places and doesn’t simply exist over the course of the 23 days we get to stare at it through our TVs.

Window creepers

I see you, peeking down at the road around a half-closed shutter.

Window flaunters

We see you, standing with a glass of wine and a cigarette with a perfect view down onto the finish line that everyone who’s mushed up against the barrier would kill to have.

Un-boozed

Banging on the plastic panels lining the final meters into the finish in an enthusiastic yet still-hinged manner.

Boozed

Ryan Siu

Just murdering that shit.

Cheeky old people

La Planche des Belles Filles was the first Category 1 climb of the 2019 Tour, at seven kilometers and gradients that tipped into 20 percent near the top. Its name translates to “The Plank of the Beautiful Girls,” and references the legend of a group of local girls who fled into the Vosges mountains to escape capture by Swedish mercenaries during the Thirty Years’ War. They committed suicide by throwing themselves off the mountain into the lake below rather than be taken captive.

Ryan Siu

This terrible story that gets repeated every time La Planche is featured in the Tour also set up this terrible exchange between a group of old friends sitting in folding chairs and me as I was mid-climb to the top, and very tired.

Them: “Keep going! The Belles Filles are at the top!”

Me: “Look for the plank, right?”

Them: “Oui!”

Fin.

Old guys just hanging out by themselves

Ryan Siu

LOTS of them. Just there to see what the hubbub’s about. Often reading a newspaper.

Seekers

What’s the point being at the Tour de France if you can’t get proof? And else are you gonna do when Julian Alaphilippe is suddenly two feet away from you? Leave him be? Don’t be stupid.

Autograph kids

At the start of every stage, every rider has to ride up to a big dais on a stage where an emcee is jabbering away in French to a crowd. On the way, they often have to ride along fencing where adorable children beg for autographs and look very sad when a rider goes by without stopping.

Which, in actuality, is surprisingly rare. Most riders stopped, especially if they were among the bigger names. I saw Geraint Thomas, Julian Alaphilippe, Thibaut Pinot, and Peter Sagan — perhaps THE four most popular riders in the 2019 edition of the Tour — all give their time to the kids who wanted their attention, despite being in the throes of one of the most competitive Tours in memory.

Autograph adults

Only got anything signed when they essentially shoved a pen in a rider’s hand and moved it for them.

People who will do anything for the Gram

Ryan Siu

Surprisingly few during the nine stages I saw in 2019, so I’d like to think the world is becoming a better place where people feel less and less compelled to document their every move, even to the potential physical detriment of themselves and others, in hopes of capturing fleeting joy of accruing internet points.

But I also wasn’t in the high mountains like I was in 2014, where Gram-happy fans were a pox.

People who will do anything for a polka-dot hat

Ryan Siu

Of all the iconic pieces of swag at the Tour de France — the hats, the kits, the flags, the signs — nothing is more sought after than any item with polka-dots on it. The dots represent the jersey given to the rider leading the King of the Mountains classification. More importantly, as far as swag goes, they aren’t flat yellow — which feels sacrilegious to wear — or green or white — which are far too boring.

When the caravane comes by tossing out polka-dot hats (brought to you by the fine people at Leclerc superstores), the barriers are crushed with fans. Better to politely ask someone who got two if you can have their spare.

People who will do anything for a glimpse of AlaPinot

As much as fans interfere with the riders of the Tour de France, and as taxing as it must be to deal with knuckleheads on a daily basis while also trying to stay focused on the unfathomably difficult race at hand, it is refreshing to see world-class athletes commune with the people who adore them.

Before each stage, team buses are typically situated near stomach-high metal fencing where fans might be able to stand within 15 feet of riders as they come off the team bus and mill around. For the biggest heros — the Alaphilippes, or Pinots — even just catching a glimpse of their kits through the photographers and journalists surrounding them is a thrill. After all, could you imagine ever getting so close to Tom Brady or Lionel Messi as they stretched?

For lesser riders, you can even have a conversation. And by “lesser” I don’t mean bottom of the peloton riders. I saw Rigoberto Uran, a pre-Tour yellow jersey contender and second-place finisher in 2017, walk off the Education First bus to a group of Colombian fans who had been chanting his name. EF isn’t having the strongest Tour, granted, but the scene was quiet around the bus compared to the French squads, and Uran stood with his arm up on the fence for a good three or four minutes, chatting and smiling with the people who came just to see him.

