#why does my face always feel like a ballon when i wake up

[fabulous-gabulous-theartist]

The look on my face when I wake up for the second half of a clopening shift. I even went to bed at a reasonable time too.

You think I'd be used to it by now cause I've done it every Monday/Tuesday for about two years now, but nope!

[filippoinzaghi]

2, 5, and 10!

2. Favorite piece overall?

It is a very close tie between don’t grow tired of me and and I’ll only need to hold you. One because it took me by surprise and the story almost wrote itself and it is one of the longest fic I have written that I’m actually very proud of. The other because it’s a multi-chapter fic I actually finished and because it contained challenges (for instance : a smut scene which I had never done in english before). I also wrote it at a time I wasn’t exactly feeling great and I poured some of my feelings into it, especially for one particular chapter and it kinda help in a way.

The rest under the cut because it gets long haha

5. What is an image/set of images that you’re particularly proud of?

There’s this one scene in Rhythm of Paris I really like :

He’s been there for five months, now, they’ve been cruising in Ligue 1 and managed their way out of the group stage of the Champion’s. They have a nice group, he likes them. He sees all the little ones coming up to challenge the elders and all this mix blends pretty well. Some reminds him of how long he’s been out there on the grass, like Timothy – he was his age when he clashed with his father, crazy. Some reminds him why he loves turning his back to the goal, like Alphonse. God, does he love that kid. He is of great talent and he is soft-spoken. They talk almost every day, the young man confides in a lot to him. It is difficult sometimes, seeing his only presence in the club challenges his place but it never goes between them : this is a conversation between Alphonse and the board and he perfectly knows it. Gigi appreciates that and likes him even more for it.

“Stop that.” Marco tells him but he’s smiling nonetheless.

“Stop what?” He answers with a smile of his own, glancing at him before taking another look at his teammates on the pitch.

“You have your sappy uncle face.”

“My what?”

“That face you have when you look at us younglings and you think you obviously need to protect us.”

And then there’s also this from don’t grow tired of me :

It keeps him up at night, turning and tossing in his bed, the soft purring of the fan - which barely does any good - his only companion. Most mornings, he wakes up in sweat, sheets thrown on the floor and an aching in his muscles more and more present each day. Where has the time when he was young and unbreakable gone? Some nights he hears a sputtering car in the wee hours of the morning, probably one of the neighbours’ kid. He dreads it. Every time. He can’t help it but he always connect the sound to his (dying) career and with each breath he takes, he fears he has made a mistake by coming here; he fears he will never be prepared to let go. He fears goodbyes might not be his forte, in everything, people and football alike.

There’s this bit in Espoirs Déchus (Fallen Hope) (intergalactic football coaches were gays ALPHANIM!!!)

Artegor ne riait plus.

Le regard d'Aarch était fuyant, son visage semblait avoir pris dix ans rien qu'en prononçant ces mots. Un visage marqué. Hanté. Voilà plus de dix ans qu'ils n'avaient plus parlé de la catastrophe ensemble. Voilà plus de dix ans qu'il n'en avait pas parlé tout court. Des souvenirs qu’il préférait enfouir au plus profond de lui chaque fois qu’ils refaisaient surface. Des marques indélébiles, cicatrices physiques et psychologiques d’un jeune homme qu’il s’était efforcé d’oublier.

« Je- »

Artegor était à court de mot, la gorge nouée tandis que sous ses lunettes sombres, malgré tous ses efforts, ce match se rejouait inexorablement, incapable d’arrêter le film dans sa tête. Aarch devant lui, ce ballon tombant sur sa nuque, son pied qui repousse la balle… La faute… Le coup-franc…  Les espoirs fous avant la tragédie cruelle.

(Translation :

Artegor stopped laughing.

Aarch’s gaze was fleeting, his face looked as if it had aged ten years by just uttering the words. A face traced by time. Haunted. It had been ten years since they had last talked of the tragedy together. It had been ten years since they had talked about it to anyone, in fact. Memories he’d rather bury deep inside him whenever they surfaced. Permanent marks, physical and mental scars of a young man who had tried to forget.

“I-”

Artegor was short for words, his throat in a knot. Under his dark glasses, and despite all his efforts, the game kept playing inexorably. He was unable to stop the movie in his mind... Aarch ahead of him... Controlling the ball with his neck... His foot pushing the ball forward... The foul... The free-kick.... Desperate crazy hopes before the cruel tragedy.)

10. Favorite line or lines of dialogue that you’ve written

OBVIOUSLY, from don’t grow tired of me :

(“What does it feel like, Macca?”

“What feels like what?”

“Retiring.”

…

…

“I s’ppose it’s like dying in a way. Not that I know what that actually feels like, thank god. But it feels like how I imagine it to be.”

“Were you scared?”

“Not really.”

“I’m fucking terrified.”)

That bit in Le Blues de Perceval (Percival’s Blues)

« Ecoutez… — Non mais c’est bon j’ai compris. Je sers à rien, j’fais tout d’travers. J’ferais mieux d’rentrer chez moi au Pays d’Galles. — Dîtes pas ça. — Non mais c’est vrai. J’veux tout faire bien pour vous, mais j’y arrive jamais. — Mais non, vous arrivez quand même à faire des choses. — Oui, une. A chaque fois j’me débrouille pour que vous me détestiez encore plus qu’avant. »

[...]

« J’vous déteste pas. Je pourrais jamais vous détester, vous êtes trop naïf pour ça. J’pourrais jamais vous détester et c’est ça le problème, parce que j’vous passe tout. Mais j’m’en fiche. Parce que j’vous aime et j’suis désolé de vous avoir crié dessus. Vous êtes pas un nul. Vous faites des efforts, vous êtes important. »

(Translation

“Listen...”

