#instead of dust beats up killer can we have killer whipped for dust. and NOT in a toxic way

[triglycercule]

killer looks so pathetic in this. it tickles my fancy,,,,,, like yessss dust you go man strike some unnerve into unnerve personified

[shycoconutt]

I Found My Light: Chapter 3 (Kakashi x Reader)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

A/n: Sorry for the delay! Wasn't sure where I wanted to go with this but it came to me in the shower (as all good ideas do). Hope you enjoy it! This story is far from over.

Summary: You attend the group training session where, to your dismay, Kakashi is in attendance.

Word Count: 1800

Warnings: fem!reader, SFW (but won't be in future chapters), violence, angst

Fanart!: Please check out this fanart inspired by this fic by the talented @szamasza <3

If this training session goes like any other typical training session, you are in for a long one. Training usually begins around mid-day and lasts several hours until everyone feels like they’re on the brink of death. Then, when face down in the dirt, Asuma tries to convince everyone to head to the bar on the main street that gives discounts to shinobi. After a few minutes of resounding I’m-too-tireds and maybe-next-times, everyone gives in and spends the remainder of the night into the next morning crammed in a booth getting absolutely sloshed.

This night was like any other night, except not because your anxiety was at an all-time high.

Kakashi showed up about an hour into training, aloof as ever. You were deep in your spar with Genma when you saw him out of the corner of your eye. Genma must have noticed your distraction, as he didn’t hesitate to spit his senbon at you with full force. Luckily you were refocused in less than a second and caught it between your fingers.

“Nice try, buddy,” you teased him, “It’s going to take more than that to throw me off.”

Genma raised his eyebrow at you. “I don’t know, (y/n), you seemed a little distracted,” he teased.

And just like that, you were back at each other’s throats.

Kakashi ended up finding a spot sparing Gai. Typical of him, as usually Gai is the only one who can keep up ability-wise. Although, Kakashi hasn’t seen how much you’ve grown and a part of you is hoping you’ll get a chance at him. You still have yet to use your chakra sword-whip, your most brutal weapon, in front of your fellow shinobi. It’s remained in its sheath strapped across your back, waiting to be used against the most brutal opponent.

“Alright, alright,” Genma pants, curled up on the ground holding his left side where you just landed a forceful kick, “Please show me some mercy, (y/n).”

“Only if you admit that I’m a better shinobi than you in every way,” you say smugly, crossing your arms across your chest.

“Yes, you are a better shinobi than me in every way. You're stealthy, quick, strong, intelligent, adaptable, beautiful, and, most of all, kind. Which is why you’ll give me my senbon back.” He pleas, still laying on the ground with his hand out to you.

“Mmm, fine,” you tease, pulling the senbon from your hair where you used it to hold it in a bun. “It does make a great hair accessory though. I think I might have to get one for myself.” You help Gemma back up to his feet and stick the metal needle back into his mouth.

He gives you a smirk, still grasping onto your hand. “You should see my collection. I have at least two hundred of these,” he boasts, taking the senbon out of his mouth to twirl it in his fingers. “I‘ll make sure to pick one out for you.”

“I would be honored.” You smile warmly, squeezing his hand.

At this moment you could sense a set of eyes staring at you from the other side of the training field. Well, one eye, you should say, as Kakashi is staring directly at you while he holds Gai in a headlock. His expression is unreadable as his eyes flicker from you to Genma and then back to you. You could swear that you saw his shoulders drop a bit before he brought his attention back to Gai who is currently struggling to breathe in his grasp.

“Ka-ka-shi-ple-ase-le-t-me-go-” Gai gasps, holding onto Kakashi’s arms currently wrapped around his neck. Kakashi’s eyes widen when his attention is brought back to his opponent and he immediately releases Gai from his grasp. With a thud, Gai drops to the floor and sucks in one big breath.

“Are you trying to kill him?!” Kurenai yells as she runs to tend to Gai who is sitting on the ground rubbing his neck. Everyone else on the field stops what they’re doing when they notice the commotion and circle around Gai wondering what happened.

“I’m sorry-” Kakashi starts, hands back in his pockets still staring at Gai wide-eyed.

“Apologies are unnecessary my rival!” Gai cuts in, still gasping for air. “Flashes of my youth came to me as I was falling out of consciousness. It reminded me how much there is to live for. I thank you for the near-death experience, Kakashi!” Gai quickly recovers and stands up, dusting the dirt from his green jumpsuit. “You win this round, but I wouldn’t get used to it!” Gai challenges, holding out a hand for Kakashi to shake.

“Yeah, sure Gai.” Kakashi agrees sheepishly, accepting Gai’s hand.

“Damn, Kakashi.” Genma starts, a smug smile pulling at his mouth. “The Anbu made you a pretty ruthless fighter, huh? I didn’t realize friend-killer Kakashi applied to us too.”

You could hear everyone in the circle try to hold in their gasps after registering Genma’s statement. Kakashi’s whole body stiffened and you could see the appearance of a grimace form under his mask. He is visibly uncomfortable. Yet, instead of looking at Genma who just addressed him, he is looking at you.

You suck in a breath, feeling terrible for Kakashi. Rumors spread, nicknames are formed, it’s all a part of being a shinobi. But “friend-killer Kakashi” is on a whole other level of petty.

That jerk.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Genma?” You turn to him and yell. “What makes you think you can say shit like that?”

“Oh c’mon!” Genma retorts. “We were all thinking it! This is the first time he’s been back training with us since the Anbu. You’ve heard what people have said about him. I’m surprised one of us isn’t already dead!”

This time no one was able to hold in their reactions as gasps escaped everyone in the circle.

You are fuming.

“Actually, Genma, the only one you should be worried about killing you is me because I am a second away from shoving that stupid senbon down your throat.” You take a step forward, challenging him.

“Hey, hey,” Genma retreats, taking a step back with his hands up in defense. “I was just trying to look out for us, for you especially. I mean out of all of us, you should be the most concerned. You know, with the whole situation that happened with Ri-”

You close the gap between you and Genma in seconds, grabbing the collar of his vest, you yank the senbon from his mouth and hold it against his throat.

“If you finish that sentence it will be the last words you ever speak.” You threaten. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. You have no idea the details of what Kakashi has been through. What Rin went through. What I went through. It isn’t your place to speak about a situation you know nothing of. So do us all a favor and shut up.” You let go of his vest and shove him back a couple steps.

“Wow, damn, okay, sorry.” Genma apologizes, a hint of annoyance in his voice. “I was just joking around. There’s no need to be so serious about it, (y/n).”

“My hand went through Rin’s heart,” Kakashi speaks up from his silence. “There’s nothing to joke about.”

Hearing Kakashi speak this hard truth sends a sharp pain through your heart, and you instinctively grasp onto the part of your shirt lying over your chest.

You turn and look back at Kakashi, who meets your eyes.

Pain.

So much pain.

You turn to step towards him, but he’s already retreating from the circle.

“I think that’s it for me today guys. I’ll catch you around another time.” Kakashi says as he turns away from the group giving you one last glance. Heading towards the forest, he reaches around to his pouch and pulls out his Icha Icha novel, bringing it in front of him to pick up where he left off.

After a few silent beats, Asuma claps his hands together to bring attention to him.

“So,” he starts, “drinks anyone?”

Everyone immediately becomes more relaxed now that the focus has shifted. You, on the other hand, are feeling so tense that you start to hear ringing in your ears. You get that Asuma is just trying to relieve the tension in the group, but you can’t help but be annoyed that he’s trying to move on from what just happened so quickly.

Kurenai meets your gaze and can read your annoyance. She gives you a pleading look that says drop it for now, (y/n).

Everyone in the circle, including Genma, give a resounding “yes” and head in the opposite direction of Kakashi back towards the village. You're left alone standing in the middle of the grounds as they make their way out.

“(Y/n), are you coming?” Kurenai calls out to you.

You contemplate for a second and begin to wave her off.

“I think I’m going to stay here for a minute. You guys go on ahead, I’ll meet up with you later,” you reply. Honestly, you have no intention of getting back together with them, as any place where Genma is hanging out is the last place you want to be.

“Okay,” Asuma shouts back at you, “we will be at that one bar on main.”

“As always.” you joke back, trying to sound light-hearted.

Once they are out of sight you turn to look back at the trees that Kakashi exited through. You have absolutely no idea where he could be headed to or how fast he could be traveling through the trees. It might be a waste of time to head out after him. After all, if Kakashi doesn’t want to be found, you have no chance of finding him.

Feeling slightly defeated, you plop down to the ground and sit criss-cross in the dirt. You sit up straight and put both of your hands palm-up on each knee. Taking a deep breath in, you feel the breeze rustle through your hair. Taking a deep breath out, you hear the sound of the trees flowing in the wind.

If he wants to talk, he will come to me. In the meantime, I will meditate.

The next time you open your eyes, it’s dark out.

Damn, how many hours have passed?

You close your eyes.

More time passes.

The next time you open your eyes, Kakashi is sitting a few feet across from you mirroring your position.

His eyes are open.

As if your thoughts are mirroring each other as well, you both speak in unison.

“I’m sorry.”

[saffron-nova21]

Whipped Cream: Iwaizumi's Bonus Scene

The Next Chapter Masterlist

< Previous Chapter • You Are Here • Next Chapter >

Warnings: Reader is a little flirty, Iwa-chan busts his lip, Kuroo is conniving, Strong language

Everyone had finished their meals about five minutes prior, now just working on finishing your drinks before the checks were brought out. And in this time, Kuroo had managed to get under your skin, as he was so well adept in. At this point, it was a game to him, to see how quickly he could get you to retaliate. He never went too far, mainly just making statements that he knew you would fight him on.

Laughter bubbles from Kuroo's lips as his eyes scan over you. "In what world? You might have played volleyball in high school, but you haven't lifted anything heavier than a couch cushion, since."

His words held some truth, though not as much as he thought. Though you weren't a health nut and you were out of practice, some of your closest friends were Bokuto, and by extension Hinata. You had been pretty adaptable with positions, in high school. Your brother was the Captain, your ex-boyfriend a middle blocker, and your former best friend a setter. Practicing with each of them, throughout your life had made you pretty talented.

In high school you'd had the opportunity to go to multiple of Japan's sponsored training camps. You'd never gone, but that was only because you had too much going on at home, at the time. You'd also been looked at by multiple universities for scholarships. At the end of the day, though, you chose the same path as your best friend.

You could still spike a volleyball with the best of them, if you did say so yourself. So, with narrowed, challenging eyes, you speak up. "You really think so? I hardly go outside and I'd still win a practice run against you, Tetsu."

Kenma shrugs, briefly looking up from his phone to eye you both, "I believe it. After all, Bokuto does drag them off to help he and Hinata practice a lot."

As his eyes travel back to his phone, you look from him back towards Kuroo. "Exactly, so suck my dick."

Kuroo, though, only seemed to grin. And his grin was one you were all too familiar with: he knew something you didn't.

"Great. So then you'll really be an asset to the volleyball team, being so skilled and all?"

Iwaizumi looks towards you with raised eyebrows, "You played in high school?"

"That's the only part of that conversation you decide to comment on?" Kuroo rolls his eyes, placing his head against his fist, his elbow resting on the table.

Holding up your right hand to Kuroo, you flash him the sweetest smile you can possibly muster, before raising your middle finger to flip him off. Though as you do, his hand shoots out to catch yours, a smirk stretching over his features as he catches your hand before you can withdraw it. "You asshole." You hiss as you try to pull your hand back, mistakenly pushing your body into Iwaizumi. Kuroo, however, just holds his grip on your wrist, until you end up attempting to put all of your weight into jerking your hand back. That's when he finally decided to let go, allowing your body to jerk into Iwaizumi's.

Iwaizumi, who'd been sipping on his hot chocolate, tried to prepare for things, though he wasn't as prepared as he might've wished as the mug hit his lower lip, not only busting it, but also smearing whipped cream along his top lip and nose. With a glare directed towards you, he attempted to reach across you for the napkins, but you beat him to it, "Thanks, Kuroo, my boss hates me now."

You then turn towards Iwaizumi with a hand full of napkins, grabbing his jaw to turn his head towards you so you could help him. But holy shit, how had you not noticed that jawline beforehand? Bringing your hand up, you begin to wipe the whipped cream from his face, while Kuroo flags someone down, between his cackles, to get some ice for them.

"You certainly cause a lot of trouble, don't you?" Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, trying to draw attention away from the fact that his cheeks had a slow-growing blush dusting them. "We split them up to prevent disaster, but you seem to be the source of most of it."

You turn up your nose, "And to think that I thought you were hot -"

"If anything, you find him hotter now. You've always had a thing for douchebags." Kenma flashes you a smirk, before returning his eyes to his phone.

You let out a quiet huff, face warming in embarrassment, "Kenma, I don't wanna hear it from you. You're just jealous because I'm paying more attention to Iwa, here." Sticking your tongue out at him, you pull the napkins away from his face, placing them on your empty plate. "There you go." Bringing your hand to his cheek, you pat it with amusement flitting across your features.

Iwaizumi only rolls his eyes at you, "You remind me a little too much of a friend of mine."

Everyone looks over as a waitress comes over with a few ice cubes in a cup, Iwaizumi thanking her as he takes the cup, before plucking an ice cube from it and wrapping it in a paper towel to place against his slightly-swollen lip.

"Speaking of your friends," the way your tone changes makes both Kenma and Kuroo collectively roll their eyes, knowing exactly what - or rather, who you're going to bring up. Though, you ignore them to continue your conversation with Iwaizumi, "You know Oikawa, right? Like personally?" A frown crosses his face as he raises an eyebrow, prompting you to continue. "I don't want anything. I'm not going to ask for his number, or some shit. I've got Bokuto and Hinata wrapped around my finger, if I'm looking for a volleyball player."

"Y/N, you can't just say things like that." Kuroo brings a hand up to massage his temple.

The Athletic Trainer blinks, "So, what are you asking for?"

Looking back up at him, you tilt your head, "Nothing, I just wanted to see if Kuroo was telling the truth. I can't even lie, though, I use to watch Seijoh's games, to see his service ace. It was fucking killer. Hell, he was the reason I taught myself how to do it. And I do pride myself on my jump-serves. I use to be able to do jump-floats, as well, but that's a little iffy, now, I'm not going to lie.

"Now that I think about it, Seijoh had some cute players. Especially when I was in... My second year of high-school, there was this number four. God, he was fucking amazing. I loved watching him play. Plus those biceps were to -... Kuroo, shut up, your laughter makes it so hard to concentrate." You stop to look at Kuroo, who is doubling over in laughter, while Kenma shakes his head at your misfortune.

"Y/N, do you know what team Iwaizumi used to play for?" Kenma looks at you with a ghost of a smile.

From there, you can piece things together, cringing a bit as you look back at Iwaizumi, "Would you believe me if I said that I meant... Number... Sixteen..?"

Iwaizumi lets an amused smirk grace his lips as he looks at you, "That's cute. Good to know that you actually have some taste. I nearly lost faith with your adoration for Loserkawa." He brings his mug back to his lips, fingers grasping your wrist so he can tug your hand away from where it was holding ice on his lip, proceeding to finish off what was left in his mug, obviously getting ready to leave.

You didn't respond, instead looking at his upper lip, where whipped cream rested. You were so used to the comfort you had between you and your close friends, like Kenma and Kuroo, that you didn't hesitate to just reach out and wipe the excess away, Reaching out, you place your fingers on his cheek to steady your hand, while your thumb swipes across his upper lip, movements fleeting, before you withdraw your hand. It isn't until you're wiping your thumb on the napkins that you realize what you did, face and neck warming in embarrassment. Though, you weren't the only one, as the porcupine-haired man brought a hand up to attempt to hid his flushed cheeks.

"I've got to... Uh- Get the boys some stretches for their day off. See you on Monday," he excuses himself to stand, retrieving his ticket so he'd be able to pay at the front of the restaurant.

"See you on Monday, Iwa," your cooed words make Iwaizumi flush a bit darker, mumbling something under his breath before bidding you all goodbye as he attempts to rush out, in embarrassment.

With a sheepish look directed towards Kuroo and Kenma, the two watch you in amusement. "Whoops," you rub the back of your neck with a sheepish grin crossing your lips.

Iwaizumi was friends with Oikawa for years, so while he did get use to some of the near flirty teasing from his best friend and learn how to counteract it, sometimes his is caught off guard.

You found out about Oikawa and Seijoh's team, after seeing him in a magazine. (And yes, you do see more about this, later.)

You also rooted for them to make it to Nationals so that you could plays against them.

I'm really sorry guys, the past few days have been chaos, but there will be two more parts coming your way to make up for it, tonight and tomorrow. I hope you're all doing well. You all most definitely better be taking care of yourselves. I'm rooting for you and I'm proud of you. Remember to eat and drink some water, and get some rest. You deserve it.

General Taglist:

@kookie-doughs @halesandy @ermahgerd-larry-and-ziam @its-the-aerieljeane @onlyonew @kac-chowsballs @saltylettuce @thathoneybee3 @daninaninani @akkeyomi @vintagexparker

The Next Chapter Taglist:

@bnha-meme-sanctuary @nachotrash @haijkk @maadaaaa @prettyinblack231 @sakusasimpbot @kellesvt @bebetiny @ash-levi @calumsfringe @z3ld4 @erinoikawa @bandaged-despair @chaseyui @atria-avior @just-that-bi-girl @magical-fandoms @one-simp-more

[anangelicday-mrwolf]

Wolfsbane : Noblesse Fanfic  (post-ending)

(previous chapter)

Chapter 51 – Nightmare Walking

Hair originally flaunting glamorous gold now stricken dark purple.

Bare torso marred with purple just as dark.

Atmosphere oh-so-ferocious, ridding the bystanders of any desire to approach, the operative part being the fact that it is from someone who is merely standing with his back visible.

And the building completely tattered into crumbles, an influential addition that renders the entire scene as intimidating as it can be.

Nobody would have stayed standing upon the immediate sight of the isle.

But it was Lunark who was at the scene.

“Frankenstein!”

Her voice even hinted elation as she lunged forward, screeching her sweetheart’s name.

She had been steeling herself for the worst-case scenario – Frankenstein’s death via 3rd Elder’s hand – throughout her marine marathon.

And here she was, confirming how he was at least on his feet, a reason legitimate enough for her to place her emotions above her logics that were suggesting she should first get a picture of what happened here.

Despite her ardent glee that matched that of a wife welcoming a husband back from the war, her body halted when her audience turned around.

There was still a distance between them, but the smile that had bloomed across her countenance froze in awkward distortion.

Her facial muscles were reformed in a violent speed when the lean figure wholly faced her, into those that someone would wear upon running into their parents’ killer.

“...What are you? Don’t even think about playing tricks with your tongue. You’re not Frankenstein. I can tell that you’re not.”

The man looked no different from the time when 1st Elder and 3rd Elder invaded werewolf realm. And from the time when she had met Frankenstein for very first time.

