#the ones I give FA Basil

[dyesprout0ysphoria]

Tried new eyes on Headspace Basil because I want to stylize and mess around with my artstyle more and....

GOD WHY IS HE SO MIPY

HE'S SO CUTE I CAN'T AUGHHHH

sobbignh

[gryficowa]

Boycott!

People, when someone uses "Jumblr" tags to spread Islamophobia and Israeli propaganda: I sleep

People, when someone uses the tag for a fundraising post: I wake up

It's just that, to me, the former sounds more sus, seriously, if someone used autism tags in my place to discriminate or support genocide, I would feel fucking more offended by it than if someone simply added a tag to collections, if you believe in the latter for lack of respect, and the first one for something ok, something has gone wrong in your head

Now that I have your attention:

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I feel disappointed that there is a tag limit on this site, which makes it difficult to reach people (They don't even tell you that there is a limit, they just don't display all the tags and it sucks)

They could just give a tag limit message, not that you're giving tags, only to discover that many of them don't have…

[ghost-town-story]

FebruarOC Day 2: Basil

(Warning for gun mentions here, but it's just target practice this time)

Falcon paused a few steps into the gun range. At this time of night, the place was usually empty, giving Falcon free reign to mess with the lights and hijack the speakers. But instead of the quiet darkness he’d come to expect, one corner of the room was lit up. Falcon debated leaving the other person alone, but ultimately his curiosity won out and he headed in the direction of the lights.

At the end of the room, almost hiding behind the wall partition, was a kid. Falcon slowed to a stop to watch him. He didn’t make any attempt to avoid being noticed, considering the kid was wearing headphones to protect his hearing and he was entirely focused on the target at the other end of the range.

The kid couldn’t be much older than ten, but there was a familiarity about him that nagged at Falcon despite being certain that he probably hadn’t interacted with him before. He also handled the gun with more confidence than any kid his age should have handling firearms, though Falcon was glad that he wasn’t overconfident and doing stupid shit because of it.

As he watched, the kid let out a breath and pulled the trigger.

Steady hands, Falcon noted as the sound of the shot echoed through the room. A second later, he shook his head emphatically, as if he could dislodge the thoughts that settled there. The kid was just that, a kid. It wasn’t Falcon’s place to have any say in how he was raised, but he could do his part by not dragging him deeper.

The kid breathed once, twice, then fired again, completely unbothered as the gun recoiled in his hands.

Falcon let out a long breath. Kid or not, he was already damn decent at handling a gun without freaking out or shaking.

Oh fuck it.

Falcon flipped on the lights. The kid set the gun down in a hurry and whirled around, pulling off his headphones. Falcon raised an eyebrow, waiting to see what the kid would do first.

The kid looked around as if expecting Falcon to have backup just around the corner before he met Falcon’s gaze. “I’m allowed to be here,” he said. “Kestrel gave me the whole gun safety lecture.”

“Mmhm.” Falcon didn’t let up on the judgmental look. “Acting pretty guilty. Plus, how old are you, like, ten?”

The kid’s expression settled into something like indignation, though his cheeks colored with a blush. “I’m eleven. Almost twelve. And I…” He hesitated, glancing around again. “I wanted to practice shooting,” he admitted. “But Dad thinks it’s… He thinks all I need to know are the basics.”

“What, is he expecting you to go nova and burn yourself out within a year?”

“No!” The vehemence surprised Falcon, and apparently the kid himself, because he immediately took a step back like he could reel it back into something more appropriate.

“No,” he repeated, quieter now. “He just… wants to make sure I don’t have to rely on anything or anybody to help me. Even Nova powers, if I…”

Falcon rolled his eyes. “Sure, knowing hand-to-hand is good if you get in a tight spot,” he said. “But,” He crossed the distance between them and picked up the gun the kid had been using. One glance at the kid saw him putting his headphones back on. Falcon gave him an approving nod, then activated his own hearing protection, raised the gun, and fired three shots in quick succession.

The target jolted as the bullets hit dead center.

Falcon set the gun down and turned back to the kid. He waited for the kid to remove his headphones again before finishing his sentence. “If you want to avoid getting in a tight spot in the first place, guns are gonna be your friend there.” He held out his hand. “I’m Falcon.”

The kid blinked a few times, then he reached out to take Falcon’s hand. Despite his hesitance, his grip was sure. “Basil.”

“Ah.” Familiarity clicked into place for Falcon. “Bay’s kid.”

Basil nodded.

A shame, Falcon thought to himself. Bay was notorious for being a self-reliant hardass who chafed at the mere idea of Falcon helping to cover his ass. And, apparently, he was already teaching those qualities to his kid.

But Falcon was petty, and Basil had steady hands and a fondness for guns that Bay wouldn’t approve of, so he bared his teeth in a grin. “Wanna learn to be a sniper?”

Basil blinked. “Why?”

“I’m sure Boss would appreciate having another sniper on hand if needed,” Falcon said. “And you’ve got steady hands.”

Basil looked at his hands, then back at Falcon, eyes narrowing like he was trying to solve a puzzle.

“Your choice.” Falcon shrugged. “I’m not gonna make you get Bay’s permission.”

Basil scoffed, almost involuntarily as he immediately covered his mouth with his hand.

Falcon smirked. “Yeah, that’s exactly why I don’t give a shit about his permission. Up to you.”

Basil didn’t immediately give his answer. He slowly lowered his hand from his mouth, looking down the range at the target he and Falcon had been shooting. Falcon leaned against the partition, giving the kid time to think about it.

“Do I have to decide right now?” Basil asked.

“Nah.” Falcon shook his head. “Take your time to think. I’m usually here most nights, or else you can give Kess your answer and they’ll pass the message along to me. Sound good?”

Basil nodded.

“Sweet.” Falcon gave in to the urge and ruffled Basil’s hair. The look he got in return was wavering between bemusement and indignation.

Falcon figured it was time for him to dip and let Basil figure his stuff out. “See ya around kid.” He pushed off of the partition, flashed a lazy cross between a salute and a wave, then headed for the door of the gun range.

“I—” Basil started, sounding like he was still stuck in the limbo of whether or not to be offended. “Okay.”

Falcon left the range without another look back, deciding to forgo his own target practice in favor of hunting down Kestrel and making sure the kid actually had permission to be in there by himself.

[anonprotagging]

My name is Basil I live in Gaza , My story is sad and painful. From More than 4 years ago, I left my wife Sanaa jiuda,and my four children,Fatma 15 years old,, Ahmed 13 years old ,yazan 10 years old, Selaa 7 year's old in Gaza and moved to live in Canada. Throughout this period, I was trying to obtain papers for them to move to live with me in Canada but cruel fate wanted this hard war to begin in Gaza, so that I could live with death a hundred times every day, and I blame myself .

They live in Gaza, hell, every day, every minute, under a barrage of fire that maybe take my family any moment,as kills taked loved ones, and neighbors in front of their eyes I wait for my family’s turn to ask myself one question every day. I wonder, will fate give them another deadline to live, and will they survive until tomorrow’s sun rises .

If it's up to me, I hope I can get them out of Gaza today before tomorrow,but my loved ones, my children, my wife I pity them very much, so I thought that I must find a way to save them and get them out of Gaza, But I do not have enough money to get them out of Gaza to come to Canada. My family consists of 5 people, my wife and four children, and I need 15,000 US Dollars for each person, which includes the costs of getting them out of Gaza and waiting for them in Egypt for a period of no less than 6 months, which includes the costs of renting a house for them, their living costs, and the price of their travel tickets

pls be kiend with me and help me py add my GoFundMe link in your page until i can collect the necessary amount until i can take my family outside of gaza soon.

https://gofund.me/e92e2796

Hi Basil, I checked your gofundme and I am so sorry about all the horror your family is going through, I'd be happy to share and donate!!

Don't be put off by the currently empty tumblr account -- Basel is # 148 on the Vetted Fundraisers list! I verified that the gofundme numbers/links are the same, and he's only at $4k/$105k at the moment 😢

[mlimby]

My name is Basil I live in Canada , My story is sad and painful. From More than 4 years ago, I left my wife Sanaa jiuda,and my four children,Fatma 15 years old,, Ahmed 13 years old ,yazan 10 years old, Selaa 7 year's old in Gaza and moved to live in Canada. Throughout this period, I was trying to obtain papers for them to move to live with me in Canada but cruel fate wanted this hard war to begin in Gaza, so that I could live with death a hundred times every day, and I blame myself .

They live in Gaza, hell, every day, every minute, under a barrage of fire that maybe take my family any moment,as kills taked loved ones, and neighbors in front of their eyes I wait for my family’s turn to ask myself one question every day. I wonder, will fate give them another deadline to live, and will they survive until tomorrow’s sun rises .

If it's up to me, I hope I can get them out of Gaza today before tomorrow,but my loved ones, my children, my wife I pity them very much, so I thought that I must find a way to save them and get them out of Gaza, But I do not have enough money to get them out of Gaza to come to Canada. My family consists of 5 people, my wife and four children, and I need 15,000 US Dollars for each person, which includes the costs of getting them out of Gaza and waiting for them in Egypt for a period of no less than 6 months, which includes the costs of renting a house for them, their living costs, and the price of their travel tickets

pls be kiend with me and help me py add my GoFundMe link in your page until i can collect the necessary amount until i can take my family outside of gaza soon.

https://gofund.me/e92e2796

^ link to gofundme

[skullofrome]

I’ve been getting a lot of GFMs in my inbox so I’m going to make one big post compiling them all, plus information about them all:

^ Ahmed Koka, $5,170 CAD/$150,000 CAD. Ahmed and his family are currently homeless in Gaza due to the occupation. Their cars and businesses have been destroyed.

^ Rawda Harb, $24,260 CAD/$90,000 CAD. URGENT: Rawda, currently living in Canada, is trying to save her family members, 15 of whom are children in Rafah, from the occupation.

^ Osama Basil, €1,115/€15,000. Osama is a web developer from Gaza trying to rebuild his life and further his education, pursuing a master’s degree essential for his work.

^ Mahmoud Helles, €10,802/€50,000. URGENT: Mahmoud’s house was destroyed by the occupation, and he and his family were forced to evacuate to the South. His family has his father, who is sick with diabetes, high blood pressure, heart disease and cartilage issues, his mother, his 6 brothers, and his 40 grandchildren, 2 of which are blind/visually impaired. He is evacuating him and his family to Egypt.

^ Ola Ferwana, €3,042/€35,000. URGENT: Ola is a mother of three beautiful children - Yamen, Qusai, and Mira, who lives in Gaza. Mira is 10 months old, Yaman is 7, and Qusai is 5. Her husband went to Egypt 2 days before the 7th October for medical treatment. They have no food, no electricity and no water. Ola hopes to cover the costs and safely get to Egypt.

^ Mohammed Mikki, $1,719/$20,000. Mohammed is a 24 year old who specialises in multimedia technology living in North Gaza. He worked hard for his education, but the occupation destroyed his home, his university, and his work. He hopes to escape the occupation and to expand his education.

^ Muhammed Musa, $1,706/$20,000. Muhammed is a 26 year old husband and father living in Gaza who has lost his home and job in the war. His family had moved multiple times due to the occupation with nothing but the clothes on their back. His wife was forced to give birth to their son in a tent without proper medical care. Muhammed hopes to evacuate Gaza and save his son from the diseases and epidemics caused from the war.

^ Hadeel Mikki, €15,542/€35,000. Hadeel is a mother of 2 living with her husband, two daughters, mother and 2 brothers in Gaza. Her uncle’s family was martyred during the war and her father-in-law passed away due to lack of medical treatment. Her and her family have no resources or food to feed themselves. Hadeel wants to secure the passage of her family, comprising her husband, 2 daughters, mother, 2 brothers, and herself, through the Rafah Crossing to Egypt.

^ Haya Nahed, €78,288/€100,000. Haya is a woman with a severe penicillin allergy living in Gaza. Her family includes her parents, 2 sons, and 4 daughters, 2 of whom have allergies. Her sister, Amal, also has an allergy to medication like Paracetamol and Ibuprofen. Haya and her family were evacuated from North Gaza when their home was burned and destroyed. Her father’s factory, used to produce foods like Maf'toul (Palestinian Couscous), was also destroyed in the occupation. The family’s workplaces have also been destroyed. Amal is a college student studying architecture, but her education was halted by the war. Haya is working to help her family, including herself, her siblings, parents and children, get through the Rafah Crossing in Egypt.

[helloimapinkfrog]

My name is Basil I live in Canada , My story is sad and painful. From More than 4 years ago, I left my wife Sanaa jiuda,and my four children,Fatma 15 years old,, Ahmed 13 years old ,yazan 10 years old, Selaa 7 year's old in Gaza and moved to live in Canada. Throughout this period, I was trying to obtain papers for them to move to live with me in Canada but cruel fate wanted this hard war to begin in Gaza, so that I could live with death a hundred times every day, and I blame myself .

They live in Gaza, hell, every day, every minute, under a barrage of fire that maybe take my family any moment,as kills taked loved ones, and neighbors in front of their eyes I wait for my family’s turn to ask myself one question every day. I wonder, will fate give them another deadline to live, and will they survive until tomorrow’s sun rises .

If it's up to me, I hope I can get them out of Gaza today before tomorrow,but my loved ones, my children, my wife I pity them very much, so I thought that I must find a way to save them and get them out of Gaza, But I do not have enough money to get them out of Gaza to come to Canada. My family consists of 5 people, my wife and four children, and I need 15,000 US Dollars for each person, which includes the costs of getting them out of Gaza and waiting for them in Egypt for a period of no less than 6 months, which includes the costs of renting a house for them, their living costs, and the price of their travel tickets

pls be kiend with me and help me py add my GoFundMe link in your page until i can collect the necessary amount until i can take my family outside of gaza soon.

I am so sorry i didnt answer this sooner!! i had to check if it was real because unfortunately there are a lot of scamers here :(

id recommend you at least post your gfm link or reblog your verification post!! i am so sorry for your family and i hope you can reunite soon

This campaign is verified!!!

[blackvelvetwriteson]

𝐌𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆

                                             (  ~ Kirishima Eijirou x Black Male                                                                 Reader Insert ~ )

GENRE: Fluffy Fluff!                                                                  

FANDOM: Boku No Hero Academia (My Hero Academia)

TRIGGER WARNINGS: There are none today! Just fluffy fluff!

