then again when do i have a clue what i'm drawing

of pirates and/or princes

I had to do something for CCF, in anticipation of Sunday’s finale. I’m on mobile so no formatting, and I apologize for no cut. But thanks to @shipsxahoy for looking this over!!


Another night, another tavern. In the days since their unexpected and undesired arrival in the Enchanted Forest, David and Killian had sought out any means to get back home to Storybrooke—and, most importantly, Emma and Henry. It was a position they’d been in all too many times, and Killian especially was near-frantic in his need to get back to his wife.

(Wife. David’s daughter was a wife. His best friend was now a husband. There were times that he had to pinch himself because he was just so damn happy for them—and all the more determined to see them reunited.)

After exhausting the normal routes—fairies, generous witches, Regina’s vault—Hook was quick to suggest that perhaps they turn their attention to the less-than-legal ways of acquiring magical items, with which he was all too familiar. Which was how David found himself accompanying the pirate to all manner of disreputable dive in their quest for something—anything—to let them travel realms. He generally let Killian take the lead, as he was the one who actually had any skill in dealing in this apparently convoluted black market that David didn’t even know existed. But all leads thus far had ended up dead ends.

Tonight, they found themselves near the docks of one of the coastal villages. David was having an odd sense of deja vu that he actually had been to this bar before, but that train of thought was interrupted by Killian’s cursing.

“Bloody hell…he made it back.” He was staring across the pirate-filled tavern at a dark corner, where a rowdy group of men looked to be playing dice.

“Who did?”

“Blackbeard.” The disdain with which Hook uttered the name was only rivaled in level of disgust when he was addressing the Dark One. David’s hand instinctively went to his sword; this man couldn’t be good news. Before he could say anything, though, Killian plowed on. “Come on; let’s talk to him.”

“Are you crazy? You just sounded like you wanted to murder him.”

“Aye, I do. But he has unusually sticky fingers when it comes to magic beans, and the last I saw him, I’d left him in Neverland. He has to have something.”

David let Killian take the lead, following closely behind, as had become their plan of attack. The name Hook still rang fear into the hearts of many of those they encountered, and even if it hadn’t, his profound skills of charm and intimidation did the trick. If anyone noticed that a fearsome pirate captain was now accompanied by a prince, they didn’t dare comment on it.

“Jones, is that you? Manage to fight off the little boys, I take it?”

“At least I fought, instead of running off like a coward. What cockamamie scheme got you out of Neverland?”

“Seems unfair to mock my methods when they work. Especially when something tells me you’re after one again.”

Though David stood behind where Killian had taken a seat, he could see the tense set of his shoulders and the clench of his jaw. And he was really starting to hate this Blackbeard bastard, too. He cautiously stepped closer, not because he didn’t trust Killian to keep his cool, but because he was concerned what the other pirate might do.

“Tell me how you did it,” Killian demanded through gritted teeth.

“Why? So you can get back to that woman again?” David’s hand gripped the hilt of his sword and Killian sat up straighter. “And what do you even have to offer? The ship that you already owe me?”

“I can get it to you now.”

“Save it,” Blackbeard snarled, standing. David came a step closer, but Killian motioned for him to stop. Why wasn’t he standing his ground? “You come in here, acting all high and mighty and expecting me to help you out again. All that got me last time was chased through the woods by some adolescents and forced me to use my last bean to get back.”

Killian’s fist was clenched and David swore he could see the wheels turning in his friend’s head. He was the cleverest man David knew, but Blackbeard was clearly dangerous, so the prince quickly had to form a plan of his own.

“My advice to you, Hook?” Blackbeard sneered. “Get over the girl, and get out of my sight.”

“Or what?” Killian spat back.

“Or I make you,” Blackbeard answered, drawing his sword and leveling it at his foe. “You soft-bellied, heartsick, simpering—”

“HEY!” David finally roared, charging in. “That’s His Royal Highness, Prince Killian of Misthaven to you!”

The pirates—both of them—stared at him, slack-jawed.

“Mate…” Killian started, shocked and soft-spoken, but he was cut off by guffaws from the other man.

“Prince Killian? Ha!” Blackbeard was laughing so hard, he dropped his sword. “A pirate turned a prince! That’s the most ridic—”

His speech was halted by the sudden presence of a blade at his throat—David’s, and he wasn’t letting up.

“I’m guessing you’ve already probably got several strikes against you, being a pirate. I can’t imagine murdering a royal would look good, should you happen to be arrested by the local law enforcement—who I happen to be in charge of.”

Blackbeard gulped.

“So: can you help us or not?”

“N-no, Your Majesty,” the pirate stammered. “Like I said, used my last bean.” David pressed his blade harder; the man was withholding information. “B-but, there’s a beanstalk not far from here. That’s where I get them.”

Without a word, David turned to leave; he heard Killian’s steps fall in behind him a moment later. They had another mission and knew without speaking that they needed to get to it as soon as possible. But that annoying voice just had to shout out one more time.

“Love made you soft, Hook. Don’t think that you’ll ever be welcome ‘round these parts again.”

They stopped in their tracks, and David turned to look at Killian, who was studying the floor in brief thought. He then faced Blackbeard and pointed. “Why would I want to hang around a group of lonely, pathetic men? Don’t let me see your ugly face again or I will unleash the full wrath of the Royal Family upon you.”

Killian turned on his heel and plowed past David out of the tavern. David glared at Blackbeard one last time before following.

Outside, they mounted their horses and headed back to the castle, settling into a comfortable silence as they rode into the night.

Finally, Killian spoke up. “I appreciate your help, mate; Blackbeard is a terrible son of a bitch and brings out the worst in me. I was ready to slay him on the spot.”

“Hey, what are fathers-in-law for?” David replied, shrugging it off.

“I especially appreciate you making up that bit about me being royalty. I’d no clue that bastard feared the crown so.”

David was taken aback—Killian didn’t know? “You think I made that up?”

“Wait—what?” He was clearly surprised.

“I wasn’t lying about that. You’re married to a princess; that’s your title to use. How do you think I got mine?”

Killian was in silent thought for a moment before finally observing, “I always thought Captain would be my only title; my crew the closest thing to a family. I'm…” he trailed off. “I’m happy to see that’s changed.”

David couldn’t see his face clearly in the dark, but he could hear a shy smile. He clapped him on the shoulder, commenting, “I’m glad, too.”

“So. Off to a beanstalk?”

“Yup. And remind me to find you a crown from the royal stores before we head home,” he teased.

He expected Killian to jab back, but only thoughtfully added, “Can you grab one for Emma, too?”

“Of course. But first, Your Highness, let’s get that bean.”

“Aye, Your Majesty.”


Tagging some of the best BROTP'rs out there: @kat2609 @nfbagelperson @thesschesthair @gusenitsaa @lynyrdwrites @mryddinwilt @xpumpkindumplingx @optomisticgirl @captainswanismyendgame @fergus80 @ive-always-been-a-pirate @fairytalesandtimetravel @laschatzi @kmomof4 and I’m prolly forgetting people but I love you all

Duly Noted

Request: i love your writing so much!! i was wondering if i could request a newt x reader imagine, where the reader has a learning disability like dyslexia and newt asks her to read an excerpt from his notes and she begins to get frustrated because she’s trying to read it and understand it without newt finding out about her LD but he eventually figures it out and tries to find spells that’ll help her with her LD and an overall fluffy ending 

Word Count: 2,067

Pairing: Newt x Reader

Tag List: @dont-give-a-bother @red-roses-and-stories @caseoffics @myrtus-amongst-the-stars @ly–canthrope @benniesgalaxy @studyforthreehands @thosefantasticbeast2 @whatinbenaddiction

Almost forgot: Special thanks to @drdanwrites for helping unstick this stuck story. Lots of love!

