#this was pretty quick and I intend to do an extended version of this when i finally get around to writing the next chapter of Good Dog | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

allisonreader · 5 months ago

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So I’m pretty sure that there’s only a couple of people on this site who might be remotely interested in this. As it is on the Pixar Cars more side of interest, but even beyond that, it deals with my fan fiction of @nurfhurdur 's Hard Enough Left and Life’s Highway stories and related works. In particular the non-canon/headcanon children of a particular set of characters.

I’m going to go into excessive detail (but vaguely) about all of the many different possibilities of children for Doc Jesse Hudson and his wife Emily Piston (including the genderbent versions of said characters as Jessica and Emery Erik). And I should mention that while I very much consider most of these characters both Nurfhudur’s and mine, some are definitely more mine than others, some are definitely Nurf’s and others really are more from my imagination but I’m just going to treat them collectively as equally both mine and hers, hers and mine.

First I’m going to actually start off with some different children (nieces and nephews) because they typically don’t change and typically even remain pretty static with age spacing.

(You’re going to get lost real quick if you have no knowledge of either my Extended Connections or without Nurf's Hard Enough Left for mentioned characters.)

So to start off with Smokey and Joan’s kids!

Their oldest is Rebecca Anne, and their youngest is Daniel Aaron.

Then next is Ruth and her husband! (Depending on the exact Ruth lives AU can change who her husband is. At first we (Nurf and I, always Nurf and I when I say we) discussed River, but he was quickly forgotten about and pretty much never pops up again as an option beyond that original time. Otherwise it’s Joe Moore or my character John Winters. Any which way it doesn’t matter. The kids are always the same.)

Ruth has twin girls Penelope “Penny” and Josephine "Josie” (both girls had middle names when I first came up with them, but I no longer really remember them besides Caroline being one of them.) and then they also have a little brother Gabriel “Gabe” (I don’t think he ever had a middle name, Nurf came up with him originally.)

And just for now I’m skipping Jesse and Emily because of how confusing their list is going to get, as I intend to list a bunch of the different children combinations with them with is A LOT. For now, onto Emily’s brother.

Alexander and “Bea” Beatrice, have three kids.

Their eldest is Stephen Edward (I know that this should be pronounced Steven, but I always am internally calling him Stefen), then there’s Bernard “Bernie” Alexander, and their youngest Lynda “Lyn” Ellenore (who I have deemed to be Strip Weathers' wife in all my work.

Age comparison for all of the nieces and nephews.

Stephen is oldest out of them all.

Rebecca is a year younger.

Bernard is a year younger than Rebecca.

Daniel is a year younger than Bernard.

Lynda is a year younger than Daniel.

Penny and Josie are a year younger than Lynda. Though Penny is the oldest of the twins.

Gabe is three years younger than his twin sisters. (Penny and Josie.)

This age gap for these kids doesn’t tend to really fluctuate like Jesse and Emily’s do depending on the AU.

So now we get into the complex mess that is the varying age gaps and kids that Jesse and Emily (Jessica and Erik) have. I’ll start with just a basic rundown of every kid that I can remember them (and sometimes people other than just them have.)

Starting with the most common three.

Abigail “Abby” Anne

Eli Henry

Sarah Margaret

Lauren*

William “Will”

Ella

Benjamin

Maggie

Elizabeth

(These next ones on the list should sound suspiciously familiar)

Stephen*

Bernard *

Lynda*

Rebecca *

Daniel *

(*due to adoption)

Now there are all too many AUs to be able to explain just how the kids are all related and in what manner, so I’ll only hit on some of the larger broader AUs that get broken down into more niche AUs.

To start, I’m going to say that the first three (Abby, Eli, Sarah) are kind of the main three and arguably Abby and Eli are the two who are the more developed ones (mainly because there’s the most AUs with them in them.)

Abby is typically the first born, if not only child of Jesse and Emily (and their genderbent counterparts Jessica “Jess” and Erik”). Abby first came about in the original Ruth lives turn Granddad Doc AU. (This original version of the Ruth lives turned Granddad Doc AU is where River was Ruth's husband for the only time.) This AU had also turned into Abby being the mother of Lightning McQueen.

There were no other kids at this point for Jesse and Emily. It was only once the Genderbent AU came into action that Eli was thought up, making Abby a big sister for the first time. And it was just those two for a time. Abby staying away from racing, while Eli going into the admin side of things. At some point it was brought up for Abby and Eli to be twins, surprising Jesse and Emily (who only happened to ever have more than one child if they happen to be multiples, though there has been a miscarriage before having healthy babies in a variety of different AUs, the first mentioned one being a version of the many variations of the Titanic AU). I don’t remember quite when or what scenario we first introduced Sarah in, but it was as a younger twin to Eli. Then the three as triplets. But no matter what, their ages/birth order is always the same. Abby is always the oldest of the three (sometimes by five years), while Eli is always the second born, and Sarah the youngest.

Now Lauren is an adopted child and she is one of the 4-5 options that makes Abby not be the eldest. Now Lauren isn’t one who pops up in a lot of AUs, she’s just sort of in the few from when she was first brought up and never really continued with. But there is an AU where she’s adopted, then Jess and Erik have/are expecting Abby (and possibly even Eli and Sarah), but then they end up with Alex and Bea's three kids after they die, leaving the Hudson/Piston house extremely full. That’s a house with seven kids in total. Four adopted kids and three biological kids and all of them loved equally. (Nanna; Emily/Erik's grandmother often moves in with the family to help with the kids). There’s also a version where Smokey’s kids are adopted by the Hudson/Piston couple, though that time doesn’t land them with quite as full as a house. And typically even if the Hudson/Piston couple don’t officially adopt Alex’s kids, Stephen and Lynda are unofficially adopted by them, since their parents don’t do the best job with them.

William is another exception, as he is a character created from a genderbent only AU. He doesn’t exist if his mom isn’t Jessica Hudson. His origins stem from a soulmate AU where Jessica and his father originally believed that they are each other’s soulmates (though they sadly aren’t, or at least not as strong as soulmates as Jess and Erik are.) William’s dad (also a Will) is a miner originally (a sailor in a version or two of the Titanic AU) who dies in a mining accident around the time that they learn that he’s being expected. Jess eventually meets Erik and as resistant as she is to him at first, does eventually give in to her heart and marry Erik and have Abby together.

Ella generally has one of the darkest origins as she a product from horrifying assault to Jess. Abby comes along much later in this AU due to trauma.

Benjamin only really gets mentioned in one small AU where Abby is older than the twins Eli and Sarah by five years, and some time travel is included in this one, as when Eli and Sarah were born Jess had died due to having been hit by a drunk driver. Leaving it a miracle that the twins survived and were rather healthy despite being quite premature. But the three kids had somehow managed to go back in time and save mom from dying. And once they returned to their own time, mom and dad were so happy, that they ended up with a little bit of a later in life baby of Benjamin.

Maggie sort of fits in with a version of the AU with William. As she’s Erik’s ex-wife's baby who may or may not be his or his brother’s or someone else’s as Erik's ex-wife was divorced for all the different affairs that she had and continued to have, including a continuously off and on affair with Alex.

Then last of all Elizabeth who is Jesse’s in an Exiled Prince AU. Born from a young lady who isn’t Emily, because Jesse was abused by his guardian and this young lady managed to help him survive it, but had complications with the birth of Elizabeth and died.

And that concludes the extremely brief breakdown of all the mentioned children throughout all of the discussed AUs, while hardly actually touching or going into detail about most of the AUs. Because there’s too many (and too detailed) to do any single AU justice through this.

#this is only about 10-15 words short of being 1600 words #sorry to go all cars fandom here again #I definitely don’t expect most people to have any interest in this as it’s extremely niche even within the cars fandom #as this is all vaguely about my own headcanons and AUs discussed with my friend Nurf as mentioned #I’m pretty sure that she’s the only one who might have any benefit to this #as much as this is over 1500 words it really doesn’t say much about the many different AUs that there are

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shihalyfie · 4 years ago

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"Canon” and “not canon” in the Adventure/02 universe

This is something I want to talk about, because it has a certain degree of relevance to the question of what I choose to take into account in my analyses and what I don’t. I write a lot about Adventure and 02 because both series are ridiculously consistent over their 104-episode runtime, but there are times when things contradict or don’t quite track together, and I have to figure out how to best rationalize them -- which means I need to make arbitrary decisions on what to count and not count, and when one does make those kinds of decisions, you’re very liable to get the complaint: “but that’s not canon!”

Which always makes me think: who decided that? And in the end, this is something that I think extends beyond just Digimon; every fanbase for everything always wants to believe there’s a clear-cut answer to things that everyone’s supposed to follow in a canonical timeline, and things that fall outside it. And sometimes, for some franchises, that is doable, because official staff will actually say outright that “this counts, and this doesn’t.” But that’s not how Toei and Bandai work, and their modus operandi has always been to toss a bunch of often-contradictory stuff at everyone and go “figure it out yourself,” and I think at some point the fanbase really needs to acknowledge that this so-called clear-cut boundary of “canon” and “not canon” doesn’t actually exist at all. Or in other words, any assertion of something being “canon” or “not canon” in the Adventure and 02 universe is purely something arbitrarily defined by fans, and was never determined by official - which, conversely, has actually encouraged you to take as much as you want and figure out the rest yourself.

Before we begin, I do want to make clear that this is not about one’s personal canon based on one’s own preferences -- that is to say, if you’re going “I don’t consider this canon because I don’t like this/don’t want to work with this,” then that’s entirely your right, especially if you’re doing creative work and need to decide what to apply and to not to apply. (Although, as always, one must be conscientious and respectful of those who do like it and consider it canon, because everyone’s going to differ on this.) What I am talking about is when people take a substantial part of the franchise that they otherwise like, such as a movie or drama CD, see one detail that’s contradictory in terms of the timeline or lore, and take that as evidence of “yep, the entire thing’s not canon. We’ll just throw the entire thing out, then.” It just makes me think -- you threw out a perfectly good work for that?! That’s such a waste!

First of all, Toei and Bandai don’t work that way

In general, a lot of the contradictions in the series have a “right hand is not talking to left hand” problem, because as much as we would like to believe that a Digimon series is written by a single consistent entity, the franchise itself is a huge trade-off between Toei and Bandai, and a lot of things from Bandai -- spinoffs, crossover material, games, what have you -- don’t exactly have a stellar track record of being vetted by Toei anime staff. It’s pretty well-known that game portrayals of certain characters can be really off or have misleading info, and even V-Tamer’s somewhat guilty of it. So this is going to happen no matter whether you like it or not, and it happens with any long-running kids’ series that involves a collaboration between multiple companies like this.

Moreover, the traditional custom for Toei “side movies” (in this case, meaning things like the original movie, Our War Game!, Hurricane Touchdown, and Diablomon Strikes Back) is that they’re produced with minimal involvement from the original series’s core staff -- at most, the producer is lightly involved -- and are sometimes even worked on simultaneously with the start of the original series, so you often end up with a movie that’s impossible to fit anywhere in the series timeline because there wasn’t any communication with the two sides. And for that, it’s all too easy to dismiss those movies as “non-canon”, with the fanbase arbitrarily deciding that canon ones are canon because they fit -- but Toei itself has never taken this stance.

The other thing is that, given that Adventure/02 is famous for its ridiculous level of worldbuilding consistency thanks to its director Kakudou’s conscientious efforts on it, it means that as a result, anything not made by him was prone to running afoul on it, and it’s not like the stance back then was to just reject all of it wholesale. “Doesn’t comply with the lore” is so often equated with “not canon”, but Kakudou, the author of that lore, not only made no indication of invalidating or disliking those non-compliant things, but also conversely made an active effort to make those things relevant in spite of that! (See: Our War Game! below.) The official stance is to not deny those works for being noncompliant -- it’s just that Kakudou seems to be the detail-oriented kind of person who personally prefers to work with things that have a high level of consistency (he’s very quick to say “I wasn’t involved on that” whenever someone brings up something from said external materials, not in any condescending way, just “I wasn’t involved, so don’t attribute that to me”). In fact, one of the reasons there wasn’t initially a third Adventure series was that he had difficulty finding a way to adhere to the higher-ups’ pressure to keep all of these contradictions consistent -- so the official stance itself is to try and maintain all of those side works, and that it would be better to end the series itself than to have to do something like deny them.

Which makes things very frustrating for the fans, of course, but nevertheless, that’s how it is -- even back in 2000, the right-hand-not-talking-to-left-hand phenomenon was this significant! And it would have been easy for official to step in and go “okay, we’ll put a statement out here that these don’t apply,” but no, the stance was be that it would be better to stop dragging it out longer and cancel a whole series than to deny those works, which leads us to the current situation. (Plus, think how insulting it would feel from a PR perspective if someone got attached to one of those “non-canon” materials only for official to come out and outright say “yeah this doesn’t count anymore”; we can name examples of this happening in other franchises that have understandably gotten a lot of people upset, and it would be especially offensive to do this right after said material had been released.)

Bolstering the concept of official staff’s very loose opinion of “canon” are the Adventure novels, which were supervised by Kakudou himself and written by Digimon episode screenwriter Masaki Hiro, and are non-compliant with Adventure timeline by design, because it’d be bad for the format to try and depict every single detail in the anime in the form of three novels. Several events are condensed or shuffled out of order, or even sometimes completely different (Koushirou’s incident with Vadermon goes very differently from the anime version). Despite that, this is said directly to be intended as a series of novels to help people understand Adventure and 02 better, and several details in Two-and-a-Half Year Break and Spring 2003 are incredibly consistent with it (namely in the sense of details meant to retroactively connect Adventure to 02, and other background details like Daisuke’s backstory). So you are supposed to do some kind of mental leap where you don’t take the contradictions around the actual events too seriously, but still accept the spirit and the background information you learn from it and retroactively apply it to Adventure and 02 -- and, presumably, that’s probably what you’re expected to do with everything else, too.

And this isn’t even getting into the fact that the anime itself has occasional contradictions and errors due to things like animator error or simply different writers writing different episodes -- the Adventure and 02 staff were certainly very detail-oriented, but they are human and of course inevitably slipped up here and there. How seriously do you take honorifics shifting from episode to episode in ways that don’t seem intentional, or the fact every background material refers to Osamu and Ken having a bunk bed and yet the actual episode with both of them fails to depict it? How do you deal with the fact that the Animation Chronicle is one of the most extensively useful post-02 reference materials with tons of production background info not revealed in the anime, and yet is infamously full of suspected typos that would cause some pretty massive implications if true, or all of those other Bandai and Shueisha-commissioned “side books” and other pieces of media meant to entertain the kids while the series was airing but clearly had no input from Toei staff whatsoever?

In the end, frustrating as it is, the answer seems to be the same as ever: figure it out yourself.

The standards for what’s “canon” and “not canon” are way too arbitrary

Let’s look at a handful of things that have been historically dismissed as “non-canon” by the fanbase:

The Adventure mini dramas and Armor Evolution to the Unknown: Drama CDs that were generally dismissed as non-canon because they’re “too crack” to be canon (their writing style is of the “it’s okay to push the boundaries of characterization for the sake of comedy” sort, and it wouldn’t be until later when we finally got some more serious drama CDs). The latter is full of honorific inconsistencies, most prominently Daisuke and Ken still being on surname basis at a time they’re not supposed to be (due to the fact that it was released while the series was still being produced). But official word is that you’re still supposed to consider them canon -- and yes, that’s Kakudou himself giving official sanction to a drama CD that involved a massive amount of fourth wall breaking and a completely unexplained reunion between the Adventure kids and their Digimon sometime between 1999 and 2002 (apparently this wasn’t the only one, either). How is this supposed to work? Figure it out yourself.

