goin fishing

Little Letters 1: The First Date

Hey guys!!! This is the first of many one-shots that go along with my Letters from War Fic!!

You can read Letters from War here: 1 | 2 | 3

You can also read all parts here

Lucy was a nervous wreck. It had been a few weeks since Natsu was released from the hospital. She had seen him almost every day since, she either went to his brothers home and hung out with there as Zeref worked or Natsu was dropped off at her house for the day. Since she worked at home it worked out for the both of them. He was getting better walking on his crutches, but he still needed someone with him during the day. Or at least that’s what Dr. Zeref said.

She tugged on her dress, not sure if her cleavage was too much or not enough. It was a mint green sleeveless summer dress. A little keyhole opening was right below her breasts. Strappy tan sandals felt much better than the heels Levy tried to make her wear.

She ran back to the bathroom to touch up on her makeup, again. Tonight was special. It was their first date.

She was surprised when he asked, and not because she didn’t want to. She was so excited for it! She just thought he might wait until he got his prosthetic leg first. He was in the fitting process for it but it would still be months until he was on his own feet.

He didn’t want to wait that long, and he didn’t want her to wait either. So a few days ago he asked her to dinner.

So here she was, as nervous as a teenager going on a date for the first time.

“GAHH!” Lucy almost fell walking into the living room, “Plue!”


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allons-ytohogwarts  asked:

I completely respect that- It's no problem! How about #41, 43, or 46. I'll take any of those :) If that's okay

#13 The One With The Reaper

3000 words, Teen, #41 - Ghost/Living Person AU (But actually Grim Reaper/Not Supposed To Be Dead Person AU)

Annual review had come early, it seemed.

“You’re one soul away from your quota. Still. It’s been twenty years.”

The unembodied voice seemed to come from the ceiling, but he knew that was an illusion. There was no up. There was only down, and down went reaaaaaally far down, the pits of hell down, and Satan was projecting, which meant he was pissed.

"It’s not that difficult,” continued the voice, as if it were speaking to a very small, or perhaps very dumb child, “You serve your time and reap a thousand souls, and then you go back to the land of the living anew. What’s your problem?”

One thousand souls. He’d been slacking. It was just hard. People always had excuses and sob stories and he was a soft touch when it came to that sort of thing. Tears undid him. He let them off easy, got them off on technicalities. He was going to be a grim reaper for centuries yet at this rate. His friends covered for him, taking up the slack - Romana was a stickler, and the Master practically a psychopath who kept deferring his reinstatement to the land of flesh and blood because he enjoyed reaping, and frankly, no one wanted that guy running around on earth wreaking havoc among the living anyway.

Still, he knew he was pushing it.

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Anonymous: I’ve got some prompt ideas if you don’t mind. Hasil takes sally ann fishing or teaches her how to swim. Thanks

Anonymous:  Hasil teaches sally ann how to swim 

(Maybe these are from the same Anon, though? It’s hard to tell…)

So I spoke incorrectly before… this ficlet is actually going to be the last bit of the “Sally-Ann goes up the mountain” story line… it seemed to fit so perfectly with where the narrative was going, so I couldn’t help but add it in. 

The day couldn’t have been more beautiful: warm, but with enough of a breeze to cool their bodies as they made their way down the side of the mountain. She seemed to be finding the climb down easier than the climb up, but still, he kept his eye on her, watching for any sign of fatigue or discomfort. He had been planning on stopping about half-way through, just for a short break, but as they walked an idea began to form in his head, a way to share one last part of his world with her before she went back home.

Sunlight filtered through the trees, casting everything in gold and shadow, as they followed the path of a shallow ravine. Rocks and stray tree roots jutted out between their feet, but he was cautious, shepherding the two of them slowly and carefully, making sure that they followed the least obstructed path. And within a few minutes, they were close enough that he could hear the sound of the water. It became more insistent, that elemental collision of rock and water, until at last the view opened up and they could look upon the broad expanse of it, the sparkling pool that formed at the bottom of the ravine as it met with a wide, steep formation of earth. The water was clear to the bottom, originating from somewhere deep in the mountain, the light of the sun reflecting off the tiny ripples of the top, so brilliant it was nearly blinding. It didn’t go very deep – just up to his chest – but it looked cool and refreshing, especially in the mid-day warmth, and he could feel his pace slightly quickening as they inched towards the waterline. 

