i might like the golden one better

5

“Trixx N Treats”

‘…Though the Spooktober month may have passed, some of us still got plenty of Halloween candy to finish…’


A belated Halloween squigglustration just in time for Spooktember featuring my favourite fox kwami, Trixx from the Miraculous K-SQUAD. Since I’m Trinidadian and Halloween isn’t really a national holiday or  a big deal in my part of the world, that gives me the golden opportunity to celebrate it whenever I want, right?
So I’m continuing the spooky fun in November.

I am quite pleased with how this turned out. Very pleased. It is one of the rare occasions where you start off with a rough concept and the end product is exactly, or even better than you originally envisioned. Another personal best ♥


Artsy Trivia:

As some of you who follow my ML squiggs might know, I sometimes like to cosplay the kwamis in costumes inspired by characters from other series.
Can you guess who Trixx dressed as for this year’s Halloween?
I’ll give you small hint. It’s not Renard Rouge but it is another fox-themed super hero from a popular magical girl series just like Miraculous.

Think you might have the answer? Take a guess and leave a comment if you think you know.


As always, I hope everyone enjoys this week’s newest squiggle art brought to you by the squiggle meister. Til my next awesometastic piece, staaay tune for more precious star kids!  (ノ◕ヮ◕)ノ*:・゚✧

♥ More Miraculous Art by Squiggles

~LittleMissSquiggles (2017)

A Blue Prince To Own, Chapter 1

“Hey, Lance, why are you being so quiet? Not that we don’t enjoy it of course, it’s just strange.”

Do you even care?

“Oh, I’m fine, just tired.”

Why doesn’t anyone notice when I lie?

“Okay.”

“God, dude, get some more sleep, you’ll be useless during a mission if you’re a walking zombie.”

I’m useless when I’m well rested.

“Hunk, help me in the lab, will you?”

“Sure, Pidge.”

You forgot about our plans so easily. Should I watch movies alone then?

“Shiro, you up for sparring?”

“Good thinking, Keith.”

Okay, I guess all the chores are left to me too, then.

“Well, I’m glad everyone’s found something to do now that the mission is over.”

No one asked me, but that’s okay.

After cleaning the healing pods, I sigh and clamber into Blue’s cockpit. She can sense my sadness because I can sense her worry and I just slink down into my chair and slowly begin to fade. I really like napping. When I’m asleep, I don’t have to be anywhere near my uncaring teammates or occupied best friend, or really reality in general.

Except, this time it’s different. I awake to the sounds of static popping in my helmet that’s a few paces away and Blue sounds panicked in my head. The blue holographic screen in the cockpit is stirring, despite me having not touched any of the controls. Why am I so calm? Maybe it’s because I’m slowly starting to not care about myself just like the rest of Voltron.

After a few minutes, it stops. Then, a person appears on the holographic screen and all I can do is jump in surprise. Even my reactions are lackluster and late. It’s an oddly human looking Galra man with long white hair and eyes that have pupils, unlike most Galra. He’s handsome, is my first thought, which is weird because he’s part of the species systematically destroying the universe but so is Keith and we fuck sometimes.

“Hey.” I say, surprised at how hazy the sound of my own voice is.

“Greetings and Salutations Blue Paladin!” The guy says excitedly with a wide grin. “It is I, Prince Lotor, heir to the Galra empire!”

I rub the sleep from my eyes with my wrist. “Neat, man. Anything you want?”

“Well, Blue Paladin, I’ve been observing you and I’ve come to proclaim my love.” He’s dressed like a royal might, with fancy purple and black clothes, embroidered expertly with golden detail. “So that you might accept my affections and come to realize your own you might be harboring for me!”

“Ay, well, that won’t exactly happen in one beat? But, hey, nothing better to do than talk to you, so.” I lazily shrug my shoulders and slink down further into my chair.

“Of course! I must make you fall for me so that we should rule the Galran empire side by side. How should I win your love, then, Blue Paladin?”

This is… kind of flattering. “I don’t know, we could get to know each other, maybe get a space Starbucks here and there. I’m tired. You’re not going to like… try and kill me so you can take my lion, right?”

His features tighten. “I should never! My father was a fool to violently and ruthlessly rule like a tyrant, thinking so moronically he could fair against Team Voltron. I seek to bring peace to repair the damage he has caused, though I fear it might never be truly fixed.” His pointy purple ears lower sadly.

“Oh. That sounds really nice. I wish you good luck, then.”

“I have been blessed by your good wishes! How long until you fall for me, Blue Paladin? How long until I at last have your love, my gem?”

Hm. I shrug again, hoping that the gesture is universal. “It depends. We just gotta talk and stuff, yanno? Like, it doesn’t happen right away, you have to work for it. Earn it. I don’t see why you think I’m special, though.”

Prince Lotor cocks his head curiously. “But, my gem, you are so beautiful, so unique, and the Blue Paladin, honored with piloting one of the five lions, tasked with defending the universe. Who wouldn’t think you are special?”

“Uh, you got it wrong.” I flush. It’s been… I’ve never really heard those types of words directed at me. I’d say it’s been a while, but no one’s this nice to me. “I’m more of an annoying, glorified errand boy, filling the place of the Blue Paladin until someone better comes along. I’m not actually skilled at anything except for screwing up.”

“Blasphemy!” He barks and I light up at his passion. “The place of a Paladin is not one that can be simply filled in! It is preserved for thousands of years and given only to those who are worthy! I’ve never met such a humble person in all my years. Do you not see how truly significant you are, Blue Paladin?”

Oh. He’s pulling all my heart strings apart. My eyes sting. “I know I’ll never be equal to my teammates, and I’m fine with it, so. I’ll just try to stay out of the way.”

“But, you…” His eyes grow sparkly and his face lovesick. “You’re perfect, Blue Paladin, with your shiny blue eyes and perfect complexion, resourcefulness and sharp shooting, even the way you can’t see any of that is gorgeous. I simply cannot wait to make you all mine.”

That in particular sends a shiver down my spine. “Uh, that’s - ”

“Ah, I must go, Blue Paladin!” Lotor exclaims urgently, waving his hand as faint sounds of footsteps sound on his end of the hologram. “Thank you for the lovely discussion, but I must bid farewell!”

“N- No problem. You can call me, Lance, though.” His face brightens with a smile just before the connection times out and Blue’s entire vessel returns to being dark.

She asks me what happened. All I can do is smile as my face goes pleasantly warm because I honestly don’t know what the fuck just happened.

chapter 2: https://langst-mccpain.tumblr.com/post/163230017350/a-blue-prince-to-own-chapter-2

KNB x NBA

 Ok, I’m just going to throw a wild card out here and analyze the current placement of Kurobasu. Normally, I was expecting the choices to be based on colour or personality, but when Akashi came out I was completely thrown off. I think there is a clear pattern for why they were placed on this teams though.

My theory is they’re being placed into the teams where the greatest NBA legends are born (because they are the GOM so the teams have to be legendary too??). BUT! It’s more than just aesthetics! (I’m sorry Akashi, but the yellow jersey isn’t your color :-/ ) I think the GOM-Legend matchup is more on their playing styles!

So they’re not totally random! Then again, I could be overthinking things. If I am, this is probably a short rant of an obsessed KNB fan ^u^?

ANYWAY, Here’s the roster so far:

1. Kagami - Chicago Bulls
Michael freaking Jordan started from the Chicago Bulls. Kagami wears Jordans.
Also, have you seen this man jump? There’s a reason why Mike’s #1. He can jump crazy high and his drive to become the best is what put him at. the. top.
Michael Jordan wasn’t only amazing in terms of offense, his size allowed him to be a great defender too. 


2. Kuroko - San Antonio Spurs

Have you guys heard of Tim Duncan? No? Well let me introduce you to the man Shaquille O’Neal called “The Big Fundamental” and the one who placed the Spurs on the map. Let me tell you that name wasn’t born without a reason.
He plays similarly to Kuroko - in the sense that his plays are more quiet and a little “vanilla” unlike the other more flashy legends. He lacked a “style” in a sense, but not having one was his style! His style was consistent and amazingly persistent - often perceived as “boring” by some, but it was perfect for masking his individuality on the court. No one could pinpoint just Duncan. He had a very sneaky playing style - amazing footwork that allowed him to dance around his opponents. Literally, he was the perfect shadow.


3. Midorima - Boston Celtics
OK, first things first: makes sense because of two things: GREEN EVERYWHERE and the symbol is the leprechaun, a symbol of good luck!

Next, other than this lining up perfectly, let me tell you folks about Larry Bird, one of the greatest legends of all time (my idol tbh and a legend alongside Magic Johnson). Larry Bird is well known for having one of the quickest shot releases of all time. His shots could go past any defender. By the time they saw him shoot, the ball had already left his hands. Let me say again, he is one of the greatest shooters of all time.