SUMMARY: Reader-Chan gets a little self conscious because Kirishima is gone a lot because of his work and he doesn’t want to be left behind. There MIGHT be a part 2 in the works so stay on the lookout for that!

WORD COUNT: 3083

(Headers are mine, but the art inside of them are not! Please don’t steal or repost without credit!)

You two had been together for awhile at this point. The last year of UA was when you finally had the guts to move your friendship further- you were excited as could be to hear that Kirishima, the literal man of your dreams, was YOURS now, and not just your “bro.” You both had really random shift hours and patrols; sometimes you would work together, sometimes Kirishima had to leave in the middle of the night, sometimes you had to leave at the first hairline fracture crack of dawn. It was extremely random and spontaneous, just like your guys’s relationship so it worked just fine. 

 One thing that was a constant was your fight to see who was manlier, you or him. You loved it, and so did he. Sometimes you were little spoon, sometimes you were big spoon. Sometimes you made dinner and sometimes he did- even though you knew that he was trying to mimic you without necessarily asking for help. This picked up especially close to the holiday season when he had to be gone more and more often; where he’d take jobs in neighboring states and territories but he was never so far away as to say you couldn’t ever spend time with him. That’d been the case for this week and it hit you especially hard since you had plans with him during your known off days and the weekend.

You walked through the door sniffing the air and smiling a little as you walked through the house, your eyes glistening as you smelled him in the kitchen trying to mimic something that you’d done a few weeks ago; you made rice, shrimp, minced octopus, and a bit of hoisin sauce you’d managed to trade with someone in exchange for your cooking. It didn’t smell right, but you were most definitely proud that he got quite close. It was the lack of seasoning and he knew that. He just wanted an excuse to feel your broad chest against his back as you showed him exactly what to do; but he’d never admit that. Through the years, he really grew into his skin, tall and stocky with an INCREDIBLY muscular body, and since his sleek red hair had been trained to be spiked, his beautiful mane sat perfectly on his shoulders with natural low spikes, he looked almost like a lion and it fit him well. His bangs framed his face and left you to see his eyes, and you could tell that he’d try to style it differently for you so you could look into his eyes. His eyes were sharp and keen and bright red, sparkling every single time he saw you, a couple more scars and marks making his face, his teeth still pearly white and sharp for you. Everything about him you were infatuated with from how he walked to how he cuddled with you while he thought you were asleep, to how he challenged you with every little thing.

You leaned in the doorway a little, your tongue running over your bottom lip as you straightened out your durag and smirked a little, your arms crossing over your broad chest as you tilt your head and listened to his mumbling.

“And then he did this…? I think? Um…” he leaned over the counter and looked over all of the- wrong- spices that he grabbed out of the cabinet overhead. “He just did it so… Um…”

You walked up behind him and wrapped your muscular, eager arms around his waist and pulled him into you with a soft laugh against his ear causing him to whine softly before catching himself and forcing a small pout that melted instantly into a smile.

“You know you were supposed to cook the shrimp in the hoisin sauce, right? And then mix it with the rice that…” You look over his shoulder and laugh quietly as you gently remove the lid to the pan. “…Needs a lil more butter, AND to be turned *off,”* you tease with a soft smile.

“Wait but what about simmer,” he asked with a soft pout before looking over his shoulder at you, his tan face flushing over as he nibbled on his own lip, his eyes and his mind wandering all the same. You notice, and of course, you couldn’t help yourself but to tease him more, one of your eyes squinting as you kissed his forehead and watched his face flush over more.

“Simmer ain’t for rice… Well not white rice and not right now. And it was done… Ain’t you Japanese? How do you not know this?” You chuckle softly as you wrap one of your arms around his shoulders and pull him back into you, your hand still rested on his waist.

“Hey man! Y-You know I never really had time to cook… B-Before we got together with training and hero work and studying and- a-ah!” He shut up and blushed as he felt your teeth nibbling at the skin on his neck.

“What? A lil teasing got you feeling some typa way or what?” You chuckle softly before easily turning him around to face you, double checking again to make sure that everything on the stove was off and NOT on simmer. “You mean to tell me thatcha homies never cooked for you? Like.. Ever? Not for breakfast or lunch? Or?” You laugh softly as you tilt his head back towards you, trying to avoid your gaze. “Yo… Look at me,” you say softly, your thumb gently and slowly tracing over his jawline.

“I-I’m looking! A-And no.. I just like hearing you talk…” He whined softly, gently nipping at your hand as he closed his eyes. “You’re really pushing it for just getting home! Let me make dinner… You still need to get changed and stuff too! You know our rule,” he said with a growing pout, one of his fingers waving in your face, you gazing at him with a laid back look.

You rose your hands and tilted your head a little. “Fa sho,” you chuckle before giving him a quick kiss and turning him back around. “But that’s gon have to wait until I show you AGAIN what seasonings to use,” you laugh as you eyeball what he already has out. “Hm… Onion salt and garlic powder? W… Why?” You look at him with a quirked eyebrow and he just looked away with an embarrassed look as he rubbed his arm. “Cayenne pepper? I mean you got the right idea, but you’re supposed to cook it in *with* the meat, not sprinkle it on top… It tastes starchy and takes away from the flavor,” you explain softly as he leans back into you starting to get a little emotional. “Babe. Basil? Wh… What was the thinking?” You laughed a soft little hearty laugh, but you eased up on the teasing as you noticed his heavy sigh. “Hey… Just a little bit of teasing, aight? Don’t take it to heart,” you say softly as you gently hug his waist, burying your head into the crook of his neck, your durag covered by his fiery red hair.

“I’m never gonna be as good at this at you,” he murmured quietly and he gently brushed his hair back.

“Baby,” you mumble into his skin causing him to shudder a little. “I feel you, but this really ain’t a competition… I like these moments anyway… Teaching you or coming home to seeing you in the kitchen… Or… Impersonating me or something- but not too much on that,” you say quietly as you tilt his head up and look into his watery eyes. “I know everything with us is a competition, and it’s hella fun, trust me. But… Sometimes we don’t need to compete… Everything about you is good, great, impeccable actually. You’re my manly man and I’m yours,” you say softly, your free hand wandering over his body, then down his arm until you locked your fingers together. “I ain’t even gon’ lie to you, everything about you makes me feel sumn fierce and it’s all for you, and no matter how much we compete, we’re still in this TOGETHER, you feel me?” You rose an eyebrow as him as he finally met and held your gaze.

“I guess,” he whispered softly before looking away again, his blush riding under his wide eyes. You couldn’t help but to laugh quietly under your breath and he just crossed his arms and watched as you grabbed down the pepper, seasoned salt, and seafood seasoning, slowly turning the stove on again to a simmer as you mixed the food around. “Your little.. Lingo… It’s cute,” he said quietly as he kissed against your jawline and hummed softly.

“I mean if you say so,” you practically whisper as you shrug. “It’s just how I talk where I’m from… Not a lot of people do… It’s a long story,” you say with a small smile as you shake your head a little.

“We have.. time,” he practically choked out as he looked down at your hand gently and stirring the simmering seafood and he smiled a little as you added the seasonings.

“Let me rephrase then,” you say as you gently play in his hair. “It’s a long story that I’m not interested in talking about right now,” you say with a laugh before feeling him nudge into you. “You really wanna do this right now,” you tease as you lift him off of his feet and push him onto the counter, standing in between his legs. His eyes widened and he leaned into you with a small smirk, his arms draped over your shoulders.

“My king,” he mumbled softly before pressing a soft kiss into your forehead.

“My manly man… Is there sum’n you wanna say?” You tilt your head a little, looking at his expression that he usually took when there was something on his mind.

“I mean… No… But… We probably should talk about this anyway,” he said softly as he let out a soft pained sigh and looked down in his lap. You didn’t force him to speak or look at you, sort of already anticipating the news.

“Well… Um… Tamaki wanted to meet up for this meeting with Fat Gum this weekend… So… I-It’ll count as overtime hours and I’ll get paid the same amount of overtime but like… If I were to do a month of a collective 25 odd hours a week. I promise when I get back, I’ll take you out and we can go do something.. Or something,” he said softly as he rubbed the back of his neck. You adjusted your durag and frowned a little before hugging him close, your strong arms wrapped around him and instinctively, he did the same, his eyes closing as he rested his head on top of yours.

“You aint gotta do all that… I understand that we’re heroes now. We aint got all the time in the world to just… waste the day away right? And aint Tamaki the one that was training with you in high school? Tell him I said hi… When are you leaving?”

Kirishima smiled a little, secretly relieved to have someone as understanding as yourself to comfort him. “Look… I’m not sure an exact time… But on Friday when you wake up in the morning I won’t be there… I’ll be close by! For the most part… I’m just rooming with Tamaki in a hotel because we don’t live close enough for s-stuff like that in order for me to make it o-on time,” he said softly with a wavery voice. You quirk an eyebrow at him and peer curiously into his glistening eyes and he leaned into your hands with a soft sniff. “I-I’m sorry,” he whispered softly.

“You’re good,” you say softly as your concern grows. “Aye, don’t cry… There’s no need to cry,” you say softly as you turn the stove off again, the meat being done in the pan. “What’s up baby boy? Talk to me,” you say lovingly, your thumbs gently stroking at the small sunburn that left the imprint of his headgear on his face.

“I… I d-don’t want to be left behind! Baby I.. I fucking love you… But with me being gone so much- I just- baby… I don’t like being away from you… I can’t sleep right… I don’t really eat too much and then it makes my quirk all fucked off and then I’m not training right and then I-“

You shut him up with a kiss against his lips, your hand traveling to the back of his head, pulling him closer as you slowly eased the kiss into being more passionate but still loving. In truth, you knew exactly what he was talking about. You didn’t like not cuddling with him in bed and waking up without him in the morning. You didn’t like that he was gone so often; however you understood because he was a hero that was climbing the ranks to the top. He was in the top 5, narrowly missing the number 4 spot and for that you were proud of him. You nibbled his lip gently as you pulled away and he shuddered as he whined quietly. “H-Hey..! D-Don’t just… D-Do that,” he whispered softly and you gently made him look at you.

“Shhh,” you whisper softly and you laugh as your thumbs gently stroked at his cheeks. “Actually, I’m worried about how I’M gonna be left behind… I mean come on you’re nearly the top 3 hero… And I’m.. Just me,” you shrug and brush his spikes out of his face.

“Pff..” He waved his hand a little and tried to look away, but you wouldn’t let him. “I… T-That doesn’t matter to me, I don’t care if you were dead last.. I’d never leave you behind,” he said softly as he grabbed your wrist, but your semi-stern gaze wouldn’t give. “What? W-Why’re you looking a me like that?”

“Like what?” You weren’t aware of how you looked, how angry you looked but then you became aware of how tense your jaw was and you shook your head a little. “Nevermind.. Nevermind that,” you say softly leaning in to kiss his shoulder before pulling away. “Everything’s done now… You could scramble a couple of eggs to spice everything up a little bit, but… It’s fine as is,” you say as you back away and go to leave so you could change at least before you ate and showered, your mind racing a million miles a minute. You couldn’t help but to be a little self conscious. I mean, YOUR boyfriend was number 4 ranked hero and he was attractive AND confident-for the most part. He was everything you ever wanted and then some with how compassionate he was, and how passionate he is about being a hero of his community instead of the unnecessary fame or money. As you reached your room, your mind veered way off and you felt your jaw clench again. You thought about how different you’d be without him, without him climbing on top of you at 3 in the morning just because you weren’t cuddling him right, or your friendly banters and competitions. Your eyes started to burn with tears you refused to let out as you pulled your shirt off and you let out a shaky sigh.

What you didn’t know was that Kirishima was in the doorway having already made your bowls, his arms crossed as he silently watched you. He watched you change, your choppy irregular movements, he heard your sniffles and growls trying to suppress the tears you wanted to let out but refused yourself to. He hung his head thinking he did something wrong and he walked in behind you after you pulled on some joggers, his cheek pressed against your back, his arms wrapped around your waist. “I’m gonna make it up to you, I promise,” he whispered softly as he nuzzled into you, your hands massaging at his forearms.

“Make what up to me? You didn’t do anything wrong,” you say softly, looking over your shoulder at him.

“I feel like I-I did something… And I don’t want to be away from you so much… I don’t know, I’ll just… I’ll think of something… It could be a weekend getaway trip thing or something-“ you cut him off with a soft shushing noise and you leaned back into him.

“You’re a top hero.. You’e a busy man. The only thing we can do for now is enjoy our time together, yeah? Besides you act like it’s gonna be a parting forever. Nah, I aint abouta let that happen, because I love you. I love you so damn much and nothing is ever gonna change that, you hear me,” you say softly as you run your stocky fingers through Kirishima’s thick red hair. He hummed softly and leaned his head into your hand gently, his hands taking you by the waist and pulling you closer to him.

“I love you so much… How did I get so lucky to have someone like you,” he giggled softly as his eyes started to tear up. “So understanding… So… Attractive- inside AND out… I don’t deserve you,” he said softly as he kissed your neck gently. Of course, you hum softly feeling his warm, soft lips against the tender skin of your neck and your breathing instantly gets a little heavier, more shaky.

“K-Kirishima-“ you say softly, trying to keep your composure. “I-If you don’t stop we finna be up here a bit longer than we was supposed to be,” you laugh softly with your idle threat. “And I’m not tryna eat dinner when it’s cold.” You looked over your shoulder and caught his keen gaze from behind the bangs of his mane as he bit into your shoulder with a laugh. “H-HEY-“

“Heheheh,” he laughed softly as he kissed the side of your head. “I guess you’re right… But, don’t think this is over my cute little king,” he laughed more, slapping your ass hard as he left the room. “I’ll see you downstairs,” he said with a wave and a suggestive wink.

“That boy,” you whispered softly as you pulled on one of his shirts. “Number 4 finna get his ass whooped by number 15,” you laugh softly, closing your blinds as you skipped down the stairs to meet your boyfriend for dinner and movies.

[feathers-and-fisticuffs]

Just A Crybaby...