Then he popped his helmet on and prepared to put his body through hell.

Creatures

Unlike locals, creatures exist solely to stand out amongst the scenery. They’re there to be seen — photographers love them, and they love photographers. Whether anybody else gets a kick out of them is another matter, but also entirely besides the point.

Ryan Siu

Lapinou

Lapinou is a man dressed in a pink bunny costume. Lapinou holds a sign telling you he is Lapinou. Lapinou is the creepiest anthropomorphic bunny since Frank from Donnie Darko.

Zaza and Sasha

Zaza wears a gymnast uniform. Sasha is her brother. You know it’s them because above their camper is an enormous sign that says “ZAZA AND SACHA.” Vehicles in the caravane stop and talk to them on a daily basis.

The Devil

Getty Images

Tales of this man’s demise have been greatly exaggerated. Didi Senft has been a fixture on the Tour since 1993. He’s stuck around long enough to become a mostly welcome sight for fans and riders. He was reportedly going to retire in 2014, but he has continued to attend the Tour, appearing on every stage thus far in 2019.

Bro in far too little clothing

Did you know that people are still busting out Borat mankinis for laughs? In 2019!

Color

Not necessarily a local, but not necessarily looking to be noticed, either, those who add to the color of the Tour de France are perhaps the best, most earnest subset of fans. They’re not trying to stand out, but they shine all the same by making the atmosphere undeniably better.

Belgians

Ryan Siu

The Grand Départ in Brussels showed me what cycling fanaticism truly means.

In many ways, Belgium embodies the Tour better than its eponymous nation. France likes to wield the Tour with a subdued sense of duty. Belgium, a country lopped onto France’s head like a brain slug, wields it like the sack of firecrackers that it is. Belgium regularly gets Tour stages, but not regularly enough to get used to the novelty. Saturday in Brussels will be the first Belgian start for the Tour de France since 2012, and the city is filled to the cracks with decorative yellow and green and polka dot nods to the race.

The people came in many varieties — there were the locals at a Flemish bar, a dad who knew Tiesj Benoot, two old ladies drinking beer in lawn chairs just off their curb — but they all wanted to tell you their best Eddy Merckx story, and they were all supremely friendly.

The people who cheer at everyone who rides a bicycle like they’re in the Tour de France

Before every stage, fans can ride the course on their own. And every one gets cheered like they’re Bernard Hinault. I probably heard “Allez Pinot!” directed 10,000 times to people who definitely weren’t Pinot, and it never got old.

The fans who brought every nation’s flag to the Tour

Louis Bien

An evolution of cheering everyone who rides a bicycle in the Tour de France is bringing a flag of every country represented in the Tour so that, when you find out where someone is from, you can bust out their flag and shout a former national hero at them, like the German man who got “Jan Ullrich! Jan Ullrich!”

The four fans claimed to be from Belgium, Luxembourg, Uzbekistan, and Romania.

Old woman in a bright green vest who blew kisses at every vehicle that passed by

She was miniscule, appeared to be in her 80s, and walking briskly up a mountain at the time.

Guy who spent 15 minutes blowing up an inflatable lobster

No notes.

Amateur cyclists, especially geriatrics with calves of coiled steel

Ryan Siu

A lot of people like to ride their bikes before the Tour de France: some in full kit, some in cargo shorts; some with a tow rope attached around their kid’s bike, some who look and ride like they once hoped to taste Tour glory.

They’re all heroes, especially those who brave the major climbs that the professionals will be taking on later in the day. But none are quite as awe-inspiring as the older set who have faces like your grandma and legs like Pawel Poljanski. They have never gone anywhere except via bicycle, and they are both inspiring and frightening.

Mega cycling legend stuffed in a suit

They will be hauled up on stage to shake hands and be gawked at. They will either appear extremely happy to be there, or extremely uncomfortable. And they will have a look that seems to wonder if perhaps the crowd could love them more.

Bros

Bros dominate the Tour landscape, from big groups of bros to intimate groups of bros, across all ages and levels of verve. Sitting around and drinking in a weird place has been a staple of brohood since the beginning of man, making the Tour perhaps the ultimate bro out event.

Bachelor party bros

Ryan Siu

Soccer is their favorite sport, actually, but the Tour was coming right by and how could you not? Heading to a music festival later.