Why not Curry and his amazing three pointers? Stephen Curry is only 6′3″! Larry Bird had a build that towers at 6′9″, he nailed the shots each time, and he’s in green too. Go figure. (There are other great Celtics like Paul Pierce or Bill Russell but I love Larry Bird OK)

4. Akashi - LA Lakers
Why not Sacramento Kings or a team that’s totally red? I thought he would be because Kings = Emperor or something. But, this makes more sense. The LA Lakers had several legends but I think the key player here is Magic Johnson. Johnson is one of the greatest Point Guards of All time and is a name that runs in every basketball nut’s household. He wasn’t just incredibly skilled, he made the plays that brought the trophy home. He virtually improved all the players around with each pass or move. Each pass and set was calculated - surprising many of his opponents! In a way, his plays brought a little magic to the court, hence the name. He was one of the few players in all of history who could not only play all roles, but DOMINATE EACH ONE. He was THE PLAYMAKER, THE MASTERMIND, THE KING ON THE COURT. If you’re looking for a player with irl Emperor’s Eye, Magic Johnson is the player with that exact ability.

Also, he and Larry Bird’s rivalry is one of the greatest in NBA history too! (Like the competitiveness between Akashi and Midorima)

Unrevealed so far and my predictions:
Murasakibara -
Houston Rockets (Possibly Yao Ming)
<3 Kise <3 - Golden State Warriors (Possibly Stephen Curry)
Aomine - Cleveland Cavaliers/Miami Heat (Possibly Lebron James)


But these ARE JUST MY THOUGHTS AND IN NO WAY AM I A DECISION MAKER FOR WHAT THEY ACTUALLY DECIDE!  Just trying to understand why they’re in the teams they are now huhu

If y’all have any thoughts or other predictions that might be even better, i’m totally open to hearing them!! XD I’ll probably upd8 this every time they release a new one X3 or keep my thoughts to myself

Yuuram in Novel 3

Because yuuram is life I hereby present you with a list of yuuram moments in the novels. This time novel 3.

——————————————————————
Novel 3. ch.1

-Another Yuuram reunion-

The one who barged in was the angel-like bishounen, Wolfram von Bielefeld. He stopped dead in the hallway upon seeing my naked torso, and seemed to be at a loss for words, his cute face flustered.

“Yuuri… my God! Your face and arms … So dark! Have you caught a terrible disease? Or a curse?”

“Are you looking for a fight?” I sulked.

In fact, my face and my arms were well-tanned, but my torso and legs were still white as snow. For baseball players, having this shirt-like tan would be considered an achievement, but when my upper body was exposed like this, it was indeed not the best look.

With the thumb and forefinger, Wolfram pinched my cheek.

“Ow-ow-aie-ooh-aie!! What do you think you’re doing?”

——————————————————————
Novel 3. ch.1

- Yuuri introducing Wolfram -

Wolfram was a rival-less super bishounen, like a Vienna choir boy who had jumped straight out of a shoujo manga. He had inherited his mother’s shiny golden hair and her emerald green eyes. While his build was no better or worse than mine, the difference between our looks was as wide as the gap between heaven and earth. I imagined all artists in the world would fight over the chance to paint his portrait. If he had appeared in someone’s dream, the dreamer might even be moved to tears thinking they had seen an angel.

However, he was angel-like only as long as he kept his mouth shut. Else he was just a terribly spoiled and bratty prince. As he claimed, and if one could believe his words, he was already eighty-two years old. If he was living in Japan, he would be a stubborn old man. And because of a small tiny minor cultural difference, we are engaged to each other.

——————————————————————
Novel 3. ch.1

- Casually touching Yuuri -

“The Mateki?!”

Wolfram who was strangely brushing the limit of my suntan, stepped into our conversation excitedly. As expected from a Vienna Boys Choir singer, the tone of his voice would even be a little annoying for Mozart.

“I’ve only heard the stories about it from my father, but he said that the sound of the flute is fantastic! It can make the sky roar and the earth shake. Its sound can conjure a loud storm, that would make you cower!”

“C-cows go?”

“Cows go mosa mosa.”

——————————————————————
Novel 3. ch.2

- Yuuri being casually gay, and also upset he can’t be an alpha-

I tried to shift my body away from the boy sitting in front of me as much as possible so that some air could pass through between us. However, it was nothing but hot air all around us, and there was no stir even remotely resembling a breeze.

“If you slip further back, you’ll fall.” Wolfram said.

“I’m dying of heat!” I complained.

Wolfram was obviously enjoying the situation.

Yes, thanks. Very funny. If only it had been a girl who was sitting in front of me, then I would have had my fun. Like a charming gentleman, I would have steadied her, with the reins held in my hands. Sadly for me, the front seat was occupied by a bishounen lovelier than a girl.

——————————————————————
Novel 3. ch.2

-Yuuri casually risking Conrad’s life to save Wolf -

“What about Wolfram?! He fell in front of me into the sand! But he won’t die, right?!” I cried and wailed.

“If he was unlucky…” Gwendal said above me. (…)

“Your Majesty, Wolfram would agree with me immediately. He is also a grownup warrior and knows that things like this can happen. Your safety comes first!”(…)

By now, there was no visible trace of the soldiers who had been swallowed by the sand vortex. Would they pass off falling into such a land hole as a matter of bad luck? Just imagining the honey blond hair and brilliant emerald green eyes frozen with terror, hurt my chest; I couldn’t breathe.(…)

“Conrad, I don’t want you to be someone who abandon his own brother.” I finally said. (…)

“You’ve said that you would only follow my orders.” I said.

“Yes, but that was…”

“You said you’ll follow my catcher’s signs. Then I order you to save Wolfram. Please! I’m fine; you have no reason to worry about me. After all I still have a strong guard here.”

Conrad looked surprised and shifted his eyes back and forth between me and Gwendal.

——————————————————————
Novel 3. ch.8

-Wolfram’s reaction to hearing that Yuuri and Gwendal had eloped-

“Then you are the younger brother, whose fiancé has run off with your own elder brother?”

“What are you saying?”

In an instant, Wolfram’s face had turned visibly red even in the pale moonlight. At the same time, steam seemed to be rising from his head.

“Conrad, what does that mean?” He yelled. “My brother and Yuuri! This cannot be true! I knew it! That cheater! ”

“Wolfram, calm down. It is certainly not what it looks like.”

“But yes, the two are surely a couple,” the girl said. “I’ve seen them with my own eyes. The poor guys were on the run. They were chained together with handcuffs.”

“Chained together?”

It had to be boiling water inside Wolfram’s head.

(…)

The Lord Betrothed has gone completely out of his mind with fury and was by then torturing an innocent garbage can with his feet. Conrad decided to let Wolfram vent his rage. He turned around and put a hand on the shoulder of the girl who was about to break out in tears.

——————————————————————
Novel 3. ch.10

-Yuuri hearing wedding music as he sleeps on Wolfram’s lap; wakes up to Wolfram’s hair in the moonlight which he thinks ‘is beautiful’ (the moon looks beautiful tonight trope?) ; Yuuri ’s mantra -

In the meantime, the melodies of “The blue Danube” by Johann Strauss kept playing in my head. And it was not the full-scale version performed by an orchestra, but the cheap version the like of a call center’s hold tone.

(…)

“What …” I mumbled.

The first thing that I could see was thick golden strands shimmering in the moonlight. I didn’t even have time to think 'It’s beautiful’, when I heard someone scolding me.

“Why do you always do this?”

“Wolf?”

“What?”

“Wa…Water…”

(…)

“Ouch… Stop it! I’m drowning, I’m really drowning here. Please forgive me!”

“Do you know how worried I was about you?”

Angering a bishounen, even if one was not at fault, would result in painful consequences. At the same time, I felt tremendous guilt since it was indeed my own impulsive action that caused trouble to everyone.

(…)

Even though I perfectly knew that we were both guys, being pursued by such a beautiful boy like him still caused my heart to skip a few beats. At times like this, the most effective solution was to avoid looking at his face and keep chanting “He is 82 years old” like a mantra.

——————————————————————
Novel 3. ch.11

-Pillow Wolf-

As if that weren’t enough, I had to lay down across two seats, my head softly cushioned on the thigh of Lord Bielefeld!

“Does my pillow have to be a man’s lap, of all things?!” I wailed.

“Every time you do some huge magic, you sleep for two to three days,” declared Wolfram, unmoved.

“This time you only slept two hours. And after such a formidable performance, too. Please be so kind as to stay right where you are. You need your rest.”

“All right, all right! But why the heck does it have to be with you as my pillow!?”

“Doesn’t it make you happy?”

“Do I look like I’m happy?!”