You groan, pulling a pillow down around your ears in a weak attempt to block out the rattle of the alarm clock nearby. Unfortunately, your pillows aren’t the fluffiest and your clock isn’t the quietest, so you’re forced out of bed, feet landing on the cool wood of the spare bedroom Newt’s let you crash in.

“I know, I know. It’s time for work.” You grumble, running a hand over your face and standing. The day’s starting and you have plenty of work to do, but you aren’t ready. December’s the worst month, the cold leaking into the room from unseen cracks and crevices, constantly nipping at your cheeks and hands and nose, forcing yourself into oversized sweaters and fuzzy socks.

Slipping into that outfit now, you pad out into the hallway, fully expecting to see Newt standing in the kitchen with his back to you as he works on tea. He isn’t there.

Instead, in the spot usually reserved for his various research notes and equipment, you find a slip of paper. Your chest sinks. Reading.

Only a couple of paragraphs fill the paper, but Newt’s handwriting isn’t the easiest to read in the best of circumstances, and when the letters are mixing around, it becomes nearly impossible to decipher exactly what he’s saying.

Determined to understand, you lift the paper to your face, staring it down and focusing as best you can. The letters swirl, mixing and flipping and dancing all around.

Minutes pass before you’ve made sense of the first few sentences. I have an errand to run. The case is in the back room, but you don’t need to worry about feeding the creatures, no matter what Pickett says.

Tears fill your eyes as you scan the rest of the sheet. There’s so much more he wants you to know, so much more he expects from you. And, honestly, so much more you expect from yourself. How hard, after all, should it be to read a few paragraphs? Even children can do it. Why can’t you? Why can’t you just get the letters to stay in their place? Why can’t you figure out why you mind won’t work the way it’s supposed to? More tears gather in your eyes as you stare down at it. Words. So many words you should understand, all a jumbled mess of letters and words and sentences. What’s really the point? You’re not going to understand anyway.

Growling in frustration, you drop the note back onto the table.

At the same time, the front door clicks open, and the unmistakable sound of Newt’s boots creaking over the floorboards sounds. He holds a small, white bag in his hand, not setting it down even as he shimmies out of his jacket.

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krigeren23  asked:

I asked for a prompt that's about a 'game night' with Kara, Lena, Alex & Maggie. I'd like to know if you could add or make another (if you can) with a 'Truth or Dare' or 'Spin the Bottle' game where Maggie dares Lena or Kara into kissing or doing stuff so when Alex & Maggie make their leave Kara & Lena can finish what they started. Kind of like the one with Clark seducing Lena with more Maggie/Lena, Kara/Maggie & Alex/Lena interactions. I'm so sorry if I'm asking too much. It's just an idea. 😅

^^Fun Fact; I have the same secret talent as Maggie :D

‘So it’s just the four of us again tonight?’ Maggie asked as her and Alex went to put the food in the kitchen.

‘Yep’ Alex replied as she balanced a tower of pizza boxes on her arm.

'So what’s going on between the two of them?’ Maggie questioned.

Alex just looked at her, a confused look on her face.

'Oh come on! You’re telling me you haven’t seen the way they act round each other?’ Maggie asked incredulously and nodded towards the sofa where Lena was twirling a strand of hair around a finger.

Alex shrugged, 'They’re just friends…’

Maggie tilted her head and gave Alex a pointed look.

'What..?’ Alex exclaimed.

'That’s lesbian activity Danvers…’ Maggie teased and smiled when Kara giggled loudly at something Lena said, 'case in point…’ she continued.

'Lena and Kara..? Is Lena gay?’ Alex questioned, 'I’ve been wondering about Kara… she always got too flustered around Cat… and she did tell me she wanted to date Lucy that one time…’

'Oh Lena is definitely gay’ Maggie said confidently as she grabbed two beers from the fridge.

'Quite confident there, aren’t you Sawyer?’ Alex grinned.

'The rolled up sleeves? The popped shirt collar? Total Power Lesbian.’ Maggie stated as she handed one of the beers to Alex.

'Hmmm’ Alex hummed as she turned towards the sofa and tilted her head in a move she had subconsciously picked up from Maggie, 'I’m still not sure I see it…’

'I bet they just need a little bit of a push…’ Maggie said thoughtfully.

'A bet? Wana make it interesting?’ Alex grinned.

'What did you have in mind?’ Maggie retorted, a gleam in her eye.

'Winners choice?’ Alex shrugged.

Lena glanced up from the sofa, barely managing to draw her eyes away from Kara, and spotted Alex and Maggie talking in hushed tones by the fridge.

'You two love birds going to join us?’ She called out with a raised eyebrow.

'When did you guys get here with food?!’ Kara exclaimed excitedly.

Alex rolled her eyes and picked up the potstickers, Maggie follow behind with the pizza and napkins.

'Oh I’m totally winning’ Maggie whispered to Alex as they walk towards the sofa.

'What makes you so sure’ Alex quizzed.

'We walked in with pizza and pot stickers ten minutes ago and Kara has been too engrossed with Lena to notice’ Maggie said with a smug smile.

They settled down to eat; Kara taking an entire pizza to herself. The conversation quickly turned to which game they should play.

'Not Monopoly!’ Maggie exclaimed, 'Lena totally thrashed us last time- I’ve never meet anyone so ruthless in my life!’

'Then I’m vetoing Clue, Detective’ Lena smirked.

An idea hit Maggie and she grinned triumphantly as she exclaimed 'we should play Truth or Dare!’ She was determined to win this bet.

Alex almost choked on her beer while Kara grinned, her cheeks full of pot stickers.

'How very… old school…’ Lena chucked, 'I’m in, let me grab another glass of wine.’

The game started off relatively tame, full of the usual questions and dares; what’s your secret talent? What’s your guilty pleasure? Sing something from Frozen!

This is how they discovered that Maggie could do ‘the worm’, Alex still had a Spice Girls album on her iPod and Kara, much to Lena’s amazement could sing, really sing!

Lena’s turn came up and Maggie dived in as quickly as she could; 'So Lena, truth or dare?’

'Truth’ Lena grinned and took a sip of her wine.

Maggie decided to go for it; she took a deep breath, a confidant smirk on her face and asked, 'Who was your first girlfriend?’

Lena arched an eyebrow in surprise. 'Veronica at boarding school’ she replied coyly.

Kara spluttered.

'Veronica… as in Veronica Sinclair? Roulette!?’ Kara asked in shock.

'The very same, obviously minus the snake tattoo…’ Lena laughed as she took in Kara’s surprised face.

Kara didn’t know what to say; she was aware there was a bit of a flirtatious nature to their relationship, but if Lena liked women… that changed things.

Maggie just cocked an eyebrow at Alex.

That doesn’t mean anything!’ Alex mouthed back.

‘I think it’s your turn Detective’ Lena stared at Maggie, an evil gleam in her eye.

‘Truth’ Maggie replied, retaining eye contact with Lena.

‘You ever used your handcuffs in the bedroom?’ Lena smirked.

Maggie just grinned and took a swig of her beer; the colour adorning Alex’s cheeks answering the question for her.

‘That’s an image I really didn’t need…’ Kara shook her head.

The very next moment Lena and Kara both reached for the final pot sticker, their fingertips brushing as they hovered over the plate.