Old man bros

Sittin’ ‘round a cooler that they hauled up in the trunk. Not into dressing up.

Young bros

Sittin’ ‘round a cooler that they hauled up in the trunk. Shirtless or wearing a team kit and cycling casquette, most likely.

Bros who fiercely stan one rider

Ryan Siu

Usually in groups while wearing matching T-shirts and exhibiting personality traits befitting the riders.

A sampling:

Dumoulin Fan Club: Respectful, demur, cool like the rider himself. Also thoroughly lost, given Dumoulin is rehabbing in another country.

King Küng Freunde, AKA the KKF: Loyal, pensive, and happy to be here.

Sagan Team: Won’t stop jumping up and down for one goddamn second.

Bros in a cycling caravan dragging mini kegs of Heineken down the road

Ryan Siu

Tempting to call them creatures, but their friendship is real and they charm the pants off everyone who stops and talks with them. Plus they make it all the way up a mountain on that contraption.

Campers

The hardest of the hardcore drive themselves to every stage and live out of an RV for three weeks. The people residing in them are a combination of the Locals, Color, and Creatures above. But there are some delineations worth discussing.

River bathers

Showerers

Ryan Siu

Perhaps the biggest distinction among the campers is how they take care of their personal stank. If you can afford it, you get a camper with a fully-equipped shower in it, in which you case you’re probably also the type who will be rolling out an incredible spread of red wine, paté, and fine cheeses on a card table before every stage.

If you can’t afford it, you’re showering at campsites when you can find them, or, in a pinch, rinsing off in a nearby body of water. Your spread will look more like a standard sporting-event fare of salty snacks eaten on top of a cooler, but you will still have a bottle of red wine because you’re in France, for God’s sake.

Caravaners

Ryan Siu

RVs traveling in packs of three or more are particularly impressive because that means sometimes spending hours the night before a stage hunting for the perfect spot big enough to accommodate everyone. Doing that every night for three weeks represents a level of dedication to friendship that is both touching and ill-advised.

DOGS

Lots of people bring their dogs to the Tour de France. They are usually better behaved than their humans, and they are all good.

Officials

People need to run and document this massive three-week enterprise. They walk around with badges and are only semi-sure how anything is supposed to work.

Cops

Ryan Siu

Lots of them! Enough to be their own subspecies. Briefly, we have:

Good cops (Will help you cross the course)

Bad cops (Is upset you asked to cross the course)

Clueless cops (Possibly from out of town, not sure where the course is)

Cops who are taking their jobs way too seriously (Will point you to the 30-minute drive you’re supposed to take to cross the course)

Cops who don’t have nearly enough to do (Will help you cross the course, but first wants to hear about your life for 30 minutes)

Cops who probably aren’t taking their jobs seriously enough (Too busy trying to get a polka-dot hat to help you cross the course)

People with badges and green polos

Tour pro tip: Show up to the course with a yellow lanyard and a plain green polo, and you’ll have free reign over the Tour de France. On race day, no one is more respected than the person who you think looks official.

Over-eager emcee

Simultaneously calling the race for fans at the finish line, while also keeping the atmosphere FUN and ENERGETIC and just, real quick, double checking that everyone is having FUN even though the riders are two hours away still. Incomprehensible except when he’s pronouncing every rider’s name like there’s a period between each syllable, so that Thibaut Pinot is actually TEE. BO. PEE. NO.

Journalists

Also get yellow lanyards. Allowed to wander in the fence sometimes. Have it pretty good, actually.

[cryptoquicknews-blog]

New Post has been published here https://is.gd/3KiZaX

RIP ICOs: 2019 Will Be the Year of Enterprise Blockchain Tokens

This post was originally published here

Ajit Tripathi is a partner at ConsenSys, where he specializes in global financial services business development and corporate venture strategy.

The following is an exclusive contribution to CoinDesk’s 2018 Year in Review. 

One year ago, I wrote an article for CoinDesk in which I humbly argued that the price of ether didn’t matter and what everyone in the blockchain community should focus on is building useful applications instead.

Hate to say I told you so, but… I did.

A few short months later, CryptoKitties were chased away by the bears, the initial coin offering (ICO) boom was gone, and the euphoria of $1,000 ether and $20,000 bitcoin had been replaced by the dire prognostications that crypto was “ded.”

