#it's also a paper pieces in my soda issue

[foxglove-garden]

I went to New Jersey today and decided that I hate it there.

No plastic straws. Anywhere. Just paper straws that melt and feel horrible against my skin.

It's like the entire state hates autistic people. How the hell do you ban plastic straws?

[chaotic-minds-think-alike]

Guess what time it is…….

CENTIPEDE TIME !!! she’s finally real,,,,,,,, based off Scolopendra hardwickei or the Indian tiger centipede

Before I go about the process I just want to say you guys have been soooo incredible and I love reading your reblogs and I love the idea knowing I’ve inspired a lot of people,,, the project, although it was a lot of work and I’m feeling not so great as of posting this, still motivates me to want to make another.

(Art process below)

This was entirely freehanded! I have a lot of experience working in 3D art settings that this part came easy to me but I started with a flat base shaped in the pose I’d like the creature in. I used one whole piece cut from a shipping box and filled in the gaps with tape; you don’t need a single piece for the base but for structural integrity it helps a lot. As you can see here I also cut the legs separate and glued them on using hot glue. The vertical cross sections are to give an early support for the structure of the creature, think about the frames of aircraft or boats. During this part I used a pen to mark the width and height of the previous section to get a gradual flow of shapes.

This next part I wish I got more documentation on but after the vertical cross sections I used soda boxes for the thinner and flexible cardboard to add contour lines along the length of the creature, gluing them on the cross sections. I did about 2 strips of this on either side to fill in the space and then I continued to use soda boxes to fold and shape the top of the creature, gluing onto the strips rather than the cross sections (this part was a mistake but I quickly adapted, no issues happened but it did make it slightly less secure). I also gave the legs vertical cross sections as well to shape them for the masking tape.

The worst part, taping everything. I used tape to further shape it how I wanted but that meant going over parts several times. I used 2 different widths of tape for this for efficiency but it doesn’t matter. The legs were very loosely taped and if squeezed then they’d lose their shape; I didn’t bother filling them in because I don’t have materials for that and I let the paper mache help support them instead. Tape was also used to fill any holes and gaps left by the cardboard skeleton.

The next phase is paper mache of which I haven’t done since 5th grade… I was not confident in this step. I used mod podge and a brush to smooth down the paper. Because I lacked materials I used fast food napkins instead of newspaper which worked totally fine, it just tended to tear a bit easier. Some areas required me to get hands on and I don’t really like the texture during this stage so that was fun (lie). I didn’t do too many layers, one for the body and 3 for the back and legs but some projects might demand more. I used half of a 16oz bottle of mod podge btw so please get more than you think you need.

Finally, texture hell!!! I did a base coat of white spray paint and painted everything else with acrylic. Start with your lighter colors first before doing darker ones! I originally mixed some yellow and orange for the body and realized it was too bright and so covered it with orange instead. It also wasn’t until later I realized I could’ve been smarter with my paint so I skipped over the segments that were going to be fully black, saving the orange for the rest of the body. I wanted my centipede to stand out and not look 2D color-wise so I also used the red for the head and tail to give gradients and edges to the orange segments and legs, later going back with burgundy to further darken them but not too much. For the black segments I also used a very watered down layer of sky blue to give a fake shine and show the intended structure of the segments. Do not be afraid to use your hands! I used mine to smudge my detail paints like the black fade on the legs and the back shading. To top it all off I sprayed a clear coat and punched two holes in the underside to hang it up, using thumbtacks angled upwards.

[just-wrting]

Undercover

Title: Undercover

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Summary: Working on a case, leads to you and Hotch pretending to be a couple to lure out an unsub. While you're aware of the impact it has on your crush, you're unaware of the impact it has on Hotch.

Word Count: 4892

Master List

A/N: This has been my longest sitting Hotch draft so I sat down today and wrote this! It only took me a few hours cause I couldn't stop watching Criminal Minds while writing this. This is also so that people who aren't enjoying the Babysitter series a break. This was also gonna have smut but I want sleep more than that.

You had lots of feelings about Hotch. As your boss, he was good at his job. He was usually level-headed, calm, and direct. He did well in a leadership role and was able to command the team well. On top of that, his voice was smooth and his hands warm. He took good care of everyone, even you. That led to your biggest issue with your job at the BAU, you had started to develop a crush on your boss.

The gentle sound of papers rustling is what makes you realize that you’re not alone. You’ve managed to zone out while on the plane. Thankfully it’s in the last part of the trip, the part where you all mostly read the files on your own and tried to piece things together.

Emily slides back into her seat next to you and pushes a cup toward you. “I don’t think I’ve seen you have a single thing to drink on this flight.”

You take a sip from the cup and gave her a small smile. “Yeah, I tend to be a little squished into the seat by the window and don’t want to interrupt someone’s thoughts. I know no one’s going to be mad, but I’d rather not risk something that could be important.”

“Dehydration will just make it harder for you to focus, (Y/N). Granted the effects take much longer to set in, but the average adult doesn’t drink nearly enough water.”

You look over the table at Reid. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind before I choose my coffee.”

“You sure it’s a cup of coffee you’ll be choosing? I’ve seen you with more soda in your hand than coffee.”

You shake your head at Morgan before looking back at the files in your hand. Morgan had been right. Maybe not about the soda but about the fact that no matter how many cases you did, it wasn’t any easier. Each victim was someone that could no longer be saved. They all had a family that wanted them back, and there was nothing you could do.

—

Once you had landed, Hotch sent you with Morgan to go look at the crime scene. It is your least favorite task, not to mention your weak stomach after a flight, you don’t like looking at the blood longer than you have to. Thankfully, Morgan is good at keeping you calm and is willing to check on rooms first. He’ll always give you a warning, your own little one-to-five scale, on how bad the room was.

“The bodies were found still in bed. The neighbors said they didn’t hear anything so maybe the first thing he did was make sure they couldn’t scream.”

You nod as Morgan walks around the bed. “Based on trauma on the head I’d go with at least one woke up. The husband had an indent on the back of his head. Given that there wasn’t anything left at the crime scene, the killer took it with him.”

“Okay so, the unsub gets into the house and comes upstairs to the couple sleeping. Maybe he makes a noise or something. Husband wakes up and the unsub hits him so he stays quiet.”

“What about the wife? I’ve heard men are deeper sleepers so wouldn’t she have woken up? Plus this isn’t the first murder. Wouldn’t the unsub know better than to make noises?”

“Maybe he killed the wife first. The blood or the smell could’ve woken the husband. Maybe even the wife moving before she died woke him up. It didn’t take him long to kill both of them. Time of death for both was around 3 am.”

“If he was done with the wife, why not just kill the husband right away? Why bother knocking him out?”

With that, Morgan shrugs and looks at you. “I don’t know. Maybe it was easier. All I know is that there isn’t much else here.”

“Do you think this couple was having fun?”

Morgan blinks. “What do you mean?”

“Well for starters, there’s not much in here to suggest that they had intimacy. Besides the blood, this bedroom looks like it was set up for a showing. There are no pictures of them together besides a wedding photo. I doubt you’d find sexual items in here.”

Morgan gave the room a once-over. “I guess so. A loveless marriage that didn’t even have kids. I wonder what kept them together.”

—

“So we’ve got multiple couples murdered. They all have their similarities. The men all have some sort of desk job and made decent money. The wives all did some sort of work with people. For example, wife number one was a teacher, and wife number two was a tour guide for the museum. Beyond that, they didn’t have any other things in common. No common places they went or people they knew.”

Morgan held open the door for you. “Actually, I don’t think any of them had kids. Where are the crime scene photos?”

Emily hands you a file that you pop open and show to Morgan. “They all seem to be set up the same. All master bedrooms with the victims inside on the bed.”

As you flip through them, you start to feel queasy. The pictures still contain the bodies in their posed positions on the bed. The walls and furniture are covered in blood. You do your best to pull your eyes from the bodies. You want to look at what was in the rooms.

“It’s the same in these. There are no signs of love or a happy couple. Not a photo besides the wedding one.”

Hotch gives you a glance and you hold out the file. “What do you think this could mean?”

“Well, maybe it’s all staged. The photo happens to be on the wives’ side of the bed and they all happen to sleep on the right side. While that may happen to be the most common side for the wife to sleep on, it’s all preference. They’re posed in a way that makes them look like they’re in a mattress commercial.”

“So the unsub could be acting out a fantasy with the couples. But what sort of fantasy could it be? He’s not pretending to be the husband, there’s no sexual aspect to it,” Rossi wonders while he rubs his chin.

Emily takes the files back from you. “Maybe he’s jealous. Maybe he doesn’t do well with women or doesn’t have a stable job.”

You awkwardly let your hand fall to your side. Hotch is being a little colder than usual today, but you can’t let it bother you. Just because you want the little “thank you” in his eyes when you hand him something, doesn’t mean anything. You just want what everyone wants. You want his approval.

—

“(Y/N).”

Hotch says your name for what is probably the tenth time. You are too lost in thought to notice the other times, but now you look up. You meet his eyes as he tries to pass you a cup of coffee. Scrambling to move the files around, you shoved the papers around until you had a small space for the cup.

“Thanks! I was sure I was going to have to use all these files to take a nap,” you joked. “Nothing like sitting here and looking through papers to make me excited.”

Hotch raises a brow. “Find anything yet?”

You give a sigh. “Nope. Unlike Reid, I can’t read super fast or remember everything. Going through paperwork feels like hell, but at least today I had a savior to bring me my coffee.”

You make eye contact with Hotch and give him a soft smile. You are so happy that he looks out for you. It makes you feel special, even if you know he does it for everyone. You know that it is stupid, but every little nice thing he does gives you butterflies.

Hotch gives a chuckle. “I get to be your savior? Just for bringing you a coffee?”

“Mhm. You tend to be there when I need something so why shouldn’t I call you my savior?”

He shoots you a quick smile as Morgan walks in behind him. “You don’t say things like that because I’m here to tease you, (Y/N). If Hotch is your savior what do I get to be?”

“You, Derek Morgan, can be my one and only nuisance. Only you tease me about the little things.”

Clearing his throat, Hotch asks, “Find anything yet?”

“Well if by anything you really mean anything then yeah. I found a bunch of random things that make no sense and have no use. If you meant anything by useful, then no, I have nothing. I did come up with a few more ideas about our unsub though.”

Hotch gives you a nod to keep going, while Morgan leans against the door frame. “Well, the first murder doesn’t differ from the others. Normally it's the one where they develop a pattern but there isn’t anything out of place.”

“So perhaps this isn’t his first murder,” Morgan says.

You shake your head. “There’s no other murders in the area that match. It might be his first kill but it’s not his first violent act. Not to mention I thought it was odd that he focused on hurting the men more than the women. Perhaps he had an issue with his parents. Or resentment towards a male figure in his life.”

“Like a child of divorce or perhaps an abusive father.” This time Hotch acknowledges what you are saying. “He might even have a record for aggressive and violent behavior.”

“Well we can have Garcia look into that but right now we don't have much else to go on. Besides knowing the unsub is only half the battle. We need to know what connects the victims. Where could he have met or seen all of these people? There has to be a place or a person that connects all the victims.”

You choose to let Hotch glance at the files on top while you down your coffee as fast as you can. You don’t want to be a downer on the fact that Morgan is right, but you’re starting to feel tired. You aren’t sure if you could handle even another five minutes staring at paperwork.

“Do you think that figuring that out can wait? I mean everyone else is still doing their interviews on the families. That could bring something to the table.” You set the empty cup on the table. “Besides, if I have to look at another file in the next ten minutes I might go nuts.”

Hotch gives you a soft smile. “Sure. How about you go and take a break? Actually, if you don’t mind, maybe you could get something for the team to eat when they get back while we go over the information. I doubt most of them have had lunch yet.”

You stand and stretch. “Absolutely! I’d do almost anything to get out of this stuffy room with all of this paper.”

“Hey cupcake, get me some good coffee while you’re out,” Morgan gives a cheeky grin. “Oh and maybe a donut, since you’re not giving me enough sweetness.”

You roll your eyes and give him a light shove. “Your little tech goddess wouldn’t be happy with you shooting words like that at someone else. So tone it down, Muscle Man.”

Morgan puts his hand to his heart and makes a fake groan. His silly little act makes you giggle. You know it's all jokes, but you can’t help smiling at it. Morgan always knows how to lighten the mood.

“Hotch did you want anything in particular? Since Morgan’s trying to boss me around with his orders, I figured the real boss should have a say in what I get him.” Your hand rests on the doorway. “Feel free to send me a text about it.”

You turn and walk out the door before Hotch or Morgan can say anything else. You can feel your heart race. Telling Hotch to text you feels so personal despite it not being personal at all. To make matters worse, you hear your phone chime with the ringtone you have set for Hotch.

Despite wanting to look at it right away, you choose to wait until you get into one of the vehicles. You feel like if you look while still in the building, it’ll give away your feelings. It's bad enough that Emily gives you crap about it, Morgan would be a nightmare. Besides you don’t trust him to not slip up and spill it.

Thankfully the coffee shop isn’t far, no more than a ten minute drive, and it gives you time to think. As much as you’d like to avoid thinking about the case, you know you should. That and it’s subconscious at this point. Almost every waking moment on a case is spent thinking about the case.

There’s only so many places that people could have in common. Only one family was religious so that rules out church. They didn’t have any of the same sort of hobbies or even work near each other. The only thing they had in common was budget. Similar houses and similar cars made it easy to spot, and Garcia checked on their credit.

After placing the order, you aren’t even sure how you’ll carry that much coffee into the precinct, you take a seat and people watch. It’s nothing special, a few students studying, a mom and child planning on how to best utilize play time, and a younger couple are all that occupy the tables.

The couple appears to be getting along, and you made note of how badly you wanted a coffee date. That’s when a thought occurs. What if the couples had gone on a date? You remember reading about a case that involved a couple murdering to respark their love after a marriage counselor suggested finding something like that.

After making sure that your order is correct and strapping it firmly into the car, you call Garcia. The Bluetooth connects in the car and within seconds Garcia picks up.

“BAU tech genius at your service!”

You smile as you reply, “My tech genius, are you able to see what purchases the couples made the days before their deaths?”

“Do kittens have whiskers? Of course I can. What am I looking for?”

“Can you see if they all went to the same restaurant? My hunch is that since most of them were seeing counselors that resparking romance was suggested so they might have tried to have a romantic date.”

The keyboard clicks away. “I’ll look into it. Now I hope you don’t mind but I’ve got officer sexy calling me so I need to let you go.”

You laugh. “Just make sure if he asks you to do what I’m having you do, tell him it was my idea first.”

“Will do, sugar. Bye!”

With a click, Garcia is gone. You know by the time you get back to the precinct, she’ll have your answer. Which will be amazing since the faster you solve this case the faster you can go back to smothering your feelings.

It’s not that you hate the fact that you have a crush on Hotch. It just makes your job hard. Standing next to him makes your heart pound and when he smiles at you, you know you’re in deep. Not to mention how gentle and warm his hands are, despite being calloused, when he checks you over for injuries.

Thankfully, by the time you walk into the precinct, everyone else is there. J.J. and Ried help you bring everything in. As you pass out the food, Morgan puts Garcia on speaker.

“Alrighty. I looked into an idea that (Y/N) had and struck gold. Almost literally. All of the couples did in fact go on a fancy schmancy date to a place called the Golden Roast the day before they were found murdered.”

“What made you have the idea to look into that?” Morgan asks. “How did you figure it out?”

You glance at Morgan before continuing to unwrap the sandwich in front of you. “Well, multiple of the couples had marriage counselors and I’ve heard that one of the things they tell couples is to try and find that romantic spark. Going on a fancy romantic dinner date seems like it would be a good idea.”

“A place that like that may want us to bring a warrant. We can go and look but we should still have some sort of backup plan given that we don’t have much to go on to find the unsub,” Ried says as he eats his food.

“So let’s have two people go undercover. We send two other people in to talk to the staff about the couples. The undercover couple acts like the victims and we can use them to lure out the unsub.”

You raise your eyebrow at Morgan. Sure, sending people undercover would be the fastest way to find the unsub but that didn’t stop the fact that apparently one person alone murdered two people. Something about it was still bothering you.

“So, we send two people undercover to pretenc like they’re married. Who do we send?” you ask.

Emily gives you a sly smile. “Since you’re asking who’s going, why not you? Pick someone out.”

You quickly realize what she’s up to. “Maybe you should go since you’re avoiding it. Afraid the tension will be too much for you?”

Rossi nods his head. “Well since (Y/N) is going undercover for practically the first time why don’t we send someone seasoned? I’m far too old to pretend to be their husband, but perhaps Hotch could.”

You nearly choke on your coffee at his words. It sounds like a poor plan, granted you wouldn’t mind playing Hotch’s wife, you didn’t want to argue with him. Everyone else seems to be in agreement on the plan, and your fate is sealed.

—

The fancy clothes feel constricting and you do your best to not touch your hair. The atmosphere is far too romantic for you, and you feel so nervous. It takes all of your willpower to stay on task and not just admire how absolutely hot Hotch is.

“Do you know what you plan on ordering?” Hotch asks. “Or are you going to look at the menu all night?”

His voice is a little harsh and it pulls you back to reality. You need to get on his nerves and pick at everything he does. Or at least that’s what Morgan told you after talking to the staff.

“Well, maybe if you knew that this place isn’t what I like, I wouldn’t have such a hard time picking something to eat.”

The waiter offers you a glass of wine and you decline. The one that seems to come preset with the table is going to be hard enough to pretend to drink, and you don’t need more of it on the table. You can hear the murmur of other couples, and you realize that an argument would definitely draw the unsub to you.

“How am I supposed to know what you like? You don’t talk to me much.”

“Maybe if you weren’t married to your job, Aaron, I’d have time to talk to you.”