'You have it’ Kara smiled shyly.

Alex hit Maggie repeatedly on the leg as she watched Kara relinquish the last pot sticker to Lena with a puppy dog smile, the pair of them not losing eye contact.

'You see it now?’ Maggie hissed.

'Kara just gave Lena the last pot sticker! Kara has never given me the last one!’ Alex whispered her eyes wide. 'Oh my god, they’re totally in love…’

'And you’re totally wearing that little red number I love when we get home…’ Maggie grinned and wiggled her eyebrows.

‘So how do we get them to… you know’ Alex said quietly as she mimed kissing with her hands.

‘Follow my lead Danvers’ Maggie chuckled as Lena and Kara remained oblivious to anyone outside their bubble, ‘pick dare’ she mouthed.

Maggie cleared her throat as Lena brushed a stray strand of hair out of Kara’s face.

‘I pick a dare’ Alex said, unable to unsee the little glances her sister and the CEO kept throwing at each other, or the way Kara’s hand remained on Lena’s knee.

‘I dare you to kiss me Danvers’ Maggie interjected quickly.

Alex giggled and leaned over to place a quick kiss onto Maggie’s lips, her eyebrows shot up when Maggie pulled her in for a passionate kiss. When they pulled away their gazes lingered on each other and Maggie bit her lip thinking of what she was planning to do to Alex when they got home. When they both came back down Kara was bouncing in her seat.

‘My turn!’ She squeaked, ‘Dare!’

‘Well it’s only fair that since Alex and I kissed, that you and Lena kiss… So…’ Maggie raised her eyebrow and looked pointedly from Kara to Lena.

‘Why does Maggie get to come up with all the dares!?’ Kara exclaimed, trying not to think about how her lips would feel against Lena’s.

‘Coz I’m the best Little Danvers’ Maggie grinned.

‘I don’t know if I should feel offended…’ Lena pouted.

‘pfft’ Kara splutted, ‘who wouldn’t want to kiss you!’

Maggie snorted.

‘Can… Can I kiss you?’ Kara asked suddenly nervous and not wanting to freak Lena out.

‘I can’t have you forfeit a dare now, can I?’ Lena flirted playfully.

Kara’s tongue darted out to wet her lips as she leaned in closer to Lena; she heard a spike in Lena’s heart rate the split second before their lips met.

Kara gently pressed their lips together and felt her stomach flip; Lena’s lips were softer than she ever could have imagined. Lena brought her hands up to cup Kara’s face as she deepened the kiss, her tongue slowly swiping over Kara’s bottom lip.

Kara moaned as Lena’s tongue slipped into her mouth.

Maggie nudged Alex and tilted her head towards the door, ‘we should leave them to work this all out…’ Maggie mouthed. Alex nodded and grabbed their coats as they slipped as quietly as they could out the door.

Finally Kara and Lena broke away from the kiss, their foreheads pressed together.

‘Wow’ Kara murmured.

‘Hmmmm’ Lena bit her lip.

They turned to face Alex and Maggie and found the sofa was empty.

Kara smiled at Lena and pressed the remote to switch on the TV, before snuggling down into Lena’s arms.

Meanwhile, Maggie and Alex walked down the stairs hand in hand in a comfortable silence.

‘So, err, the red lace number was it?’ Alex asked with a slight glint in her eyes.

Maggie just grinned and slid her hand into the back pocket of Alex’s jeans.

anonymous asked:

I'm not sure if this has already been done or not... but could you do the host's reaction if someone was flirting with their S/O? (PS I love you're writing! This is one of my favorite blogs! ^~^)

Thank you so much! It makes me so happy that this blog could even possibly be anyone’s favorite. I hope you like it! (Again, I’m still trying to get back to where I was before so I hope its not as bad as I think it is, I’m sorry!) <3 <3

Tamaki: At first he let it go, thinking that he might just be over reacting as he knows he has a tendency to. Quickly though, the comments and light touches the person placed on your arm snow balled within him. Tamaki’s mood would transform swiftly from tolerance to agitation to pure possessiveness. Tamaki normally isn’t one to try and make a claim over you, but after listening to someone else try to make a move on you, it was too much. With a bright summer he put his arm over your shoulder, resting his chin happily on your shoulder. If that wasn’t enough of a clue for the person flirting with you, he would move to kiss you on the cheek, showing them that they had no chance with you. You were taken.

Kyoya: The second Kyoya heard someone flirting with you, he would try to end it. If the situation allowed he would approach you and the other person calmly, asking you kindly if you would be able to leave the conversation and go with him somewhere. Whether that is the snack table if you are at a casual party or asking you to meet a business partner if you are at a more formal event, it doesn’t matter. If that wouldn’t work he would ask the other person one simple and quick question while resting one hand on the small of your back. “So what were you and my significant other talking about again?”

Hikaru: The very instant Hikaru caught wind of someone flirting with you, he was at your side. His arm wrapped around your waist, fingers drifting playfully on your side. The glare he directed at the person who had just been flirting with you would be sharp enough to cut steel. There would be no doubting that he was not happy, and in all honesty Hikaru didn’t even try to pretend that he wasn’t consumed with jealousy. You were his, it was as simple as that. No one else had any right to try and take you away from him. You. Were. His.

Kaoru: He was conflicted. Kaoru was unsure whether he should make it clear that you were with him right away, or maybe if it would be better just to ignore the person flirting with you. This internal conflict makes him a little slow to the draw when it comes to stopping the other person from flirting with you. He didn’t like to see someone else act like that with you, but he didn’t want to be rude to you… The second the person’s flirting moved from words to touching, that was the moment when Kaoru had enough. Deftly, he pulls you into a back hug, effectively pulling you away from the person.”Can I get you something babe?” He would ask you, giving a pointed look to the person who had just been flirting with you.

Mori: He trusts you, he really does and that is why he doesn’t immediately react to someone else flirting with you. His lack of reaction doesn’t mean he doesn’t notice however. If the person’s way of flirting was throwing in a stray comment every now and then, Mori would be able to suppress the small seed of jealousy that would form in his chest. If the person was actively and unabashedly flirting with you, then he would be forced to show this person who you were with. With a kind smile directed at you, he would wrap his arm around your waist, pulling you close to his side. If that wasn’t enough of a hint for the other person he would carefully interject a story about one of your past dates, being very clear about the fact that his story was from a date that you two had gone on together as a couple.

Hani: One comment was allowed. You were so perfect, everyone had to want you, so he could humor them for that. One comment. Unfortunately for the person flirting with you, they didn’t stop there. As the second remark left their lips, Hani was at your side, fully wrapped around you. “You’re so sweet, you should be the one called ‘Honey’ not me! What do you think about that ____? Can I call my girlfriend ‘Honey’ from now on?” His voice was sweet as he begged you. The glare that he directed the person flirting with you was anything but, however.

Haruhi: There was no avoiding the issue with her. No pretending that she was going to let them continue to flirt with you, and no hints dropped to try to cue them in. She didn’t say anything right away to them, but as the minutes grew longer her face twisted into a grimace. “I’m sorry, but ____ is my significant other. I would appreciate it if you would stop flirting with them. It is making me sort of uncomfortable.” Her voice holding none of the malice that was in her eyes. It was only if the person continued to flirt with you after she asked them politely that she would have a problem.