Hurricane Touchdown: The funny part is that up until Kizuna validated Wallace’s existence, there was no actual consistent agreement on why this movie shouldn’t be canon (the Western side being “evolutionary form timeline violations”, the Japanese side being Wallace’s status as a Chosen Child prior to 1995), which really goes to show you how arbitrary all of this is. It also has a sequel drama CD in the form of The Door to Summer, which is also contradictory with Hurricane Touchdown’s ending, so we’ve got two layers of “it can’t be canon because...” -- and yet it has a lot of interesting Daisuke characterization, and, heck, the whole character of Wallace himself, that would all be rejected if you throw this out wholesale. Then Kizuna came along, and there’s a general sense of hesitation against easily denying officially-sanctioned “main” entries like that, which retroactively forced people to somehow skip past all that and accept it, just for the sake of Kizuna’s notability.

Diablomon Strikes Back: Similar to the above, it used to be constantly dismissed as “a non-canon fun movie” because of the evolutionary forms that appear in it, despite the fact that 02 itself established that it wasn’t that hard to restore evolutionary forms if you figured something out. Somehow, a ton of people treated it as such an impossibility that “they figured it out in the first three months of 2003″ would be a viable explanation, and yet official word is that of the second through fourth movies, this is the one that had the most amount of initial consultation with the TV anime staff! And then tri. and Kizuna came along and clearly had high-level evolutions in play too, and dismissing DSB on these grounds meant dismissing those by proxy, and a lot of people were too intimidated to do that and decided to retroactively validate DSB instead, after years of having dismissed it for this reason. Again: look how arbitrary this all is.

The tri. stage play: Mainly because its timeline of events doesn’t fit tri. at all (in regards to the reboot and part 5). This is a fair assessment to make in light of the fact that it doesn’t seem to work very hard to be compliant with the very series it’s branded with, but, funnily enough, it’s actually more lore-compliant with the original Adventure and 02 than the tri. anime series is, and yet the few minor contradictions it makes with the tri. anime series are sufficient to consider it completely kicked out of canon, yet those same people who declare it so aren’t as willing to hold the anime to that same standard just because it holds a more prominent “main” position.

On the other hand, let’s look at some of the things that have been more likely to be accepted than the above:

Our War Game!: Reading this is probably going to make everyone go “whaaaaaat?”, but yep: according to Kakudou, the second through fourth movies were all made without his supervision or involvement and thus have lore contradictions (although he also made sure to say that they’re very fine movies, too). We still haven’t figured out what the lore contradiction is, and so the fanbase considers it canon, and even 02 itself makes multiple references to “the Diablomon incident” in 2000, so you can’t consider this non-canon in the slightest...but yes, according to the official side, it’s actually got a contradictory incursion somewhere in there. There is one hypothesis as to what it is, and it’s such a minor thing that no fan or even official member of staff would dare deny the movie for it, but it still contributes to how arbitrary this entire concept is: Kakudou didn’t want to give anyone (except Miyako, who’s based off a real person) canonical birthdays or blood types for the sake of preventing horoscoping, but Sora’s birthday is portrayed as being around March in the movie. And yes, Kakudou himself refers to this as being something that only happened because he wasn’t involved. (Remember what I said about him historically being quick to disclaim involvement on anything he wasn’t involved on, regardless of how much of a minor detail it is, yet doesn’t necessarily intend to deny the work entirely due to it?)

Tag Tamers: A very vital part of Ken’s backstory that establishes a lot of context behind the Dark Seed and the elusive Akiyama Ryou, which also does not make sense with 02′s timeline and characterization at all, presumably because Bandai and Toei weren’t properly communicating on what kind of details they needed to iron out for this. But of course, all of us would like some explanation to Ken’s backstory, and we have to apply some kind of logic as to how that makes sense, and I’ve yet to see people declare Tag Tamers (or any of the other WonderSwan games) as entirely non-canon as a result.

tri.: For obvious reasons, it’s a “major entry in the franchise”, so people are generally more averse to dismissing it so easily (or, at least, for reasons that aren’t related to pure preference), but I find it rather ironic that Kizuna’s the one that got all the attention for apparently being lore non-compliant, when the exact same lore points mentioned in Kakudou’s reasoning as to why it’s non-compliant (along with a ton of things that actually were in Adventure and 02′s text) are gone against even more regularly and prominently in tri., whereas Kizuna still goes out of its way to adhere to most of these and only seems to have incurred a contradiction in terms of originally intended ideology, and, possibly, its extensive use of the aforementioned movies. (Recall that this got brought up for Kizuna specifically because Kakudou was initially consulted for it; he wasn’t involved in tri. to begin with at all.) See above on how people’s unwillingness to write this one off so easily despite everything ended up retroactively dragging DSB into “accepted canon” territory; that’s how arbitrary this entire thing is.

Then, tied to all of this and making it even more confusing is Kizuna, which, again, putting all issues of personal preference aside, is basically being torn back and forth between all of these whenever you try to apply one of the above arbitrary standards. It’s allegedly lore-noncompliant with Kakudou’s lore and thus lacks his involvement, but it does have the involvement of original series producer Seki Hiromi who was known to be responsible for the series’s original human drama themes (including the premise of 02 itself) and personally vetted the scripts so that everyone could be properly in-character and the original themes still intact; it’s supposedly a “main” entry to the point where people will stop denying older works’ canonicity because of it (see Hurricane Touchdown above), but, legally speaking, is actually classified in the same “gekijouban” category that the first four movies and things like the Tamers through Savers movies are; the staff will say to hell and back that the 02 epilogue still holds (and the movie makes abundant retroactive references in both worldbuilding and themes to it), but many people out there will still insist that the movie ending that way means that (like with DSB above) “they figured it out” between the movie’s ending and the epilogue is apparently some kind of impossibility, and either the movie is non-canon or the 02 epilogue is invalidated now. (My personal stance on this is that the epilogue itself provides the answer to how they figure it out if you look closely at the movie’s themes, but that’s a tangent.)

The point I’m trying to make is that regardless of whatever stance you take on all of the above points, this is all extremely arbitrary, and these fanbase rationalizations on why this and that isn’t canon are constantly contradicting each other, shifting, and occasionally based on really meaningless things. And, again, it’s fine if you’re saying that you don’t consider this or that canon because you personally dislike it or where it went, or you find it difficult to work with, or between two contradictory things you prefer one or the other (I certainly have my fair share of strong opinions in this regard) -- but it would be better if we all admitted this and went “I just don’t consider this canon” instead of acting like there were ever some universal consensus or official backing.

"It didn’t happen this exact way, but something resembling it still happened”

So, we’re in this uncomfortable situation where we’ve been handed a ball of knots and have to work with it (a very frustrating situation especially for fanfic writers), and I have to personally say that I think all of this comes from people having far too inflexible of a concept of “canon” and “not canon”, especially to the point of rejecting a full-on perfectly fine entry just because of one timeline issue. I honestly think it’d be better if we could rather take a certain stance close to the Pixiv dictionary wiki’s view of how Wallace can appear in Kizuna: “(some version of) Wallace exists in the timeline of the main story.”

Right, so: Hurricane Touchdown is contradictory. The evolutions don’t work at that point in timeline, and Wallace shouldn’t be able to be a Chosen Child from before 1995. Those things don’t work with Adventure and 02′s timeline and lore. However, let’s look at the following story: let’s say that, between 02 episodes 14 and 15 (when the movie first screened), while school was on break, Daisuke and his friends went on a summer adventure to the US and met a boy named Wallace, who had a struggle regarding one of his partners losing his sanity, and bonded with him and helped put his partner to rest. No part of this contradicts 02 at all. There we go! So we can safely say that some story that mostly resembled Hurricane Touchdown happened in the canon timeline. Some of its details weren’t exactly the way they happened in “the movie we, as the audience, saw” -- but something that substantially resembled the movie still happened in the universe of Daisuke and his friends. And you can apply that same logic to Tag Tamers, or any other vital canonical but ostensibly contradictory material -- the media that we as the audience got may not accurately reflect the events in universe, but there’s absolutely nothing saying that some more timeline and lore-consistent alternate version didn’t happen in canon instead.

Moreover, even Adventure/02 itself gives you a bit of precedent for this concept -- namely, the fact that the final episode of 02 reveals that the entirety of Adventure and 02 is part of Takeru’s novels. It’s a pretty common theory that there might be differences in the way “the story we got” was presented, versus how they actually happened in the world Takeru lived in -- of course, Takeru certainly went out of his way to remove as much bias from the situation as he could, but you can hardly say that he, as a human, would be completely free from it, and he himself even admits that everyone he consulted had differing opinions on the events in question. And not every single piece of Digimon media has the Hirata-Hiroaki-as-Takeru narrator, which means that perhaps it’s not entirely out of the question that the different takes on the stories that the Tokyo Chosen Children went through in their youth would not be entirely consistent with each other, depending on who’s telling it. But that doesn’t mean that those events necessarily didn’t happen at all, just that some of the details were different from what we as the audience saw.

In the end, I leave the rest to everyone else to figure out -- as I said, I think this is a decision everyone will have to make for themselves, whether they’re a fanfic writer picking and choosing what to include for the sake of a coherent fic, or whether they’re just expressing a preference to not have to think too hard about or work with something they’re turned off by. (And in the case that there is someone who expresses their dislike of working with something and doesn’t want to consider it canon, I think it’s very rude to give them grief for that, and conversely, if you don’t want to consider something canon but encounter someone who doesn’t have as much of a problem with it, it’s very rude to try and expect them to change their opinion to yours.) But I do think it would do well for all of us to have a bit more of an open mind and a creative attitude towards these kinds of things before trying to shove everything into a “fully canon” and “fully not canon” binary.

#digimon #digimon adventure #digimon adventure 02 #shihameta #kizuna spoilers

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gallickingun · 4 years ago

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the space between || b.k.

SUMMARY: It’s been a long time since Bokuto has had a Saturday morning off, and you plan to use it to your full advantage.

PAIRING: Bokuto Koutarou x Fem!Reader RATINGS: T+ WARNINGS: mentions of nudity, emotional cuddles, etc. WORD COUNT: 4.2k+

Author’s Note: This was supposed to be a cute, quick little fic about cuddling in the nude with Bokuto and here we are, four thousand words later. I hope you guys like it, my first Bo piece! 💕

The plush of the mattress jostles and you find yourself stirring from the realm of slumber, eyes still glued together with the sleep that fogs your mind. You are living in a haze, a mixture of your sleep deprivation and the boneless way your body lies within the sheets, joints and muscles aching from the tortuous pleasure you’ve been put through by the man you love most.

You want to stretch and open your eyes, to crack open your lids to find him sleeping next to you, a divot in the duvet where his hefty body has taken residence. But it is too difficult and too tiring to even think of putting forth effort at this point, your appendages practically creaking with the gentle movements you attempt to make. And so you settle for nosing yourself further into the down of your pillow instead, drinking in the warmth and the smell of his shampoo off the sheets.

“Sleepy head,” his voice is just a touch too loud for you to find enticing this early in the morning, despite how ravenous you were to hear it only a few hours prior, “s’time to get up, c’mon.”

You whine, screwing your eyes shut even further to the point where your vision throws speckles of fire against the backs of your lids. Every one of your muscles aches and you cannot force yourself to do anything other than lie there and take whatever verbal or physical assaults he chooses to instill upon you.

It starts with his palm, warm and expansive, running up your thighs. You clench the muscles as you feel his weight settle between your knees, his body still above the covers, your bare skin still hidden to him from the neck down. He chuckles and the baritone of it makes your spine shudder, your toes curling in anticipation, the build up before the burst.

With Bokuto, there is always a burst.

A gentle kiss is pressed to your navel, the bow of his lips finding the dip in your skin despite the barrier of a high thread count between the two of you. In response, you turn your head so your cheek is pressed into the pillow, embarrassment flooding your body in the form of a heated flush, singeing his fingertips as he roams your skin above the sheets. You’re too attuned to his ministrations, and everything that he does sends your body into a flurry of desire, as if your atoms were built to suffer until he brings a soothing balm of his own to you in the form of his fingerprints.

“Not ready yet, Bo,” you reach for him with one wavering hand, futile save for the fact that he longs for your skin nearly as much, if not more, than you long for his. Your thumb finds his bicep and it allows you enough of a guide to flatten your palm against the muscle, mapping out he curve along his deltoid, where you hook your middle finger to keep yourself steady, anchoring yourself to him like he was some sort of lifeboat, “Come back to bed.”

Your voice is slurred enough to make even the strongest of men weak, Bokuto thinks. The lilt each syllable carries, the way your eyes roll behind translucent lids, it’s all too much for his flimsy form. He can spike at what feels like one hundred miles per hour, but when he’s this close to you, his muscles atrophy and his heart stops beating.

You are a force to be reckoned with, and his heart always begs for just another whirlwind of you.

Bokuto is laughing again, this time nuzzling the apex of his face along your abdomen, counting out your ribs with the tip of his nose. It’s almost as if he’s making sure that you’re still all here, like he might have lost bits and pieces of you in the night. His breath is warm against your skin, adding to the heat the your body is accumulating from the promise of what is to come if you prove yourself tantalizing enough.

His hands pull the covers down to pool around your hips, gooseflesh pin-pricking your skin at the sudden change in temperature. Bokuto loves watching your body react, each inch of your seized up and stone cold, and he full-well intends to satiate your need for warmth. He kisses the bone of your right hip, nose trailing along the swell of your belly until he kisses the hollow of your navel, a gentle sound resonating in the soft space between your soul and his, “I’m right here, baby doll.”

You pout, forcing yourself to crack one eyelid open so you can half-glower down at him, even though the look has no malice or intent behind it. Bokuto pushes himself upward to snag your lower lip between the bite of his teeth, playfully nipping at the fullness of your skin. The closeness allows you the opportunity to slip your boneless arms around his neck, arching your back upward until your chests are flush with one another. You leech from his heat, begging to be enraptured by his body and stolen by his affections.

Bokuto’s body complies, his blood coursing scorching tendrils through his veins, making his skin sear against yours, a stark contrast to the coolness of your own. He appreciates you for a moment, eyes drinking you in, the way that your body pebbles beneath him, cool and compliant, awaiting his touch. He knows that he has you underneath his thumb, that he could have his way with you in any version of this that he wanted. He has your trust entirely, which is why when he leans down to kiss you square on the mouth, your frame molds to his own, and he is not sure where he ends and you begin.

The melding of your mouths has yet to cease his heartbeat from quickening, time after time. He does not grow weary of your tongue and gums beneath his own muscle, licking at the seam of your lips so he can devour you whole. You welcome him, of course, prying your teeth open so you can feel his heat extend to your own skin even further than before.

Your fingertips wind into his hair, tugging at the dark roots before you allow one palm to stray, trailing down over his shoulder. Bokuto is clad in a tank top, indicative of his morning workout, but it is thin enough that you can feel the corded muscle underneath the fabric, and you take full advantage of the diaphanous clothing to explore the range of his back and shoulders. The tactile difference between his shirt and his tresses forces you to focus on something, allowing you to keep your mind on this plane of existence rather than ascending to another. You moan when you feel the curve of his tongue prodding against your lips again, your knees trying to break free from the pinned position he has you in so you can bare yourself entirely to him.