He looked exactly what he looks like whenever he deliberately forfeits the control over the Dark Spear.

Nevertheless, Lunark noticed something has changed, for a reason she could not define herself, the closest excuse being an instinct that would allow a mother bird to recognize her offspring among thousands of fluffy chicks.

With all circumstances put behind, Lunark did not hesitate to sharpen her eyes and lips with belligerence.

“What have you done to Frankenstein?”

That was when her party ended the long silence.

“We did nothing. He brought this on himself.”

We?

Just as I’d thought, the Dark Spear took over his body.

That was one mystery gone, but to Lunark it was simply checking the answer she had on her mind as correct. In other words, the weight in her chest has not been lifted at all.

In fact, the Dark Spear’s claim that Frankenstein was to blame for this added fuel to the concern blazing within her.

“What are you talking about? There’s no way Frankenstein would let this happen.”

“We are just as clueless of the exact reason why. Frankenstein chugged this tonic he’d have more often than water, just like a drug addict doing drug. And this is how things ended up.”

Lunark realized what was the tonic the Dark Spear was mentioning; it must be what Frankenstein had in his silver flask, which she witnessed upon her first visit to this island.

“Not convincing. Frankenstein is more thorough than any other creature I know, especially when it comes to research. He will never make any mistake in managing his own invention. What did you do to him?”

“We can’t deny that we have lots of problem with this world and this guy in particular, but we never lie. When Frankenstein returned from your domain, he briefly talked to that 3rd Elder guy, before he downed the whole cup of the tonic he made in his lab in advance.”

Upon mention of 3rd Elder, Lunark momentarily minced her lips, her rage reminding her that it was still there.

“And then he complained of mind-numbing vertigo, until he fell unconscious like a TV unplugged. At the same time, the iron-hard control he has been maintaining at last broke down.”

From Dark Spear’s mouth slipped a low snicker.

Lunark was now familiar with Frankenstein’s unique devilish laughter, but she has never heard such unpleasant, loathsome laugh.

She felt as if she were witnessing the declaration of war from a devil – no, from disaster itself.

“We have no idea how, but both his body and mind fell into slumber! And now we have full control of his flesh and bones!”

The Dark Spear raised Frankenstein’s head high, and maniacal cackle erupted from his throat; and it raised Frankenstein’s arms and looked around as if showing off what it had done.

“And as you can see, we were free to experiment what we can do. Although we couldn’t get a chance to gain experience from Frankenstein’s roommate. How unfortunate. Perhaps he foresaw that something wicked is coming his way; by the time we could walk around on our own, he was nowhere to be seen.”

At then Lunark’s stony face was struck by thousand chasms.

‘I knew it – he’s behind all this. And he scrammed after flinging a lit match into a barrel of gasoline. I will so not let him get away with this!’

To Lunark’s grimace, she was not given time to plot exactly how she can best beat the guts out of him.

The Dark Spear pointed its hideous crimson eyes, which used to be the most beautiful topaz blue in the world, at the werewolf warrior.

“But look what we have here – a new lab rat that visited on its own feet to substitute him!”

Lunark’s jaw muscles thundered with strain as soon as she processed how things were going.

By now she was supposed to race across the ocean in search of 3rd Elder; alas, she knew there was no way she could walk away from this scene. Instantly she stiffened from head to toe, to go ahead and step backwards.

The Dark Spear crooked the either side of its lips at her response.

“Speaking of which, it’s such a shame that Frankenstein fell in death-like slumber. We’ll miss our chance to make him watch how he will crush his lady by his own hands.”

Lunark happened to be calculating and measuring every option available to break free from her immediate position, hopefully escape unscathed, but Dark Spear’s statement made her brain freeze.

“...What are you saying?”

Asked Lunark in a flustered, desperate, pleading voice, something that should not be pulled out as of now.

Her heart decided to be selfish and outrun her logics.

“Oh? So you had no idea that this guy had feelings for you. Ugh, that reminds us of all those goosebumps we had to suffer. You can’t imagine how much agony and anguish he had assigned himself, weighing for millions of times his affection for you against his duty-slash-standing. And he just had to be a drama queen in the meantime; we were beyond cringed to observe him.”

The enlightenment, thanks to the courtesy of Dark Spear, hit Lunark’s head hard, already half-ridden of its functions, like a lash of a whip upon a skinned body.

‘Frankenstein has feelings for me...?’

Several centuries ago, during a pleasant afternoon outing as a child, her mother discussed how she got to be mates with her daughter’s father.

And she told Lunark that to feel love was to feel how the color of blood paints the heart, of which its color in turn paints one’s vision, which ultimately dyes the world.

Back then Lunark, being an innocent little girl she was, retorted if that means love would make her see the world in red, after the color of her own blood.

Her mother roared with laughter and told her that one day she will understand.

And right now, with her life in undeniable jeopardy, Lunark finally understood what her mother meant.

Her blood and heart and vision were bathed white, like crystal-colored feathers, magically glossing the after-war-like scene into snow white.

Sadly, her ecstasy did not long due to what was about to unfold.

“Anyhow, now it’s time to see how much of despair we can give to a living!”

The Dark Spear spread its palm out wide in a swaggering manner, towards Lunark.

Registering what will promptly follow, Lunark kicked off without thinking.

Bam!!!

Splinters of rocks and dust flew about from the spot Lunark was posted to a mere second ago.

The Dark Spear flung dark purple balls of energy towards the werewolf warrior scurrying here and there in evasion, and each and every last one of Lunark’s teeth ground brutally.

Not long after, Lunark emitted enraged shriek and attempted a counterattack.

“Give him back right now, you bastard!”

Lunark’s fist speared through the air, precisely towards where she wanted.

She had yet to shift into battle form, but she was a werewolf. A race with no superior when it comes to physical strength, and she even came with a proud title of a warrior.

Just when her punch was to do what it was supposed to do, Frankenstein’s eyes were cleared of blood-red haze, to instead pay Lunark a blue gaze buried beneath.

It was too brief to be dubbed a split second, but Lunark’s movement automatically ceased.

And hesitation on a battlefield is bound to end as a fatal error.

“Aaargh!!!”

Dozens of hellish darkness and sharpness pierced through Lunark’s every corporal plane and curve.

She was basically a breathing insect specimen, made immobile in midst of a forest of dark purple spears, too packed to shove even a hand.

“Now this is beyond our expectations.”

The Dark Spear sniggered, swinging the arm it just used to land ruthless blows upon Lunark.

She glared murder at the Dark Spear, as she felt sinister energy spreading throughout her shape through her wounds.

“No need to give us that look. We won’t kill you right now. We had thought of killing Frankenstein’s beloved right on spot, but... Change of plan. We have a better idea.”

Lunark’s heart, captured by anxiety, thumped skittishly within her ribs.

“We’ll be heading to Lukedonia.”

“...What?”

“Frankenstein does have a lot of people he cares for, you included, but his top priority is the Noblesse. Which is not surprising. His greatest fear would be to commit anything that could topple the peace of the Noblesse’s heart. So we would be able to stomp his heart for good if we wreak havoc at the Noblesse’s homeland. After all, physical pain can’t be any more meaningless for him.”

Lunark’s pupils quivered in frenzy, at the sight of an animosity claiming how it will run straight to Lukedonia right now.

“Now excuse us. We have a long way to go. Oh, and it’d be wise not to try anything to get yourself out of there. Thanks to Crombel and pieces of Blood Stone he used to own, our power has more than tripled!”

Leaving behind a sickening smirk, voluptuously sized cloud of dust, and a boom of impact, the slender human frame was gone.

“G-get back here, you...!”

Lunark yelled in alarm; she squirmed in gut reaction, to very soon grunt in pain.

Where she was impaled by dark purple javelins began to release much darker aura.

Of course, she could muster her powers in a flash to destroy all the spears and begin her pursuit.

‘But the Dark Spear is equipped with power that works against healing power, with our endowment of healing power no exception. And the natural-born destructive tendency given to Blood Stone would not leave me unharmed. Which means I’d get to start this battle with a handicap.’

So what?

Are you going to just give up?

It took less than a second for her inner voice to reprimand her, because of which the tremor of her lips was gone.

‘Of course not.’

Lunark shut her eyes for a moment, and the next moment her pink pupils conveyed nothing but determination.

‘Just you wait, Frankenstein. I will save you. Now I know how you feel about me, and though my lord told me to get over you... I’m more generous than you’d think. Generous enough to save my secret admirer’s butt.’

The grey-haired werewolf gnashed her teeth, and her vessels began to thud with resolute pulse.

And then Lunark howled, her hair dispersing with passionate battle spirit, and silver-white pillar of light ejected itself towards heaven.

(next chapter)

Well, there’s one good thing that Dark Spear has done for Frankie and Lunark - it testified that Frankenstein has feelings for Lunark XD. Now that the battles are about to unfold, I will be going back and forth between different places as I make progress with my fic. I’ll do my best to make sure there won’t be any confusion or misunderstanding as you read the future chapters. Hope you’d stay tuned for more!

[dreamwatchpro-wrestling]

Dreamwatch Round Robin Tournament Night Three (Match 9)

Round Robin Tournament Match: Masato vs Yamato Ryukawa (Click here to watch!)

Our main event! This match truly cemented to me that this was the best Dreamwatch show match quality wise up to this point. There have been some phenomenal matches on this card. McLaren making a big statement and knocking out the biggest dog in the yard, Hayato standing defiantly against an overwhelming opponent and pulling out the win to fulfill a promise, Takaya Kiryu panicked and unhinged wrestling a bear. Now, we come to this masterpiece. Our main event of the evening to determine the winner of the A block.

This match starts pretty calmly enough, both men feeling each other out and trying to gain some sort of advantage. Initially it seems like Masato would be the one to come out of this leg of the match on top right until Ryukawa lands a scoop slam and a low dropkick on Masato’s knee in the corner. Masato, undeterred, would deliver the first crucial shot of this match: A headbutt that busts Ryukawa open.

Masato has one of the best headbutts in the game, and this single moment shows why, Masato dealing devastating damage two minutes in. Things weren’t immediately hopeless for Ryukawa, though. Ryukawa was so close to the final and couldn’t be deterred by a headbutt or a crimson mask, Ryukawa responded quickly with a European Uppercut and a Scorpion Deathlock, still raring to go! That’s when Masato delivered another crucial blow in this match: a Tiger Driver, less than three minutes into the match!

Masato was in rare form tonight with an extremely impressive showing against Yamato Ryukawa so far! It seems like Masato knew that it would be tough to establish early control on Ryukawa so he altered his early game plan slightly to make sure he would take control of the match early, as Masato is known to always want to do in his matches. Instead of going for his more submission based control, Masato mixed up his strategy a little by targeting the wound on Ryukawa’s forehead.

Ryukawa was not willing to let this go unanswered. He needed to at least slow Masato down from this onslaught. He remembered the leg he dropkicked earlier in the match and saw an opportunity, going for a dragon screw into a figure four to try and do some lasting damage to his opponent.

This offense was a short lived flash, though, as Masato took control again the same way he did the last time Ryukawa worked his leg: A headbutt. Then another, and then another. Three headbutts to the wound on Ryukawa’s head immediately put Masato back in the driver’s seat. He followed this up by grinding the head of Ryukawa onto the top rope.

At this point Masato was only pushing his lead, strengthening his advantage against Ryukawa. He threw Ryukawa to the outside, and that’s when fortunes changed pretty Drastically. Ryukawa landing a brutal Fisherman Buster on the outside followed by his finisher, a Twisting Complete Shot. At this point both men had taken significant damage, but the match wasn’t over. They both had some shaking off to do if they wanted to stay alive in this thing. Ryukawa didn’t push his lead after landing that move on the outside, instead looking for a count out victory that Masato had enough gas in the tank to stop.

Back in the ring, both men were slower, but Masato had more adrenaline in his system and was able to knock the wind out of Ryukawa’s sails with a spear. He was slower to follow up his moves, but he still managed to keep the pressure on with strikes and submissions until he beckoned Ryukawa to try to trade strikes with him. After suckering him in, Masato hit Ryukawa with a hard dropkick, but Ryukawa showed signs of life and answered with his own dropkick, immediately locking in the figure 4 again afterward. Again Ryukawa could not string any more offense, only able to keep himself alive for a little longer in the match before Masato got back in control again. Masato was slipping though. He was losing his lead and he knew it. He needed something big. He put Ryukawa on the top rope looking for a top rope maneuver, but Ryukawa managed to rake Masato’s eyes! Masato tumbled hard back onto the mat and Ryukawa took this opportunity to land a huge moonsault for a two count! Even more impressive, Masato sprung back up to keep Ryukawa down on the mat by jumping on top of him and locking in a double wristlock. Ryukawa was gaining on him.

With all of this Ryukawa still couldn’t take over the match. Masato fired back. DDT, Spear, Double Wristlock, Saito Suplex, all in a row. Masato tried to irish whip Ryukawa into the corner, who reversed and hit a beautiful spinning heel kick. Ryukawa showing signs of life again. Finally it felt like Ryukawa had caught up to his opponent, finally able to take control and land a string of offense. It was starting to pay off. Masato would keep up his offense but Ryukawa started to interrupt and counter more and more. Masato needed more time to catch his breath after his offense. The match became close as tension filled Yurakuen Hall. Ryukawa suddenly landed a huge Sternness dust followed by a sliding dropkick. Masato was officially in danger. Ryukawa attempted to pick up Masato, but was met by a well placed kick to the face from the tired Deathmatch Duke. Masato was still willing to fight and mustered the strength to get up and run through Ryukawa with a spear. This match was close to over and Masato was back in control. He saw an opening and went for it!

And out of nowhere Ryukawa hit another Twisting Complete Shot! This was his last shot! It was time to make something happen!

Ryukawa takes the victory in an absolutely incredible match!

Ryukawa makes his way to the back, battered and exhausted. He’s kind of stunned at how tough an opponent Masato is. He doesn’t care what anyone says, Masato can’t be written off anymore as a smaller guy or a deathmatch guy after that performance. Ryukawa is sure without a shadow of a doubt that that was his best and toughest match to date. He wouldn’t have felt right ascending to the top without beating the only guy to get a pinfall on him in Dreamwatch so far, and now that he has he feels prepared for anything. He laughs and says that in the future when he gets hit in the ring he’ll always be able to think back to the ass-kicking he got in this match and he’ll think to himself “This isn’t that bad.” He’s got a cut on his head now, though, and he knows that McLaren has a killer jumping knee so he isn’t quite out of the woods yet but that’s fine. He had a perfect score in the tournament block for a reason, his body is unbreakable and his spirit is undeniable. McLaren better get his ass in fighting shape. Ryukawa is gonna shine the brightest and ascend to the top! Time to reach the stars and beyond!

Masato winces in pain and takes a deep breath. He was so close, so close to having a perfect run in the block. Masato isn’t able to say much after that before being interrupted by Hayato who is ecstatic. Hayato showers his partner with praise, raving about how good he was out there, causing Masato to smirk and cover his face with one hand. He comments that Masato almost had a perfect score in the block before Masato interrupts him, saying that he already said that, and that Hayato is embarrassing him. Its Masato’s interview, you know, but he thanks Hayato regardless and tells Hayato to let him rest his body on his partner. Masato continues the interview, his head on Hayato’s shoulder, saying its kind of cool that they managed to do equally well in the tournament. Their triumphs and somehow even their struggles are perfectly in sync with each other, which gives Masato even more confidence in the duo as a team. Hayato nods in agreement. A reporter comments to ask Masato what they think of the new belts. The duo are confused before being informed that there are tag belts announced for Dreamwatch! Hayato ecstatically yells “finally!” his shoulders jumping, bumping his partners head. Hayato apologizes and lays Masato’s head back down on his shoulder. Masato feels like this tournament has lit a fire under the both of them, and now he feels like everyone knows that the strength of their bond isn’t just for show, it isn’t just to be cute. Its real, and now they get to take their strength, finally, into a tag division. Hayato comments that he feels like celebrating despite the fact that neither of them made it to the finals. Masato says they’ll celebrate in advance since he knows they’re gonna win those tag belts before commenting that he’s starting to sound like his partner. Hayato says they should head out, but Masato comments that it feels like Ryukawa put a bomb on his legs and he isn’t sure if he can walk. Hayato gets it, hoists Masato onto his back, and the two head out.

[thenovelartist]

Kitty’s Key, set 4

<Previous  Next> 10. Victorian AU

“What are you making there, princess?”

Marinette sighed. “Remind me, why do I still let you in my room if the contest has been over for two weeks now?”

He smirked at her from his place lounging on the chaise. “Because you love me.”

“Love is a strong word, Chat.”

“Well, that’s the only explanation you leave your hatch open.”

He had her there.

“So, what are you making?”

“A costume piece,” Marinette said. “There’s an online contest hosted by a big-name theater director and so I entered. It was open to everyone, but there were different categories. I’m in the student category.”

“You should have gone for the professional.”

“No, I couldn’t do that.”

“Yeah, you could have,” Chat said, “But too late now, I guess. Anyway, you still haven’t answered what that pretty pink thing is on your mannequin.”

She sighed. “It’s a Victorian Era dress.”

“Oh?”

“For a princess.”

Chat smirked. “So, does it get to be worn by a princess?”

“What do you think?” she deadpanned.

“So you’re not gonna wear it?”

Wide-eyed, she stared at him. His smirk widened as he waggled his eyebrows. “You’d look stunning in it, princess.”

At that, Marinette blushed red and turned her back to him. “Stupid cat.”

He chuckled. “By the way, princess,” he purred. “You never did tell me why you didn’t confess to prince charming.”

Marinette froze.

“Because I heard from him that the date went really well,” Chat pressed.

“It did,” she admitted. That was the truth. She didn’t stutter too much and managed to keep her composure most of the night. Adrien looked as handsome as ever. And she was going to confess.

Until he dropped a cat pun.

He looked at her with this dorky grin and she knew… knew her heart was no longer settled on him. It was torn between him,

And a stupid superhero in black leather.

 11. Mask Ball

For the life of him, he was determined to get the answer. She’d shut him down time and time again and now Adrien had had enough. He was going to find out once and for all why Marinette never admitted her crush.

“Chat,” she whined, looking at him from her skylight. “It’s late.”

“It’s nine. Tell me you aren’t usually up way later than that.”

She just glared at him.

“So,” he said. “I have a proposition.”

“A proposition?” she deadpanned.

“Yup,” he said with a smirk. “You are going to put on that dress you’ve been working on for the past week. And then I’m going to take you out dancing.”

She did not look amused.

Which… he expected, if he was honest. “And what I’m going to do is take pictures of you to submit—”

“No,” she quickly said. “It looks fine on the mannequin.”

“But mannequins don’t show how things move,” he argued.

She opened her mouth to argue but slowly shut it.

“Come on, princess,” he said, knowing he was close to winning.

She stared at him a moment longer. “It’s nighttime.”