@scientiaa jay i have no fucking idea what this is rip

noct is three when he meets his soulmate. 

his memory about what was going on exactly is hazy at best, a muddle of don’t feel good and want to sleep mostly, but he remembers the colors. colors he wasn’t supposed to be seeing yet. 

most people didn’t see colors until they were older, like his dad. his dad liked to tell the story about seeing colors for the first time when he saw his mom– she was pretty and laughing during a political function, and when their eyes met, his dad described it as clouds clearing and the sun shining through, warm and brilliant. 

and i knew she was the one, his dad would say, and his mom would laugh and give him a kiss, and noct would be glad they were so happy. 

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Luster [An Abduction Fic] [Part 6]

The story is flagged as non-con on AO3 because of this chapter. I don’t personally know if this counts as non-consensual content though, but definitely dubious.

[Part 1]  [Part 2]  [Part 3]  [Part 4] [Part 5]

On the Astral Plane over the churning sea of souls, Lup finds Kravitz. He reports to her, frustrated and angry, that Taako is not on this plane and therefore is not dead, but his signature, his soul, his very essence, is somewhere beyond his reach as the Grim Reaper.

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anonymous asked:

Fanon Allen: angel. Wouldn't hurt a fly. Canon Allen: get out of my fucking way I'm gonna win this poker game and get all the money, strip everyone naked and leave them in the train with no clothes. No mercy. Innocent who?!

It’s amazing because people get distracted by his angel face and round big eyes and polite speech which is exactly what happens in canon too right before he shows his true colors always - actual Allen will talk shit about random women he’s just met, will hold Bak’s “secret” crush on Lena over his head and threaten him through it, will scare the living shit out of a small child the moment he realizes he’s a small child making him believe he’s been stabbed with a huge ass sword, has and will again yell at the most powerful bad on the whole planet while standing on his back??? - has stripped people naked for money and started stripping himself naked while talking about added prices for it, got in a shouting match with two enemies over who had it worse with their debts (related, had absolutely no qualms telling said enemies that his master was the devil incarnated while they were trying to make him defensive over him and I don’t blame him at all) also anything he’s ever done with Kanda ever, like, that’s a whole category on its own

I mean, Allen’s definitely super sweet and caring and protective of his ideals and the people he loves, but it’s part of his actual plot that somewhere inside him there’s still Red and that a mixture between Allen and Red is his true self and I’ll never stop being amused at how the fandom likes to forget about that tbh

Anon said: Different anon here; you said your creativity was influenced by how much material you get on the subject. Once these characters weeks end, would you be interested in getting some fics written for you? I like your art so it feels like a good way to thank you while also helping you get inspiration for more bokuro, I feel it’d be a win/win situation :) Good luck with all the work you have to do by the way!

I’m always a slut for words my friend !!! Tho I can’t promise whatever you write for me will make me want to draw, I could never and I will never say no to words about my otps haha

Anon said: do you mind other people copying certain aspects of your style? like not exactly the same but for example the way you kinda put the blush colour across the knees and elbows and such? bc i know some artists are kinda picky about that sort of thing

I don’t mind at all, go for it! Most of what I do with my style is a patchwork of things I liked in other people’s styles anyway, it would be really hypocritical of me if I told you I don’t want you to experiment with what you like too - let your creativity be free my friend!

And anyway as long as the hand drawing it is different and you don’t purposefully try to exactly copy something, even things taken from other people’s styles won’t look the same - that’s how art works, after all~

Anon said: hi!! so i was scrolling through your art the other day and it’s really cool to see how much you’ve changed *^^* i love your art so much and i think it’s really inspirational to see obvious improvement i guess? thanks ily good bye

OH MY GOD thank you so much!!!!!! *O* I’m!!!!! really glad you can see my stuff getting better???? AHHHHHH!!!!! what a good ask to get, I’m really happy right now hahaha

Anon said: Kirishima has a bad habit of chewing his pencils when he’s trying to focus and because he has those killer teeth his pencils get fricking destroyed and it stresses everyone out except him so his classmates give him a lot of pencils and he’s bamboozled as to why.

It’s good tho because Kiri doesn’t really realize he needs the pencils himself so he keeps on using his chewed-through ones and hoards the pencils he’s given by the others so when Bakugou’s temper ends up making his pencils explode or Kaminari’s stress fries his into uselessness or Mina inadvertently destroys hers with her acid he can just give them new ones and he feels really good about it

everyone else has no clue how to point out that that’s not why he was given the pencils to begin with because Kiri looks so happy about it too - one day Momo will just make a Crimson Riot pencil with an indestructible material and Kiri will love it so much and they’ll solve the problem once for all haha

Anon said: I seriously can’t get over your chibi style. It’s so cute!

AWWW THANK YOU!!!!! It’s super fun to draw too, so I’m happy you like it!!!!

Anon said: The way you are dodging angst is a true art tbh

Oh my god anon I got bad news for you seems like in the bakushima week I gave in to the soft-sads (note to self: never sketch out prompts when you’re feeling emo for other reasons)

Anon said: does bokuto peel the cheese stick or does he just eat it whole?

Anon as an Italian I have absolutely no clue what a cheese stick is. What is that. What are you feeding your kids anon. I’m concern.

White Shadow

alternatively titled: an ode to married life (hehehe) 

Day 3 of Royai Week:  Catalyst
Rated: K | Words: 1111

It builds up.  Bit by bit, it accumulates slowly within her.

They’re small things she tells herself, but even grains of sand become deserts.

Keep reading

fading away

don’t let me go.

also read on: ao3 // part of “the princess and the paladin” series.
  for @shalluravoltron. cheers to your writing! i held up my end of the deal and wrote a something. what about you? ;)

They only first realize the end is coming when suddenly Allura looks a little paler.

“You feeling sick or something?” Pidge asks Allura at the kitchen counter. Pidge watches her stir hucklejuice and fennycream into her morning drink. “You’re making tea.”

Allura scrunches her eyebrows. Her puzzled expression creates wrinkles over her eye marks. “I always make tea in the morning,” she defends, raising the mug to her lips as if to better prove her point. “And I feel perfectly fine.”

Pidge cocks her head to the left. “Oh, you just seem to have a little less color.”

Pidge takes her glasses off and wipes the lenses on her shirt before putting them back on to examine Allura again. She frowns and then shrugs. “Eh, it’s probably just the lighting,” she says, and then reaches behind her to get her own form of breakfast food — grotler and critgle, something akin to cereal and milk on Earth.

“Hm,” Allura frowns, setting aside the matter and returning to her beverage.

But Allura doesn’t cast off the paladin’s comment, and the words replay over and over in her head. She knows Pidge is astute and never opens her mouth too soon. Allura takes another sip of her tea while raising the back of her hand up to eye level, rocking it back and forth in the light.

And maybe Allura does see some kind of difference, because she slowly slips from the kitchen back to her room, taking her tea with her.