“Oh, you two are truly one heart and one soul,” sighed Nicola with shining eyes.

——————————————————————
Novel 3. ch.12

-This chapter is just all yuuram-

“Yuuri, I never would have thought that you are capable of such a bold initiative,” Wolfram said in surprise after I decided to knock on his door.

The delicate pretty boy did not know what to make of the whole thing. He tilted his head to one side and, his lips slightly open, waiting in silence for an explanation.

“I just want you to have a bath with me. If you feel embarrassed, you can keep your swim trunks on,” I said.

“If it’s just the two of us then there’s nothing to be embarrassed about, but… ”

“Then let’s go! I’m in a hurry! A towel and a pair of trunks would be enough!”

In a corner of his room, Wolfram was busy digging for some strange object. Was he looking for a rubber duck to take with us?

I pulled the broadly grinning Wolfram, and head towards the familiar royal bathroom.

——————————————————————
Novel 3. ch.12

-Definitely foreplay-

“Can you push me into the pool?”

“What?”

“Come on now,” I grumbled.

“What kind of foreplay is this?”

Wolfram pushed me into the water, but I immediately resurfaced.

“I don’t understand,” I muttered. “Hey, what are you doing?! Did I tell you to jump in too?!”

Wolfram emerged again, his blond hair totally soaked. The image was like the scene of an angel bathing. Luckily he had kept his clothes on, just like me. With two strokes, he swam over to me.

“Why did you dive in? I only wanted you to push me.”

He wrapped his pale arms around my neck.

“Don’t hug me!”

“Didn’t you want to try a totally new way of doing it?”

“Way of doing it…? Wolfram, you were expecting to do something naughty, weren’t you!?”

Even though I was completely desperate, my partner was shamelessly indulging in his own happy fantasies. I hung my head and swallowed my growing anger. In another attempt, I put my feet firmly on the bathtub floor, and slowly stretched my knees.

——————————————————————
Novel 3. ch.12

- He did actually use Wolf this time, bad Yuuri -

“I can’t go back, to my home, to earth, to Japan!” I cried angrily.

“I thought it would be just like last time, I could return through the bathroom again. But no matter what I did, nothing happened at all! I thought if I was forced into a corner, I would enter the star journey to escape from danger… But even when you pushed me into the water, still nothing happened.”

“What?”

“Wolf… why is that grimace?”

Numerous creases gathered above his nose and between his eyebrows. The ex-prince lifted his chin and pulled his shoulders back.

“You used me for this small thing?”

“It’s not a small thing! This is incredibly important for me, don’t you understand that much?”

“You are now the king of this country, you can’t run around anymore! You’ve got to stay here. Yuuri, your home is this castle! And that’s forever!”

Every time this bishounen scolded me, I would feel the numerous wounds his words caused. As hard as it was to accept, Wolfram was probably right. My diving attempts were pointless. But what other choice did I have? I had never thought that I could never see Japan again.

——————————————————————

Novel 3. ch.12

-Yup, he’s angry-

“You’re unbelievably dim-witted,” Wolfram groaned and brushed his wet bang back from his forehead.

His seemingly arrogant green eyes stared at me fiercely. He really does have an angel’s face, but his words draw blood with each syllable.

“You belong to this world. You cannot escape, your soul is at home here.”

—————————————————————

Yuuram in Novel : 1|2|3|4|5|6|7|8|9|10|11|12|13|14|15|16|17

“Gotta admit, I never understood it.”

“What?”

“Hand cannons.”

“What’s to understand? Aim, shoot, big boom.”

“I mean the fundamental design concept of the weapon class. If you’re making what amounts to a handheld ballistic particle accelerator, why model it after an archaic rotary-firing kind of pistol from before the Golden Age?”

“Guess weapon designers are romantics sometimes. Have you seen, like, anything by Tex Mechanica?”

“Maybe, but for that matter, if you want to build a semi-automatic gun optimized for maximum impact per shot, why make a handgun at all? Stability and recoil are always problems, as is range, and reload mechanisms get tricky when you require such a small magazine, and—”

“Look, what’s your point?”

“I guess my point is: why aren’t hand cannons just scout rifles? You know how much better the ballistic performance characteristics would be on an extra-high-impact rifle platform?”

“Maybe hand cannons just aren’t the guns for you.”

“Maybe. Hard not to like this one, though.”

“Why? Explosive payload’s nice, right?”

“Sure, that’s not it.”

“Well?”

“It’s the feel of it. The weight in the hand, you know?”

“I think you might understand hand cannons after all.”

(Better Devils w/ Golden Trace)

2

“Tangled Testicles” 

I wished we saw the following exchanged between Claire, Jamie, and Yi Tien Cho but for once I am not complaining about the adaptation for this scene. This is because it gave us vulnerable Jamie, who was so afraid of losing Claire. It also gave us a more confident Claire, one who is more certain of her choice to return to Jamie and of her role in his life. We also go to hear Claire say she loves Jamie, which is bonus, bonus, bonus.

———————

Mr. Willoughby was leaning against an upright in the passage, peering thoughtfully into the cabin.

“Don’t have those stone balls with you, do you?” I asked.

“Yes,” he answered, looking surprised. “Wanting healthy balls for Tseimi?” He began to fumble in his sleeve, but I stopped him with a gesture.

“What I want to do is bash him on the head with them, but I suppose Hippocrates would frown on that.”

Mr. Willoughby smiled uncertainly and bobbed his head several times in an effort to express appreciation of whatever I thought I meant.

“Never mind,” I said. I glared back over my shoulder at the heap of reeking bedclothes. It stirred slightly, and a groping hand emerged, patting gingerly around the floor until it found the basin that stood there. Grasping this, the hand disappeared into the murky depths of the berth, from which presently emerged the sound of dry retching.

“Bloody man!” I said, exasperation mingled with pity—and a slight feeling of alarm. The ten hours of a Channel crossing were one thing; what would his state be like after two months of this?

“Head of pig,” Mr. Willoughby agreed, with a lugubrious nod. “He is rat, you think, or maybe dragon?”

“He smells like a whole zoo,” I said. “Why dragon, though?”

“One is born in Year of Dragon, Year of Rat, Year of Sheep, Year of Horse,” Mr. Willoughby explained. “Being different, each year, different people. You are knowing is Tsei-mi rat, or dragon?”

“You mean which year was he born in?” I had vague memories of the menus in Chinese restaurants, decorated with the animals of the Chinese zodiac, with explanations of the supposed character traits of those born in each year. “It was 1721, but I don’t know offhand which animal that was the year of.”

“I am thinking rat,” said Mr. Willoughby, looking thoughtfully at the tangle of bedclothes, which were heaving in a mildly agitated manner. “Rat very clever, very lucky. But dragon, too, could be. He is most lusty in bed, Tsei-mi? Dragons most passionate people.”

“Not so as you would notice lately,” I said, watching the heap of bed-clothes out of the corner of my eye. It heaved upward and fell back, as though the contents had turned over suddenly.

“I have Chinese medicine,” Mr. Willoughby said, observing this phenomenon thoughtfully. “Good for vomit, stomach, head, all making most peaceful and serene.”

I looked at him with interest. “Really? I’d like to see that. Have you tried it on Jamie yet?”

The little Chinese shook his head regretfully.

“Not want,” he replied. “Say damn-all, throwing overboard if I am come near.”

Mr. Willoughby and I looked at each other with a perfect understanding.

“You know,” I said, raising my voice a decibel or two, “prolonged dry retching is very bad for a person.”

“Oh, most bad, yes.” Mr. Willoughby had shaved the forward part of his skull that morning; the bald curve shone as he nodded vigorously.

“It erodes the stomach tissues, and irritates the esophagus.”

“This is so?”

“Quite so. It raises the blood pressure and strains the abdominal muscles, too. Can even tear them, and cause a hernia.”

“Ah.”

“And,” I continued, raising my voice just a trifle, “it can cause the testicles to become tangled round each other inside the scrotum, and cuts off the circulation there.”

“Ooh!” Mr. Willoughby’s eyes went round.

“If that happens,” I said ominously, “the only thing to do, usually, is to amputate before gangrene sets in.”

Mr. Willoughby made a hissing sound indicative of understanding and deep shock. The heap of bedclothes, which had been tossing to and fro in a restless manner during this conversation, was quite still.

I looked at Mr. Willoughby. He shrugged. I folded my arms and waited. After a minute, a long foot, elegantly bare, was extruded from the bedclothes. A moment later, its fellow joined it, resting on the floor.

“Damn the pair of ye,” said a deep Scottish voice, in tones of extreme malevolence. “Come in, then.”

Fergus and Marsali were leaning over the aft rail, cozily shoulder to shoulder, Fergus’s arm about the girl’s waist, her long fair hair fluttering in the wind.