“No, it’s okay, I get it. I’m useless, I always do things the wrong way. I’d better go back home in Wales.”

“Don’t say that.”

“But it’s true. I want to do everything perfectly for you but I always fail.”

“It’s not true, you do manage to do things well.”

“Yes, just one. Everytime I manage to make you hate me even more.”

“I don’t hate you. I could never hate you, you’re too naive. I could never hate and that’s the problem because I always forgive you. But I don’t care. ‘Cause I love you and I’m sorry I yelled. you’re not a zero. You make efforts, you’re important.”)

And then this bit from the prompt you send me :

“You wish, N.eville.” His eyes are glinting with the same brightness as usual and something lifts in Gary’s chest. “So… Missing me, still?”

Gary withdraws his hand, as if burnt, and pokes Jamie’s shoulder.

“Getting used to one Scouser is more than enough, I’m not doing this again. So whatever you do in the future just don’t die.” He says, indignant.

There are other tiny pieces but I’d just end up quoting the same fics lmao.

Thank you !!

[fae-fucker]

Shatter Me: Chapter 14-15

Chapter 14

There is a distinct flavor of panic lodged somewhere underneath my tongue[...]

Warning: I go completely off the fucking rails in this one.

Juliette wakes up from her random loss of consciousness and Warner Bros. is there, because of course.

“I hate you.” 

“So much passion.” He laughs again. He looks so calm, so genuinely amused. He stares at me with eyes softer than I ever expected them to be.

SQUEEE omg so QYOOOT I ship them so HARD can’t you just SEE the chemistry! And the way she’s so ANGRY but he doesn’t take it seriously but his EYES betray a SOFTER SIDE!!

Is this a perfect ship or is this a perfect ship?

And, of course, she’s in Warner Bros.’s bedroom! Where else would she be, amirite? It’s not like she has her own room or anything, Warner Bros. had to take her to his own for angst reasons! What an excellent shipping opportunity! Tumblr sure loves this trope amirite, fellas?

“Take me to my own room. I don’t want to be here.”

“And yet, here you are.”

Boyfriend goals and also dialogue goals??? Hmm.

“Are you thirsty?”

Oh she’s thirsty alright. Thirsty for DAT THERE DICK, GOBBLE GOBBLE. 

Or she will be once that pesky rEdEMptIoN ArC is over with ;))))))

Not that Warner Bros. needs one, he’s already SOY SEXOY.

SEX ME GUD WARNER BROS.

I don’t know if it’s because I can’t think straight or if it’s because I’m genuinely confused, but I’m struggling to reconcile Warner’s polarizing personalities. Here he is, offering me a glass of water after he forced me to torture someone.

OMG RIGHT?! HE’S SUCH A COMPLEXXXXXX INDAVEDUALÉ!

ABUSERS DON’T AT ALL EMPLOY THIS AS A MANIPULATION TACTIC, IT’S JUST HIS REAL, TRUE, KIND PERSONALITY PEEKING THROUGH THAT ROUGH BAD BOY EXTERIOR, AMIRITE FELLAS.

(Also, is Juliette really comparing giving her water as being on the same extreme level as MAKING HER TORTURE SOMEONE? I guess these are the typical standards for a male love interest. You can get away with murder and torture as long as your eyes are soft and you pet a puppy once.)

“Why are you being nice to me?”

[...]

“Because I care about you,” he says simply.

[...]

“Your soldiers beat me! You keep me here like a prisoner! You threaten me! You threaten to kill me! You give me no freedom and you say you care about me?” [...] “You are a monster!”

[...]

“I am only trying to help you.”

SeEeEEEe?! WARNER BROS. IS ACTUALLY NIC E ON TEH INSIDE.

But it’s ok Juliette will soon realize the error of her ways and get on dat dere dong like where she should be.

Boyfriend goals!

Warner Bros. says that he can’t let Juliette go and brags about how he’s very good at killing people (omg so hot!!!), implying that that’s not Juliette’s main purpose here. I mean since Jenkins didn’t die, she’s presumably here to torture people, or they gon experiment on her or some shit. 

Idk. I don’t care about story or worldbuilding as long as there’s mean dick.

Turns out that Warner Bros. is actually a Warner Sons, because his daddy is in charge and let him have control over an entire sector because he’s so good at the murder stuff. Uh. Ok.

Uh I mean WARNER BROS IS SO HAWT!! SO ANGST! MUCH PAIN! VERY CONFLICTED!

“The mechanics of fear are simple enough. People are intimidated by me, so they listen when I speak.”

If you say so, you edgy fucking dweeb. 

Uh I mean OMG YES !! SO HAWT!! DO ME HARD DADDY!! TELL ME MORE ABOUT HOW SCARY AND INTIMIDATING YOU ARE!!

“Why didn’t you fight back right away? Why did you allow him to touch you for as long as he did?” 

My hands have begun to shake and I grip them, hard. 

“You don’t know anything about me.” 

“And yet you claim to know me so well.” 

I clench my jaw, not trusting myself to speak.

“At least I’m honest,” he adds. 

“You just agreed you’re a liar!” 

He raises his eyebrows. “At least I’m honest about being a liar.” 

“How DARE you base your opinion of me on the things I’ve said and done against you? I’m doing all of this BECAUSE I CARE ABOUT YOU, CAN’T YOU TELL? You, on the other hand, enjoy HURTING PEOPLE as much as I do, which I’m assuming based on my limited understanding of your freak ability!”

UNGH, yes, OWN ME IN VERBAL ARGUMENTS, WARNER DADS. I LOVE IT WHEN MEN TELL ME HOW I FEEL AND HOW WRONG I AM ABOUT THEIR VERY EVIDENT AND OBVIOUS ABUSE OF ME! 

God I’m so wet.