His gaze is icy and you know that hits a nerve. You’ve both heard before in a relationship. It’s what your job brings. You feel bad about it, but you know this has to be realistic.

The conversation between you and Hotch simmers down as the waiter takes your order. You take the time to scan the restaurant looking for a possible clue. No one sticks out, and you return your eyes to Hotch.

“You know that work keeps me busy. I have a lot of paperwork and it keeps me at the office late.”

You roll your eyes and shake your head. “Sure it’s not one of those pretty little ladies at the office?”

Hotch clenches his fist. “Are you accusing me of something?”

You meet his eyes. You’re doing your best to be convincing as an angry wife. It seems to be working, as a couple of tables are doing their best to look at the two of you. Hotch’s gaze remains cold, and you don’t like it.

“I didn’t say anything. Why are jumping to conclusions if you have nothing to hide?”

You trace the rim of the wine glass. Hotch’s eyes follow your hand as you do this, watching as you pretend to drink. The waiter jumps at the chance to bring you your meal.

The entire meal is silent. You watch each other over the candle light, and you make note about how nervous that makes you. Crossing a romantic candle lit dinner off the bucket list is happening, and its strictly for the firehazard.

“Since you aren’t replying, I’m going to assume you have something to hide.”

Hotch’s fork clatters against plate. “I don’t have anything to hide. Can you stop jumping to conclusions for one dinner? I’m trying to make this work.”

You make a face and push your plate away. “I think I’ve lost my appetite, thanks. Can we hurry this up, please?”

Hotch waves the waiter over and takes care of the check. You watch as his jaw unclenches, and you really want to kiss him. The romantic dinner may help you catch the unsub, but you know it’s making your crush worse.

—

The car ride to the sheriff’s house is silent for the first few minutes. You are making sure to face away from Hotch due to a bit of a hunch. There was a few people who had bumped into you and Hotch. If one of those people is the unsub, they could’ve left some sort of bug.

“(Y/N)? I didn’t mean to-”

You cut him off. “Save it, Aaron. I need some space to calm down. Talking about it isn’t going to help.”

He looks shocked, but keeps driving. At a stop sign, he glances over at you and you give a small smile. You mouth ‘I’ll explain to you later’.

—

You know that you don’t have the bug. You make sure to gently touch the areas that you had been bumped, carefully feeling for any sort device. There’s nothing there, and you know you’ll have to check Hotch. Just how to do it without letting the unsub know.

“You’re right, Aaron. I didn’t mean to jump to conclusions. Here. Let me take your jacket.”

You move closer to him. You slide your hand up under his jacket and up over his shoulder. Hotch is too shocked to stop you and you are able to successfully pull his jacket off. Hidden under the collar is a little device.

“(Y/N)? What are you doing?”

“What do you mean, Aaron? I’m just trying to have some intimacy. It’s called make-up sex if I’m correct.”

“I don’t think-”

You huff. “Fine. I get it. Don’t forget to check your jacket for stuff in the pockets because I don’t want another incident like last time. I’m going to bed, Aaron.”

In the hallway, you start to panic. Did you take it too far? You know that the team could hear what you were saying and that thought makes you die a little inside. At least one of them will be giving you shit about it tomorrow.

—

You’ve been in bed for about four hours before you hear anything. Aaron is in bed next to you, a respectable distance away. The sound of a door creaking leads him to roll over to face you. His hand on your arm would be reassuring, if you didn’t happen to have a gun tucked under the pillow.

You both do your best to stay still as you wait for whoever it is to enter the bedroom. By now, the tem is most likely getting into position. None of the murders have been done with a gun, so you feel less nervous about the unsub entering the bedroom. Besides, Hotch has amazing aim.

The next noise is the bedroom door opening. Gentle footsteps enter the room and walk closer to the bed. Before a hand even reaches the sheets, Aaron shoots up. You grab your gun with one hand and flip on the light with the other.

A man stands at the foot of your bed holding a knife and baseball bat. With two guns trained on him, he’s frozen.

“Drop the weapons.”

The bat clatters to the ground and the unsub starts to back up. You know he’s about to make a dash for it.

“Don’t even think about it! One of us will shoot you before you can even make it through the doorway.”

You and Hotch get out of the bed. Within seconds, Hotch has the unsub pinned against the doorframe, the knife skittering across the hallway floor.

—

After that the case wraps up easily. The man caves easily as the submissive partner looking for the ideal romantic relationship with a woman who was using him to get rid of couples who argued at the restaurant, reminding her of her parents.

The plane ride is quiet. Most of the team seems asleep, and after double checking, you sit down next to Hotch. You slide him a cup of water and fold your hands on the table.

“About the things I said, I’m sorry. Most of it was stuff that my ex had said about me so I figured it would work.”

Hotch gives you a smile. “It’s alright. I also wanted to apologize. I hope I wasn’t too harsh.”

“Well, it worked out in the end. You’re a much better actor than I am. You played the part of a man who loved me and wanted to yell at me at the same time.”

“I wasn’t acting.”

This time it’s you who’s too stunned to speak. You open your mouth and then close it while staring at him.

“Acting about what?”

Hotch looks bashful. “About you. This case has officially made it clear that I have developed feelings for you. In fact, if you’d like, I would like to take you out for dinner properly.”

“I-I think I’d love that. Maybe later in the week. I could use some relaxing after this.”

Hotch unclasps your hands and holds them in his. You can feel your heart race, but give his hand a gentle squeeze. The two of you spend the rest of the plane trip in a comfortable silence, occasionally give each other smiles.

Once you land, you make your way to your car and slide into the driver’s seat. Turning the key leads to a sputter without much else. Of course having an amazing thing happen is immediately followed by something bad happening. Your bad luck stops there, as Hotch knocks on your window.

“Jack happens to be with a friend tonight, if you want to spend the night. Not that you have to of course.”

“I didn’t take you for the type of man that moves faster than Morgan,” you tease. “But in all seriousness that’s better than keeping you up longer than you need to be so you can take me home.”

“Helping the team is what I’m supposed to do. You aren’t a bother to me, (Y/N).”

“Aaron? Can I be honest for just a moment?” He nods as he takes your bag. “I’ve had feeling for you for sometime. Longer than I expected.”

He loads both duffle bags into the car. Just like a gentleman, Aaron holds your door open and closes it behind you. You’re tempted to try to hold his hand, but you let him focus on the road instead.

“Then I suppose I should be honest as well. This case might have been eyeopener, but if you talk to Rossi, I’ve been trying to avoid my feelings for. I just didn’t want it to affect you at work.”

You think back and try to remember if Aaron had shown any signs of liking you. Sure there had been times you had noticed him watching you, or the times he’d stand closer to you than other people would. They were all just subtle signs that as a profiler you should’ve noticed.

By the time you’ve connected all the dots, you’re in front of his place. Aaron lets you in, and sets about setting things down. This includes all the of the stuff you both have to wear as agents and your bags. Your grateful as he takes yours and sets them off to the side as well.

The two of you settle into the couch and curl up together as the TV plays some mindless show. You can’t focus on the TV with the sound of Aaron’s heartbeat in your ear. Not to mention the gentle rubbing of his hand on your arm. It’s hard to focus on anything but him.

The exhaustion hits you, and you find yourself dozing off. Aaron guides you off the couch and lets you fall into his bed. The last thing you process before you pass out is Aaron pulling you into his arms and pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

[einsatzzz]

[OC] Ninomiya Kanako (Kana) - Character Profile

🍎The cold but resolute asocial who's obsessed with her Family! Ninomiya Kanako!🍎

You can go to this link to our Oniyanagi Wiki site for her full character page!

"Kurumi is my twin, so do treat her well. That's neither a request nor a suggestion."

Kana is one of the two 10th generation bosses of the Oniyanagi yakuza family (alongside Kurumi). She is a talented assassin who's fortunately currently under a temporary restriction, so you're totally safe as long as you don't get in her way.

Age: 15 Birthday: December 13 Zodiac Sign: ♐︎Sagittarius Height: 157cm Weight: 46.5kg Gender: ? Country of origin: Japan MBTI: ISFJ Favorite author: Osamu Dazai Favorite food: "Anything sweet will do", Kurumi's cooking

✦•····································•✦•····································•✦

PERSONALITY: As if she's in a perpetual game of poker, she keeps her cards close to her chest with an unreadable expression.

Kana has a stoic demeanor and her expressions are often devoid of any emotion (even in the face of life-threatening situations). When she does show it, it usually means bad things (not for her). She is also a natural liar and can be very manipulative.

She's an old soul who doesn't like wasting time on things that don't matter. She doesn't have any special interests and also doesn't derive any pleasure or regret from her talent, or so what she says. When in truth, she has a large amount of hidden bloodlust that she has trained to keep under control - for her Family's peace of mind.

One of the very few exceptions that stands out from this dull and empty existence is her love for her twin. Kurumi's safety is also your safety.

SPECIALTY: If it's for her Family, there is nothing she won't cut down.

Kana is a swordsman but she also has a special talent for assassination. She can somehow use any item into a murder weapon, no matter if it's a pencil, a soda can, a piece of twig or even a toilet paper. It's also easy for her to hide her presence because her footsteps has no sound (even when she's running in the rain). Out of habit, she sleeps with her eyes open and it creeps a lot of people out.

DAILY LIFE: Despite certain difficulties, she wants the people that she cherishes to live freely and be true to themselves.

Her Family members are quite the pieces of work - a very lonely, miserable and dishonest bunch looking for a place to belong in this fleeting world. And she is also the same as them. Caring for this Family (in her own way) is a responsibility she took on for herself. She promised, after all. So they should just do whatever their heart desires. Because she's not able to do so for herself anymore.

—Within reason, of course. If Yui were to start causing construction work level noise while working on his robot projects at ungodly hours, she won't hesitate to punch a hole through the wall and tell him to keep it down. If some asshole scum of the earth is trying to court Kurumi? Unacceptable. Fortunately, accidental deaths are a common occurrence.

RELATIONSHIPS: A new school doesn't change anything for her...supposedly.

Reborn: No comment.

Tsuna & Lambo: Don't get ahead of yourselves just because Kurumi is fond of you.

Gokudera: His sister's cooking isn't that bad. Skill issue.

Yamamoto: He's a good kid.

Hibari: This bastard's gonna have to graduate from middle school at some point, right?

Dr. Shamal: There are people in this world who deserve to die. But fellow weeds don't die so easily, don't they?

✦•····································•✦•····································•✦

Thank you for taking the time to read this! This character...is kindaaaa complicated, so I have a bit of a difficulty coming up with words for her profile. This character can pack so much spoilers lmao. Anyway, I did my best (lol).

Any questions about her or the story is very much appreciated! For credits, all Oniyanagi OCs are by me and @amiahoshi! While for the intro audio, Kana is voiced by erushaVA and I also got the background music here from MusMus! The audio art used above is inspired from En/kidu's April Fools art lmao:

"Kana outright doesn't care and doesn't think about gender or pronouns."

The next one will be Yui's, but that will be for late-July/early-August since I'll be too busy studying in the coming weeks. I think I'll start on the webcomic once I'm done with Yui's ref sheet.

[pbandjesse]

I just walked into a doorknob and it hurt my arm really bad. Which is the icing on the cake for how stressed I feel. It doesn't help that it's so dark outside. I already hate day lights savings but it's not even cold!! And the election has me so stressed. I'm trying to just not look at much. Like. I just want to throw up it makes me so upset.

I did my duty and voted though. I was very anxious about it. Just going by myself and walking there and worrying. But it would be fine in the end.

I slept okay. I am still struggling with being the right temperature but I did sleep easier. I woke up around 9. And after getting washed and dressed I went downstairs to have a bowl of cereal. My plan was to walk to vote, and then come back here to get the car and go to target and the craft store. It is only a 10 minute walk to the polling place. But I had no concept of how long it would take it vote.

James already let me know that all the polling sites they biked passed on their ride to work were wrapped around the block. And so I made sure I had my headphones, battery pack, a drink, and a snack. I was prepared for a long wait.

But it wasn't actually that bad. I got a little confused walking to the polling place. I was sure where it was because we had voted there before but I was thinking from a driver perspective and I ended up being on the wrong side of the street. Oops. I figured it out when I saw the long line!

The line was in fact around the block but the door started half way down the block so it wasn't actually that bad. I didnt love that I was directly in the sun. Or that there were some people talking at people in line about how to vote. It wasn't near the sign that said it wasn't allowed but I just felt annoyed by that.

I was thinking hard about the questions though. James told me yes on everything but H. And I agreed with them but the one about the inner harbor is hard. I think redevelopment down there is great but I worry about losing the parks. But I also think that having a neighborhood be there makes people want to develope out the area for other purposes. But also everything can't just be condos. It's the same issue I had with Minneapolis. You can't take everything away just to be condos. Everything else I was sure of though.

I got inside the building and got my paper ballot. They had the electronic ones too but the paper line was faster and I didn't mind either way.

I filled out my ballot and put it in the tally machine. I got my sticker. And I felt a lot better.

I walked home. I was still annoyed how warm it was. And between the warm and how it hasn't rained in a month, everything smelled like pee. Terrible.

But I got back home and didn't even go in the house. I just jumped in the car and headed to the store. I was already low on energy and I didn't want to lose momentum.

I got to target and they didn't have the oil I was looking for. But I did get a back up lotion, and some baskets for the baby room. I got myself a little candy and James asked me to pick up bread. Checking out took a bit but that was fine.

I walked next door to the craft store. I got cardstock for my workshop tomorrow. I only have two people signed up but I am hoping for a 3rd. I am hoping for more actually but 3 at least feels like a class.

I got a piece of chocolate while I was there. And decided to go to five guys for lunch. Which was excellent. I should have dumped my flat soda and gotten water but whatever. I am trying hard to stay hydrated. Mixed results. That's actually why I got the chocolate. I like water more when I'm eating bad chocolate.

After I finished lunch I went home. And I put things away. And let Sweetp outside. I was going to sit out there too but the sun was to strong. So I laid on the couch with my chocolate egg and tried to not watch any TikToks about the election.

I eventually would make Sweetp come inside and went upstairs to lay down. I would eventually fall asleep.

It was a fine enough nap. Sweetp laid with me and j accidentally rolled on him but he didn't even move. Sweet baby. My stomach was feeling fine but it is still really hard to switch sides. My hips want me to move but my belly is not a fan.

I am still not feeling very much movement. I get some weird feelings that makes me feel sick like a roll but I also wouldn't call them like kicks. Which makes me frustrated. And worried. I'm really glad I have an appointment on Monday. I am hoping to continue the every other week appointments to hopefully help with my anxiety.

When I woke up I was hoping to be super productive and work in the studio. This did not happen. I felt so disoriented and bad. I was just upset. James was finishing work and would go vote after. And they offered to pick up egg salad for me which is what I was craving. But they wouldn't be home for a while.

I did put my workshop basket together. And opened the backdoor again for some air. But I did not work on any sewing projects or nothing. I just couldn't.

When James got home they were blasting a song about "fuck Donald Trump" which is apparently an entire genre of music. They are using vitriol to deal with their stress. Which is very fair but I feel so sick about it I have asked them to not talk about it to much to me.

James would make me egg salad on toast. And it helped. I was still dizzy but I didn't feel as bad.

James would come upstairs and put the shelves up in the baby room for me before they went to have their own dinner. They got a little worked up when on of the screws for the shelf got stuck and couldn't go in or out?? Stressful. But it will be fine.

I am sitting in our bedroom now. I may go put some stuff on the shelves in baby room to feel like I accomplished something. Just to distract myself.

I truly don't want to think about the election anymore. I just want it to be done. To my non American friends I did my best and let's just really hope that everything works the way we hope.

Tomorrow I have a field trip and my workshop and it's going to be a pretty long day. Thursday will be longer but I just have to hope I don't fall apart. Wish me luck.

I love you all. Let's hope for a better tomorrow.

[ahardisons]

hardison, the most adhd mood ever:

hyperfocuses/hyperfixates and goes down rabbit holes for hours and hours and neglects sleep bc he needs to learn everything and anything that looks interesting - we’re going to a mine for the next con and i need to be prepared for any eventuality that may come up, eliot!

infodumps on everyone bc he’s just so excited to share all the new things he learned; yes you have to listen to me go on about how paper was made back then, yes i used a variety of weird, hard to get and often gross ingredients to manufacture a piece that can pass off as a genuine artifact.

also accidentally talks over people bc he doesn’t realize that not everyone actually is interested that much in said gross ingredients and - what do you mean it’s not interesting? i’m literally hacking history??? anyway, urine was commonly used to —

makes mistakes on things that should be easy to do bc he’s moving at a breakneck pace/working on several things at once or has auditory processing issues - ohhhh, tears of blood, that makes more sense! woops, completely missed check in time for the con bc i was up all night playing wow. lmao, my bad.

constantly moving, pacing, or fidgeting - eliot or parker having to physically touch him to ground him back to earth sometimes. it doesn’t help that he’s constantly downing sugar for the energy bc he’s definitely not getting enough sleep every night bc of earlier noted hyperfixations - i need my soda AND my gummy frogs, i may or may not pass out in a heap later but that’s a problem for the future.

JUST. hardison & adhd!!!

[shyficwriter]

You Laugh, You lose

Guardians of the Galaxy fanfic | Reader x Yondu, Kraglin, Peter

Summary: You're stuck on planet until morning when a part fails on Yondu's M-ship, so Peter suggests a game to pass the time.

Author’s Note: This is the fluffy/funny fic I promised to make up for the two angsty fics before it. Hope you like it! Also shoutout to @badjokesbyjeff where I got most of these jokes from.

Word Count: 3,100

One rule.

You laugh. You lose.

Ok, maybe there were a couple more rules than that, but that was the gist.