Hearing approaching footsteps, Fergus glanced back over his shoulder. Then he gasped, whirled round, and crossed himself, eyes bulging.

“Not…one…word, if ye please,” Jamie said between clenched teeth.

Fergus opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Marsali, turning to look too, emitted a shrill scream.

“Da! What’s happened to ye?”

The obvious fright and concern in her face stopped Jamie from whatever acerbic remark he had been about to make. His face relaxed slightly, making the slender gold needles that protruded from behind his ears twitch like ant’s feelers.

“It’s all right,” he said gruffly. “It’s only some rubbish of the Chinee’s, to cure the puking.”

Wide-eyed, Marsali came up to him, gingerly extending a finger to touch the needles embedded in the flesh of his wrist below the palm. Three more flashed from the inside of his leg, a few inches above the ankle.

“Does—does it work?” she asked. “How does it feel?”

Jamie’s mouth twitched, his normal sense of humor beginning to reassert itself.

“I feel like a bloody ill-wish doll that someone’s been poking full o’ pins,” he said. “But then I havena vomited in the last quarter-hour, so I suppose it must work.” He shot a quick glare at me and Mr. Willoughby, standing side by side near the rail.

“Mind ye,” he said, “I dinna feel like sucking on gherkins just yet, but I could maybe go so far as to relish a glass of ale, if ye mind where some might be found, Fergus.”

“Oh. Oh, yes, milord. If you will come with me?” Unable to refrain from staring, Fergus reached out a tentative hand to take Jamie’s arm, but thinking better of it, turned in the direction of the after gangway.

“Shall I tell Murphy to start cooking your luncheon?” I called after Jamie as he turned to follow Fergus. He gave me a long, level look over one shoulder. The golden needles sprouted through his hair in twin bunches, gleaming in the morning light like a pair of devil’s horns.

“Dinna try me too high, Sassenach,” he said. “I’m no going to forget, ye ken. Tangled testicles—pah!”

Mr. Willoughby had been ignoring this exchange, squatting on his heels in the shadow of the aft-deck scuttlebutt, a large barrel filled with water for refreshment of the deck watch. He was counting on his fingers, evidently absorbed in some kind of calculation. As Jamie stalked away, he looked up.

“Not rat,” he said, shaking his head. “Not dragon, too. Tsei-mi born in Year of Ox.”

“Really?” I said, looking after the broad shoulders and red head, lowered stubbornly against the wind. “How appropriate.”

Songbird

Somehow, a cure for the zombie sickness has been found and slowly, the world is starting to be rebuilt. You live in Woodbury with Rick, Andrea and many others. One of those people is Merle Dixon. And he enjoys teasing you about your singing. The Walking Dead AU in which everyone lives and things are getting better. Thanks to @multi-villain-imagines , @rookerstash , @kimqueenofhell and proustianrecall for the help. Edited by Grammarly so all mistakes are mine!


Songs used are Would You? from Singing in the Rain and King Kong Kitchie Kitchie Ki Me O


He holds her in his arms

Would you? Would you?

He tells her of her charms

Would you? Would you?

You sang as you finished up the laundry. Now all you had to do was hang it up. Gathering it up all in a basket, you went over to the hanging line before you started to continue your song.

They met as you and I

And they were only friends

But before the story ends

He’ll kiss her with a sigh

Would you? Would you?

Before the whole infection started, you had been a singer. Despite your current situation, you still sang. Why not? You loved to sing. Sure, you weren’t famous, and you were in a world with zombies, but it could be worse. In fact, things had gotten better since a cure had been discovered and people were distributing it. You were alive. Life at Woodbury was good. You weren’t much of a fighter, but you could cook, clean, help with the children, and you even started a garden. Heck, you were even teaching some of the others how to garden. With a steady supply of food, hunting wouldn’t be the only option.

And if the girl were I

Would you? Would you?

And would you dare to say

Let’s do the same as they?

I would, would you?

 “Whoo! Sing it Beyonce, sing it!”

   You tensed slightly. Alright, there was only one bad thing about Woodbury, and its name was Merle Dixon. Or as you liked to call him, the Redneck Asshole. If you looked up the word asshole in a dictionary, you would see his face.  For some reason, Merle went out of his way to annoy everybody. The only person who genuinely liked him was his brother. How Daryl put up with Merle was beyond you. You were a polite person, you really were, but Merle made it so hard for you to be nice to him. You just wanted to smack him.

   “We have been over this Mr. Dixon,” You said politely. “I have a name, and it’s definitely not Beyonce.” 

“Aw come on my little songbird,” Merle grinned. “Don’t play hard to get.”

  Oh, that was another thing. For some reason, instead of trying to court Andrea, he was now trying to get you into bed with him. When you first showed up at Woodbury, he ignored you. But then you caught him staring at you. You ignored that, but you couldn’t ignore the dirty looks and gestures. So since Merle had decided to court you, that meant tons of nicknames and sexual advances. His favorite nickname to call you was ‘songbird.’ Despite telling him at least three different times you weren’t interested, he kept coming back.

Great just great.

“I am not playing hard to get,” You continued to be polite as you hung up the clothing. “I’ve told you before Mr. Dixon, I am not interested.”

“That’s what they all say,” Merle approached you. “But I know better. Girls can’t resist me.”

“I assure you,” You moved to the other side of the laundry line. “Resiting you is very easy for me.”

“C’mon,” He grabbed your arm. “Why don’t you sing for me huh? I could make you sing all night if you let me.”

“Mr. Dixon,”

“It’s Merle baby,” You pulled you closer. “None of this Mr. Dixon shit.”

“Alright then Merle,” You pushed him away. “I’m going to make this as clear as I possibly can. I am not interested. Maybe if you get a personality change or possibly find a new brain, I would consider it. But I am not interested in sleeping with a man who treats other people like crap. Now if you excuse me, I have laundry to hang up.”

   With that, you turned back to the laundry and began to hang up the rest. There was a pause, and then Merle started to laugh.

   “God, you are so fucking adorable when you’re angry! Just you wait songbird,” Merle chuckled. “You’re going to be mine.”

   You rolled your eyes but said nothing. You had to finish hanging up the clothing.


“I’m telling you Carol, I don’t understand men. I really don’t.”

“I don’t think anyone does Y/N,” Carol sighed as she planted some seeds. “Let me guess, Merle again?”

“Yep,” You wiped sweat away from your brow. “I have told him at least three times I am not interested and he still keeps at it! I remember when I longed for a man to chase me and now, I hate it.”

“That’s probably why he does it,” Carol shrugged. “Merle likes to get under people’s skin.”

“Yeah,” You sighed. “Okay, I’m going to check on the apple tree. I’ll be back.”

The apple tree was one of the first things you planted as soon as you got to Woodbury. The tree was big, strong and beautiful. Out of all the things you had planted, the tree was your greatest achievement. Picking up a basket, you started whistling. Another good thing about music that it took your mind off things. Right now, you were trying to take your mind off Merle.

Merle was an attractive man. You hated admitting that, but he was. He had a sense of rugged charm. Well, he could have rugged charm if he just stopped being an ass. It seemed like he never had anything to say. How could one man just be so full of hate? It was depressing to think about it. So you were going to sing instead of think about it. You started singing as you climbed up the ladder.

Froggie went a courting and he did ride

King kong kitchie kitchie ki-me-o

With a sword and a pistol by his side

King kong kitchie kitchie ki-me-o

Merle perked up as he heard your voice and he grinned. You lived up to your nickname. Coming around the corner, he saw you picking apples from the tree you had planted. While you placed apples into the bucket, his eyes were glued to your ass. God, you really were a little hottie. And the fact that you were so feisty made you all the more desirable. Merle wasn’t a man who gave up easily. The more you rejected him, the more he wanted you.

Feeling a bit more cruel than usual, Merle walked over to the ladder and tipped it over. You screamed as you fell back but Merle caught you in his arms.

“Careful there Madonna,” He grinned at you.

“Ow Merle! Watch your arm,” You tried to stand up. “It’s poking me.”

“I have something else that could poke you,” He said with a grin.

“Jesus Christ on a cracker,” You pushed him away and stood up. “Will you knock it off?”

“Aw, did I embarrass you?” He cooed. “What’s the matter pumpkin? You shy or something?”

“Merle, I’m trying to work,” You started picking up the apples that had fallen. “Unlike someone I know! Can you please leave me alone?”

“Nah,” Merle scratched his chin, grinning at you. “Come on, what’s the deal, Adele? Why do you keep resisting me?”

“Because I’m trying to make sure everyone here has enough food and that we don’t starve,” You replied. “We’re trying to build the world back, remember? There is finally a cure for the disease. We might be able to fix this planet. Things are getting better and I can’t have you distracting me!”