“I know a place with killer lighting.”

“At nighttime,” she asked, skeptically.

“Yup.” It wasn’t like he’d just spent the last hour hauling mass amounts of lighting equipment up to an empty rooftop.

She pursed her lips.

His grin widened.

“If you’re lying,” she said. “I am never letting you in again.”

“Good thing I’m not lying.”

With a sigh, Marinette began ducking back down to her room. “No peeking!” she warned, right before the hatch slammed shut.

He would say he wouldn’t dream of it…

But…

He’d fallen for a really beautiful woman. Maybe one day he wouldn’t demand such self-control. You know, after rings and vows were exchanged.

Would she be okay if he wore a white suit? Maybe at a beach wedding? He loved the thought of a beach wedding. Sometime in the summer. She was probably more of a spring bride, but would she be okay with a summer wedding? And if he could convince her to have it at the beach, he’d definitely want to wear a white suit. Because he loved black and could pull it off, but there was something about a white suit—

“Okay.”

Chat startled at her voice and turned around—

Only for all the air to leave his lungs.

She shrugged, a dusting of pink covering her cheeks. “I… need help lacing up the back.”

He cleared his throat, hoping his ability to speak returned. “Of course, Marinette.”

He was going to die. A woman with a cute little blush was not allowed to ask him to lace up the back of a soft pink dress that highlighted her skin tone perfectly and expect Chat to survive. But, he was a professional. He could swallow his discomfort.

Of course, all the skin at her neckline being exposed as it was made things really difficult. Why? Because he really wanted to put his lips to her perfectly soft skin right at the junction of her neck and shoulder.

Why now? All of a sudden.

His guess was as good as any.

Mind barely functioning, he was able to pull the laces tight to her form, one that seemed smaller than usual. “Done.”

She took a step to reach the gloves he didn’t remember her setting on her patio chair, then slid them up her arms to just past her elbows. Now, clothed in the full ensemble, she spun for him. “Well, what do you think?”

He thought he was going to keel over any second because hot damn, Marinette could pull off Victorian Era well. But he just couldn’t help but notice the way her waist was cinched in, and the way her breasts were rounded above the lower neckline of the dress … “You’re in a corset, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she sighed, tossing her head up to the sky in irritation. “And it’s not comfortable but it’s period accurate. How could you tell?”

He would take that reason to his grave. “Just a guess. Now, are you ready princess?”

She opened her mouth, but then snapped it shut as her eyes got wide. “No,” she whined. “I forgot the mask.”

“You made a mask?”

She nodded. “And it’s on my desk, but do you know how hard it is to move around in this thing?”

“I got it,” Chat said with a smile. “Be back up in a second.”

He slipped down into her room without any struggle and easily found the mask she was talking about. One that was as pink as her dress decorated with a ribbon and large, white feather.

However, considering he didn’t sneeze once on the way back up to her, it had to be synthetic. Thankfully.

When he got back up to the balcony, she wasn’t paying attention and instead looking out into the Parisian night. So, he decided to surprise her, coming up behind her and putting the mask over her eyes.

She gasped but quickly settled, letting him tie the mask off behind her head. “Is that too tight?”

“No,” she said, her voice whispery.

“Then, shall we go, princess?”

She gave him a smile that was going to knock him to his knees if he wasn’t careful. She looked like she was about to walk into a masquerade, and he wanted nothing more than to be the one escorting her. “We shall.”

…

Chat had an entire studio set up for her.

“How the heck did you get all this up here? No. How did you get any of this, period? This is high quality stuff.”

“My secret, princess.” With that, he pulled up a camera and snapped a photo before she was ready. “However,” he said, lowering the camera to reveal a smug smirk, “I’d happily divulge if a certain someone tells me why she didn’t confess to Adrien.”

She frowned, her cheeks heating up.

He smirked. “A secret for a secret,” he sang-songed before taking another picture of her.

“Chat, let me, like, pose or something.”

“Ah, but I’m here to capture your candid beauty,” he purred.

She snorted. “Stop it!”

“Never!”

It took a while for them to calm down and become serious, but eventually, Chat began actually posing her.

“Now, look in that direction, and stand confidently. Channel your inner Ladybug.”

She couldn’t keep the smile off her face. Oh, if he only knew. “My inner Ladybug?”

“Exude confidence, Ma Minette.”

She whipped her head back towards him, her heart full out missing a beat at the nickname. “T-that’s new,” she stuttered.

Chat looked like that cat that got the cream. “I like it. I’m using it.”

She really didn’t know how to respond.

Eventually, Chat claimed he had enough pictures. “We’ll put them on your computer and you can see how much you like them all.”

“Hopefully, you’re half as good a photographer as you are a director.”

“Trust me, Ma Minette,” he said with a wink and making her heart miss another beat. “I know my way around a camera.”

She shook her head. “Well, it was all very kind of you, Chat. Do you need any help cleaning up?”

“Oh? You think the night is over?”

Marinette quirked her head at that. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t think I’m going to let you go without dancing with you, do you? You look like you could be the belle of a ball. I’ve already stolen you away and can do what I want with you. And I want a dance.”

Be still her heart. What on earth happened to her dork of a partner because there was a very suave young man in skin-tight black leather standing before her, words as sweet as honey falling off his tongue. “W-well,” she stuttered. “I… I suppose you can have once dance.”

His smile was wide and sweet and happy. Oh, so happy. She loved that grin and the soft look in his eyes that joy caused. “One is all I ask for.”

 12. Post-Reveal (actually, more of a ‘Reveal’ instead of ‘Post-Reveal, but you guys aren’t gonna complain. XD)

There was soft music playing from a speaker he’d brought with him. He’d selected the song carefully, having mulled it over all day. Now, she was in his arms, swaying to the slow melody.

He had to assure her that they didn’t have to waltz. She’d been adamant on her inability to dance even though he knew it was a lie. However, he much preferred the closeness of simply being together, swaying to the music.

She’d taken off her mask halfway through the photoshoot, allowing him now to see her face clearly. Once again, he was struck by just how beautiful of a woman she was, and how lucky he was that she was in love with him.

“Are you ever going to tell me why you never told Adrien you had a crush on him?”

She groaned. “Why are you so persistent?”

“Because you had the perfect opportunity to tell the love of your life that you had a crush on him, but you didn’t. Why? I’m very confused. I set it up for you and everything.”

She sighed, remaining silent for several notes before speaking. “I was scared.”

“You chickened out? Really?”

“Yes… and no,” she said. “Not… like that.”

“You are making no sense,” he said, feeling more lost than ever.

“It doesn’t make sense to me either,” she whined. “Because I love Adrien. He’s just… so amazing. But when he—” She abruptly stopped.

Chat stopped dancing, taking a step back so he could see her face. Her lip was between her teeth and she looked downright embarrassed.

“But then,” she continued. “I was reminded of… of another guy. One I swore I wouldn’t fall for… and… I don’t know. Kinda… fell for a little anyway.”

Adrien’s heart clenched. What was his luck that he had to fall for two girls who were in love with other men better than him? He pretended his heart wasn’t being crushed into pieces. “And… you didn’t tell Adrien… because there’s another guy.”

She looked at him, her eyes locking on his. Next thing he knew, she was tearing up.

“Princess.” He quickly pulled her into his arms, cocooning her against his chest and rubbing her back. “Don’t cry.”

“I’m so confused,” she said between the tears.

He was, too. Mostly because he was struggling to weed through what the selfish part of him wanted to say and what the logical thing to say was. “It’s okay,” he said. “It’s okay, Marinette.”

“No, it’s not,” she whined.

He sighed but continued rubbing her back while she choked out a few tears.

“Listen,” he said, once she’d stopped crying and he’d had a moment to collect his thoughts. “I know it’s hard, but you should make a choice and go for it. It sounds like this new guy caught you off guard.”

“He did,” she said. “We were supposed to be just friends.”

“But you fell for him anyway?”

She nodded against his shoulder. “And the worst part,” she continued, “is that I know he loves me. He’s said so for years, and I’ve just kept brushing him off because we’re friends and that’s all, and now I have the chance to be with the guy I’ve crushed on for years, and I can’t help it but think of him.”

Well, crap. Adrien really didn’t stand a chance now, did he?

“Then you should go to that guy,” Chat said, even though his heart was breaking up at the prospect of loosing both girls he’d ever fallen for. What crappy luck. “And tell him. From the sounds of it, if he’d been confessing for a while, the guy will probably fly to the moon and back on happiness.”

She sniffed, wiping her eyes and smearing the little make-up she had on. “I’m nervous to, though.”

“Why?” Chat challenged. “You have a guy who you know loves you and won’t reject you waiting for you to return his affections. All you have to do is say ‘hey, I actually like you, too’ and boom! Done. Easy as cake. You don’t have to face any rejection like you would have with Adrien with you sticking your neck out on the line. He did the hard part, and now you just have to press the big, fat ‘accept’ button and you’re golden. You’re the luckiest fricking girl on the planet.”

She looked up at him, her eyes shining with something.

And that was the moment he realized he was getting a little too passionate. He took a breath to steady himself. “Sorry,” he said. “Maybe I… was—”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “It… it sounds like… like I hit a nerve with that.”

He took a breath. “Maybe a little,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

She wrapped her arms up over his shoulders. “Don’t be,” she assured. “You have every right to be angry about that.”

“No, I don’t,” he said. “As much as I want to. She has the right to fall in love with who she wants to. And if she doesn’t want me… then honestly good for her.”

Her grip tightened. “Why do you say that?”

“Because I’m obviously an unlucky cat,” he said. “I trust that she would find a fantastic guy, and if she sees him more as marriage material than me, then good for her.”

“That’s not true, mon minou, don’t you dare—”

And that’s when each of them froze. Marinette went rigid in his arms, but Chat…

Chat’s heart was racing a mile a minute.

No. No way. No. It’s coincidence she called me Mon Minou. No. She can’t be. I’m not that lucky. I’m not…

“My Lady?”

[perditaalottachocolate-blog]

Spring Fever (17)

@adrinetteapril 2019 story

Chapter: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | art | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | art |  art  | 18 | 19 | 20 |

AO3 / fanfiction.net

A huge thank you to @goblin-alchemist for betareading this story! And thank you all for reading, liking, reblogging and for the comments. You make me very happy! <3

***

Chapter 17. Nightmare

In which Adrien is amazed

If Adrien had known her plan was to confront Nemesis and get attacked, he would never have agreed. This was by far the bravest and most reckless thing he’d seen Marinette attempt. Without batting an eyelash, with her chin high up, she faced the villain. The scene would feed Adrien's nightmares for years. His blood ran cold as he watched the love of his life challenging Nemesis.

'If you’re so sure I’m trying to use Adrien, why don’t you check it yourself?’ Marinette inquired. 'Is that because you’re afraid I’m telling the truth?’

'You’re not telling the truth,’ the villain shrugged, malicious grin on her marble face. 'See, I’ve been in this business all my life. I’ve seen it happening tens of times, I’ve heard of hundreds more. I know how it works.’

'You don’t know me.’

'Please, have you looked at yourself?’ Nemesis snorted out a laugh. 'What do you have that I don’t? What a girl like you could possibly offer to someone like Adrien?’

Marinette seemed to consider this for a moment. 'Talent?’ She offered. 'Honest friendship? Genuine affection? Baked goods? A killer partner in video games?’

Adrien saw a shadow of a smirk dancing on her lips. He couldn’t help but to think he liked this side of her very much and he wished he’d see it more often. Or maybe he just had a thing for strong women? She was playing with fire, demonstrating iron-clad confidence, a devil-may-care attitude and sass he had no idea she was capable of, clearly trying to vex Nemesis into making a mistake. And it looked as if her plan was working.

The akuma cackled. 'Baked goods?’ She parotted. 'Genuine affection? I think I’m going to give you what you’ve asked for, girl,’ she brandished the whip.

That was his cue. Adrien tensed, ready to intercept the weapon. He thought Marinette wanted to focus Nemesis’ attention so that he could sneak his way to her. He was wrong.

‘Show me what you got,’ the love of his life called out. She opened her arms, waiting for the crack. 

She didn’t have to wait long. With a banshee scream the akuma tugged at the whip. Marinette stared at her challengingly, not budging even one bit. The whip made contact with her skin. The crack was deafening in the narrow space of the underpass, masking Adrien’s frantic steps as he launched himself in their direction. Terrified he cast a look at his friend.

Marinette was still standing in her place, perfectly fine and unmarbleized. She raised a brow. ‘Your turn,’ she murmured.

Nemesis sent her a confused look. It only took a tiny fraction of a second and Adrien ripped the weapon out of her unresisting hand. Not thinking twice he threw it to Marinette, who caught it expertly and brandished it as if she’d been dealing with ropes her whole life.

‘Let’s see what you’re made of,’ she said.

Another crack thundered over the passage accompanied by Nemesis' cry of protest, both leaving an unpleasant ringing in Adrien’s ears. 

The space was suddenly short of villains. A stone statue appeared where Nemesis had been standing mere seconds ago. An outstretched hand, reaching for the whip. Lips opened in a silent shriek. Eyes blown wide and hair thrown back. Adrien was sure this was the least flattering image of Giselle he'd ever seen. 

Marinette limped to her. She weighed the weapon in her palm. 

'It's still dangerous, but if I break it and set the butterfly free while Ladybug is not here to purify it…,' she said.

Adrien shivered. 'The last thing this city needs is an army of Nemeses.'

'Despair not, civilians, who I see for the first time in my eternal life,' a familiar voice sounded from somewhere near the statue’s head. 'The cavalry has arrived! Well, metaphorically speaking.' 

Plagg's head popped from behind Nemesis' stone cold shoulder. Adrien suppressed a groan, while Marinette squeaked adorably in surprise.

'Sorry,' the kwami's ears dropped apologetically. 'I didn't mean to startle you.'

'What- who are you?'

Plagg tapped his nose. 'I'm Chat Noir's boss,' he announced with a toothy grin.

'Don't you mean "assistant"?' Adrien drawled. He had no idea why his kwami decided to show up to a civilian. Two civilians technically.

Marinette actually giggled at that, trying in vain to hide a smile.

The sprite sent him a flat look. 'I may be small in size, but I'm not some Santa's little helper,' he replied acidly. 'Anyway I'm here to offer my services as Chat Noir and Ladybug can't show up now,' he paid Marinette a deep bow.

'Your services?' The girl tilted her head, knitting her brows.

'I can relieve you of this cursed cargo,' he pointed at the whip, 'and take it to Ladybug for purification.'

'What are you going to do with it?' Adrien crossed his arms in front of his chest, his voice dripping with suspicion. First time he witnessed Plagg actually volunteering for anything.

The sprite looked between the two teens, then down at his belly and up at the ceiling. 

'You don't want to know,' he finally replied. 

'So you’ll get this to Ladybug?’ Marinette made sure. She passed him the whip.

'You bet,’ Plagg grinned. 'Cataclysm,’ he whispered and touched the weapon with a tip of his paw. The item turned to dust as the ground shook. A few cracks appeared where the whip lay on the ground, a few specks of dust fell from the ceiling. 

The akuma broke free. It fluttered its wings and took flight to sunlight. 

Plagg sighed. ‘Just think it tastes like camembert,’ he muttered barely audibly and leaped after the butterfly. Before Adrien could even ask what he wanted to do, the kwami swallowed the insect. He burped with an echo that should not be possible in such a small creature.

'Hey, since when can you-,’ Adrien started. 

Plagg sent him a warning look. 'I trust you two to keep quiet about this, okay? Now excuse me, but I have a Ladybug to catch.’ With one last grin he turned around and flew back into the metro.

Adrien watched until the kwami disappeared from sight. Marinette’s hiss of pain interrupted his plan to follow Plagg. 

‘Come on, I’ll help you,’ he offered, wrapping an arm around the girl’s shoulders and taking her weight. Once again he was stunned by her scent. He tried to ignore his spinning head and blood drumming in his ears. Ignoring the heat that ignited his skin proved to be more difficult.

‘Adrien, wait.’ Marinette stopped him. 

She put a hand on his chest. He wondered if she could feel the frantic beating of his heart.

‘F-for what?’ he stuttered, her proximity threatening to render him speechless. He squeezed his eyes shut and resolved to keeping his intakes of air in short, shallow breaths, not to get drunk on her essence. ‘Your leg is n-not going to get better until Ladybug finally arrives.’

‘The kiss,’ she simply said. ‘Before something or someone interrupts us again.’

‘The kiss,’ he echoed, the finality of it suddenly crashing on him. 

Adrien looked at her, for the first time in days seeing Marinette in an entirely new light. Not only was she a great classmate and a thoughtful friend. She was kind and accepting, loyal, sensitive and respectful. But also strong, determined, creative and resourceful. She was brave, fearless maybe, definitely selfless. 

And she loved him.

‘No, I- I can’t ask you to do that,’ he whispered. ‘I don’t want- Oh, this is a nightmare!’

‘A nightmare? Why?’ She frowned. ‘Don’t you want to break the curse?’

If she’d asked him that question the day before, he’d undoubtedly said yes. But now he was hesitant. Why didn’t he want her to kiss him? Why hadn’t he confessed the true nature of the curse earlier?

Because I don’t want this to end, he realized. I don’t want to stop loving her. Because I feel it in my bones I belong with her. Because she’s my soulmate. 

Was this the curse talking? Adrien no longer knew how he felt. Where did his original feelings end and the miraculous magic begin?

‘Adrien?’ 

‘Loving you… it’s not-,’ he murmured. ‘It’s the best thing that happened to me since-...,’ his hand went into his hair. He caught a fistful and tugged, hoping for the pain to give his mind back to him. ‘I love loving you,’ he ended lamely.

‘But you’re cursed,’ Marinette looked at him from under her long lashes, her gaze worried and kind. 

He could drown in her eyes. He wanted to be able to look into them every day. He wanted to worship her every day. The nausea and panic rose from the depths of his stomach.

‘That isn’t fair,’ she continued, unaware of his internal turmoil. ‘You need to - as you said - be your own man. You need to make your own choices, not have magic make those choices for you.’

‘I know.’

‘We need to do this,’ Marinette turned to face him. Adrien failed to remove the hand that rested on her shoulder. She blushed and smiled sweetly. ‘And I’m not saying that because I want a kiss from a cute boy.’

‘I know,’ he chuckled, despite his unease, blushing even more. ‘Just… let me have this…’ he ducked his head and pressed his forehead to hers. He wouldn’t have dared attempt such an intimate gesture, but he desperately wanted to savor those last moments. He wasn’t sure what he’d remember once the curse was removed. 

Marinette didn’t shy away, just like she hadn’t when they had been talking in her room. She leaned into him instead, wrapping her hands around his middle. ‘Whatever happens, you won’t lose me, Adrien. I promise.’

Each time Adrien thought she couldn’t be more perfect, she proved him wrong. How could she read him like an open book? How could she know him like this?