Below I review what I regard as the major developments of 2018, and what lies ahead in 2019. And at the risk of being accused of double-spending, I’m going to quote freely from my earlier article, since many of the points I made have been vindicated or bear repeating.

When you’re #ODL and you know it…

Until June 2018, enticing crypto engineers to work on any enterprise product was hard, very hard. The lure of tokens ran rampant.

Most people in my dot-com generation learned the hard way that showing up at 8 a.m. and burning brain fuel until 10 p.m. is kinda the only way. But what 24-year-old who can write a grammatically correct sentence with “token” and “moon” in the same breath wants to do that?

When the dot-com microcaps were booming, I didn’t either. What exactly are these cash flows… duh! But, as I wrote a year ago:

“One day everyone in crypto will have to generate fiat revenues and profits in some form.”

When most of the tokens later crashed spectacularly, moon and lambo swiftly retreated from the social discourse and boring middle class concepts like enterprise technology, real human users and a fiat salary re-entered human conversation.

Deja vu, deja vu…

The year of regulation

I quote myself, yet again: “Dealing with other people’s money is always going to be regulated”.

In 2018, when folks in crypto weren’t talking about the tanking prices, we were talking about regulation or hoping it’d go away. Well, it didn’t.

In February, Chairman Christopher Giancarlo of the Commodity Futures Trading Commission advocated a “do no harm” approach to crypto regulation, referring to the erstwhile U.S. approach to the internet.

The clearest and most concise guidance from a regulator came in February from the Swiss, who, to their credit, have been forward-looking in their acknowledgment of the potential of blockchain technology so far. The Swiss Financial Market Supervisory Authority, or FINMA, clearly laid out the various types of tokens and what makes a token a payment token or a utility token or a security.

Both sides of the securities law debate were woken up by the U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission (SEC) director of corporate finance, William Hinman, when he stated in June that to his understanding, “the ethereum network and its decentralized structure, current offers and sales of ether are not securities transactions.”

We the British, maintained our classical studious approach, studying and further studying the space and to our credit, doing no damage, either in support or opposition of the crypto space while calling for good behavior and manners… yes, manners all this time.

On the policy front, the European Commission led the way with a systematic approach to engaging with the blockchain community through the EU Blockchain Observatory.

The year of ‘ded’ ICOs

That said, the news flow in 2018 was dominated not by hardworking engineers building great technology but by traders and bankers mooning and REKTing things, as they do best.

Against the flow, as ICOs boomed I mused…

“I suspect that each year, half of the ICO-funded startups from the previous year will die – if they even make it that long.”

Well, they didn’t.

As EY reported:

“86% are now below their listing price; 30% have lost substantially all value. An investor purchasing a portfolio of The Class of 2017 ICOs on 1 January 2018 would most likely have lost 66% of their investment. Of the ICO start-ups we looked at from The Class of 2017, only 29% (25) have working products or prototypes, up by just 13% from the end of last year.”

Forgive them for they know not of which they speak

So many many folks mused that since ICOs were doing so badly and since most ICOs were launched on ethereum, ethereum must also be “ded.” Well, the price chasers were wrong then and they are wrong now.

As I said to CoinDesk editor in chief Pete Rizzo in a video interview at Consensus 2018, “cryptocurrencies are online community assets.”

Any token that has survived at least one boom or bust and has a thriving community (of people, not trolls and trading bots) has the potential to be used by many many more people over the next two decades as this technology matures and as these platforms scale.

We haven’t even scratched the tip of the iceberg with our ice skates yet. Further, ethereum is the leading platform today because of its ecosystem, which only seems to grow and accelerate…

The year of the ecosystem

Turns out, the price of ether is the least interesting feature of ethereum. I said back then…

“Ethereum has momentum, developer adoption, and a team that is willing to address the technical limitations even at risk to the price of ether. This is why I am making a big bet of time on ethereum rather than a bet of money in crypto. It has people who are serious about the Web 3.0 vision and solving real consumer and business problems.”

At DevCon4, Joseph Lubin, the illustrious co-founder of ethereum, made his famous “killer ecosystem” speech. The way I understood it was that we’re so early in this technology that it’s the quality and depth of the ecosystem surrounding a blockchain platform that’d define its long-term success or failure.

Waiting for a killer app is a fool’s errand because killer apps don’t quite tell you in advance that they are killer apps. The way to get to a whole range of killer apps is to unleash the creative power of developers, enterprises, investors and other agents of society.