[chapter list heeeeere]

“You think you’re real clever don’t you?!”  Oleana had him pinned, the thick sharp heel of her boot digging into his bad leg, making him cry out.  “You just had to go and open your smart little mouth!”

Basil tried to pull his leg out from under her but every move shot waves of agony through his knee.  “I’m sorry!  I’m sorry  I won’t do it again please!”

“You’re damn right you won’t do it again...”  She lifted her leg, but reached down and grabbed him by the collar, pulling him towards her face.  “If you ever tell Rose about this, I’ll make sure you never walk again.”  She threatened him with a venom that he had no doubt was real and deadly.  “You’re not fit to worship the ground he walks on.  You’re just a crybaby.”

She let go of him and stalked off, leaving him to cry on the floor, clutching his leg tightly and waiting desperately for the pain to go away.

Basil woke up as the sun began to stream through the blinds and into his eyes, rolling over and coming face to face with Kabu.  Oh.  He had forgotten about last night.  A feeling of guilt started to rise in his gut.  This was all his fault... He should leave so Kabu could sleep.  But he felt so safe with Kabu beside him... Maybe he could afford to be selfish a little while longer.  He snuggled down a little further into the warm blankets, trying to pull them out from underneath Kabu without waking him, and scooted a little closer to him, closing his eyes.  He promised himself, this would be the last time he showed his weakness.

Kabu woke slowly from sleep, groaning from trying to fit himself onto Basil’s small bed without knocking the boy off.  “Mmgnh.... Basil?  Are you awake?”  He whispered finally.

“I’m awake.”

“Oh, good morning.”  He gave him a little awkward side hug, which he found difficult still with sleeping limbs.  “Ugh... did you sleep well?”

Basil nodded shyly.  “Yeah.  I’m sorry....”  He looked away.

“What?  Don’t be sorry.  I don’t ever want you thinking you can’t come to me if you need me.”  He ruffled Basil’s hair.  “Let’s go get some breakfast, hm?  I’m hungry.”  He forced a smile, hoping Basil couldn’t tell how angry he still was with Nanu.  

Basil got up and began searching for clothes, and Kabu slowly, slooowly managed to straighten his back, and knees, and stand up.  He stretched, took a few tentative steps to pop his knees into place, then quickly left to give Basil some privacy.  He recalled his pokemon that were guarding the door, thanking them for doing a good job, before wandering to the bedroom to find his robe and tossing it on over his sleep clothes.  There was no sign of Nanu, no clothes, no note, nothing.

Maybe that was for the best.

He stumbled downstairs to the kitchen, trying to stretch as he did, really feeling his age after the night he had had.  He hadn’t even noticed the fridge door standing wide open until it shut in front of him.

“Good morning sleepyhead... are you hungry?”  Nanu had a tub of butter under one arm, and a handful of eggs in the other.  He smiled brightly, hoping this would serve as an apology.

It only served to piss Kabu off, and he let out a gruff growl before reaching around him for some bread to toast silently.

“You’re kidding me right now.  You’re just going to give me the silent treatment all day?”

Kabu crossed his arms, keeping his back to Nanu.

Nanu rolled his eyes.  “Fine.  Whatever.”  He grabbed his coffee and cooked his eggs in silence.

When Basil sulked down the stairs, still sleepy eyed and disheveled, they were both seated at opposite ends of the table, glaring at each other over their barely touched meals.

The sight of it caused Basil’s heart to rise in his throat.  He couldn’t shake the feeling that this was his fault.  If he hadn’t been here, this would never have happened.  He tried to turn around and go back to his room, but Kabu had already seen him.  “Good morning, Basil.  Why don’t you come get some breakfast?”

“I’m not hungry...”  He hated that his voice was shaking.

“It’s alright.  Our friend here was just leaving.”

“Did you hear somethin’, Kid?  The wind is getting strong today.”  Nanu growled.  “It almost sounded like some childish old man who can’t take a joke.”

Basil flinched at that and ran back upstairs.

“Nice one, asshole!”  Kabu hissed at Nanu, trying to keep his voice down.  “You wanna keep undoing all of my hard work?!  Why don’t you just go kick his cane out from under him while you’re at it?!”

Nanu was surprised by this outburst.  “Hey, come on!  I didn’t do anything wrong!  Why are you yelling at me?!”

Basil curled up at the top of the stairs and put his hands over his ears.  He didn’t want them to fight, fighting always lead to getting hurt...

“How can you sit there and defend the way we were raised?!  How can you think that anything we went through was a good thing?”  Kabu was struggling to keep his voice down.  

“I’m not!  I never said that I was just saying--”

“I know what you were saying.  But he doesn’t.  You say things like that and he thinks you’re talking about him!  If he had heard you last night...  I never want him to feel the kind of fear we felt.”

Nanu looked into his empty coffee cup.  “Look, I’m sorry.  I’m not good with kids. I’m not good with people.  In general.  Why do you think I fucked off to Alola the first chance I got?  So I could stay away from everyone.”  He said bitterly.

Kabu sighed and shook his head.  “What happened to you, Nanu..?  You’ve changed.  You used to want to help people.  You used to want to fight for people.”

“The world is cruel, life hurts, then you die.  There’s no point in trying to fight it.”  He didn’t look up from his cup as he spoke.

Kabu gulped, and stood on shaky legs.  “I told you this wasn’t going to work.  I want you gone when we get back.”  Each word ripped his heart out anew.  He didn’t want Nanu to leave, but he had a responsibility to keep Basil safe.  That was all that mattered.  He turned on his heel and disappeared up the stairs, almost tripping on Basil as he turned the corner.

“Oh- Basil--!”  He dropped to his knees in an instant.  “What’s wrong are you hurt?  Did you hurt your leg?”  He wiped the tears that were falling tried to console the shaking boy.

“I’m s-ss-orry!”  He moaned out, unable to keep from bursting out into ugly sobbing.  “It’s a-all my fa-ault!”

Kabu fought back his own tears as he gathered Basil up in his arms and rocked him gently.  “Shh... It’s not your fault.  None of this is your fault why would you think that?”

“I shouldn’t ha-ave b-bothered you last ngh-night!  I’m just a c-crybaby!”  He sobbed, and Kabu quelled the anger rising inside of him once more.  Nanu had really outdone himself this time.

“Basil I don’t care if you’re still waking me up in the middle of the night when you’re 35.”  He soothed.  “I will always, always be here for you, no matter what.  You understand?”  He wiped Basil’s eyes again.  “You’re not a crybaby.  It was very brave of you to come to me, and tell me what was scaring you.”

“What if I’m 70?”  Basil sniffled.

Kabu smiled.  “Even when you’re old and grumpy like me.”  He poked Basil’s side, happy he got a small giggle out of him.  “You are always allowed to cry.  Feel your feelings, that’s why they’re there.”

Basil wiped his nose on the back of his sleeve.  “Okay...”

“Tell you what.  Why don’t you go get washed up, splash some cold water on your face, and let’s go see what your Scorbunny can do in the wild, eh?”  He helped Basil stand and walked him back to his room.  Kabu was well aware any sadness Basil was holding onto would disappear at the thought of getting to catch his first Pokemon.  He let Basil compose himself and gave him some space while he packed them a bag and a lunch.

Nanu was gone by the time he made it to the kitchen.  He felt a pang of guilt at not saying goodbye.  He just wished they could get their timing right...

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

Basil was looking energetic and excited by the time their flying taxi finally landed.  He had only been to Wedgehurst a few times with Rose on business before, and even then, he wasn’t allowed to just go out and explore.

Kabu let him wander the shops a while, keeping tabs on all of the things Basil pointed out to come back for later.  He gave him some money to buy some potions, and pretty soon they were out in the middle of the tall grass, waiting for the perfect Pokemon to appear.

“Oh!  Basil look!”  He grinned and pointed.  “That one wears eyeliner like yours!”  He teased and elbowed him gently.

Basil blushed.  “You’re making fun of me!”

“I’m not!”  He chuckled.  “It’s a good look, even Pokemon are trying to steal it.”

He huffed, but he had to admit, the little Fox prancing around the tall grass was pretty cute...

“I wanna catch him!”  Basil exclaimed suddenly.  “How do I catch him?”

Kabu put a hand on his shoulder and walked him through it, giving him tips on the best way to battle, trying to keep things simple so that he wouldn’t get frustrated.  

“Hey, you’re doing great!”  He grinned.  “Go ahead and throw a pokeball!  Don’t get discouraged if he doesn’t stay, you can always try again!”

Basil dug in his bag for a pokeball, looking from it to the Nickit and back.  “Just... throw it?”

Kabu nodded.  “Fate will do the rest.”

Basil closed his eyes and lobbed it.  “I can’t watch...”

“Basil look!  Look!” 

He peaked through his fingers nervously, watching the pokeball twitch, once, twice, three times... then a click and a flash.

“You did it!”  Kabu cheered, genuinely excited.

“I... I did..?  I did!  I did it!”  He dropped his cane and ran over to the pokeball, limping slightly.  “I caught you!  You’re my new partner!”  His eyes went wide as the ball twitched in his hand slightly before popping open, the Nickit plopping into his arms.

“Hi!”  Basil laughed and snuggled it close.  “Kabu look I caught him!”

Kabu’s chest swelled with pride.  “You did great.  Keep it up and you’ll be rivaling Leon in no time!”  He winked.  “Oh, and I want you to have this.”  He handed Basil his very own rotom phone.  “I want you to be able to come and go as you please, but I want to be able to get ahold of you, and for you to be able to call if you need help.”

Basil took it gingerly.  “Really..?  Are you sure?”

Kabu nodded.  “You’re old enough to start doing things on your own.  And making your own decisions.  If you want to go work towards being champion, I’ll support you 100%.  If you want to go stay with Leon, and let him mentor you, and help set you up to take over as Chairman of Marcos Cosmos, that’s okay too.  And Piers sees a lot of potential in you, you know... He’s not gym leader anymore, but I know you like dark types like your new little friend, he could help you specialize in them if you’d like.  He would love to have something to keep his hands busy now that Marnie is taking over for him.”

Basil hugged Nickit a little tighter and frowned.  “Um... that’s a lot...”  He said quietly.

Quick to calm him, Kabu put his hands on Basil’s shoulders.  “I know, I know it’s a lot.  But you don’t have to make a decision now.  You don’t have to do any of those things.  I just wanted you to know that no matter what you decide to do, or where you decide to go, I’m proud of you.  And I’ll be here to support you no matter what.”  He smiled when Basil looked up at him.  “I just want you to be happy.”

Basil blushed and looked away.  “You’re too nice to me...”

“I disagree.  I think I’m just the right amount of nice.”  He chuckled.  “Now are you done catching Pokemon?  Or do you have a few more in you do you think?”

Basil grabbed his cane then and rushed forward into the tall grass again then, laughing, his two new Pokemon following close behind, warming right up to each other.

Kabu laughed.  “Hey, wait up!  I’m old!”

[yugyummygot7reactions]

Christmas Drabble Game!

SO. I’ am behind af on posts. I still have 90 in my inbox, but hardly any of them are Christmas-y and I feel like my page needs some holiday cheer. I am keeping this open until 12/20 and I will make sure that all of the requests are done by Christmas Day.

I am only opening this inbox for this drabble game though. If I get any asks for non-drabble posts I will be deleting them. No offense, I just can’t take any more long posts until I get my inbox down to at least 50.

Here are the prompts!! Feel free to choose as many as you like with any member(s).

_________________________________________________

“I thought you said this was eggnog.”

“Even Jesus was given a stable to sleep in.”

“THAT’S IT, COAL FOR EVERYONE.”

“Don’t get your tinsel in a tangle.”

“The tree isn’t the only thing getting LIT this year.”

“Always jingle all the way. No one likes a half-ass jingler.”

“When I think about you, I touch my elf.”

“I can hear those sleigh bells jingling.”/“Halloween ended 3 minutes ago.”

“Your opinion wasn’t in the recipe.”

“It’s beginning to look a lot like cocktails.”

“Sweet but twisted, does that make me a candy cane?”

“All I want for Christmas is you. No, not you”

“One day of coal, 364 days of fun – I’ll take my chances.”

“I’m dreaming of a white Christmas, but if the white runs out – I’ll drink the red.”

“Fa la-la la-la, la-la la no.”

“If you give me a dick-in-a-box, you’re going to be alone on New Year’s.”

“Silent night, holy night. All is calm, all is – OKAY, THAT’S IT.”

“Cookies for Santa, milk for Santa – and protein bars for the reindeer because damn, how many miles?!”

“That is the saddest Christmas tree I’ve ever seen.”

“How many elves on the shelf are too many?”

“Is that coal in your pocket or are you happy to see me?”

“That’s not mistletoe, that’s basil.”

“Shut your filthy mouth; these cookies are my mother’s recipe.”

“Thanks for lending your jacket. It’s…really warm.”

“But it’s Christmas…you’re supposed to be here with me.”

“Your stupid, smelly cat is messing up the Christmas ornaments!”

“Sure, the Christmas tree looks beautiful, but not half as beautiful as you.”

“Ya know, this Christmas cookie frosting would taste a hundred times better on you.”

“What do you mean I have one more present….oh….”

“If you throw that snowball, then that means war.”

“I swear to god, if you sing another goddamn Christmas carol…”

“Where on EARTH did you get that sweater?”

“How did you manage to get tangled up in tinsel?”

“You know, when you said ‘Christmas party,’ this isn’t what I was expecting.”

“Wait, you’re not going home for Christmas?”

“I mean, I knew you had Christmas spirit but this is ridiculous.”

“I feel like there’s more frosting on you than on the gingerbread.”

“But that carol doesn’t even make any SENSE!”

“Hey, want to help me get my parents off my ass about not having a date?”

“No, you’ll burn the house down.”

[is-this-a-skam-account]

@liffeforskaop prompt: I'm so happy you're looking for prompts, I need more elu in my life. Give me ALL the elu fluff you can write - maybe lucas has a bad day because of school or his dad and eliott just spolis him and treats him like the babe-y he is 🙂

Okay, well, my angst-y inner soul took over this prompt (sorry not sorry) but I promise there is fluff. (Also in the beginning there is some stuff going on between Lucas’s mom and dad that may trigger someone, just a fair warning. I didn’t write anything graphic but just thought I should point it out.)