It was a game often played between you and Peter, and occasionally also with Yondu or Kraglin on long job travels to kill the boredom.

The goal? Make the other person laugh. If you succeed, you win. You fail, then the game continues until someone loses it and laughs. Winner gets bragging rights, loser usually has to buy a round of drinks for the rest.

The game had originally started out with the one rule, but over time a couple more rules had been added. One of these rules was that stuff like tickling was cheating. You'd think this would have been an obvious rule to start with, but when it was you losing the game to tickles, Peter didn't mind. Less competition, right? But once the tables were turned and he lost a round, then suddenly tickling was "major cheating" and "totally unfair!" So, naturally, now there was a "no touching" rule during the game.

Another rule that needed to be added later was that Yondu couldn't gibberish talk his way to a win. It just gave him too much of an unfair advantage over you and Kraglin, who would crack up very quickly upon being face to face with a deadpan Yondu talking to you in pure nonsense. Peter was the only one of you three not really effected by it, as he found it more annoying than anything else.

Of course, Yondu tried to use his status as captain to veto this rule, but after a vote of 3-1 against the gibberish, he finally relented, stating that, "Aw, fine! I don't need to do that to win anyway!"

However, this didn't stop him from slipping a little in from time to time, always claiming he "forgot."

Sure, Yondu. Sure.

That was pretty much the main rules. The rest were more just guidelines. Like, smiling was allowed, as it didn't count as laughing, but too sharp of an exhale out your nose while smiling could be considered a laugh. Stuff like that.

Today happened to be one of those days where a job had run long, or rather, the trip did.

The job actually went fairly smoothly, to Yondu's surprise. However, when it was all said and done and it was time to leave, the ship wouldn't start.

Luckily, Yondu knew a guy who could fix the problem (just something minor with the fuel intake, but at the same time not something that Yondu could fix without replacing a part he didn't have and certain tools he didn't bring with him.) Only problem was the guy couldn't get the part in until the morning.

So you were all stuck there. Until morning. On a patch of the planet that wasn't within reasonable walking distance of anything fun. Plus it was raining, so you were all more or less confined to the ship for the evening.

Great.

So that's why Peter proposed a game of You Laugh You Lose.

At first Yondu didn't want to, being grumpy about being stranded for the night over such a minor fix and all, but Kraglin managed to convince him in hopes it would lift his spirits.

Now, playing with four people was a little different than one on one. With two people you'd sit facing your opponent and take turns trying to make the other laugh. When starting with four you all sat around the table, each person taking a turn in attempts to get any of the other three to laugh. If someone cracks, regardless of who made them laugh, they're out, and can act as referees, or mildly help crack the others if they choose. Also, instead of the just first to lose owing everyone a round a drinks, all three losers would owe a round, pretty much ensuring the winner 3 free drinks the next time they went out.

Peter sat directly in front of you at the small table, with Yondu to your left and Kraglin sitting directly in front of him. The four of you took a second to fully compose yourselves, making your faces as expressionless as possible, and then Peter started.

He stared you dead in the eye. "Why do bees hum?" he asked, waiting a moment, more for comedic timing than an actual answer, as was how many of the jokes told in the game went. When no one spoke up he said, "Because they don't know the words."

You exhaled slowly through your nose and shook your head, the known sign for, "That the best you got?"

Kraglin's turn now. He took a different approach. He crossed his eyes and in a deadpan voice said, "Wanna hear a joke about a piece of paper?"

Yondu raised an eyebrow, but shook his head when Kraglin continued, "Never mind, it's tearable." Peter made the universal noise for having heard a bad joke.

Your turn. "What did the A'askavariian say after a bad night out?"

"What?" asked Kraglin.

"Wouldn't know. You should ask Peter."

Peter made a scandalized noise. "One time!"

You saw Yondu's mouth twitch, but he quickly recovered. Kraglin took a deep breath and exhaled to keep it together.

Yondu's turn. He told another joke at Peter's expense, and actually made himself crack a smile when Peter protested again. You and Kraglin fought back grins as Peter took his turn.

"What's Beethoven's favorite fruit?"

The three of you shake your heads, though in Yondu and Kraglin's case you were sure it was more because they didn't know who Beethoven was. This was then confirmed by Kraglin asking, "Who's that?"

Peter didn't answer the question, instead letting out a, "Ba-na-NA-NA!"

Peter said this so suddenly and loudly that even Yondu jerked his head back in startled surprise, as did Kraglin, but Kraglin also had to stop himself from barking out a startled laugh. You, however, had to try much harder to keep yourself from laughing. It wasn't even that good of a joke, but his delivery had you biting your tongue to keep it together. Yondu didn't get the joke, but assumed it likely would have been real funny on Terra as he watched you try to steady your breathing just as Kraglin took his turn.

"Ya know the difference between an oral and rectal thermometer? ... The taste."

That one received a collective groan and a look of disgust from you and Peter. Yondu looked almost impressed as he shook his head.

It was your turn again. "I once watched a documentary on how ships are kept together. It was... riveting." You wiggled your eyebrows on the punchline, but only received a mock-disappointed stare from the others at your awful pun.

Instead of a joke, Yondu decided on his next turn to tell a story. "One time we were on a job on Krylor," he began, "and a pretty lil' miss thing caught Peter's eye..."

Peter's eyes widened. He had a bad feeling about which story Yondu was about to tell. "Yondu, don't." he warned flatly.

Yondu only grinned and ignored him "He goes sauntering up to her, trying to be all smooth like.."

"Yondu, seriously." Peter warned again. Again, Yondu ignored him. By now you and Kraglin were already grinning from Peter's reaction alone.

"But the boy ain't watchin' where he's goin', he slips on an empty soda can and falls flat on his face right in front of her. But that's not the best part-"

"I will seriously kill you, ya blue dick!" Peter was getting so red and flustered you had to bite your tongue, as did Kraglin who's nostrils where flaring with the effort.

"It had rained that mornin', and he had been just unlucky enough to land on a puddle, and when he stood up it looked like he'd gone and done pissed himself. I don't think I need to say he didn't wind up gettin' the girl."

That broke Kraglin. He snorted a laugh and Yondu clapped his hands together, shouting, "Gotcha! Yer out!"

Kraglin groaned out a, "I don't know why those stories always get me!" but sat back grinning anyways as Peter buried his scarlet face in his hands whining, "So uncool!"

Peter composed himself and glared at Yondu. "Alright. What about that time you accidentally switched the intercom on while listening to that Brittany Spears music from Terra?"

Yondu just stared at him stonily, no hint of emotion, refusing to dignify the story with a response, although you almost thought you could see his face slightly darken. Kraglin, even though he was out, pretended to be very interested in the table and after an awkward beat you decided to take your turn, because there's no way you'd let yourself laugh at Yondu's music choices if you knew what was good for you.

"SO- Did you hear about the guy whose whole left side was cut off? He’s all right now." you say in an attempt to bring the game back to jokes lest you be the next one they decide to dredge up an embarrassing story about.

Yondu turned his attention to you. "Ya know, I think the toilet has anger issues," he said. You gave him a confused look and he continued, "Whenever I flush it, it completely loses its shit."

You fight a smile. Peter does the same despite himself still being cranky about Yondu's previous story. Kraglin, however, openly giggles at the joke.

Peter quickly steadies his breathing and says, "There were once two guys flying a ship in dead space. One turns to his buddy and says: 'Damn, I can’t find any milk for my coffee.' His friend replies: 'In space no one can, here use cream.'"

You raised an eyebrow in confusion momentarily before throwing your head back with a groan as you got the joke. "That's a terrible joke!" you say, allowing yourself to grin.

"But you wanna laugh, don't you?" Peter teased.

You playfully glare at him and take your turn instead of answering. "Which is heavier, 200 lbs of feathers, or 200 lbs of bricks?"

Now Yondu raised an eyebrow. "They'd weigh the same, kid."

You try not to grin as you shake your head. "Nah. It's the feathers, because you also have to carry the weight of what you did to those poor birds."

Yondu propped his elbow on the table and half-hid his grin behind his hand as he nodded his head in approval, before being mildly startled by the sound of a laugh escaping Peter's gritted teeth. Yondu joyfully slapped the table and pointed at Peter. "Yer out too, boy!"

"Aw, dammit!" Peter cried out, but he wasn't angry anymore. He followed Kraglin's lead and relaxed in his chair knowing he was now able to laugh freely at any corny jokes that came.

Yondu smirks at you. "And then there were two."

Crap. You had really been hoping you wouldn't need to square up against him alone. He was really good at this game, and rarely broke. You, however, always had to fight super hard against turning into a giggly little mess, and usually lost. There was just something about his ability to deliver the jokes with a completely deadpan or stern face that always broke you, but this time you were going to try your best to avoid that.

"I was kidnapped by mimes once." he said, "They did unspeakable things to me."

You inhaled deeply, and let it out slowly, shaking your head as you did so and giving a look that said 'Damn you.' "What’s the difference between an amateur thief and a professional thief?" you begin, continuing after a beat, "The amateur thief says, 'Give me all your money!' The professional thief says, 'Sign here please.'"

Yondu nodded his head thoughtfully. "That's actually pretty accurate. Not sure that's even a joke..." he grinned, almost taunting you at the inability to draw a laugh from him. His turn now. "Two burglars are robbin' a liquor store. One turns to the other an' asks, 'Is this whiskey?' The other replies, “Yeah, but not as wisky as wobbing a bank.” Of course, this last line was delivered with a clean slate of emotion, your weakness.

Fuck.

You had to turn your head away from him as you fought to keep your breathing in check, your lips pressed together, threatening to betray you.

"Ay Ay! No looking away you coward!" Peter laughed, prompting you to face him instead. You flipped him off, your grin finally splitting your face.

"There it is! Come on, you know ya wanna laugh." Yondu teased, grinning at how your nostrils flared when you turned back to glare at him. An unconvincing glare, but it was the best you could manage.

After a couple deep breaths with your hands balled into fists you thought you had calmed down enough to take your turn. "I yelled “COW!” at a woman on a bike once. She flipped me off and then ran straight into the cow..." You raised your hands and shrugged your shoulders in mock exasperation. "I tried!"

Peter laughed while Kraglin and Yondu just shared an amused glance.

"Ya know, I might've actually found that funny... if I knew what a cow was." Yondu taunted, grinning as your shoulders fell in realization.

That made Peter snort, probably for no other reason than he now just had a case of the giggles. But the look on your face was probably part of it. His snort in turn made you grin, his laughter contagious.

This gave Yondu an idea. Grinning evilly he reached over to poke Peter in the side, making the younger man jerk almost violently away with a giggle. Kraglin chuckled as Peter protested, "Hey! You know that's cheating!"

"Nah, you're out, boy. There ain't no rule that says I can't use it on someone that's outta the game." Yondu argued playfully, throwing a look at Kraglin who took the hint and poked Peter from the other side.

"Hey!" Peter whined, the pitiful sound making you cover your mouth to hide your widening grin.

Kraglin stood so he could tickle Peter properly, seeing your amusement at his predicament, and you clenched your jaw as streams of your friend's laughter mixed with uncharacteristically high pitched, "No!"s and "Please!"s poured from his mouth before he managed to escape Kraglin's grip and hop away from the table, clutching his sides and catching his breath. Just in time too, because you were worried that might've actually broken you if Peter hadn't stopped his girly ticklish squeals.

Yondu must've realized this too because he snapped his fingers in mock frustration, and conceded that it was your turn again. In truth he was glad Peter got away as well. The plan had almost backfired on him, nearly having made him laugh at the sight as well.

You had to restart your joke twice, each time having to stop yourself from accidentally laughing so you wouldn't lose. Eventually you finally got out, "Guy with a gun enters a bar... He cries out angrily: 'Who the fuck had sex with my wife?'... A voice was heard in the background, "You don’t have enough bullets mate!”

Yondu grinned, looking down at the table before nodding. "I like that one. It's good." However, he didn't laugh, just went straight into his next joke. "Nurse hands a man his newborn and says 'I’m sorry, but your wife didn’t make it.' He hands it back, saying, 'Well give me the one my wife made.'"

Your eyes went wide. "Yondu!" you scold. "That's terrible!"

"Don't give me that! I can see ya fighting not to laugh."

It was true. As much as the joke was bad, you couldn't help it. There's nothing that makes someone want to laugh more than knowing you can't laugh. Everything's funnier when you can't laugh. You roll your eyes and deliver your next joke. "Why couldn't the toilet paper cross the road? ... It got stuck in a crack."

Peter cracked up at that, moving to sit back down with a warning glance at Kraglin, who held up his hands as a sign that he wasn't going to tickle him again. Kraglin then shook his head with a wide grin as he watched Yondu run his tongue over his teeth and look down as he tried to suppress a smile.

Yondu inhaled. "Damn. Ya almost got me."

You grinned wide and bit your tongue. You almost got yourself.

"Ya wanna hear a joke 'bout construction?"

You let out a dramatic sigh. "You're gonna tell it anyway, might as well."

"I'm still workin' on it."

You smack your hand on your thigh and jerk your head to the side as your breath hitched. "Fuck you!" you say, a wide grin plastered to your face.

Now Peter and Kraglin were laughing at yours and Yondu's reactions more than anything else.

"Ya wanna tap out now? There's no shame if ya do." Yondu teased.

"Fuck you." you say again. "What did the plumber say to the singer?" You cursed yourself for not being able to come up with a better joke, but delivered the punch-line anyway. "Nice pipes."

Yondu didn't even crack a smile a that, not that you blamed him. He asked, "What's the difference between a good joke and a bad joke?"

"I don-"

"TIMING!" Yondu shouted so suddenly that you jerked back and a startled laugh finally broke free from your throat, and once it was out it was like a dam had collapsed- you couldn't hold back the torrent of giggles that had built up for so long.

"Dude! You can't just yell stuff out like that!" you scold, still giggling as you held a hand to your heart, "You scared me!"

"Made ya laugh though, that's what counts." he grinned. He stood up from the table and stretched. "Looks like I win." He ruffled your hair and you swatted him away playfully.

"One of these days I'll get you!" you say.

"Then why don't ya put your money where your mouth is," Kraglin laughed, Peter nodding with him, saying, "Yeah, you two face off again. Right now. Loser pays for everyone's drinks for the night next time we go out."

Still giggly you glance from Peter and Kraglin to a smug looking Yondu standing and grinning at you with his arms crossed.

With a giggly sigh you bow your head and concede. "I can't. I'm not ready."

Yondu lets out a chuckle and pulls you in to give you a noogie. "That's what I thought."

[belliesandburps]

Hey, this is the same anon from before who asked if you had any belly or burping headcanons for Luffy from One Piece. I heard that Tumblr has been eating asks so I'm not sure if that last one went through.

That’s a tricky one because, honestly, Luffy’s ACTUAL canon is...well...

Buuuuuut, what the hell.  :P

Monkey D. Luffy (One Piece)

Kinda goes without saying, but Luffy is...like, quite possibly, the most gluttonous anime character ever put to paper.  Like, seriously, he LIVES to eat and is stuffing his face to the brim every other episode.  I mean, hey, when you GOT a body made outta rubber, why the hell NOT use it, right?  ‘XD

Luffy’s stomach capacity has to have inspired half of the exaggerated belly bloats you’ll ever see online.  He’s an anime cartoon pirate.  Like, he will literally put his lips around a water breach and just chug ALL of the water to the point where his belly becomes a massive, sloshy boulder.  One that leaves him waterlogged and extra burpy.  And don’t take my word for it, kids...

Not only that, but he even gorges himself for the sake of summoning some of his stronger “modes,” like one where he becomes super bulked out for hand-to-hand combat after being a literal balloon boy...he’d be MUCH higher on the kink-list if the proportions weren’t so damn ridiculous, and all the burps in the actual anime were actual burps and not just sighs other people call burps.  C’mon, Japan.  You can do better than that.  ‘XD

I don’t think Luffy is capable of having a bellyache, because, well, he’s literally eaten about six times his bodyweight in food and turned into a bloated, rubbery mattress.  But that said, he TOTALLY loves having his belly rubbed.  Whether he’s stuffed or even on an empty stomach, he’s incredibly fond of having his rubbery flesh stroked all over.  He loves physical affection and has a very delicate stomach that will always turn him into putty when stroked gingerly.  And when he’s nice and full, he loves playing with his belly, like sloshing it around and snickering at the feeling of all the contents in his gut sloshing and gurgling away in his gut.

Kinda goes without saying but Luffy’s favorite meal is meat.  Like...ALL of the meat.  He is almost literally a bottomless pit and will chow down.  Though, frankly, leave food of ANY kind around Luffy and it’s going straight down his gullet...

Luffy’s a rubber man, it stems to reason he would have noooo issues swallowing anyone whole, needless to say.  His jaw stretches wide enough to swallow a person whole just when he’s exasperated.  So imagine if he did it on purposes.  XD

Luffy’s belly is, canonically, incredibly noisy.  In the show and manga, when he’s hungry, his stomach rumbles loudly enough that people think it’s an earthquake.  It sloshes incredibly heavily when he drinks a lot, and gurgles up a storm when he’s overstuffed or suffering anything resembling indigestion.

Luffy’s favorite beverage, since he isn’t quite old enough to drink, is soda.  And like with everything else, when he downs a soda, he chugs it in record time.  Aaaaand much to my delight, often has the kinda results it WOULD have when someone downs all that fizzy goodness all at once the way Luffy does:

^Literally him letting out a huge burp right after chugging an entire soda down all at once while Zorro is living it up with a stronger drink next to him.