That to date has been ethereum’s singular achievement.

The week before, Joe received a memorable reception at Sibos, the biggest conference in banking. Sibos featured enterprise platforms like komgo, Adhara and Trustology in addition to solutions from DAH, Hyperledger, Corda and Ripple and ran talks to packed business audiences.

At the end of Sibos, the most common refrain from the attendees was… “blockchain is here to stay”.

Indeed, the crypto ecosystem of hoodies had just started to merge with the enterprise ecosystem of suits

The year of #buidl

I am insufferable… I quote myself again:

“The question is what did we solve, enhance, or deliver that will make individuals, companies or governments produce more, be more efficient, or enjoy their lives and relationships more?”

In my book, the crowning glory of the year for the entire enterprise blockchain community, and not just the ethereum community, was the production release of VAKT, a platform for trading of physical commodities and komgo, a trade finance platform for commodities that interoperates seamlessly with VAKT. These two platforms were built from start to finish within 2018 on ethereum and marked the arrival of enterprise ethereum in real production use.

The coolest piece of kit produced by enterprise blockchain in 2019 was Kaleido. Built by ex-IBM engineers at ConsenSys, Kaleido enabled one-click industrial-grade deployment and support of enterprise ethereum-based applications. This is a much bigger deal than it sounds.

Development is arguably less than 20 percent of the effort over the lifetime of any enterprise application. Deployment and support are the other 80 percent. Kaleido took 80 percent of the effort out of that 80%.

The most valuable piece of engineering in blockchain was Open Law which enabled the creation of smart contracts whose execution corresponds demonstrably with the underlying legal contracts. In essence, Open Law put the “contract back in smart contracts” and opened up a vast range of real-world applications in financial and non-financial asset markets.

The most readable news in blockchain was Evan Van Ness’ “This Week in Ethereum,” a relentlessly BUIDL focussed newsletter that was a source of perspective through the amusing hysteria and paranoia of the #crypto investor community.

The year tokens came to enterprise

While no one was watching, tokens came to enterprise financial services as Euronext and other ecosystem partners went to pilot at Liquidshare, a consortium re-engineering the interaction between post-trade parties by leveraging blockchain technology and developing a new infrastructure for small and medium-size enterprises (SMEs) in Europe.

In June, the South African Central Bank. working on Project Khokha, proved that a new wholesale payment system built on ethereum can process a day’s worth of interbank payments in less than two hours, that too with full confidentiality and finality.

The Monetary Authority of Singapore and SGX, the city-state’s stock exchange, announced in September that they have successfully developed delivery versus payment (DvP) capabilities for the settlement of tokenized assets across different blockchain platforms.

The public blockchain space started to create enterprise-friendly (and -unfriendly) fiat tokens at pace. As CoinInsider reported, 45 stablecoin projects had raised $350 million in funding by November.

The jokes about a stablecoin going to the moon suddenly didn’t sound like jokes anymore.

2019… The year of enterprise tokens

When you follow the market news too closely, it’s difficult to not be blinded by the obvious. So what’s really going on?

It turns out that the first killer app of the internet was not email. It was the ridiculously simple web page. The first killer app of blockchain is the ridiculously simple token.

A token is a mere smart contract that encapsulates the rules governing the exchange of an asset. Once this contract can be generated from an underlying legal contract and shown to execute in line with the legal contract, regulated, legally sound applications of blockchain become possible. This is a big deal.

It turns out, all economic activity, micro or macro is built on top of legal contracts. Unfortunately, because of information asymmetries, cost of enforcement, the risk of disputes and uncertainty in legal systems, the cost of contracting in too many transactions can exceed the benefit of the transaction.

Smart contracts that execute in line with legal contracts provide evidence of state on-chain and ship with dispute resolution systems can dramatically reduce the costs of contracting and the cost of enforcement, unlocking economic activity across industries and economies.

All that in a little token…

Ok, so should I buy? SODL? HODL?

I quote myself again

“Does that mean you should buy ether today? I can’t and don’t offer investment advice.”

In 2019, tokens will invade the enterprise in full force. The de-siloing of systems that began with multiple energy and bank companies creating VAKT and komgo will accelerate exponentially across applications such as gaming, securities markets, trade finance, intellectual property, digital collectibles, patents and licenses, real estate and many many more, and by 2020, start to show what all the fuss around blockchain was really all about.