Bokuto reaches upward to brush his knuckles along your jawline, abandoning your ribs for something closer to your heart. He is smirking against your mouth as he pulls away before he can become too enraptured in your taste and familiarity, “I’ve already had my morning jog and you’re still in bed, babe. I should punish you for being so lazy.”

Your backside throbs at the mention of punishment, still raw and angry from the memory of the long night that has hardly even passed, given the position of the sun outside the window. You feel the warmth of the rays trickling through the shades, golden light creating a tanned hue on Bokuto’s bare skin. You trace the thin beams that have formed shadows against his neck and shoulders, your fingertip finding his jugular and pressing down firmly to feel his pulse shudder under your touch.

The both of you flush with a lustful heat, your ears and nose changing color in tandem with one another. Bokuto can feel you trembling, knows that your mind has wandered to what his hands that are currently gentle and soft can truly do. He nudges his cheek against yours to feel the warmth of your embarrassment collecting there, the shade of your skin different now.

“You have the weekend off, no practice,” your hands flex against the back of his head and his shoulder, “and you seriously don’t want to just stay in bed? You’re always talking about how you don’t get enough sleep!”

Bokuto runs his hands over your torso, circling your waist with his expansive palms, sending a trail of blazing heat in his wake as he maps out the contours of your abdomen. He is laughing again, shaking his head so those silver tendrils fall in his face, obscuring you from his vision, “I guess you are pretty tired, huh? I wore you out last night.”

“Bo!” You reach up to smack his arm, gripping onto his bicep afterward. Your entire body sings with the remembrance of the way he folded you practically in half, his fingerprints ghosting against your skin now in the form of bruises, a tangible memory of his impressive brute strength.

He scrunches his nose as he grapples your forearm, circling his fingers around your wrist so he can pull your hand towards his face, kissing the innermost part of your arm as if he were planting a garden with the ministrations. His lips find your pulse point and he runs his nose along the grain of your arm, running the tip of it up to your wrist before he cracks his eyelids open to fixate onto you with that warm, golden gaze.

“What, did’ya already forget? Do you need a reminder?” Bokuto slips one palm underneath your thigh to grip the globe of your backside, squeezing the flesh harshly. It stings on impact, your hips canting forward to meet his with uncontrollable fervor. You have to bite down on your tongue to keep a moan from slipping between your teeth, the salacious feel of his hand against your ass doing little to quell the fire bubbling up within your belly.

“Koutarou, you little shit,” you’re growling out the syllables under your breath but he knows you have no follow-through, there will be no promise of anger or punishment. Another garbled set of words tries to flee from your tongue but you cannot focus on them because your mouth is otherwise occupied.

Bokuto hitches your leg upward, the sheet falling down from your knee so your thigh is now bared to him. He shivers at the sudden change in texture, from silken fabric to supple skin. It’s difficult for him to concentrate on your mouth when your leg is brushing against his hip in such a way that drives his mind mad. And yet, somehow he finds a way, silver lashes brushing against the tops of his cheeks as he closes his eyes, narrowing his focus to the taste of your tongue and the curve of your gums. He is enraptured by you, nothing but a heap of broken bones begging to be pieced back together at the mercy of your hands.

And you oblige him, just as you always do. Your fingerprints are the key to his soul, pressing firmly against his skin and opening him like no other.

You search him, pulling out those groans of ecstasy and aborted thrusts as his hips stutter against your waistline. Bokuto’s mouth draws downward, creating a line of open-mouthed kisses that leave behind a damp trail, as if it were gasoline, clear and slick along your skin. You beg him for the match as you moan his name, your skin matching his in heat now that he has engulfed you like a flame, threatening to light your whole body to a raging fire if you let him linger long enough.

“Maybe you’re right,” he gasps against your jugular, practically wanton in nature as he hovers over your body.

Leaning back, Bokuto reaches for your leg, tugging your calf upward so your ankle rests against his shoulder. He angles his head so he can kiss the bone there, a thin layer of skin keeping your barest parts from him. He chuckles and the warmth of his laughter spreads through your limbs like a raging bonfire, searing just beneath the surface.

He turns so he can look you in the eyes, “Maybe I will come back to bed.”

The smile that graces your lips makes it all worth it.

Bokuto allows you to strip his torso of the offensive article of clothing, the fabric added to the pool of your clothes on the floor beside the bed. Your hands waste no time in mapping out his torso, pectorals and oblique muscles receiving extra dotes of attention. He nips at your collarbones, admonishing you from allowing him to continue to strip down so the both of you are evenly matched, full patches of skin on display so neither of you can hide from one another.

Even bare, his frame no longer hindered by bulky clothes, Bokuto still proves to be a massive man. Bulging muscles and thick bones that pave the way for his thick extremities and loitering weight. When his knees dip into the mattress, you find yourself rolling towards them, the slope of the bed changed with his added weight. You giggle as you try to hold yourself upright, eyes squinting shut when he reaches across the space between your bodies to grip your rib cage. His hold on you is gentle but firm, keeping you in place without bruising you.

The two of you settle into one another as if you’ve been doing this your whole lives, falling into a position that leaves the both of you comfortable and close. Your head is tucked beneath his neck, your chin on his collarbone as you lie still, his breath warm as it dithers into the crown of your hair, your mouth open as you breath against his throat. The tanned flesh sprouts goosebumps and you can’t help the laughter that piques your voice, your nose nuzzling his jugular as his apple bobs when he tries to breathe.

“C’mere,” he murmurs against your forehead, kissing you shortly after the word is spoken. Bokuto’s palm runs down your side, gentle as he hooks his three middle-most fingers around the curve of your thigh, “you feel so good, baby, so warm and soft.”

You roll your eyes and lean back to look up at him, “Just what every woman wants to hear, Bo, that I’m soft.”

“What the hell is wrong with that?!” Bokuto gently bumps his forehead into yours, successfully hitching your leg up over his thigh so your waists are now flush with one another. You hook your ankle around the backside of his thigh reluctantly, narrowing your line of sight until your irises are but slits hidden behind half-hooded lids.

He scoffs, “I swear, you find something wrong with everything I say, woman.”

There is no true frustration behind his words, but you tilt your head upward to kiss him anyways. Your affections usually bring about some form of amnesia, as Bokuto is too enticed by the taste of your tongue to remember you admonishing him only moments prior. His fingers press harder against the muscle of your leg, trailing down so he can trace the dip of your calf and ankle, like he might be mapping out your anatomy so he could memorize it for later.

“I’ve missed you,” you manage when you pull away from him, ducking your head so your forehead bumps his chin. Your whole face is coated in an embarrassed heat, eyes beginning to water at the memory of too many nights spent alone in this bed while he travels the world to play out his dreams on the court.

Bokuto can feel the shift in your demeanor, and he pulls you closer to him on instincts alone. Your chest presses into him and you swear your heartbeats are in time with one another, the slow rhythm like a song that plays for only each other to hear. His hands try to find any part of you that he can touch, your skin calling to him in the quiet of your bedroom, begging to be praised and flourished with affections. He pulls the sheet up to your waists, allowing you some form of privacy despite it only being the two of you who live in between these walls.

“I think about you every day,” he murmurs against the shell of your ear, his voice an octave lower than usual. Your chest tightens at the sound of his downcast tone, and you know that those usually bright, amber eyes have lost their golden hue, turning a sad, sallow shade in favor of the standard color. Bokuto nudges his nose over your cheek, sporadic kisses pressed against your skin as he speaks, “I always go back to the hotel room, thinking you’re going to be there by some stupid accident. I look forward to your good morning texts and every time I get to call you, it’s like it’s just you and me, alone in the world. Does that make sense?”

You have tears streaming down your cheeks, but he was too wrapped up in his own range of emotions to notice. Once he recognizes the dampness plaguing his collarbones has nothing to do with his own natural sweat production, Bokuto is tilting your head up with a knuckle underneath your jaw, his thumb gently pinching your chin, “Hey, sweetheart, wh-did I say something wrong? I swear, I’m so fucking stupid with words, I just-”

His rambling musings are cut short by your lips surging forward, swallowing him whole with a simple gasping moan. You dig your nails into his body, sinking into whatever patch of skin is closest. You need this tactile comfort, to remind yourself to come down from this high that he has created by stringing together a few simple syllables.

“I love you,” your voice is haggard and slow, but it does not matter, not in this moment, “I love you, Bo.”

The palms of his hands sear into your shoulders as he runs the heels of them along the curve of your body. He rubs up and down, creating a friction that warns you that you might catch fire if he does not show you distance. You welcome the heat, welcome the burn, because the ache that it leaves behind when he is gone is so much more intense than if he were to keep you at bay. You look up at him, eyes wide and begging for some form of solace in his gaze, “And I’m proud of you, for doing this. Pursuing your dreams.”

“Nah, baby doll,” Bokuto pushes your hair from your face, fingertips lingering on your cheek, held there by some existential force that he cannot fathom, “you’re my dream, yeah? S’all you.”

He angles your head upward again, tilting his wrist as he cups your face, kissing you gently for what feels like hours on end. Your mind slips into a sort of haze, gentle colors passing behind your lids as he prods and tugs at your lips. You feel euphoric, champagne bubbles drifting upwards from your stomach, effervescent and unrelenting. He is a high you would dare to chase for the rest of your life, even if he sits just out of reach. You don’t mind getting drunk off of his love if it leaves you with this overwhelming sense of adoration that warms you from the inside out, leaving your fingertips buzzing with the promise of what is to come next always being better than what has come before.

“Volleyball isn’t forever,” he whispers like he does not want it to come true, but knows it must despite his reluctance, “but you? I’ve got you for life.”

You cannot help the tears that swim down your cheeks, creating glittering rivulets of saltine droplets, sticking into your hair and onto the pillowcase. Bokuto chuckles as he swipes at the sticky skin, brushing away any evidence of your emotions. You want to refute him, to tell him that he can make volleyball something he could do forever if he just worked hard enough. But you know that isn’t true – he is but a mortal, despite your thoughts otherwise, and mortals break, they wither into nothingness. He can not spike like a twenty-something year-old athlete forever, and even if he chooses to coach, it may never bring about the fulfillment that the sound of squeaking his sneakers on a court can.

Bokuto is gentle as he kisses you, a simmering heat spreading from your lips to your toes the longer he stays connected to you at the mouth. His hands fawn all over you, searching each dip and cord of muscle and bone and skin as he does so, mapping out your frame like he has not done this a dozen times and will not continue to do it for the rest of his days.

The hoarse phrase of, “I love you,” is whimpered into the spaces between your teeth, where your soul and his collide. Your heart rolls from within the cage of your ribs, knowing full-well that if it were possible, if you were to look hard enough there would be a bruised outline against your skin from where the organ were beating so quickly that it might look as if it were trying to escape.

As if sensing your thoughts, Bokuto’s hand against your cheek drifts downward, ghosting over your throat before resting against the left side of your chest. His thumb brushes along the swell of your breast, but you know the action is far from sensual in nature, the heel of his palm digging in just enough so he can feel the thumping of your heart underneath your skin and bones. He breathes in slowly as the organ thuds under his touch, taking you in moment by moment, unwilling to miss even the slightest movement or sound.

Your hands find his cheeks, holding his jaw gently in your hands as your lips volley back and forth, soft, audible smacking echoing from your mouths as you kiss. The way his thigh slides between your knees has you clenching around him, your own body trying to accommodate the sizable appendage as he slots himself closer to you.

Bokuto has always been desperate for your affections, from the beginning of your relationship to now, nothing has changed. He wants to be as close to you as possible, practically suffocating you with his proximity and even though you feel like you’re drowning within his hold, you would never come up for air again if it meant being with him. There is little space between you now, bodies melded together underneath the thin sheet, warmed by the golden rays of sunlight beaming through the window. You wonder how ethereal this must look – sunshine on your skin, golden hour in your hair. You two must be the picture of intimacy, wound together and unable to be separated, two bodies become one in the moment of heightened grace and poise.

“Bo,” you manage to breathe his name as he relinquishes your mouth in favor of your throat. Your hands latch onto his shoulders when he leans in closer, rolling his body upwards against you. The hard wall of muscle that ripples when he moves is enough to bring any woman to her knees, let alone one so weak for him such as you.

He lands a kiss to your collarbone before angling his head so he can look you in the eyes, “Yeah, babe?”

You don’t want the tears to fall, but you can’t help it with the way your eyes are watering and when you blink, a fresh set of salted pearly drops are dripping down onto his skin , “Will you hold me?”

Bokuto is wrapping you up into the tightest embrace you think you could handle before you can wheeze out your final syllable. You are warm all over, completely wracked in heat as he holds you closely, your head against his chest so you can count out his heartbeats until your own rhythm has settled. You curl your arms around his shoulders until your palms are flat against his contoured muscles, finding solace in the burning planes of skin there, his body heated from a mixture of lust and adoration that fuels his very being when he is closest to you.

“Of course, baby,” Bokuto is ever the sturdy one, keeping you sane despite your attempts to turn otherwise. He kisses the crown of your head as if he were planting a flower bed, gentle petal-like pecks along each lock of your hair. A light, airy string of laughter is huffed along your forehead, an open-mouthed kiss placed soon after, “I’ve got you, I’ll take care of you. Don’t you worry about a thing.”

You believe him, because Bokuto has always been there to piece you back together when you want to fall apart, crumbling to the ground like shattered and tattered pieces of the person that you are. His strength is unparalleled, and you do not wish to search for anyone who might come close to him because not only would it be futile, but it would be a waste of your time.

After all, how could you ever find someone who so perfectly fits into the spaces between you like he does?

#bokuto x reader #bokuto koutarou x reader #bokuto imagine #bokuto fanfic #bokuto x you #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #morgan writes hq #my writing #koutarou x reader #haikyuucreations

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hotchnisslovechild · 3 years ago

Text

On the Sidelines

Chapter One

Holly and Marvyn meet and have a few beers.

A/N: i've recently fallen in love with the show big shot and grown quite attached to the relationship between holly and marvyn. i'll be needing something to hold me over as i wait for season 2 to be announced and released *fingers crossed*, so i thought i'd write a little something about these two. i’m not sure if any of you on here watch the show at all, but i feel like posting this here anyway. i recommend binging the first season of the show on disney+ :)

Pairing: Marvyn Korn/Holly Barrett (Big Shot) Rating: T Word Count: 2,302 AO3 Link

Today is the day. The day Holly gets to meet her new coaching partner and the team meets their new head coach. Changing into her practice clothes, something resembling both anxiety and excitement burrows itself in Holly’s nerves. Her thoughts run wild as she anticipates meeting the great Coach Marvyn Korn for the first time.

Holly would be lying if she said she didn’t have a little crush on Coach Korn. Of course, she admired his great looks, but she found his coaching to be just as fascinating, if not more. Watching him coach was electrifying. He’s animated, excited, always moving around, unable to sit still for a single play. He saw the court and everything happening all at once, managing his players like a brilliant conductor of an orchestra. She learned a lot from him by studying his coaching methods at Wisconsin from the comfort of her living room couch. He unknowingly taught her about defensive schemes and rotations, end-of-game scenarios, the importance of teaching your players every detail of the game and correcting their mistakes so they can improve. He undoubtedly loved the game and coaching it. His enthusiasm for the sport was infectious to his team in every game, and it paid off. That was until he threw it all away. And ended up here, at an all-girls private high school in California.

Taking a deep breath, the assistant coach walks into her office, her excited nerves to make a good impression mingling with her eagerness to get the season started with a new coach. After tapping Shave and a Haircut on the window separating her office from Marvyn’s, she lets herself in, extending a hand to greet him.