“Me? A distraction? What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Ever since I’ve heard that golden voice of yours, I can’t get it out of my head,” He said, stepping closer to you. “It’s like listening to an angel. Makes me wonder why God placed one his children on this here Earth instead of keeping her up in heaven.”

That took you by surprise. Instead of being cocky, Merle looked sincere. It was okay. Merle Dixon was not known for his kind words. He was harsh and blunt. But at that moment, he stared at you with such a gaze you believed him. As odd as it was, you were flattered. Many people had told you were a great singer back in the day. You forgot how nice it was to hear it.  Even if it was coming from an asshole redneck.

“I–have to go.” You managed to say.

You pushed past him, your heart beating like mad.

Merle sighed. Angrily, he punched a nearby wall. He wasn’t a person who shared his feeling so what had just happened? How did he just spill his guts?

“Why in the fuck did I say that?” He asked himself.

“I can’t believe you said that,” Daryl chuckled.

“I came to you for advice, not to be laughed at,” Merle grumbled.

“It sounds like you have it bad,” Daryl shrugged. “I suggest just being honest. Women prefer it from what I understand.”

“And make an ass of myself? No thank you.”

“You already did that.”

“You are no help,” Merle sighed. “I guess you’re right though. I can’t keep doing this. All I do is think about her.”

“Out of all the girls you fall for, you chose Y/N. It’s like you’re trying to make things harder for yourself.”

“What do you mean?”

“Merle, come on. She’s classy. You know she was an opera singer back in the day right? She toured and shit. Went to England, Italy, all sorts of places.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Not only that but she even went to college and graduated top of her class. She apparently plays piano too.”

“Damn, she’s talented.”

“More talented than your sorry ass.”

“Shut up Daryl.”

“Make me.”


For the rest of the day, you seemed distracted. It was hard for you to focus thanks to Merle. After his outburst, you didn’t know what to think. There was no way it would work between you two. You just couldn’t picture the two of you together. He was rough and you were delicate. But despite knowing this, you couldn’t help but get the thought of him out of your head. Sighing, you returned to peeling the potatoes.

“Ahem.”

You looked over to see Merle.

“I know you’re busy but—I need to talk to you.”

“Oh, okay.”

You placed the potato and the peeler down.

“Alright, here I go. I know I’m not the definition of Prince Charming but–damn, I can’t help loving you girl. I don’t know how or why I fell in love with you but I did. You’re so fucking pretty, your voice is heavenly and when I hear you sing, I feel like things are going to be alright. But I know the chances of you being with a fuckwad like me are slim. I just had to tell you.”

For a second, you didn’t say anything. You were in shock. Never in your life did you think Merle Dixon would say such things. Never in your life had someone had something so sweet. You stared at Merle. His confident demeanor had vanished. Right now, he looked nervous and unsure of himself. Smiling, you walked towards him. When you reached him, you pulled him forward and kissed him. Merle closed his eyes as he kissed you back.

“You are a fuckwad,” You said after you stopped kissing him. “But we can try to fix that.”

“See? Told you’d come around sooner or later,” His familiar cocky grin appeared.

“Don’t ruin the moment Dixon.”

anonymous asked:

Percy/Annabeth, 12. Person A has never seen Person B in a tuxedo/ball gown before…

“Jackson, you realize you’re supposed to be casing the room right now, not the hors d’oeuvres trays, right?”

Percy scowled as he swallowed one more crab cake and swiped a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. He took a sip, using the movement to cover his mouth as he mumbled, “What, you don’t think I can multitask, Piper? Geez.”

“Considering, out of all of us, you have the absolute worst record at keeping your cover on ops, no, I don’t think you can - ”

“You know they have mini hamburgers down here, right?” Percy interrupted, watching longingly as a tray of said burgers passed him by. “Won’t I look more suspicious if I pass that up?”

Mini burgers? They never have mini burgers when I’m on point. Unfair,” Jason’s voice grumbled in his earpiece, and Percy heard the unmistakable sound of Piper slapping an exasperated palm to her forehead a moment later. “But, uh, Pipes is right. Pay attention. These guys mean business. You’re gonna have to run as soon as you’ve got Aphrodite’s treasures, otherwise – ”

“Sayonara kneecaps? Yeah, I know, I was there when that goon threatened you at the coffee shop this morning,” he said, taking another sip of his champagne as he strolled casually around the perimeter of the room, pretending to be interested in the paintings hanging on the wall. “Not like they’ll recognize me in this overpriced penguin suit…”

The designer charcoal gray suit and blue tie he’d been stuffed in wasn’t out of place in this crowd of wealthy old farts and probable crime bosses, though he’d probably get laughed out of town if he tried to wear it back at camp. He fit right in, with his hair slicked back and styled in what Piper had deemed a sophisticated mess, and his shoes shined so bright he could see his reflection in them. The outfit made it easier to channel the Wall Street doucehbro persona he needed at events like this, though Percy was nowhere near as good at it as Jason was. It was unfortunate that Jason had become too recognizable after their last few ops because the son of Zeus slipped into any role required of him flawlessly, while Percy tended to flop around like a dying fish on the deck, hoping not to be noticed by the people in charge. 

There was a reason why Percy was usually the extraction guy on these operations, after all; for all his previous heroics, when it came to espionage, he was more of a Johnny English than a James Bond type.

He’d never thought being a spy and pulling off heists straight out of Oceans Eleven would be in his cards after saving the world a couple of times in his teens. But a few months ago, some idiot had left the Stolls alone near the treasury during a visit to Mount Olympus and somehow everyone was surprised when multiple ancient and powerful artifacts started showing up for sale on the black market weeks later, falling into the hands of some nasty humans who knew exactly what they were buying and what to do with them.

Of course, then it became Percy’s personal problem to get all them recovered before Zeus and the rest of the crew threw the Most Epic Hissy Ever by destroying Western Civilization, never mind that he had college classes he’d wanted to not fail this semester. No, the gods couldn’t find some other demigod to bother with this scavenger hunt. It had to be him.

Count on the Stolls brothers to fuck everything sideways. Assholes.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

"Hey babygirl. Bought you a gift." Long day at work didn't keep Namjoon from buying you a gift for the time you two have alone. He sneaked the nicely wrapped box in your hands as you confusely looked at him raising one eyebrow. "What's the occasion?" The question just rolls off your tongue hoping you didn't forget anything important. In your response he just smirks, scoffs and shakes his head. "Nothing special just hoped you might like it. (Part 1) ;) -kaya

If not I can easily just exchange it for something… slightly different.“ Curiosity got the better of you so you open the cute box to find a choker in it. The choker is about 3 cm thick with golden spikes going around it. The center of it contains a golden hoop. Besides the choker, the box also contains a leash-like rope with a clasp also made of gold. Immediately you realize what he wanted to do with it. (Part 2) -kaya

"Huh, now I can finally be your bitch.” Playfully smirking at him you put the choker on as Namjoon buckles the leash on the hoop and dominantly yanks you closer to him. Lust in his eyes excites you even more while you know that from now on you obey your oppa. (Part 3 -final) -kaya ;) heheh sorry i had to

ohhhhh~ ohhhhhhh~ ohhhhh okay kaya anon… thanks for that, fam… um— i’ll just ahhh— go and um… leave cause w TF OMG THAT WAS SO SEXY? THANKS, FAM, I RLLY APPRECIATED THAT.  AHHHHHHHHHA!

—Admin Sav

Cherry Clafouti and Other Sweet Things

(A continuation to Kenny’s 2 Months of Cooking Dangerously)


When Kenny is five years old, he falls flat on his face over some uneven crack on the sidewalk while walking back from kindergarten with his mother. The clay sculpture of a bird he made at school drops and rolls a good three feet away, losing its head in the process.

“Shh, Kenny,” his mother says sternly, wiping his blotchy, teary face with a rough movement. “Why didn’t you watch where you were going? Don’t cry. You can always get up again, nothing to cry about.”

His mother has always been practical. Five-year-old Kenny sucks up his sniffles and stares at her with wide, brimming eyes, too afraid to make a noise. He’s picked up his clay bird, now a lopsided lump.

“There is nothing you can’t fix, you hear me, Kenny?” she says, her tone softening. She kneads the edges and sticks the missing part back on. Kenny knows she’s tired from working the nighttime shift at the hospital the day before, so he stays silent. “Be brave.”

He nods. Years later, sitting in the hospital waiting room by himself after the draft—after Jack’s overdose—and feeling like his clay bird from over a decade ago, all he could think of is, I can fix this. There’s nothing I can’t fix. It’ll be okay.

Keep reading

Kai is a bit of a coward.

Forgive me for the harsh accusation, 

but he doesn’t do anything to help his sister with her love triangle.