Thank you so much for the prompt!! I hope you like what I wrote! Sorry it took so long to get out, my life has been pretty hectic.

Things started getting bad at home when Lucas was eight. It started with his parents screaming at each other in the kitchen after they believed Lucas was already asleep. It escalated from there. His dad left for a couple weeks. His mom said it was for a business trip.

The screaming stopped after his dad got back, but he noticed his mom wearing long sleeves and pants in the hot weather. There was one day that Lucas came back from a friends house to grab something, and his mom was in the kitchen. He walked in without her noticing, and the kitchen smelled absolutely amazing. His mom was always the best cook. He was about to ask what she was making, but his words got stuck in his throat when he saw the dark bruises that coated her arms and legs.

“Mama?” he asked, startling her that she nearly dropped whatever she had been holding, “did you fall?”

Something flashed across her face as she tried to pull down the short sleeves of her t-shirt, “yes, sweetie,” she said softly, “I fell down the stairs. Why aren’t you at Eliott’s?”

“I came back to grab something, mama.”

She smiled, “okay, sweetie,” she paused, “I’ll make sure to save you some dinner.”

Tears pricked his eyes, “thank you, mama.”

He turned away before she had a chance to give him a sad smile.

Lucas slept over at Eliott’s that night. And the next. And the next. Eliott’s house had become a second home for Lucas. He honestly spent more time there than he did at his own house. Eliott’s mom understood, she was very sweet about Lucas staying over, and Lucas still believes to this day that she makes the best brownies ever.

Eliott understood as well. He understood that Lucas was hurting; that he was hurting bad. Their friendship had been what saved Lucas. He always tried to apologize to Eliott, but Eliott would just say “you have nothing to apologize for, Lu. I’m your friend. It’s what friends do.”

Lucas still felt bad though, especially when Eliott hadn’t told him about being diagnosed with bipolar disorder at only thirteen years old. Lucas had to find out from eavesdropping on a conversation between his mom and Eliott’s mom.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Lucas was sat on Eliott’s bed, bawling his eyes out.

Eliott wasn’t crying though. He was rubbing circles on the back of Lucas’s hand, and something about how calm he was was pissing Lucas off. “I didn’t want it to weigh on your conscience, Lu. You’ve never had an easy life and I liked that I had been an easy friend for you these past few years. But now, with this stupid disorder, I can’t be ‘easy’ anymore.” Eliott’s voice started to break.

Lucas swallowed, a tear dropping down from his eye to make a stain on Eliott’s comforter, “I didn’t want easy with you, Eli. I want you. I’d rather have you with your disorder than not have you at all.”

That night he slept over at Eliott’s again. They tangled themselves together beneath Eliott’s sheets, practically breathing the same air. Eliott was rubbing soft circles across Lucas’s cheeks with the back of his hand, sometimes pausing to wipe away dried tears from under his eyes.

They talked about the universe, Eliott saying it terrified him how big it is.

“Yeah,” Lucas mumbled, voice no louder than a whisper, “but, if you mess up then your mistake means nothing when in relation to the whole universe.”

“But that also means that anything you do good seems just as inconsequential as any mistake you made.”

Lucas didn’t know how to respond at first, but he did know that he didn’t like the way Eliott’s hand pulled back from his face. Lucas instantly missed the warmth. “Well, even with how big the universe is, and how many different possibilities there are for how the universe could have played out, you were still able to exist. And that’s pretty fucking amazing.”

Eliott smiled, and suddenly Lucas’s whole universe focused in on the boy right in front of him, whose legs are tangled with his, whose hand he’s holding, whose smile lit up the dark room. “I love you, Lucas. I don’t think I would want to be in a universe without you in it.”

“I think that every Eliott in every universe has his Lucas.”

Eliott paused, “maybe there is an Eliott in a universe that doesn’t have bipolar disorder so he won’t be able to hurt his Lucas because of his fucked up brain.”

Lucas shook his head and ran a hand through Eliott’s hair, “well, I guess that Lucas is missing out because he will never know how fucking amazing you are, and what a perfect guy you are, and how you don’t let your disorder define you.” Eliott might be crying, Lucas can see his shoulders shaking but can’t make out his face, “you’ll always be every Lucas’s raccoon boy, don’t you worry.”

High school is when things began to change. Lucas had found a friend group made of guys his own age, and Eliott was dating Lucille. He also came out as pansexual, and Lucas found out from gossip between Basile and Arthur. Lucas won’t say that it didn’t hurt, because it did. It hurt to watch Eliott start to pull away. Sure, they still hung out. They still talked, but it wasn’t like before. Part of Lucas was fuming at the fact that he was working so hard for a friendship it seemed Eliott didn’t even care about anymore. But then Eliott would place small drawings in Lucas’s coat pockets or backpack or books so that he would stumble upon later. A little hedgehog drawn in sharpie, or sometimes a raccoon.

He hung each drawing up on his wall.

Second year he realized he was falling in love with Eliott. In movies, one-sided love is romanticized, played up to be something great because the main character always got the guy at the end of the day. But Lucas felt like his heart was slowly being torn apart.

With every glance to each other from across the cafeteria, with every touch of their shoulders as they passed in the hallway, with every “hey” Eliott would give Lucas as a morning greeting as they made their way to school on opposite sides of the street, Lucas felt like he was breaking apart.

Everything happened so fast. His dad left. His mom was diagnosed. He had to move into an apartment with two other people. His best friend, and his first love, was getting further and further away. Lucas felt like his life was slipping through his fingers.

He ended up filling his time by going to parties. Talking to people he knew he would never remember, and noticing people he’d never seen before. He played the role of a straight-guy in front of his friends, but then would sneak off with a random guy behind their backs later that night.

Lucas thought that every one night stand would take his mind off of Eliott. That maybe it would erase him from his memories. In the moment it was good, when Lucas was panting and mind chanting release, release. That part was fine. It was afterwards that left him feeling hollow, and that was when his thoughts came rushing back to him. His brain screamed at him, screamed a name until he knew he would never be able to forget. Eventually someone got a picture of Lucas kissing a guy, and thank God there wasn’t anything more explicit. It forced Lucas out of the closet. His friends were pissed about having to find out via a picture, but they came around.

Lucas holed himself away for a few days, not letting even his roommates inside. He wanted to wallow in self-pity for as long as possible, living off of goldfish crackers and cheez-its.

It was the middle of the week when there was a knock at Lucas’s door, “kitten?” the door asked.

“Go away, Mika. I don’t want to see anyone.”

“There’s someone here who you will want to see,” and before Lucas could object the door was being opened.

In walked Eliott in all his tall, handsome glory. He looked uneasy as the door shut behind him. He swayed from side-to-side not meeting Lucas’s eyes. Lucas wasn’t sure what to say, and he wonders when it became hard to talk to Eliott of all people.

“What a goldfish?” Lucas asked, offering the bag over.

Eliott smiled, “no, I’m okay. Thanks, Lu.”

Lucas nearly snapped right then, don’t call me Lu. You lost that privilege when you stopped talking to me. Thankfully he had the willpower to just shovel some crackers into his mouth instead.

“Can I sit down?”

Lucas shrugged and motioned towards the empty spot at the end of his bed. Eliott took a seat looking way too uptight.

“I saw the pictures,”

“Good for you, so has the whole city,” Lucas said bitterly.

“Why are you holed away in here?”

So I didn’t have to face you, “I just needed to collect my thoughts before facing the real world again.”

“I miss you, Lu.”

“Don’t call me Lu,” Lucas wasn’t fast enough to stop himself this time. Eliott didn’t say anything so Lucas continued, “you’ve ignored me the past two years, and now that I’ve been outed and now that I’m all sad and pathetic again you think you have the right to waltz in here and pretend nothing happened? Well, newsflash, Eliott, you can’t. My life has been shit and you haven’t been here. Without you I guess I finally was able to grow a pair, suck up my emotions, and move on with life.”

“Lucas, I’m sor-”

“I’m not looking for an apology, Eliott,” Lucas felt like his throat was dry. Where is water when you need it? “I’m looking for an explanation.”

Eliott paused and switched his gaze to focus on the floor beneath his feet, “I thought that if I distanced myself from you I would stop fa…” Eliott trailed off, mumbling incoherently.

“What?”

Eliott’s face was a bright red when he turned back to Lucas, “I thought I could stop myself from falling in love with you. I didn’t want to hurt you; I didn’t want to hurt us. I loved our friendship too much to jeopordize it with my stupid emotions, and I thought I would hurt you less if I just pulled away. I didn’t mean, I mean I’m sorry-I’m stupid,”

“Eliott,” Lucas said tentatively as he pulled his blankets away and made his way over to sit beside him. “Kiss me.”

Eliott’s head could not have turned faster and Lucas thought for a brief second that he might’ve pulled his neck, “What?” he asked with alarm written across his face. Maybe it was disbelief, Lucas wasn’t sure.

“I told you to kiss me.”

“Why...why would I kiss you?”

Lucas groaned and face-palmed, “God, why am I in love with such an idiot?”

“Wait, you-you’re..?”

“Yes, you fucking goon, now kiss me before I explode.”

Eliott didn’t have to be told a fourth time, though the hand that cupped Lucas’s face seemed hesitant. It was slow at first, just lips grazing lips. It was all so new and it lit up Lucas from the inside out.

Now, Lucas had his suspicions about how good Eliott is at kissing, but he never would have expected it to be like this. Forget about all the other guys Lucas has kissed; Eliott is stealing his breath away. Lucas leans into the kiss, deepening it, seeking for more, and Eliott doesn’t complain. Eliott started laughing into the kiss, his smile breaking up their rhythm.

Lucas pulled away, cheeks flushed and lips puffy, “what?”

Eliott shook his head, combing back part of Lucas’s hair, “nothing, I just can’t believe I’m kissing you.”

“I can’t believe I’m kissing you either, after everything we’ve been through.”

“Every Eliott has his Lucas,” he said with a wink.

“I love you so fucking much,” Lucas said, parting his lips and begging for another kiss.

“You have no idea how much I love you, Lu, and I hope you’ll let me be with you through it all. Your highs and lows, everything.”

Lucas smiled, “well, you should know that I am very needy…”

“Mhm,”

“I’ll be calling you in the middle of the night…” “Nothing new,”

“I’ll be begging you for kisses…”

“I’ll supply those without any hesitation.”

“Oh really?”

“Really.”

“Well then kiss me, raccoon boy.”

Eliott smirked and pecked a small kiss onto Lucas’s lips before quickly pulling away. Lucas chased after him searching for more, “what do you say to going on a date with me?”

“Are-are you asking me to go on a date with the Eliott Demaury?” Lucas asked in mock shock.

Eliott laughed, “I am.”

Their date just ended up being what they used to do every night together. Watch a disney movie and eat some crappy popcorn. Of course, this time it involved much more making out than before. Lucas believed this was exactly what he needed. A chill night in with Eliott, not having to worry about anything or anyone else.

Before he even realised it he was falling asleep on the couch; head rested atop Eliott’s shoulder.

“Baby, you falling asleep?” A voice, Lucas guessed was Eliott’s, asked him.

He groaned in response. The next second he heard the TV being turned off and he was being lifted off the couch. Lucas snuggled closer to Eliott, taking in his warmth and just the fact that this was even possible now.

After his blankets were wrapped around him, he heard footsteps retreating towards his bedroom door, “don’t go,” Lucas mumbled. His tired brain wasn’t sure if Eliott heard him or not until he felt the mattress dip beside him.

“I’m right here, baby. You’re okay.”

Lucas smiled as he drifted off to sleep knowing that, yeah, he is okay.

[yuckitup-jwd]

Historical people answer the question - Why did the chicken cross the road?

Douglas Adams: Forty-Two

Earnest Angsley: To be HAYELED! in the name o'Jayeeezus!

Marcus Antonius: The evil that chickens do lives after them, the good is oft interred with their bones.

Any Philosophy 101 Professor: Why not?

Any Calculus Professor: The road, if expressed in the form (y2-y1)/(x2-x1) is approximate for cases where lim(y2-y1)/(x2-x1) as (x2-x1) -> 0, is represented by the derivative, or rate of change, of the road with respect to the chicken, such that the value of the chicken may be assumed equal to the value of (y2-y1)/(x2-x1), for small values of roads.

Jane Austen: Because it is a truth universally acknowledged that a single chicken, being posessed of a good fortune and presented with a good road, must be desirous of crossing.

Aristotle: To actualize its potential.

Neil Armstrong: One small step for chickenkind, one giant leap for poultry.

Arthur, King of the Britons: What do you mean? African or European chickens?

Paul Atreidies: What name have you for the chicken shaped stain upon your road? That shall be the name that you shall call me!

Lord Baden-Powell: Because as a Chicken Scout, it needed the Road-Crossing Merit Badge.

Bilbo Baggins: Oh what I wouldn't give to back in my nice, warm Hobbit-hole! I hope I never have to lay eyes on such a thing as that chicken again!

Baldrick: It had a cunning plan.

The Band: To take a load off....

The Bandit, in The Treasure of The Sierra Madre: "Chickens? Chickens? We don't need no stinkin' chickens!"

Clive Barker: He was drawn to the road, and he didn't so much cross the road as the road crossed him. And once across, the chicken entered into a frightening void, filled only with the screams of a thousand agonized souls. The hands of doom reached out of the blackness, strangling the chicken, smothering him, suffocating him. He could not escape, as no one who crosses the road can escape. He was now a prisoner of the Cenobytes, doomed to an eternity of pain.

Roseanne Barr: Urrrrrp. What chicken?

The Beatles: To be free as a bird!

Lavrenti Beria (ex-head of the KGB): This is a State Secret -- we have informants everywhere.

Bill The Cat Ack. Thpppbt

Blackadder: Queenie: Because I told it to. Percy: To acquire a hunk of purest green Lord Flasheart: To DOOOOOOOOO IT!

Lucien Bouchard: So that it could be SEPARATE!

Ben Bova: To be reunited with beautiful grey-eyed Athena, the woman he has loved for all of time

Brisco (Law and Order): For A Bagel

Bruce, Bruce, Bruce, Bruce, Bruce and Bruce: To grab a Fosters and get away from the poofters!

Buddha: If you ask this question, you deny your own chicken-nature.

Archie Bunker: I don't care what them there chickens do, as long as they stay on THEIR side of the street!