Keep reading

“Draw four, asshole.” Jason set his wildcard on the pile and smiled as serenely as he could at his older brother— which probably wasn’t that serene, given the circumstances. He glanced around the table. “And the color is red.”
Tim fished a red three out of his hand of cards. Damian came up with a red four. The three of them sat quietly while Grayson finished drawing his cards.
Uno tournaments were traditional, when the gang was all together. Jason couldn’t tell you when that started— he just knew that they kept a deck in the batmobile glove compartment. It didn’t seem like something Bruce would let in the house, much less in the car, but there you were— he let it pass. Card games had gotten them all through some dull nights.
Why uno? The wildcards didn’t give anybody flashbacks, for starters.
And games could get intense. Dick was taking the worst of it tonight— he had about a third of the deck fanned between his hands. That tended to happen when you sat between two people who were furious with you.
“You are eventually going to let me play a card, right?” Grayson tapped his fingers against his new cards as he added them to his hand. Jason laid down a red skip, and Dick made a face. “Okay.”
Mmhm, that’s what he got. Jason was really glad they were playing, honestly, because it turned out to be quality aggression relief. They had things to talk through anyway.
“So is Barbara coming?” he asked. She hadn’t responded to his text, but that was pretty standard. He tried not to take it personally.
“I don’t think so,” Grayson said. Tim and Damian played red nine, yellow nine respectively. “She doesn’t really want to be around me right now. Last time we talked she said some harsh things.”
“You’re dead to me?” Jason guessed. He set his last yellow card on the deck. “Sorry, no—that was last week. My bad.” He grinned in Dick’s direction. “Draw two.”
“Get wrecked,” Tim muttered. He laid down his own card— a yellow skip— and handed Dick two from the pile. “Babs isn’t coming.”
“What, so she texts you back?”
“Yeah, unlike you. It’s your turn.” Tim slid his chair a few inches away from Damian, who was scowling at him. “Chill.”
“Well if we’re not waiting for anyone else,” Jason ran through his cards. No yellows. “The meeting can officially come to order.” He laid another wildcard— unfortunately without the drawing bonus— onto the deck and turned to Dick. “You’re a despicable person, and I’m honestly considering setting you on fire. The color is green.”
“Seriously? I have thirty-six cards, but no greens.”
“That’s your problem then. One among many.”
“I missed you too.” Dick reached for the pile and drew another handful of cards, finally coming up with a green five. Tim played a one. “I really did, you know. And I’m glad to be back, even if Damian is the only one that will talk to me.”
Damian played a draw two. “Who’s side are you on?” Jason asked him, reaching for the pile.
“I’m not saying I agree with what he did.” Damian fanned his hand in front of him, rearranging his cards intently. “But I’ve already been forced away from one person that’s important to me, and I’m not doing it twice.”
“Listen…” Jason set his cards on the table. “We’ll figure the Bruce thing out, okay? Don’t worry about it. He always comes back.”
“Don’t we all?” Damian rubbed uncomfortably at his own chest. “Three for four.”
Jason jerked a thumb at Dick, who set a blue draw two on the pile. “That’s not the same, and you know it.”
“If you want to be technical about it, I was dead for about a minute.”
“That offends me on a very deep and very personal level.” Jason glared at Dick. “Wow! A whole minute. That must have been a nightmare. At least you didn’t have crawl your way out of your literal grave.” He pulled down the neckline of his shirt, revealing the tops of his autopsy scars. “These are real.”
Tim took a pair of cards from the pile. “That’s disturbing by multiple definitions, and you need to stop.” He turned to Dick. “But he’s right. That doesn’t qualify as dead, and even if it did, it wouldn’t matter— that was a minute. You were gone for months.”
“You’re right. I don’t mean to make excuses, I just—”
“I’m not finished yet.” Tim set his hand on the table. “You had no right to do that to us. It doesn’t even make logical sense— what exactly were you worried would happen if we knew you were alive? Who did you think we were going to tell? I’ve been keeping your secrets since I was twelve.”
“I’m sorry, Tim.”
“Yeah, you’re sorry. Meanwhile I get to watch literally every member of my family die. It’s a lot of fun. Doesn’t scar you at all. I definitely don’t wake up every morning and feel like screaming into the eternal void that swallows everyone I love.” Tim laughed unsteadily. “And this whole time, you were playing James Bond. I can’t even believe you.”
“It wasn’t fun for me either, you know.”
“Uh huh,” Jason told him, “I’m sure it was awful. Now that I think about it, you probably had it worse than us— I mean, we only went through two deaths in a year. That’s much better than going into deep cover and ‘shouldering the burden’ or whatever it was you said. Definitely.” He twirled a finger in the air. “Hey look at that— it’s a bird! It’s a plane! It’s complete and total bullshit.”
“I’m not saying I had it worse. I’m just saying that it was hard. I didn’t want to leave you guys.”
“Well you did, didn’t you? So now you’re gonna have to live with the consequences. Which are going to be severe, because you hurt a lot of people.” Jason glanced around the table. “Damian. Express emotion.”
Damian carefully set a card on the deck. “I wish you had been here when I got back,” he muttered. “That’s all I have to say.”
“There you have it.” Jason rolled his eyes. “I’m sure being by yourself was really rough. I’m sure you hated it. Really hit a downward spiral, I’m guessing.” Tim sighed loudly— Jason smiled. “I hope whatever you were doing was important.”
“It was,” Dick said. “It wasn’t exactly the Gotham circuit, but I think I still saved lives.”
“Great. Four for you, Dick Grayson! You go, Dick Grayson.” Jason pulled another wildcard from his hand. “But literally, draw four.”
“You’ve been waiting to do that, haven’t you?”
“I think I deserve this.” Jason slid the deck across the table. “Red again.”
“Are you ever going to let this go?” Dick pulled his cards from the pile— at that point he was holding half the deck. “Just curious.”
“I don’t know. If you play your cards right, maybe.” Jason sighed. “You could start with an actual apology.”
“I thought I already gave one.”
“Coded instruction isn’t an acceptable format for saying you’re sorry.” Honestly, did Grayson think that was okay? Jason watched Tim lay down a red eight.
“For all we know, you didn’t mean any of that. Unless you expect us to believe that everything you wanted to tell us magically fit into your damn pattern game. Can you see why I’m a little suspicious here? Kinda shady, if you know what I mean.” Jason rolled his eyes. “You can do better than that. One chance. Use it however you like.” He snapped his fingers into a gun shape. “There— did you get my message?”
“Okay, fine.” Dick took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry I let you guys think I was dead. I’d been through a lot, and I just did what I always do— I kept moving. I tried to start over. Bruce gave me an opportunity to do that, and I took it, but that wasn’t fair to you. I’m not a traveling circus anymore. I have people I can’t leave behind. I should have remembered that.” He sighed. “I put you through hell, and none of you deserved that. I’m sorry.”
Jason didn’t quite know how to follow that, so he stared down at his cards instead. It was a fair apology, but it didn’t make him feel any better— the only thing that had helped so far was punching Dick straight in the face. Maybe he should do that again.
“Uno,” said Damian, laying a red zero on the pile.
“Wait what?”
“Uno,” he repeated. “One card. I’m about to win. As usual.”
“What the hell?” Tim asked. “You had eight cards the last time I checked.
“Then I would assume that was seven rounds ago,” Damian told him. “Todd, it’s your turn.”
“I could make it green?” Jason asked, looking around the table. “Do you think that would fix it?”
“I don’t have a green,” Dick reminded him. “You’d be gambling on me drawing something good. But we could do that.”
“We already used most of the good cards,” Tim said. “I object both on mathematical grounds and because it was Dick’s idea.”
“Thanks, Tim.”
“I’m still mad.”
“Got it.”
“Does he have another red?” Jason stared at Damian’s face, looking for a clue, but Damian stared impassibly back. “If he doesn’t, I could just reverse it.”
“I’m pretty sure you’re cheating,” Damian muttered. “This isn’t a team game.”
“Whatever.” Jason decided to go for it— he played his reverse. The entire table waited for Damian to reach for the pile.
He flipped a red skip onto the deck. “I win.”
“Dammit, Jay!” Tim swept the deck into his hands and started to reshuffle.
“You all owe me a dollar.” Damian stuck his hand across the table. “Unless you want to play again.”
“I should probably…” Dick tried to say, but Jason cut him off.
“Don’t you dare leave.” He pulled a dollar from his pocket and set it in Damian’s outstretched hand. “You owe me two months of time. You’re playing another round.”

anonymous asked:

I read Honenuki got in through recommendation like todoroki and yaoyorozu why do you think he ended up in class B instead of A?