“Holly Barrett, Assistant Coach,” she greets with an enthusiastic smile, borderline out of breath from the anticipation of finally meeting him. She studies him. His looks. His demeanor. He looks better than he did on TV — if that’s even possible. She finds his dark features beguiling. And those eyes. She could get lost in those light-colored eyes. There’s a lack of actual light in them, however. He seems unenthused, maybe a bit on edge. But she shrugs it off, attributing the lack of energy to nervousness.

“Marvyn Korn,” he says, shaking her outstretched hand, holding on to it a bit longer than necessary, caught off guard by the bright energy of the woman standing before him. She’s the first person at this school to greet him in a way that resembles any sort of kindness. No one at Westbrook wants him there. Hell, he doesn’t even want to be there. This is just one step towards getting back to college ball.

“It’s a great honor, Coach,” she says, letting go of his hand and walking towards the front of his desk, “I’m a big fan. You have no idea,” she admits, trying her hardest not to come across as creepy or weird. They are going to be working together pretty closely for the next few months, so she wants to start things off right with him, not scare him away or freak him out. She’s sure he’s already a bit freaked out being transplanted into an all-girls high school after coaching college men for so many years, and she’s not caught off guard when he then asks her for advice on coaching girls.

“Well, I'm tempted to say just treat 'em like the boys,” she starts, debating whether or not she wants to continue that thought. It’s probably not the best idea to offend the head coach on his first day on the job.

“But?” he pushes.

“You didn't treat the boys so well,” she answers matter-of-factly.

“Do you have any advice that might actually be helpful?”

She tells him that the girls on this Westbrook team are future leaders who are anxious to get started and can be a bit much. “Don’t pretend, they’ll see right through it,” she adds finally. And I’ll see right through it she thinks. “Other than that… let’s go coach some basketball,” she says brightly.

Marvyn tries his best not to roll his eyes as he gets up from his chair and heads onto the court to meet the girls. He doesn’t want to be there. He doesn’t want to coach a bunch of rich high school girls. Everything about this gig is a demotion for him. From college to high school. From men to girls. His disregard for this job is anything but hidden as he walks out of his office, dreading the official start of his role as Head Basketball Coach at Westbrook.

Holly follows closely behind him, excited and ready for a fresh start with a new coach to work with. Their previous coach had been nothing short of insufferable, constantly telling Holly she had no say in the team, diminishing her role as a coach, making it clear she was not in charge. Despite his harshness towards Holly, he coddled the girls on the team, always telling them what they wanted to hear. The lack of discipline never got the team anywhere, but Holly bit her tongue, knowing that whatever she had to say didn’t matter to her then-colleague. Marvyn gives her a sliver of hope for the team’s future and hers. She knows Marvyn will run things differently, and she hopes that this change will be a good change.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

After one practice and not even one drink into their casual rendezvous at a sports bar, Holly concludes that Marvyn certainly is different from their previous coach, but she’s hesitant to consider the change a positive one. He takes the game too seriously, prioritizes the end goal of winning and success over the feelings of the girls on the team. To him, they are just pawns in his own lifelong game of basketball. They are X’s and O’s, not individuals worthy of being treated with respect. He practically committed every sin of working with teens in the book. He demeaned them, embarrassed them, and disrespected them all in the span of one practice.

“My life is basketball,” he begins, “Everyone in my life are basketball players. A good coach can't be successful if he becomes friends with his players.”

“What about after work?”

“There is no after work. Not if you wanna win. There's diagramming plays, there's watching tapes, the recruiting, but there's no after work.”

Holly lets out a breath. His version of reality is nearly incomprehensible to her. Never in her life has she met someone more polarizing and stuck in his way than this man in a tracksuit sitting in the booth with her. She almost feels sorry for him. He doesn’t have any friends, and he spends all of his time thinking about basketball and how to make his team better.

“I guess I don't have to ask what happened to your marriage,” Holly says boldly, venturing into the untouched territory of his personal life as she takes a sip of her beer.

“Nope. What happened to yours?” he returns. He checked her out in the teacher portal the day before. He’s all about preparation, and that does not exclude doing some research on his assistant coach.

Her eyes grow wide. How the hell did he know I was previously married? She thinks to herself. “None of your business,” she retorts, sidestepping his question as she shifts uncomfortably in her seat, not wanting to air out her dirty laundry in front of her colleague, especially considering they just met some few hours ago.

“It is my business. Add to that, you opened the door because you asked about my marriage.” She scoffs in response, now regretting bringing up the topic of failed marriages.

Marvyn opens up about his divorce first, telling her that his wife left him, which Holly deduces was because Marvyn is such a workaholic. “She figured that she deserved more, that she could do better. So she did,” Marvyn explains. “Your turn.”

“Same,” she utters, wanting nothing to do with this conversation any longer, “He realized he could do better.”

“Why?” He pushes once more, his stubbornness starting to set Holly’s nerves on fire.

“None of your business,” she says, her voice laced with more attitude than she intended.

“If it speaks to your character, it is my business.”

Looking down at her lap, Holly lets out a quick breath. She has her back up again the door of the closet, refusing to expose the skeletons locked in there. Her marital past is not something she’s particularly proud of or that she looks back on with much joy. It’s hard to talk about without feeling embarrassed, feeling ashamed that she had an affair with a man named Matt, who happened to be her husband’s best friend.

The neglect from her husband eventually pushed her over the edge to do what she would never forgive herself for. The person who was supposed to love her the most in this world stopping caring. She was left unfulfilled and disconnected from the man she once loved. He was absent. Even when he was there, he wasn’t actually there. They didn’t even bother to fight anymore. They simply coexisted in a house that no longer felt like home.

She really wasn’t thinking at all when it happened the first time. She had an itch to scratch, and Matt was there.

“I cheated on him,” Holly discloses finally, “I had an affair. Worst thing a spouse can do, I suppose. Short of neglect, maybe,” she explains, purposefully vague, hoping he doesn’t interrogate her further.

“Are you saying my betrayal was worse?” he asks, suddenly feeling defensive.

“I’m saying his was worse. But yeah, yours too, I guess, if that's what you're guilty of.” The weight of her words hangs in the air between them. He watches as she shifts once more in her seat, visibly uncomfortable with the level of openness of the conversation.

Holly sighs. “Wow. This is a really nice ‘How do you do? Let's get a beer’,” she says with a subtle bite of sarcasm, avoiding his gaze and reaching for her beer.

“This isn't a ‘How do you do? Let's get a beer’. You have an agenda.” She rolls her eyes at his accusation, although there is some truth to it. She does have something she wants to talk to him about. “You clearly have an agenda, so get to it.”

“You are profoundly unlikable. You know that, right?” She doesn’t even try to hide the sourness of her tone.

“You're just scratching the surface. If you have something to say to me, please say it. 'Cause I'd like to get back and work on the Laguna game.”

God, he’s so fucking persistent. “Okay.” She set aside her beer, leaning in towards him. “Marvyn, these are high school girls we are working with. I know your tried-and-tested ways of coaching got you far at the collegiate level, but these girls can’t be treated like they are men in college.”

“And why not?” Her point evidently went right over his head.

“Because they are different. They don’t handle criticism like those men do. They take things personal. They won’t be responsive to your derogatory, hotheaded way of giving feedback or your ‘my way or the highway’ mentality. These girls need to be inspired and supported, not embarrassed and disrespected. These girls don’t just kiss the ring. If they aren’t respected, they are going to try to get the upper hand. And they are quite good at it.”

“They’re not gonna get the upper hand with me,” he counters.

“Look at how scared of this you are.” She can’t understand how it’s so hard to just receive these girls as the complex people they are. This team won’t get anywhere if he doesn’t let go of all his unreasonable preconceptions and connect with these girls. He’s so stuck in this mindset that the team is beneath his abilities that he doesn’t realize he could actually learn something from these girls. And he shouldn’t be afraid of that. Holly is always learning new things from her students and players. When is Marvyn going to get it through his head that he can learn from these girls just as much as they can learn from him? It’s a two-way street.

“This is another thing. You don’t know me,” he snaps defensively, “so don’t pretend that you know me.”

“I don’t want to know you,” she says coolly, “I just want what’s best for the team,” she assures him, feigning sincerity, telling him exactly what he wants to hear whether it’s what she wants to say or not.

“Yeah.” He nods his head, thinking she’s finally seeing things from his point of view.

“Is that a good answer?” she asks as she raises her eyebrows, revealing the insincerity of her previous words. His face drops, catching on to her little game. She’s irritatingly clever.

The conversation comes to a quick end, interrupted by the other patrons of the bar cheering and applauding, celebrating a touchdown in the football game playing on all of the TVs.

They find themselves back in that same booth at the same sports bar the next night. As they sip on their beers, Marvyn expresses his doubts about coaching this team, telling Holly that he just doesn’t think he can do it.

“What else?” he asks after bringing up everything that’s happened with the girls in just his two first days, speaking so frantically Holly could hardly keep up. “What the hell else?” His apparent distress over coaching a bunch of high school girls makes her laugh. You would think the world was coming to an end based on how he was acting.

“I know. You're not prepared. Welcome to high school,” she quips.

“I- I had no idea what I was in for.”

Clearly.

#my first shot at a multichapter fic?#kind of scared #hopefully i keep it up #i strongly recommend watching this show #it's strangely addicting #gotta be laced w something #big shot #big shot on disney+#harvyn #harvyn fic #holly barrett #marvyn korn #disney+#big shot series #holly and marvyn #my fics #on the sidelines

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malamiteltd · 3 years ago

Text

Decided to post something here, just to see how it goes. I haven’t really used Tumblr much even though I put an account together. This feels a bit random...

SKETCH TUCKER'S MOVES LET'S GO

(Pretty much prefix each of these moves with "Tokaru-")

1. BEAM

The first ability Sketch stumbled upon before he even realized what he was, it's considered a base-level move. Summoning power to his "third eye," it's released as a quick burst, with just enough concentration to give it a straight trajectory. It can travel a good distance, but its spontaneous nature leaves damage output a little lacking. Still, it's a go-to for a quick ranged counterstrike. His wife Heather would make this the move she'd develop further in strength.

2. BUSTER

One of Sketch's signature moves, the Buster concentrates his power into a condensed sphere, which is then fired at the intended target; when it makes contact with something or someone, the Buster explodes, making it one of his most powerful moves. With a little extra focus, he can use psychokinesis to steer the Buster's trajectory, but that makes him more prone to surprise attacks as he's less focused on other happenings. Heather made this skill her go-to quick move, opting to fire small Busters rapidly instead of creating one large one, but she has a very strong alternative version that's quite devastating. But that's for some other time, I think.

3. KINESIS

As mentioned earlier, Sketch (and the rest of his kind) have a degree of psychic ability, including psychokinesis. This move is summoned kinda like the Buster, except instead of a concentrated energy ball, he summons a spark. Whatever the spark hits, Sketch can then manipulate with constant focus; with greater focus, he can practice more intricate control over more complicated things, especially people. More often than not, it's good for picking up and throwing heavy stuff, or disabling certain threats.

4. BARRIER

Sketch's power isn't just used for offense. He can quickly create a spherical field of energy to nullify or at least weaken threats -- how well it works is somewhat dependent on the level of concentration used for it. The tradeoff of this ability is, naturally, that Sketch cannot attack while using this move, so once he feels ready to strike, the Barrier has to be taken down. He has to be confident that the time is right to do so, while at the same time not exhausting all his energy on defense.

5. SABER

Another of Sketch's signature moves, and one of the only moves Heather hasn't been able to master. It's summoned like the Buster, but the energy ball is distorted to create a point, and psychokinesis is used to "wield it" -- it's typically situated near the hand to simulate it being held, but it is free-floating, and with added focus can swing on its own without physical motion. The Saber itself is quite damaging, though its effect is moreso a powerful "burn" than a proper cut. That said, it's still technically Sketch's most powerful ability, and despite the restricted range it is more than capable of bringing down the toughest of customers.

6. STRIKER

This is a move that Sketch's granddad Dan Tucker came up with, but after seeing the move in action Sketch managed to figure out how to do it very quickly. The move summons energy towards the hands and/or feet, and when a physical attack is performed, the energy is flung out like a wave. It doesn't travel as far as the Buster or Beam, but it's enough to extend the range of damage. Naturally, though, it's strongest when it's done WITH physical contact damage, adding extra oomph to punches and kicks when readied.

----

So yeah, I just felt like putting this infodump somewhere. Don't know how often I'd do this, but hey... there's a chance this could be a place I'd visit more often in the future. Hopefully if I do, I'll have my thoughts assembled better than this. Preferably less out-of-the-blue and erratic.

-- Malamite Ltd.

#tokaru #sketch tucker #the utopian legend #malamite ltd

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earnestly-endlessly · 4 years ago

Note

Hi love! Merry Christmas! I hope you are having an amazing Christmas!

I was wondering if as a Christmas gift you could make a cherik rec of enemies to lovers and/or friends to lovers?

🎅🏻🎄✨

A very, very belated Christmas to you. I had a very nice (though a bit busy) Christmas. I’m so sorry that this took me this long to answer but I took extra care to make this list. There are a LOT of great fics out there with both of those themes. I’m sure that I’ve missed some excellent ones but I do have quite an extensive list for you. I hope you enjoy!!

Enemies/Rivals to Lovers

Wasteland – FuryRed

Summary: After Shaw succeeded in his plan to unleash nuclear war, Erik could only watch in horror as the world completely fell apart. Atom bombs. Sentinels roaming the country. Mutants being rounded up and forced into death camps. These were dark days, indeed.

Countless lives were lost in the war that followed, until the remaining mutants and humans scattered across the land- each just waiting for an opportunity to eliminate the other side.

Erik was confident that the Brotherhood would emerge victorious, but what he hadn’t counted on was the human resistance acquiring a mutant as their leader- a telepath, who insisted that humanity and mutantkind could one day live in peace…

Few experience (what you really are) – flightingflame

Summary: Magneto despises the humans that experiment on and enslave his kind. Recaptured after escaping the lab where he spent his youth, he finds himself bought by a rich man whose household is full of mutants. But Charles is keeping secrets of his own, and while he’s a dangerous man, he’s a powerful one to have on your side.

Sink or Swim – endingthemes

Summary: Erik is a struggling single dad of three kids with a burning hatred for Sebastian Shaw, the man who wronged him years ago. He’s tried to move on with his life, but a run-in with Shaw’s rude, spoiled omega, Charles, drags up old anger.

When Charles ends up in the hospital after an accident, Erik goes to confront him only to find that Charles has amnesia. In the confusion, Charles mistakenly assumes that Erik is his mate.

Erik knows he should clear up the misunderstanding, but how can he pass up this perfect chance for a little revenge?

(An Overboard AU)

The Skin Outside Is Taking You For A Ride – blarfkey

Summary: The fights between Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr are legendary, and after four years Principal McTaggart is sick of it. After their most recent screaming match in debate club, Principal McTaggart gives Erik and Charles an ultimatum: they must help Raven work on the Senior play and the next fight that breaks out between them will result in expulsion.

Forced to be civil for the first time in their lives, Erik and Charles must reconcile their tumultuous rivalry with the new versions of each other they slowly discover.

The Burdens We Long to Carry – arcapelago (arcanewinter)

Summary: When mutant-supporter and ally President Kennedy is assassinated and all pro-mutant progress is dismantled, Charles is no longer so confident that he's on the right side, and extends his hand to Erik after a year of animosity. They settle tentatively into their old partnership, but not everything is the same as it was--and not everything can be. When Hank develops a metal frame to move the lower half of Charles' body for him if he wants it, Erik offers the use of his mind and his ability in order to make it work. Both find out what they're willing to do for each other, and neither knows if it'll be enough to keep them together.