Juliette asks why he needs her if he’s such a cool dude who loves murder, and we can’t have any proper plot yet so he doesn’t tell her. Instead, he gazes into her eyes and she’s completely disarmed and mesmerized.

#relationshipgoals

“Why can’t I sleep in my own room?” 

He gets to his feet. Dusts off his pants for no real reason. “Because I want you to stay here.”

Then why’d you give her her own room, you waste of space?

Oh I mean YES CONTROL MY EVERY MOVE DADDY.

Chapter 15

*shakes head* Oof, that was a bad one. I think I was possessed?

Juliette flashbacks about how she considered killing herself, but always “had hope” that if she were a “good girl”, people would start to love her.

This book thinks it can handle suicide, does it? Jesus Christ.

Warner Bros. wakes her up. He’s sitting at the foot of the bed, but Juliette describes his breath and says she can feel it on her face.

How ... long is this boy?

I look up. His eyes are such a strange shade of green: bright, crystal clear, piercing in the most alarming way. 

His hair is thick, the richest slice of gold; his frame is lean and unassuming, but his grip is effortlessly strong.

It’s funny how fans seem to think that you’re not supposed to like Warner until his redemption arc or whatever, but even when he is being an asshole the narrative clearly portrays him as attractive and desirable.

It doesn’t even make any sense for Juliette to be this horny for him, especially since she claims to hate him, but I guess how else can you let the reader know that he’s supposed to be super hot and dangerous and Damaged™?

The author already wants you to find him alluring despite -- or even because of -- the shit he does to Juliette.

It’s time for Juliette to head back to her room. Idk why Warner didn’t just ... carry her there in the first place, or why he needed her to stay in his room just to sleep until he woke her up to walk her back to her room. It makes no sense??

Oh, so this could happen, I suppose:

There are even more soldiers here than there are on my floor. Each is equipped with at least 4 different kinds of guns, some slung around their necks, some strapped to their belts. All of them betray a look of terror when they see my face. It flashes in and out of their features so quickly I might’ve missed it, but it’s obvious enough: everyone grips their weapons a little tighter as I walk by. 

Warner seems pleased. 

“Their fear will work in your favor,” he whispers in my ear.

*sigh*

Listen. I’m all about power fantasies, especially power fantasies for teenage girls.

But you’re telling me that grown-ass, well-fed, trained men with FOUR GUNS EACH, are all scared shitless of some starved, scared teenager?

I know she can hurt people with her Bad Touch, but they have A BILLION GUNS. 

GTFO with this crap, Tahereh. I don’t buy this for one second. 

Juliette only now pieces together that Warner Bros. wanted her to hurt Jenkins so that people would know to fear her, and she’s scandalized by it. 

Ya know, for someone who notices the smell of Warner Bros.’ breath several feet away and waxes poetic about how she’s a shattered raindrop, she sure is pretty fucking stupid. 

Why is she surprised that a guy who admitted to murdering people to instill fear is willing to murder people to instill fear? This was literally one chapter ago. 

I’m backed into the far edge of this glass receptacle and I’m suddenly nervous. His hands are holding my arms and his lips are dangerously close to my face. His gaze is locked into mine, his eyes flashing; dangerous.

[...]

His eyelashes are like individual threads of spun gold lit on fire. I almost want to touch them.

[...]

He closes the last few inches between us and my words fall to the floor. I can’t breathe. The tension in his entire body is so intense it’s nearly palpable and I think my muscles have begun to freeze. “You are naive,” he says to me, his voice harsh, low, a grating whisper against my skin.

It’s written like this yet I’m supposed to believe we’re not supposed to find him hot? That Juliette hates him? Come on. 

Warner says that he’s doing this for her best, so that people realize her power and learn to fear her instead of hurting her. 

Yeah, remember all those other humans who feared her but still hurt her? Those people that he ordered to hurt her? I guess they don’t exist now. 

Hey, idiot, why did you let your soldiers manhandle her before if you want people to fear her? Don’t you think they’ll spread the word that she’s not some monster but a skinny-ass teenager with weird powers? If they can avoid those powers by wearing gloves, I think people will be pretty fucking charmed by her attempts at being scary.

Honestly most of their conversations feel like the author having a basic faux-philosophical wank about human nature, except it happens between two edgy teenagers who sound like they’re reading off quotes from a Pinterest board. 

Whatever. Warner Bros. orders Juliette to wear a dress (”I don’t like dresses.” Of course you don’t you Not Like Other Girls Girl, you) and leaves. 

And ZOMG! ADAM IS THERE.

Oh Adam. 

Adam who now knows exactly what I’m capable of. 

My heart is a water balloon exploding in my chest.

On one side we have lackadaisical ennui. On the other there’s buckets for eyes and water ballons exploding. 

Consistent tone who?

Adam acts all weird and Juliette concludes that Warner has been beating or torturing him to punish Juliette.

Great. I know that Warner will turn out to be a good guy and Adam will turn out to be a bad guy, so I really don’t know what this is supposed to accomplish.

Is Warner Bros. supposed to be real spooky? If so, why does Juliette practically flood the room every time Warner Bros. speaks or does anything? 

“The purple dress,” he says, his voice broken and a little breathy like it hurts to inhale. I have to wring my hands to keep from running to him. “Wear the purple dress.” He coughs. “Juliette.” 

I will be the perfect mannequin.

That was easy.

[riobastayem-blog]

Dream Diary 9

Never drink and dream, kids.  The following story is based on the events of 7 hours made of 80% sleep and 20% pain. I was out drinking and came home at about 6 am. But for some reason both my wrists and my left upper arm were hurting like crazy the whole time so I woke up every few hours or so.  From this ordeal a mashup of stupid shit was born. I tried to write it in a way that it makes at least a bit of sense but yea, see for yourself.