He turned against his friends. It might be forgivable with his circumstances, but his sister says she’d rather die.

Kai’s crush on Skylor made him vunerable to betrayal - both being the foolish victim and the traitor.

Remember in the Digiverse, Kai was scared and was the last to get golden power?

Heck, when Neuro provoked a fight between Jay and Cole, Kai just watched at the background and reacted like a girl.

I honestly liked his characterization in the pilots when he was a bit of a stubborn jerk. Not that it’s better than cowardice, but I find it more interesting.

Still, we’re all a bit cowardly every know and then, aren’t we? It’s one flaw.

But there’s nothing wrong with being afraid, as long as you do right in the end.

018 / Expectant

sorry i haven’t posted in ages my god

anon requested a pref where you’re pregnant.. hope it’s okay?? remember to request, i can do blurbs, preferences, text thingies, whatever you’re into

ASHTON : You tossed the last of Ashton’s now-clean socks into the clothes basket, wishing they were as clean when you’d had to put them in the washer. Shuddering at the memory, you closed the glass door of the dryer and bent over to pick up the heavy wicker basket that now smelled of ‘April Rain’ thanks to Ashton’s choice of dryer sheets. 

“Babe, what are you doing?” You heard Ashton say with a hint of hysteria. You turned to see that him leaning against the door jamb, his arms crossed and his brows knit together slightly. “I told you that you shouldn’t be carrying heavy stuff around, let me do it." 

Ashton had been coddling you ever since the small bump on your stomach started to grow, and although it was sweet, you couldn’t drop everything and lay around. There was work to be done, and with Ashton’s busy schedule, he couldn’t always help out. Although it was strange at first, maneuvering around the bump, you’d soon figured it out and could keep house like a champ.

"Ash,” You smirked, and shifted the basket higher onto your waist. “Just because I’m pregnant doesn’t mean I can’t go about my business. The clothes need washed, the floor needs vacuumed, you need a shave.” You giggled, nodding your head towards the scruffy beard beginning to take shape on his jaw. Even though you personally liked it, you knew that he’d have to take a razor to it before the awards show you two were attending tomorrow night. “I can’t just watch TV for nine months until he decides to join us." 

Ashton furrowed his brows even more so, but then relaxed his face and chuckled. “I guess your right. I just don’t want you to stress yourself, or anything to happen to you.” 

"I know, I know.” You smiled, looking past your previous annoyance and counting your blessings you had such a sweetheart looking after you. “Thank you. But I’m a big girl, I can handle a few pounds of your smelly socks." 

"In that case,” Ashton pulled a face and backed up a few steps into the hallway. “I’ll go, uh, find something else to do.”

He took off down the hall like a twelve year old, blonde curls bouncing as they were tied back in one of his hundreds of bandannas.

“Thanks for help, Irwin!” You yelled sarcastically, laughing at the fear his own sweaty socks had induced. 

CALUM : The restaurant was mildly quiet, the fresh Sydney air breezing though the open balcony as you listened to Calum telling an animated story about something mischievous Michael and him had gotten up too. It made you happy, that Joy had offered to buy the two of you lunch, well, three of you, considering the six month old bump on your stomach that held the tiny combination of you and your husband.

“How have you been feeling, (Y/N)?” Joy asked, turning to you and ignoring her son as Calum sipped his Corona with his eyebrows furrowed. “Is she kicking a lot?" 

"Yeah, a bit.” You smiled at your mother in law, her features reflected in Calum’s. “She likes to move around a lot when her Daddy talks to her. He even played the guitar for her last night.”

Calum couldn’t help but grin against the lip of his beer bottle, proud of the fact. “The kid’s not even born yet and she already thinks I’m fucking fantastic.” 

“Calum Thomas!” Joy exclaimed, whacking her son with a napkin as you stifled a giggle. “I can’t believe you. Swearing in front of your daughter." 

"I’m gonna teach her all the bad words, right from the start.” He teased, leaning into your ear and pressing a kiss to your cheek. “She’ll be cussing like a sailor in no time." 

Joy sighed, shaking her head while you narrowed your eyes at him. “You better freaking not, Hood. I am not having our child become a mini Michael Clifford.”

"Hey, that’s a good namesake, don’t you think? I like Michael for the name.” Calum joked further and you kicked his foot under the table. Joy whacked him again with her napkin until Calum put his hands up in defence. “Alright, alright, so we won’t call her Michael.”

Have you picked out a name yet?” Joy wondered, directing the question towards you as she assumed Calum wouldn’t give her a serious answer. “Mali had a couple of nice ones a few nights ago.”

“Not really. We thought we’d figure it out when I’m really pregnant.” You sighed, finishing the last bit of your creamy rose pasta. 

"Yeah,” Calum interjected, his mouth full from the piece of pork chop he’d just shovelled in. “Apparently raging pregnancy hormones help with creativity." 

You felt like slapping a palm to your forehead, but resisted. “I can’t believe you’re going to be a father. Lord, help me.”

"You can always stay with me, dear. I’d love to have you.” Joy replied, shooting you a smile. “Calum can manage by himself.”

“She’s mine, Mum. Back off.” Calum teased, linking your hand in his below the table. Joy laughed and the conversation continued lightly until the waiter appeared with the bill in hand. 

“Let me, Calum.” Joy stated, picking up the cheque as Cal’s hand left yours in order to protest against his mother. 

“C’mon, Mum. I’ll pay, it’s no problem.” He tried, but she refused, shaking her dark hair at her son. 

“You treat me too much, Calum Hood. You buy me expensive things, you bring me this beautiful daughter in law, and make me a grandmother. I’ll buy lunch this time.”

You couldn’t refuse that logic. Joy paid the bill generously and stood to leave, as did Calum, slipping his light leather jacket over his bare arms as you discarded your napkin onto your plate. 

“Can I have a little help?” You asked your husband as he slipped on his dark sunglasses, framing his eyes and making your heart hammer a few beats faster. He still looked like the same bad boy that had asked you out in the supermarket five years ago, except that you had come to realize, however, that he wasn’t all that bad; just a huge puppy-dog that left empty vegemite containers in the cupboard. 

And now you were carrying his child. Things had a strange way of working out, you thought. 

“Sure thing, baby.” He grinned, coming around to your chair and letting you take his hand as he assisted you out of your chair, one wide hand supporting your back as you stood up completely. You had been beyond excited to have passed the halfway mark in your pregnancy, just as Calum had been, but the added stress of carrying around a small child was beginning to strain you on you. 

“Thank you for lunch, Joy.” You smiled and gave her a hug, kissing her cheek. “It was really nice.”

“I’m just glad you and the baby are doing well. Make sure you con him to rubbing your back whenever you can.” Joy laughed, patting Calum’s shoulder. He let out a soft chuckle and gripped your hand in his after hugging his mother. 

“She already has, don’t worry. I’m starting to think she’s using me.” Calum teased, and you gave him a nudge with your shoulder. 

“Not at all, baby. Besides, who else would make me peanut butter and pickle sandwiches?” You smirked as Calum pulled a face, shuddering at the weird combinations of food you had been craving. 

“Don’t remind me.” He laughed, sticking out his tongue.

LUKE : ”I am so ready to have this damn baby. I’m driving myself mad.” You swore, leaning on the couch and wallowing in the onslaught of gross emotions and sickness you were feeling. Your doctor had warned you that the last two months were the worst, and boy, was she right. 

“Well, sorry to break the news to you babe, but you still have another whole month to go.” Luke informed you as joined you on the couch with a beer in one hand for himself and a lemonade for yourself. “But you can do it, I know you can." 

"I feel like a piece of trash.” You sighed, resting your head against the couch. It was true - you had been plagued by nausea, pain, and to top it all off, the baby had been keeping you up all night with kicking and poking at your bladder and internal organs like they weren’t important. 

“You’re my piece of trash, though.” Luke complimented, pulling you closer towards him. He’d been away at band practice for most of the afternoon and hadn’t been available to cuddle while you wasted away the day. 

“Any more bets on the gender?” You asked him, referring to the other boys and what their opinions were. You and Luke had decided to keep the gender a surprise and that meant, of course, betting on what the outcome would be. You personally felt it would be a boy, and thought your vote should count for two since you were the one actually carrying the thing. 

“Ashton says boy, but Cal and Mike both vote girl.” Luke shrugged, downing a sip from his bottle. “But I agree with Ash. I have a feeling it’ll be a boy.”

“Me too.” You sighed. “What are we gonna name him, though?”

“I thought we already talked about this?” Luke chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple. 

“Luke, Hurricane is not a good name for a kid, no matter if Barney Stintson says so.”

"Whatever. I like it.” He teased, pouting his lips. You watched him as he smoothed back his blonde hair and you could only hope that your child, boy or girl, would be blessed with the same golden color.