Robbers – dsrobertson

Summary: 1933. Bank robber AU.

The Bureau of Investigation are after Public Enemy Number Two, bank robber Erik Lehnsherr. Charles Xavier is fiancé to Special Agent Moira MacTaggart. A closet homosexual, Charles visits the Manhattan pansy club scene and meets Max Eisenhardt. Only as time goes on, Max Eisenhardt turns out to be Erik Lehnsherr. Public Enemy Number Two.

Charles learns exactly what happens when you accidentally fall in love with a male bank robber in 1930s America.

Warning: Bring your tissues for this one.

Enemies With Benefits – bettysofia

Summary: Casual sex with your sworn enemy gets tricky once feelings get involved.

For the Roses – Nausicaa (ignusphoenicis)

Summary: After an accident left him paralyzed below the waist, former elite track star Charles Xavier needs a new hobby. His longtime rival, the German runner Erik Lehnsherr, might just be that hobby.

Note: Unfinished but worth a read.

Friends to Lovers

Best-laid plans – ikeracity

Summary: Charles decides that the best way to confess his feelings to his best friend is to surprise Erik at his apartment, naked, wearing nothing but a bow. It's perhaps one of Charles's worst ideas--or his best.

For The Record – endingthemes

Summary: As prominent figures in the mutant rights movement, activists Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr are pretty much household names. When a romance scandal between them breaks, their celebrity reaches new heights, and though the increased exposure is great, there’s a big problem -- the two of them are just friends.

Too bad no one believes them.

A Winter in New York – nextraordinaire

Summary: Charles and Erik have been childhood friends for as long as they can remember – Erik, living with his mother in Queens, and Charles in the big mansion in Westchester. For all, expect themselves, it was just natural progression that they'd end up together.

A series of ficlets from the same universe – can be read as separate and are out of chronological order.

Resolutions - Black_Betty

Summary: Charles ends the year with honesty and courage and by finally telling his best friend how he feels about him.

Or he would have, if Erik had bothered to show up.

Love Story – Sophia_Bee

Summary: Charles and Erik are best friends, until they're not. A love story in three parts.

In the Bleak Midwinter – keire_ke

Summary: It is not easy to find out, well into the second decade of the twenty-first century, that your mother arranged a marriage for you. It is even less easy to convince her that you have no interest in the very fertile Magda, she of the wide hips and lustrous auburn hair. Fortunately, with a good friend at his side over the holiday weekend, Erik is sure he will prevail.

Speech Making – phalangine

Summary: Modern Emma AU- Charles Xavier, accomplished matchmaker and headmaster of North America’s preeminent school for mutants, intends to add another notch to his belt: setting up his friend Moira. His oldest friend, Erik, has doubts about this plan.

Charles doesn’t share them.

Made To Be Broken – Yahtzee

Summary: Charles makes a New Year's Resolution:

“No more straight men,” Charles repeated as he began scrolling through the apartment directory for Emma’s name. “No more futility. No more pointless hoping and heartbreak. In 2013, I never want to hear the words ‘exception,’ ‘experimenting’ or ‘phase.’ If, God forbid, I hear ‘bicurious’ even once, I may take a hostage.”

Then he goes into the party, and Erik is there.

Math Reasons – pearl_o, pocky_slash

Summary: "Mom says Erik always knows what he wants, it just sometimes takes him a little while to actually realize it," Ruth said.

Charles fell in love with Erik the first night they met, the first week of freshman year. Two years of friendship, adventures, arguments, hijinks, secrets, and summer visits later, Erik is starting to catch up.

I ♥ NY (It’s My Friends I’m Not Sure Of) – oddegg

Summary: Erik is a single, successful man who likes quick sex with no strings attached. Then, he meets college professor Charles and it's love at first sight, at least for him. Charles, who heard of Erik's notorious ways, wants nothing to do with him besides being friends. Cue Erik bending over backwards to steal Charles' heart.

Love Medley – ikeracity

Summary: Charles and Erik have been friends and roommates for two years. They've also, coincidentally, been in love with each other for two years. Neither of them has ever had the courage to admit it to the other, but Erik's new friendship with Magda and an untimely accident forces them to confront their feelings once and for all.

A Road Trip to Pennsylvania – Aainiouu

Summary: For a year Charles has nurtured the biggest and most embarrassing crush known to man towards Erik. They are friends and roommates and when Erik asks Charles to accompany him to home on Thanksgiving of course Charles goes.

#cherik #cherik fic recs #fic recs #earnestly answers #asks

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dragonrajafanfiction · 3 years ago

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Genji Heavy Industries (Part 9) Majesty

Chisei simps come and get your FOOD Come and get your FOOD.

The female Deadpool is panting. Her tongue flops over her extended mandible like a dead thing. She lies on the floor unable to lift her head. Her hair lies around her face like a dark shaggy curtain. But still she reaches out and swats a red dot. She’d pursued this red thing through the hall, jealousy preventing her from letting any other curious ones from claiming her prize. And yet she still didn’t have it.

Her claw lands on the red dot and it appears on top of her hand. She tries again, still failing to capture the red dot.

But before she could let out a hiss of frustration, a gentle touch fell on her head. She didn’t notice the human walking up to her as she was focused on the red dot. Her muscles twitch but before she can turn around and strike at the attacker, the touch turns into a massage on her scalp.

MC, you remember how it felt to be gently and lovingly caressed like this. The Female Deadpool made a significant dent in the numbers of beasts in the room and you felt she deserved a small reward. Like you, she was born to be a killer and had no affection shown to her in life. So you figured affection would be a nice thing to feel in her last moments. She makes a little noise, almost like a whimper and her jaw drops as she stares, vision focusing beyond the red dot now.

You press the muzzle of the mercury core pistol against the back of her head and pull the trigger. For the deadpool, it was a flash of light and oblivion. The beast falls flat, the pattern of her black blood making a fountain shape that extends out from her head.

Your laughter fades back into a cold sort of boredom. “That was fun, while it lasted.”

You step over her body and shoot down at her hand, neatly severing the nearly foot long serrated sickle shaped claw. You pick it up.

Caesar strafed as he advanced, closing in on the shaded wall in the center of the hall, with Deadpool gathering on all sides. In their eyes, he and Zihang were like two dishes that were ascending to the table on their own. .A Deadpool approached Caesar from the side while Caesar's fire was focusing on the front. Caesar did not even turn his gaze. Chu Zihang dashed up with a bayonet and stabbed it. The Deadpool closed its hands to block. The gun went through its palm bone. Not only did not have a painful reaction but fiercely closed his hands to hold the gun’s muzzle. Chu Zihang leaned down and charged, forcing Deadpool back with his gun, when Caesar pulled out the Colt pistol that was etched with the words "Western Watch" from his waist.

Western Watch fired like a thunderstorm, large-caliber bullets landing accurately into the abdomen of the deadpool, and then they exploded. The splash of mercury inside the bullets was heated by gunpowder, and the air filled with mercury vapor. The scales of the monsters who were splashed by the mercury became pale and then fell off, and a greenish-white mercury scar appeared on their skin.

"Wow! The Japanese weaponry looks more useful than the Academy's mercury core bomb!" Caesar was quite surprised.

Chu Zihang nailed the Deadpool to a column with the enhanced crossbow through the hole Caesar punched through its abdomen. The mercury was eroding its body at high speed. The bayonet penetrated its chest, but it still hissed and lunged at Chu Zihang, letting the whole gun barrel pass through its chest until the barrel was covered with thick black blood. Chu Zihang pulled the bag on his shoulder, and a bundle of swords fell at his feet. He grabbed a hilt in his hand and stabbed straight through the chest to cut off the spine of the monster. The nervous system is the weak point. After the destruction of the spine, it was finally powerless and could only hang there. Chu Zihang sheathed the blade waist, then drew a shotgun and returned to stand back to back with Caesar.

He turns to you. “MC! Come closer!”

Although you felt fine on your own, military discipline was too ingrained for you not to immediately obey your Senior Brother.

As soon as you turn to hurry, you’re cut off by a tall man-shaped serpent. His coil surrounds you, a foot and a half high of pure muscle, intending to keep you from running away and corral you into his strike zone. But this stupid creature didn’t understand that you weren’t a rabbit to run away from a serpent.

In the story of Rikki-Tikki-Tavi, Rudyard Kipling explains, “If you read the old books of natural history you will find that they say that when the mongoose fights the snake and happens to get bitten, he runs off and eats some herb that cures him. That is not true. The victory is only a matter of the quickness of eye and quickness of foot, - the snake's blow against the mongoose's jump, - and, as no eye can follow the motion of a snake's head when it strikes, that makes things more amazing than any magic herb.”

The golden snake-like beast lunges at you and you jump to the side, landing on its massive coil while raising your gun. The strike brought the snake man’s head in line with the barrel just as you fired. But this all seemed to happen in an instant of time.

To observers, the snake lunged and you jumped at the same time as you shot. And then you kept shooting in quick succession. You couldn’t kill the beast with your puny pistol, but the power was enough to act like a punch or a kick and you used it that way, using bullets as a fist slamming into its jaw. It recovered, shaking the ringing from its head, but you weren’t in front of it.

Snk-snk-snk.

The claw of the dead female deadpool was sharp enough and hard enough not to need the assistance of mercury. With it, you severed the beast's cervical, thoracic and lumbar spine. The creature sat back on its coil but it could no longer move at all.

You hurry to Ceasar and Chu Zihang and they stand in front of you.

Caesar emptied the six mercury bursts in the Western Watch. The smoke of refined mercury filled the hall. The fire driven wind intensified the speed of the spread of smoke. The Deadpool instinctively feared this smoke, and, for a time, did not dare to approach you. Caesar took the opportunity to do suppression fire with submachine guns.

You approached the center of the hall step by step, hundreds of deadpool around you. Their baby-like cries echoed in all directions. Countless pale human faces emerged in the firelight. Some are old and some are young. Some faces have been distorted and deformed. Some faces can still remind people you may have met in the street passing by. There are shy teenagers and mature women, but when their skulls open to reveal thorny sharp teeth, they all turn into evil spirits.

"We're like rats breaking into a snake breeding ball with leather slingshots in our hands." Caesar discarded the Sten submachine gun in his hand and also drew his Winchester shotgun.

You glance up at him and smile. You hadn’t smiled this much since you met. You want to tell him to speak for himself. Caesar was trying to use strength and force to kill these beasts, but his strength and his force were barely enough. The best way to fight these creatures was with speed and with wits.

But military discipline in battle requires absolute reverence for authority. “Yes but you are the pretty blond rat, and Chu Zihang is the scary black rat and I’m the cute one.” You feel a slight pain in your chest. “I miss Lu Mingfei… He would have been a funny rat.”

“I’m sure he’s fine. Let’s just focus on getting out of here.” Caesar shakes his head in amazement at your response. Chu Zihang shoves one of the submachine guns in your hand and you scarcely resist pouting. You didn’t want it.

In the center of the hall, the strongest Deadpool is devouring the dead. It is more than twice the size of the other Deadpool. Since the beginning, It has not joined the attack on you. It is single-mindedly dealing with the meal in front of it, first vomiting out slime to lubricate the corpse, and then slowly devouring it with large audible gulps like a snake. It seems that the group has a hierarchy like a herd of animals. The strongest deadpool are like the head wolf dominating the freshest bloody food. Others dare not share food with it. Otherwise they might end up swallowed with their companions. It was closest to Caesar and looked like a middle-aged balding man. He may have been a middle-aged balding man in life, but no one could have imagined that he could have such a large body after dragonization. His bloated belly wriggled against the ground. His swollen head and neck jiggled as it moved.

It turned its head to the three of you with what appeared to be a smiling expression, saliva dripping down. This was not the first time a Deadpool had shown an expression that approximated a smile, and it looked like it was expressing joy at the sight of food. The group of Deadpool had driven you to the center of the hall to let the strongest Deadpool feed first.

This is why Chu Zihang had given you the machine gun. There was no way the claw you were using as a dagger could penetrate this boss-monster’s fatty layer. You tuck it into your belt.

Caesar’s Winchester shotgun spewed out a dense stream of sparks, and the middle-aged balding man version of Deadpool was blasted in the face. Its upper body tilted back as if broken. Its bloated belly is still sitting on the floor.

"Baldness and bloating like this is also something I do not like!" Caesar yelled.

“I was thinking more of the disgusting vomit and macrophagy but… sure yeah… Ew, a fatty.” You mutter.

The vast majority of people would have fainted in fear in the face of the Deadpool's slight smile, but it was facing the thugs out of Cassell College. Chu Zihang drew his Sten submachine gun and expressionlessly sent the dense bullets to punch a bloody hole in that Deadpool's snake belly. You frown at yourself. There was no point in mindlessly firing at such a bullet sponge.

The bloated death servitor slowly sat up, like a sleeping human bending down to get up. Its bloated belly squirmed and boiled inside, and its body grew taller. It was only a man tall when it moved with its belly against the ground, but now it had reared up and transformed into a three-meter-tall giant, not counting the tail coiled on the ground. The tiny human body on the magnificent snake looked so incongruous, like a pregnant mother mantis.

Chu Zihang takes two swords and slowly stretches his arms forward. There is no road ahead. This is your last battlefield. All the deadpool follow their chief and also "stand". Strong tails support the sturdy upper bodies as they rear up like cobras, their height ranging from two to three meters. All around you, these trembling snake bodies are like a fleshy forest.

“Whale.” You say to yourself. Only a long harpoon could penetrate all that flesh to get to the tender parts inside but you didn’t have anything like that and the way back to the weaponry room was completely cut off.

A black shadow descended like a diving eagle and landed along the back of the chief of the deadpool with the light of a clear blue blade! Chisei Gen brought his full force down onto his twinblades, Onimaru and Dojigiri, sank them in completely, almost to the hilt, and cut the chief of the beasts from the back of the neck along its spine in a long bloody line. He violently twisted his hands and a piece of vertebrae cracked. The monster deadpool’s entire spine collapsed section by section to the floor. Chisei landed in a crouch, then he spun, Onimaru in his right hand, slicing in a flat rotating swing parallel to the ground that cut off the deadpool’s tail. The huge body completely lost support, tilted and fell forward toward Chisei. Chisei dodged sideways, still cutting at the massive beast with twin swords.

Chisei Gen had your speed and wit, but he also had strength that you didn’t have. You stared, face blank. Your eyes following this gorgeous and effortless blade dance. You sigh, eyes wide. “Woah.”

The leader of the deadpool was dead before he hit the ground. It was breathtakingly beautiful to you and you shoved your machine gun back into Caesar’s carry bag without saying a word or even looking at him. You drew your knife and ran forward leaving the two men who had been your companions for weeks. It was as if you had suddenly switched sides in the middle of the fight!

Chisei was still wearing the clothes from the document room, though his trench coat was gone. His upright and muscular body is wrapped in a bloody torn dress shirt, black slacks and leather shoes. He turns that body as you approach and you see his face in profile. It was delicate and feminine, with skin that was not quite pale, just like Z’s. A dark drop of black blood makes a tear like trail down his face. His mouth is moving, teeth flashing slightly behind pale lips, speaking a chilling series of forbidden words. The winds change and stir his dark hair as his eyes slowly blaze gold. You stop and freeze in place. Chu Zihang and Caesar are still firing their guns but Chisei is no longer moving.