Like every day the headquarters of the city police are brimming with commotion, screams of guilt and innocence and the smell of coffee and donuts. Although I have come to terms with the hectic of my profession as a police detective in my years of service, today feels different. And I soon find out why. Someone has kidnapped my partner. To my knowledge he was investigating the disappearance of a certain mob boss. But nobody has heard from him since yesterday. So naturally I take it upon myself to search for him. Following the clues he has written down in his investigation notes I soon arrive at a pier where he believed the mob boss or at least some of his goons to hide. I step into the little hut on the pier and have to hold my hand to my mouth to keep me from vomiting up my breakfast. The mutilated corpses litter the ground and black is splattered on the walls. I have seen some fucked up shit in my time but this takes the cake. It looks like a huge beast has squashed and ripped apart a whole family. In the midst of blood and innards I spot an intact human body. It’s my partner! He’s bound to the wall but seems to be alive and well. Charles! I wade through the swamp of death towards him. You’re here! Charles calls out to me. I thought this would be my grave. Don’t worry, old friend. I’d never let you die in such a disgusting place.  I say as I loosen his bonds. Then I ask him. What happened here? Charles shakes his head. It was horrible. The scene shifts to a flashback from last night. Charles arrives at the pier. He walks up to the hut when suddenly someone knocks him out from behind. A few minutes later he wakes up inside the hut bound to the wall. 4 men are standing in front of him. Caught this one snooping around. Says one of the men to the others. Nice job. Says another. But what do we do with him? That’s for the boss to decide. Right on cue a voice, a deep, dark and terrible voice, from outside of Charles’ view says. Doctor…Look at what you have done. The man on the far left turns his head to where the voice comes from. Is everything alright? He asks. The terrible voice talks again. You tell me… The doctor walks into the room behind Charles and says proudly. Very satisfactory. I must admit. My best work by far. You call this satisfaction? The terrible voice growls. Wait what are you doing- The doctor screams and Charles hears flesh being squashed and bones being broken. Boss? Says a henchman. He nods towards a one of his comrades and together they enter the other room. What the fuck? Boss what did he do to you? No! Boss wait! Argh. Another squashing sound but this time the men come back. They stagger into the main room of the hut. Or rather one of them staggers because the other has been shoved through him like a spear. Blood spills from the walking man’s mouth as he tries to say something. Then both of them are torn apart by someone behind them. Charles can’t believe what he is seeing. The creature looks like someone took the torso of a puppet and stitched arms, legs and a head to it. Although the arms and legs look like a child tried to mold a human out of clay. They are horribly disfigured, thick flesh stakes. And the head only consists of one giant eye and a small mouth with sharp teeth. It’s a downright monstrosity. B-boss? Stammers the last henchman. Is…is that you? The monster growls and slowly walks up to the last man. Boss. Please. Don’t do this. I-. The flash stakes grab the sides of the man and slowly push. B-boss. Noooo! Charles looks away as the monster squashes the last henchman. He looks back up only to see the monster staring right at him with his giant eye. For a moment it just stands there. Then it turns around and leaves. I can’t believe what Charles is telling me. That doctor did something horrible to him, man. He ends his story. We need to find him before something really bad happens. I nod slowly. Then I say. Charles, you know that this sounds too crazy to be real? I mean, I believe you but the commissioner won’t. He grabs my arm and stares into my eyes. I saw it, man. It is real. What else could do this? He points his arm at the destruction around us. I don’t know, Charles. I admit. I take him back to headquarters and leave him in the care of more qualified personnel. I really believe Charles, but it will be impossible to convince the commissioner to put someone on the case. He will just say a bear or something ripped these people apart and Charles was lucky enough to be spared. We will just have to see what happens. A young man enters the kitchen of a restaurant. In his hand he carries a piece of paper with orders. Soup…soup… He mutters to himself. His view glides down to the kitchen floor. A lot of ingredients are scattered on the ground. You’re not supposed to be down there. He says. Do we have rats again? Suddenly a noise. Hello? No answer. He is the only one here. The young man takes a broom from the side as his weapon and slowly walks past a kitchen shelf. There is the noise again. It comes from the shelf. Hello? The man whispers and looks at a sack. A weird sack. A fleshy looking sack. Hello. Says the sack in a terrible voice and opens a giant eye. The man staggers backwards and the sack plummets to the ground. It unfolds itself into a horrific fleshy thing. What. What are you? Asks the young man in a shaking voice. The thing responds. I need a hiding place. The man looks confused. What? Help me find a hiding place and you will be rewarded. The man looks at the door. Chef? He calls out to his boss. You have to- Don’t! Says the thing and grabs the man’s arm with a fleshy stake. The man’s arm breaks like a twig. But before he can scream in agony the thing rips off his head. It sighs. He has really become a monster. The doctor was only supposed to prolong his life. And now he is an abomination. For the first time he looks at himself. His crude arms and legs look like someone mashed body parts together that should never be near each other. And his torso looks like the doctor made it from a mascot suit. He looks around and spots a tray of knifes. Maybe he should just end it here and now. No! This is a mere setback nothing more. If the doctor kept his promise of making him immortal than it does not matter that he has become an abomination. He will rise to the top of the criminal underworld again. With this body or any other. The Gabbo Parade. Every year the citizens celebrate the foundation of their city with a parade. Millions of ballons and people dressed up as the city’s mascot Gabbo. A humanoid lion. But the event everyone anticipates the most is the airplane show. This year it is performed by pop star and pilot Samantha Star. She loves the crowd and the crowd loves her. But what she loves the most is being high up in the air. Sky’s the limit. Her father used to say and she reaches that limit every chance she gets. Making some loops and spins she draws a picture of Gabbo in the sky with her vapor trail. And the crowd cheers. Looking good up there. Samantha hears a voice from her headset. Now get down here, girl. The reporters are waiting. Samantha smiles. Just one more round please. A sigh. And then. Alright. But only this once! Samantha smiles again. You always say that. Maybe fire some of the fireworks while you’re at it. Says the man cuts the connection. Samantha does another few spins and then presses the button for the fireworks on her console. But the lid for the fireworks malfunctions and suddenly the whole backside of the plane is in flames. Oh shit, shit shit! Mayday, mayday! Samantha yells in her mic. Samantha? What the heck is happening? Are you alright? Yea I’m fine. But the fireworks have malfunctioned and the plane is on fire. I can see that. Get out of there, girl. Eject! Samantha’s hand hovers over the eject button. But then she grabs a hold of the steering wheel with both hands and says. No. I’m landing this bird. Are you crazy? Samantha! Don’t do this. She deactivates her headset and concentrates. She can feel the heat behind her getting closer. She has to land. Fast. The nose of the plane tips downwards and the plane dives to the ground. Closer and closer she flies to her certain death. Then in the last moment she tilts the plane back up and rushes over the over the heads of the spectators like a burning phoenix. Getting down was easy