‘You’re wonderful, Marinette,’ he whispered, his voice cracking. ‘Thank you. For everything.’

She climbed to her toes and reached to his lips. The world fell still.

***

Author’s Note: If you like this story, please let me know!

[fifteenleads]

all in a day’s work (2/?)

Bungou Stray Dogs  x  Cells At Work.

.

"Atsushiiiii! " Naomi quickly envelops Atsushi in a tight hug as soon as they get back to the dorms. He still feels dazed after getting away from the scene; Tanizaki had immediately come to pick him up after hearing what happened, even pushing away the Killer T Cell that had been questioning him about the creature's whereabouts. The whole body had been placed on red alert since that afternoon; apparently, the remaining stragglers had managed to escape the Neutrophils' initial attack efforts.

"You probably shouldn't go to work tomorrow," Tanizaki says later over dinner, eyebrows furrowed with worry. "Just call in sick. I'll tell the boss for you."

"N-No, I'm fine," Atsushi manages to find his voice, "these things do happen on the job. I'm prepared."

"The  hell  you are!" Naomi slams a hand on the table, almost spilling her miso soup. "Pneumococci are really dangerous! Pneumonia's just the beginning; they can also cause severe bacteremia and worse, meningitis! You're not going anywhere! Nii-sama, too!" She directs her glare to Tanizaki, as well, who does not protest his sister's outburst, but remains frustrated nonetheless.

Later that night, Atsushi remains wide awake while in bed, his mind replaying the day's events. He wouldn't describe himself as some sort of hero at all. Those would be the immune cells, the body's own elite military force that defended against attacks from harmful pathogens. Unlike him, they are fully trained to detect and annihilate any and all threats that come their way. It's just how their world works.

Even so, Atsushi knew he could not just stand back and watch a helpless cell die. Just like back then—

"Do you really want to die that quickly?!"

That... Neutrophil, Akutagawa. If he hadn't arrived on time, Atsushi would have probably been killed right there and then. Everything happened so quickly— the way his coat fluttered in the acrid air, and the swiftness with which he wielded his knife... It was like watching a dance of death, the blood splatter extending like a flurry of red petals.

"Like a blood knight," Atsushi mumbles to himself. Even he has heard of the rumors of the "Rabid Dog" that had joined the Neutrophil Division a few months ago, around the same time as when he started to work as a Red Blood Cell. To think that he'd been saved by that very person just this afternoon— what were the chances, indeed.

It was all too familiar to him, for some reason— something, back in the recesses of his memory, that he couldn't recall, no matter how hard he tried.

Atsushi immediately stops that line of thought, sensing a headache coming on. He turns to his side and closes his eyes, thinking of how to spend his break tomorrow. He doesn't want to worry Tanizaki and Naomi any more than he already has. Time to move on.

-

The riverbank is quiet in the early morning, with only a few red blood cells milling about with crates of gas tanks. It seems that the body hasn’t woken yet from its slumber, lending to the more relaxed overall atmosphere.

It is actually one of Atsushi’s most favorite times of the day, starting from back when he worked the night shift for a few months. The slower pace had given him more time to think and learn things.

Today, too, he is seated in his usual spot, notebook and pen in hand. He has forgone the red jacket for a pale, brown cardigan, over an old white shirt and black jogging pants. The gentle upwind caresses his face as he watches the sun rise.

Atsushi flips to the most recent page and begins to write. It had begun as a coping mechanism of sorts; Ozaki-sensei had taught him how to deal with his old nightmares in this manner. The first entries have been rigid and restrained, then have eventually grown more detailed as he learned to let his words flow more naturally. It had certainly been a long time since he’d had to use his notebook, but now is probably as good a time as any to start again.

He is already three-quarters into the entry when an angry baritone intones from behind, “What are you doing here? Somatic cells are not allowed to leave their homes until further notice.”

Atsushi immediately turns around to explain, and is again met with those jet-black irises, this time flashing in mild annoyance. Likewise, the scowl on the other man’s face is replaced with brief surprise, before settling into an amused smile.

“Oh, it’s you,” they both say in unison. Atsushi follows this up with a smile of his own, eliciting a raised eyebrow in response.

For someone who has apparently been patrolling all night, Akutagawa doesn’t look any worse for wear at all, the additional blood splatter on his dirty fatigues notwithstanding. His posture remains taut even as he uncrosses his arms, in what Atsushi presumes is an attempt to diffuse the tension between them. He lets out a small chuckle at this before he could stop himself.

“What’s so funny?” Akutagawa growls at him. It makes the couple of red blood cells nearby flinch, but Atsushi only laughs harder instead. 

“N-Nothing at all,” he says while wiping a tear with his gloved hand. “I just didn’t expect you to react the way you did just now.” The explanation does not convince Akutagawa at all, whose expression is currently something between a grimace and a frown, as he tries to process what he has just heard.

Atsushi finds it unexpectedly endearing, and his heart almost skips a beat at the thought.

The sun has just fully risen, and the background chatter gradually becomes louder as more blood cells arrive in the area. It sets Akutagawa on edge once more, and he quickly turns to leave, taking much larger strides than usual. 

“Akutagawa-san,” Atsushi calls out to him, stopping him in his tracks. Akutagawa whips his head back, tired eyes in a dead-set glare once more. “I’m actually on break today,” Atsushi continues anyway, carefully standing back up and dusting the grass that stuck to his pants, before jogging lightly towards Akutagawa. “Can I walk with you, at least part of the way?”

Akutagawa’s glare only deepens, as he gives Atsushi a quick once-over from head to toe. He doesn’t say anything for a while at first, the silence between them making Atsushi’s skin prickle. Finally, Akutagawa’s face relaxes into a more neutral expression as he turns back to continue on his path.

He doesn’t say no, at least, Atsushi thinks as he falls into step beside Akutagawa. This is fine for now.

-

The continuation of Akutagawa’s foot patrol brings them to a puncture wound at the right median cubital vein, where a blood sample had just been drawn earlier. Atsushi notices a small group of platelets there, repairing the damage to the vascular endothelium there. A relatively simple job order like this would only take twenty-four hours, tops, yet Akutagawa observes the goings-on with an ominous frown.

He’s just normally like that, Atsushi tries to convince himself, but the longer he thinks about it, the more he starts to believe Akutagawa, as well.

“Big Brother Red Blood Cell?” a tentative voice calls from behind him, and Atsushi whirls around in surprise. The platelet he had saved yesterday shyly waves back at him, with an excited grin that reaches up to their ears. “It is you!” they confirm in delight, immediately running closer to him for a hug.

Atsushi bends down to the child’s height and accepts the small embrace, giving them a gentle pat on the head before adjusting their lopsided cap. “Hello there! Glad to see you’re doing well.”

The platelet nods enthusiastically, gesturing to the ongoing construction work behind them. “Yup, all thanks to you, Big Brother and the Big Brother White Blood Cell!” Atsushi instinctively looks behind him, just in time to see Akutagawa flinch at the mention, a pale hand over his face as he looks away, trying to suppress the rosy flush that is now growing there. “I… was just doing my job,” he deflects, as if to ask the child to just go away and get back to work, as it were.

Atsushi nearly snorts at this, but resists that temptation in favor of telling the child just that. “I think your team leader’s calling for you,” he says, gesturing to the taller, dark-haired girl in twintails now approaching them. She gives Atsushi a hesitant smile, bending down, too, to tap the child on both shoulders.

“Thank you for saving one of my teammates,” she nods her head as if in a bow, the mobile phone hanging around her neck bobbing with the action. “All of us platelets appreciate your bravery, good sirs.”

“You’re welcome,” Atsushi smiles back, now feeling the same embarrassment Akutagawa is trying hard to suppress since earlier. He settles for putting a hand behind his head to show just that, and the girl understands at once, taking the child by their hand before standing up to leave.

“Do let us know if there is anything you need in the future,” she offers. “I’m Kyouka, one of the platelet team leaders, and this is Q.”

“All right, Kyouka, Q,” Atsushi acknowledges with another nod. “It was nice meeting you both.” 

“Likewise. We must get going now, good sirs.”

The short meeting ends soon after, and Atsushi turns back to Akutagawa, who has now lost the pink blush on his cheeks, yet remains in silent contemplation. “Thanks for waiting, Akutagawa-san. Where are you going next?”

Akutagawa does not answer this, and the strange foreboding from earlier creeps back, sending slow chills down Atsushi’s spine. The body had blood drawn just recently; was there any reason for that?

He then remembers that the red alert warning, too, hasn’t been lifted. It makes him hesitate— was he holding Akutagawa back?

“A-Akutagawa-san?...” Atsushi begins again tentatively, but is taken aback when Akutagawa’s radar suddenly picks up a distant signal, and he suddenly runs back in the direction they came. Atsushi is only briefly stunned by the sudden start, before he, too, starts running.

He catches up to Akutagawa before long, barely sparing him a glance as he asks, “I-Isn’t this already the axillary vein? What’s going on?”

Akutagawa’s radar only buzzes louder in response, and they both pick up the pace. They reach a minor valve, which Akutagawa expertly jumps over, while Atsushi is momentarily thrown off as he attempts to clamber over it. He could normally pass through the venous valves if he were wearing his uniform and ID, but this just had to happen while he’s off-duty, of all days.

In that short instant, the distance between him and Akutagawa has already increased exponentially, and Atsushi shouts in his loudest voice: “Wait for me!”

Akutagawa’s shoulders tense up even more, but he doesn’t stop running. “You stay there, Red Blood Cell! It’s not safe!”

You’ll only hold me back, is what Atsushi hears, and it frustrates him so much— the tail-end of Akutagawa’s last words, the mechanical beeping of the valve alarm, and the soft, angry growls rising from his chest as they end in a cry of frustration out of his trembling lips.

“Red blood cells run from bacteria, not fight them!”

He knew that—  knows that. This was never his fight to begin with.

Atsushi returns to the dorms, dejected, and buries himself under the covers. The area-wide sirens from outside wail loudly, announcing evacuation orders, but he couldn’t care less about that now.

There’s no point, after all— there was never one, for him.

.

(2/?)

[footballengland]

England 3 Argentina 2 – Friendly, 2005

Friendly International, Geneva. Saturday November 12, 2005.

England: P.Robinson, L.Young (P.Crouch 81), W.Bridge (P.Konchesky 45), L.King (J.Cole 57), J.Terry, R.Ferdinand, D.Beckham, F.Lampard, W.Rooney, M.Owen, S.Gerrard.

England snatched a thrilling victory over Argentina with two late Michael Owen goals in what was quite possibly the greatest friendly game ever played.

The game started quietly and at a relaxed pace with the Argentinians maintaining comfortable possession for the first five minutes before England won a corner following a muscular break by Wayne Rooney.

The corner came to nothing but the incident seemed to galvanise Argentina into more serious action, as though offended that England should have the audacity to mount an attack.

From here on in the pace quickened and the action never stopped.

The Argentinian playmaker Riquelme gave a signal of his intentions by stinging Paul Robinson’s fingertips from the edge of the box.

Rooney then chipped through for Michael Owen to head into the far corner only for a marginal offside call to cancel the effort out.

Playing in the hole and proving extremely elusive to England’s holding player Ledley King, Riquelme began to really get a grip on the midfield.

Robinson was called upon to save again, this time from Tevez and as the ball rebounded into the box bodies were flung everywhere as four shots were charged down before the danger finally passed.

The respite was brief, however. Within two minutes Robinson had made another fingertip save from Zanetti and Crespo had forced the ball past him although again the goal would not stand.

Crespo had barged through the back of Rio Ferdinand to get to the ball, although it was not clear whether this had been the offence punished or if a handball had been given.

England responded to this pressure with Frank Lampard putting a clear header wide from David Beckham’s right wing corner.

Then Wayne Rooney, possibly sensing a personal battle with Riquelme for top billing, came to the fore.

First he headed wide from Beckham’s centre before coming within a whisker of giving England the lead.

Steven Gerrard fed him with a telling through ball, Rooney took the ball in his stride with a magnificent touch and flipped his shot over the onrushing keeper.

Cruelly, the ball landed squarely at the base of the far post and squirted to safety away from the lurking Owen.

Then a rampant Rooney powered his way into the box before tumbling against Ayala. It could have been given as a penalty but the referees’ refusal was probably just.

With England apparently gaining control the Argentinians stormed upfield to take the lead.

Rodriguez slipped beyond the rusty Wayne Bridge with ease to play a killer ball across Robinson which Crespo slid home with relish at the far post.

The only surprising thing about this goal was that it had taken so long to arrive.

Within a minute Gerrard had sent a thunderbolt towards goal which Abbondanzieri got the faintest touch to, not spotted by the referee but vital nonetheless.

Then England were level. Beckham moved infield to supply a deft header which Rooney pounced on, sliding a side footed finish inside the keepers’ left hand post from fifteen yards.

Paul Robinson still had to pull out another top save to keep out a Tevez effort from distance to keep the sides level at the interval.

Half Time: England 1 Argentina 1

Any thoughts that the second half might be more sedate than the first were quickly dispelled.

Paul Konchesky had come on for the struggling Bridge at half time and soon looked equally uncomfortable.

The competitive nature of the game was emphasised by a booking for Lampard. It had not been his first crunching challenge.

Argentina had wrested the initiative again with everything going through the outstanding Riquelme.

When his side were awarded a free kick thirty yards out England were on red alert as the dangerman apparently lined up a shot.

This was a bluff. Shaping to shoot, Riquelme instead chipped a ball to England’s back post. Walter Samuel had got himself against Konchesky and was always favourite, although the England replacement made his task even more straightforward by declining to challenge.

Samuel’s header back across goal was already in before a clutch of his teammates arrived to make absolutely sure.

England missed a great chance to equalise almost immediately. A trademark, arrowed diagonal ball from the right wing by Beckham saw Gerrard power to the by-line to cut an inviting ball back into the path of Lampard.

From the edge of the area Lampard’s side footed finish was, for once, off target.

Now England gambled by removing King and bringing Joe Cole into the fray.

The Chelsea sprite immediately began to have an impact with some purposeful dribbling and the game remained very much in the melting pot.

Beckham sent in a rasping effort from distance that the keeper could not hold and then Lampard was fractionally off target with a stinging left footed half volley from the edge of the box.

Beckham was given another chance with a free kick thirty yards out. Again the keeper could not hold the effort and Owen was unfortunate to see his lunging shot from the rebound snuffed out.

Ten minutes from time Robinson was again in the action, making a vital double save to keep his team in the match.

Now Eriksson sent on the lanky Peter Crouch in place of Luke Young with Gerrard continuing his magical mystery tour of a game by slotting in at right back.

With time running out the irrepressible Rooney again burst into life. First he tried a spectacular volley from distance and got it spectacularly wrong before a magnificent piece of control and vision saw him execute a delicious chip which Abbondanzieri did extremely well to desperately claw behind for a corner.

England were now piling forward and the Argentinians, without the withdrawn Riquelme, were wilting.

Three minutes from time the equaliser came. Gerrard strode forward into space down the right and drove over a telling ball to the far post and there was Owen, heading down and back across goal into the net.

It was typical Owen. His second half touches could be counted on the fingers of one hand but his contribution, when it came, was vital.

England still came forward. Rooney centred for Beckham to test the keeper with a header before the game was settled in injury time.

Cole received on the left and drifted towards the edge of the area. With Beckham outside him the obvious pass, Cole suddenly darted inside and whipped a great ball into the near post where Owen pounced again to send a firm header low past Abbondanzieri.

It was a fittingly thrilling conclusion to a game that had been compulsively exciting throughout.

Full Time: England 3 Argentina 2

Robinson 9, Young 7, Bridge 4 (Konchesky 5), King 5 (J.Cole 8), Terry 6, Ferdinand 6, Beckham 8, Lampard 7, Rooney 9, Owen 8, Gerrard 8.

Comment & Analysis

Bring It On. What a game.

It was not the fact that England beat Argentina 3-2 after two late Michael Owen goals in Geneva today that made the encounter so compulsively uplifting, it was the sheer magnificence of the whole game.

Indeed, the snatching of victory after Argentina had withdrawn possibly the games’ outstanding player, Riquelme, could perhaps be a little misleading. It would certainly have been incredibly hard on England to come away from such a thrilling game without at least a draw, however.

Long after the dust has settled on who had the most chances, or most possession, best penalty claims or the harshest disallowed goal England should remember how much of their strength lies in and around the other teams’ box and what is possible when they let caution slip and seek to exploit these strengths.

Please God let Sven remember the gut wrenching way his, and our, team has been knocked out of the last two major championships seeking, ineptly, to hang on to leads.

It is a fact that almost all of Sven’s best moments in charge of England have come when his team have gone behind and his apparent natural caution has had to be abandoned.

Sven’s latest attempt to solve the conundrum of how to get the best out of his vaunted midfield involved Ledley King playing a holding role behind Beckham, Gerrard and Lampard.

This move did not work.

I am not a fan of playing a central defender in this role, for even though King is better with his feet than most defenders that is what he really is.

Nations who use this role employ genuine midfield players in it, players who play it week in and week out for their clubs.

England have one such player and he is Michael Carrick, a man Eriksson seems to have no intention of selecting. If this is the case his best option seems to be to play a straight four in midfield and let them cope with the defensive side of things as best they can.

If Eriksson could allow himself to trust his men to score more than the opposition rather than worry about what might happen at the other end it would surely be to everyones’ benefit. After all, England will always concede a goal or two to the best sides anyway and if we are to lose surely that is the way we want to go, isn’t it?

The worst thing about the holding role as demonstrated by King is that he hardly ever actually stepped into the midfield at all. This meant that Argentina always had a numerical advantage in the middle and were breaking at King and the defence with the ball already under their control.

This made King powerless to tackle or intercept and time and again the quick passing Argentinians swept past him. I am not pointing the finger at King for this, once players of that calibre have the ball at their feet and are running towards you there is nothing you can do except hope they don’t score.

To influence the game the holding player still has to play in midfield and win his challenges early, to nip things in the bud. He just does not go bombing forward like we want Frank and Stevie to.

Anyway, at least Joe Cole’s performance in replacing King should have offered some encouragement to his manager to be a little bolder.

Playing in the manner you always feel he might, Cole made a definite impact with his confident, purposeful running and, crucially, his extra quality.

In fairness to Cole no manager has ever seemed to really place their complete trust in his abilities but now has to be the time for Eriksson to do so.

Give him the shirt but also make it clear you expect him to deliver performances of this nature. He might be found wanting sometimes but at least we would be going down in the right manner, and if he does get it right he can hurt anybody.

As for the game as a whole it was simply too full of incident to try to recount the incidents as they happened and of a quality hard to describe in words.

It was what football would be in a perfect world, especially given that we actually won, and was what football can be, but so seldom is.

Above all it was what you would hope the World Cup will be, but there can be no guarantees of that.

After all, in a World Cup the Argies would surely have been calling on an impressive array of spoiling tactics and Eriksson would have been hauling off attackers and throwing on Owen Hargreaves and the like at every turn.