Oh, I’m pretty sure the sorting is somewhat casual - I say somewhat because I think the classes are made trying to keep the overall strength balanced between the two groups, but that’s about it? It’s not like class A is inherently better than class B just because they’re called “A”, it’s mentioned more than once during the story that the potential should be overall the same and the only difference is the battle experience class A has

Anon said: holy shit I lose my shit bc of that text of yours. I mean I knew already how the case was between Baku and Kiri, but it still hit my heart to read that all in one text. I’m so blessed welp X’D

I nearly cried while writing it so guess what you’re not alone anon we can cry together ( ձ ̥̥̥ ヘ ձ ̥̥̥ )

Anon said:  I started watching BNHA because I love your art and I wanted to understand it (came for Haikyuu!! stayed for everything) and oh wow I’m only 7eps in so far but I really like it!!!! Thank you! Your art is incredible keep up the good work! : D

AHHHH THANK YOU!!!!!! I’m glad you’re liking it!!!!!!!!!!!! <3<3

Keep reading

Title: (still undecided. help.)
Fandom: Noblesse.
Desc.: Excerpts from “Noblesse: Except It’s a Mermaid AU”… basically. Characters for the fully-planned fic include: Frankenstein, Cadis Etrama di Raizel, Urokai Agvain, M-21, Takeo, Tao, and other unplanned cameos not yet set in stone. Excerpts are very Frankenstein + Urokai centric, though.
Rating: M (for future chapters ofc).
Current warnings: swearing. Thank you, Urokai.

i - in which Urokai Agvain makes himself (far too) well-known.

Everyone at Harvard, by default, feared Urokai Agvain almost irrationally. He was loud, grated on the nerves of the entire student body (even saints had come to despise this man), and was infamous for making horribly bad and hasty decisions. These decisions, more often than not, blew up right in his face. No one would have complained about that.

That is, had they not been caught up in his mess by coincidence as well. 

Urokai’s decisions not only bordered on the edge of total insanity, but they resulted in a landslide of collateral damage, too. It was a wonder he had been accepted to any school – what was even more astonishing was that he had managed to collect any friends at all.

Frankenstein couldn’t imagine who it was that wanted to be friends with Urokai without wanting something back from him. Maybe they wanted his money? His family’s various clothing and fashion companies? They had to want something.

If not – well, then, whoever happened upon Urokai and managed to like him clearly had some penchant for collecting insane things.

Urokai, the man himself, unfortunately was one such person. Frankenstein feared that if he ever found such a like-minded friend… well, on that day, he might as well hurl himself off a cliff, because the world would be ending shortly anyway.

However, putting aside his own doubts regarding Urokai Agvain, he had to admit: The fear of their colleagues was most certainly an irrational fear. Because Frankenstein himself had been friends (or well, a perversion of the word and its meaning, at least) with Urokai in college.

And he was still friends with Urokai, despite what that might say about his character.

They had been roommates. Beyond his poor practice at the guitar, there was little else about Urokai that could truly harm or scare anyone. Once Frankenstein had gotten to know him well, the redhead was quite tame. And Frankenstein learnt many things about Urokai Agvain. Listed below in Frankenstein’s careful documentation of his college journey are three of these things:

One. He only become intolerable when he desperately wanted something.

Two. He became horribly manic when he was faced with obstacles that could not be solved by his throwing money or designer clothing at them, and when he was manic he threw tantrums.

Three. Urokai’s tantrums were loud.

Terribly, frightening, murderously loud.

And unfortunately for Frankenstein, these three facts – despite all his careful calculations of over six years – had collided into one instant in time.

And even more unfortunately, the victim was none other than himself.

“Frankenstein,” Urokai pleaded, “you’re a doctor!”

“A human doctor, last I was even studying—”

“Still, the only doctor I know!” Urokai practically wailed.

That had to be untrue, because Urokai, with his money and his connections (one couldn’t call most of them friends, not when Urokai chased him off with a biting venom when most tried to inch closer), had to know a multitude of doctors. It was just Frankenstein’s luck that Urokai had decided to latch onto him in particular.

“I will not bring anything into my house,” Frankenstein snapped at him, “and especially not if it’s you telling me to.”

That was untrue. Perhaps Frankenstein would be willing to take under his wing any animal that Urokai offered up to him, perhaps even inclined to take good care of the thing. He knew how Urokai was about his pets; the redhead had practically bawled all night into Frankenstein’s lap when the kitten that they had snuck into their dorm together from a storm, one night during their second year of school, died a week later.

But anything but this particular specimen. Urokai really chose the worst tasks to delegate to Frankenstein. Did he think that Frankenstein was also insane, like him?

“I can’t trust anyone with Rai,” Urokai blubbered, shifting here and there restlessly. It was driving Frankenstein insane. “He’s too fragile, you know? Delicate! I knew it the second I brought him home that I can’t bring him to any old veterinarian! Not a specialist, either – I don’t trust any of them. None of them! Fucking elitist pricks, draining all your money and just shoving twenty prescriptions at you. They’re all going to treat him badly, I know that much. You’re the only one I can trust, it doesn’t even take that much, I bet it’s easy for you! You’re smart! Frankenstein, you can do it? Right? Right, Frankenstein?”

Urokai was lucky that he had someone like Frankenstein who could tolerate him.

ii - in which Urokai delivers his prized specimen.

Urokai’s revered “Rai” arrived, at 4:47AM one early morning, in the back of a noisy pickup truck that roused Frankenstein from his light sleep. Urokai’s irritating excuse of a vehicle could be heard on the other side of the neighbourhood. 

“For Christ’s sake,” Frankenstein griped, shoving the key into the wrought iron gates at the front of his house, “can’t you even keep the things you own quiet?”

“Dragus is old,” Urokai shot back just as quickly, noisily pulling the car past the gate and around the side of Frankenstein’s lawn, “and I needed to bring him in a large enough truck to hide him. One of us needs to think smart.”

“So that’s why you were always at the bottom of the class,” Frankenstein grumbled, dutifully moving out of the way as Urokai flung his door open and headed towards the back of the truck.

“I heard that, motherfucker,” Urokai shouted, but made no move to throw back another retort. He was too busy looking over his shoulder and back and forth at the empty street. Then he flung the old white tarp out of the way of the glass.

Frankenstein’s breath caught in his throat.

“How – how did you get this thing?” he demanded.

“A friend,” said Urokai hastily, “a friend who knew a friend. It’s – it’s maybe not… I wasn’t really thinking about it.”

Illegally! So Urokai had bought a merman – and probably the most gorgeous breed Frankenstein had seen in his life – and he had done it illegally!

“You fucking idiot,” said Frankenstein.

iii - in which Urokai fusses, and fusses, and fusses.

“I think he’s sick,” Urokai said desperately now that he knew Frankenstein’s full attention was on his merman, “I tried everything online, I bought every mermaid-care book, and it’s not working!”

Urokai bought a book. This was serious, then.

All the while, Urokai was heaping symptom upon symptom on Frankenstein, not stopping to even breathe. “He won’t eat,” he said, voice strained, “he won’t sing, or blow bubbles. They’re supposed to blow bubbles, right? Some fish, I read it, it says they blow bubbles when they’re happy!”

“What species is he?”