but landing without being crushed to death proves to be more difficult. The plane has way too much speed when Samantha arrives at the landing zone. It slithers across the asphalt like a landslide and Samantha realizes she won’t be able to keep the plane in one piece. She turns the steering wheel to the side and the plane crashes into the wall of a building. Samantha’s head knocks against something hard and as her vision fades she thinks. Every landing you can walk away from… Smoke crawls up her nose. She hears glass breaking and as she opens her eyes she sees something small carrying her away from the burning plane. Her eyes close again. Then she feels the asphalt under her face as she is thrown on it. She tries to get up but can’t. Samantha look’s to her burning love and spots a muscular, one-eyed midget in a tuxedo. Did he save her? He waves his cape around and vanishes through a vent in the wall. A midget? I ask the pop star and pilot Samantha Star. Behind her the fire department puts out the flaming plane. And he wore a tuxedo? Asks Charles beside me. Samantha nods her head like a woodpecker. Yes! I tell you, Gabbo saved me! Gabbo? The mascot? You know he isn’t real, right? I look at her head to see if she sustained any damage to it. I am not crazy. He wore a tuxedo but it was not buttoned up well and underneath it looked like Gabbo. She explains. Thank you, for your time, Ms. Star. You should rest now. I say. Fine. Samantha scoffs and we leave her in the care of the medical professionals. What do you think? I ask my partner. Charles looks at me. It’s him. The mob boss. What? Why do you think that? I did not realize it when I first saw him, but his torso looks like Gabbos. His doctor must have fused it with human tissue. I shake my head. That definitely sounds insane. I thought you believed me! Yells Charles. Calm down. I do. About the monster. But Gabbo? The fusion between a human and a puppet? And the mob boss a tuxedo wearing hero? You know that sounds crazy right? Right? Charles stops walking. I know it is him. I can feel it. First the man who got torn apart in the kitchen we were earlier and now this. He is plotting something. I sigh. Okay. Let’s say, you’re right. Suddenly my phone rings. I look at the display and then at Charles. It’s Jemma. I say. Do what you must. Charles shrugs his shoulder. I will investigate further and let you know if I find something. Thanks, you’re the best. I say and run off to my car. I know! Charles shouts after me. I accept the call and say. Hey Jemma, what’s up? Jemma is my childhood friend and not so secret love interest. Everyone including her knows that I like her but so far she never let me act on my feelings. Hey. Can you come and pick me up? I need your help. She says. Is everything alright? I ask. Yea, yea. Everything is fine. I just want to show you something. I hope you’re not busy. Nah. I say. I just talked to Samantha Star about a tuxedo wearing midget but that’s it. What? I’ll explain when I pick you up. I drive to her home and Jemma gets in the car. She tells me to drive to a specific address and on the way I tell her but Charles’ and my case. That sounds super crazy. But awesome. She says after I have finished my story. Too awesome to be true. I mean, I believe Charles but I actually hope he was hallucinating due to the shock. But on the other hand I have no clue what could enter a kitchen undetected and rip some guys head off. And save a woman from a burning plane. Adds Jemma. I don’t think that was him though. I say. What? You think there are two one eyed half-puppet half midget people around? Jemma laughs. I laugh too. Well if you put it that way. We’re here. She says suddenly and I look to the right. We’re still on the highway no buildings or anything around. There he is! Jemma shouts and a man jumps out from a ditch holding something big. From one moment to the other Jemma and the man are out of the car and the big thing is on the passenger seat of my car. It’s a time bomb. What the hell Jemma? I shout still driving. Use the nitro! She yells back. I press a button and then step on the gas pedal with all my might. The time bomb is at 4 seconds. 3 seconds. I pass two trucks. 2 seconds. I jump out of my car and roll on the other side of the rode. Luckily there are no cars there. And they’re probably won’t be any for a long time. Together with my car the bomb explodes and leaves a huge hole in the ground. The two trucks drive straight into the pit. I can hear the squeaking of their tires as they drivers press the brakes with all their might. The first truck comes to a stop but the second truck rams him from behind and pushes him into the hole. The driver of the second truck loses control of his vehicle and falls a few meters to the right into the pit as well. When the dust settles I realize what just transpired. I dial Charles number and tell him what happened. Then I run back to Jemma and the man who are still standing where they left me. I recognize the man as Wilson. One of Jemma’s on and off boyfriends and a petty criminal on multiple occasions. What the fuck was that? I yell at them as I come closer. Was that what you needed help with, Jemma? Blowing up a fucking highway? Or was that just so you could show Wilson your wild side so he would fuck you again? What’s your problem? Asks Jemma. Anger floods into my already red face. What my problem is? You are! You always do stupid shit but this! This is the worst you ever done. And you, mister black man stereotype! What the fuck! Just what the fuck. Calm down, man. It was just a job. Wilson says with a wicked smile. Finally I lose my temper. I grab him by his shirt and pull him closer. Listen to me, you criminal. You may think this is funny and cool. And that someday things will turn up okay and you will get rich and famous or whatever but this is not the case. If you continue to do these thing nothing will get better. It will only get worse. And one day you’ll be dead left in a ditch with regret being the last thing on your mind. Now get out of here before I shoot you in the fucking face. I wouldn’t want Jemma’s fuckboy to get caught. I let go of Wilson and he runs off. Please. Jemma says but I interrupt her. I don’t understand why you hang out with him and frankly I don’t want to know because I can imagine a large reason. But Jemma, you will get yourself killed over that guy. Jemma keeps silent. I sigh. Now go. I can’t drive you home anymore. Take the bus or whatever you can find. Jemma runs after Wilson. As always. A few minutes later Charles arrives with the commissioner and a rescue team for the trucks and their drivers. To my surprise they are both alive although heavily injured. I explain to the commissioner and the rest what happened. Then I check out the trucks the rescue team brought back from the pit. Another surprise awaits me. They are both empty except for a plate of soup in each one. A light broth in the first truck and a brown broth in the second. Thunderbolt! I hear a man yelling the name of our commissioner. It’s a general from our nation’s army. Thunderbolt! Explain yourself. What did your guys do this time? General, what are you doing here? Asks the commissioner. This case of yours has become a matter of national security! Explains the general. National security? Asks Charles. Is this still about Gabbo? The general looks from Thunderbolt to Charles and then back to Thunderbolt. What is he babbling about? While the commissioner explains Charles’ case an idea appears in my mind. I run back to the group and shout. I solved it! I solved the case! Then I woke up. Before you ask, I have no idea who the people in my dream were and I was very surprised that they had names. Normally only people I know from real life or established characters from fiction have names but I guess there is a first time for anything. Speaking of first times, this was the first time that I dreamt different perspectives. Like a movie. That was highly interesting and disturbing. At least when I woke up. During the dream everything makes sense but when you’re awake you think: “Wat?” Also I have no idea why I dreamt this. Although I have to admit I was really intrigued in the end about what I believed to have found out but sadly my subconscious did not think to share this information with me.