I leave it to you to piece together the action as best you can and decide which pieces of skill were the most memorable, there is no shortage of choice.

Lampard’s left footed half volley grazing the post? Or Gerrard’s thunderbolt which brought an unacknowledged, though magnificent, save from the keeper? An all too rare drive from Beckham that forced another save from the keeper or the succession of evil centres he put over from the right?

The balls’ we all remember Beckham putting over from the flank for Manchester United which were, and obviously remain, as potent a weapon as football has ever seen, yet which the deliverer himself seems to have mysteriously tired of unveiling.

Or did you prefer the moment when Steven Gerrard sent over his own right wing centre? Completely of his own trademark it was every bit as dangerous as any provided by Beckham and having the added bonus of being nodded into the net by Michael Owen. I think we all enjoyed that one. And Joe Cole’s wasn’t bad either.

And of course there was Rooney. Watching this guy play is just unbelievable. How old is he? I don’t even know but he’s actually going to get better. Can you believe it?

He plays a role which only the truly special players can play at international level and all the others good enough to do it have grown into it halfway through their careers. They couldn’t do it when they were boys.

Who exactly was Zinedine Zidane when he was Rooney’s age? Did he play football? Pele and Maradona were magnificent players at Rooney’s age but they were just forwards, forwards with genius but just forwards. They became complete football geniusses later.

Personally I love just watching Rooney receive a ball. As soon as he sees it coming his head is up having a quick look round and in that instant he knows what he’s going to do with it. Then, if he decides to keep it, his head is back up working out what to do next. It’s so easy for him it’s scary, everything is the work of a moment and, basically, everything is right. What a player.

Against the Argies he hit the post, scored and had a sublime chipped attempt clawed desperately to safety by an inspired keeper barely off his line. Each of these incidents bear watching closely, not for the end product but for the seemingly effortless way in which Rooney made them into chances.

Watch him and then imagine another striker on the end of them. I even think he might have meant to put his goal in with the bottom of his studs.

Of course it would not have been such a great game, and it truly was a great game, if the Argentinians had not played so superbly themselves but there is not time, and it is not strictly my job, to do justice to their performance.

Their contribution can be summed up quite neatly and succinctly by pointing out that Paul Robinson was magnificent and that they possibly had the best player on the pitch in Riquelme. He was fantastic.

I would like to think that he would have encountered a few more challenges in the real thing, however, and feel Gary Neville and Ashley Cole will make a profound difference to the stability of our defence, if we are considering the game in a World Cup context (they might say the same about Rooney but would you want to tackle him?).

All in all it was certainly just the performance to make everyone forget about the recent past and have us all looking forward towards the summer with the tongues’ of a rabid dog.

Lets hope the footballers do for us next summer what the cricketers did for us this. I think there are a couple of important aspects we should take from the Ashes into the World Cup.

One is the absolutely positive attitude the England cricketers maintained throughout in defeating the best team in the world (take note Sven), and the second is that guy they had on all the adverts dressed up as W.G. Grace preaching the gospel.

I say get him a replica 1966 shirt, a miniature Jules Rimet Trophy and get him on a plane to Germany.

“Bring it On!”.

from Football England https://www.football-england.com/england-3-argentina-2-friendly-2005.html

[snappedsky]

Fanatics Adventures in Space Part 10

The Battalion battles Irken soldiers. Previous! Next!

--

War Part Three

           Squee pulls on his goggles before zooming through the doorway towards the killer robots. He weaves around their lasers and stops facing their backs, quickly examining them with his calculating eyes. Just as one starts to whip around to fire at him, he takes off again and joins his team back inside Mar’s house.

           “I don’t see any weak points,” he says, “and my knives definitely won’t cut through that metal.”

           “They look top heavy,” Dib comments as he glances at the bots between blasts. “If we take out their legs, we can knock them onto their faces.”

           “And smash their heads,” Gaz adds.

           “Right, let’s move!” Pepito booms and dives through the door. He rolls behind one of the metals walls in the yard and takes cover. The others are quick to follow, narrowly dodging the laser blasts.

           Dib pokes his head out of cover and starts firing with his power glove, focusing on a single robot leg. It takes a couple shots before it’s blown off and he ducks back down.

           “They are robust,” he comments.

           Squee pops out and throws a Smiley Bomb, it rolls underneath another bot before exploding. The blast seems to cover the whole bot, but when the smoke clears, only two of its legs are gone.

           “No kidding,” he agrees.

           Gaz remains ducked down, watching the bots from around the corner of wall while they fire relentlessly. Her eyes widen when she spots a piece chip off the metal wall.

           “Guys! Our cover is gonna get blown, literally!” she warns.

           “Everyone focus on one bot!” Pepito orders, “we’ll work our way down the line instead of destroying them all at once.”

           “Yeah, but also!” Squee adds, “only destroy the legs on the right side!”

           Everyone nods. Dib and Pepito focus their blasts on the first bot on the left while Squee tosses in a bomb or two every couple seconds. They quickly manage to destroy almost all of its legs, leaving only two on its left side. It loses its balance and falls into the bot beside it, which causes all of them to topple like dominoes. And the firing ceases.

           “Nice!” Dib cheers.

           “Time to smash their heads!” Gaz barks as she jumps over the wall and races to the pile of bots, hammer held high. Pepito and Dib quickly follow while Squee stays back to watch.

           The bot on the top of the pile starts to lift its cannon arm to fire again but Pepito stabs his spear through it and then Dib grabs its shoulder and blasts it off with his power glove. Then Gaz steps in and smashes it head with one hammer swing.

           The three of them make quick work of the bots, destroying their lasers and their heads. When they’re finished, they step back and Squee tosses in a few Smiley Bombs. They destroy the bots’ remains, scattering them across the yard.

           “Nice. Sweet. Alright,” the four of them comment and congratulate each other as they watch the smoke clear. Meanwhile, Zim, Kio, and Mar have watched the whole thing from inside the house. Kio is smiling proudly while Zim and Mar are speechless, their jaws hanging open.

           “Wow,” Mar comments, “I didn’t think those little aliens had it in them.”

           “They’ve…gotten better,” Zim mutters.

           “Of course they have,” Kio says, “they’ve been training all those last months in anticipation for this. To help you, Zim. They knew what they were getting into. We all did.”

           Zim stares at her, shocked for a second, before looking back at his team. He didn’t notice before but it looks like they’ve gotten…taller.

           He watches them forlornly.

           Outside, the kids are still congratulating each other on a job well done when a sound reaches their ears. Everyone looks up at the sky as a ship flies by and multiple objects drop down.

           A group of about twenty armoured Irkens land on the ground in front of them. The kids look at them with surprise before the Irkens each lift large bazooka-like guns and start firing.

           “Whoa whoa!” Pepito exclaims before creating an energy force field. The lasers explode against it and he struggles to keep it up.

           “Fall back!” Kio orders.

           “Go!” Pepito tells the others. Dib, Gaz, and Squee race back into the house but Pepito stays put, struggling to hold up the shield.

           Zim growls and runs out, his spider legs extending from his PAK. Two of them stretch out and create a force field just behind Pepito’s while the other two wrap around his midsection. They tug him back and he drops his force field. Zim keeps his up until they’re both back in the house and they dive away from the door.

           “Reinforcements sure showed up fast,” Pepito comments as he rubs his arms.

           “The drones have built in cameras,” Mar explains, “reinforcements would’ve been on their way as soon as they saw you winning.”

           “Well, soldiers oughta be easier to beat than bots, right?” Dib questions.

           “Hardly,” she scoffs, “the drones are used for capture or fodder. The soldiers are built to destroy.”

           “They got the drop on us anyway,” Squee adds, “and if they were watching the cameras, then they know what to expect.”

           “I’m gonna call for help,” Kio says as she grabs a radio from her belt.

           Everyone screams with surprise as a small hole is blown through the wall just above their heads.

           “Make it quick, Kio,” Zim orders as they stare at it fearfully.

           Meanwhile, the Resisty ship floats just outside Irk’s atmosphere. Most of the crew along with Johnny, Devi, Tenna, Skoodge, Gir, and Minimoose have stayed in the bridge since the Battalion left. Everyone’s tense as they wait for some kind, any kind of news from Kio.

            Lard Nar nearly topples out of his command chair when his communicator goes off. Everyone looks at him with surprise when he turns it on.

           “Kio?” he questions.

           “Nar!” she cries. Her voice can barely be heard over a cacophony of blast shots and shouting. “Irken soldiers have us pinned! We need help! The cover won’t last much longer!”

           “Uh uh wh-what should I-?” Nar starts to ask frantically.

           “Send down something! Anything!” she begs before a loud smash is heard and she cuts out.

           “Kio? Kio!” Nar exclaims but she doesn’t respond. He breathes heavily with panic for a second before shaking it off and standing up in his chair.

           “Alright, everyone! Our comrades are in danger!” he booms, “who will go down and fight by their side?”

           Nobody says anything.

           “Guys, come on,” he whines, “they need help.”

           “You expect us to fight Irken soldiers?” one of the officers questions, “we’d be lucky if we make it through the atmosphere.”

           “Yeah but we have to do something,” Nar points out, “otherwise they’ll be captured or worse!”

           “We all knew this was a terrible idea,” Spleenk mutters.

           “There has to be something we can do, anything!” Nar begs hopelessly.

           “Send me down,” Johnny states.

           “Huh?” Everyone looks at him with surprise as he steps forward.

           “Put me in one of those escape pods and send me down near their coordinates,” he says, “I’ll even the odds.”

           “B-But planet security is on red alert now,” Nar points out, “an escape pod won’t be able to sneak through again.”

           “So?” Nny argues, “aren’t you supposed to like outsmart the Irkens or something? Find a way to break through.”

           Nar stares at him with uncertainty for a second before he grows thoughtful and he looks away, rubbing his chin.

           “Spleenk!” he barks, pointing dramatically. “Ready the mortar cannon!”

           “Sir?” Spleenk questions.

           “We are gonna blast Irk’s force field,” Nar declares, “and in between the blasts, we will send Johnny through in a pod.”

           “Now you’re talking,” Nny smirks.

           “B-but the security will know right away who’s firing!” one of the officer’s points out.

           “We will worry about that after we make sure Johnny is through the atmosphere,” Nar orders, “now do as I say.”

           The control room gets all in a tizzy as Spleenk readies the mortar cannon.

           “C-cannon ready, sir,” he squeaks.

           “Good. Johnny, get in an escape pod,” Nar orders.            Nny does a half salute as he goes over to the escape ships. Devi, Tenna, and Skoodge quickly follow him.

           “Are you sure about this?” Devi asks.

           “If I wasn’t I wouldn’t have suggested it,” he replies as he climbs inside.

           “I’m coming too!” Skoodge declares as he hops inside.

           “No you’re not,” Nny grunts and tosses him into Tenna’s arms. The hatch closes before anyone can argue.

           “Escape pod coordinates set for a few feet from Kio’s position,” an officer declares.

           “Good,” Nar nods, “Spleenk, begin firing.”

           Spleenk whimpers and presses the button.

          Missiles begin firing from the Resisty ship and explode against the force field surrounding Irk. It suddenly lights up red.

           “Send the pod!” Nar barks.

           Johnny’s escape pod takes off. The sudden force shoves him into his seat and he smiles excitedly as he disappears into the smoke from the missile explosions. Meanwhile, drones have released from nearby watch towers surrounding the planet and are flying to the Resisty ship.

           “Hold,” Lard Nar orders as they approach the ship. Large laser cannons fold out of the drones’ undercarriages and aim at them. “Hold.”

           Resisty officers whimper and hug each other as the cannons charge up.

           Shloonktapooxis cracks open his eye and glances at a screen when it lights up.

           “The pod has broken through the atmosphere!” he shouts.

           “Retreat!” Nar shrieks.

           The drones begin firing as the ship twists around and flies off. Lasers explode against the hull and the drones give chase.

          Meanwhile back on Irk’s surface, the soldiers have blasted through the front of Mar’s home. She and the Battalion are clustered against the back of the building behind Zim’s force field. The soldiers have finally stopped firing and approach, guns still at the ready. Everyone glares at them.

           “Defect Zim, illegal aliens, retiree Mar,” one of them says, “give yourselves up or be killed.”

           “I mean, you’re just gonna kill us anyway, so,” Dib shrugs.

           The aliens take aim. Everyone braces themselves.

           Just as they start to fire, something whizzes down from the sky and crashes into the ground, crushing over half of the army. The remaining soldiers whip around, shocked, while Mar and the kids perk up.

           The smoke and dust clears, revealing a Vortian escape pod. The hatch opens but it’s too dark to see inside.

           Before the Irkens can wonder what’s going on, a large knife flies out of the darkness and smashes through a soldier’s helmet. They fall back, dead.

           The soldier’s aim at the pod but find themselves unable to fire as a lanky alien steps out, a knife in each hand, and dark eyes like they’ve never seen.

           Johnny’s boots crunch the remains of the crushed Irkens beneath his ship. And then he strikes.

[livingcorner]

How to Get Rid of Garden Weeds

By getting rid of weeds (unwanted plants) springing up in your vegetable garden, you stop weeds from removing vital nutrients from the soil. If you find  that weeding is taking up the majority of time in your garden, here are some simple techniques to help you reduce the time spent weeding AND increase the amount you harvest from your vegetable garden!

Note that it’s most critical to keep weeds away from newly emerging seedlings. Keep your crops weed-free for the first four weeks of their life.

You're reading: How to Get Rid of Garden Weeds

1. Mulch Over Them

Use mulch (shredded leaves, brown cardboard, straw, or wood chips) to cover the soil around your plants! This covering blocks weed seeds from sunlight so they don’t germinate, inhibits growth underneath itself, and retains moisture. Mulch also provides needed nutrients as it decomposes over time, and moderates soil temperatures.

Cover the soil between your plants and along rows with a layer of mulch to prevent weeds from growing. We recommend a layer that’s at least one inch thick. 

Keep the mulch a few inches from the base of your plants to discourage insect invasions and prevent rot, too.

While we use organic mulch such as straw, there are also inorganic mulches including black plastic and landscaping fabric.

Note: If you use leaf blowers, many come with shredders that can turn yard debris into garden mulch fast, which saves you the costs of making or buying your own mulch. See our mulching guide.

Image: Straw used as mulch to suppress weeds, hold in moisture, and break down into soil. Credit: Jurga Jot/Shutterstock

2. Exclude the Light!

For persistent or numerous weeds, exclude light! Cover soil with dampened newspaper (black ink only) or brown cardboard (with any tape removed). Then cover that with 2 inches of straw or compost. This ensures that weeds don’t get the light they need to grow. There will still be some persistent perennial weeds that survive but most will not grow through, hence, very little weeding necessary. Plus, you’ll save on water and have happy worms and soil. 

This works best, of course, when you are starting a new garden bed or a new garden space. Watch Janice Stillman, editor of The Old Farmer’s Almanac lay down a few layers of newspaper, wet it, adds mulch on the edges of the newspaper, and dumps compost on top of the newspaper bed! You’ll love having almost no weeds to contend with and as a bonus it helps build the soil. It couldn’t get any easier than this.

3. Pull Them Out or Dig Them Up

You’ll still need to manually pull out weeds during the season. It may not be your favorite chore but it’s oddly therapeutic and almost meditative for some of us! Wear waterproof gloves and consider a comfortable kneeling pad or camp stool for extended weeding sessions.

Read more: The Secret Garden | Amazon.com.br

Weeds will slide out of the soil easier when the soil is wet and the weeds are young.

The trick to pulling weeds is to get the root out as well, since many common weeds—like dandelions—will regrow from any roots left in the ground. Pull the weed from its base (close to the soil line) and twist gently to dislodge the roots. If you accidentally snap the roots off, try using a fork to gently pry the rest of the plant out of the ground, roots and all.

If your weeds regrow, then you have a persistent root that you need to dig out. Use a spade or digging fork to dig up persistent weeds by the roots. Remove as many root pieces as you can.

While weeding, try to hold the trowel vertically (like a child holding a crayon) to eliminate strain on your wrist.

Here are a few common weeds and the best ways to remove them:

4. Use Homemade Herbicide Sprays

While some folks turn to dangerous chemicals, many weeds are actually resistant to herbicides and respond better to different methods of control. See 5 natural “weed killers” to get rid of competing plants while still keeping people, pets, wildlife, and waterways safe.

5. Hoe Them Down

When weeds have really sprung into action, nothing beats a good old-fashioned garden hoe with a long handle. Hoeing is best done in the morning when the soil is dry. The weeds will cut cleanly from the soil and this creates a “dust mulch,” which inhibits the germination of new weeds. You can let the weeds simply dry in the sun during the day and then take to the compost heap. 

Make quick work of gliding through and getting too hard to reach spots. It’s especially useful early in the season. Once a week, even if there aren’t many weeds, quickly go over the surface and keep the soil moving. Over time, there won’t be many weeds left. 

Image: There’s nothing like the trusty hoe with the long handle! Keep it nice and sharp.

6. Minimize Soil Disruption

If you hoe, do not overturn the soil or dig down below the surface (no-dig). We don’t want to expose the dormant weeds seeds to light and air which will only bring them back to the surface.

Some folks say it helps to weed at night! No kidding. Research indicates that weeds may be stimulated to grow by a sudden flash of light, which is what you give them when you turn the soil over during the day. A German study concluded that by turning the soil at night, weed germination could be reduced by as much as 78 percent! You can try this method by working under a full Moon, or at dawn or dusk.

7. Chop Off Their Heads!

If dealing with weeds is too much of a hassle, at least resolve to keep them from setting seed. Once a week, use a grass whip or string trimmer and cut off their heads before they flower.

8. Keep Your Garden Edges Trimmed

Ever noticed many weeds collect at the edges of your yard or garden? Keep your grass and garden edges trimmed to cut down on invasions of weeds into your fertile garden soil. The places to watch are the not only the edges of your lawn but also around posts and fence lines as well as close to planting beds. Another idea is to grow perennials or ground roses that will shade those edges and make it easier for you!

9. Aerate Your Soil

Some types of weeds, especially those with deep roots, grow well because the soil is compacted. The plants roots aren’t getting the air, water, and nutrients they need so the weeds start to take over. If you rent an aerator from your local home improvement store, you’ll be amazed at how providing annual aeration will reduce the amount of deep-rooted weeds.

10. Reduce Open Garden Space

If your soil is rich and drains well, plant your plants closer together. This will cut down weed growth.  Start your warm weather plants as soon as you can to keep the soil from being bare for too long. At the end of the season, plant cover crops such as rye grass, winter wheat, or oats to prevent weeds from finding a home in your garden.

Read more: Soil and Compost for Vegetable Gardening

11. Avoid Watering Weeds

If you can water only the plants that need it, you may avoid the cultivation of weeds in unplanted areas, paths, and areas where they are not welcome—and where they would dry up if not watered!