The field of the wind expanded slowly, seemingly gently, with a faint violet fluorescence at the borders. The Deadpool in the field prostrated themselves on the ground with fear and trembling. Their hands pressed spasmodically to the ground, black tears of blood flowing from their eyes.

Chu Zihang and Caesar were shocked. They couldn't feel any difference, but the group of deadpool seemed to be sensitized. They knelt down to Chisei, like a defeated general facing a victorious king. The field eventually covered the whole mural hall. Chisei walked into the group of monsters with the Dojigiri and Onimaru, waving his sword along the way to cut off the head of one deadpool after another, advancing like a lawn mower. Black fountains of blood burst from their necks. The effect of Gen Chisei’s Yanling is surprisingly to make the enemy willingly accept the killing.

He glanced back at you briefly and you find your wits again. It was if he were leading you. You bounced after him like a young wolf, joining in the bloodshed with your knife, stacking up bodies in his wake, like a young chick following the example of a mighty eagle parent.

"Shit! Is this mind control?" Caesar muttered.

"No, it's not mind control, look underneath the bodies of those monsters!" Chu Zihang said.

The marble floor is slowly cracking, which means there is an amazing weight pressing on the ground. What kind of weight can crack the marble floor? A few tons or a dozen tons? What does it feel like for bones to bear this super-gravity?

You understood that these beasts were not willingly allowing you to slit their throats, but they could not resist. Their weight increased dozens of times in an instant, so heavy that it was difficult to even lift their arms. If they didn’t lie down, their vertebrae would be crushed.

Speech Spirit - Majesty, serial number 91, belongs to that category of speech spirits that have surpassed the scope of human understanding.

It was a Speech Spirit much like your own.

#Dragon Raja #Gen Chisei #Chisei Gen #Yuan Zhisheng

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voltage-vixen · 4 years ago

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The Great Pumpkin Surprise

Fandom: Kissed by the Baddest Bidder Pairing: Eisuke x MC (Female) Notes: This fic was written for the server gift exchange in the Kings of Paradise discord, and my recipient was @eikouxd. I really hope you like this!

The gentle breeze was chilly on the crisp fall afternoon, and there was a bright mixture of orangish-red leaves that painted the ground. Decorative ghosts hung from the stripped trees in preparation for Halloween since the spooky holiday was nearly upon them. Today, MC had convinced her family to travel outside the bounds of the city to visit a farm known for their festive autumn attractions. Eito was quick to agree, and her husband Eisuke voiced how amusing this trip would probably be for him if he did accompany them.

A few hours later they were deep into one of the rural suburbs, with a smirking Eisuke and a giddy MC bearing witness of a rare moment where Eito was racing around the farm and acting like a child his age would be expected to act. MC typically would fret over Eito being in such a rush to grow up, but today watching him radiate in childlike innocence while he lit up at the sights warmed her heart. It wasn’t often the three of them were able to escape from their daily routine given the demands of Eisuke’s work schedule, and these occasions were something she treasured when they presented themselves. Well, the three of them and…..

“Eito, come take a look at this gourd!” Ota cried out, holding up the large disfigured fruit for the boy to see. “Doesn’t it remind you of Baba’s face?”“Ota!”

Baba pouted, feigning annoyance by dramatically crossing his arms over the front of his chest. “How cruel of you! I hardly look a day over twenty! I’m sure everyone here would feel inclined to agree.” Glancing around, the thief’s gaze locked onto Soryu’s, who also happened to be standing nearby. “Sor, don’t you think I have an eternally youthful looking face?”

The mobster rolled his eyes and uttered a loud sigh for once again being dragged into the childish antics of the group. “I don’t know anything about that stuff. Stop trying to get me involved in your shenanigans.”

“You’re pretty uptight for a criminal, aren’t you now?” Mamoru muttered under his breath. Lighting his cigarette, he surveyed the food and beverage stalls up by the entrance. “Do they sell booze at this joint? I need something to help me get through this day that I was coerced into spending with you lot.”

“Ugh, must you really insist on smoking that here?” Shuichi scolded, massaging his temples at the headache he felt oncoming. Seeing Luke nearby, he barked at the spaced-out doctor next to him. “Luke, you’re a medical professional. Inform him at once how neglectful of his health he’s being by smoking those like a chimney.”

“Oh, how I do despise the colder weather,” Luke groaned, ignoring the nagging ambassador. “I can’t even sneak a peek at Sexybones’s exquisite collar bones when she’s wearing this many layers of clothing.”

“Don’t be weird, Luke,” Hikaru murmured, shaking his head over the doctor’s odd obsession. Wanting to ease some of the innocent tension among the bidders, Hikaru decided it would be best to change the subject. “Hey, I promised Maddy I would bring him back some souvenirs. Why don’t we all pick out some together as a group? I bet Maddy would really appreciate that.”

“Good idea, Hikaru!” Baba cheered, immediately beginning to assist Hikaru in ushering the grumbling guys over to the souvenir shop. “Hurry up, everyone! Time’s a wasting!”

Yup, you guessed it! Somewhere along the way, what was intended to be a family trip, somehow escalated into the Ichinomiya family + the auction managers = chaotic group outing.

Despite the crashers, Eito who had been wandering through the patch in search for the perfect pumpkin, spun around and burst into laughter at the familiar sight of the men he considered uncles causing the same old commotion he had grown to associate them with.

“Remind me why they are here again?” Eisuke scowled, though there was a softness in his face that didn’t align with the harshness of his words while he watched the group disappear into the front of the stop.

“Because they’re our friends,” MC giggled, while she rested her head onto his arm. “Besides, look how much fun Eito is having! Isn’t that what matters the most?”

Eisuke leaned over to plant a soft kiss on the top of her head, and tenderly stroked her cheek. “That face you’re making now isn’t the worst,” the CEO teasingly mocked. “I suppose a trip like this isn’t half-bad if it means I get to see more of that ridiculous grin you’re wearing.”

“I can’t help the fact that spending time with you two reminds me of how blessed I am,” MC sighed, nuzzling her head against his shoulder. “These moments are precious. They’re the ones I’ll forever cherish from now until the end of my time.”

Eisuke’s heart skipped a beat at the adorableness of MC’s confession, and a rare shade of crimson faintly painted his cheeks. His past self would never have been able to envision that someone like him would ever be fortunate enough to be experiencing his very own version of family bliss. Yet here he stood today as a husband and a father. He used to believe success was measured by one’s professional accomplishments. While the value of business metrics was still one of importance, Eisuke now also factored in the prosperity and good fortune he was privileged to be immersed in from MC and Eito.

“Always honest to a fault,” Eisuke retorted, trusting MC failed to notice his blush. “That’s a quality that deserves a reward, and I don’t intend on making you wait for reimbursement any longer. Come here, baby.”

Reaching around behind MC, Eisuke placed his hand on her back. Pulling her into his embrace, MC’s body stiffened in a bashfulness from how intimately they were standing in public. The familiar masculine scent of his cologne radiated from his body as her husband wiggled MC even more snugly against him. Eisuke’s hot breath tickled the front of her neck, and his expression softened as he cupped her chin, and MC’s nerves instantly melted away. She wanted to kiss him, and she wanted to kiss him now. Rising on her tip toes, MC inched closer, drawing herself to the part of Eisuke’s lips until-

“Mom, take a look at what I found!” Eito boasted, interrupting his parents by suddenly making his way over. “I found you the perfect pumpkin!”Eito was grinning from ear to ear, his cheeks puffed out in pride as he held up a large, bright orange pumpkin.

Stepping away from Eisuke, MC crouched down and extended her arms to greet Eito.“Eito, what a wonderful find,” MC cheered, genuinely impressed by the amount of though Eito was putting into ensuring he found her such an impeccable pumpkin.

“If that’s what you consider a superb pumpkin, then you have very juvenile taste,” Eisuke jabbed, miffed that his MC’s attention was taken from him. “Don’t ever present your mother with less than she deserves.”

“Eisuke….,” MC began to interject, but was left unheard since Eisuke was already headed towards the fields.

“Don’t make excuses for him,” Eisuke replied. “Come on, Eito. Allow me to remind you of what constitutes as an Ichnomiya standard.”

“I don’t need you to tell me anything!” Eito argued. Despite his protests, Eito set aside his pride and chased after his father.

MC watched from a distance as the two thoroughly inspected the rows of pumpkins. She was able to gather they were quarreling back and forth based on Eito’s everchanging facial expressions, but she was also able to observe the look of admiration Eito often held for Eisuke. Eito was intently hanging onto every word Eisuke spoke, and even divulged his appreciation by offering the billionaire a small nod in approval when they reached an agreement on the ideal pumpkin. Eisuke signaled for one of the workers to come assist, and Eito held the pumpkin proudly to his chest.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A few weeks had passed since that fun day at the pumpkin patch. MC was about to leave their home and meet Eisuke in the lobby of the Tres Spades, when she caught a glimpse at the picture frame of the three of them on the coffee table. Her lips curled in a smile as she recollected that fond memory. Sparing one final peek at the happy photo, she eagerly stepped into the elevator.

After riding down into the lobby, the doors to the elevator sprung open and MC gasped in awe at the marvelous scene decorating the entrance into the hotel. She could hardly believe that the entire face of the lobby was covered in pumpkins. Each was turned into a different type of jack-o-lantern; carved with intricate details, and brightly illuminating from the inside. The normal atmosphere was vastly transformed into a not-so-spooky Halloween theme.

“Mom, you’re finally here!” Eito shouted as he ran across the room to greet her.

“Conduct yourself more appropriately,” Eisuke scolded, frowning when Eito ignored him and continued to race towards his mother and tightly hug her.

“We had the farm deliver all of these pumpkins, and then dad and I asked Uncle Ota to design them since we thought it would make you happy! Did it work? Are you happy?” the little boy asked, his eyes widened in an impatient anticipation as he awaited his mom’s response.

“Of course, I’m happy! You two did an amazing job working together,” MC acknowledged in pride, also addressing Eisuke who had just finished walking over to join her and Eito. “What did I ever do to deserve to be spoiled like this by my two favorite men in the entire world?”

MC wrapped Eito up into a hug and reached out to grasp onto Eisuke’s hand. Knowing that Eisuke and Eito worked through their differences to come together as father and son and plan such an elaborate surprise for her was truly better than any physical gift they could present her with.

“I love you, guys,” MC whispered, blinking back the tears of joy threatening to spill in elate of her excitement.

“Love you too, mom,” Eito murmured, blushing shyly at the direct confession.

Pressing a kiss on Eito’s forehead, MC captured Eisuke’s gaze with her own. Her eyes flashed in adoration when Eisuke lightly gave her hand a squeeze, and shared the sentimental smile he retained only for her.

I love you too, baby. I love you too.

#kissed by the baddest bidder #eisuke ichinomiya #kbtbb fanfic #voltage inc #eisuke ichinomiya fanfic #love 365 #voltage fanfic #kbtbb #kbtbb eisuke

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gemstoneslesbian · 3 years ago

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Oh wow, you have so many neat WIPs!! Do you want to talk more about the Matt and Juan friendship one?

Thank you!! ^^

And yeah sure! :D

Okay so, basically... I read this fic where the person's characterization of Matt was almost exactly like my own. There were only minor differences here and there, and none that impacted the overall characterization / storylines. He definitely acts differently, but the changes lined up with how he'd be acting if he had that different life, y'know?

So it was just like... reading an AU of my Matt. A very very sad AU that absolutely ripped my heart out. And then I became very fixated on making things better for him in that AU. (And when I wrote him, I went ahead and wrote him completely consistently with my own characterization, but again, it barely changed anything.)

There was ALSO a different fic, written by a different person, that took hold of my emotions. This version of Juan is separate from my own characterization of him, but I was interested in writing with this alternate version of him. I pitied him and wanted better things for him, too.

So I was like... might as well write a fix-it fic where these two end up becoming friends instead of rivals.

I didn't write very much of it, but here's what I did have written:

Juan Corrida is laughing with a group of his friends. He can feel the pride swelling in his chest, practically bursting out of him. His heart’s been pounding since his agent called with the news that he got the role.

He’s been acting professionally for years now, but most of his jobs have been smaller. Nothing the media would catch sight of, nothing to provide steady financial support, nothing that would have much of a chance of getting him noticed or kickstarting his career. While the roles have slowly been getting bigger and better and closer to the spotlight, he’s never had anything like this before.

He finishes off his drink—the last one of the night, he reminds himself—and excuses himself to go find a trash bin.

Taking the opportunity to really soak in his surroundings and immerse himself in the high energy of the club, he doesn’t notice the pretty man in his path until he nearly collides with him.

Juan curses softly as he draws back just in time, thankful that there’s nothing left in his cup.

The man doesn’t glance up at him, just steps out of the way, head down and thumbs tucked into designer jeans.

He’s about to apologize and move on when he realizes that he recognizes him. “Oh, hey there!” He hopes that his tone comes out as friendly and easy-going as intended. “Aren’t you that guy who’s gonna star in the new Samurai show?”

A grin breaks over the man’s face, charming and boyish and perfect for flashing cameras. Despite the expression, however, his hands remain stiffly at his sides, and his posture is tense. “That’s me! And you are?”

“Juan Corrida.” He extends his free hand. “Starring in the upcoming show The Jammin’ Ninja. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

The man shakes his hand. “Pleasure to meet you. Congrats on your role!” He’s meeting Juan’s eyes, but his stare is distant, unfocused.

“You, as well!” He lets their hands drop. “I’m sorry—I saw you in the papers, but I don’t remember your name.”

The man’s smile drops for half a second before it returns again, this time sickly sweet and coyish. “Matt Engarde.” His tone is softer as well, more effeminate. He doesn’t say anything else.

Juan is caught off-guard by this, and he’s not sure what to think of the sudden change in demeanor. He’s suddenly aware of how awkward the positioning of his limbs feel, and the fact that he’s still holding that empty cup. Figuring it would be odd to simply nod and walk away without another word, he wracks his brain for anything else he could add. “Well. It caught my eye because one of my favorite actors of all time had a big role in the previous installment.”

The new show had caught his eye, all right. It was an instinctively bitter reaction; after the tragedy that took Jack Hammer, it was hard to feel any sort of fondness for some flashy new sequel. Still, it’s a personal grudge that isn’t fair to take out on some up-and-coming kid.

He’s about to make his escape with a final compliment and an encouraging statement, but what he’d said had apparently struck some sort of a chord with Engarde. Engarde lights up, hands flying to his chest and a more genuine smile appearing on his face.

“Oh? And who was that? Did you watch the old show? Are you going to watch the new one?”

He honestly hadn’t been planning on hanging around for long. Just a quick friendly greeting would have done it. But at risk of seeming rude, he chuckles and shifts his weight. “Yeah, for sure.” He pauses. “The actor was Jack Hammer.”

#replies

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kuphulwho · 4 years ago

Text

Mechamorph Headcanons

Because I have thoughts.

- It’s a common misconception that Mechamorphs can’t see in full color. As seen here, that definitely isn’t the case at all.

- Green isn’t the only color that Mechamorphs come in. While they always have a black base, their markings can be pretty much any color, and these markings can take on a wide variety of shapes. Solid black Mechamorphs are very rare, and only occur when a dead Mechamorph is brought back to life after a significant amount of time has passed post-mortem. Essentially, it can be said that the color has drained from their bodies at this point.

- Since Mechamorphs can shapeshift, they can make aesthetic changes to their bodies at will. They can give themselves spikes, form their goo in a way that somewhat resembles hair, make their markings glow brightly, etcetera.