“Are we stoppin’?” she asked, as they finally reached the edge. 

“Thought we coul’ use a rest,” he said, sidling up next to her as she looked out over the water. “An’ I wanted ta show ya this.”

“It’s beautiful,” she said, turning her face up towards him.

“One a’ my fav’rite places on th’ mountain.” He smiled a little, mostly to himself, remembering all the times he had come here as a boy, laughing and running and wiling away the day in the pleasures of being young and carefree. “We’d come here in th’ summer, all a’ us young’uns, playin’ in th’ water an’ up in th’ trees ‘til it got dark. ‘S where I learned ta swim, an’ ta fish.”

“You can fish here?” 

“Yeah,” he said, looking down at her and smiling, a thought taking rough shape in his mind. “In fact, I coul’ teach ya righ’ now how it’s done.”

“Hasil, I know how to fish,” she countered, crossing her arms over her chest, even as her mouth was curled in amusement. “Plus, you don’t got a pole. How’re you goin’ to fish without that?”

“That ain’t th’ way we fish up here,” he said, a wide grin blossoming across his face. “Here, I’s gon’ show ya.” Turning away from her slightly – he wasn’t sure why, as she had seen just about every bit of him already – he pulled his shirt up and over his head and then tossed it on the ground. Shucking off his boots and socks, he then unclasped his belt and unknotted the ties on his kilt, leaving him in nothing but his drawers. And then he dropped those, too. 

Glancing back at her briefly – and enjoying the slight look of shock appearing on her face – he waded out into the water, relishing the chilly tendrils as they washed over his skin. There was a spot about two-thirds of the way over where the water was near waist-high, a place where the current flowed between two submerged rocks. Once he found it, he reached down, feeling around for the spot where the water moved more quickly past his fingers. He formed a loose triangle, his thumbs and the first two fingers of his hands just barely touching. The other two fingers of his right hand reached out towards nothing, of course, and it was only then he realized that he hadn’t tried this out since that day with Big Foster and the axe. Pushing that aside – he wasn’t about to let anything put a damper on his mood today – he focused instead on the motion of the water, on the tiny fluctuations in its direction, his eyes narrowed in on the space where the current had its origin.

“I don’t see any fish, Hasil,” he heard her say from across the creek. 

“Jus’ you wait,” he replied. “An’ I ain’t sung th’ fishin’ song yet…”

“There’s a song?” she asked incredulously.

“Yeah, ya gotta sing it,” he said, not taking his eyes off the ripples of the water. “Or else th’ fish don’t know ta come out.”

He cleared his throat a little; he knew he didn’t have the best voice on the mountain, but this was something that had to be done if he had any hope of catching something big enough to show her. The sound that began to emerge from the back of his throat was gravelly and low, nearly half-choked, and quiet enough so that hopefully she wouldn’t find too much cause to laugh at him.

“That ol’ jackfish swimmin’ up th’ stream
An’ I asked that jackfish what did he mean…”

He knew it must seem strange to her, what he was doing, but he knew the song would work its ways, calling out to the fish as it somehow always did.

“I grabbed that jackfish by the snout
An’ took that jackfish th’ wrong side out…”

The last bit of the song was odd, with words Hasil didn’t really understand, but he knew it was important to get them out correctly. He was still trying to pay attention to the water, though, so they came out of his mouth almost as a whisper, barely set to the melody.

“Oh lor’ de lor’ gal, sindy, sindy
Lor’ de lor’, sindy, sue…”

For a moment, there was nothing, only the gentle press of the current against his fingertips, but then he saw a flash of shadow and movement, felt an imperceptible shift in the fluttering of the water. He waited only the briefest of seconds before clasping his hands together, feeling something solid and cold in between them, and then he raised his prize up, out of the creek, the slippery creature caught between his palms doing its best to escape him. 