12. Let Them Grow…Temporarily

Encourage weeds to grow before you plant your garden. Lay sheets of clear plastic over your garden in early spring to warm up the soil and encourage weeds to germinate. Once the weeds are several inches above the soil, pull or hoe them out. Then plant your own crops. 

Bonus: Eat Them!

Yes, some weeds—lamb’s quarters, amaranth, purslane, and others—are edible when young and tender! Instead of destroying them, consider cultivation! Learn more about eating your weeds.

Cover Crops in Fall/Winter

Also, at the end of the season after you harvest your veggies, plant cover crops, like wheat, clover, and barley. They are beneficial plants that give back to the soil but also keep weeds from growing and soil erosion from occuring. In some situations, you can use a cover crop in the shoulder seasons to block out weeds. See our list of cover crops.

Expert Video: Easy Weeding

In this video, we demonstrate some weeding techniques and explain which methods work best for different types of weeds, as well as how to use mulches and weed barriers for future protection.

Know Your Enemy

Above all, knowing how to identify the most invasive and destructive weeds is key to keeping your garden defended from weeds. Check out our list of common weeds to help identify what’s growing in your garden and learn how best to get rid of it.

Source: https://livingcorner.com.au Category: Garden

source https://livingcorner.com.au/how-to-get-rid-of-garden-weeds/

[les-cartes]

((I decided I wanted to do a thing with Riamlie on this “a guy moves into a mansion with the 7 deadly sins”, so it’ll be below the cut. It’s actually kinda long.))

It was strange to have a mansion practically given to anyone like this, especially when it seemed to have been at least decently kept. Not to mention used lately considering how much dust there was. There was some, but not as much as you might expect from a mansion that supposedly no one has been into the past however long that one guy said. Riamlie wasn’t paying attention anyway, he figured it was finally an up from all the recent events. His friends eventually felt too betrayed by his lack of self-confidence to be ‘friends’ with him anymore, his stalker actually got over him finally. Even if his stalker was creepy he didn’t mind him that much, and at this point he’d be welcome. Anyone being his friend would be welcome at this point, well besides maniacal individuals bent on getting enjoyment from torturing others. He even lost weight, although it’s more the unhealthy kind of losing weight. Muscle strength was most of his weight, slowly fat was overtaking it and even then there wasn’t enough to fully replace it all.

Not even an hour in he could hear other voices in the house, more speaking to each other while sounding as if they were talking about the chimera. Things like “How long do you think this one will last?” and “Not long, seems like a bloody pansy to me.” which safe to say he didn’t have much hopes for himself. Not that he had much going into this himself, not really fearing what was around the corner even if it meant death. “You wanna bet? I think they’re coming around the corner...” He knew they were talking about them, but at this point he still didn’t care. Hell, maybe they would help free him from his mortal coil finally. 

“You know it’s rude to talk about someone who’s listening.” With that comment Riamlie looked at several individuals, each dressed in their own style to fit their personality. One looked like a ruffian, a greaser if it were twenty years ago. He wore a denim jacket while torn sleeveless, wearing a white undershirt and black pants. Another was a lady in minimal clothing to be acceptable, their skin looking impeccable with excellent facial features and flowing hair. The only other one he saw was in large baggy clothing, tired eyes and messy hair. They seemed androgynous, mostly difficult to tell with their clothes, hands in their pocket and slippers on their feet. “Uh... it was to my understanding no one lived here. Did I mis-hear..?” Riamlie asked.

The rowdy looking one quickly stepped up to Riamlie, face inches before his to stare him down before backing off slightly. “That’s because no mortal lives here, dumbass. Didn’t you listen before you signed? Not listening is a good way to get you killed.” He commented, although getting pushed aside by the one even he found beautiful. “Don’t listen to him hun, assuming you even were.” There was a quiet chuckle that followed from both. “Technically the seven of us own this place. The other four are elsewhere, but welcome to our home. I’m sure one of us can show you were you may sleep. I would ask if you want to come with me, but you seem the type that would be... distressed.” Grinning at the chimera she poked his nose gently as he pulled his head back. 

The one with messy hair waved at him, taking the lead out the door. “I would introduce you to everyone, but I’m too lazy for that. I might sleep after showing you your bedroom.” With a quiet nod he followed them along the hallways, coming to a stop at a specific bedroom. “Here you will stay, for if you sleep anywhere else we hold no responsibility yada-yada.” They explained it in a monotone voice, yawning before starting to wander off. Shrugging them off he entered his room, finding yet another individual in his room, yet seemingly to covet everything in there. “Oh uh... sorry. Was this room yours?” He asked them, their head snapping to the direction of his voice. This one seemed to be edgy, take the black clothes and striped socks and fingerless gloves, goth make up even. “No, it’s not mine... yet.” Removing her hands from the desk they walked up to him, looking him over for any distinguishing items. “This is your room, I was just checking it out. Seems nice.” After a moment Riamlie moved out of the way, then they promptly left. “Strange people... apparently not mortal people. Not to mention seven...” Shaking his head he sighed, taking off his jacket to leave on the chair by the desk. Not content leaving it there however, he took his beloved device from one of the many pouches. “At least I still have you...” With a sigh he put it up to his lips to rest it there for a moment before securely putting it in his pocket.

For a change he heard a knock instead of someone rushing up to ‘greet’ him. Looking back he seemed to have left the door open, with a well dressed individual who could pass for the owner of this mansion himself by the frame. “Yes, now that I have your attention. I believe you still need to be introduced to us and our home, correct?” Raising a brow he nodded, shoving his hands into his pants pockets. “Well I can’t summon them here, as much as I wish I could. I am pride, welcome to our wonderful house. Hopefully the others didn’t put you off, they tend to do that with outsiders. The ones you met, you can probably assume their names according to their dressing habits. Lust being the confident and seductive one, Wrath being the hot headed brawler, Sloth was the one who lead you here, Envy you found here, then there’s me, Gluttony and Greed. I believe this room will suit you well for your every day necessities, aside from food. Do be careful with food around Gluttony however, he doesn’t like to suffer any of it being around him instead of inside him. Other than that, any questions you have I would be happy to answer, even happy to show you around our lovely home.”

Sitting there he found it hard to believe, he not only named off seven different people, but all of them as a deadly sin. “Uh... I guess am I safe here?” Questioned Riamlie, although his smile didn’t give him hope. “That depends. Just don’t sleep in any of our rooms and don’t cross our boundaries. Careful though, Lust is a known killer with that.” That immediately made sense to him, making him draw a sigh. “Thanks, uh... Pride. That helps.” 

Then a week would pass by, Riamlie mostly keeping to himself while especially to his own detriment. He would hardly eat, and everyone who would pass by him could tell. Finally one of the sins, wrath particularly got fed up with everything and by dinner time he would strong arm Riamlie to his seat. Once there he stood over him, putting the utensils in his hands and stared down. “Now eat, dammit!” He demanded, watching him slowly and stiffly work on his food. “Look I didn’t have high hopes for you but I’m not letting you throw your damn life away, got it?!” Quietly Riamlie nodded, his skinny boney arms making an effort to deliver food to his stomach. “Good. Now Pride, everyone, I’m gonna ask you all something. Do you think this sorry excuse of a mortal is worth trying to help?” Since there was no sound of protest he decided to keep going. “You all don’t want him to die, do ya?” He asked once more, once again taking the lack of voice as consent to continue. “Not sure about you selfish pricks but I’m gonna help his sorry ass. Look at him, how much worse does it get when you have to be told to eat?” 

Meanwhile the only noise they could hear was Gluttony’s constant chowing down on a feast in front of him. Once Pride finished eating he stood up to speak. “Are you saying we try fixing a broken man who seems beyond repair, befriending a silly mortal?” His response only served to make Riamlie stop, which only further fueled Wrath. “Well I’m damn well not abandoning him! What, do I have to beat all of you up to make you understand? I could kick all of your asses, even mine!” Even if it was dumb shouting he claimed it like he owned it. There was a moment of silence once Gluttony finished eating, allowing everyone a clear moment to think. “Why not help the poor boy, Pride? What, might your own namesake be tarnished if you help a mortal? It would make sense all things considered.” Lust commented while Envy and Sloth shrugged. “I guess.” One added. “Why not. Couldn’t hurt.” At this point it was unanimous, then Gluttony pointed towards Riamlie’s plate. “You should eat more than that buddy. Actually I’m gonna plan out your diet from now on.” Riamlie would look at all of them, more confused and hardly understanding why they suddenly seemed to care. “That’s better. You heard the fat man, eat.” And so he did, until he couldn’t pack another bite in him. 

The next month wouldn’t go by without some struggle of course, but all the same Riamlie somehow found the deadly sins he could call friends. Wrath to whip him into shape and to give him (poor) advice when people cross him, Sloth to help make sure he takes it easy once in awhile, Lust to hopefully make him less awkward in more intimate situations. Each as even as a deadly sin to help improve his mindset and especially his self-image. Even Envy and Greed showed him he deserves more than he believes, Pride helped him feel good about his actions and accomplishments. Then of course Gluttony assisting him in keeping meat on his bones, although his diet plan seemed to be more fattening than anything. It was all an unhealthy way of helping, but they essentially saved his life all the same. They did what they needed to, fix him up so he could stand on his own two legs again.

Peculiarly his old friends, Riamat and Seras would be directed to the same mansion. Not that they were looking for Riamlie, in fact they were invited by an anonymous letter. Once they were there Riamat had knocked, while Riamlie on the other side was directed to await for such noise. Once he heard it, he naturally picked himself up from the stool nearby and went to answer the door, his face going immediately into shock much like Seras’ and surprise for Riamat. “I... wh... what are you two doing here?”

Putting her hands on her hips Riamat tilted her head at him. “I could ask you the same thing. When did you acquire a mansion? Not to mention how have you kept it in good shape?” Glancing to the side Riamlie moved to let them in. “It’s technically not mine, but I got a right to it I guess. There’s seven other people here who’s been helping me... live I guess.” Without any prompting Seras came up to hug him while propped up on her tail to be eye level. “I’ve missed you, you big oaf.” Hesitantly Riamlie brought his hand up to the back of her head, gently stroking her hair while holding her with his other arm. “I missed you too buddy.”

[metavanaj]

‘Travis Strikes Again: No More Heroes’ | I’m not mad, just disappointed...

Hi, my name’s MetaVanAJ and you’re too late. Of late, I’ve been diving into Suda51’s return to the directorial seat, Travis Strikes Again: No More Heroes, for the Nintendo Switch. I don’t want  to give my ‘pre-release story & thoughts’ because ultimately it didn’t impact my final feelings on the title. All you need to know is I entered the game with a fresh & positive mindset - I went in open minded, looking for a new experience and above all else...a Suda experience. I still got one so I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed. The recurring theme you’ll see in this article, and by extension the game, is that TSA gives but it also taketh away. But what is it giving and who is it giving to? And what does it take away from itself? Read on, little reader, read on. I wish it was as clear-cut as saying ‘TSA takes one step forward, two steps back’ but it isn’t. I’ll break it down for you and hopefully, you’ll see what I’m trying to communicate about the various elements of Travis Strikes Again: No More Heroes.

Combat

The meat of TSA is the beat ‘em up combat - I’d say it’s top down but occasionally, the camera likes to remember it’s a camera and it takes up a different/interesting angles, to frame the action. The majority of the time though, it remains in a birds eye view. To order my thoughts, I’ll be splitting up this section, in two: player character control, and enemy composition. The player can take control of series, lovable and hateable, Travis Touchdown & the newcomer with a grudge, Badman (with the DLC adding the two brilliant ladies of Bad Girl & Shinobu). The character’s moveset, for the most part, is incredibly well-designed. You have light and heavy attacks, a jump and a dodge. Light attacks are best for clearing mobs while heavies do the big damage. Unfortunately, they can’t be mixed and matched so you are best off finishing a string of light attacks with a couple of heavy hit. Your attacks can also be used in conjunction with your other moves, meaning you have access to a jumping heavy & light attack, as well as lunge move, inputted by rolling and then attacking. Holding down the L button gives you access to four pre-equipped skills, all of which correspond to a face button. When a special gauge is filled, you can vigorously smash that R button for a 3-hit super move, that does the big numbers and the big AOE. Sounds pretty good, doesn’t it? Well, it is - sadly, nothing really combos into anything but combat is more about keeping enemies trapped in a constant barrage relentless hitboxes than it is about ‘comboing’.

While you may have a fun, customisable toolset, the instances/encounters you can use it in are...unsatisfying. See, any good action game knows the toolset is only half the story; the other half being enemy composition. And oh boy, TSA’s enemy composition is flaccid. Enemies either go down in two hits, like total punks, or can take up to a solid minute of  nothing but heavy attacks, to eat the digital dust. It begins to feel like a musou...that’s not a good thing. This ain’t no 1000 heartless fight from Kingdom Hearts II, bub. TSA’s mobs for 90% of its duration are mind-numbing and dull. I say 90% because in the 4th game, Golden Dragon GP (it’s the racing one), contextually it makes sense for it to feel ‘grindy’; as well as, in the latter half of the last ‘full’ game, Serious Moonlight, the game starts to demonstrate competency, with its enemy encounters. The only saving grace of the combat is the boss encounters. The only gripe I have, with those set encounters, being that their 2nd phase doesn’t differ enough from their first but hey, neither of the prior two games did this so it’s a mute point. I had fun with the bosses of TSA, but that’s about the extent to which I enjoyed fighting the enemies, in this title.

Level Design

I think it’s very easy to bash TSA’s level and so I will. I jest, of course, my beautiful reader. You see, a lot of the design philosophy from the series past has subliminally snuck into this title as well, thus I kind of have to forgive the often, sub-par level design. That and the game actually does showcase some promising elements; a running theme you might be starting to notice. The ‘puzzles’ contained in Life is Destroy (the 2nd game) is an interesting concept, but is never elaborated/expanded upon. The idea of Travis going through a Resi-style mansion (Coffee & Doughnuts, the 3rd game) in a more trippy-esque fashion sounds great, but isn’t executed in an engaging way. On some level, it’s not ok to attack TSA’s level design but had the level’s been, gosh I don’t know, somewhat interesting to traverse maybe it could of disguised the monotony found in the game’s combat. Its levels feel a whole lot like the past two NMH’s titles, and Killer Is Dead, so it’s exactly what you expect from another Grasshopper hack and slash. However, in the grand scheme of good game design, it’s got a long way to go before being considered decent.

Soundtrack

The soundtrack is a bit of a mixed bag. Most of it is a thumping techno assault to the ears, to match the cliche ‘ video game-y’ aesthetic of the game - whether or not, this is a good thing varies from track to track. Personally, I love the techno remix of the main NMH theme but I can see why others wouldn’t. Rarely does the game whip out a sensational track that completely juxtaposes its premise because when it does boy, is it beautiful. Probably, the best example of this is in Golden Dragon GP, when the track Cold Rice kicks in. It’s a beautiful sombre piece and it really highlights just what TSA’s OST can do...and this is just song about cold leftovers. I get that, like, on an emotional level. The soundtrack, like the game, is a little conceptually messy but occasionally, when it wants to it can deliver on something truly magical and unique.

Writing/Presentation

The highlight (and personally, the only redeeming factor) of TSA is the writing and how the story is presented. The visual novel segments are a quaint little way to tell the meaty sections of story and I adore them. These are a not-so-subtle throwback to Grasshopper’s early titles, like The Silver Case. The absolute absurdity of the sections makes them difficult to present in any other format than just that...a wall of text. There’s nothing with the way it has been executed that is inherently ‘wrong’ but it could have been done so in a more engaging manner. I would’ve loved to have seen a level try to encapsulate what occur in these visual novel segments, due to just how entertaining they are to read; this where the ‘Suda-ness’ of the game shines. Instead, we got an incredibly well written visual novel, accompanied by a lacklustre game; I wish it was the other way around. Oh well, the writing’s the best it has ever been, I guess.

Is this shit good?

SO that’s TSA...or at least the elements you should take into account when trying to sum up whether this strange little game is worth it. To summarise crudely, everything in TSA starts off as a promising concept, but is often sloppily done in execution. Ultimately, I can only recommend it to the Suda fans, not even NMH fans, as the cheeky amount of hidden fanfare and that brilliant writing is sure to bring a smile to anyone who believes in the big 51. Even so, still pick it up but only for a discount... just if you’re curious. It’s incredibly sad that the nicest thing I can say about a game, to the mainstream consumer, is that hey ‘at least it runs at 60FPS’. As a fan, I’m glad TSA happened but at the end of the experience, the actual ‘game’ in this video game left me feeling flaccid.

Did I just a end a review with a dick joke? Yes. Godspeed, reader...

[monofazz]

Genocide together: Chapter 7- Crystal Stars and Mostly Silent Flowers

Creator of Killer!Sans- @rahafwabas​

Whelp, this took it’s time!

Oh well.

The first thing that hit the two was the smell. The ashy odour in the air almost overwhelmed their senses. Undyne looked around the area and saw piles of grey strewn across the cavern and heard nothing but silence from the Echo Flowers.

The guard beside her whined softly at the sight, ears flattened down.

“The human… it was here.” Amourus mumbled, “Where is it? I can’t…”

Undyne didn’t respond and stepped irregularly to avoid the dust piles and Amourus followed, wide-eyed, “Do you think it’s in here somewhere? Did we go past it without knowing?”

His Captain had seemed to have lost the ability to speak, so he too kept his mouth shut. The eerie silence was suffocating.

If counted, there were five piles of former monsters in this particular cavern, some of them had items left behind in the mortal world by their dead owners. Amourus tried to avoid looking at them too long as he could feel a slow, crawling sensation on his neck every time he failed to resist the awful sight.

He tried to keep his mind of the fallen monsters, using another one of his senses to keep him distracted. He closed his eyes for a moment, head dipped down, praying for something distracting to keep his mind from the horrific carnage. Then… he heard, ever so faint, the sound of crying. His head snapped up.

“Captain?” said Amourus, “I think I hear someone, from over there!”

“What? From where?” Undyne inquired, but before she got her answer, Amourus bolts out of the Wishing Room and out of sight, “Hey, wait!”

Undyne quickly caught up to Amourus, who was standing at the edge of the waterfall that holds the endless rain of stones and boulders. Undyne herself had thrown on countless rocks and boulders at the top of the waterfall.

Though she was supposed to devise a puzzle in the room, she hated puzzles as she does making them. Unlike Papyrus. So instead of crazy puzzles like the ones that littered the Underground, she delved deep into her creative, unique, Undyne-like imagination and created something that’ll end up making passersby have to constantly avoid the falling rocks from above.

Amourus, avoiding the brook, looked at his captain and poked his nose towards the three-split waterfall, specifically at the middle, that holds a secret room behind the wall of water.

“I think it’s behind there,” said Amourus.

Undyne quickly made her way to the waterfall (Amourus still staying on dry-land) and passed through the water-wall and looked around until she spotted a young monster curled up in a corner.