Even more importantly, the boundary between public and private networks will start to disappear as assets on one network need to be exchanged with assets on another. Ethereum is uniquely position to grow from this phenomenon.

To conclude, indulge me as I quote myself one last time:

“When we are dead, it’s not what we HODL or SODL that matters. It’s what we BUIDL.”

Rebirth image via Shutterstock.

#crypto #cryptocurrency #btc #xrp #litecoin #altcoin #money #currency #finance #news #alts #hodl #coindesk #cointelegraph #dollar #bitcoin View the website

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[awkwardly-romantic]

Prompt idea: Delia has some important plans for Patsy's birthday this year. :)

Oh my goodness I love this one! I hope you like this… again it quickly became very very long. So I’m putting it under the cut. 

Sorry for the cliffhanger, I’m planning on continuing this over on Ao3! 

Until then enjoy a sneak peak into Delia’s *sexy* plans for Patsy’s birthday ;) 

Delia knew that thisyear was an important birthday for Pats. It was the big 3-0 and she wanted todo something really special for the woman who was, in every way except legally,her wife. The Welshwoman was especially excited for the date this year becauseit was the first birthday celebration in their very own flat.

Whatthey had longed for and dreamed of for years had finally come to fruition acouple months after Patsy returned from Hong Kong. While she didn’t ever gointo specifics, Delia suspected that Jonathan, Patsy’s father, had left herwith quite a bit of cash and investments. But ever the gentlewoman, Patsyagreed to split the first flat fees 50/50. They found a cute little place a fewblocks away from Nonnatus so they weren’t far from their friends.

Knowingthat they had a safe place, a home, to go back to after any celebration forPatsy, that she could lock their door, draw the blinds, and put on a record inperfect privacy, made Delia begin to fantasize. Fantasize about certain sensitive things she never used to letherself think about. Things like kisses unhindered by fear, waltzes withoutquestion or even a breath of space between them, and bodies covered only by themoonlight.

Sheshivered at the mere thought. It wasn’t as if she and Patsy hadn’t beenintimate or done these things since moving in last month, they had but Deliacould tell that Patsy was still holding back. She seemed to be waiting for theother shoe to drop, so she still handled Delia delicately as if she was worriedthat their new-found happiness would shatter if she ever completely let go orgave in fully to her desires.

Deliaknew that there was something fierce resting just beneath the woman’s coolexterior. She had experienced it first hand when Patsy had so brazenly kissedher, in public and later on in Nonnatus, on the night she returned from HongKong. It took nearly two weeks for the love bites across her hips and thighs todisappear and for once she was thanking god for the length of her hideousnursing kit.

Soshe had made it her mission to help Pats feel safe, loved, and perhaps justexcited enough to finally let go completely, to fully embrace the love theyshared together.

Acquiringthe necessary supplies had been a bit of a challenge.

First,she had to save up going as far as breaking into her hidden emergency cash.Then she had to find a shop far enough away from Poplar so she wouldn’t benoticed by a patient or heaven forbid a nun. And lastly, she had to come upwith a cover story, to explain why she was shopping alone for something veryfew single women would admit to owning.

Theshop she settled on was tucked away on a busy street in Chelsea. It had anondescript storefront with lace curtains concealing their stock and just asmall sign that read “A Women’s Retailer.” (Delia had done a practice run aftergetting the name from the bartender’s girlfriend at Gateways.) The cover storywas actually easier than she expected and had the added benefit that she couldactually wear her engagement ring. It was a beautiful, small thing that oncebelonged to Patsy’s mother. On the long bus trip to across London, Delia gentlyremoved the ring from the long chain she typically wore it on and slipped it intoits rightful place.

Steppingoff the bus, Delia adjusted her outfit, the most posh one in her closet, whichshe had ironed just for the occasion. Gathering herself together with a deepbreath she walked purposely down the street as if she had done it every day.

           *Ding, ding* The small over-doorbell rang out as Delia stepped into the subtly perfumed shop. It was nearlyempty, apart from the shop attendant and a young woman with someone who lookedlike her older sister browsing near the dressing rooms in the rear. They alllooked up at the noise, catching Delia by surprise and leading to a bloomingflush across her face.

           “Hello dear, how can I help youtoday? Are you here for your wedding kit,” the attendant suggested nodding downto the glittering ring adorning Delia’s hand.