Bugs Bunny: What's up, cluck?

Robert Burns: Fair Fa Your Honest Sonsie Face Great Chieftain O' The Chicken Race The blackened road 'ahind ye said Ye best run quick ere ye be deid!

George Bush: If it did it was out of the loop

George Bush: (again) It could see the thousand points of headlights....

Rhett Butler: Frankly my dear, it didn't give a damn!

C3PO (1): Sir, may I remind you that I am fluent in 6,000,000 forms of communication and this chicken has not... shutting up, sir.

C3PO (2): Sir, according to my calculations, the odds of a chicken successfully navigating a road are 3,750 to 1 against.

Caesar: It came, it saw, it crossed.

Joseph Campbell: In primitive cultures, we can find many such examples of the chicken motif that cannot be dismissed as mere coincidence. For instance, I am reminded of an old Navajo legend in which a buffalo crosses a stream to "come" to the other side -- an obvious negative language devised to prepare tribesmen for a transcendental experience. Similarly, the Hindus believe in savanaya, or a sacred cow that leaps over a chasm on Thursdays. Through metaphorical interpretation, we are led to realize that all examples suggest an attainable higher state of consciousness like that of Nietzsche's ubermench, or superman, as outlined in his novel "Thus Spoke Zarathustra."

Albert Camus: Seeing that an indifferent world lied on all sides of the road, the chicken knew it would be absurd not too cross, and for that moment, the chicken knew what it was to really be alive. It was if the bird had been asleep its entirely up until this choice was put before him. So, with a newfound determination and a smile, the chicken valiently crossed the road only to be put out of its mercy by an eighteen wheeler.

Candide: To cultivate its garden.

Johnny Carson: Let me tell you, it was so cold at that farm... Ed McMahon: How cold was it? Johnny Carson: It was so cold, that the chickens were mugging the sheep to get wool for sweaters!

Raymond Chandler: Across these mean streets a chicken must go who is not himself mean, who is neither tarnished nor afraid. He is the hero; he is everything. He must be a complete chicken and a common chicken and yet an unusual chicken. He must be, to use a rather weathered phrase, a chicken of honor - by instinct, by inevitability, withough thought of it, and certainly without saying it. He must be the best chicken in his world and a good enough chicken for any world.

Charlie X: Because it didn't want to STAY....STAY....STAY....STAY....STAY...

Cheech (or Chong): Just to be there, man.

The Chicken: I am crossing the road to block traffic as a protest against ..." (thump).

Commander Chikotay: I'm not sure but I can find out. That chicken is my animal spirit guide.

Noam Chomsky: To manufacture consent

Tom Clancy: The Mark 84 gargleblaster that the chicken carried, at the heart of which was an inferior ex-Soviet excimer laser system, had insufficient range to allow the chicken to carry out its mission from this side of the road.

John Cleese From Fawlty Towers: Manuel from Barcelona: "Que?" Basil: "You know, a chicken crossing the road...." Manuel: "Que?" Basil: [looking it up in a dictionary], "Un Pollo..." Manuel: interrupting, "No, No we out of chicken.." * WHAP!!*

John Cleese: Because it was very silly.

John Cleese: (again) This isn't a chicken license, you know! It's a dog license with the word "Dog" crossed out and "Chicken" written in in crayon.

John Cleese: (#3) This Chicken is no more. It has ceased to function. Bereft of life, it rests in peace. It's a stiff. If it wasn't nailed to the road it'd be pushing up daisies. It's snuffed it. It's metabolic processes are now history. It's bleeding demised. It's rung down the curtain, shuffled off the mortal coil and joined the bleeding Choir Invisible. This is an Ex-Chicken.

Bill Clinton: What?

Bill Clinton (again): The chicken was persuaded to cross the road by the Democratic congress. It is now returning to the middle of the road

Joseph Conrad: Mistah Chicken, he dead.

John Constantine: Because it'd made a bollocks of things over on this side of the road and figured it'd better get out right quick.

Alastair Cooke: Good Evening, and welcome to Masterpiece Theatre. Tonight, we present the epic British drama "How The Chicken Went," based on the 1843 novel by Herbert T. Poultry, and adapted for the screen by Joanna Drumstick. Starring Susan Hampshire as the Chicken, and Anthony Hopkins as the evil and unrepentant diner, Borstrom, this elegant period piece explores the mores and morality of a society in which ordinary chickens had to face their destiny of crossing the road to meet their fate at the hands of the monied upper classes, regardless of their own ambitions or desires...

Shiela Copps (Deputy Prime Minister of Canada): BECAUSE I SCREAMED AT IT REAL LOUD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Sheila Copps: Okay, I know that the chicken promised it would cross the road if the Liberals failed to eliminate the GST, but it was a stupid promise to make and the chicken deeply regrets ever making it. However, the chicken will not be crossing the road because to do so would cost tax payers $500,000.

Sheila Copps (a few days later): Alright! Alright! The chicken will cross the road like it promised. But it'll be right back again. Now leave me alone.

Howard Cosell: It may very well have been one of the most astonishing events to grace the annals of history. An historic, unprecendented avian biped with the temerity to attempt such an herculean achievement formerly relegated to homo sapien pedestrians is truly a remarkable occurrence.

Jacques Ives Cousteau: Zee cheecken, unaware of zee dangare beehind heem, crosses zee street. Weezout warning, zee Porsche strikes, and zee balance of zee nature ees maintained.

Stephen R. Covey: When the chicken and the road can work together for the win-win, the result is synergy!

Jean Cretien, Prime Minister of Canada: "It wasn't a chicken, you know, it was an Inuit carving of a loon. But the RCMP should have been there anyway..."

Aleister Crowley: Because it was its True Will to do so.

Salvador Dali: The Fish.

Stephanie Daniels: It was the turtle's day off.

Darwin: It was the logical next step after coming down from the trees.

Commander Data: I do not know. Although I have compared all of my 437 billion data points relating to chickens and roads, there is no possitive correlation between the two.

W. Edwards Demming: But is one chicken crossing one road of statistical importance? Only once we have established an historical baseline of chickens with respect to roads, with calculated upper and lower control limits, can we make that determination.

Arthur Dent: Are you sure the chicken is from Beetelgeuse, and not from Gilford after all?

Jacques Derrida: Any number of contending discourses may be discovered within the act of the chicken crossing the road, and each interpretation is equally valid as the authorial intent can never be discerned, because structuralism is DEAD, DAMMIT, DEAD!

Rene Descartes: It had sufficient reason to believe it was dreaming anyway.

Descartes (again): The chicken was merely a machine and was crossing due to the deterministic nature of the universe.

Emily Dickinson: Because it could not stop for death.

Bob Dole: Do you know that before that chicken had gotten across the road, its cellular phone was ringing and there was a lawyer on the other end asking if it would like to sue the city for not putting up a traffic light.

Bob Dylan: How many roads must a chicken travel down, before they call him a man?

E.T.: Chicken, phone home

Ecclesiastes (1): For every fowl, there is a season. A time for garlic, a time for sage...

Ecclesiastes (2): This bird is meaningless.

Wyatt Earp: Well, chicken, are you gonna do something, or just stand there and bleed?

Eeyore: If it did. Which I doubt. Not that it matters.

Albert Einstein: Whether the chicken crossed the road or the road crossed the chicken depends on your frame of reference.

T.S. Eliot: It's not that they cross, but that they cross like chickens.

Harlan Ellison: Because he had no beak and must scream.

Emergency Medical Holographic Doctor on U.S.S. Voyager: Maybe it was trying to state the nature of a medical emergency.

Ralph Waldo Emerson: It didn't cross the road; it transcended it.

Epicurus: For fun.

Basil Fawlty: Oh, don't mind that chicken. It's from Barcelona.

Sybil Fawlty: BASIL! Why is there a CHICKEN in my hotel?

Dr. Johnny Fever: To escape from the Phone Cops!

Fiver (from Watership Down): Don't you see it? The sky has turned to blood, the field has turned to fire... THE CHICKENS! DON'T YOU SEE THE CHICKENS?

Gerald R. Ford: It probably fell from an airplane and couldn't stop its forward momentum.

Sigmund Freud: The chicken obviously was female and obviously interpreted the pole on which the crosswalk sign was mounted as a phallic symbol of which she was envious, selbstverstaendlich.

Robert Frost: To cross the road less traveled by.

Barney Fyfe: Now Andy, let me tell you a thing or two about chickens. Chickens cross roads in those other counties, but not here in Mayberry. No chicken crosses no roads in Mayberry without Deputy Fyfe knowing about it!

Gandalf: O chicken, do not meddle in the affairs of roads, for you are tasty and good with barbecue sauce.

Bill Gates: For the money

Frank Bunker Gilbereth: To minimize its therbligs

Jim Gillis: The chicken crossed the road to show the gophers it could be done.

Newt Gingrich: To get to the RIGHT side of the road.

Newt Gingrich (again): The chicken had to cross the road, because, bogged down by the incredible debt burden, it was no longer able to fly.

Newt Gingrich (III): It was safety pinned to one of those damn punk rockers!

Ira Glasser (ACLU): The chicken maintains an absolute privacy interest in information as to whether or why he or she may have perambulated the thoroughfare.

Johann Wolfgang v. Goethe: The eternal hen-principle made it do it.

Sir Charles Grandiose: As surely as the golden hairs turn to silver, as surely as the sands drift silently through the slender neck of the hourglass, the last sunny days of summer flee soundlessly under autumn's chilly embrace. And with those last days of that warmest and most joyful of seasons, left the road's edge the sprightliest young chicken ever a Baronet did see

Hercules Gryptyppe-Thynne, (All-around Public-School Cad): That's not a chicken! It's a clever disguise, inside of which is Count Jim "Thighs" Moriarity.....

Gary Gygax: Because I rolled a 64 on the "Chicken Random Behaviors" chart on page 497 of the Dungeon Master's Guide.

Hamlet: Because 'tis better to suffer in the mind the slings and arrows of outrageous road maintenance than to take arms against a sea of oncoming vehicles.

Thomas Hardy: The road was black, the sky was white (and so were the feathers) as the bright red mark on the top of the chicken's head gleamed in the twilight. It was a pure chicken and it was doomed.

Mike Harris, (Premier of Ontario): Like evrything else in this province, it was facing the axe.

Paul Harvey: And now... page two... a chicken... attempts to cross... the street... yes... the street... and is... run down by a... Buick! The Buick Roadmaster with it's powerful perfomance and elegant style! Yes... that poor chicken... hit by the Buick... it's true... it's... true... and speaking of true... your local True Value Hardware Store...

Hegel: Only through the synthesis of the dialectical chicken and road could the spirit transcend the experience of crossing.

Robert Heinlein: Because with the freedom the chicken was given, it was the chicken's responsibility to do so.

Robert Heinlein (again): The more widely dispersed chickens are throughout the Universe, the better the long-term prospects for the survival of the chicken species.

Werner Heisenberg: We are not sure which side of the road the chicken was on, but it was moving very fast.

Ernest Hemingway: To die. In the rain.

Hippocrates: Because of an excess of light pink gooey stuff in its pancreas.

Doug Hofstadter: To seek explication of the correspondence between appearance and essence through the mapping of the external road-object onto the internal road-concept.

Sherlock Holmes: It crossed the road because it was going to catch a train at Victoria Station at 3:15, to Edinburgh. And how did I know that? Observe, Watson, the patina of dust on the chicken's feathers, which indicates that it had been spending time in a library, reading about Scotland. And observe also that it was humming "Bonnie Lassie" as it waited to cross. Finally, and most important, observe the train ticket marked Edinburgh, stuffed under one wing, and the fact that Victoria station was where the chicken crossed the street, and finally that the only train to Edinburgh this afternoon is the 3:15....

David Hume: Out of custom and habit.

Saddam Hussein: This was an unprovoked act of rebellion and we were quite justified in dropping 50 tons of nerve gas on it.

Lee Iacocca: It found a better car, which was on the other side of the road.

Dr. Jack Van Impe: Well you see, here's the really exciting part, if we were to look at Revelation 17:3 we will see that the Whore of Babylon rides on a scarlet beast. A scarlet beast! What this means is a Rhode Island Red. And the truly glorious thing is that this beast, this Rhode Island Red, this CHICKEN has crossed the road EXACTLY as was prophesized in the Bible and this is all a sign, Revelation 17:3, that we're living in the End Time. Hallelujah! And if you would like more information on the significance of this chicken crossing the road as all part of God's great plan then send me $50 and you will recieve this set of video tapes along with a copy of my recent book "Chickens: fowl beast, or foul beast?".

John Paul Jones: It has not yet begun to cross!

Carl Jung: The confluence of events in the cultural gesalt necessitated that individual chickens cross roads at this historical juncture, and therefore synchronicitously brought such occurrences into being.

Franz Kafka: Dieter, now in the form of a chicken, was running from the government's torture machine. The machine, an instrument of death, slowly obliterated the souls of its victims. Dieter was alone. He was running for his life, his insignificant life.

Immanuel Kant: The pure transcendental concept of the road, having been deduced a priori and without dependence on intuitions, is given in the mode of the chicken as an end in itself, while crossing the road as a hypothetical imperative, namely, as acting towards some end allowed by Reason.

Casey Kasem: And now here's a hot new number from a hot young band whose drummer was so tragically killed in a freeway accident, it's The Hen House Flock singing "When You Gonna Crow?" hitting the charts at number 23!

JFK: The chicken chose to cross the road in this decade not because it was easy, but because it was hard.

Obi Wan Kenobi: To follow old obi wan on some damn fool idealistic crusade.

Jack Kerouac: The chicken hipster, high on tea and the soul groves of Charlie (the bird) Parker, strolled aimlessly on the road looking for his dharma.

Soren Kierkegaard: The chicken is dead. The road is nothing.

Colonel Kilgore: "I love the smell of chickens in the morning"

Martin Luther King: It had a dream.

James Tiberius Kirk: To boldly go where no chicken has gone before.

Ralph Klein: Because we gave it a one-way bus ticket to B.C.

Mark Knophler: How come Chickens got Industrial Disease?

Mark Lane: There is new, irrefutable evidence that the chicken did not act alone.