One of my favorite aspects about Luffy besides his relentless exuberance is he’s also one of the burpiest anime characters I think I’ve seen yet.  There’s a scene where he’s on Hancock’s ship after stuffing his face with as much meat as he can cram down his gullet at once, that ends with him stuffed, bloated and patting his fattened belly contently.  And as soon as he’s told he needs to keep it down because he’s a stowaway, he responds by burping loudly and giggling to himself.  (Would’ve been infinitely better if there was at least an actual burp accompanying the action, buuuuut anime is weird about that sorta thing sometimes...)  Stems to reason that Luffy can belch like a champ.  Given how much he pigs out and how much water or soda he chugs, or how rapidly his body digests anything he consumes, he’s just a very naturally gassy straw hat pirate.  He’s quick to get into burping contests with Usopp and Brook (two other gluttonous, burpy pirates...go figure, the only one who ACTUALLY burps in the anime is the freakin’ skeleton ‘XD) and is so childish and boastful that he’ll always, without fail, punctuate the completion of his meal with a massive burp.  And his response is either to snicker, boast that he can let out a WAY bigger one, or sigh with relief and give his bloated belly a few hearty pats of satisfaction.  He also has no embarrassment or shame.  There’s literally a scene when he’s a prisoner with someone else, both of whom were fattened by an eating contest they just had in prison.  And when confronted by the warden, Luffy’s only response is to let out a MASSIVE burp and revert back to his regular form so he can fight.  What more need be said?  ‘XD

Luffy’s body is weird, but I like to think he’s probably prone to getting hiccups often.  He eats so fast that something is inevitably bound to get lodged down his literally-rubbery gullet the wrong way.  And that can cause his esophagus to hitch up and start making him hiccup a lot.  His hiccups are high-pitched and usually jerk his entire body.  And when he gets them, he’ll always try to down a whole bunch of water to settle his stomach.  All that accomplishes is getting his belly nice and waterlogged, causing him to let out more “hiccuUURRRP’s” instead.  And with each hiccup, his belly bounces, warbles and sloshes about all at once.

Again, I love the idea of Luffy a lot, and would adore him for kink purposes if there were just a few more instances of natural bloating from him.  But everything about One Piece is so insanely exaggerated that MOST of the times, when Luffy gets bloated, it’s one of those instances where the lad is more belly than person.  And I’m sorry, but that’s just too damn ridiculous, even for me.  XD

[bidoldaccount]

Grow As We Go - Five

Word Count: 1,626

ONE ; TWO ; THREE ; FOUR

Read on AO3

Read on Wattpad 

Dean is the father.

After two home visits, a lot of dealings with the court, a matched paternity test, and a lot of sympathetic looks, Dean is biologically, and most important, legally, Jack's father.

Dean kisses Cas hard when everything is done, and they both kiss Jack's cheeks. Bobby gives Dean two weeks off of work, and Cas is only in school for another week before spring break, so they spend their time cooped up in the apartment, getting to know themselves as parents. Getting to know Jack, Jack getting to know them.

"You are killing this whole tummy time thing, dude, absolutely shredding it. Look at me, look at daddy," Dean smiled, tilting his head as Jack tried looking up. He smiled when he saw Dean, his knees wriggling like he was trying to go for Dean.

Dean is the best at playtime, they find. He does the best car noises, he does a killer Elmo impression, and he can make Jack smile by simply raising his eyebrows.

Castiel is better with stories and sleepy time. He'll lay Jack on his chest, skin to skin, and breathe as evenly as he can while reading a book. Jack goes instantly still when Cas starts to speak, like a switch goes off and he's boneless. Dean watches in amazement most nights, when Jack is fussy and hates everything and doesn't like skin to skin contact with Dean, he'll go quiet in Castiel's arms, just rest against his skin and breathe.

Two nights before Dean has to go back to work and Cas has to go back to teaching, they sit down in the living room while Jack sleeps in his crib. Dean places his head in his hands and he's crying but Castiel isn't sure why. Cas sits behind him for a while, just laying his head on Deans back, waiting paitently until he's ready to share.

"This is so unfair to you." That is not what Castiel would have expected, but he doesn't let his surprise show. "A baby shows up on my door step and suddenly you have to co-parent with a guy you've only been with for a year. I can't imagine how hard this must be for you. I probably made you feel pressured to stay with me, God, Cas," Dean pulls at his hair as he tried to soften his cries. Cas picks his head up and looks towards Dean with furrowed eyebrows.

"What? Dean, if I didn't want to be here then I wouldn't be. I don't feel pressured to stay, I'm staying because I love you," Castiel said.

"But what if I change. Parenthood changes people, doesn't it? What if it makes me someone that you don't like. Someone that you'd rather not be with? I'm not going to have any time between working and Jack, how am I supposed to be a good boyfriend while trying to be a father?" Dean hiccups, his chest tight.

"Hey, honey, look at me," Cas only pulls out that nickname on special occasions, so Dean glances up rather quick. Cas scoots over so that he's sitting at Deans side. He brings his hand up to wipe away the tear tracks on Dean's cheeks. "I love you, okay?" He whispered softly. "I love you as a boyfriend and I'll love you as Jack's father. You don't have to be alone to be a good father and you don't have to be childless to be a good boyfriend. We're going to figure it out, because that's what people do when they have kids. They change and they grow, but they don't have to do it alone," Cas shakes his head, wiping away more tears.

"I'm so scared, Cas. What if I mess something up? With you or with Jack? What if I screw him up?" Dean whispers.

"Screwing up is apart of the deal. A little trauma never hurt nobody," Dean laughs wetly. "Kidding, but seriously, parents make mistakes, it's apart of the process. For what it's worth," Cas leaned his chin on Dean's shoulder, his forehead at his temple. "You're doing a great job and I think you're an amazing father." Dean closed his eyes and dropped his chin to his chest.

"I'm so happy you're here, Cas," he said.

"I wouldn't want to be anywhere else." Dean cries a little bit more, then Cas decided that their pity party is over. He grabs two sodas from the fridge, and sets out a piece of paper on the coffee table between them.

"Okay, I have to be at school by 7 and the latest I leave is 3:30, so if you drop Jack off at daycare before work, that puts him there from 10 to 4, that's 6 hours, with $15 an hour, we'll be looking at roughly $450 a week. It might be slightly lower because we have a fixed schedule and I get out early on Wednesday's, but that's a rough guess."

"I already have a headache," Dean grumbled.

"I've already calculated what we pay in rent, electricity and utilities, also factoring in Jack's necessities, a monthly food budget, daycare, our Netflix subscription, estimated gas expenses, our phone bills, etc. This is what we're looking at left over," Cas slides the paper to Dean and Deans eyes widen.

"Wait, are you serious? I thought it would be a lot less," he said.

"You make good money at the garage on top of what you earn from consulting, and I earn a good amount from teaching and translating," Castiel said.

"Wow, I guess I just never paid attention to it before," Dean said, still staring at the paper.

"We've never been hurting for money," Cas shrugged.

"Then why are we living in this shitty one bedroom?" Dean asked.

"Because then Jack would have been left on the doorstep of someone else's home while we were in a cozy two bedroom?" Cas shrugged.

"Ha. Ha," Dean rolled his eyes. " I'm serious though, do you think we should move? We can certainly afford at least a two bedroom," Dean said.

"I mean, I thought about it even before Jack but I thought it was too soon, now that he's here though, we could use the space," Cas said.

"Okay, next on the list, find forever home," Dean widened his eyes dramatically. Cas huffed a laugh, rolling his eyes.

"A forever home might have to wait a few years," he said.

Castiel was right, as he always is. Before Jack turns seven months, they sign a lease for a two bedroom apartment. Dean has an anxiety attack on their first night because he's afraid they won't wake up if Jack cries. It took Cas an hour to talk him into bed, and twenty minutes to make him stop trying to get out. Dean wakes up at 6am and he startles, flying out of bed to make sure Jack didn't hurt himself through the night. When he busts into his room, Jack is still soundly sleeping and Castiel shakes his head with a fond smile.

When Jack turns three, Dean stumbles upon a cheap house in a good neighborhood. It was nearly run into the ground because of foundation issues, no one wanted it, and the couple was desperate to sell. It took very little convincing from Cas to purchase. Dean tore the entire house down and started from scratch. It was almost nine months before Dean allowed Cas and Jack inside of the shell of their home, pointing out rooms and different features. Cas had cried the first time he saw it.

It was shortly after Jack turned four that they officially moved into the house. Two stories, painted a soft yellow that was easy on the eyes, blue shutters, a white picket fence. A very spacious garage. Cas pointed out everything that Jack helped pick out, like the granite countertops, and the wallpaper in the hallway.

"Do you like it?" Dean asked nervously once Jack was sound asleep in his new bedroom, the walls a soft blue with a space theme. He wrapped his arms around Cas' waist as they stood in the foyer, the living room the right, the stairs to the left, kitchen directly ahead. Cas leaned his head back with a furrow in his brow.

"No, I hate it, I want a home that my amazing boyfriend didn't build," he rolled his eyes as he turned in Deans arms. "Are you kidding?" He wrapped his arms around Dean's shoulders and kissed him softly. "I love it. You did such an amazing job, I can't believe you built this," he whispered.

"You and Jack deserved a home," Dean shrugged as he stepped away, hands in his pockets. "You deserve the world for being so incredibly amazing and supportive all these years," Castiel gasped as Dean lowered himself onto one knee, pulling a small velvet box from his pajama pants. "As I was building this house for you and Jack, I thought a lot about our life together. I thought about when Jack would get so calm by just laying on your chest, and the way you cried on his first day of school, and our first date when you spent twenty minutes talking about bees. I can't imagine my life without you, without you being right there next to me, so, Castiel Novak, will you marry me?" Castiel breathed out shakily as he nodded.

"Yes," he pulled Dean back up to his feet, grabbed the front of his shirt, and smashed their lips together. Dean couldn't stop smiling as he slipped the ring onto Castiel's finger.

"I love you so much," Dean said with a bright smile.

"I love you too," Cas sniffed as he pulled Dean into him, hugging him tightly.

[sutverentavuk]

Small Business Ideas as well as Changing the World

Wonderful small companies are started by fantastic local business ideas. Look into any service anywhere and you will certainly discover somewhere in the growth there was an idea by someone, who found a solution for it, began a company, developed business, and profited others by it. you can find out more advice https://www.techtimes.com/articles/249715/20200518/how-inventhelp-gets-new-inventors-onto-the-right-path.htm

I am an "idea" person. Why? Because ideas are the genesis of all things and all points of service. If the idea is good enough, and also the private acting on the idea suffices, the mix of ideas and activity will certainly tremble the globe.

Probably among the most fulfilling things for me to do is to read tales regarding people who accomplished business success. Every effective service originated from a person, man or female, with an idea that they would certainly become a principle, which concept was become a product and services, which product and services developed a company.

There are many motivating tales of exactly how companies were begun and also created. The majority of them are fascinating checks out because they help to nurture in my mind the power of small business ideas, and also exactly how those ideas can affect the world.

One of my faves is the tale of Madam C J Pedestrian. She was birthed in 1867 in the deep South, time as well as the location of severe discrimination and disadvantage for African Americans as well as women. Both her parents were servants, and also of her 5 brothers or sisters, she was the firstborn cost-free.

Yet her problems in life did not end there. Both of her parents died, and also when she was only twenty years old her husband died, leaving her with a two-year-old little girl. She transferred to another state to be with her brothers, and there started to establish an idea that had been generated in her years before ...

Madam C J Walker had wed once again, this moment well right into her thirties when she started trying out a product to take care of loss of hair and scalp issues typical to women of the moment. At some point, sustained by her interest as well as ideas, she established many products of her design as well as started taking a trip with her other half to sell them throughout the USA. Within a couple of years, she had developed a college to educate hair culturists and also even her production center to produce her products.

Madam C J Walker ended up being the very first self-made woman millionaire, and also this with numerous and also significant downsides. Her tale is a testament not just to getting rid of significant probabilities of achievement but the power of an idea. Her local business ideas, reinforced by her stamina and ingenuity, developed into a massive advantage for countless women of her time and beyond.

Many people have excellent ideas. Possibly there is nothing more common than terrific ideas. The trouble is not an absence of ideas; it excuses individuals supply not to act on them.

The whole soda empire came from a single idea, created right into a dish, as well as damaged onto a piece of paper and also hid in a person's pocket. And that idea would have stayed a simple "idea" for life, had not a person took the opportunity, and acted upon it to see what would occur. They did, as well as the world is different for it.

To produce a successful service, there has to be an idea, yet not just any type of idea. It has to be unique, never thought-of or acted-on idea, one that fills a requirement or a need of many people, as well as can be developed and produced and marketed.

Just how to approach small organization ideas to bring them to fruition? Right here are a couple of questions that must be thought about:

1. Is the idea brand-new?

If it currently has been done or is commonly recognized, it most likely isn't a unique idea worth pursuing, unless the idea is a new spin on an existing one, that would significantly boost it.

2. Is the idea affordable?

Here goes the sensible requirement: an idea is just as good as it is reasonable or feasible. Yes, it would be great to have a product that, say, makes the front lawn never grow more than the wanted length, while staying green as well as healthy. But is this possible, and even functional? There are zillions of ideas around and also plenty of them get established to a factor but never see the light of day since they are not reasonable: the expense or trouble to create them is far higher than the advantage.

3. Is the idea in my field of interest or knowledge?

Is the idea in my field of passion or understanding? To establish tiny business ideas successfully it stands to reason the programmer needs to recognize the product or at the very least have a serious passion for it.

[cafedanslanuit]

RFA with a MC that has dyslexia

This is the last request I had saved! It’s by @gompereatsall​, who sent me this:

The other is where MC has dyslexia (and dropped out of high school, so she doesnt even have a high school education) and she struggles to keep it s secret from her S/O

I ended up having no ideas for Jaehee :( Since it was already long, she’s skipping this particular headcanon. I hope you liked it, sending hugs!

Yoosung

He was really, really excited when he learnt you were the same age as his. His excitement decreased a little when he realized you weren’t enrolled at SKY, though.

He asked for your major, but you decided to keep it a secret. Since he didn’t want to share his either, you joked you would tell him about yours when he told you about his.

It was all fun and games until he told you what his major was.

You tried to hide for months, even going to the extent to say you had online classes so that’s why you were almost always home.

Until that night came.

You had decided to spend the quarantine together and Yoosung was having trouble with the whole online classes idea. You had just woken up and were still half-asleep when he came to the bedroom to ask for your help, since his classes started in ten minutes and he couldn’t get the platform to work.

“MC, I really need your help, please, get up,” he asked, shaking your shoulder gently. You groaned and rubbed your eyes.

“Help you how?”

“I don’t know how to use this platform, and maybe it’s the one you’re using too. Please, they will count me as absent if I’m late!”

“Hmm, how would I know how that works?” you mumbled, turning around and trying to get to sleep again.

“Because you… take online classes,” Yoosung reasoned. He pouted, his eyes going around the bedroom. “Right? You told me all your classes were online”.

The realization you had just messed up made you sit up on the bed, startled.

Yoosung was looking at you confused and you realized there was no way to explain what you had just said. You just looked at him, feeling incredibly small in your pajamas, his confused expression hurting you. You bit your lip, and opened your mouth to talk, but Yoosung cut you off.

“Can we… talk about this later? I’ll call Seven for help”

You nodded as he shut the door behind him. You let yourself fall on the bed again. You knew how much he hated secrets and you couldn’t believe you had done well for so long before letting him find out like this.

A couple of hours later, you went to the kitchen and found him there, drinking a can of soda as he looked at his phone. You took a deep breath and asked him to sit down on the couch with you so you could explain.

Once you told him the real reason behind your lie, his anger seemed to go away for a bit. You explained you were so proud of him for going to school, and that you didn’t want to share your experience with the education system, since you felt it had failed you and your dyslexia diagnose. SKY was a tough uni to get into, and knowing he studied there, you didn’t want him to know you were actually stupid.

Yoosung immediately hugged you tightly against his chest.

“You’re not stupid! Never say that again,” he said, pressing a kiss on your forehead. “It’s not like only smart people get into good unis. The exam is design in a way only with good memory pass it, intelligence has nothing to do with it,” he assured you. “I’m not really smart either. But you’re definitely not stupid. You had something that got in the way of your learning! Your school should have helped instead of letting you drop out”.

The next days, Yoosung took his time in getting educated about everything and anything that had to do with your diagnose. He found out all the ways he could help and tried his best to make your life a little bit easier. He always asked you what else did you need and what else he could do to fill that need.

And, honestly? That level of love and support was everything you needed

Zen

You were watching a series with him after a long day of work. The protagonist and their love interest went to a classic American prom and had the mandatory slow dance scene.

“I guess having something like prom would have been fun. The guys at my school went on a trip” Zen commented. You stayed in silence for a moment, not knowing what to say next. You just hummed and nodded, your eyes fixed on the screen. The episode ended and as the credits rolled, he turned to you again. “How was your prom? Who did you go with?” he asked with a teasing smile.

“Oh-- it was nice,” you answered. “Hey, I’m making some coffee for myself, you want anything?” you offered, getting up from the couch and heading to the kitchen.

“Hey! Why don’t you wanna tell me who did you go with?”

“It’s not important!”

“Oh, that means you did go with someone!” Zen reasoned, following you. “Babe, it’s okay, it’s not like you are still dating or seeing that guy anymore,” he said, his expression falling shortly after. “You’re not, right?”

“Of course not!” you huffed.

“Right, sorry, my mind went somewhere really dangerous,” Zen apologized. “So, why won’t you tell me about your prom? C’mon, I wanna know”

You sighed and turned around, finally facing him.

“I didn’t have one,” you muttered. “I didn’t finish high school”

Zen furrowed his eyebrows. “Oh,” he said. “Why… why didn’t you tell me? You know I also dropped out.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t do it for… you know, your reasons. You had to make a choice to further your career and you were also going through issues. I was just stupid”

“You’re not stupid, what are you talking about?”