- A normal, healthy Mechamorph’s markings will have a soft glow to them when awake, and this glow is especially noticeable in the dark. Their bodies are also shiny and somewhat reflective, as demonstrated in DAA. This glow only fades when a Mechamorph is asleep, although they may flicker a bit if they are having a dream. If a Mechamorph who is awake has a diminished shine, reflectiveness, and glow, then they are probably sick.

- When a Mechamorph is flustered, their markings will often glow brighter on their own accord, pretty much their own version of blushing. Conversely, though, if it’s only their optic that is glowing, then it is typically a sign of aggression.

- In original series popup trivia, Mechamorphs have biomechanical blood, which can be energized to create their trademark optic beam. This blood is always the same color as the Mechamorph’s markings, and so is their optic beam.

- Mechamorphs are borderline immortal. They can only die of unnatural causes. Even a techno-organic virus won’t kill them. With the right treatment, they’ll just behave and function strangely until the virus has run its course. While electricity, magnetic fields, and excessive stretching can definitely hurt them, it’s never enough to actually kill them. According to original series comics, one of the few things that can legitimately kill a Mechamorph is acid. And, according to DJW, extreme heat is another one of the few things that can kill them, with lava being given as an example. Plain old fire, however, isn’t enough to kill them. As demonstrated by Malware, this doesn’t even make them flinch. And speaking of Malware, his unique abilities are also one of the few things that can kill a Mechamorph, but that can still be reversed with quick enough intervention.

- As said before, Mechamorphs have an incredible resistance to heat (although this does still have its limits), but it goes both ways. They are also very resistant to cold. In fact, while a hot enough temperature can kill a Mechamorph, a cold enough temperature will only put them into a hibernative state until they’re able to warm up again. They can actually use their resistance to both temperature extremes to their advantage. Being made of living metal, not only can they touch you with obscenely cold hands if they’ve been out in the cold long enough, but they can also become walking weapons if they’ve been out in the heat long enough. If you know how hot metal in the summer feels, then you have an idea of what it would feel like if a Mechamorph that’s been in the heat for an extended period of time were to touch you.

- Mechamorphs, even though do they do favor bipedal movement most of the time, are fully capable of running on all fours. Both Upgrade and Malware have been seen doing this at some point.

- Mechamorphs can auto-tune their own voices. This ability, naturally, makes them formidable singers. However, Mechamorphs going through puberty often lose control of this for a while, speaking in auto-tune when not intending to. Mechamorphs can also fully understand and communicate in binary code.

- Eating and drinking are things that are very ill-advised for Mechamorphs. Their bodies are not designed to do so. As such, should they try, their body will inevitably react to whatever was consumed as if it were a foreign body. This can be seen happening with Baz-l in Eye of the Beholder.

- Yes, Mechamorphs legitimately t-pose as a display of dominance and/or defiance. This is backed up by canon, by the way.

- Mechamorphs can be aquatic if they choose to do so. Much like Piscciss Volann, they can shift an aquatic tail. Additionally, they don’t need to breathe, they’re resistant to temperature extremes, and there’s a good chance that they’re resistant to water pressure, at least to an extent.

- While Mechamorphs don’t have a default physical sex, they do at least understand the concept of gender. Some are male, some female, some nonbinary, and some agender. When it comes to intercourse and reproduction, Mechamorphs can form whatever reproductive organs are needed in order to carry it out.

- Because Mechamorphs have no default physical sex, any two Mechamorphs of any gender can produce offspring together. A single Mechamorph can also produce a child of their own asexually.

- Surprisingly, Mechamorphs can actually reproduce with other species, because they’re techno-organic. However, interspecies reproduction with Mechamorphs typically leads to either-or offspring in most cases, with the offspring most closely resembling the species of the dam. This is because proper meshing can’t really happen most of the time. Hybrid offspring where the Mechamorph was their dam tend to be more flexible in that regard, though.

- Because Mechamorph dams in an interspecies relationship would be at a significant disadvantage during a pregnancy atypical to their species, they have developed a method of carrying it out quickly. Essentially, an egg-shaped pod, large enough to support the developing fetus, starts forming in the dam’s body upon successful conception that is, on average, birthed between one and two weeks after conception. While no incubation is really needed for the pod to eventually “hatch,” incubating it can definitely speed the process up. The aforementioned pregnancy disadvantages include more limited shapeshifting and an inability to fully merge with technology.

- Should the non-Mechamorph be the dam in an interspecies relationship, they’ll simply carry out the pregnancy as normal for their species. However, getting them pregnant to begin with takes a lot of tries the vast majority of the time, more than what is usually typical of their species. An interesting quirk can be seen in this situation as well. Basically, if the non-Mechamorph parent is the dam, then any resulting offspring will always be female. This is because, while Mechamorphs do have some kind of equivalent to sex chromosomes, they’re more of a stand-in than anything, seeing as they don’t have a default physical sex. As such, when it comes to sex determination, even though there’s another sex chromosome there, the fetus only has their dam’s X chromosome to go on, so it ends up defaulting to female.

- Conversely, it is much easier for two Mechamorphs to reproduce with each other. In fact, many would say that it is almost too easy, with there being no real effective way of preventing it. After copulation, there is a significant chance of an infant extruding from the body of the dam afterwards. This can happen anywhere from just a few days later, to several months later. Unlike with pod production, pregnant Mechamorphs in this situation suffer no limitations to their shapeshifting and tech merging abilities. Should a single Mechamorph wish to asexually reproduce in this manner, though, it cannot happen by accident. They must consciously decide to do this.

- Another way that Mechmorphs can reproduce is by spawning animalistic symbiotes, like Ship. Unlike typical sexual and asexual reproduction, though, the spawning of a symbiote is something that always happens instantaneously, rather than sometime later.

- Baby Mechamorphs are called bytes. They start out resembling Ship, with a “tail” in place of their legs and little nubs for arms. Unlike human infants, they are actually able to hold their head up from birth. Shortly after they start crawling, their tail turns into a blob that they use to start practicing upright movement. At this point, their arms become a little more defined as well. Eventually, this blob will split into a pair of legs, and proper hands and fingers should appear. By now, a byte is considered to be a toddler. Symbiotes, meanwhile, typically remain a similar shape to that they were born with for their entire lives.

- Mechamorphs don’t typically wear clothes, so how do they carry their infants around without carriers, slings, or anything of that nature? Well, before their legs develop and they start learning to walk, bytes are carried around in a pouch that is shapeshifted by one of their parents. Because they don’t need to breathe, bytes are capable of remaining in these pouches indefinitely, although they are still taken out of the pouch when they don’t need to be in it, or they just really want out. This pouch can also be used to incubate pods.

- Marking/blood/optic beam color heredity can be a trip and a half. For example, the possible colors from two green Mechamorphs reproducing, or a single green Mechamorph reproducing asexually, are green, yellow-green, blue-green, yellow, and blue. This is because green is a secondary color, and these are the colors that make up green. Conversely, let’s say that you either have two red Mechamorphs reproducing, or a single red Mechamorph reproducing asexually. Since red is a primary color, there aren’t as many color possibilities. The only real possibilities here are shades of red, including pink. However, when two Mechamorphs of different primary colors reproduce, using red and blue as an example, the possible colors are red, blue, purple, red-purple, and blue-purple. Additionally, there are a whole slew of possible colors when two Mechamorphs of differing secondary colors reproduce. For example, the possible colors when a purple and green Mechamorph reproduce are red, blue, yellow, green, purple, orange, yellow-orange, yellow-green, blue-green, blue-purple, and red-purple, pretty much every color of the rainbow. Mechamorph parents of differing tertiary colors are just as volatile. Finally, when a white Mechamorph reproduces with any Mechamorph that isn’t white, the possible colors are white, whatever color the other parent is, and a lighter shade of whatever color the other parent is. Meanwhile, when solid black Mechmamorphs produce offspring, they go by the rules of whatever color it was that they used to be. Yes, these facts of marking/blood/optic beam color heredity have been used to detect infidelity before.

#ben 10 #thinkythunk

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prettyflyshyguy · 4 years ago

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Teehee what if I was to drop most of the C Virus AU Fanfic CH3 right now at 12:28AM... Unless.

Unedited/draft Ch1, Ch2 first half, Ch2 second half, for your perusal, and here’s a very unedited first chunk of CH3 that isn’t quite finished because I have work tomorrow but it involves interaction with Ada and I’m sitting here all :)))))))))) while writing so I hope you enjoy!

Perched atop a building, he scanned the area below. As he was making his way towards the area where Simmons should be, he had heard gunfire. Despite his grizzly appearance, if someone was in trouble he could still find a way to help, surely. A street facing door was suddenly kicked open and a figure stumbled out, with a crossbow of all things in their hands.

‘No. Way.’ he thought as he carefully descended from the roof, wanting to get a clearer look.

The survivor fired a shot at something inside the building, before ducking back. A small explosion occurred and a BOW, screaming and flailing stumbled out. It was more grotesque than the other C-Virus monstrosities he’d seen so far, and it looked like it had a chainsaw for an arm. It screamed in agony while the survivor readied another shot. Carefully maneuvering himself behind some rubble, the light from another small explosion from the crossbow’s bolt illuminated the survivors face for a brief moment, fully confirming his suspicions.

It was Ada, for sure. At least he thought so. She was wearing the same clothes as when he and Helena saw her in the catacombs. The mystery was still there however; which one was the real Ada Wong? Was there even a singular one? Was she just switching outfits and motives in some twisted game?

Flicking a glance back in her direction, she was staring down at the body of the BOW lying smoking on the floor, inert. He shuffled, ever so carefully, avoiding making any noise so he could tactically reposition to try and make contact. He stiffened as he felt the vibration of rubble shift under his foot, a small amount of dirt and rocks crumbling.

“Now what do we have here.”

Hoping if he kept still enough, she’d think no one was there, he held his breath. His heart rate increased as he heard the soft clack of her boots on the concrete approaching at a gentle pace, a bolt being loaded. No time to think.

Placing his hands on the ground, crouching back, he launched himself over the rubble, ignoring the sound of a bolt whizzing just past his ear. Spotting a broken window one floor up a building, he leapt into it and backed up against the wall panting, just as another bolt narrowly missed its mark.

“Honey I didn’t have the time to deal with this overly enthusiastic fellow,”

He heard the sound of another bolt being loaded.

“So how about you help a girl out and make this quick and easy for both of us.”

The ‘thwip’ of a bolt pierced the air and one landed on the other side of the room. It bounced off the wall, fell to the floor and rolled slowly towards him. The head of the bolt looked large and blunt and had a small blinking red LED. He didn’t need to guess what it meant as the rate increased, and the bolt exploded in a flash of light and smoke.

Ada stared at the cloud billowing out of the window, preparing another round for good measure. Her eyes narrowed as a few seconds passed, with no movement. She raised her weapon and aimed at where the window was, but it was barely visible now as the smoke had spread.

Suddenly the creature leapt through the smoke with frightening speed, grabbing her arm and pushing it away as she shot the loaded bolt in a random direction. It ripped the crossbow out of her arm and backed up as she spun around to face it, reaching for her holster.

Feeling nothing, her eyes widened as she noticed it was holding her handgun and crossbow. It tossed the bow aside gently, and with elegance she’d never seen from a BOW removed the magazine from the gun and dropped both parts either side of it. It maintained eye contact with her the entire time, its eyes were piercing and displayed a terrifying degree of human intelligence.

Covering up the fear in her head, she smiled.

“I can’t say I’ve ever met a man who’s tried this hard to get my attention.”

She started to pace slowly around as she drew a knife from her belt, the creature mimicked her pace as they circled.

It began to raise its arms, she dove in with the knife and test jabbed to check its reflexes. It was fast, faster than her.

Her expression turned stern. It backed up a few paces, eyes focused on her as she furiously walked closer brandishing the knife.

“I’m a very, busy, woman.” she grunted while slashing. “And I don’t, have the time, for stalkers.”

Whatever the hell she was dealing with, it clearly knew the basics of CQC. Dancing and ducking around her every swing and jab, although it made no attempt to hit her back. Suddenly its eyes flicked to something behind her, a distraction and an opening. She thrusted the knife forward but something grabbed her by the ankle and almost toppled her, one hand slamming into the ground, the other with the knife at the ready. Flicking her head to the source, the charred and burnt BOW with the chainsaw arm simply refused to die, it and had a vice grip around her right ankle. The sound of bone and flesh grinding louder and louder as it lifted its twisted machination of a chainsaw arm up as the teeth and bone started spinning again.

She looked back to the creature in front of her only to find it gone, suddenly turning back to the one grabbing her ankle, her eyes widened as she saw the second creature holding the chainsaw-arm back, with one foot on the BOW’s back. The charred living corpse let out a chilling howl as the creature pinning it down pulled its arm further back, dislocating the mutated tendons and bone, ripping muscle. The bone-tooth blade stopped spinning and the vice grip loosened. Ada sprung back up and turned around to face the creature that by all intends, spared her. It was panting while staring at the charred corpse, seemingly ensuring it was truly dead this time. She took the opportunity and sprung towards it, holding the knife in both hands.

At almost the last second before the knife hit its chest it flung one arm up to push hers back, and grabbed one of her wrists with its other, stopping her completely in her tracks. She grimaced and stared up at its face, meeting its eyes. There was almost a pleading look to them. Its grip on her wrist was firm, but not painful, she kept the knife pointed at its chest but shifted her weight so not as much force was pushing her into its arms. Despite the overcast sky, a small break in the clouds shifted and moonlight illuminated the scene and the creature's face. That’s when she noticed its unmistakable hair, the soft blue eyes. The fact it didn’t even lay a scratch on her.

“...Leon?”

His face softened and the concern was replaced with the beginnings of a warm smile, he loosened his grip on her arms and started to relax-

Her knee struck his stomach with frightening force, he stumbled back with a grunt.

“That’s for almost breaking my crossbow.”

He smiled slightly as he cocked his head to one side, probably deserved that. He gently collected her sidearm and magazine, grateful to find out despite his hands shifting he was still able to comfortably reload the gun with ease. She collected her crossbow, a pleased smile graced her face as she examined it and found it was not damaged.

“So, cat got your tongue?” her playful tone hid a mixture of contradicting emotions.

She turned back to Leon who had a hand extended, holding her sidearm out. Taking it back, she took a moment to actually look at him. He always ‘stood tall’ around her, she noted he was even taller now and actually towered over her with an air of confidence after managing to disarm her so carefully. It was hard to maintain a certain level of composure, he had hardly changed and the thought was warm but looking at what had happened was painful. His eyes were exactly the same but she could barely return his gaze without her composure breaking.

He shuffled slightly, then opened his mouth. Hoping something normal sounding would come out.

“Aa…”

The more he tried to force it, the more it hurt his throat. His shoulders shrunk inwards slightly as he turned his head to face away from her, the embarrassment and shame of the situation returning. He didn’t want to face her like this, he was regretting even trying to talk to h-

“Did Simmons do this?”

Giving up the vocal option, he shook his head. He shifted towards a wall, leaning comfortably facing her, with a flick of the wrist he pointed a finger briefly towards her, then folded his arms.

“... It was the bitch in the blue dress, wasn’t it.”

He tilted his head to one side slightly, his expression stern.

“After everything I’ve seen, it’d be pretty cold of me to just say ‘it’s complicated’ don’t you think?” she joked with a forced smile.

No one was laughing. Leon had a very high level of tolerance for her usual manner of speaking, cryptic and tangential, not today however. His entire life changed the day they met in Racoon City but this blows that experience well out of the water.