[rndomdragon]

Chocolate Bunnies -part 3 of 4

(Ao3 -> http://archiveofourown.org/works/10634205/chapters/23601789) - "Darlin, wake up. Happy Easter." McCree placed a kiss on top of Hanzo's head, only to have his own head smacked away. "Ow! What was that for?" "Go back to sleep, McCree. It's our day off." Hanzo turned around, hogging all the blankets to himself on their shared bed. "That ain't nice. Well I'm going out. Reyes probably got some wild party going on." He got up and shuffled to the washroom, giving his scruffy beard a mini trim then pulling a shirt over his head and put some pants on. He took one one step out the door and- bam! He was hit in the face with confetti. "What in the world?" A piece of paper hung from an exploded canister above his head that read: "Come to the recreational room for the egg hunt! Happy Easter! -the little shits." His best guess was that the canister was rigged to shoot confetti at him when the door opened. "Hey Hanzo, you might want to come see this. Genji's probably involved in this." - "Bastion, my friend," Zenyatta called to the other omnic. "I just received word from Genji that there is a party that we were invited to. Let us go." "01000001 01110010 01100101 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00100000 01110011 01110101 01110010 01100101 00111111?" "Yes of course I am. Genji would never put either of us in harm's way." He headed toward the door of their shared room and turned the door handle. "Come on." "01001110 01101111," Bastion beeped frantically. "00100000 01110111 01100001 01110100 01100011 01101000 00100000 01101111 01110101 01110100!" "Nonsense." Zenyatta pushed the door open with Bastion beeping warnings behind him. Confetti showered down upon him. "Ah, what a pleasant surprise! No fear Bastion. This is not ment to harm us." "01010111 01101000 01100001 01110100 00100111 01110011 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100001 01110100 00111111?" The other omnic pointed to a piece of paper hanging from the ceiling. "It reads 'Come to the recreational room for the egg hunt! Happy Easter!' It sounds fun." "01001001 00100000 01000001 01001101 00100000 01101111 01101110 01101100 01111001 00100000 01100111 01101111 01101001 01101110 01100111 00100000 01101001 01100110 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00100000 01100001 01110010 01100101." "Of course. After you." - "Hm." Reinhardt looked over at Ana, who was frowning in thought at the tablet in her hands. "Is something the matter?" "No. Nothing's wrong." Ana looked up at him with a strange look in her eye. "Fareeha just told me that there's something dangerous outside our room. I'm going to check it out." "What? No!" Reinhardt got to his feet, puffing his chest out proudly. "Allow me!" He marched over to their extra large door and swung it open with full force. Nothing was there. He looked around confused, until he heard the multiple pops going off, followed by a shower of confetti raining down on his head. "What is this?" He looked back at Ana who was trying to cover her smile with a hand. "It looks like we are invited to a party." She pointed to the note hanging from the door. He looked at her, dumbstruck as she flipped over her tablet, showing the message from Fareeha that read: "I've got something out the door that will scare our big lion." - //chatroom.private server 33.43. connection secure\\ [[Opening: 8:46am]] rabbit: set ups done in the rec room rabbit: what about the hunt sonic: yes ;) dr.eggman: ive tagged most of the eggs locations dr.eggman: wtf is my name? rabbit: lol [\\ dr.eggman changed their name to Sombra //] Sombra: why the fuck does everyone have a code name? rabbit: it might not be safe rabbit: u know hackers and stuff Sombra: dude Sombra: r u still salty? froggy: GUYS froggy: no fighting pls sparrow: get to positions sparrow: i need help with package Sombra: wtf is package edgelord: im coming. edgelord: if u damage it ill kill u. Sombra: and why isnt everyones name capped? rabbit: u would know if u payed attention sparrow: GUYS THEY R HERE sparrow: WHREE IS EVERYONE Sombra: just go urself sparrow: i sparrow: i cant sonic: why not?? XD sparrow: pls lena sparrow: dont do this sonic: no Sombra: ? bird: Don't worry. Angela and I are here. angel: We'll stall for time. sonic: wait for me sonic: ill b there [[Closure: 8:52am]] - McCree walked into the recreational room, not knowing what to expect. He knew for sure that Reyes wouldn't have missed an opportunity to help with the party, but when he stepped into the room, he was shocked. Usually Reyes would go over the top, hanging a huge inflatable ballon on the ceiling, or covering the lights with some kind of film to make the room all red. But everything looked normal. Everything was normal. Streamers hung off the ceiling, tables were covered with table cloth. Food was placed neatly in rows, next to baskets that he assumed were for the egg hunt. Not a single thing looked out of place. That was what scared him the most. Or perhaps Reyes had changed. As Reaper, he probably didn't celebrate a lot of parties back in Talon. Maybe he had lost his edge. Very unlikely, though. He saw Soldier 76 looking around, his eyes scanning the ceiling and the floors, looking for anything that seemed out of place. Guess he didn't feel this was right either. Angela and Fareeha smiled at them from the centre of the room. Angela, as always, he couldn't read, but Fareeha had that look on her face. The one where something big was about to happen. It was unsettling. More people filled