“I… I had a lot of trouble at school. I have dyslexia and it made school so damn difficult, I was about to fail the year so I… dropped out. My drawings were somewhat good so I became a freelancer but yeah, my stupid brain didn’t let me have a prom”

“Okay, you have to stop calling yourself stupid. You’re an amazing artist! C’mon, don’t be so hard on yourself,” he asked, pulling you to his chest and hugging you.

Two weeks after your conversation, you got home after delivering a project and found Zen’s apartment filled with balloons, a small disco ball on a table, soft music playing one of your favourite songs.

Zen came out of the window wearing a light blue shirt and black pants, a slightly loose tie around his neck. You smiled when you saw him and left your purse near the door. As soon as you were in reaching distance, he twirled you around and then set his hand on the small of you back, his other hand taking yours. He started slow-dancing with you, his soft eyes fixed on you.

“Where did all this come from?” you asked with a grin, swaying your body to the music.

“I guess this way we both get to have a prom dance like the ones we see on TV,” he shrugged. “I even prepared punch, it’s in the kitchen.”

“Is it spiked?”

“You know me too well, babe,” he laughed, pressing a kiss on your forehead.

Jumin

Jumin had noticed you didn’t tell him stories about your school. He would tell you all about his time with V, but you never shared stories of your own. He didn’t mind it at first but was curious.

For a moment, he thought you might feel uncomfortable since he went to a fancy private school and you didn’t, but when time passed and you easily accommodated to his lifestyle he realized that wasn’t the case.

Jumin is a very observant man, so he also noticed how you had trouble reading. He had never mentioned it, figuring you hadn’t put on your contacts lenses.

That night when he left work and came to you, something couldn’t leave his mind. And of course, you noticed the tiny tell-tales he wasn’t as relaxed as he usually was when you two were together. You both were sitting on the sofa in silence when you couldn’t hold it any longer.

“What’s going on, love?”

“You know I hate bringing up work when we’re together, but…” Jumin sighed. “Assistant Kang wrote the speech I’m supposed to give at the gala I told you about and I just can’t see why I don’t really like it. I can’t even tell her to do it again because I don’t know why is it about it that I dislike,” he paused and took out a piece of paper from his briefcase. “Would you take a look at it? Maybe you can help me pin what’s wrong about it”.

You nodded and took the piece of paper from Jumin’s hands. He watched you as you scrunched your eyebrows, but kept your eyes focused on the paper.

“Do you need me to hand you your contacts?” he offered.

“I have them on,” you muttered, trying to concentrate.

“Maybe those aren’t working for you anymore? I could have the best optician see you tomorrow morning”

“No, I just-- I have-- Give me a minute to try and read this,” you tried to explain. Jumin looked at you confused. “I have dyslexia, so I have a little trouble reading long texts. But give me more time and I can finish this”

“I didn’t know,” Jumin said. He stayed in silence for a moment. “Did that make school difficult?”

He noticed the way your hands tensed. “I… I didn’t finish high school. Couldn’t keep up”.

And that was the moment everything clicked for Jumin.

He gave you the time you needed to finish reading and then listened to your comments about it. Knowing it was a delicate subject, he didn’t make further comment on it, but rather tried to be more affectionate than ever that night.

In the following days, he asked you if you wanted to get your high school diploma. He offered the help of a therapist that could help you and a tutor if you needed one. If you didn’t want to get a diploma, he still offered the help, as he knew it could still be beneficial for you.

He would ask a lot of questions about it on how he could make life easier for you. Do you prefer audio messages rather than texts? Because he would ask Saeyoung to change the RFA chat if needed.

He just wanted to know he would try and give you anything that could make you feel as happy as he was with you.

Saeyoung

Working this under the theory that Saeyoung has ADHD.

Neurodivergent team!

SILENCE, NEUROTYPICAL is your favourite catchphrase tbh

You try to help each other as much as you can! You do your best to help with his cluttering and remind him when he should get some rest. You also played a big part in changing his eating habits.

He also makes sure to add a feature for voice messages. Jaehee hates it because she is always working or listening to Zen’s recordings and it’s not practical. But Saeyoung uses it all the time and has upped his prank game sending the most annoying audios to everyone. But you know the only reason why he added it was to make your life a little bit easier.

He offers to pay for a therapist if you want to exercise your reading skills.

One late night, as you both had just finished watching a movie and were cuddling on the couch, you confessed you hadn’t been able to finish high school due to the dyslexia. You told him you hadn’t told him before because you were ashamed of it, and would appreciate if he didn’t tell anyone either. You didn’t want them to know you didn’t have a diploma.

“You know I can hack your school system and get you a diploma, right?” he asked. You chuckled and shook your head.

“Thank you, baby. There’s not need, though”

“If you want to try again, it’s okay,” he said, kissing your cheek. “And if you don’t, that’s okay too. Just whatever you decided to do with it… remember you won’t have to do it alone this time”.

[zara2148]

Fethsteel Fic: Not Good Enough (For You)

So here we go, my take on how Fethry Duck joined F.O.W.L. and met Steelbeak. Less warning stuff for this one, mostly just implied abuse, though it’s clear Steelbeak has not had a pleasant history. Also, both he and Fethry have some self esteem issues... and there’s not exactly spoilers for “Lost Harp of Mervana,” but the new intro takes place right after it.

Also on AO3. Make sure leave kudos and comments there. I enjoy the feel of being applauded.

Huey was placing Isabella Finch's journal back in Uncle Scrooge's study when he spotted the tin can phone there, now connected to nothing. Scrooge held on to everything in the mansion, even seemingly useless things, on the grounds that it may one day come in handy again. 

It was one reason why Trash Day could be such a nightmare, though Scrooge was starting to learn how to let things go...

Huey found Della and Donald unpacking their gear off the sub, hanging up suits and boxing equipment until it was ready to be used again. "Uncle Donald? Mom? Do you know how to get in touch with Cousin Fethry? I think he'd love to hear all about Mervana."

"No, sorry, sweetie. I haven't heard anything from him since he rode off on the back of that... giant... fish..." Della shuddered in remembered revulsion.

"Mom, it was a krill."

"A fish is still a fish by any other name."

"You also seemed fine with Mitzy at the time."

"I was too busy thinking about all the Moonlanders we had to beat up."

Donald sighed and turned away from a crate to answer Huey’s question. “I haven’t heard from him either since then.” He shrugged. "But that's normal for Fethry. He either calls every five minutes or he gets so wrapped up in something we don't hear from him for six months."

"Doesn't he have a cell phone we could call?”

"Knowing Fethry, it would just get dropped in the ocean." There was a reason Scrooge only trusted Fethry with a tin can after one too many busted phones.

Huey’s beak twisted in discomfort. “But what if he got in trouble? What if he needed our help?”

Donald let out a breath, more frustrated with himself than anyone else, even Fethry. He knelt in front of Huey and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Fethry is…” Cuckoo bananas really hadn’t been the right thing to say to Huey, not when Donald could see the similarities between the two of them. Unsure how else to finish that sentence, he tried again.

“Fethry is who he is. But he’s also a grown adult capable of making decisions and taking care of himself. If he ever needs us, he knows where we are.”

Della grinned proudly. “He’s a part of the Duck family. Surviving is what we do.”

Uncle Donald and Mom weren’t wrong about that. Cousin Fethry had survived alone in a collapsing sea base for years. He knew the Junior Woodchuck guidebook from cover to cover, just as Huey did. He was better prepared than most to face trouble when it found him.

"Okay, I'll just make sure to write down all my observations about Mervana to share with him when he gets in touch."

Donald gave Huey a smile. "I'm sure he'll love that."

***

“Don’t call us, we’ll call you.”

It was an old refrain at this point. 

The last job interview he had, Fethry had spent a full half-hour talking about the eating habits of krill and the merits of singing when asked about his team management skills. 

The interview before that, he spoke briefly about the endless silence of the ocean when asked how he dealt with workplace difficulties. He’d been too quiet after that question.

And the interview before that… well, he didn’t think that room was ever going to be the same.

Fethry’s laptop was old. Wires were sticking out and duct tape was barely holding the screen together. He browsed through the listings for scientists on Quacked In, tweaking his cover letter and resume slightly for each.

Maybe he was going about this the wrong way. Maybe he should try for a slightly smaller position at a lab, like a custodian! He had experience keeping things in custody! And then he could work his way up from there. 

But the little Donalds had such faith in him. They believed he could be a great scientist. Fethry wasn’t going to let them down. He never really realized until it was too late, but Fethry knew he had a habit of letting his family down.

Gladstone had offered to help, after that big event with purple people from the sky… ahh, yes, the invasion! But Fethry knew how often people tried to get close to his cousin to use his luck. Family shouldn’t do that.

The next listing didn’t quite catch his eye. But Fethry was at the point of applying for everything that came up for “scientist” and read through what little there was.

“WANTED: Skilled scientists for private company in Duckburg. Duties will vary. Flexible work schedule, late nights occasionally required. Must be able to roll with the punches.”

He had no expectations that it would progress to a job offer. How he chose to look at was that he was doing really well on reaching his goal of 100 job rejections. He’d read all about re-framing your objectives for positivity!

Once he reached 100, well, he might as well try for 200 rejections then.

He reviewed his resume and cover letter on the final submission screen. He clicked “Send.”

Then he moved onto the next listing and thought no more of it.

***

F.O.W.L.’s computer settings were extremely sensitized when it came to tracking the movements and activities of the Duck-McDuck clan. They knew when Hubert Duck received a new merit badge, or when Dewford Duck uploaded another video to his overlooked Insta, or when Llewellyn bought a soda that wasn’t Pep branded.

Any diversion from or progress in the Duck’s family’s normal routine could be significant. That’s why they monitored it all.

So when a member of the Duck family applied for one of their vacant positions, it got noticed. Alarms went off, alerting the highest-ranking members in F.O.W.L. command.

Just ten minutes after the application was received, Bradford clicked through it on his laptop.

F.O.W.L. could just ignore this. Stay away from the Duck family until they were more ready to move out in the open. It would be a sensible move.

But there was potential here he couldn’t overlook.

Fethry Duck was one of the harder members to track ever since the McDuck SubLab crumbled into an undersea abyss. Satellite images last had him riding some sort of kaiju across the ocean, which was just typical when it came to the Duck-McDuck family.

When the moon invaders came they had made many mistakes, such as caring more about the acknowledgment of their perceived superiority than how they could exploit the Earth. But they had been right that it was better to have all members of that family accounted for when it came to global-scale plans.

Having Fethry under constant watch at F.O.W.L. would leave Gladstone as the most transient variable. And the lottery winnings and sweepstakes prizes he left in his wake would make him infinitely easier to track.

Fethry was also one of the more controllable members of the Duck family. Neither misfortune nor ostentatious fortune dogged his steps. He didn’t question intention and he didn’t try to stir up trouble for his amusement. He was so lacking in ambition that he stayed in a lonely janitorial position for almost five years. If he was taken to a lab and given every reason to stay, he likely would do so without seeing anything amiss.

His goal was to steal the world right out from under Scrooge. Why not start by stealing a member of the man’s family? One Scrooge was unlikely to miss for quite some time, given his avoidance of Fethry’s company.

Yet for a duck who didn’t believe in handouts, it said something that Scrooge still cared enough about Fethry to give him a string of jobs that he more or less performed adequately. He’d prefer it not come to threats, especially since harm to his family made Scrooge predictably savage. But if worse came to worse… better to have a hostage than do without.

And if he was useless? Disposing of him would be no hardship.

He clicked “Accept” and composed a brief response, suggesting a range of times that Fethry could visit a front location in downtown Duckberg.

After opening up the email and reading through it, Fethry squealed and picked out the earliest possible time. 

***

Fethry hummed as he walked inside the address the email gave him. It was a plain building, notable only for its pristine white exterior that seemed all too blank.

He’d dressed up nice for the occasion. His red jacket was replaced with a slightly frayed and browned business suit jacket. His tie was a piece of dried kelp that Mitzy had picked out for him. She always had the best eye when it came to kelp. And his cap was still present, keeping his thoughts toasty warm!

Yet his throat felt clogged and simultaneously too dry. The papers in his hand would be wrinkled if he clutched them any tighter. There was a heavy feeling in his chest that told him he’d be out of here soon enough, and he would need to try his luck elsewhere.

A duck with a dirty face and ruffled hair sat behind the visitor’s desk. Her name tag read “Ample.”

He approached her without his usual bounce. “Hello, I’m here for an interview.”

She nodded and glanced through the schedule. “Fethry Duck?”

“Yes, that’s me.”

“The director is ready to see you now. Go through the double doors over there.”

He dipped forward in an awkward half-bow, unsure if a handshake would be too presumptuous. “Thank you!”

He pushed his way through the double doors. The room was in grey shadow, a large desk slightly off toward one of the corners. Two chairs were in front of the desk, facing the figure behind it.

The shadows slightly obscured the person behind the desk. He could make out a shape but no features.  

The shadow turned to him. “Ah, thank you for coming. Please take a seat.”

Fethry grabbed one of the chairs, shifting his paper copy of his resume as he looked at his interviewer up close.

Oh, he knew this vulture! He worked with Uncle Scrooge before! His name was buzzing around in the back of Fethry’s skull, waiting to be grabbed hold of…. what was it, what was it…?

“Bradley!”

“It’s Bradford,” he corrected in a cold tone. 

Fethry slumped back in his seat, feeling small. “O-oh, I’m sorry.”

Bradford did not take the time to acknowledge what he said. He sat “So, Fethry Duck. Scrooge’s nephew.”

“Yes.”

“You hold no degrees, no certifications that would qualify you for a scientific position.”

“... no.” Fethry knew how much those pieces of paper meant to people. He sunk into his chair, almost wishing it could swallow him up, the way the ocean did…

...and that was not a train of thought he needed to be boarding right now. Fethry stepped off a mental platform, letting it whiz by.

Bradford continued, neither noticing nor caring about Fethry’s inner world and its struggles. “And yet, you thought you could apply here, for a scientific position with us.” He stood up and started to circle around Fethry. “Do you know what we do here, Fethry?”

“Science?”

“Among other things.” Bradford paused behind Fethry. Fethry couldn’t quite bring himself to turn and look at him. “What we do here... let’s just say we're out to change the world.”

Bradford resumed his circle and came to a stop in front of Fethry. He let silence reign for a few seconds before speaking. “And Fethry Duck? We’re willing to give you the chance to join our ranks.”

Fethry had to swallow down dry disbelief. “Really?”

“Yes.”

Fethry���s hands were clammy as he held out his stacks of papers. His grip wasn’t shaking, but his limbs felt hollow. “You don’t even want to look at my resume first?”

“I’ve already seen it.”

He let his arms fall to his sides. His voice came out small, as if he was once again speaking from the bottom of the ocean. “Why me?”

Silence returned. Bradford considered him over his beak.

“You’re the unnoticed member of the Duck-McDuck family. Isn’t it time you had a chance to prove yourself?”

Bradford wasn’t wrong. He wanted that chance. But the implication that he was only getting this job because of his family...

Well. Wasn’t that how he got every job he ever had?

Bradford turned away from him and loomed his way back behind his desk. “Mind you, the job still isn’t much. You’ll be working in a lab on your own projects, yes. But you will remain under direct supervision for the time being. Before undertaking any venture, you are to submit a full report that outlines expected costs and outcomes, in accordance with our guidelines.”

He sat down, his back hunched to allow him to continue looming from a lower height. “The pay is minimum wage, but you can work your way up through experience. Food and board will be provided on-site, so that’s two fewer things you have to worry about.”

Fethry absent-mindedly fiddled with his kelp tie, his attention otherwise on Bradford as he continued.

“As you may have surmised, your work is to be considered top secret. For the time being, we will ask that you remain in the facilities to better learn your responsibilities. There is to be no contact with the outside world without prior approval. Otherwise, you put ourselves and the work we do at risk.”

“If you accept the job under these terms, a car will be dispatched to pick up you and any belongings you choose to bring tomorrow morning.” Bradford steepled his fingers and looked through Fethry. “Do you accept these conditions?” 

Fethry had forgotten he hadn’t said yes to anything yet. He wasn’t sure how he got so caught up that he missed that.

He could bring his team with him, their jar was extremely portable. But taking this job would mean saying goodbye to Mitzy for a while… hopefully, she would understand. 

He nodded, then said for emphasis, “Yes.”

“Well, then. Welcome, Fethry Duck, to…” Bradford paused again, his words trailing off into familiar silence. “... well, we’ll just call it your new place of work.”

***

There wasn’t a whole lot to do at their headquarters between missions. The funnest thing to do around here was to play all the arcade games after the kids had gone home for the day.

However, the last time Steelbeak did that he blew an entire paycheck and ended up with only 20 tickets to show for it—not even enough to trade-in for a piece of candy. That didn’t make him stupid, that made the games rigged.

Now he stuck to the actual secret parts of their secret lair, wandering the halls. His wallet stayed full and fat, but the time between missions dragged on and on.

The gun course was fun, but there was only so much offtime an agent was allowed there. Spend too much time shooting things and command would send you over to their quack shrink.

The rec room was okay, but he’d be fighting every off-duty Eggman there if he wanted to pick which channel to watch on the sole TV. Not that he wouldn’t win, but his time in the prison rec room, and the underground fighting ring’s rec room before that, taught him that victory wasn’t worth it if you couldn’t find any good shows playing.

Which is how he often ended up doing what he did right now, trailing after Heron down to the labs. He’d watch her and watch the other scientists, trying to see how what they did tied into F.O.W.L.’s big ol’ villain schemes.

Did he always understand what she was working on? No. Did she ever really try to explain it in an easily understood way? Also no. Did these trips to the labs often end with her metal hand clamped around his beak, hissing at him and calling him names? No, well, yes. Yes, it did.