Gary Larson: Don't ask me. I am retired. Stan Laurel: I'm sorry, Ollie. It escaped when I opened the run.

Timothy Leary: Because that's the only kind of trip the Establishment would let it take.

John Le Carre: Because it knew, at the core of its being where none could ever reach, that its only course of action now that its cover was blown wide open was to try and slip away into the grey, foggy, bleak evening before Smiley came, accompanied by his silent shadow Peter Guillam, asking questions for which there could never be answers.

Dr. Hannibal Lector: So I could eat its liver, with some fava beans and a nice chianti .......thththththththth.

Leda: Are you sure it wasn't Zeus dressed up as a chicken? He's into that kind of thing, you know.

Foghorn Leghorn: To get to that damn Dawg, Boah!

Gottfried Von Leibniz: In this best possible world, the road was made for it to cross.

Vladimir Lenin: It is not the chicken's road. It is the PEOPLE'S road!

David Letterman: And the No. 1 reason - fricasee!

Rush Limbaugh: Beacuse of those damn bleeding heart liberals, trying to save one stupid bird while thousands of jobs are being lost. Dave Lister: Because of the smegging space corps directives.

Any Late Evening News Anchor: The chicken crosses the road. Film at 11:00.

Abraham Lincoln: Fourscore and seven eggs ago, our forefeathers...

Logan (Law and Order): To buy a plaid tie

Jack London: To answer the call of the wild.

H.P. Lovecraft: To futilely attempt escape from the dark powers which even then pursued it, hungering after the stuff of its soul!

George Lucas: Because the Force was with it.

Machiavelli: So that its subjects will view it with admiration, as a chicken which has the daring and courage to boldly cross the road, but also with fear, for whom among them has the strength to contend with such a paragon of avian virtue? In such a manner is the princely chicken's dominion maintained.

Marvin (the paranoid android): "Here I am, brain the size of a planet, and you ask me why the chicken crossed the road? I could tell you, but I really don't think it's worth while."

Marvin the Paranoid Android: Here I am, brain the size of a planet, and what do they ask me? Why did the chicken cross the road? As if their pathetic cerebelums could even comprehend my answer. Chickens, don't talk to me about chickens... they're SO depressing.

Karl Marx: It was a historical inevitability.

Karl Marx (again): To escape the bourgeois middle-class struggle.

Groucho Marx: Chicken? What's all this talk about chicken? Why, I had an uncle who thought he was a chicken. My aunt almost divorced him, but we needed the eggs.

Groucho Marx (again): This morning I shot a chicken in my pyjamas -- and lemme tell ya, that chicken ran out of my pyjamas in a second!

Jackie Mason: Whaddaya want, it should just stand there?

Perry Mason: Cross the road you say? But how can you be sure? No one else would have known the chicken crossed the road except for the real killer!

Dr. McCoy: How should I know? Damnit Jim, I'm a Doctor not an ornithologist!

Marshall McLuhan: The Road is the Medium. The chicken is the Message!

Gregor Mendel: To get various strains of roads.

A.A. Milne: I imagine that if I thought very hard I shouold come up with a reason. (also applicable to Winnie the Pooh)

John Milton: To justify the ways of God to men.

Indigo Montoya: It too pursues a man with six fingers on his left hand.

Michael Moriarity: To annoy Janet Reno.

Jim Morrison: To break on thruough to the other side, I am the chicken king

Ralph Nader: A chicken on a road is unsafe at any speed

Sir Isaac Newton: Chickens at rest tend to stay at rest. Chickens in motion tend to cross the road.

Jack Nicholson: 'Cause it (censored) wanted to. That's the (censored) reason.

Nietzsche: Because if you gaze too long across the Road, the Road gazes also across you.

Col. Oliver North: I do not recall any such events. I had no knowledge of these occurrences.

Peter Norton: It was a virus and it saw me coming...

Richard Nixon: That part of our conversation was accidentally erased.

George Orwell: Because Big Brother was watching to make sure that it did cross the road, although in its heart, the chicken never did.

Thomas Paine: Out of common sense.

Michael Palin: Nobody expects the banished inky chicken!

Emporer Palpatine: Foolish chicken! Only now, at the end, do you see the head-lights!

Dorothy Parker: Travel, trouble, music, art / A kiss, a frock, a rhyme / The chicken never said they fed its heart / But still they pass its time.

Patsy: Oh, F*&% the chicken. Run it over and lets have a drink.

Gen. George S. Patton: To get those yellow bellied chickens outta here.

General George S. Patton (again): The way to win a war is not to cross a road for you country. The way to win a war is to make some OTHER poor chicken cross a road for HIS COUNTRY!

Wolfgang Pauli: There already was a chicken on the other side of the road.

Frank Perdue: How the heck do I know? Do I look like a chicken to you -- don't answer that.

Marlin Perkins, on Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom: Watch, as the chicken mauls Jim yet again...

H. Ross Perot: I'm crossing. I'm not crossing....

H. Ross Perot2: Crossing the road is that chickens primary concern! PRIMARY concern!

H. Ross Perot3: Chickens and roads, I'll tell ya what it means! It means 4 trillion dollars of dafficit, it means the end of our infrastructure, it means... look at this chart!

H. Ross Perot4: Let me tell ya, it's all about NAFTA. This chicken represents your job, and this road represents the Mexican border...

Jean-Luc Picard: To see what's out there.

Jean-Luc Picard (again): Because it's shields were down and it had no other options left...

Piglet: Because ch-ch-chickens are such very s-s-s-small animals.

Plato: For the greater good.

Edgar Allan Poe: Quoth the chicken,"Nevermore!"

Emily Post: When a chicken is confronted with a road, it is only proper for the chicken to stand erect, turn to face the road, look both ways and cross... remembering to send a sincere thank you letter within one month of the event.

Elvis Presley: You aint nothin' but a chicken, crossin' all the roads!

Psalms: Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no road!

Pyrrho the Skeptic: What Road?

Monty Python: For Something Completely Different

Dan Quayle: "chicken" C-H-I-K-E-N "chicken"

The Red Queen: Who cares? Off with it's head!

R2D2: beep bleep be deep birp whirrrrrrrrr!

The White Rabbit: It was late!

Ayn Rand: The chicken crossed the road in order to get away from the flock that is stifling his creativity.

Ayn Rand (again): If not for the intransigently independent vision of that first chicken, none of the other chickens would have been able to cross the road. And they condemned him for his acheivement!

Ronald Reagan: I don't recall. What was the question?

Georg Friedrich Riemann: The answer appears in Dirichlet's lectures.

Pat Riley: The chicken crossed the lane in less than 3 seconds, so a "fowl" should not have been called.

Rimmer: Aliens!!!

General Jack D. Ripper: To maintain the purity of its precious bodily fluids.

Geraldo Rivera: Stay tuned as a panel of chickens reveals the shocking truth.

Tom Robbins: Well you see, that chicken was a special chicken who was a descendent of a parrot family that once built pyramids for tourist pharohs. This chicken liked the other side of the road whose shamanic whispers beckoned Anastasia, the parrot, like the popped cherry of a ritually consumated white wedding. That's the meaning of it all, baby!

Oral Roberts: He couldn't raise the $10,000,000.00 so God called him home.

Oral Roberts (again): And I said to the chicken: "Put your claw on the screen! Put your claw on the screen, upon the hand of Brother Oral, and you shall be healed. Make a love offering of $50 or more, and then touch the screen. And that chicken did put his claw on the screen. And the power of God, in his infinite wisdom and mercy, flowed through me and out through that television set, and that chicken was healed *PRAISE GOD!*. And then that chicken, stricken for so many months, rose up and walked across the road. But, since he had forgotten his love offering, God never warned him about the 30 ton semi barreling down on the crosswalk...."

Carl Sagan: To see the billions and billions of stars.

Col. Saunders: It Ran, Suh! I offered it a coating of 11 herbs and spices and it ran, Suh! So I shot it, Suh, shot it while it was trying to escape, suh!

Sappho: For the touch of your skin, the sweetness of your lips..

Jean-Paul Sartre: In order to act in good faith and be true to itself, the chicken found it necessary to cross the road.

Arnold Schwarzenegger: It was going back...

Mr. Scott: 'Cos ma wee transporter beam was na functioning properly. Ah canna work miracles, Captain, wi' no dilithium crystals left to speak of!

Agent Scully: There simply must be a rational, scientific explanation. Chickens don't just "cross roads"

Neddy Seagoon: WhatwhatwhatwhatwhatwhatwhatwhatwhatwhatwhatwhatWHAT?

William Shakespeare:

1: This is the road of chicken's discontent, Made ignoble abbatoir by this half-ton truck... (Richard II)

2: Bring me no more reports, let them fly all; 'Til a chicken remove to other side of road I cannot taint with fear. What is this chicken? Was he not born of hen? The spirits that know All fowl consequences have pronounced me thus: "Fear not, MacNugget; no chicken that's born of hen Shall e'er lay beak upon thee." (Macbeth)

3: If it were done, when 'tis done, then 'twere well It were done quickly: if the crossing Could scoot across the dotted line, and catch, Beyond passing car, sidewalk; that but these feathers Might be the be-all and end-all here, But here, at this corner of street and avenue, We'd cross at the light to come. (Macbeth)

4: To cross, or not to cross? That is the question, Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer The wheels and axles of the city's mass transit Or to take flight against a sea of motorists And by opposing, end me? To cross, to peep No more! And by that peep to say we end The chickhood and the thousand fender-shocks That chicken is heir to. 'Tis a perambulation Devoutly to be wish'd. (Hamlet)

Homer Simpson: ohhhhhhhh Chicken.....

Bart Simpson: It's outta here, man!

Mrs. Slocum: Now look what you've done, there's chicken all over my pussy!

Kenneth Starr: In view of President Clinton's dealings with the Tyson Poultry Company, the matter of the chicken crossing the road is under investigation for its possible connection with the Whitewater affair.

George Steinbrenner: Because I offered him a $4 million contract.

George Steinbrenner2: Because I fired him!

George Steinbrenner3: Because he's now my new manager.

George Steinbrenner4: Because I fired him again!

Dr. Suess: See the end of this document for the full Dr. Suess version.

Sisyphus: Was it pushing a rock, too?

B.F. Skinner: Because the external influences which had pervaded its sensorium from birth had caused it to develop in such a fashion that it would tend to cross roads, even while believing these actions to be of its own free will.

Mr. Spock: It was not logical for the chicken to do so, but I have frequently observed that the behaviour of chickens is not logical

E.E. (Doc) Smith: Your humble narrator can barely do justice to this climactic event that rent asunder the fundamental ether of space itself, as the chicken, embodying all that is good and hard and straight and keen in the Avain world, fearlessly approached, bridged, and conquered the road for Civilization.

Socrates: To pick up some hemlock at the corner druggist.

The Sphinx: You tell me.

Joseph Stalin: It was clearly a conspiracy. Take all the chickens out and shoot them. At Once!

John Steinbeck: The road baked in the relentless summer sun as the chicken, looking about, began to cross. It stopped occaisionally to peck at a grass seed that had become lodged in a crevice in the cracked macadam. The chicken reached the other side, then began making his way to the Salinas, which lay muddy and turgid in the July afternoon, all the while thinking of the cool shade by the river and how good the can of beans in his bedroll would taste tonight.

Ben Stone (Law and Order): Because the defendant made it, sir.

Oliver Stone: He went back, and to the left. Back, and to the left. Back, and to the left. Back, and to the left. Back, and to the left. Back, and to the..

Dr. Strangelove: Because it could not afford to be caught on the wrong side of the road-side gap.

John Sununu: The Air Force was only too happy to provide the transportation, so quite understandably the chicken availed himself of the opportunity.

Grand Moff Tarkin: Fear will keep the chickens in line, fear of this thoroughfare!

Tim "The Toolman" Taylor: This here bird'll cross that road in no time flat, now that I've made a few "special modifications! We've added the Binford 7100 Multi-Purpose power unit, which I've souped up by adding a United Aircraft PT-6 jet engine - Urrgh urrgh urrgh! Heidi, bring out the chicken, please....

Alfred, Lord Tennyson: So that it could sail beyond the sunset.

Old Testament: And rooster and hen were married. And rooster did begat chicken. And chicken did cross the road.

New Testament: He among you who has not crossed roads, let him cast the first egg!

Margaret Thatcher: There was simply no alternative!

Theodoric of York, the Medievil Barber: Because of an imbalance of bodily humors caused by an elf or small toad living in the chicken's stomach. What this fowl needs is a good bleeding. Dylan Thomas: To not go (sic) gentle into that good night.

Hunter S. Thompson: Why the &*%$#@ not?

Henry David Thoreau: To live deliberately ... and suck all the marrow out of life.

Tiggr: Because that's what chickens do best!

Tiggr: (again) That's the wonderful thing about Chickens, Chasing Chickens is FUN FUN FUN, And the Wonderful thing about Chickens Is that when crossing streets they RUN!

Tim, the Enchanter: It's got wings that... and a beak that... good god man, look at the bones!

Brian Tobin (new premier of Newfoundland): It followed the cod....

J.R.R. Tolkein: The chicken, sunlight coruscating off its radiant yellow- white coat of feathers, approached the dark, sullen asphalt road and scrutinized it intently with its obsidian-black eyes. Every detail of the thoroughfare leapt into blinding focus: the rough texture of the surface, over which count- less tires had worked their relentless tread through the ages; the innumerable fragments of stone embedded within the lugubrious mass, perhaps quarried from the great pits where the Sons of Man labored not far from here; the dull black asphalt itself, exuding those waves of heat which distort the sight and bring weakness to the body; the other attributes of the great highway too numerous to give name.

Thomas de Torquemada: Give me ten minutes with the chicken and I'll find out.

Anthony Trollope: Why, to avoid Mrs. Proudy and Mr. Slope, of course.

Mark Twain: The news of its crossing has been greatly exaggerated.

Darth Vader: Because it could not resist the power of the Dark Side.

George Washington: I cannot tell a lie. I was going to chop it with my little axe, so it crossed the road.

Mae West: 'Cause I invited it to come up and see me sometime.

Jerry White: Why does a chicken cross the road only half-way? So she can lay it on the line.

Walt Whitman: To cluck the song of itself.