His smile flashed wildly as he turned towards her, the fish still flopping about in his grasp, his moment of triumph now complete as he caught her look of total astonishment. He threw the fish back in the water – he wasn’t going to eat it, so there wasn’t any point in making it suffer any longer – and then he looked back towards her, cocking his head to the side, beckoning her with his hand. 

“C’mon… now ‘s yur turn…”

“Hasil, I’m not comin’ out there,” she protested. “I’m not gettin’ my clothes wet.”

“Then take ‘em off,” he replied. “Ya can at leas’ wear those underthings ya got on.”

She seemed to consider this for a moment, all sorts of thoughts seemingly running through her head as she stood on the waterline.

“Is there anybody else out here? Anyone but the two of us?”

“Nah,” he answered, knowing for a fact that there was little chance anyone would come upon them. One of his Shay cousins had run the gauntlet two days ago and today most of the clan was gathering to help build the new couple a cabin. It would take all of the morning and most of the afternoon to finish it, leaving little time for anyone to take a trip down to the creek. 

“Uh, okay,” she said, as she pulled off her shirt and then unzipped the front of her shorts. 

Hasil had seen Sally-Ann in various states of undress, of course, and on a number of occasions wearing nothing at all. Still, it never ceased to astonish him, her skin, the curves of her body – all of her, really – and knowing that she allowed him touch her, that she seemed to like it… well, he could never quite push past how miraculous it all was to him. 

She carefully made her way into the water, her feet looking for purchase along the slippery surface, until she finally reached him, the water reaching to her ribcage. 

“It’s cold,” she murmured.

“C’mere, then,” he said, pulling his arms around her. There were goosebumps across her forearms and along the tops of her shoulders, and all he could think to do was rub his hands against her skin, in the hopes of warming her up. 

“Ya ready, now?” he asked, catching her gaze and offering her an expectant smile. “Time fer yer firs’ fishin’ less’n on th’ mountain. Ya r’member th’ song?”

“Mmmm-mmm,” she said, shaking her head.

He leaned over, his lips barely grazing her ear. “Oh lor’ de lor’ gal,” he whispered in a half-song, his breath soft against her neck. “Lor’ de lor’…” She pressed closer against him, her skin warm and flushed against his own, the chill from the water apparently all but forgotten. 

He Finds Out You're A Mermaid

Michael: u wer abt tod o the sexies when he laies u dwn on hos bed. he puls ur pants of n he see ur tail!!! “omg where ur vagina??” he ask. “i mermaid.” u whipsr, cryin. “it ok, jsut give me vagine.” mikel say. u nod, revelang a mervagena. “wowie!” he screch, goin for fish vageina.

Calum: yr tail onle cam eout in watr, so wen u r askd to go to beech, u kinda creepied out. clamu mkes u go in wtrr and you fal to botom of ochean, ur tail flppong. “what the fuck is this” calmu pukes in wter, instntly killin ur fish fronds. “omg wtf cal!!!!” u screm, amkin his ears bled becau ur achtuly a siren omg!!!

Ashton: ash luvd u for who yu wer, nd he alawys rmndd u of it. 1 dey, u sho him ur tail n he hugs u. putin his mowth to ur ear, he wishsper, “this is pretty fukin disgooSTING” wit this, he pors veggimit, a mermaids weaknis, on ur tail. half ur body burns awey.

Luke: u new luek was uncomfytabl when he sa ur tail, but he tri to covr it wih relly akward laugh. he ben laughig for three hours. “calm down pls luke” u say, ur taul vrushing againt his leg. “oH MY GOOD LORD SATAN!!!!!!!!” he screexhes and thunder erputs in sky. ps luke is satans bitch

creepie-treattricker  asked:

"Hey Bruce! Its been quite a while hasn't it? Merry Christmas BTW and of course the really obvious questions. What happened around here since last time i saw you?"

“Hello, lil’ sheila! Happy Christmas to ye, too! Been awhile since I’ve seen ye, eh? Well, reckon just the norm’s been goin’ on. The reef fish are slowly startin’ to see me as protection and not a threat. ‘ow ‘bout you?”