… he was supposed to be going somewhere with this, but he wasn’t quite sure where. Wait, no, now he remembered. 

If he wanted to someday be the one hatching the schemes, he should watch how others hatched theirs first. It was like watching the prizefighter in the ring to learn how to beat him. Some people would only hit you if you asked them for anything, so you had to watch how they did something instead.

Most of the other scientists ignored him, and he didn’t pay them much attention either. But today, a duck in a red hat waved at them as he and Heron stepped inside the lab.

“Oh, hello! I’m Fethry!” The lab coat he was wearing hung loosely on him, clearly meant for a slightly larger bird.

“O-kaaay...?” Why was he expected to care?

A grin was spreading across Heron’s face as she looked the duck up and down. Then she turned her gaze to Steelbeak as she gestured offhandedly at the duck. “Fethry is our new marine specialist. He’ll be working on some of our most important projects.”

Heron… sounded like she was trying to hold back a laugh. What, was this smart guy really good at the jokes? Or did he know a party trick or two?

And what kind of name was Fethry? Might as well have called him “Webby” since he had webbed feet.

“Say, Fethry?” He knew that tone of voice from Heron. He didn’t always know the details of what she was saying, but he knew the sweetly sharpened tone was meant to cut someone down to size.

He felt… lighter, watching that tone be aimed at someone who wasn’t him. Like he was actually in on the joke for once. He also felt the urge to move to safer ground.

Heron’s smile was wide as she continued. “Why don’t you explain to my partner, Steelbeak, what you’re working on? He loves to hear about scientific experiments in great detail. Especially if you use a lot of long words.”

Okay, maybe he was still part of the joke.

Fethry’s eyes widened—he didn’t even know it was possible for someone to widen their eyes like that until Fethry did. “I’d love to!”

“Great!” Heron said in a passable imitation of Fethry’s enthusiasm. Under her breath she added, “Maybe now I can get some real work done.”

Steelbeak’s jaw tightened as she walked away. He refocused his gaze on the red-capped duck, who was all but jumping in place. 

A snort escaped him as he sat down at a table. At least if this pipsqueak tried to clamp his beak, he could just knock him into next week.

“So what are you working on?” This was still more exciting than watching the walls, after all.

Fethry laughed nervously. It had been a while since anyone paid him a significant amount of attention. “Well, at the moment I’m just filling out the request paperwork. But I’m hoping to start an experiment on delaying the eating habits of the crown of thorns starfish.”

“The what?”

“Crown of thorns starfish. It eats coral.”

“And that is?”

“Coral is like…” Fethry scratched his head. He could never remember all the big words like polyps, sessile, and Anthozoa when he needed to. “It’s like skeletons scattered across the seafloor that fish live in.”

“Really? So fish just decide to live in dead bodies.” Sounded fake, but at least it wasn’t boring.

“Well, coral is a skeleton, but it’s also alive. It’s really bad when they do die.”

“So the fish live in alive dead bodies.” This Fethry guy was talking an interesting sort of crazy.

“Skeletons, yes. Called coral. Only these sea stars eat the coral, so the fish have no place to live then.”

“Now, these sea stars start off eating algae. It’s been called the grass of the sea,” he explained before Steelbeak even had to ask. Fethry’s beak scrunched up. “Though I have to say, grass usually tastes much better.”

“How long it takes for the sea stars to go from algae to coral varies. And there’s a lot of these starfish in the ocean. If they made the switch all at once, they could do a lot of damage.”

Huh. For the guy’s first project, it had the makings of a decent scheme. “So… if you could figure out how to make them do it, you could have them eat the fish out of house and home?”

Fethry actually nodded at that. “Or if I could figure out a way to slow it down, I could buy time for the reefs to grow.”

“...huh.” He actually followed most of that. Sure in his mind, coral reefs had a lot more skulls than they normally did. But he got the gist of what Fethry was talking about.

Black Heron hummed as she worked without interruption. Fethry calculated the costs of feeding and housing a small colony of starfish, making sure to show his work. And Steelbeak imagined blackmailing a fishing village with an army of sea stars. Small potatoes when it came to true villainy, but everyone had to start somewhere.

***

It wasn’t one of Heron’s longer science sessions. She tapped at some keys, read some screens, fiddled with some gadgets, and was ready to leave in a couple of hours.

Fethry had remained in the lab, drawing up plans for a sea star’s dream home. They’d need plenty of walking room, he’d said, so he was drawing up little pathway designs. Including one for a yellow brick road.

He started to reach out a hand to Steelbeak… for what, Steelbeak wasn’t sure. His body tensed in defense.

And Fethry must have noticed because he let his hand drop to his side and just smiled instead. “Thanks for listening. I know I kind of ramble.”

Steelbeak waited a few seconds to be sure that Fethry wasn’t going to make any sudden moves. Then he gave a shrug and followed Heron out.

It hadn’t been a hardship. Listening to weird undersea stuff passed the time. It was like catching a documentary on TV, without the meatheads that would grab the remote from you and change the channel to something else.

Black Heron laughed at Fethry as soon as they left the lab. "That guy," was all she managed to say before chuckles overtook her.

Steelbeak scowled. “What? What did he say that was so funny?” Was he the butt of someone else’s joke again? He'd make him go splat, if so.

Heron regained control of herself, but she was still grinning. “He didn’t have to say anything. It’s comical that he’s even here.”

The scowl receded and his brows knit in confusion. “I don’t —”

“You don’t get it, I know. Lucky for you, I’m in a good enough mood to explain. He’s Scrooge McDuck’s nephew. You remember, the guy you were supposed to get out of the arcade?”

“The big guy who wrecked one of my suits?”

“Ugh, no! He was the one wearing a top hat.” A frown flitted across her face, but her good mood was quick to reassert itself. Past failure meant little in the face of such a hilarious triumph.

“He came to us, wanting a job. He has no idea that we’re F.O.W.L. and no idea that we’re working against everything his family stands for. We’re holding him hostage, and he has no clue.” Another peal of laughter escaped Heron.

Steelbeak let out a chuckle as well, now that he was finally in on the joke. "Ahh, I get it. Classic dum-dum. What kind of idiot doesn't know who they're working for?"

The grin on Heron’s face slipped slightly.

"This should go without saying, but I know you so I'll say it anyway. Do not tell Fethry any details of your work, your missions, what we do here. Nada. Nothing."

"Well, duh. I know that. That's why they're called secret missions."

"Steelbeak, I once saw you brag about being a secret agent at a bar to try and get a date."

"And why not! They were cute!"

“And you wonder why your recreational leave is so limited.”

“What?”

“I’m saying dumb boys don’t get a lot of outdoors time.”

“Hey!”

A smirk moved across her face before she continued. “The director wants him to remain utterly oblivious, so secrecy is of the utmost importance. He’s not going to be happy if we have to lock him up or kill him for knowing too much.”

Steelbeak did not reach for his beak. He did not feel the slight dents that remained from trying to punch his own mouth open. “And we’re not just locking him up now, why?”

“Because the Ducks are easiest to manage when they think a situation is within their control!” Her voice was raised as decades of thwarted ambitions seeped into her tone.

Steelbeak was unimpressed. He could get just as angry, and he hadn’t needed years to get to that point.

“And what if he does ask what I do here?”

“Why would he ask? You’re hardly about to engage him in some deep conversation, are you?”

He couldn’t quite meet her eyes for some reason. “Well, no, but…”

“Oh, for larceny’s sake. If it does come up and you can’t avoid answering the question, just make something up. You’re an agent, do some lying.”

“... yeah, of course. I can do that.”

***

It doesn’t really sink in until later that night, back in his room, how Fethry answered all his questions without calling him, “Stupid.”

[diyunho]

The Joker X Reader - “Ghost Driver”

When The Joker says you’re his, it means you’re essential to him because he needs your services for his own gain; it literally has zero affectionate connotations. Turbo is The King’s Ghost Driver and although she’s a legend, her life is far from perfect.

Part 2

“Where’s all your stuff?!” Frost asks since the apartment is pretty much empty.

“Gave it to Adam,” you sulk. “He wouldn’t sign the divorce papers so I gave in; I don’t even care… I’m glad he’s out of here.”

Jonny gazes at you in silence, a million words rushing through his mind and The Joker’s henchman can’t articulate anything close to what he would like to vociferate besides foolish small talk:

“How are you holding up?”

“Not sure… I don’t even know what the hell happened to us…It used to be so great and then he started making comments about my weight, gossiping with his friends behind my back, then cheated… I couldn’t handle it,” Y/N confesses although Frost is already acquainted with the dreadful story of her crumbled marriage.

“Not what the hell happened to us,” he decides to underline his personal opinion. “I think the question should be what the hell happened to him: you didn’t do anything wrong. And I believe you look perfect,” he mumbles the last sentence.

“What was that?” you search the fridge for his favorite soda.

“Nothing... nothing…”

“Here you go,” you offer the cold Fanta to a distraught companion.

“Thanks, Y/N. Here’s the money for tonight,” he gives you the envelope. “As usually, half now , half after the job is done.”

“OK,” you accept the terms without issues because it’s how The Clown Prince of Crime pays for your services. “Jonny, why is there an extra thousand dollars in here?!”

“Ummm…” the man tries to find a reasonable explanation yet Y/N can’t accept his strategy.

“Should I text Mister Joker and thank him for the bonus?”

“Nope,” he bites on his lip.

“I appreciate it,” you return the extra cash to Frost. ”I’m fine. Really.”

“Well…” he takes the bills and stashes them in his wallet, “… let me know if you need anything, alright?”

“I promise I will, “ you smile. “I swear on my Turbo honor,” the joke makes him smile also.

“Hey Y/N… I was thinking… maybe one of these days, if you feel like it, we could… and it’s entirely up to you, no pressure… maybe you would want to… ”

Frost’s phone keeps ringing and he retrieves from his suit’s pocket, annoyed about the interruption.

“It’s Audra,” he huffs while declining the call.

“Might be important,” you sort of urge him to answer.

“Meh, I doubt it. She will chew my ears off regarding our relationship that ended 3 months ago. I’m not interested,” he strolls towards the exit due to another pressing matter he has to attend. “I have to go, Mister Joker has a meeting soon; I’ll see you later, Y/N.”

“See you,” you wave and lock the door when your cell alerts of an incoming text from The Joker.

Downloading two pictures… Pictures?!

“Oh…my… God…!” you hold your breath when the first image depicts a totally naked King of Gotham reflected in the mirror at his gym and squeal when the second one shows a close up of his mid-section.

“Oh my God!” you burst out laughing as you admire the unexpected missive. “Heeeelllo Mister Joker,” you mutter and actual phrases pop up on your screen.

“I sent these to the wrong number, Y/N. Ignore and erase them!”

“Of course, sir!” you immediately reply with no intention of doing it for the moment.

Why?

The hilarious error shook you up from apathy and it’s worth saving those pics for a bit longer since you can’t remember the last time something got your attention after the messy divorce.

***************

11:49 PM

The Joker is the first one to get in the car next to you, firmly clutching to his suitcase full of diamonds freshly stolen from “Diamond Emporium” store on Glissan Avenue. You notice the other goons sneaking to the cars deliberately positioned around nearby streets for tonight’s robbery. How come J doesn’t go with them?

The dilemma is simple:

The green haired menace typically arrives with his regular crew when he plans heists but has Y/N pick him up after the job is done.

“Hi Mister Joker,” you greet your employer.

“Hey,” he acknowledges your presence. “Did you delete the pictures?” The Joker gets straight to the point.

“Yes,” you lie and tell the truth in the same time: you erased the whole body image but kept the close up one for future reference.

“Good. What did you think?” the hasty interrogation prompts a careful chosen response.

“You look very…,” and you pause in order to find the correct term since a tiny mistake could set him off. “… Healthy, Mister Joker.”

“I do,” he huffs quite pleased with your statement.

You wish to add more but Frost and the new hire squeeze in the back seat awaiting orders.

“You’re in luck kid,” Jonny places a box filled with precious gems at his feet. “Your first assignment and you get to meet Turbo.”

The young man opens his mouth in amazement as you move the fingers from your right hand in the air instead of a proper introduction.

“You’re Turbo?! I thought you’re a guy!” Nick blurs out and Frost punches him in the head, displeased with the observation.

“Sounds empty,” you growl while The Clown snorts.

“My Ghost Driver A GUY??!! Ha-ha-ha-ha!” the unnerving, screechy noises make the newbie shrivel up. “Turbo, A GUY!” he continues to amuse himself before giving Nick a psychotic glare.

“I’m…I’m so sorry, I meant no disrespect,” he nervously stutters especially since J called you “his”.

The poor bastard’s oblivious about what the label implies in The Clown’s universe: when The Joker says you’re his, it means you’re essential to him because he needs your services for his own gain; it literally has zero affectionate connotations.

“Where the fuck did you find this buffoon?” you chew on your gum, irritated.

“He’s Richard’s nephew,” Jonny sucks on his teeth.

“Uncle Panda is infinitely smarter,” Y/N barks at the revelation.

“I’m truly sorry,” Nick apologizes again and you cut him off.

“Save it!... … I hear sirens,” you slowly inhale and The King calmly articulates:

“I forgot to mention I accidentally triggered the silent alarm.”

Translation: he did it on purpose.

You snicker at the first lights blinking in the distance, excited to have some fun after stressing so much in the past weeks. The vehicles belonging to the gang scatter in different directions as you step on the gas pedal, accelerating towards the numerous police cars answering to the 10-64 code.

“That’s my girl!” J cracks his neck, already hyped at the adrenaline rush burning his veins: The Ghost Driver is perfect to offer him what he craves and she always delivers.

That’s why Turbo is his.

************

4:37 AM

“Hi…Mister…Mister Joker…” you attempt to talk without slurring.

“It’s Ella,” his girlfriend snarls.

“Why…where is he?” you guzzle down half of glass of wine, adamant in having a chat with your boss.

“Well, after you two had a merry time being chased by cops all over town, he came home and now he’s sorting out the diamonds,” the woman bitterly reports.

“I wanna talk to him,” you sniffle and drink some more alcohol.

“You just saw him. I’m sure it can wait until tomorrow.”

“I’m sure it can’t!” you shout. “I just received important information he’d be i…interested in,” you finally make it through the whole sentence.

Ella stomps in the living room, vexed at your behavior.

“It’s Turbo,” she shoves the phone in his fingers. “The bitch is wasted!”

“What did you call me?!” the appalled Y/N is about to burst when The Joker’s deep voice resonates I her ear.  

“Yeah?”

“Sir,” you correct your bitter tone. “I h-have very important news!”

“I’m listening,” J ignores his woman as she cusses you out.

“I have to tell you in person, sir. Let’s go on a date and I’ll reveal the entire shocking...”

“Huh?!”

“I have crucial information…”

“Quit repeating yourself!” The Joker interrupts. “You’re not making any sense. Go to sleep and we’ll catch up after you sober up.”

“But I wanna go on date Mister Joker,” you gulp the rest of the wine and prepare for a fourth round.

“Why, because I look healthy?” J mocks and Ella sighs, not understanding the odd conversation she’s witnessing. “… …. … Hello?”

A loud thud, then dialing tone at the other end of the line.

“I think she passed out,” The King of Gotham concludes, not particularly worried at the sudden halt of your monologue.

***************

3 Days Later

The late meeting is almost done: the buyers already purchased the diamonds J had for sale, among them your ex-husband Adam that has a small crowd gathered next to him; he’s supposedly famous for his crappy attitude enjoyed by jerks sharing the same ludicrous humor.

“You know I’m sensible when it comes to challenges and I couldn’t grasp why she doesn’t want my help in shedding a few pounds. What’s the harm in that?! I love curves but sometimes I don’t, ya’ know?” he winks and the group laughs.

The Joker is arranging money in duffle bags, his concentration diverted by the impromptu comedic performance. What the heck are they yapping about?

Frost is certainly in a foul mood: J can guess his trusted henchman is worked up since the usual chilled Jonny can’t control his anger.

“What’s wrong with being voluptuous, hm?” he addresses Adam and it clicks for The Joker: this is about Y/N.

“Nothing at all,” he smirks and the laughter around the room dies out because not too many dare screwing with Jonny Frost. “I was merely emphasizing that if a woman can’t lose weight, she’s doomed. Y/N lost me, how is she going to get another stud if she…”

“Perhaps she’s not interested in pieces of shit; definitely had her share!” Frost grumbles at the absurd remarks.

The Joker has no clue about what’s going on, yet he won’t deny today’s entertainment is far from boring.

“Give me a break!” Adam scoffs. “Who’d sniff her tail if she refuses to get skinnier? Ooohhh, wait a minute, we might have an admirer,” he arrogantly slides your cell out of his coat. “I was browsing her pictures and what do you know? A gentleman sent Y/N a picture of his junk three days ago. I am deeply sorry, my bad. She does have somebody sniffing her tail. What kind of loser sends images of his dangling goodies to another dude’s wife?!” 

“Ex-wife!” Jonny sneers whilst J’s calculation leads to an easy verdict: you kept one pic.

“Whose junk is this?! Is it yours?” your estranged spouse accuses Frost without any evidence.

“It’s my junk,” The Joker’s serene revelation makes everyone freeze: they have no idea how to react at the puzzling escalation of events.

Is he bluffing?!

“I wasn’t aware I require permission in order to text whatever I desire to whomever I want.”

Awkward silence and Frost approaches Adam, boiling with indignation.

“Why do you have Y/N’s phone?”

Your husband doesn’t have a chance to justify his action: Jonny’s punch throws him to the ground, immediately followed by his unsettling ultimatum.  

“You son of a bitch, what did you do to her?”