into the room, and he noticed that most of them seemed to be covered in confetti as well. Looks like he wasn't the only one who got special treatment. "Good morning!" Everyone looked around to see who had spoken. Tracer stood at the door, a pair of orange bunny ears shoved into her wind blown hair. "You all here for the Easter egg hunt, eh?" She walked to the table with the baskets. "Gather around. Angela here will explain the rules." "Okay, so, first things first. No weapons or explosives. This is a friendly competition." Junkrat whined in the background. Ever the diplomat, Angela was. Always looking out for other people, McCree thought. He wished more people were like her, himself included. He let her voice fade into the background as he bent down to look under the table. There must be something they were hiding. "Jesse," Hanzo spoke from behind him. "What are you doing?" "What?" He tried to get up too fast, bumping his head on the table. "Ow! I was just looking for something-" he didn't want to embarrass himself in front of Hanzo. "That I dropped." "Oh. Let me help." His boyfriend bent down as well, squatting down next to him. "Oh, no, no. It's okay, I found it." McCree quickly got up putting his hat back on his head. "Yeah, um- the Easter hunt thing? You wanna do it together?" "If you want to." "Great." McCree pulled his hat down to cover his red face. He was just being paranoid. Too many years living on the run. Just focus on the egg hunt. "We still need two more people in our team, then," Hanzo sighed, looking around the room. "What?" He looked at McCree, his face impassive. "Angela said the rules were that we are to be in teams of four to six. Were you not listening?" "Would ya be a darlin' and tell me them again?" Hanzo sighed. "We have five minutes to pick a team then an hour to find as many eggs as we can. No stealing from other teams and have fun." "Don't forget that the team with most eggs win," Zenyatta spoke from the side. There was an awkward pause between the two groups before the omnic spoke up again. "Bastion and I are two team members short. Could we perhaps join teams?" "That's a mighty fine idea." He looks over to Hanzo. "Is that okay with you, honey?" "Yes." "Great! Now we got ourselves a team!" McCree paused. "We're missing something… a team name!" Bastion raises their hand, looking between all of them. "01001000 01101111 01110111 00100000 01100001 01100010 01101111 01110101 01110100 '01001110 01100001 01110100 01110101 01110010 01100101 00100000 01100010 01110101 01100100 01100100 01101001 01100101 01110011'?" "I think that is a wonderful name, Bastion," Zenyatta complements, nodding his head. "Are you two okay with that?" "Um… sure?" McCree stared back at them, dumbfounded. He looked at Hanzo but he just shrugged. "Alright, Nature Buddies, it is!" Zenyatta floated away to retrieve a basket. "Nature buddies? What, no!" McCree started after Zenyatta when Bastion stepped in front of him and let out an angry beep, their light turned red. "Okay, okay jeez. Nature buddies it is." - "Symmetra, will you be in a group with me?" She looked down at Mei, the shorter woman smiling hopefully at her. "Of course." She looked around at the other people getting together as a group. "We would still need two more people for our group to be complete." "Oh, Zarya there is alone. Maybe we should ask her!" Mei walked over to the Russian with a smile on her face. In a matter of seconds, the small Chinese woman came back holding the hand of a red-faced Zarya. "We would still need one more person." Symmetra frowned, looking around. Who else would join them? "Oi, girly! Lookin' for a group?" A loud voice with an Australian accent cut through the air, making her wince. "Me and Roady need one and ya look short a person." Symmetra opened her mouth to object, but Mei answered before her. "Of course! We would love to have you guys!" No. She wouldn't stand for this. How could they possibly work together? The junkers would just put her off balance. They looked so dirty and unclean. What if they accidentally brushed against her? The thought made her shiver. "I'll be my pleasure to work with you." The skinnier junker took her hand and kissed it. Her mouth fell open in shock, and he winked at her, moving away to retrieve a basket. It was utterly disgusting, the place where his lips made contact with her hand. Symmetra urged to wash it off or at least rub the spot with her hand. She was disgusted, yet, why were her cheeks flushed red? - //chatroom.private server 33.43. connection secure\\ [[Opening: 8:59am]] sonic: race about to start sonic: be ready to move sparrow: ok sparrow: reaps is here w me rabbit: dont screw this up genju rabbit: dont get seen sparrow: believe me I dont wanna Sombra: the trackers on the baskets r working Sombra: race started froggy: get movin [[Closure: 9:02am]] - "Found one!" Reinhardt smiled, picking a small pink plastic egg up in his hand. He turned back to the rest of the group, proudly placing it into the basket in Soldier 76's hands. He was so proud right up to the point where 'little' Fareeha and Angela came floating out of the sky, their arms filled with little multicoloured eggs. "We found some hidden in the cliff face." "That's my daughter," Ana beamed, smiling at the two woman. "Don't know about you two, but our victory looks quite assured to me with these two on our side." Soldier laughed and patted him on the back before stepping forward to collect the eggs from Fareeha and Angela. He met the younger Amari's eye, seeing the coy smile playing