“I don’t know,” Urokai snapped, and kept going: “I think the stripes on his tail are fading. They’re supposed to glow! All the photos that I found, of all the fish that look like him – they glow!”

“It could just be a result of his breeding?”

Urokai shook his head furiously. “He glowed when I bought him!”

“Then perhaps he doesn’t like you?” Urokai paled, looking suddenly drained at Frankenstein’s teasing. Frankenstein hastened to fix his mistake. “That’s not what I meant. He —fish have to settle in, right? Maybe it’s the same with mermaids?”

“Maybe,” said Urokai mysteriously, suddenly hovering off to the side of the tank and staring off into the empty street. “Maybe,” he said again, and it was clear that there would be no use trying to glean information from him right now, when he was sulking.

“Look at his fingers,” Frankenstein whispered in awe, “no claws!”

“Right?!” Urokai began nodding, vigourously as if to the beat of a song. “That’s why I bought him! He’s beautiful! He’s the perfect merman!”

“You are insane,” Frankenstein said, disgusted, as he rolled up his sleeve. “Now, are you going to help me get your fish inside the house or not?”

iv - in which Frankenstein tries to feed a merman.

The trouble with this whole pet-keeping trouble was getting them to eat. Humans at least had the gall to tell you when they hated something, and could tell you exactly what they wanted instead. Even if Frankenstein had thrown hours into researching and preparing various foods that mermaids and mermen might take interest in (considering the various species of fish that Rai might have been descended from or based upon, even!), he would have appreciated a “no thank you,” or a “I’d prefer steak”.

Instead, he got a blank stare as he approached with his various bowls of steaming and cooled food alike and placed them, delicately, on the ground in front of Rai.

There was meat, both cooked and uncooked – Frankenstein had no clue what was Rai’s preference, even if he might be able to digest both. Fish could be carnivorous, right? Urokai had said he’d gotten the information from the handler himself. Then again, when Rai’s handler had only been taking care of him illegally

It would hardly harm Rai’s health to have a bite, and if it turned out he had more and it affected him poorly, Frankenstein could take that out of the equation.

He didn’t even need to consider it, because Rai wrinkled his nose at it and passed to the next altogether, peering into the next plate with a curious glance.

Seaweed. Dried and wet. Rai spared it a glance, poked at each pile silently, and then moved on to the next dish.

He ignored the shrimp and the crab as well, to Frankenstein’s frustration. Did he not like eating sea creatures? Was it simply not his taste?

Rai took one look at the plate of fish – a carefully prepared salmon that Frankenstein had thought to cut up so that it was no longer recognisable – and gave a bodily shudder. Then he turned his nose from it entirely and sat, staring off with blank eyes into the water.

When he received no response, Frankenstein collected the dishes and dumped them into the kitchen sink unceremoniously.

Then he collapsed at the table, clasped his hands atop the wooden surface,and sighed into the empty room.

Perhaps Rai needed a friend.

v - in which Frankenstein goes hunting for a friend.

He ended up at the shop again, this time without Urokai. Urokai had said something about needing to model some clothes for this or that brand this weekend, and had dumped the entire thing on Frankenstein.

That was what he got for trying to be nice.

He didn’t know a thing about mermen. He had considering finding Rai a lady friend, so to say, but it seemed a poor idea. He wasn’t sure about breeding with merpeople, and he didn’t think he wanted to risk it happening so soon in his days of merman-raising, either.

No matter the low possibility of it happening with Rai, of all mermen, Frankenstein planned to play it safe.

He glanced about the glass tanks and caught sight of an interesting specimen.

“How about that one?” he said, pointing out the particular merman to the specialist. This one had long grey hair – down to his shoulders, Frankenstein was sure, if they let it hang dry – and was striped up and down in maroon and white. The spikes running up and down the merman’s arms were concerning, at a first glance, but Frankenstein didn’t think it was an issue when Rai balked at touching even the decorations in his temporary tank, as if they might stained his clear skin somehow.

Frankenstein wondered if Rai might like this one.

“Pretty, but he’s monstrous. Genetic failure,” the caretaker shrugged. “They were trying to breed something out of a lionfish and another gorgeous fish. Ended up with 21 instead.”

“21?” said Frankenstein, blinking.

“There were more,” said the old man, “but lucky me, I haven’t got them. Just number 21 is one too many, already. Could you imagine if I had even another? The whole shop would be scared stiff of them!”

The lionfish glared at him through the glass, grey eyes sparkling with indignance. Frankenstein thought he might understand them. He didn’t think that mermaids were capable of human speech, but if dogs and cats could communicate – even if just through purrs and nudging of noses – then wouldn’t merfolk?

The caretaker ignored his lingering and moved on promptly, already gesturing towards another fine merman. That one, Frankenstein’s own merman would like, the blonde was well-assured. This one behaved just fine and liked socialising with others, and would not immediately lash out at any owners or at possible friends. Frankenstein would have a grand time with this one, he was told – it was beautiful, likable, and no trouble to care for at all.

An absolutely grand time. Frankenstein nodded along to the caretaker’s words. Wouldn’t that be nice?

vi. in which Frankenstein returns to the shop with company.

The engraved name plate read, in silver: “Takeo”.

“That’s a troublesome one,” said the shop owner. “He makes a fuss over small spaces. People who’ve returned him say he wakes them up in the middle of the night with his wailing. It’ll be expensive to keep him. We might send him back.”

Frankenstein looked at the merman settled in the corner of the tank. Takeo straight back looked back, ice blue eyes cold and glassy, then looked away again. It seemed as if he were trying to stare even deeper into his little corner.

He didn’t look like the sort to complain.

“He doesn’t show it now, but the second he comes into the house, he starts.” The shopkeeper gave Takeo a last glance, then turned back towards the counter. “I’d say better not buying him it all. I’ll return him soon. I’ll try, anyway –even the people who caught him, I doubt even they want him back.”

“What do you think, Urokai?” said Frankenstein.

“I don’t care,” Urokai replied, tapping away at his phone. “A friend’s a friend. Rai will like whoever. He’s just like that, you know?”

The last bit was said somewhat dreamily, the redhead daring to look away from his game for just a moment to stare into the thin air. A moment later, Urokai went right back to furiously clicking at his app.

“Are you sure you don’t want to help pick?” Frankenstein said, one last time. He sounded almost helpless, to his own ears.

“One more minute,” Urokai said, voice raised – “I’ve almost got Rei Sakuma’s card! Almost!”

vii - in which they try to take home Rai’s new friend.

The shopkeeper was wrong. Takeo didn’t wail.

The merman practically screamed.

It started in the back of the truck. Even Urokai planted his hands on his ears, screaming right back at their purchase to shut the fuck up or we’ll take you back, but the noise continued. No one stopped them on the way out of the area – maybe they had seen that particular merman leave the shop far too many times.

Frankenstein was pulled over once by the authorities on the way home, however, and had to produce his papers and proof of purchase.

“This is such a fucking mess,” Urokai griped when he climbed back into the car, “do you have to get another one?”

“A friend’s a friend,” Frankenstein reminded him, suddenly and thoroughly hating everything in the world. The truck started up again, puttering loudly. At least it drowned out the sounds of Urokai’s whining and Takeo’s wailing. “And anyway, don’t you feel some sense of comradery in this one?”

“Why!” shouted Urokai, dragging the hood of his sweater back over his head, “why would I feel something like that!”

“He’s fucking noisy,” Frankenstein replied with a scathing vengeance as he veered back onto the road, “just like you.”

viii. in which Urokai becomes an animal rights advocate. 