Robert Anton Wilson: Because agents of the Ancient Illuminated Roosters of Cooperia were controlling it with their Orbital Mind-Control Lasers as part of their master plan to take over the world's egg production.

Major Charles Emerson Winchester, the Third: What do you two-bit quacks know about chickens? Did you learn about them in medical school, or did you just read the comic book?

Ludwig Wittgenstein: The possibility of "crossing" was encoded into the objects "chicken" and "road," and circumstances came into being which caused the actualization of this potential occurrence.

Wittgenstein #2: There are indeed things that cannot be put into words. They make themselves manifest. They are what is mystical.

Wittgenstein #3: What we cannot explain we must pass over in silence.

Tom Wolfe: Kesey, muscles rippling under his shirt, a mysterious smile on his face, surrounded by the Merry Pranksters, placed the chicken at the road's edge. The chicken paused at the edge of the road, looking this way and that, and then rending the air with a tremendous, "ba-BAAWWWWKKK!" bolted across the road, its disheveled wings flapping uselessly about, leaving a trail of feathers and dander that, whenever two-ton chromium steel, 300 horsepower tail-finned symbols of Detroit's and America's supremacy passed, would swirl in a miniature version of a cyclone like the ones Mr. and Mrs. America see on the TV news every evening when he's come home from work and she's setting the table for dinner, both only half paying attention to the cyclones that devastate midwestern cow towns on sweltering summer afternoons. And the heat, dander, tornados, asphalt, tail-fins and the sweat of Mr. and Mrs. America as they move mechanically in their daily routine like the figurines in one of those huge medieval clocks on some cathedral in some European town, moving in the same way, every hour on the hour, it was all summed up by the "ba-BAAWWWWKKK!" of a scampering chicken accompanied by the "skritch, skritch" of its feet.

William Wordsworth: To have something to recollect in tranquility.

Mr. Worf: I do not know, Klingon chickens do NOT cross the road.

Molly Yard: It was a hen!

Yoda: Crossing the road makes not a chicken great

Henny Youngman: Take this chicken ... please.

Zeno of Elea: To prove it could never reach the other side.

STAR TREK CHICKENS CROSS THE ROAD TOO

Chakotay: Whatever its reason, whatever its goals, we should respect its right to cross the road and seek its own spiritual awareness.

Neelix: Actually, Captain, I'm not really familiar with the chickens in this system. But--if you can catch it, I can cook it.

Riker: I don't know why, but I do know how: with pleasure, sir.

Garak: To get to the other side? Of course not! Do you realize how ridiculous that is? I'm sure it was a simple matter of its farmer expelling it from the coop for...embezzling eggs.

Odo: I don't have the slightest idea--and I don't particularly care...but then, I've never understood you ornithoids' need to engage in such pointless behavior.

Quark: Now really, why would I have bribed him to do it so I could make a tidy profit in the station pool? Besides, all I know is that chicken tastes just like tube grubs.

Q: Wouldn't you like to know? Too bad your puny human brain wouldn't be able to comprehend the answer.

O'Brien: Well, it's nothing a good pint or two won't fix.

Uhura: Shall I open hailing frequencies so you can ask it, sir?

V'Ger: To join with the Creator.

Sulu: To get back to San Franciso; it was born there.

Troi: It was running...running away from...no, escaping...oh, Captain, it was fleeing from such -pain-!

Kira: I bet those damn Cardassians were after it!

Picard: Dammit, that's not for us to answer! It's his fundamental right as a sentient being to determine the time and manner by which he travels towards his goals!

Dr. Bashir: I suppose it wanted to play some darts.

The Grand Nagus: Stupid chicken! You don't cross the road all at once! You sneak across it quietly, without anyone noticing! (Inconceivable!)

Sisko: I don't care -why- it was crossing the road! All I want to know is -why- it left the coop! So it wanted to "get to the other side"--there is only -so far- that my tolerance will go!

Barclay: Uh, chicken?!! Where?!!! C-c-c-ommander, did I ever mention my problem with small feathered things?

Gul Dukat: Well, that's a very interesting question...I'm sure we can work out some kind of arrangement to obtain that information that will be to everyone's satisfaction.

The Borg: Crossing the road is irrelevant. It will be assimilated.

Hugh the Borg: Maybe it wanted to be my friend.

Geordi: Well, wherever it's going, I'm sure it'll be there in an hour or two--but any later, and it'll be absolutely impossible for it to make it.

Jake: To check out the babe that just came off that transport!

Gene Roddenberry: To boldly go where no chicken had gone before.

Kes: It was remembering back to the times when its ancestors crossed roads all the time! They lost those abilities because they stopped using them!

Wesley: I'm not sure, but I can figure it out if I reroute these systems and reconfigure the warp field and run a complete internal whootchacallit on the computers and...

B'Elanna: I'm sure it felt suffocated by all the [BEEP] regulations of [BEEP] Starfleet and just couldn't stand it any longer!

Worf: I don't know. KLINGON chickens do NOT cross roads.

Spock: Fasincating, Captain, it seems driven by a beam of pure energy.

HoloDoc: How should I know? No one tells me anything around here! I didn't even know we added chickens to the crew! All I know is that it would have been nice, BEFORE the chicken went off to the cross the road, if it had remembered to turn me off!

Data: The chicken, in observing that it was on the opposite side of the 20th century Terran paved roadway, was aware that its immediate goal should have been to traverse the distance without interception by an kind of combustion-propelled personal transport vehicle, but I am unclear as to why any kind of domesticated fowl should desire to perambulate upon a conveyance normally reserved for the usage of...yes, sir.

Sarek: Sometimes my logic fails me where chickens are concerned.

Dax: To get to the other side. Kurzon might have disagreed with me, Tobin I'm sure wouldn't have had a clue,and then there's...

Tuvok: That's not a question we'd prefer to hear from a senior officer. It makes the junior officers nervous.

Dr. Crusher: Maybe since he couldn't make the other side to get to him, -he- had to get to the other side....

Dr. Soran: His heart just wasn't in it. (Scenes of chicken torture with nanoprobes have been edited out.)

Scotty: Because she couldna take much morrrrrre.

Charlie X: Because it didn't want to STAY...STAY...STAY...

Kirk: You chicken bastard, you killed my son...YOU chicken BASTARD, you killed...my SON...you CHICKEN bastard....youkilledmy...son!

Bones: Dammit, I'm a doctor, not an ornithologist!

Tasha: That depends...was it fully functional?

Chekov: It must have been on its way to assist in saving my life for the billionth time..did I scream this time?

Khan: With my last breath I spit at the chicken...

Harry: I don't know, it's my first mission.

Paris: Well, I think that...say, that's a lovely shirt you're wearing.

Harvey Mudd: Chicken? I don't remember any chicken. No no no, there's been a terrible misunderstanding.

Crewman in red suit: "Captain, this chicken seems to have crossed the AAARRRGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!"

Nurse Chapel: Oh, Spock, I fixed you your favorite Vulcan plomeek and chicken soup!

Lwaxana: Oh, Jean-Luc!

Janeway: Its primary goal was no doubt to get back to the Alpha Quadrant...and it probably misses its dog.

Dr. Suess:

Would you, could you cross the street On your two small chicken feet?

I would not, could not cross the street On my two small chicken feet. Across the road I will not scram Even though a fowl I am.

Would you cross it in Japan To flee Godzilla and Rodan

Not in Japan Godzilla and Rodan I would not, could not cross the street On my two small chicken feet. Across the road I will not scram Even though a fowl I am.

Would you cross the road and cluck And jump to avoid the speeding truck?

Not with a cluck to avoid a truck Not in Japan Godzilla and Rodan I would not, could not cross the street On my two small chicken feet Across the road I will not scram Even though a fowl I am.

Would you hop across the road As though you were a garden toad?

Not across the road as though a toad Not with a cluck to avoid a truck Not in Japan Godzilla and Rodan I would not could not cross the street On my two small chicken feet. Across the road I will not scram Even though a fowl I am.

Would you cross it in the night Lit by passing car headlight?

Not in the night With car headlight Not across the road As though a toad Not with a cluck To avoid a truck Not in Japan Godzilla and Rodan I would not could not cross the street On my two small chicken feet. Across the road I will not scram Even though a fowl I am.

Please dear chicken give it a try For across the road you can not fly.

Alright! Alright! I'll give it a try For it is true, chickens can't fly. Hey! It's not bad, infact it's neat! I truly love to cross the street. Across the road I LOVE to scram. I cross the road, a fowl I am.

[austinonymous]

Make-Up

Title: Make-Up

Series: To the East | 1.At the Hawk’s Behest | 2. Make-Up

Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug / My Hero Academia

Ship: Marc x Nathaniel (mentioned)

Characters: Marc, Nathaniel (mentioned), OC (Marc’s Brother), Hawk Moth (mentioned)

Word Count: 1,622

Tags: Villain!Nathaniel , Villain!Marc

Warnings: Mentions of Abuse, bullying, lots of violence, and several implied-but-not-stated awful things

Rating: T 

AN: So this level of dark is a bit new for me- I usually write only fluff or happy things, with maybe a side-order of angst. When I had written the first prompt ofr this My Hero Academia fusion, my goal with including mentions of bullying was to translate what happened in ‘Reverser’, along with Nathaniel’s history of bullies, into something I could use for a My hero universe. In this one, I detail the type of bullying and abuse that happened in this AU before Marc went to school with Nathaniel. I really put Marc through the wringer here. Some of what he went through is only implied, so I’ll let people read into what I wrote and decide for themselves how much went down.

Marc hadn’t meant to make a statement when he had first worn make-up.

That’s not to say that he didn’t understand why his fellow students found him such a nice target. Marc’s figure was naturally slender and girlish, as his older brother would say. Marc understood that- he had been taught to expect cat-calls and comments at some point, should he decide to dress or look a certain way.

His brother wasn’t lying when people would peg him for a girl, or some f… some guy thinking he was one. His smooth and silky black hair had only added to the impression, especially since Marc had always worn it long and in a messy bun. He was often called a ‘little lady’ because of this as he grew up.

Marc hadn’t meant to make a statement. Or maybe his brother had. People just were wrong about which one he was making.

 When he was in elementary school, Marc had a friend. They had met when she had come up to him and declared that if he felt like a girl then she didn’t mind it. Marc had politely thanked her and just said he liked wearing the make-up. He was- what was the word his brother had used?  Ah, effeminate. That’s what he was.

That’s all? She had asked him that question doubtfully, unsure despite his insistence.

That’s all. Marc had replied with false confidence. He wasn’t in the wrong body, but he didn’t dare elaborate beyond that.

Marinette had taken that answer for what it was worth and started asking him what he enjoyed doing.

His parents had taken the make-up in stride; one could even argue that they didn’t give a damn. Marc wasn’t sure which it was to this day, more serious neglect or simply being busy. All these years later and he couldn’t tell if he still wore rose-tinted glasses of his parents.

People didn’t bully him for being quirkless at that time. It took time. The boys at first jeered and thought that some girlish f- girlish fop wasn’t worth their time. They had new cool quirks to try out! The girls too, thought this, though they rarely confronted him directly even when they did start bullying him.

That had changed one morning when he was older, maybe third or fourth grade. Marc had gotten in a fight with his brother and in the rush to get ready for school ended up putting on more make-up than usual. That drew new sneers and increased taunts and laughter. Then at recess, when Marc had decided to go to the corner of the yard away from the crowd for some peace, he was followed.

At first it was just taunting and pinches, startling him by using their quirks too close to him. Marc knew he had felt the familiar licks of flames on his arm, making him freeze in terror. That drew more laughs and jeers. One could excuse their behavior in a way; they were only children and did not understand exactly what they were doing to Marc.

Then suddenly, the ground rumbled as Epicenter stepped onto the field, livid. The kids around him had backed up quickly, offering the middle-schooler the first hit on the little fa-freak. Mess up that garish make-up Marc had on, smudge it up nicely.

Epicenter had laughed, and Marc knew what was coming, looking down. It was always like this. The punch laid him out on the ground, some blood from his nose landing on the grass and forming a nice mark on his make-up, something Marc couldn’t dare wipe away with destroying his careful work.

The boys had laughed at first and had tried to high-five the older boy, happy that the middle-schooler had found their new activity fun.

The boys soon were crying as Epicenter broke their bones and made them regret ever laying so much of a hand on Marc. It was fast, it was brutal, it was one-sided; exactly what the older middle-schooler was known for. Marc’s classmates hard really been quite stupid to not run.

People once more didn’t bully him for being quirkless at the time. Not when his older brother was the most notorious bully in the entire schoolyard.

“I’m surprised you don’t put on a dress you weak-ass fucking f….” Basil’s words fizzled out as Marc kept his head ducked down, drawing in on himself. The older boy sighed and with a growl brought the candle closer, smiling with satisfaction as Marc clenched his hand, betraying some response. “You should’ve known this would happen Pieter. Toughen the fuck up, you sniveling baby.”

His older brother wouldn’t be there to save him next time. And if he didn’t want his arm burned, he needed to be able to stand up to the jackass with the flame quirk.

Marc needed to use make-up on his arm sometimes after that day. He ran out of hoodies after the sleeves were burned.

There would come a time when people stopped bullying him for being quirkless. It was when he was in middle school, his brother now in high school. The incident hadn’t happened when he was at school this time.

His parents were home early for once and were arguing quite loudly. Marc wasn’t sure what it was about exactly, but he was certain that one of them had lost their jobs. He would later learn that it was both that had.

Basil had been quite stressed out over the whole situation; he was pacing the room he still shared with Marc angrily, running his hand through his hair nervously. Once he had graduated from high school and was living on his one, Marc could understand why- suddenly losing your main sources of income was highly stressful.

Marc was soon dragged in by his collar and thrown onto the bed, a fist punching his face. If there was one thing that an older Marc was glad about was that his brother’s homophobia at the very least kept it to hits only. But unlike the one or two that usually came, the occasional kick, Basil didn’t stop.

Pieter, defend yourself!

Pieter, you useless sack of shit, fight for once!

Pieter, you better give me a fucking fight!

Marc had gritted his teeth and finally, screamed with tears in his eyes, “If you want a fight so much, go hurt someone else! Try and kill someone else for once!”

His hand had moved on its own like he was throwing something.  It was instinctual, it was self-defense, it was out of his control.