           “Oh yes, my maid of honor simplycouldn’t make the appointment but yes I’m here to try some things, for *ahem mywedding.” Delia rushed out, hoping her lies would be read as truths by thesweet looking older woman.

           “Of course my dear, I can help youselect something nice for the evening if you’d like. I know it can be a ratherdaunting task all by your lonesome.” The attendant happily offered. “My name isGloria, the proprietor of this little shop. Now tell me about this chap ofyours. Certainly must be a smart fellow, dare I say that ring perfectly matchesyour eyes.” Gloria said as she gently ushered Delia into the small shop.

           Beyond grateful for the help andthat her story was believed, Delia let herself relax and be led around theshop.

           “My chap, well he really is thesmartest person I know. Not all brains though, you wouldn’t quite believe thelovely stock of ginger hair he have or his eyes, their like looking out at theocean.” She had to be careful not to mix his with her but all at once it feltgreat to be almost normal, to talk about her love so openly, to gush as shealways wanted to about just how much she loves her Patsy.

           “Look at you! He must have done anawful good job at courting you for you to be so smitten. We rarely get someoneso love sick here, mostly nervous wives hoping to keep the spark. But clearlyyou and your fellow have that spark already. Did you have anything in mind foryour special night?”

           “Perhaps something teal or purple,he seems to really like that color on me.” Delia wanted to expand, to talkabout how Patsy was known to stare intently whenever she wore the color or howshe often told her that teal made her eyes seem impossibly more blue thanbefore. But she restrained herself. The less she said the safer.

           “Sure sweetheart, we might not havethat exact color in bustiers or panties but I’m sure I could find you a nicepurple slip to cover your set that’s maybe a nice, creamy white, it will beyour wedding night after all.” Gloria prattles on as she pulls more and moreoptions from around the shop. “Do go sit dear, I’ll bring you what I’ve pickedout and you just let me know what you think.”

           Slightly overwhelmed, Delia sat inone of the many chairs that filled the shop and waited anxiously to try on herfirst set of lingerie. She and Pats had never had the chance to properly celebratetheir new life together. Before the flat Delia never really thought to dress upfor the bedroom, it had always been such a hurried, cautious affair, so Deliahelped that this little extra piece would be just the thing to let Patsy relax.

           “I set you up in the dressing roomdear, just over here.” Gloria directed her to a curtained off portion at therear of the shop. “Now I picked out three different sets that I think wouldlook wonderful on you.”

           Stepping behind the curtain, Deliareached out to touch the silk material of the pieces. This would be the nicestset of under garments she had ever owned, Delia thought to herself. As shelooked over the lace, her eyes were drawn immediately to the beautiful creambustier, panties, and garter belt. It was paired perfectly a brilliant tealsilk and lace slip. This was it, she knew even before she tried it on.

           “You alright in their dear? Need anyhelp with the hooks? I know they can be a bit intimidating at first glance,”Gloria piped up through the curtain.

           “No. No, I’m quite alright justchoosing which to try on first, they are all so beautiful.” Quickly checkingher watch for the time she knew she’d better hurry if she was going to make ithome in time to meet Patsy for their Saturday dinner at Nonnatus.

           With relatively little trouble Deliatried on the cream set. It was surprisingly comfortable, Delia thought as sheblatantly admired herself in the full-length mirror, and it certainlyaccentuated her bust and hips more than anything she’d ever worn before. In aword it was perfect. Patsy would love it, sure Delia was positive she wouldlove her even if she decided to wear a potato sack but this would definitelymake an impression on her love.  

           “Did you make a decision? Or need asecond opinion?” Gloria asked, snapping Delia from her daydreams.

           “I think I did, I think he’ll lovethis one.” Pulling back the curtain slightly to allow Gloria to look at thefinished product.

           “Oh my, I do say, it would be hardfor any sane man to resist you in that my dear. Your chap is one lucky fellow,I hope he appreciates you love.”

           “He does and more.”

           Delia couldn’t wait to share thissurprise with Pats, she just hoped she wouldn’t kill the unsuspecting woman. IfPatsy ever wore anything like this for her, she’s not sure her heart could takeit.

           After a few minutes of changing,wrapping, and checking out Delia was once again out on the busy street. With askip in her step she headed back to Poplar to execute part two of Patsy’sbirthday surprise, the part she was most looking forward too.