“Yeah, but the kid might not.” You laughed, thinking about the ridiculous names he’d come up with in the past. “I don’t know, how about, if it’s a boy, we name him after one of your brothers?" 

Luke scrunched his nose and shook his head, pulling a face. “No way. I am not fighting them over which name is picked to be the first.” He started massaging one shoulder with a wide hand, making you feel ten times better. “What about Wesley?”

"Wesley Hemmings.” You weighed the words on your tongue, liking the sound. “Well, it’s one to consider.” You smiled, pecking Luke on the lips and returning your head to rest on one broad shoulder. 

MICHAEL : “I don’t see why we need so many clothes.” Michael whined, sitting cross legged on the nursery floor beside you, folding stacks of onsies and tiny outfits gifted to you by his mother after a shopping spree at Carter’s. “She’s just going to outgrow them in a few months anyway.”

“I think it was nice of your mom to buy us all this.” You countered, inclining your head towards your husband. “And besides, you were the one who couldn’t wait to buy baby clothes.”

“Yeah, but I buy cool ones. Like this.” Michael laughed, holding up a tiny shirt with the inscription ‘My mom is hotter than your mom’ printed in bold letters. You had told Michael not to buy, but as you were washing baby clothes one afternoon much like this, you saw the stupid shirt in the pile and almost killed him. “Mum doesn’t think it’s very funny.”

“Neither do I.” You tried to shoot him a disappointed face but Michael was holding up another one that he had pulled out of the pile, his own face contorted into one of fear and major amusement. “Okay, okay, don’t kill me. Calum bought this one.” 

You groaned, wishing Michael had more baby friendly band mates, for written on the shirt was, in liner type, ‘All Daddy wanted was a blowjob’.

"I’m going to kill Calum.” You gritted your teeth, piling clothes in front of you and your expanding belly. Michael let out a soft laugh and then shrugged, maintaining a thoughtful look in his eye.

“Well, it’s kind of true." 

Astrid stepped off of her back porch like she’d done a million times and headed down the wooded hillside toward Berk’s spacious lake. During the hot summer nights, the lakeside was her retreat, refuge, a place to just sit and watch the moon sparkle on the water. It gave her a chance to collect scattered thoughts or mend rocky feelings. It was, in short, her place. 

Astrid walked down the dirt path, winding through the oaks, her flip flops flapping with each step. She neglected a jacket; the June weather permitted bare shoulders. Astrid came around the last hefty rock to the smooth lakeside, where the grass turned to sand, where the sane vanished into the inky midnight waters. Trouble was, someone already had taken her usual spot. 

Hiccup. Again. 

Astrid didn’t halt her walk past the initial hesitation at the sight of him. In the bright moonlight she saw his shaggy-haired head turn in her direction. 

“Hey,” he said, just like he’d said that afternoon. 

“So, you’re back,” Astrid said, walking along the grass. She slipped off her flip flops and walked barefoot across the sand. 

Hiccup sat as close to the water without getting his shoes wet. 

“Yeah,” he said. 

Astrid pulled her lip between her teeth. She’d gotten nothing more than a one-word response from him. Time for some answers. She sat down on the sand beside him, just within arm’s reach.

“Back for good or just back for a while?” Astrid stared out over the water; she didn’t want to worry him with her glances.

“I-I don’t know,” Hiccup said. 

“What’s there to know?”

Hiccup shrugged. “I came back to visit my dad.”

“I heard as much.” 

Hiccup scoffed. “Berk’s still talking about me.” 

Astrid laughed. “That’s what happens when you vanish for three years. People will talk about it.” 

She looked over her shoulder. Hiccup’s moonlit face wore the same frown she’s seen all day. 

“It is that terrible around here?” 

“Terrible isn’t the word I would have used,” Hiccup said. 

“Which word would you have used, then?” 

Hiccup half-laughed and shrugged.

“Humor me,” Astrid said with a smile. She turned her body toward him. “For old times’ sake.”

“What old times?” he said immediately. “The time you punched him on the dock? I fell into the lake. In the winter.”

Astrid smiled, holding her laughter inside. “I remember that.”

“Or the time Snotlout shut pushed me into his locker and no one noticed I was gone until lunch?”

“He hasn’t gotten much better.”

“Or the time when the twins filled my boots with chum?”

“That was so gross.” Astrid could still smell it. She shook her head. “Does that mean you’ve made new friends in your new eastern sanctuary?” 

“I guess you can say that,” Hiccup said. 

Astrid flicked sand with her big toes; she needed to repaint the red. “I’m sorry about all that. We were just kids. We didn’t know any better.” 

“Doesn’t make it right.”

“Of course it doesn’t,” Astrid said. “Nothing will.”

Hiccup stretched out his legs. He adjusted his right foot in the sand.

“Why not take your shoes off? You’ll get sand all in them.” 

“I’m fine,” he said quickly. He twitched away from her. 

“Hiccup,” Astrid said, tired of his attitude. “You’re going to have to get over all that stupid stiff we did when we were kids. No one like a grudge-holder. Especially a grumpy one.” 

Hiccup sighed. “Fine, if it makes you happy, I accept your apology.” 

“I don’t like the sass in your tone.” 

“Can’t help it.” 

“I know,” Astrid said. She leaned over and pressed her knuckles in to his shoulder. He flinched, but she didn’t hit him again. She laughed. “Don’t worry, the ‘two for flinching’ went out of style about three hours ago.”

“Lucky me.” 

An idea struck and Astrid jumped to her feet. “Hey, if it makes you hate me a little less, you can push me in to the lake. Come on.” 

Astrid took a jump toward the wooden dock that stretched out over the deeper water. It wasn’t terribly deep, ten feet at its deepest in these waters. Hiccup didn’t move. He looked at her as if she might have gone crazy, with a distrust that she hated. She reached out her hand and wiggled it at him. 

He laughed. “You’ll just push me in again.” 

“No, I won’t. I promise I will not push you into the water,” she said word by word. 

Hiccup sighed and eyed her. He drew his legs up and pushed up to his feet. “Fine, then, if it’ll get you off my back.”

Astrid grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the dock. She could pull him into the water, she had promised to not push him in. Loophole. However, she doubted it would make him like her anymore. Of course, if she’d had to grow up with her, she’d hate herself, too. 

The wood of the dock met her bare feet. Hiccup said nothing as she pulled him along the dock’s length. The still waters rocked up against the wooden pillars, night bugs sang in the forest all around, the only light came from the moon. Romantic in all sense of the word. Astrid stopped at the edge of the dock, on the last board before it dropped into the waters. Hiccup stood within arm’s distance of her. 

“So,” Astrid said, “here we are.”

“Yeah.” Hiccup nodded. He glanced down at their hands, still clasped together. He gave her fingers a squeeze. 

“Sorry,” Astrid said. She wiggled her fingers around his. “Your hands are really rough.”

Hiccup half-laughed and looked down at their hands. “Yeah, I, uh, started woodworking.”

“That’s cool,” Astrid said. “What kind of things do you make?” 

“I finished a coffee table before I came up here,” Hiccup said. “Mom’s neighbor tore down an old pole barn and I got this distressed old oak from it. I’ve already sold the coffee table and the guy wants matching side tables.” 

“Wow, you’ve got your own business going,” Astrid said. She ran her finger along his. A callus covered his fingertip. “That’s more than Snotlout can say. He’s spending another year in school. He got held back. Couldn’t pass the math.”

Hiccup laughed. “Doesn’t surprised me. What about you? Any big plans for the future?” 

“School,” Astrid said. “I’ve got a good chance to go to State with a full scholarship, between gymnastics and academic, I’m golden.”

“You are,” Hiccup said. “Always have been.”

“What?” 

“Mom said that you were one of those girls that could do anything she wanted. You wouldn’t want to be president. You’d want to be the president’s boss.”

Astrid laughed. “I would. Strange she knows me that well. Of course, she’s like you, quiet but freaky smart and observant.”

It might have been tricks with by the moonlight, but Astrid would have sworn she saw him blush. She took a step close to see it better. His green eyes flashed up at her and he moved. In that instant she thought he would push her into the water, like agreed upon, but instead she felt his hand on her arm, his chest against hers, and his lips at her mouth. 

She’d only kissed Hiccup Haddock once in the sixth grade; he had gotten much better at kissing since then. He pulled her into him and bent his head just right, curving his body into her and making it a perfect fit for her to curve into him. His lips moved with determination, no hesitation plagued him. Astrid touched his sharp jaw and slid her hand into his hair. His tongue pushed past her lips and she let him; she’d never been frenched before. 

The kiss ended before she would have liked. She held Hiccup close as long as she could, listening to his breaths, feeling his pulse under her palm. His hand fell from her waist and he took the smallest of steps away. His hands met her shoulders and in the stunned moment, he shoved her backward. 