Your former husband gets on his elbow ready to attack when The King’s stern inquiry stops his motion:

“WHERE.IS.MY.TURBO?”

****************

After 1 hour

Frost lifts you higher in his arms while you keep wheezing, trying to regain control.

“I’m sorry…I attacked you,” the weakened Y/N whispers. “I thought you were Adam...”

After being abducted and left to starve for the last 3 days, you had one clear purpose: to kill the guy that did it. Adam surely crossed the line with his despicable plan of making you lose weight: he creeped in your apartment, kidnapped you and took you to his home where you were chained in the cellar until Jonny found you. The basement was dark and you couldn’t see, that’s why you used whatever strength you had left in order to attack the individual responsible for your misfortune.

Turned out it was actually a rescue party although Frost is now the proud owner of a beautiful bump courtesy of Y/N.

“No problem,” Jonny takes you to his SUV, carefully laying you down in the passenger’s seat. “How’s your head?” he wipes the dried blood on your cheeks since Adam knocked you out unconscious while you were talking to The Joker after the heist.

“I’m OK,” you start crying, mostly mad at yourself for being such an easy prey, yet you didn’t see it coming.

“You know… It’s OK not to be OK,” Frost opens a bottle of water and gives it to you. “I’ll take you home, you can take a shower and I’ll have the doctor come for an emergency evaluation. Are you hungry?”

“I’m so hungry,” tears stream down your face and Jonny has a great proposal.

“I’ll order some food and if you want me to I can stay with you. After you feel better, we could… and it’s entirely up to you, no pressure… maybe you would want to…”

The Joker rolls his eyes, deciding to emerge from the shadows.

“Wow, this is painful to watch. Frost believes he’s still in high school: basically he’s asking you on a date. There, done. No need to beat around the bush. Jesus!” J scolds about a subject he shouldn’t mess with. “I have a heist next week, you better be good to go by then!” he gestures at the confused duo. “If you’ll excuse me, I have my own date to honor. We’re done here, yes?”

“Yes sir,” Jonny replies for both, unwilling to split hairs with The Joker and his obnoxious aberrations. “Here’s your cell,” he returns the item to you and you snatch it, relieved. You seem to have an outburst of energy as you unlock the secured folder.

“Where’s Adam?”

“I don’t know, we had an altercation at the warehouse then he scrammed,” Frost reports, ogling a strange looking Y/N typing on her phone.

“He won’t be able to hide,” you grin and send the attachment to The Joker.

*************

“We’ll be late for dinner,” Ella kisses The Clown. “I’m not a 100% positive why we had to waste precious time and come for her,” she pouts and drags him after her towards their vehicle.

J’s phone chimes and he stops in his tracks, not expecting a message from you seconds after the encounter.

“Mister Joker, you were very generous to share pictures with me.

Allow me to do the same.

Your Turbo.”

Imagines downloading and he’s not sure what to do when pics appear one by one: frames taken by the private investigator you hired to follow Adam when you suspected he was cheating. The bastard was diligent, but he was eventually caught in the act three days ago.

Who’s the woman he’s with?

The Joker’s Queen.

“What’s wrong?” she frowns at the visible switch in his temper.

The Clown ruthlessly slams Ella against the hood while her cell also receives a text from Y/N:

“Who’s the bitch now?”

 Also read: MASTERLIST

You can also follow me on Wattpad and Ao3 under the same blog name: DiYunho.

[fluffykitty1999-blog]

Dog of the Military- Chapter 35

Chapter 35

A little bit of rest and relaxation for our favorite heroes, and some family bonding time fluff. 

Also- Mustang gets a little ribbing from Hughes and acknowledges that yeah, he’s a dad.

Roy ended up lacking the motivation to carry Ed up the stairs to his room. Or to make himself climb the stairs to get to his own bedroom. He ended up depositing Ed on the couch and flopping into his favorite recliner.

Alphonse had gotten a ride to the hospital at some point, and he puttered into the house behind them, with a bag full of prescriptions for both the other residents of the home.

Al seated himself calmly on the floor and started reading an issue of Cosmo as the Roy and Ed slept.

It was sunlight streaming through the window, the smell of coffee, and voices that woke him in the morning.

Roy blinked harshly, getting to his feet and checking the time. It was almost noon.

He'd thought he was doing good- but as he walked, he realized there was a jackhammer drilling behind his eyes and his headache came back as he became more awake.

Still, he trooped into the kitchen, intent on tracking down some of the coffee he'd been smelling.

He found Hawkeye sitting at his kitchen table, speaking quietly to Alphonse.

"Good morning Colonel!" Al said happily.

"Morning, Alphonse." Gosh, he felt like absolute garbage. Still, if He slammed some coffee and painkillers, he could probably get in a good half day at work, if the Lieutenant was kind enough to drive him. There was no way he'd be able to drive himself in his current dizzy state.

"Lieutenant- mind giving me a ride to work?"

Riza sipped from her mug of coffee, shaking her head. "No need. You've been given the day off. Edward, too."

"By who?"

"General Haruko himself, sir. He and the brass have enough to deal with, he wanted to congratulate you on catching Banks." her gaze flickered to Alphonse for a moment, and Roy knew he wasn't getting the whole story. Still, he knew that Riza must have a reason for keeping the truth from him, and he nodded, grabbing some bread from the breadbox and making himself some plain toast, pressing his palm to his pounding head.

"Take two of these, sir. Alphonse will give you more in an hour." Riza offered him something from a prescription bottle, and he downed both pills dry before nodding, grabbing his toast.

"What about Ed?" Roy asked, thinking of the boy still passed out on the couch. "Has he got anything he has to take?".

"I woke him and gave him his medication about an hour ago. My lunch is almost over, though, I have to get back to the office. One of the men from the office will bring by dinner, Alphonse will call and tell us what you want..."

Riza Hawkeye was, in fact, an angel in human form.

Ed was still out cold on the couch, and Roy took the opportunity to toss a blanket over him before sinking back into the recliner. He briefly considered reading the paper before electing not to, deciding today would be better spent being lazy. He hardly ever got days off like this- and neither did Ed. Might as well waste it sleeping while he could.

LINEBREAK LINEBREAK LINEBREAK LINEBREAK LINEBREAK

"Yeah- four cheese pizzas, with like, a bunch of shit on them. I don't even care, as long as those little fish aren't on it. Surprise me. I dunno- a soda. Something brightly colored. Yeah, he'll probably eat some too. No, he's not awake. You know what, throw some breadsticks in there too. They're really good. Yeah, he's alive, I totally checked like five minutes ago. Alright. See you soon. Thanks Havoc." Ed hung up the phone and plunked himself back on the couch, looking pleased with himself.

Roy opened his eyes.

"Oh good- you're awake." Alphonse said cheerily.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, Bastard." Ed smirked. "You want anything for dinner? You weren't awake, but I can call back and order more..."

All Roy really wanted right now was some tea, and maybe a breadstick or two.

"No- I'll have some of whatever." his headache was still there, but not as intense as before. It was more a quiet sort of misery than a burning agony, now.

"Alphonse- do we have any tea?"

"Yes, we do! I'll go put on the kettle." Alphonse bounded to his feet, setting something off his lap and going into the kitchen. He was glad to be of help.

Roy looked down to see some sort of red yarn monstrosity nearly covering the floor of his living room.

"Alphonse taught himself how to knit today. I'd say that's lame, but all I've been doing is drinking juice boxes and complaining, so he did more than me." Ed spoke up from the couch.

"I tried to read something about the stone, but then I fell asleep again. These damn pills ruin everything." Ed complained, sitting up a little straighter.

Roy smirked. "That's not what you were saying at the ER last night. The pain medication made you act like a little kid."

"Shut up, I don't wanna hear it!"

"It was adorable. You came over and cuddled with me."

"Lalala!" Ed was covering his ears, now, and Roy laughed slightly. The only bad thing was that with Hughes in the hospital, he wouldn't have photographic evidence.

The doorbell rang just as Alphonse came back into the room with tea, and Ed jumped to his feet, excited. "Dinner!"

He came back with Havoc and several pizza boxes, settling himself down on the floor and starting to demolish an entire pizza by himself.

Havoc smirked. "Well. Glad to see the Chief wasn't too badly affected by everything. How are you, Boss?" Havoc looked over at Roy, who shrugged.

"I'll live." he sipped his tea and grabbed a bread stick from one of the take out containers. "How are they resolving this whole incident?"

Havoc shrugged. "I'm under orders not to talk about work with you. Hawkeye says you can get caught up on it yourself." Havoc shot a quick glance at Ed, who was still eating at an insane pace, and once again, Roy realized that there was something he didn't want to tell him in front of the boys. He'd find out soon enough when he went back to work again tomorrow, anyways.

"Hey Havoc- you wanna sign my cast!?" Ed held up his casted arm and continued to eat pizza with his other arm, and Havoc grinned, pulling out a sharpie from his pocket.

"Sure, Chief, let me see.".

LINEBREAK LINEBREAK LINEBREAK LINEBREAK LINEBREAK

The morning at work was quiet- Hughes had been discharged from the hospital yesterday, and Hawkeye told him he should go visit him friend immediately when he came in, despite the obvious stacks of paperwork on his desk. Roy complied without question- he'd known something was up since yesterday.

Fullmetal was occupied filling out his own share of paperwork about what'd happened, and getting people to sign his cast between forms.

He found it easy to duck out and stride into the investigation's branch, letting himself in and nodding to Scheska before he was knocking on the door to his friend's office excitedly.

Hughes was sitting sideways at his desk, his casted leg propped up on a chair set beside him. He gave a tired smile when he strode into the room.

"I was wondering how long before you showed up."

Roy snagged another chair and pulled it up, sitting down across from his friend.

"Well, I'm here. And I get the feeling something else has happened, but none of my team will say it outright. So tell me what it is. How are they resolving this case? Is Banks in custody?"

"No." Hughes frowned, sliding a manilla folder across the desktop.

"Banks was driving a car with two Drachmans in it and Ed in the passenger seat. They were tailed by a car driven by a single Drachman. Despite the crash, there was only one fatality. A Drachman in the car Ed was in- he was ejected and died on the scene. Everyone else survived the crash."

"So why aren't they in custody, then?" Roy said, not understanding.

"Open the file, Roy."

Roy obeyed. He found himself staring at the pieces of a destroyed car- the black car was upside down, the windows shattered, the front absolutely smashed... Roy found himself nauseas just looking at it, and he had to pull his eyes away.

"Ed... that was..." he could hardly put the words together.

Hughes nodded. "That was the car Ed rode in, yeah. He was the only one wearing a seat belt. He was also the only one uninjured enough to walk away from the crash. And it's a damn good thing he did."

"I don't understand. Ed said Banks was breathing when he left him, they were too injured to run away..."

"Someone else got there before the military, Roy." Hughes said gently. "Armstrong is processing the scene- he's the one who took these pictures. Shortly after Ed left, the wedding band killer surface from a nearby manhole."

Roy continued flipping through the folder- pictures, of a blood trail from bodies being dragged across the pavement, an open manhole cover...

"They were too injured to get away. The wedding band killer dragged every living man out of those cars and took them down into the sewers with him. He's having a hell of a lot of fun right now chopping them up- Armstrong has been able to confirm Banks is dead, though we're still looking for pieces of the other two. The corner is going to get back to me- let me know if we have enough body parts to account for three bodies. He left the dead man in the street- he only wanted the ones that were still alive."

Roy kept flipping through the photos. There were messages written in blood on the sewer walls. Cryptic warnings, some quotes of religious text, and for one, just a large smilie face drawn in blood.

"Are you okay?" Hughes asked, looking at Roy with concern.

Roy took a deep breath, closing the file folder when he was done. His heart was hammering in his chest. "I will be." he said finally, looking up. "I just... didn't expect them to all be dead. And like that..."

"Dragged into the sewers by a madman and tortured to death. Yeah, it's not exactly an ideal ending for anybody..."

"That could've been Edward."

"But it wasn't." Hughes said firmly. "Your staff all knows, but nobody has told Ed, and we're not planning to. All he needs to know is that they've been handled by the justice system."

"What kind of justice is that?" Roy looked down at the folder in disgust.

"Street justice. I know nobody deserves that, and it's horrific, but the one good thing that came out of all of this is that Ed is finally safe in Central again. That's what I tell myself, anyways."

"So- what does the brass think of all of this?"

Hughes sighed. "They have... mixed feelings on the matter. They're glad the whole Banks Fiasco has been dealt with. They're glad the Drachman issue is dealt with and was never publicized. And they're breathing down my neck trying to get me to catch the Wedding Band killer. I've already borrowed a couple of your men and called in as many favors as I could to help locate this guy. We're going to be starting to search the sewer systematically in teams next week." Hughes said simply.

"Enough of the official talk, though- what about the boys?"

"What about them?" Roy asked, looking puzzled. "I'm not planning on telling them about any of this. Now that the Drachmans and Banks are out of the picture, he'll probably start asking to travel again..."

"And what will you do?" Hughes asked, steepling his fingers and eyeing his friend carefully.

"I'll let him go." something painful in his chest tugged as he said those words, but he knew it was the right thing to do. Edward had goals to accomplish, leads to chase- and he wouldn't get anywhere standing still. "There's no reason to worry about him more than usual, now that things are dealt with. Besides, it's probably safer. It means I won't have to worry about him while I'm helping with the Mr. Fingers case. I'd rather have him out of the city while this is dealt with- he's already gotten too close to this killer for comfort a few times."

"Right. That's what I figured. How soon do you plan on letting him go out again?"

Roy paused for a moment, thinking. Ed did have a broken wrist- he was still sleeping more than usual, starting to recover...

"I'll keep him here for a week. Then he can go back out on his search."

"You sound disappointed." Hughes observed.

"It's... more lively with them around. But I'd only be hurting them if I kept them too close. I'm not the only one with goals, Hughes." he wondered about the day when Ed would return to Central city not with a suit of armor, but with Alphonse in the flesh. He realized he didn't know what Alphonse physically looked like- not even in pictures- and something fluttered in his chest at the thought of finally seeing the younger of the two boys for the first time.

"That's what being a parent is, you know. Knowing when to protect them and keep them close, and knowing when to let them go into the world on their own."

"I'm not their father, Hughes."

"No. You're not. But you're the closest thing they have. Ed's probably gonna be back here in two months, pissed and tired because he hasn't found anything. What'll you do then?"

"Tell the kid to go take a shower and let him crash upstairs. If he finds any alchemy that he needs my help with, he'll ask me about it."

"That's what a parent does. You're they're father, Roy, in all but name."

"Somethings are better left unsaid, Hughes. I'm climbing up the ladder- the less people know about who I care about, the better."

"And if Edward says it?"

"He already has."

"He has!?" Hughes eyes widened and his grin grew impossibly wide.

"Yes. He was drugged to high heaven in a hospital, but he's called me Dad."

"And did you correct him?"

"No."

"That's it. I'm starting a damn photo album." Hughes was rooting through his desk drawers.

Mustang sighed, standing and heading for the door. This was probably all the useful conversation he'd get with Hughes today.

"You had two damn kids and I didn't even get to come to your baby shower!"

"Shut up, Hughes!"

Obligatory ko-fi: https://ko-fi.com/fluffykitty12 .

[live-laugh-lesbian80083]

La Vie en Rose

1 - Don't Forget About Me

Summary: Everything about her is perfect. Her grades, her looks, her personality, everything. Desiree Hale is known as little miss perfect all throughout middle school. But when she makes the transition from being in eighth grade to being a freshman, everything changes. Not because of the change in her surroundings, but because of a girl. A girl with gorgeous brown locks and stunning eyes to match, with a voice that sounds like an angel and a smile that could melt anyone's heart. The moment Desiree laid her eyes on the girl, she knew there was something different about herself.

Word Count: 3,205

Warnings: None

Please do NOT copy, rewrite, or translate onto another site. Permission will not be given if asked for it.

Water splashes on the light gray concrete, soaking the people nearby. Meat sizzles on the grill, sending a delectable aroma through the air. Adults and children cover the lawn, chatter fills the surrounding space. The Sun's rays beat upon everything it can reach, making anything hot to the touch. This is what a Fourth of July party looks like. People having fun interacting with each other and forming relationships with people they had just met.

But not me. I've been sitting in the corner underneath an enormous oak tree with my journal full of short stories and other random notes. No one has bothered talking to me. It's not like anyone would want to talk with the girl who has her face buried in a journal. They're too busy enjoying the sun and partying. I'm not a big fan of the sun. Or parties. I'd much rather sit inside and read or write all day.

I turned the page in my notebook and began jotting down random thoughts that pop into my mind. As I looked up to relax my eyes, I noticed a girl my age approaching me in a bright blue two-piece swimsuit with a bright smile on her face. I smiled back and watched as she sat next to me on the grass.

"So, what brings you to this miserable party?" She asked, her smile not fading.

"My parents are friends with the hosts." I deadpanned. "You?"

"My parents are the hosts." She chuckled.

Silence. We stared into the distance and watched my little sister -who's only six years old- jump into the pool with a bright pink ring sitting around her waist as my dad caught her. I smiled when I heard her screams of joy.

"What's your name?" The girl said as she cleared her throat.

"Oh, it's Desiree." I stuttered, clearly being thrown off guard by the sudden question. "What's yours?"

"Zoe." She replied.

More silence. That's enough of our conversation. It's obvious neither of us gets out there or talk to others often. We've only said six things to each other. And every time we try to converse, it always starts with her asking a question.

"Wanna come to the pool with me? I think it's a lot cooler than sitting out in the sun." Zoe comments. "You don't have to if you don't want to."

"Actually, that sounds nice. I'll be right back." I said, standing up as my arms naturally spread to the sky to release tension.

"If you're changing, I could show you where the bathrooms are." She commented.