The monster noticed her immediately and he gasped, “Undyne!” mewled the monster and almost slammed into the Fish Warrior, sobbing and recklessly sucking in breaths with no air.

“Undyne! Undyne! Undyne, Undyne, Undyne I, I, I, I’m sc-scared, he, I, it—” he blubbered, “… nearly…g-got me…nearly found m-me…”

Shaking, Monster Kid could say no more, only holler out, expressing fear in sobs and desperate breaths, unable to return to the painless and even breathing that didn’t bring stitches to his sides or threatens to clog his brain towards unconsciousness.

Undyne went on one knee and tried to soothe the tear and snot filled child, “I’m here. You’re safe, ok? Were gonna keep you safe, and away from the human. I’m not going to let it get near you, or anyone. It won’t harm anyone else, I promise you.”

Monster Kid stared at her, wide-eyed, in complete horror, as if he knew something she didn’t, “B-but, there was… there was… he… he was here… helping…”

Undyne didn’t know what he was talking about.

She gently lead him out, using her spears to bounce the rocks safely away from them as they got back to the hyena monster.

Amourus stared at the child, suddenly feeling the need to completely protect the little one from the danger of the situation at hand. Monster Kid whimpered and wept, only giving him a few glances before staring out to the distance, shaking.

Amourus gave him a gentle look before setting his eyes on Undyne, “If I may, Captain…” Undyne turned her attention at him, finally taking her eyes off the young monster. He spoke quickly.

“Can I bring this little one ahead to Hotlands and to Evacuation? It’ll be safer for him if he had someone going with him. The human could be anywhere in the area… and if the human finds him…” Amourus faltered for a second before hurrying on, “He needs someone to take care for him, until he gets to safety.”

Undyne nodded, “I was just going to ask you that,” and she smiled, “I can continue the search on my own. You stay with the kid until it’s completely safe.”

Amourus blinked for a moment, almost faltering, but he gave an obedient nod, “Good luck, Captain, in finding the human.”

He looked down, tenderly giving Monster Kid some reassuring words, although they seemed to have little effect. Monster Kid gradually moved with him into the next room.

Undyne watched them leave, knowing that both of them would be safe.

But was she wrong.

Chara slammed straight into a wall.

They cried out in surprise and flailed, becoming unbalanced and fell flat on their back, with a particularly solid blow to their head. Flipping onto their side, they grasped their head, whining in pain.

“Owwwwwwwwww! What the heck?!” Chara griped.

Sans, who didn’t make a move, just wondered for a moment why did Chara just crash into a very obvious wall. Chara struggled to get to their feet.

“Where did the door go?!” Chara demanded at the wall.

“Uh.” Was all Sans could say. How hard did they hit their head?

Chara snarled and grasped their knife. They started to bash the wall, chipping the compacted earth and loose rock, “Is this some kind of trick? Where did it go?”

Sans quickly took a hold of Chara’s soul in blue magic and dragged them away from the wall.

“Woah, there. I thought we were supposed to be attacking monsters, not walls,” Sans said jokingly.

Chara whipped their head to face him, eyes bulging, “Sans! You saw a door, didn’t you? It was just there, it just disappeared!”

“There’s no door, kid,” Sans said bluntly. But the more he thought about it, the more he felt a crawl of doubt, the more he felt like there was something missing in his mind, a certain event he cannot place. Additionally, he was pretty sure that they were at the entrance of the tunnel instead at its dead end…

Chara was starting to struggle in his magical grip and dragging themselves back to the wall. He decided to try and remember later. So, without any more wasted effort, he zeroed the gravity on their soul and started to drag them out of the tunnel and out in the more open cave, with them swiping at the air in a feeble attempt to get back to mutilating the wall.

They soon slumped in defeat and Sans put them down. They still grumbled about the “stupid, vanishing door”.

Soon Chara became quiet and the silence reverberated between the two, the only sounds being the gurgle of water and their corresponding footsteps. Chara gave a slightly interested glance at Sans’ telescope set up in the corner before admiring the spectacularly glittering wall on the opposite side, and Chara felt glad to be lucky enough to see it at this angle.

The water went back to a luminous blue, almost lighting up the black dirt path. The Echo Flowers in the area were ominously silent, Sans noticed, but really all the Echoes they had passed said nothing at all.

Until one of them produced a loud scream. Sans jumped away from the flower and Chara yelped in surprise. It wasn’t until Sans heard a second voice did he realise it wasn’t coming from the flower at all, but from behind him.

“Kid! Calm down, it’s all right!”

“No! No, no, no! It’s not! IT’S THEM!”

Sans stared at the hyena in surprise before laying eyes on the panicking monster…

Chara swerved to face the two, face twisted in surprise and eyes flashing red. Monster Kid screamed again, “NO! NO, NO!”

Amourus stared at Chara in wide-eyed shock. They could feel the air of wrong all over them. Their stance, those hostile eyes and… their soul. It beat and pulsed inside of them of a deep, pure red. A soul right side up. A soul of a—

He came to a horrid realisation and pulled Sans away from them. He set a shield between the two monsters and him and Chara.

“Human!” Amourus barked and immediately went to attack with his magic driven, white-hot, double-edged sword.

Sans hardly had time to register what was happening before the opponents clashed, Amourus in a flurry of panic as he tried to block each and every one of the human’s attacks, looking for weak points in which he can thrust his weapon into their warm, small body and make them bleed and wither and die.

On the other hand, Chara was already battle ready and shrieked with laughter as they attacked and dodged and attacked, almost like a lethal dance in which they were opponents against death, death promised from each other.

Sans couldn’t intervene, the shield made it so. This was Chara’s battle, and Sans knew they’ll be fine on their own. He just had to take care of that kid, surely he, who saw him kill Grillby will soon tell Undyne what was happening—

Monster Kid was already running in the opposite direction, where Sans and Chara came, going to find Undyne.

Sans quickly went into action, teleporting far ahead of Monster Kid. He can’t let him get to Undyne, if he does, it’ll be Game Over. Sans and Chara weren’t strong enough to take down Undyne, not even close. He had to take care of this.

Monster Kid skidded into an abrupt stop in front of the skeleton.

“Going somewhere, kid?” Sans growled, eyes dark.

Monster Kid backed away from the skeleton, shaking uncontrollably and tears filling his eyes. “Don’t kill me,” he whispered.

Sans’s soul pulsed brightly and burst out a surge of magic, showing no mercy as the ground, which where Monster Kid was standing, glowed a glaring blue. Monster Kid scrambled backwards to avoid the bone that shot out from the phosphorescing earth. Hastily getting to his feet he scrambled away from the danger, but coming to a halt in front of a wall of bones that raised up to the celling.

Monster Kid’s soul flickered with panic, pulsing rapidly and sensing his impending death. Unable to run away. Unable to call for help. This poor monster, this young Monster Kid, cornered in an inevitable fate, completely helpless. Monster Kid felt tears coming to his eyes again, he was going to die… he closed his eyes.

Then, the monster rationalised. Would Undyne do what he’s doing? Stand in place and accept death? Without so much as a fight? This is not what Undyne would do. Undyne would fight. And fight and fight and fight until the enemy was defeated. She will not accept death; she will not accept evil concurring over good. She will not.

Monster Kid had always idolised the Great Fish Warrior, her strength, her determination to protect the Underground from Bad Guys, her passion of her people, and defending all their hopes and dreams that they poured their souls into the glittering crystals that were their stars and lighting up the Underground with their beautiful, adoring souls that dreamed of a Future Above.

An Enemy stands between everyone’s hopes and dreams, an Enemy he can call a Monster no more. This thing, this living, breathing thing in a shell of a Monster that had once loved and hoped. Wearing a blue jacket, black shorts, slipper-sneakers and a crazed smile. Ready to kill at any given moment.

Monster Kid will not go down without a fight. This is what Undyne would do.

Taking a step forward, shaky but determined, he spoke, “I-I-I’m not going to let you hurt any-anyone else! And, and, and… you’re… you… you and that human… are going to destroy them all! I-I can’t… let you do that! Be-because, I have to save Monsterkind! I-I have to… I know I can’t, but I have to try! So, so… I dare you to fight me! I- I-”

Monster Kid’s soul plummeted to a cold blue and a sudden chill invaded them, fear piercing him again. The Enemy seems amused. Gravity, relentless upon him, forced Monster Kid to his knees. He cried out, surprised and fell hard on his face as he toppled, the unforgiving ground greeting him with a burning cold smack.

Then the pull of the Earth lightened as they rose from the ground and flipped, liberated from the sudden, absurd density of gravity, they stilled in space, everything slowed, twinkles of the glinting stones above him seem to take forever to light and fade. Tilting their head down to the ground, they saw the Enemy, left eye glowing like a powerful soul, vapour of excess magic flittering out of the eye-socket like untamed flames. The Enemy’s soul was a shape, ever so slightly, warbling out of the normal upended heart that was a Monster soul, so slightly.

Inclining his head further, they saw what waited below him. A snapped, jagged blue bone. Then everything went into fast-forward. The gravel blue and amethyst and rose quartz jewels blurred and mixed and formed into pointless shapes and colours. It mudded and dumbed his mind until a sharp pain in his chest snapped him back to his last few seconds in reality.

Without another processed thought, Monster Kid was no more and his dust spread across the floor.

The now useless bone attacks quickly dissipated into magical vapour and Sans doubled in on himself, trying to get his breath back. His soul thumped and burned inside of him, a new wave of unexpected pain had nearly taken him off his feet.

Gripping his chest and creasing his shirt, his grasp tight and squeezing, slipping the fabric through the spaces of his ribs, he tried to nullify the pain, the pain. His soul throbbed and flickered, but it soon exhausted itself and behaved. The pain was gone.

Sans had gained a new Level of Violence.

Sans blinked and looked up, hand still wrapped in shirt and curled around bone. And he looked at the pile of dust on the ground. The kid was dead. He wasn’t going to come back, tell Undyne or anything. Sans and Chara are in no danger of a vengeful Undyne when they’re not strong enough. Not for a while now. Obstacle gone.

Still smiling, he stepped over the former monster, leaving the dust undisturbed.

Chara, meanwhile, was enjoying their fight. Amourus tried and tried but kept getting hit, slashed, hurt. In his defence, he did take a good chunk of the human’s HP, but not much. He was slowing down; tiring, shield slowly dissolving and his sword flickered from time to time, rendering it useless for a few seconds. Leaving him forced to resort to physical attacks until it re-appeared.

The murderer seemed to have a limitless energy, a human, and a young one at that, relentlessly going in with their shimmering weapon to tear down his HP bit by bit. Slowly, but surely, Amourus was soon left with his life on single digits and he knew, the next attack, if he didn’t block it, he would surely die.

Panicking now, Amourus started to hastily set up a weak sword that broke from the power of the next attack and Amourus gasped, eyes wide, but the knife missed him by a hair’s breadth. He stumbled back, blinking rapidly, mind trying to process that it was still alive. The human sprang at him in his sudden moment of weakness and got him on his back. Small but horrifically strong, they pinned him by his neck and raising the knife with the other, high above their head.

The hyena monster struggled and flailed, he rolled onto his side, surprising the human. Now the human was on the ground, but they growled and abandoned their knife and set both hands and digging into his throat. Gasping for air, Amourus tried to rip their hands away whist going it for close-combat, using what’s left of his magical offense reserves, he used small versions of his swords on the human’s arms, slicing and making them bleed.

The human screeched and let go, but went in for a powerful punch that set the guard down to one remaining HP. Amourus, from the impact of the blow, skidded across the ground and off the ledge and fell into the luminescent water below.

The human scrambled to the edge to watch him flail helplessly in the water, the bottom too deep, his erratic movement and his inability to swim merged into a lethal mixture of fear and death.

He went under, once, and tried to push himself to the surface. But all his energy had been drained from battle and his body, working so hard against the water, an opponent that he was so utterly weak to he just couldn’t; he sank from the surface again…

And never came back up.

Chara counted the minutes that went by and then checked their Status. He must have died under there. They were now on Level Eight. They grinned and stood up, and found themselves facing into dark empty sockets.

Chara screeched in surprise and jumped away from Sans, clutching their chest, “Oh my Celestial Stars, Sans, you nearly gave me a heart attack!”

Sans gave a lop-sided grin and bright glowing eyes in response, “Well, good thing I didn’t, huh?”

Chara poked their tongue out, “Shut up.”

“Well, at least you got rid of the guy you were fighting, right? Or you would have been under cardiac arrest,” Sans chuckled.

“Sans, no, don’t even start,” Chara warned.

“How? I don’t even have a ticker.”

“Sans I will hurt you,” Chara felt their mouth twitch up.

“Sorry to hear that, I thought my little ice-breaker would have been very heartening.”

“That is it!” Chara shouted and went for the comedian, a sudden laugh bubbling up inside and bursting out of their mouth.

Sans just stepped out of the way as Chara lost themself into a fit of giggles and held their stomach, a sharp pain jabbing them with every breath that they took in, but they hardly felt it.

Sans raised an eyebrow at the giggling child and almost felt a sense of achievement of making them laugh at his watery puns. Sans grinned wider at his unpremeditated gag.

“Guess the little pace-maker worked then?” snorted Sans.

“Yes, yes it… it did… Oh Skies Above, your jokes are so bad they’re good!” they snickered.

“They’re always good, kid,” Sans replied and led them down the path, their shared laughter not being registered to the flowers around them.

Except for one.

Flowey watched them go down the path and frowned slightly.

Sinking into the ground, he popped up right next to the latest victim of Sans’ carnage, Monster Kid. Sneezing from being so close to the dust, he growled. He was a flower, how the hell did he have the ability to sneeze? He didn’t even have a nose!

Putting his thoughts off impractical things, he contemplated of what he is thinking of this new and completely insane route that Chara decided to take on this time. It was the only thing he could do besides watching this whole ordeal unravel into one twist and turn to another (and stalking the two), since he refused to disengage the puzzles ahead of the duo.

Let them get stuck in the puzzles, he thought darkly, You always hated those puzzles, didn’t you Chara? Always made you take the boat or had to go running to Mom and Dad or me to get help. The only ones you ever got right was the 5000 Puzzle Piece that we had. Oh, you never let me touch the pieces, thought that I would eat them or something, like an animal.

But then again, you don’t need me to get you past the puzzles; the Smiley Trashbag could just do it for you, or just teleport you out of the room. You don’t need me for anything, anymore. Boring am I? I’ll show you ‘boring’… Chara, you termagant. Gone and ditched me for a Trashbag…

Flowey’s mind settled onto the skeleton, and he felt something cold slither down his stalk. Chara really did a number on him. He didn’t know what went down back at Final Hall, but it took countless of reloads, far past his botheration to count. He had decided to drop his count around a hundred and thirty or so.

But in those myriads of loads, Chara did something to Sans to make him snap. But what?... What could make him break like that, when he couldn’t make the same results? He did horrible things when he had control over the timeline. He did many amazing, beautiful things, yes. But most of them were filled with experimental chaos that eradicated the Underground many times… almost did anyway.

That damn skeleton was always there to stop him. To make him go back when he pushed it over the line. Manipulation. Murder. Regicide. Attempted Genocide. He never, ever, got passed the Smiley Trashbag. No matter what LOVE he was, no matter how many attempts. Sans always got the upper hand. Always.

And it wasn’t just Sans either. There was Undyne… even Papyrus at times. Papyrus, his favourite monster in the Underground, could almost always talk him out of everything. Not all the time though. But still, he could hold a record of ‘solving tribulations without doing a violence!’ as he would say. Good old Papyrus.

His smile he didn’t know that had appeared had fallen slack.

He didn’t really think Sans would have done it.

What he had done broke everything he knew about the brothers’ relationship into two. He had taken his brother’s life. This was unbelievable. Even for him, who saw and forced many outrageous events to happen, nothing like this had ever shown. This was new… and… and… he couldn't place it. What else was it?

Sans would have never done something as horrific as that. Was he even a Sans, anymore?

Feeling somewhat sick now, he felt himself bury into the earth and rose to find himself in a new location, rocky walls bare but the dome ceiling, sparking with the Underground’s artificial celestial lights.

“What did Chara do to him?” he asks to the crystal stars.

They didn’t answer him. Not that they could, anyway.

[ecotone99]

[MF] Knock at the Door

(Second assignment for my creative writing class)

I let the line ring itself out. That was the second call in the past few minutes, but I was busy cooking, and besides, I wasn't expecting any calls; if it was important, whoever it was would leave a message. The music resumed as the chimes died down. Brandon Flowers' album "The Desired Effect" was on shuffle "The Way It's Always Been," echoing around the small kitchen. The pop-rock kicking, a strong bassline, his prominent voice, full of longing and aching desperation, rang out.

"They shut down the golden hotel

Just because he says it won't be long till they blow it all to the hell

She's standing in the front yard cut off the skins

Me and her brother we been friends, since I can't remember when"

"The Desired Effect," Flowers's second solo album, known for his role as the frontman and lead singer for "The Killers," dives headfirst into the pomp of the 80s' for the 2015 album. Full of lost love, heartache, and underwritten with themes of nostalgia. Each song delivered emotional gut-punch after gut-punch. Which was the desired effect.

Typical music for cooking alone, Flowers made good company, and the house felt less empty.

Once the music resumed, so did I, chopping vegetables to the beat of the music and humming along. With a practiced hand, methodically dicing half an onion, making incisions first horizontally, then vertically to the root, in long chopping strokes down the onion fell into tiny uniform cubes. Scraping the onion from the cutting board into the bowl, I began on the carrots; using baby carrots, I started quartering them vertically, then interrupting the music once again, the phone rang for the third time. Annoyed, I glanced over at the phone, arching my neck to see the screen read "blocked caller." The carrot rolled, and the knife slipped, catching the side of my knuckle and slicing right through. It wasn't a substantial cut, but a cut nonetheless. One among many once it scarred, I watched it bleed for a moment, watching the slow creep of blood on its way out exploring this new world, before sticking the offending knuckle in my mouth and sucking on it till the bleeding stopped. Under the sink, I kept a small first aid kit, pulling out a small butterfly bandage, I used my teeth to remove the outer layer and peel back the adhesive covers. My knuckle now repaired, I made my way back to the cutting board, passing my phone on the way I checked it, three calls so far all from the same blocked number and no messages. All in the past few minutes, too, no one called me that much, at least not for a while.

"I took a long walk yesterday

To a field where I used to play

I saw myself in the corner of my mind

I was twelve years old and blind

To the big wheel and the grind"

Flowers continued to belt out heartfelt lyrics, still humming, even in a small voice singing along. Singing about being left behind, "The Way Its Always Been," about watching the world move on without you. Stuck ankle-deep in the murk of the past.