Basil had stilled once the black-and-white-paper-plane had hit him and dissolved. He seemed to be processing what Marc had screamed, as Marc shivering and sobbed underneath his much larger and muscular frame. He gave his younger brother a wicked grin and ruffled his hair.

“Sure thing kiddo! Just stay here you fucking useless bitch, I’ve decided to be merciful for once.” Epicenter stood up and stretched, walking out the door as he grabbed the machete he kept displayed proudly on his desk. It was a wicked thing, with a blade sharp enough to slice through anything. Marc had dubbed it the Tank-Top Killer after he had to throw out all of his tank-tops because of it.

The heroes came by relatively soon. Marc had not left his room- he could see some blood just outside his door and couldn’t stomach to see what was out there should he decide to walk out. The heroes had been horrified about what had happened to him, even if Marc knew it was his fault. Epicenter hadn’t stopped fighting, not after the first five blocks were rubble, not after the heroes arrived, not after two were wounded and another three blocks destroyed.

To this day, most people believed Reverser was unable to make his changes to people permanent. Even his boyfriend was unable to figure out why he refused to; Evillustrator was at least kind enough to not pry. Hawk-Moth, on the other hand, had been quite amused by what he’d forced out.

When he was put into the foster system since all his relatives were no longer able to take care of him, Marc asked to change his name legally. He got to choose his name to start over again with; he thought it was fitting in a way. Marc Anciel- a name that was a play on the part of himself he’d decided to accept. Maybe he was a f… a fa… that word… but he couldn’t hide his attraction to boys anymore. Nor did he need to.

He didn’t need to wear his make-up anymore.

Then it was the first day of high school, with a quirk at his side and new friends to be made (he had heard Marinette was going to this school too). He pulled on his tie-dye shirt, painted his nails and shouldered his backpack confidently. He looked in the mirror- and Marc faltered.

The bruises were gone and the scar from knife and flame alike were covered by his hoodie but… this wasn’t him. Maybe the boy under the make-up was what he had been born as, but what he knew, what he was comfortable with…

But this time, he wouldn’t wear it because he was being forced to learn. Because he had no choice. Marc was able to choose for himself this time, and sure, maybe he’d messed everything up so far, but… he could do this right? This one little thing.

He’d claw his way along no matter what. He’d live, if only to stick it to that bastard Epicenter.

Marc sat down and hummed, genuinely happy, as he pulled out his brushes and turned on the mirror’s light to get started.

[kitty-bandit]

In the Garden

Fandom: D.Gray-man Rating: G Pairings: Lenalee x Lou Fa Total Words: 1K Tags: Modern AU; Domestic Bliss; Fluff; Gardening

Read on AO3.

This is a ko-fi commission for @silentium-nightshade! Hope you enjoy it!

The late summer sun beat down through the leaves of the young maple tree, light dappling across Lenalee’s bare shoulders. She wiped away the sweat collecting on her forehead, taking a short break from gardening in the shade. They’d been working amongst the flowers and vegetables since mid-morning, and as the afternoon sun grew hotter, Lenalee’s energy waned.

“Lena,” Lou Fa called, kneeling next to the lavender as she dusted the fertilizer off her gloved hands. “Have you given up already?”

Lenalee smiled, graceful as always, and brushed a few stray strands of hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry. I think the sun got to me. I just need a short break and I promise to weed the vegetable bed.”

Lou Fa waved off her apologies and joined her under the tree, settling next to her in the soft grass. The smell of peonies, hydrangeas, and dahlias filled the air with a lovely fragrance, but Lenalee could barely focus on it—especially when Lou Fa’s smile distracted her so sweetly. It was too easy to fall into her innocent eyes. “Don’t worry about it! We’re about due for a break, anyway.” She nudged her shoulder against Lenalee’s, smile widening. “Do you want some lemonade? I made some this morning.”

“That would be nice, actually.” Lenalee laid back in the grass, looking at the basket of herbs and ripe vegetables Lou Fa had already plucked from the garden. The basket was overflowing with produce—more than the two of them could eat before it spoiled. She would have to figure out what to do with all the tomatoes from this week’s harvest.

“I’ll go grab us some, and maybe make a snack?” Lou Fa stood and brushed the dirt and grass from her capris, glancing back at Lenalee.

“That sounds perfect.” Lenalee watched as Lou Fa disappeared back into the house before stretching out on her back and staring up at the bright blue sky. It was such a nice day, she almost hated to waste it toiling away in the gardens. She was itching to grab her swimsuit and head to the beach to cool off, but the beds needed tending, and she knew it would rain for the next few days. If she waited to weed the garden until the weather cleared up again, the weeds would be over her head.

At least it was fun spending her day off with her girlfriend. She couldn’t complain about that one bit.

Sitting up, a few stray blades of grass sticking in her hair, she began to pluck dandelions from the grass around her. The bright yellow flowers always managed to find a home in their yard, and though most of her neighbors hated the flower and called it a weed, she rather liked them. They brightened up their yard and the bees loved them—and more bees in their yard meant better pollination for the vegetables.

She twisted the dandelion stems together, carefully weaving the ends. Slowly, the linked chain elongated, the flowers brushed up against her crossed legs as she worked. By the time Lou fa had returned, she had just connected the ends together.

Lou Fa set a tray down on the ground next to Lenalee, two glasses of iced lemonade and a bowl of cut apples, grapes, and oranges slices. She giggled as she sat down, taking one of the perspiring glasses for herself. “What are you up to?”

Lenalee’s lips quirked into a smile, soft and loving. “Making a crown for my queen,” she said, setting the dandelion flower crown on top of Lou Fa’s head.

Blushing, Lou Fa hid her face behind the rim of her glass. She wiped at the dirt on her shirt and pants, clearly flustered. “I-I’m not a queen.”

“I beg to differ,” Lenalee assured her, leaning in to press a kiss to her sweaty cheek.

Lou Fa flushed brighter yet, and made an adorable surprised sound before taking a long gulp of her lemonade. When she finally came up for air, she tried to change the subject. “I thought some fruit would be a good snack before we finish. We’ll be making dinner in a few hours, anyway.”

Nodding, Lenalee took a grape and bit into it, sighing as the flavor burst on her tongue. She devoured a few more grapes and apple slices before taking a break. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was. “What should we make? We’ve got all those tomatoes from the garden.”

Lou Fa picked a few slices of orange, nibbling on the juicy flesh as she pondered the question. “Mmm. Maybe a fresh salad? There’s some red lettuce and spinach that I can harvest—snow peas and carrots as well. We could make some chicken or salmon fillets on the side.”

Lenalee’s stomach rumbled at the thought, and she laughed softly as she took another few slices of apple. “Well, my stomach seems to think it’s a good idea. Let’s do it!”

“Okay! We’re almost done weeding anyway. We just need to check around the basil and the beans.” She tapped her chin in thought, eyes bright behind her thick glasses. “Oh! And we should thin the carrots out while we’re at it. We’ll use the small ones in the salad.”

“Can’t argue with that.” Lenalee took a long, slow sip from her glass, the tart lemon on her tongue brightening her mood and giving her a burst of renewed energy. Still, it was hard to get up off the soft grass when she had Lou Fa at her side. “Let’s just sit here a few more minutes, though.”

“Of course,” Lou Fa replied, scooting closer to Lenalee. She felt the perspiration drip from her glass and onto her bare leg, sending a chill down Lenalee’s spine. Their knees touched, clumsy and innocent, and Lou Fa rubbed her nose, smearing a few specks of dirt across her cheeks in the process. “I mean, we have to finish our fruit, don’t we?”

“Right,” Lenalee added, a grin slipping onto her face. She leaned in closer, uncaring about the sweat and dirt on their skin, and rested her head against Lou Fa’s shoulder. “We can’t waste the fruit.”

[basicsofislam]

PROPHET MUHAMMAD (PBUH)’s BIOGRAPHY :  New Marriages of the Prophet

THE PROPHET’S MARRIAGE TO HAZRAT HAFSA

(3rd Year of the Migration, the month of Shaban)

It was two months before the Battle of Uhud.

The Prophet married Hazrat Hafsa, Hazrat Umar’s daughter.

Hazrat Hafsa, who had been born before the Messenger of God was given the duty of prophethood, had married Khu­nays b. Huza­fa. When Khunays died, Hazrat Hafsa became a widow.( Ibn Sa’d, Tabaqat, Vol. 8, p. 81. )

Hazrat Umar asked Hazrat Uthman politely to marry his daughter; when Uthman did not give a positive answer, he asked Hazrat Abu Bakr. However, he did not give a positive or negative answer.

Feeling sorry after those talks, Hazrat Umar went to the Messenger of God and told him what had happened. When the Prophet noticed the hearty wish of Hazrat Umar, he did not want to leave him sad and said, 

“Shall I tell you the name of a better son-in-law than Uthman for you and a better father-in-law than you for Uthman?” 

Hazrat Umar said, 

“Yes, O Messenger of God!” 

The Messenger of God said, 

“You marry your daughter Hafsa off to me and I will marry my daughter Umm Kulthum to Uthman!”( Ibn Sa’d, ibid, Vol. 8, p. 82-83. )

Hazrat Umar was pleased by this offer very much and accepted it at once. Thus, the Prophet included Hazrat Hafsa among her clean wives and married his daughter Umm Kulthum off to Hazrat Uthman. Hazrat Uthman had been married to Ruqayya, the daughter of the Prophet that died later. When he married Umm Kulthum, he was given the nickname, “Dhun-Nurayn [The Owner of Two Lights]”.

THE PROPHET’S MARRIAGE TO HAZRAT ZAYNAB BINT KHUZAYMA

Ubayda b. Harith, the husband of Hazrat Zaynab b. Khuzayma had been wounded in the Battle of Badr and died in a place called Safra due to this wound. Therefore, Hazrat Zaynab became a widow.

The Messenger of God honored this woman, whose husband was martyred in the way of elevating the name of God, by marrying her in the 3rd year of the the Migration in the month of Ramadan.

Hazrat Zaynab was known as “Ummu’l-Masakin [Mother of the Poor]” because she fed the poor and showed mercy to them.

Hazrat Zaynab died when she was thirty after living with the Prophet for about three months. The Prophet himself performed her janazah prayer. She was buried in the Cemetery of Baqi.( Ibn Hisham, Sirah, Vol. 4, p. 296-297; Ibn Sa’d, Tabaqat, Vol. 8, p. 115; Ibn Abdi’l-Barr, al-Istiab, Vol. 4, p. 1853. )

HAZRAT HASAN’S BIRTH

In the 3rd year of the the Migration, something that pleased the Messenger of God happened; Hazrat Hasan, his grandson, was born. Hazrat Hasan was the one that resembled the Prophet the most among the grandsons of the Prophet. Therefore, Fatima, her mother said, 

“My child who resembles the Prophet the most” 

when she caressed him.( Ahmad Ibn Hanbal, Musnad, Vol. 6, p. 283. )

The Messenger of God loved his grandsons, Hazrat Hasan and Husayn, very much. He sometimes put them on his shoulders and carried them saying, 

“They are my two basils that I kiss and caress in this world.”( Tirmidhi, Sunan, Vol. 5, p. 323. )

He sometimes put Hazrat  Hasan on his shoulders, carried him and said, 

“O God! I love him. You love him and those who love him!”( Bukhari, Sahih, Vol. 4, p. 217. )

[kpopfanfictrash]

Holiday Drabble Prompts

1.      “I thought you said this was eggnog.”

2.      “It’s deck the halls with boughs of holly, not jolly, you idiot.”

3.      “Even Jesus was given a stable to sleep in.”

4.      “THAT’S IT, COAL FOR EVERYONE.”

5.      “You’re about as jolly as a humbug.”

6.      “Don’t get your tinsel in a tangle.”

7.      “The tree isn’t the only thing getting LIT this year.”

8.      “The cranberry sauce is burnt?! That’s it, holiday over.”

9.      “Always jingle all the way. No one likes a half-ass jingler.”

10.   “Christmas is cancelled, please leave presents at the door on the way out.”

11.   “When I think about you, I touch my elf.”

12.   “I can hear those sleigh bells jingling.”

“Halloween ended nine minutes ago.”

13.   “Your opinion wasn’t in the recipe.”

14.   “It’s beginning to look a lot like cocktails.”

15.   “Sweet but twisted, does that make me a candy cane?”

16.   “Hoe hoe hoe, bitches.”

17.   “Fake smiles everyone, it’s Christmas!”

18.   “Friends don’t give friends fruitcake.”

19.   “All I want for Christmas is you. No, not you – arrogant, much?”

20.   “One day of coal, 364 days of fun – I’ll take my chances.”

21.   “Can I get a copy of that naughty list?”

22.   “What’s so great about Santa? I hear he only comes once a year.”

23.   “I’m dreaming of a white Christmas, but if the white runs out – I’ll drink the red.”

24.   “Guess we’re sharing that twin bed.”

25.   “Most people bring flowers. I’m not most people.”

26.   “Damn, YES! The Great Christmas Bake Off, I love this show!”

27.   “Look, anyone who thinks pumpkin is better than pecan can eat on the damn floor.”

28.   “Pin the tail on the reindeer was a horrible idea.”

29.   “I made that for you with love. Also, because I’m broke.”

30.   “Tinsel is the weed on Christmas’ front lawn.”

31.   “I’m not greedy, I only want one golden ring for Christmas!”

32.   “Fa la-la la-la, la-la la no.”

33.   “If you give me a dick-in-a-box, you’re going to be alone on New Year’s.”

34.   “What even is figgy pudding?”

35.   “Silent night, holy night. All is calm, all is – OKAY, THAT’S IT.”

36.   “On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me – nothing, because he forgot we were going to my parents’ house.”

37.   “Cookies for Santa, milk for Santa – and protein bars for the reindeer because damn, how many miles?!”

38.   “That is the saddest Christmas tree I’ve ever seen.”

39.   “How many elves on the shelf is too many?”

40. “Is that coal in your pocket or are you happy to see me?”

41. “Oh, shit, children - duck!”

42. “I hate carolers. They’re full of yuletide joy.”

43. “That’s not mistletoe, that’s basil.”

44. “That’s one thing you can’t put a bow on.”

45. “Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good fright.”

co-written by @knockknocksoosthere and @changseobbing