"That's alright. Your mom told me where they were when we got here." I replied, grabbing my bag and hurrying into the house and towards the bathroom.

Once I was inside, I quickly stripped off my clothing and changed into my black two piece. I turned to look at the mirror and pulled my dark brown hair into a high ponytail to prevent it from getting wet. Smiling, I made my way out of the bathroom and found Zoe standing by the door, waiting for me.

The two of us ran to the pool and dove into the deep end with grins spread across our faces. Fully submerged in the water, I opened my eyes and looked to my right to see Zoe watching me. I smirked and began swimming to the surface. As I broke the fine line between the water and air, I felt my lungs gasp for air and my wet hair stick to the back of my neck. There was no point in that ponytail. I quickly stroked to the edge of the pool where I met with Zoe and got greeted with a splash of water to the face. I let out a dramatic gasp and pushed water towards her as well. Before we knew it, we made our way back out to the middle of the pool again in a huge water war. The two of us looked up to see my dad running towards us from the surface. I took in as much air as possible into my lungs and dove under the water just before he got to the pool. Zoe continued swimming in place and tried to protect herself from the oncoming tidal wave, but it was no use. Dad hit the water, and I felt myself get pushed towards the other side of the pool. As I felt the water calm down, I quickly resurfaced and swallowed a breath of fresh air.

"Dinner's ready, girls." Dad laughed as he swam over to us.

"That wasn't necessary." I said, brushing loose strands of wet hair behind my ears.

"I know. I just wanted to make sure you heard me." He replied as he stepped out of the pool. "I was also extremely hot."

Zoe and I glanced at each other and laughed, making our way out of the water. We hopped in line and draped brightly colored towels around our shoulders to dry off a bit. I grabbed a paper plate and collected a hotdog, some condiments and a small bag of Doritos. I thanked the man standing by the grill for the meal and scanned the yard for Zoe to find her sitting under the tree we met at. Smirking, I rushed to the grass. Standing at her side, I placed my food onto the ground and lay the towel flat next to where Zoe had done the same. I then sat criss-crossed on the fabric and dug into my meal.

"Tell me something about yourself." I prompted, breaking the silence.

"Oh, I uh, I play guitar and bass. I'm planning on trying out for the Jazz Band at my high school at the beginning of the year." She replied simply.

"What school are you going to?" I questioned.

"James Madison. You?" Zoe answered.

"Wait, no way, me too!"

"Really? What classes are you taking?"

I told Zoe almost every single one of my classes. Art, choir, French, and theatre for my electives. Earth science, honors language arts, secondary math one, and world geography for my core classes. Zoe's classes were a lot more complex than mine. Band, creative writing, and debate for her electives. Earth science, honors language arts, secondary math two, and AP human geography for her core classes. Not to mention if she makes it into the jazz band she'll have an extra-curricular.

We talked about our friends and lives in middle school. How I was perfect with grades and had little to no issues while she had to deal with drama and barley passing classes. Why we both made such big changes for high school is a significant question that neither of us know the answer to. The conversation dragged away from school and ventured into our home lives. Zoe told me about her brother Connor, and I told her about my little sister Brooke. She talked about how Connor has changed. How they used to be friends and would play with each other when they were younger and how they've drifted over the years. How much she wishes they could be close again and how it can't happen because of things he's done.

Zoe has dealt with so much shit throughout her life. From fights with her brother to being ignored by her parents, all she wants is to be seen. Usually I'd say the two of us are different people, but in reality, we aren't. After Brooke was born, I felt lost. My life took a sharp turn I didn't see coming. But yet again, doesn't everyone who has younger siblings been through the same thing I went through? I bet it doesn't last as long for them as it did for me. The rejection, I mean. It's been six years. Six damn years and my parents still give Brooke the attention they gave her when she was born. And what have I been doing? I've tried getting them to notice me, but it never works. I learned how to paint and made them something for their anniversary. It ended up in the basement. I drew my dad something for his birthday and it ended up in the basement. I learned how to sculpt things out of clay and made a sculpture for my mom and it ended up in the basement. Everything Brooke makes gets hung up or put on display. Everything I make gets put away. On the outside, we appear as a happy family. On the inside, we appear as a happy family. But it doesn't feel like it.

I finished eating quicker than I had expected and offered to throw Zoe's trash away for her. After many tries, she gave in and let me, telling me to grab her a Dr. Pepper while I was by the drinks. I complied and grabbed myself one.

"Thanks." She said as she popped the tab on the can, sending small droplets of the soda into the air.

"It's no problem." I replied, doing the same.

Everyone at the party had resumed their activities before the meal in no time, which meant Zoe and I had returned to the pool. We were floating on a raft together, chatting about anything that came to mind, when we suddenly felt someone flip the raft, throwing us into the water. I screamed and accidentally swallowed a bit of water. Zoe did the same. We both resurfaced, coughing the liquid out of our lungs while diabolical laughter rang through the air.

"What the hell was that for, Connor?" Zoe yelled, continuing to cough.

"Your screams were hilarious!" He laughed, falling dramatically into the water.

I eventually caught my breath and finally got a glance at what this Connor character looks like. He has pale white skin and unruly dark brown hair. He's incredibly slim with little to no meat on his bones. I brushed loose strands out of my face and tucked them behind my ears. A wave came from behind me, water splashing across Connor's face. I turned to see a wicked grin on Zoe's face. I know exactly what's happening. A water fight. I quickly dove under the water as the fight began, the siblings splashing each other with water. Reaching the concrete wall of the pool, I swung my leg onto the ground and popped myself out. I cautiously ran over to a bucket of water balloons and grabbed one, chucking it at Connor's back. He turned around with a playful glare, paddling himself towards me.

"Shit, shit shit shit shit." I muttered under my breath, grabbing as many balloons as I could, sprinting onto the grass.

I heard Connor leave the water and his wet feet against the concrete. I turned around to see Zoe climbing out of the pool herself, rushing to the pool house. Getting distracted with Zoe's actions, I felt a balloon hit the back of my thigh. My head whipped around to see Connor running in the opposite direction.

Zoe ran up next to me and handed me a super soaker, saying, "Those balloons aren't getting you anywhere."

I gladly took the gun and searched the yard for her brother when I saw an arm disappear behind a bright green bush. Pointing at the bush, we nodded at each other and sneaked up on the boy. I verged left while she went right. Slipping into the groups of people, we approached the bush with smirks on our faces. Zoe held up her fingers, silently counting us down from three. Three, two, one! Both of us blindly fired our super soakers at the bush, hoping we hit Connor. Swifter than we expected, he emerged from the bush and threw his hands into the air in surrender.

"Okay! I surrender!" He yelled.

"We'll forgive you if you get us popsicle." Zoe said, not putting her gun down.

"That's not how surrender works." Connor fought.

I squirted him with water. "Well, it's how it works around here."

"Jesus, fine." he replied, walking over to the cooler with his hands remaining in the air.

"Keep your hands where we can see them." Zoe called out.

"I am." Connor said. He grabbed three rocket pops and headed back over to us. "Have we made peace?"

"Yes." Zoe and I said in unison, each of us taking one popsicle.

As all of us peeled the wrapper off the cool treat, Connor and Zoe's dad approached us. "We're starting fireworks in the front if you'd like to join us."

"We'll be there in a minute." Zoe smiled.

She snatched the wrappers from all our hands and tossed them into the trash. I hurried over to my bag and slipped on my pair of blue shorts, completely disregarding my shirt. No one will care if I'm wearing a swim top and shorts. And besides, it's way too hot. She held out her arm to me to which I took, hooking my arm around hers. For only knowing each other for a few hours, I think we're getting along well. I've never clicked with anyone so easily before so this feels too easy. Maybe Zoe's being forced to hang out with me. It doesn't feel forced, though. Or maybe our personalities function perfectly together. Whatever it is, I don't think it matters. The bond we have is like a friendship that started many years ago. But it's only been hours. And hopefully, it lasts much longer than hours. Maybe we can have what those friendships that last for years have.

Skipping towards the gate that separates the backyard from the front, I grinned and started humming the theme to The Wizard Of Oz to myself. Zoe must have heard me, for she began singing the song. I laughed and sang along as we joined the rest of the party. Glancing around the area, I found an empty spot on the grass. I pulled Zoe to the spot with me and noticed it was right next to my family.

"So that's where you went." My dad commented, throwing a handful of glow sticks at me.

"Did you not just see me chasing Connor around with a squirt gun?" I questioned, taking a seat on the grass, pulling Zoe down with me.

"Apparently not." He replied.

Zoe, Connor, and I each grabbed a handful of the glow sticks off the grass and cracked them in one snap. Light illuminated in our hands and I took one of my red sticks and poked Zoe's shoulder. She poked me back with a blue one. And the war began. We poke each other back and forth with the glow sticks, breaking into a fit of giggles.

"How about you two use the glow sticks for something other than poking each other?" My mom recommended.

"No, I don't think we will." I replied, continuing to poke Zoe.

"Yeah, this is a lot more fun." Zoe added, poking my arm.

After poking each other for way too long, we tired of it and grabbed those plastic connectors and connected the ends of the glow sticks, forming bracelets just in time for the sun to set, putting us into darkness, the glow of streetlights illuminating our surroundings. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a bright white light appear. My head snapped to look at the light to find it was someone handing a sparkler to a small child. I smirked and turned to Zoe to find her looking at me. Her cheeks dusted with a light shade of pink as her gray eyes flickered away from my blue ones.

"Hey, wanna go get some sparklers?" I asked.

"Sure!" She smiled.

We headed over to the table that held all the fireworks and grabbed a few sparklers. A man neither of us knew lit them up for us, and off we went into the middle of the street. We waved the sticks around in the air, creating patterns with the sparks. I tried spelling my name in cursive, but spelling Desiree in cursive isn't the easiest thing, and neither is Zoe. Instead, we drew pictures like hearts, stars, and cats. Yes, we drew cats in the air with sparklers. Why would we not? Is that not something that everyone does? Eventually the flammable portion of the sparkler was no more, and we had to toss them into a bucket of water on the curb.

The rest of the night was full of laughter and pure joy, something I sadly haven't experienced in a long time. Fireworks were exploding around every corner you turned. People were running in the street with explosives in their hands, with no fear in their eyes. Zoe and I quickly tired of the noise and went inside. Zoe dragged me upstairs to her room. And it looks exactly what you'd think it would look like. Periwinkle bedding with pink decorative pillows and a white chunky knit blanket displayed across the foot of the bed. The walls are a lighter shade of blue with pink flowers painted on top. White panels cover the bottom half of the walls, creating a sense of contrast. Above her bed sits a display of all the pictures she's taken with her friends and boy, is there a lot.

"Sorry, it's kind of messy right now." Zoe apologized.

"It's alright. My room is in worse condition right now." I laughed. She laughed too.

She began explaining to me how she discovered her bedroom was the perfect place to view fireworks. By simply flicking off the lights and pulling up beanbags to the window, it gave us a front-row seat to a firework show with no noise. You can see the explosions of bright colors for miles and miles across the city. Some are mere specs of light, while others are large bursts of color that illuminate the room. The sounds of the explosions are small pops, some being more powerful than others. The two of us sat in a comfortable silence for quite a while before a pair of feet came down the hallway and towards the bedroom.

"Des, it's time to go." My mom said, cracking open the door.

I groaned and stood up. "Thanks for making this party a lot more tolerable." Zoe said.

"It's no problem." I replied. "So, maybe I'll see you at school?"

"Yeah, maybe. It was nice meeting you." Zoe stood and followed me out of her room.

"You too." I smiled.

Once downstairs, Zoe joined a group of people in the backyard while I headed out to the front door behind my family. I slid into the backseat and pulled my phone out of my backpack to see multiple texts from my friends. I responded to them one by one and quickly resumed my quiet and reserved personality I had at the beginning of the day. Eventually all my notifications had receded, and it left me staring out the window of the car, watching as buildings and fireworks sped past us in blurs. Suddenly I gained the feeling you get when you think you forget something somewhere, but you don't know what it is. After sitting and thinking about it for a bit, I realized what I had forgotten. I forgot to ask for Zoe's number.

[fordboyle]

Emphasize that the same pride you take in caring for your pet extends to taking care of your home.

Emphasize that the same pride you take in caring for your pet extends to taking care of your home. And the nights were worse. The Court decided this lawsuit should be a class action on behalf of a "Class," or group of people, that could include you. Melisandre had given Alester Florent to her god on Dragonstone, to conjure up the wind that bore them north. Where is my Pulitzer?Close students of presidential politics such as the eminent Michael Barone and Charles Krauthammer know that liberals go to painful lengths to live up to their prototypical image. If Mens ADIDAS ORIGINALS resented in the heat of blood, it would probably extenuate a homicide to manslaughter, upon the same principle with the case stated by Lord Hale, that if A riding on the road, B had whipped his horse out of the track, and then A had alighted and killed B.. With an impatient gesture he puma red bull racing evo cat papuci de casa din pasla ii flung the paper on the table, rapping it vigorously with the stick to which the paper was fastened, and blazing with personal dignity, and crimson with punch and amour Propre, in his turn he fastened his little bloodshot eyes on the offensive old man. They sit in camping chairs, drink Big Gulp sodas, and get blank stares.. Black ash and dying embers were all that remained of the hearthfire. The captain had only to look at him to see that the white knight was ghete galbene piele ill at ease. G. The watchdog group specifically called out a 2007 episode that featured dialogue about bestiality and sex with vegetables and filed an indecency complaint with the FCC for a strip club scene in a 2008 episode.. So this mat and the plug I linked would work together, yes?Any ever so slightly conductive surface should easily provide sufficient conductivity for ESD purposes. “A sure cure for constipation,” said Tyrion. "It may be bikes btt usadas that a family may need to pay an electricity bill, and there aren't any organizations in that community that can help them address them, so they take care of that with a grant awarded to the school district," Garza said. Tahanto Regional, at Fino Field in Milford.. Violence, displacement and hunger are on the rise in the country as the Obama administration has extended the war for a third time. In 2011 Lewis McGowan starred as a little boy who could barely wait for Christmas, the star last year was Monty The Penguin. He thought of Tysha and wondered where whores go. I shuddered, and I, too, cried out. We hope that consumers will engage with our rich brand story that is 104 years in the making.". The right of masters to dispose of the time of their slaves has been distinctly recognized by the Creator of all things, who is surely at liberty to vest the right of property over any object in whomsoever he pleases. A Hindoo, who knew nothing of this generous and beautiful book, except from such pamphlets as Mr. The Narraqqa could stand a new rudder and lines, and the Banded Lizard has some cracked oars, but they will serve. We went in to Natasha. "And if I can help, even with a loaf of homemade bread to a family, then that's great. His account says it was Syrax, Rhaenyra’s she-dragon, which makes more sense than Munken’s version. Tickets are $7, available at the door. There will be spearwives too. It was a mode of death which, to use the language that Cicero in his day applied to crucifixion, “ought to be forever removed from the sight, hearing, and from the very thoughts of mankind.” And to this horrible scene two white men were WITNESSES!. “Of course not. His goal set the stage for a wild finish in the gold medal game.. The way the mists threw back the shifting light made their features seem bestial, half-human, twisted. His rondels were wrought in the shape of human heads, with open mouths that shrieked in agony. All experience proves the contrary. But this he dolce gabanna adidași bărbații neglected to do.. This was a good meet to help me get ready for states. The taste was sweet solace on his tongue, so he lit a candle and poured himself another. Metrics have become very important in the overall measurement of how effective social media is. And she told me to be nice to grandfather and to talk to him. That when we made the decision to partner with Renee Yarbrough in our adidas stan smith j white tactile blue first Be Healthy Challenge. Miller called to her husband, who was in the front porch, and he ran out and seized the man by the collar, and tried to stop him. He passed over a warhammer (too long), a studded mace (also too heavy), and half a dozen longswords before he found a dirk he liked, a nasty piece of steel with a triangular blade. If you want to talk or anything even a question or two you can contact me through facebook (Braxton Brown Dumas). Each of them had given her a silver stag, so she would only need to count the coins. Website is promoting stolen property and land. You despise me, don’t you? You see how much charming simplicity there is in me, what candour, what bonhomie! I confess everything to you, even my childish caprices. The justification for issuing the very intrusive search and production warrants have given the the public insight into the conduct of those very close to the mayor some of whom are clearly associated with the criminal element of society.. Crowfood, they call him. Yandry stole a glance at Septa Lemore from time to time as he was checking the lines. * * * You have made that resolution absolutely necessary to the quiet of the South! But you now revoke that resolution! And you pass the Rubicon! Let me not be misunderstood. Any one who should have travelled in the cars at that time might have seen a venerable-looking black man, all izraeli kézműves ékszerek whose air and attitude indicated a patient humility, and who seemed to carry a weight of overwhelming sorrow, like one who had long been acquainted with grief. Prince Valkovsky had a rather large flat, though he lived alone. Bailey, to help me out of it. Headlines: Brittany Murphy to be buried today after private funeral; father plans to skip service. In lieu of flowers, donations to Heart Stroke Foundation or the Northumberland Humane Society would be greatly appreciated.. Maesters are supposed to put aside old loyalties oneil mellény when they don their chains, but I cannot forget that Theomore was born a Lannister of Lannisport and claims some distant kinship to the Lannisters of Casterly Rock. He took my hand and began to press it in his. But this feeling soon passed off. My son’s men have searched every inch of that damp and dreary island and turned up not so much as a single gemstone or speck of gold. Joins seven other states that have beefed up security measures for National Guard members.Many of those states governors signed executive orders in the days following the Chattanooga shooting. For notwithstanding nike jean jacket (for some purposes) a slave is regarded by law as a person, yet generally he is a mere chattel personal, and his right of personal protection belongs to his master, who can maintain an action of trespass for the battery of his slave.