“I don’t know who she is, but Simmons made her using the C-Virus. Starting off as a bootleg version of me but it seems like she’s got big plans of her own now.”

His stare was piercing.

“I’m sorry.”

His face softened as he raised an eyebrow in surprise.

“Simmons became… A little too attached to me. I wasn’t interested in playing by his rules, let’s just say he took it a little personally when I didn’t reciprocate his feelings.”

She paced around the courtyard as she spoke.

“I don’t know how he did it, but his obsession resulted in him using the C-Virus to create a very imperfect clone of me. A bootleg Ada Wong if you will.”

Leon snorted in amusement, but he maintained his stance. Closely watching as she stood still and looked back at him.

“I’m not working for Simmons. We’re on the same side, I promise.”

Then who do you work for?

The question echoed in his mind. The one time Ada talks with him at length, he can barely say her name. He looked away, frustrated and ashamed of the circumstance. Hearing her walk closer he turned slightly only to feel the warmth of her hand brush up against his cheek, his eyes flicking towards it and back to her as they widened slightly. His arms fell to his side as her other hand gently rested on his arm. Despite the transformation he still felt the temperature of his face increase, not expecting anyone he knew would even be able to accept what happened to him and be so gentle, especially not Ada.

“I came here to clean up the mess Simmons started but now… Now it’s personal.”

#Resident Evil 6 #C Virus AU #Leon Kennedy #Ada Wong #Resident Evil #C Virus AU Fanfic #MY IDIOT SELF WRITING THIS: hehehehehe :^)#Gets to the bit where Ada is affectionate: OH FUCK OH SHIT OH GOD OH NO AUUUUUUUUUUGHHHHHHHHH #I'd die if I wrote actual romance I fucking crumble and fall appart hguarihuihuarehgr #I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS AS MUCH AS I ENJOYED WRITING IT #sorry for the tease ending I really need to go to bed but the next bit sort of is Leon being embarrassed #Ada reinforcing she's gonna fuck Fake Ada Up #and her tipping off Leon about Simmons and Helena meeting up nearby and that he should hurry

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littlejeanniebean · 4 years ago

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“you need to back the fuck off of me before i punch you” + full lyrics for God Rest Ye Merry Hippogriffs or a wizarding version of the 12 Days of Christmas song? 😃😂

this is the last prompt in my inbox! woot woot! 🙌 this was such a weird but fun one to end on, thanks @pianistbynight!

also, wizards have the same 12 days of Christmas song, they just take it very literally 😂

thank you all for prompting me this year, friends! stay safe, give love, and happy holidays!🎄

Say It’s Carol Singers

Lily awoke to an irregular tapping at her window that did not at all sound like an owl wanting to deliver a message.

She threw off the covers, took her wand off the nightstand, and tiptoed to her curtains. Since she was home for the holidays, she hid her wand behind her back. In one swift motion, she pulled the curtains aside and threw open the window.

Someone threw their leg over her window sill.

“You need to back the fuck off of me before I punch you.” Lily raised her visible fist menacingly.

“Relax, Evans, it’s me, your boyfriend, whom you lo—ow!”

Lily had thwacked him over the head with the back of her wand hand. “You scared me half to death, James! What were you thinking coming here — How did you —”

“Oi! Prongs! It’s bloody cold out here and I need your help to land this thing!”

Lily’s eyes widened. “Is that —”

“Sirius Black, at your service.” The long-haired boy twirled his effeminate hand.

The sound of footsteps came from the hallway.

“Lily?” her mother knocked on her door. “Are you alright? I heard a noise coming from outside...”

“Say it’s carol singers,” James quipped.

“You need to hide!” Lily shoved him bodily into her closet and drew the curtains in Sirius’ face. Then she opened the door to her mother. “It’s alright, mum, just couldn’t sleep, so I was exercising —”

“Exercising?” Her mother raised an eyebrow. “Ooh, you do look rather flushed, don’t overdo it now.”

Lily nodded quickly, kissed her mother goodnight, and shut the door.

“Exercising?” James peeked out from her closet.

“Shut up,” Lily stuck her tongue out at him and crossed back over to the window. “How’s your gas tank looking, Sirius?”

“Why do you automatically assume I would contribute to the greenhouse effect, Evans? I’m a deviant, not a monster —”

“Alright, alright, just park it somewhere far away from here. Suburban folks don’t take too kindly to motorbikes, flying or otherwise.”

“Right-o, come on, then Prongs.” Sirius flipped down the visor of his helmet.

“Er…” One of James’ hands carded through his hair. “Er, I was hoping to have a few words with Lily, actually —”

“Ughhhh, you said it would be a quick stop just to say hello,” Sirius whined.

“Actually, as I understand it, I’d better come with. You have a sidecar, don’t you?” Lily conjured a helmet for herself and bundled up in a thick wooly jacket. “Don’t want you getting into trouble for violating the Statute of Secrecy in my neighborhood.”

So it happened that James got on the back of the motorbike with Sirius again and Lily climbed (very carefully) into the sidecar. As they roared across the sky (for aesthetic, Sirius really was not using any fuel), Lily turned on the radio to the Wizarding Wireless Network.

God rest ye merry hippogriffs

Let nothing you dismay

For while the reindeer travel far

The eve ‘fore Christmas day

You, too, hold your very own pow’r

You’re fierce and strong and brave

Oh, who needs to deliver toys

Deliver toys

To all the world’s girls and boys?

Lily choked out a confused laugh. “This… was supposed to be a happy song, I’m sure.”

“Oh, it gets better!” James yelled over the wind, enjoying her amusement.

In Hogwarts, in Scotland’s moors

The children learn to fear

Your carnivorous nature

Extends to human flesh, they hear

But then they learn that if they’re nice

You’ll be their friend for life

Oh, who needs to deliver toys

Deliver toys

To all the world’s girls and boys?

Fear not then, says your keeper

Let nothing you affront

For keeping one’s life is a better

Reason to be naughty not

You aid all those who trust you

With your pow’r and might

Oh, who needs to deliver toys

Deliver toys

To all the world’s girls and boys?

Sirius and James took the motorbike down in a meadow for a bumpy landing.

“Right, make it quick you lovebirds,” said Sirius, walking away quickly like they were about to do something he didn’t want to witness. “I want us to get back before Euphemia wakes up.”

James took Lily’s hand and helped her out of the sidecar.

“Seriously — no pun intended,” she added quickly before her weird-humored boyfriend could comment. “What possessed you to come all the way out here?”

“Didn’t want you to miss me too much.” James grinned.

Lily shoved him into the snow, immediately felt guilty, because she was starting to feel rather lonely with no one but Petunia for company most days since her parents’ jobs were particularly demanding over the holidays. (Lily really identified with the hippogriffs in the song.)

So she reached down to help James stand, but he tugged her down on top of him.

“Oof.” The wind was knocked out of her when she looked into his pretty hazel eyes.

James tucked a tendril of deep red hair behind her ear, tinged pink from the cold. “Happy Christmas, Evans.”

“Happy Christmas, Potter.” She sighed against his lips.

#jily fanfiction #marauders fanfiction #james potter #lily evans #christmas #sirius black #god rest ye merry gentlemen #god rest ye merry hippogriffs #yes i did come up with those lyrics myself thank you #jeannie bean writes #jeannie bean gets asked #mutual love #12 days to christmas #12 days of christmas

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snowbellewells · 4 years ago

Text

Do as the Romans Do

A @captainswanmoviemarathon fic by @snowbellewells

((((I made a first attempt at creating my own fic art, but for whatever reason, I can’t get it to post in my story. It’s on my page, but for whatever reason, I can’t get them both in one!)))

Hello there! Welcome to my little Roman Holiday-inspired AU for the @captainswanmoviemarathon! There were some scenes from the original movie that I was simply too enamored with not to include, so those I am sure you’ll recognize those, but I’ve also let this version of Killian and Emma wander off on their own when they wish to change the script a bit. I’m envisioning this being about three parts - today’s shorter introduction to set the scene, a larger part two with the bulk of the plot, and then a shorter conclusion to wrap things up. We’ll see how it goes (or if it grows on me beyond that!) Please enjoy, and I’d love to hear what you think…

Part One

*Press Release*

From the Royal Italian Embassy this 4th of September, 1953, Princess Emma Ruth Nolan, Crown Princess of the small nation of Misthavia, only child of Queen Margaret Mary Blanchard-Nolan and King Consort David Nolan visits us here in Rome for a brief stop on her first solo goodwill tour.

Already, she has made stops in Copenhagen, Prague, Vienna, and Geneva, and will attend a state dinner, tour local businesses, preside over a medal ceremony, christen the children’s wing of a hospital, and hold a press conference in her three days here before heading on to Paris and London to complete her journey across Europe. Lucky indeed are those who have an invite to one of these events and will have a chance to meet the Princess in person!

The receiving line outside the embassy dining room had long since passed from lengthy to trying and on to interminable as Emma prayed her empty stomach would not begin to grumble aloud before she was finally able to find a seat at the head table and at last enjoy the hard-earned meal. As always seemed to be the case at these formal events, meeting “just a select few” somehow turned into glad-handing with a neverending line of people she would never remember or hope to keep straight from one another.

To think she had initially been excited about this particular event! At least she had thought there might be the chance for some entertainment and dancing after dinner. Now that she stood in one place for so long, she was regretting the posh new heels she had paired with her full-skirted ballgown for the occasion. If she ever got to move from her spot again, Emma was not at all sure that her feet would actually support forward motion any longer; they might well be broken inside the three-inch heels.

Hoping to do so without being noticed, Emma stealthily shifted most of her weight onto one foot, lifting the other slightly beneath her skirts and flexing her toes in the hope of bringing feeling back to the extremities. She bobbled a bit, but thankfully her press secretary, and closest friend since nursery school, child of palace staff or not, was standing beside her. Surreptitiously, Emma caught Ashley’s arm to steady herself. The other blonde made no comment, merely offered a reassuring sidelong glance and tiny smile without the disapproval that Emma knew she would have received from the Countess on her other side - a retired former nun who had been her main chaperone and minder of all the etiquette and behavior since Emma’s first official public appearance years go. The Princess could practically see the woman’s pinched disapproving mouth, admonishing eyes and warning tone - even in Mistress Blue’s absence.

The end of the receiving line was at last in sight, and Emma let out a breath that she hoped went unnoticed, trying as hard as she could not to let her eyes roll back in her head at the momentary relief she had gained for her aching feet. Intending to put the first one back into its pretty little torture device and flex the other similarly, she continued blindly offering her hand to the passing dignitaries, murmuring greetings and shifting to her other side gingerly.

Unfortunately, just as her foot returned to its shoe, a flashbulb went off unexpectedly and much closer than any had been so far. She blinked, momentarily blinded, and her balance wobbled; the hidden empty shoe tipped over on its side before she could slip her toes back into it. This made her dip unexpectedly to the left, and she felt herself falling, despite all her natural grace and her practiced poise. Cheeks already flushing, Emma’s tongue was too tangle to call out, knowing her one bare foot and her impatient lack of polish was about to be exposed before she even hit the floor. A gasp escaped Ashley on her other side as she realized too late what was happening and tried to catch Emma’s hand, but instead, what arrested her fall was the interception of two warm, firm hands at her elbows, halting the topple which had seemed inevitable only seconds ago.

Suddenly braced by the solid forearms in a lean, handsomely suited man standing there before her, Emma blinked, reorienting herself to the fact that he’d spared her a rather embarrassing incident, she wouldn’t be humiliated on all the gossip shows that evening.

“Th - Thank you, Sir,” she breathed tremulously, quickly fishing her toes into her shoe and righting it at last before straightening and looking up to meet her rescuer’s eyes.

Bright, crystal blue met her inquisitive green as she did so, a twinkling of mischief enlivened his expression even further against the heavy dark brows and the rather rakish appeal of his unshaven cheeks and jaw. For a moment, the breath nearly rushed from Princess Emma’s lungs again - for a completely different reason.

A gentle chuckle rumbled from this undeniably handsome stranger’s chest as he dipped his chin in the slightest of acknowledging bows. “Think nothing of it, your Majesty. I’m simply glad I was here.”

She nodded in mute agreement, wincing again at how she’d nearly made herself a laughingstock. It was one of the things she hated most about her life as a monarch - one silly mistake, unimportant in the grand scheme of things, could undo or overshadow so much good, so much hard work in a mere instant.

With a rather devilish wink, the man before her, bowed his head over her hand, now more delicately cradled in his own larger one and place and brazen kiss to the back of it, his whiskers prickling her skin and sending tingles all along her nerve endings. “After all, it isn’t every day one finds a princess in his debt,” he murmured silkily.

She blushed brighter, knowing they were beginning to hold up the line and draw curious attention now, but not wanting him to move on. “Is that so?” she replied with equally humored stealth.

“Indeed.” He sketched on more quick bow, then added, “Killian Jones, at your service, Princess. And if you are safely in your shoes once more, I suppose I must be going now.”

Her eyes widened even as her fingers released their grip, and he slipped on through the line, while she extended her hand to shake those of the last few people behind him. He had known what happened all the time! Why did that make her heart beat even faster than it had been already?

~~~*

That night, after a long bath, with her hair brushed, nightgown donned, and her legs tucked under the blankets, Princess Emma still felt her fingers tingling from the remembered grip of Jones’ hand, even as she listened to the Countess’ long list of the next day’s engagements. Emma tried not to shudder as she noticed that once again nearly every moment was spoken for, every word and action, and even thought, seemed already determined for her. That near-fall and the following encounter had been the most excitement she could remember in her meticulously programmed, rote, respectable, predictable life of duty.

What would it be like to simply walk out of such an event, as Jones and all the other attendees had done, and have it simply be over? To return to a normal life? To determine what one wanted to do for oneself, and have no watching eyes to judge or weight the following movements. She could hardly imagine such freedom.

When Emma was finally left alone for the night, she knew she needed to sleep. According to the schedule that had just been droned into her ear, she had an early morning before her. Yet, sleep felt the furthest thing from her mind. Eventually, she threw the covers off and hopped back out of bed, crossing the sumptuous room provided to her by her Roman hosts and gazing out the window to the River Tiber below in the distance. Music and lights reached out to her beguilingly despite the hour, and she wished she could be in the midst of whatever celebration was happening there, a part of the laughter and dancing and raucous joy she could only imagine from the echoes that reached her.

It was not an unprecedented longing, but one that struck her more acutely than ever this night. She was going to have this experience while she had the chance. Mind made up as abruptly as the moment presented itself, Emma flew from the window to her suitcase, quickly shedding her nightgown and putting on her most understated skirt, blouse, and espadrilles. With hardly a look back, shew as soon perched on the window ledge, preparing to climb down the fire escape of the old, sturdy building she was staying in without risk of alerting any of her numerous attendants and guardians.

‘Just one day to herself, to live as she chose,’ Emma vowed, closing her eyes for a moment and then surging forward. ‘Then it’s back to what’s expected, what I’ve always known will be my life…’

As she reached the ground and then slipped through the embassy gates out into the night air and the excitement of a foreign city, Princess Emma Ruth Nolan felt like someone else entirely. Like someone who could breath freely for the first time in her life.

Tagging: @captainswanmoviemarathon @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @jennjenn615 @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @whimsicallyenchantedrose @tiganasummertree @lfh1226-linda @optomisticgirl @spartanguard @laschatzi @resident-of-storybrooke @darkcolinodonorgasm @stahlop @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @thislassishooked @shireness-says @thisonesatellite

#captainswanmoviemarathon #csmm #roman holiday au #cs ff #part one

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