Her back hit the cool lake surface and the water splashed around her. It took a moment to gather herself. Hiccup stood on the other side, disjointed by the shifting water, with his arms crossed, laughing by the looks of his jiggling shoulders. Astrid swam and broke the surface, and spit water at him. 

“You little shit!” 

“That’s not the first time I’ve been called that.” Hiccup still laughed. He took a deep breath. “Okay, now we’re even.”

Patrick Sharp and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Dog

Title: Patrick Sharp and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Dog 

Author: Madelyn

Summary: There’s only one Patrick for puppy!Tazer.

Spoiler: It’s the less pretty one.

Notes: So here’s 5K of puppy!Tazer. It might be set in the same universe that forochel started and I hopped onto a couple years ago. But I might have changed/ignored some of that verse’s details, IDK. Basically, this is a universe where Jonathan Toews turns into a small golden retriever when he gets stressed/needs (go with it) to turn into a dog, and everyone around him knows/accepts this. I decided to start writing this one yesterday because it seems like we’re all having kinda shitty days/weeks, so here’s to you, my fellow shitty week compatriots.

This is wholly unbetaed, but thanks to ninjaboots for nobly audiencing and sobbing at ridic puppy pics with me.

Warnings: There are some sad puppy images along the way. It gets better.

**This post is super image heavy. I would not attempt to read it on a phone, unless you want your phone to die. If you are trying to get a new phone through phone dying action, then - by all means, let me be of service.

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@excalibent said:

I don’t know if you’ve answered this, but - how did you even find Golden Bat in the first place? It’s triggered an entire phenomena around your blog for the last few months or something, and it’s incredibly entertaining.

Oh, wow!  Did you really miss the beginning of it all?

I’ll explain it briefly here, but it’d be better for you to just go to the beginning of my “golden bat” tag and see it all for yourself.  Basically, one day my old roommate–who is half Japanese and speaks the language fluently; this is crucial to the story–was browsing NicoNicoDouga and found a super-old anime called “Ougon Bat.”  Vaguely curious, she clicked on a few videos and immediately called me over.

“Hailey, come over here, I think you might like this.”

So she showed me: a skeleton that looked like he was a bad superhero OC created by Erik, the Phantom of the Opera.  At this point both of us were horribly fascinated, so we watched the first episode in Japanese and proceeded to watch everything else we could find, including the movie from 1966, a couple Fantasmagorico episodes in Spanish…  And then we found Fantaman, the Italian dub, which I would later watch every episode of  and revel in its stupidity.

But late that night, at like 2AM or so, my roomie turns to me again and says:

“You know what you oughtta do.”

“What.”

“You should… spam your followers.”

“What, with Golden Bat?”

“Yes.”

“They won’t know who he is.”

“I know.”

And so I spammed everyone with Golden Bat at two in the morning.  As I expected, I had a bunch of questions in my inbox in a matter of minutes.  They started out with confusion and curiosity–”what is this golden skeleton, Squiggly”–and, as my response to each question was simply another image of the Golden Bat, the questions began to turn more urgent.  “Are you all right?  Is this account hacked?  Squiggly WHAT is going on”

And I just kept responding with more pictures of Fantaman.

The next day I wound up explaining what that was all about, and… well, what began as a joke and a meme turned into genuine fascination with the character and series, and here we are today.

Warning, folks: never start to like something ironically.  It won’t be ironic for long.

2

“Dis?”

She called out, after having wandered about between all the gallivanting sorts that mingled about the ball. It’d taken some time for her to gather the courage, but she’d wanted to do this since she arrived.

It only seemed nice, right?

She greeted the gracious host with a smile, nodding her head to him and clearing her throat. “Hello, I’m Riley. It’s very nice to meet you. I do hope you are enjoying your party.” She gave a soft chuckle, holding out the small box to him.

“Caught wind this is also in celebration for your birthday so…I thought, since you were sweet enough to invite us, I wanted to give you something. It isn’t much but..I thought you might like it.”

Were he to take it and open the box, before him would be a lovely woven, golden pin with three well cut ruby gems adorning it.

“Wasn’t really sure if you were one for broaches but, something told me this would look nice on you. Maybe sometime later tonight, we could have a nice chat hm? I would be up for it.” Didn’t want to seem like she was asking too much but, since catching wind of him, she thought it’d be nice to get to know him a little better.

“Well, I’ll be mingling a bit, but I hope you enjoy your party. Thank you again Dis.”

maykitshel requested: “Sheldon and Amy enjoy a day in an amusement park? Or Legoland?”

I wrote one where they went to the fair and a couple where they went to Disneyland.  None at Legoland before now.  I’ve never been to Legoland, and this was a good excuse to read a wiki page on it and watch way too many videos.  Always a good time.

Anyway, thanks for the prompt!  I hope you enjoy.

Keep reading

I, Witness

We’re back.

Was that the best episode ever? No. But it had a huge list of tasks that it had to accomplish – explain what happened during the time jump, work on mending the breach between Crane and Abbie, re-introducing us to Jenny, introducing Pandora and Betsy, plus a case of the week – and it did it all ably along with some wonderfully moving bits and some laugh-out-loud moments. If this is what we have to look forward to, I can’t wait to see what’s next. Let’s get into it:

  • OH HEY NO FAKEOUT COLD OPEN. What a pleasant surprise! And this really was the right way to start things. It was a passing of the torch, of sorts, Headless giving way to the new baddie in town while ably demonstrating that however bad Headless is, Pandora can whup his ass with a song. And even though Headless is off the table for now (though he can come back!), it felt like this was acknowledging what made Headless a great villain, as opposed to what he became. So even if we don’t get him, I hope we get that feeling back. 
  • The song Pandora sings, “Who Killed Cock Robin?” is, like the song she sings later, an English nursery rhyme about birds. It lists a number of birds. Interestingly, it could be a recounting of the death of Baldur in Norse myth, which basically involves Baldur (god of light) being murdered by Loki (god of mischief, not Tom Hiddlestone) with an assist from his hapless brother Hoor. So, maybe something to keep an eye on.
  • Does Pandora’s box remind anyone of the Ghostbuster pack thingies? Just me?
  • Current sexuality; Abbie smashing dudes in the face with a trash can lid.
  • Then Abbie goes from beating him in the face to reassuring him, telling him he’ll be protected, advocating for him because, of course, she’s been in shoes not so different from his. God I’ve missed you, Miss Grace Abigail. Throughout this episode we have moment after moment reminding us of Abbie’s greatest strength: her empathy. And it’s beautiful.
  • THE SWELLING ICHABBIE THEME WHEN ABBIE LOOKS AT CRANE FOR THE FIRST TIME. The fact that she has to laugh and look away lest this becomes something too deep too fast. The Romantic Lead look on Crane’s face when he sees her! 
  • So it seems that Crane did tell Abbie in some way that he was going to “clear his head,” and just never came back. That’s better than just leaving. You’re marginally forgiven.
  • “I required solitude. Then it became a habit. A deeply regrettable one.” Don’t we all know this feeling? You need to be alone, to heal, to remember who you are, but then it becomes easier and easier to be an island. And by the time maybe you don’t want to be alone anymore, you’re too far from shore to find your way back. This is very believable to me, especially for someone grieving.

Keep reading

music post incoming

hey kids! so a few of you have asked me what i thought of “Under the Covers,” and I figured rather than respond directly I’d just put a post together here!

I loved it. I really did. And I swear that’s not coming from a biased, “ I run a blog basically dedicated to Dan Avidan” point of view. It’s a fantastic album, but I also grew up listening to a lot of synthy stuff like that, so it’s a bit of my vibe. I like a ton of different music, but that 80′s/90′s synth sound will always have a special place in my heart, so I like it. I can see how it might not be for everyone though.

My favorite track off the album, without a doubt, is “Your Love.” Not only is it a great cover, it is an absolute improvement over the original. I don’t care if some diehard “The Outfield” fan is reading this right now, I will fight you. NSP’s cover is 100x better than the original. It’s one of the best tracks at showcasing Dan’s golden voice and crazy range. I can’t even listen to the original anymore. NSP’s version has so much more depth and power behind it. FUck Dan Avidan has a great voice.

“Misunderstanding” and “Subdivisions” are close runner ups. They really owned those songs and made them their own. 

So, tl;dr, I really think Danny, Brian and TWRP put together a fantastic album. Hey also, here are some links to the band Danny has mentioned in the past few Grumps episodes. If you like NSP and Under the Covers, you’ll probably like them, too. The band is called Night Runner. This is the youtube channel Danny referenced, but it doesn’t belong to the artist, so you might want to check out their official soundcloud here.