on her face. As Hana would say, game on. - "Where shall we go first?" McCree asked, scanning the outside of the building. "You think they put 'em on the roof?" "I'll go check." Hanzo started up the side of the building, swiftly moving up like a spider. "Hanzo! Wait up!" McCree called, trying to find a purchase on the wall. How did he do this? Hanzo looked back down at him, amused. "Are you sure about that?" "Yeah. I used to climb trees taller than this base when I was younger! If you could do it, so can I." McCree gripped onto a pipe leading toward a water drain and shimmied upward, his knuckles turning white. He could feel Hanzo watching him from above and Zenyatta and Bastion watching him from below, but he ignored their stares, trying to gain height. "We'll look on the ground level," Zenyatta called from bellow, amusement clear in his voice. "You two have fun up there." "Sure!" He smiled and looked down at the two omnics, and that was when he realized how high he really was. "01000100 01101111 01101110 00100111 01110100 00100000 01100110 01100001 01101100 01101100 00100001!" Bastion beeped. The pipe he was holding onto seemed to be slippery and swaying with the wind. He got so dizzy, so high up. He felt his hand sweating and slipped, his cybernetic hand the only thing keeping him from plummeting to his death. "Jesse!" Hanzo's voice called him back to the present. He glanced up at him. "Look at me. Don't look down. You're half way there already." McCree swallowed nervously and gripped onto the pipe again, slowly inching his way up. It seemed like forever until he reached the edge of the roof, Hanzo's firm hand gripping onto his arm. He let himself be dragged onto the roof then lay there, panting. "Jesse?" Hanzo poked his side, concern laces into his voice. "I'm okay." McCree opened one eye and turned his head to look at him. "Did we at least get what we came here for?" "Yes." Hanzo held up one green egg in front of his face. "Great. All that for one little egg." He rolled over and smiled lazily at Hanzo. "I am never doing that ever again." "Oh, Jesse." Hanzo smiled cruelly at him. "We still have to go down." - //chatroom.private server 33.43. connection secure\\ [[Opening: 9:23am]] rabbit: check in guys sonic: so far so good angel: Jack is still suspicious of something happening. bird: Don't worry about it. We'll keep him unaware. sparrow: havent been spotted yet sparrow: but its slow going //whisper: edgelord: btw tracer. //whisper: sonic: ye? //whisper: edgelord: wtf did u make him wear? //whisper: edgelord: its bad. //whisper: sonic: i thought it suited him real nice :"( sparrow: well we still have lik 30min sparrow: so were good sonic: also winston isnt participating sonic: or widowmaker cuz sombra and reaps r not doing it with her angel: Torbjörn wants to do it himself. He quit our team. rabbit: sounds good rabbit: lucio u done the dj booth froggy: yep rabbit: okie rabbit: countin on yall [[Closure: 9:31]] - Despite their grubby appearance, the junkers were quite useful. They seemingly knew all the hiding places, nooks and crannies inside and around the base. When she questioned him, he merely replied, with a glint in his eye, that he had a lot of treasure to hide. "Gold," Junkrat told her. "I ain't just a wanted criminal for my good looks." He winked at her and sent her into a blushing mess. Symmetra walked alongside Mei and Zarya, the two quietly talking together. She had know for some time that the two were very close, but only now did she really feel the closeness between the them. The term she believed Hana would have used was 'third-wheeling'. She quickened her pace until she was in-step with Junkrat. "Hey there lil' Sheila." He grinned at her, showing his crooked teeth. "How ya doin' this fine day?" "What did you call me?" Symmetra frowned, not understanding the slang term he used. She didn't know if it was an insult or not. "Ah, nothin'. Just a nickname from my 'ol country." They continued to walk in a peaceful silence until she spoke up and interrupted, which was unusual for her to do. "Your home country? Where is that?" "Me? Oh, Roady and I both come from Australia, where the wild things grow!" He smiled at her again. "Ooh! Another egg!" He picked a blue one up, half hidden in a bush, and put it into the basket Roadhog was holding. "So where did ya come from? Some fancy palace up north where it snows all year long?" "India." Symmetra paused, not sure if she should go on. "The place I lived in did seem like a palace at the time, very different than the slums I lived in before Vishkar picked me up." Thinking about her past kicked up dreadful memories. Ones of doubt and fear of losing everything she ever had. Ones of betrayal towards the company that had literally raised her. She had long ago left the organization to join Overwatch, but looking back at her past always seemed to bring the worst things to the present. "Eh, we gonna win this egg thingy or what?" The junker seemed to notice her change in mood and tried to divert her thoughts. "'Cause I only came because there was gonna be a prize at the end, right Roady?" The larger man behind him let out a grunt. "And those two lovebirds ain't helpin' us one bit, so why don't ya summon yer teleportin' sorcery stuff and get a move on-" he paused- "please?" Symmetra smiled her appreciation at him and let out a quiet huff of laughter. "It isn't much sorcery, than it is science." She formed a teleporter in her mind, and wove it out with her hands, activating her cybernetic arm. "The path is open. Let us go." -