I cleaned the blood from my kitchen knife, whipped off the cutting board, and began again. "How long have I had this knife?" Thinking back, while starting on the next carrot. The blade's belly starting to curve back inwards from years of use and sharpening, surely it wasn't nearly as effective anymore. Its cutting edge no longer uniform, a small section of the blade not even making contact with the cutting board anymore. Almost past its usefulness, I suppose, but who was I to judge that besides it had sentimental value at this point, having been with me for so long, steadfast, aiding in so many a meal—a lot of thought for a knife. After the carrots, I minced three cloves of garlic and shredded a quarter head of cabbage. Finished up with the vegetables now, I cut one large chicken breast into bite-sized cubes, large enough to cook evenly, but not so small that they dried up.

"Ain't that the way that it's always been?

Laying low just long enough for the dust to settle down

The black and the white, the thick and the thin

And hoping that He's really got the power to save us from these sins

Everybody sitting around waiting for the sun to come again"

What had happened to him? To that place? The place the world forgot and left behind. When did it happen to me?

I was making fried rice, and as usual and quite unintentionally, I had prepared enough for two. I can't remember the last time there were two of us to cook for. Anyway, the damage was done. I tossed the ingredients into the pan, starting with the garlic, browning it, I added the onions and carrots. Tossing every so often, I left the vegetable to sweat on low and grabbed a light beer from the fridge. Twisted off the top, I had always preferred bottled beer and personally found they tasted better than canned and often insisted so. Who was it that always tried to argue that with me? An exasperated sigh, I vaguely remember the sound of it, that and someones rolling eyes. Rolling, I felt like I was rolling, tumbling down through a fog, zero visibility. I could hear something though, a voice, one so familiar and so far away, if only I could place it.

"I took a long walk yesterday

To a field where I used to play

I saw myself in the corner of my mind

I was twelve years old and blind

To the big wheel and the grind"

The fourth call rang out, interrupting the music once again. Yanking me back and tethering me to reality, to now. "Blocked Caller," the screen read again. Whoever was on the other side of that phone was persistent, I'll give them that. Fed up, setting down my beer, I picked up the phone and said nothing. Just stood, still, listening to the silence coming through the line. We stayed like that for far too long.

"Fine, I'll go first then." Curt, emotionless, she sounded like she was mid-to-late thirties. She sounded familiar, like the voice from earlier. But she spoke with no hint of familiarity, just a formal detachment. "You'll be receiving a guest shortly. Expect them to knock at your door in the next five minutes exactly." She spoke fast as if reading the words from a script. "The conditions for their arrival are specific, you may consider peculiar, but no matter the events preceding and during this guest's arrival, you must remain calm, collected, and most importantly, receptive. Or else we'll have done this all for nothing. It doesn't do anybody any good to continue putting this off. Do you understand?"

"Conditions?... Who is this? How did you get my number?"

"It's quite a simple question really, do you understand what I've just told you?"

"I don't get guests. So if you don't mind, I'm in the middle of something, don't call again."

"I'll take that as a ye-..."

I hung up, set the phone down, and stood staring at it, curious if that woman would call again. Trying to place her voice. Trying to convince myself that it was some coincidence hearing that voice, a voice I knew so well, twice today and under such strange circumstances.

"Ain't that the way that it's always been?

Standing at the water's edge waiting for the fog to clear"

As I focused more and more on the phone, I felt myself start to slip again, felt like I was sliding down my line of sight into a deep fog, with faces and voices just on the other side. But I just kept getting lost deeper and deeper into it. The smell and sizzle of garlic and onions brought me back. Cooking, that's right. I was cooking rice. Back at the stovetop, I turned up the heat on the pan and started tossing its contents again. "The Way it's Always Been" still playing. No. The song was stuck, just repeating a single lyric.

"Waiting for the fog to clear." Over

"Wating for the fog to clear." And over.

I looked down at the vegetables in the pan as I was tossing them; they didn't seem to cook anymore. Still sizzling and moving around the pan, but they didn't change. I tried turning the heat up on the stove, and the fire, instead of bursting into life, moved as if in slow motion slowing more and more gradually till the flames were perfectly still. I jumped back, releasing the pan mid toss. It moved up and away only slightly, slowly, till it came to rest, floating its contents frozen spilling out the sides. Onions, carrots, and garlic shining and half-cooked wreathed the pan. I landed back against the counter behind me, fumbling to catch myself, I knocked over the beer on the counter. I scrambled, hurrying to right it before it spilled all over my phone. But it had stopped falling just before contact with the countertop, the liquid inside unmoved, unspilled. The music now just a droning:

"Ffffooooogggg..." Stretching into infinity.

The events of the past few minutes had condensed, pilling up, collecting, and slowing into one trapped moment. Everything but me, I moved independently of this time now. All I could do, though, was gape and my surroundings, lack of movement, lack of sound, and lack of time.

"Knock, ... Knock, ... Knock." Three precise and evenly timed knocks cut through the new silence of the room. I spun around, eyes fixed on the door only partially visible from the kitchen, but I could still clearly make out the vague shape of a figure behind the door's frosted glass.

"The conditions for their arrival are specific, you may consider peculiar, but no matter the events preceding and during this guest's arrival, you must remain calm, collected, and most importantly, receptive. Or else we'll have done this all for nothing. Do you understand?" I heard her voice echo, bouncing around in my head. I still didn't really understand, but that really didn't matter anymore. Whatever, whoever that woman was. She had been right. I didn't know how and I didn't know why, but at that moment hearing her words again. I knew what I needed to do. Collecting myself, I took a few deep, steadying breaths, my feet moving on their own, I made my way to the front door.

I froze, grasping for the doorknob, fingers inches away, the tips just barely brushing the brass. I had been here, I had done this before. I remember standing before this door with the same feeling flooding my gut. This moment had happened before, and I had retreated. I don't know how I knew this then, just a feeling, deja-vu. But the temptation to flee to avoid this confrontation was all too enticing. If only I could turn around and pretend none of this was happening. Perhaps then, I would be trapped in time as well. Anything seemed favorable to facing the unknown, waiting just on the other side of that door.

"It doesn't do anybody any good to continue putting this off." I repeated to myself, echoing her words. I opened the door.

There was the fog again. It moved in currents, bulging, twisting, and folding in on itself an impenetrable wall. Impossibly deep but shallow enough for whatever was on the other side to be just barely perceivable. There he was, it was? I'm not sure. He wore nondescript clothes, simple mid-wash jeans, what looked like a white polo under a navy cotton crewneck sweater. The outfit was typical enough and not dissimilar to my own but his face. I couldn't focus on the face; it was a face I was sure of that. I could make out individual facial features, but couldn't see them as a whole. It seemed to undulate as if it were made up of the same fog spilling inside the house. Whether he brought the fog or it brought him, I wasn't sure. Hell, maybe he was the fog. None of that mattered; I was committed to this now. "Stay calm, stay collected, be receptive." A mantra now running over in my head. The ever-encroaching fog was now shin-deep.

"I believe I’m expected." He spoke in a cool and even tone, his voice came from all around me, carried in on the rolling fog. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"

"Oh-ah, Uhm, yes, of course, won't you come in." Fumbling over the words. While doing so, he fell out of focus, dissipating and reforming from the fog. Now behind me, standing in the living room, he took a seat crossing his legs while lowering himself into a chair near the couch - my chair. That was my chair I used to sit in when we sat together, those lazy afternoons. We? Why we? Who were we? I could hear laughter and the sounds of muffled conversation. Spinning around, searching for the source for a glimpse past the veil. Searching until the fog swallowed my vision into the murk, and I was lost in it again. Falling, falling into her arms, an embrace, the warmth of home.

"Tell me about her."

"Her?" I wasn't falling, I wasn't spinning. I was sitting now. The door was still open. I hardly make it out from the couch, the fog pouring through in even greater volume, looking down, obscuring my hands resting on my knees turning them over, I considered my palms. It was growing worse, the fog. The boundaries thinning.

"Can you tell me about her? Or is it too soon?" The man sat, his head in my direction cocked to the side. The activity in what was supposed to be his face increased, the welter struggling to coalesce into something recognizable as a face.

"No. Who? I mean, uh, no I cant...cant remember." I could feel the fog creeping in my head, making it hard to think straight. "Who are you? What do you want?!" Lashing out, I just, just couldn't think. The fog was trying to show me something, and I knew what it was I just needed to remember.

"Why don't you tell me about who you were."

"Who I was? What? Answer my question!"

"You'll get your answer soon enough. Now try and tell me about who you were. That person was so much more substantial than what you are now." The man's face was a torrent of activity. I could hear a building wind, beginning to howl past me, animating the fog whipping it up, stirring it around the room.

"I don't know! I don't think I ever knew! I can't remember! I can't think. The fog, it's too much, I can't take it. The man was standing now, his face a vortex sucking the fog inwards, swallowing it. I could feel it all rush past me, the pressure building pulling on my limbs; it felt like I was floating. Now falling, falling again deep through the fog. The voices louder, I through this time, and I could see us.

I don't know when this was, but there we were. The two of us together in the living room, the fog was there, obscuring both of our faces, but I knew it was us. I was in my chair reading, and I could see her. Just from behind, she had just walked into the room. We were talking I could hear our voices, but couldn't make out what was said. Then she laughed, that laugh the one I had heard earlier, such a sweet laugh. She walked around the room if only I could see her face, but the fog was always there just in the way. Keeping her from me. I wanted to call out, reach for her, but this memory, this moment in time, was lost to the fog. The moment and she was gone. Irretrievably lost, forever stuck beyond my reach, trapped in the muck of the past.

The fog closed, and I fell, fell longer than any other time before I let the fog take me, swallowing me, just to spit me out back on the couch. I sat defeated, more unsure than before. How could I have forgotten so much about myself? How could I have forgotten her? I looked up at the man's face; the fog calmed now his face a serene reflection of my own. No, not a reflection, it was my face. I was the man. "Who was she?" I asked.

"She's not gone, you know, just lost. She's in there, in the fog. It's there for her."

"I need to find her again."

"If we can get her back, we can get us back."

Together we left. I left with the fog. Time still standing still. The moment trapped in the fog. The still beer tipping over. The fire blazing, the pan and vegetables in their motionless fall. The diner for two, made for one, left unfinished.

"Everybody sitting around waiting for the sun to come again"

submitted by /u/EdrehasivarXIII [link] [comments] via Blogger https://ift.tt/32eUtgd

[defectivemecha]

TMNC(at)- A TMNT OC insert Part 1.01

Here we go! I’m starting in the 2003 series Season 1 Episode 2: A Better Mouse Trap, you can watch it on YouTube here thanks to YouTube user Ninja Turtles (Quick thanks to them for providing the full series free-of-charge, the description has a patreon link if you want to send them a monetary thank-you. I probably wouldn’t be able to write this without their channel.) In the way of things, going from visual to text-based media is not easy, so each episode will probably be split into two parts.

S01E02- A Better Mousetrap 1/2

‘I guess I should’ve expected that the loss of the lair would hit the turtles pretty hard,’ I mused, carefully searching through the piles of rubble as Leo, Raf, and I collected the few things that had survived the collapse. ‘It’s hard to imagine becoming so attached to a place.’ I thought, dusting off my hands as Leo loaded an odd canister onto Donnie’s even weirder “sewer slider”. I could dimly hear Leo lament the loss of their home, and Raf’s bitter response. ‘Then again, I can’t imagine living somewhere for five years, let alone fifteen.’

“Yo, Tami!” Raf barked, “You find what you were looking for yet?” “Nah,” I sighed. “Looks like I’m gonna have to skip hand-to-hand sparring until I can make another pair of practice gloves.” You would think that retracting claws would be super easy to control, nope. Just flexing my hands can make them extend, and they’ll instinctively extend even in a practice bout. Leo laughed, “Somehow, I don’t think Donnie will be too upset!” I smiled back, glad that they weren’t too put out to laugh. “It was his turn this week, wasn’t it?” I laughed, picking my way past the last of the rubble as Leo climbed onto the top of the pile of miscellaneous stuff. “In which case, you may be right. Unless Master Splinter chooses to personally correct his stubborn habit of leading with his shoulders.” We all gave a sympathetic wince at the prospect. “Eh, he’ll be fine. Donnie’s smart, or learns faster than the rest of us do at least.” Raf stated as he climbed into the sewer slider’s driver’s seat, “Speaking of the brainiac, time to really test this puppy out. Honestly, Leo, you drive slower than Tami does!” I wrinkled my nose at him, but otherwise let the indirect slur on my driving pass.

“Just remember” Leo cautioned, as Raf started up the sewer slider. “Donnie said the accelerator hasn’t been calibrated yet, so take it nice and sLOWWW!” “Yeee-HAWW!” Typical Raf, he had done the equivalent of jumping to hyperspeed without warning anyone, which left me to grab Leo before he fell off his awkward perch aboard Mikey’s surfboard. “I’d call this a successful field test, wouldn’t you guys?!” Raf shouted over the engine whine and rushing sewer sludge. Once Leo was stabilized, I shrugged off the annoyance, instead choosing to join the guys in another exuberant “Yee-HAW!” as Raf whipped around a corner. I’m not ashamed to admit that I almost wished the new lair was farther away, Donnie certainly knows how to make a smooth ride!

When we got back, Leo was able to greet Mikey with what was probably a very welcome sight. “Hey, good news Mikey!” Leo called, digging out a large box from the bottom of the pile. “Your DVD collection survived!” “Awesome!” Enthused Mikey, easily catching what was probably a fifty pound box as he turned to face the impressive wall of mismatched TVs. “Let’s throw in something light on story and heavy on gory! ‘Cause the video monolith is ready to rock and roll!” ‘The least they could is pretend that took some effort!’ I couldn’t help but joke to myself as I took advantage of a Donnie’s interest in a TV interview with a Baxter Stockman, a pretty well known leader in the tech industry, to grab a soda from the fridge. “A wise man once said,” ‘Wait-’ I dashed back into the living room as recognition set my heart pounding. “Build a better mouse trap” ‘There’s no way- he’s too prominent in the media to risk something like that!’ “and the world shall beat a path to your door.” I slid to a stop just behind the turtles as- “Well I say, let the path beating begin!” I felt a chill veil cut me off from the world, and everything seemed to freeze over, as if a ghost had whispered in my ear.

The pain had finally stopped, but trying to move anything triggered waves of nausea and shock. There wasn’t much point to moving anyway, I could still feel the restraints. The light was still on, too, but it seemed to burn through my eyelids with far more power now, discouraging any attempts to see what was going on. All I could do was lay still and try to keep myself from shivering too much. “-And I say that, with a little more time, I can easily recreate the experiment! With, of course, your continued backing.”

“Man, I’d sure hate to be a rat in this town.” Mikey whispered in muted horror, before the connection clicked as he looked back to Splinter. “Oh, sorry, Sensei.” The accidental pun was enough to tickle a small, dry chuckle out of my throat, even with Baxter Stockman continuing to haunt the background. ‘I can’t be sure without hearing him in person. However, I’m still glad we’re not watching that movie just yet.’ I thought apprehensively, massaging my hands to coax my claws back into their beds while the others prepped for practice.

Weapons practice was a welcome excuse to block out that uneasy thread in the back of my brain, so though it kept worrying over what may have been revealed by that interview, it was distinctly secondary to figuring out the best way to avoid getting bruised. As it was, Donnie got knocked out of the ring with an undignified blow to the backside, Leo got the breath knocked out of him by a powerful strike to the solar plexus, Mikey got tripped with an almost lazy flick of Splinter’s walking stick, and Raf was… Well, he was Raf. He was ticked that some pompous surface-world snake could take his home and call it beneficial, and he let that anger show. That was just part of Raf, he was driven by emotion. Unfortunately, it got in his way during a fight, as it did now. He dashed and swung wildly, forcing Splinter back a step or two, then throwing his Sai knives, thus throwing away his best defense and allowing Splinter to pin him to a pillar. 

“You are distracted, Rafael. You must learn to focus your attacks.” Splinter stated calmly, releasing Raf as he turned to face me. “Yeah, I’d like to focus my attacks on that Stockman guy.” Raf grumbled. I had to fight my way through another wave of anxiety as Raf attempted to “persuade” Master Splinter to allow another trip surface-side. An attempt that was cut off by a stern “Because I forbid it!” At which point, he turned to face me, “Tamara, I think it is time I teach you some more advanced meditation techniques.” ‘Thank the powers that be for Splinter and his ability to be discrete.’ I stepped into Splinter’s meditation room, a space as austere and painfully neat as Mikey’s was hazardous, with nothing more than a pallet and a few things for making tea. “We shall resume weapons training in the morning.” Splinter told the turtles as he closed the door. A muffled taunt could be heard through the door, “Huh, we shall resume weapons training in the morning.” mimicked Mikey. “I heard that.” Snapped Splinter, a few more moments, and the turtles had settled.

“Another attack?” Splinter asked. I sighed and nodded, sitting down beside the small hot plate as Splinter set the kettle to boil. “Call me a hopeless optimist, but I was hoping I was done with the waking ones.” No this wasn’t the first attack, or even one of the worst. Once, I very nearly clawed Splinter’s eyes out, when the scent of antiseptic threw me back into the past. Splinter shook his head as he selected a particularly calming blend, “Such terrors are not so easily overcome,” he said patiently, “traumas such as this are akin to obstacles in a river, it takes years to wear them down, centuries even. In the end, the river may not be able to completely remove it, but may simply change it’s own path to flow around it.” I bit my lip, the idea of living with these flashbacks for the rest of my life didn’t sound inviting, but then, compared with some war veterans I’ve seen, I’m normal. 

“It’s been over a week since the last flashback, was it simply the stress of the past few days?” Splinter asked, pouring the hot water into a teapot and allowing it to brew. I looked down, it was a temptation to go with the easy excuse that Splinter offered, but lying to him here would do no good. “Maybe,” I hesitated, “but- The interview, earlier. Baxter Stockman’s voice, it’s hard to say for sure, but it sounds very similar to a voice I heard after the procedure.” If this shocked Splinter, or even intrigued him, he gave no sign. He simply poured an even cup for each of us as I began a deep breathing exercise to help stave off another wave of anxiety. “I’m…” Splinter paused, “I’m not sure what to suggest other than patience, I understand that it may be hard to convince yourself to wait, but there is no telling what forces Stockman may have under his control. If you are not cautious, you may find yourself facing a far greater threat than you intended.” I laughed, shakily. “Master Splinter, I may be the victim of illegal government experimentation, but I’m still a high school introvert at heart. I doubt I could confront a squirrel on my own right now, let alone a big-time tech entrepreneur with untold security measures and an army of tiny killer robots. I think it’ll be a few more years before I can think about dispensing vigilante justice.” Splinter didn’t reply, merely lifted an eyebrow and sipped his tea as my heartbeat finally stabilized and my rib cage stopped squeezing my lungs. After an hour or so of meditation, I was reasonably sure that the flashback wouldn’t return once I fell asleep. Roughly an hour later, I was curled up in the pile of cushions and blankets that served me as a bed.

To Be Continued...