Somewhere along the line, though Frankenstein hadn’t noticed it, his house had filled up with strange signs. Cardboard posts, strung messily up on plastic bars with things like: “MERMEN HAVE VOICES, TOO” and “SANCTUM AQUATICS = ANIMAL KILLERS” littered the floor of Frankenstein’s rooms.

“And what,” said Frankenstein, advancing on a clueless Urokai as he striped tape along the back of another plastic post sign, “do you think you are doing, Urokai?”

Urokai froze up.

“I’m advocating?” said Urokai sheepishly, turning around to face Frankenstein. At least he had the decency to look frightened halfway to death.

“Get your trash out of my house.”

Urokai’s wailing was almost as loud as Takeo’s the day they had dragged his tank from the shop. Frankenstein quelled it immediately with promises of dinner, after which Urokai wrapped himself in Frankenstein’s favourite blanket and steals two mugs of his hot chocolate. And that was after eating twice his own portion of pasta and consuming the leftovers from Frankenstein’s breakfast as well.

Then he sat and started — somehow — talking again. Truly, Urokai never ran out of steam.

“I’m going to start a revolution,” said Urokai fervently, staring into the flickering of Frankenstein’s fireplace. It was an eerie sight, watching the orange and yellow flames lick at Urokai’s form and chase his shadows away.

More like, it felt like like watching the broken link slot into the mechanism that would bring Ragnarök and the end of all things upon humanity.

“No,” said Frankenstein, “you’re going to get some sleep.”

“My mum didn’t raise a quitter,” Urokai hiccupped, eyelids drooping. Maybe the apocalypse would not come so soon, then.

“Even great minds need to take a break.”

Urokai didn’t seem to have heard him, but at the mention of a “great mind” he began nodding furiously.

ix - in which Frankenstein welcomes Urokai with open arms.

He had never been so happy to see Urokai. He thought he saw water on Urokai’s cheeks, and Urokai screamed and hit him on the cheek. It was no way to treat a sick man, Frankenstein wanted to say, but his voice refused to cooperate. Urokai cried out, sounding lost for words – and he dared to hit Frankenstein again, on the same cheek – before pulling himself up to his feet, dragging Frankenstein along with him.

Movement felt like grinding pain in his bones. The smell of chemicals dripped off him like toxic waste, plastering his wet clothes against his skin. Frankenstein tried to tell Urokai to not to breathe it, no matter what happened. But he couldn’t speak – his throat felt shackled, as if everything inside were completely inflamed. It wasn’t the case, he would be dead if that were true, but he didn’t even feel alive as it was. Everything felt so wrong, horribly, horribly wrong.

Urokai gasped (probably breathing in thirty different toxic chemicals, Frankenstein thought wearily, something like a soundless chuckle colouring the words). He dragged Frankenstein, so far that Frankenstein thought his bones might grind to dust – and then he felt the sweet taste of the mountainside air.

Urokai didn’t stop to rest. He pulled Frankenstein bodily to the car, heaved his dripping mess into the passenger side, and raced around the front to scramble into his own seat.

He dropped the keys, twice, and only barely managed to get the car started.

Then they were off, finally off. Finally getting away from that wretched company.

Finally going home.

“You fucking idiot,” Urokai was sobbing. The putter-putter of his old truck rang in Frankenstein’s ears, the eardrums still so clogged with water that it only sounded like a steady thud, thud in the back of his head. Like drums in the distance. “I can’t fucking believe you, Franken, you – you fucking idiot.”

And Frankenstein slept.

notes: how long is a post supposed to be before I have to put it under the cut…? lol. anyway, very self-indulgent AU. :/ Because I desperately wanted more Urokai than the manhwa gave. And I also desperately wanted to see an interaction between Frankenstein and Urokai that wasn’t “I hate you!” and “I hate you, too!” I can’t see them being very soft and close, but — grudgingly friends? I want that? But also… I really… really just like fish. I’d talk about my betta all day, but no one wants that.

A lot of this is short short short because exam cramming for tomorrow! But I just had so many ideas that I wanted to throw them down on paper. I never fleshed out anyone except Franken and Urokai but… exam!! exam!!

Last excerpt does not seem to belong to the story at all :D But it does, eventually! The fic does have some heavier plot down the line that isn’t all about beautiful mermen and their handsome human caretaker. And maybe there will be love in the air. Lol.

… Nevertheless, I’ve found the newest object of my focus and dedication.
(+__+) mermaid AU, here I come.

I submit this theory: Hawke is the one to kill the Nightmare.

We all know the choice reads “will likely die” to cover the Inquisitor’s escape. I suspect, no matter how heart-breaking Varric’s reaction is, that leaving Hawke behind is ultimately the right decision.

First: “The world fears the inevitable plummet into the abyss. Watch for that moment… and when it comes, do not hesitate to leap. It is only when you fall that you learn whether you can fly” that has already been pointed out before in relation to the quest, actually bloody called Here Lies the Abyss. It reads like a narrative connection, a clue–foreshadowing, if you will. Nothing is ever titled without a very specific purpose in mind.

Second, Hawke is the only person we have seen so far that has the ability to overcome the very essence of Nightmare: ancient, primal, debilitating.

Beyond any shadow of doubt, the Nightmare’s taunt for Hawke is the most gut-wrenching: “Did you think anything you ever did mattered?”

Because we all know, it did not.

This thing that frustrated us as gamers–the idea that no matter what decisions we made in an RPG title that usually lets us control the fate of nations, nothing changed–becomes the catalyst of Hawke’s character, the well from which they draw strength. Again and again, Hawke faces personal waking nightmares: from the Darkspawn attack on their home that claims one of the twins’ lives, to ultimately losing their other sibling (either to the Taint/Wardens, the Gallows, or the Templars), to the horrific death of their mother no matter how hard they fight, no matter what decision they make in the investigation of her murderer.

And then, Hawke has to face the nightmares of nations. An invisible war: the faithful spreading propaganda and crucifying heretics. A Qunari invasion of the city. An underground rebellion. Growing tensions between Mages and Templars that ultimately erupt into the start of a war. And then–personal again, even after all the loss: the lies of a lover, the unraveling of a friend, anger, betrayal, death–things explode around you, Hawke. And there’s not a damn thing you can do to prevent it.

All while remaining a pillar of leadership for the friends who have become family. 

When there’s nothing left to do but survive, to hold those you love as close as you possibly can, you grow strong, knowing you’ve faced your worst nightmares again and again and you’re still standing.

This is the strength of Hawke. 

It is the strength that will overcome the Nightmare, as it has overcome so many (so impossibly many; so unfairly many) before. 

We started singing bye, bye, Miss American Pie
Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry

            -American Pie by Don McLean

The water is cool on his burning feet as he wades into the swell, the waves hitting the shore with a faint roar.  It’s high afternoon and he should be home, taking care of Cora, but Laura cancelled an outing with friends at the last minute.  

“Women’s problems.  Go, have fun.”  She had said with a wave of her hand while curled on their chesterfield, a hot compress pressed to her belly, expression twisted in dismay.  

He should have  stayed anyway.  Laura seemed to be in a lot of pain, too much pain to handle a wily Cora, but he could hear the lake calling to him through their open window.  Derek figures he’s allowed to have fun, considering the amount of times he’s taken over caring for Cora when Laura wanted to go to the movies. And so, Derek finds himself with a free afternoon and nothing to do.

The water moves like it breathes, in and out, echoing the whim of the conifer needles, the leaves, the branches on the trees surrounding the breaker walls. This land will always hold a special place in his heart.  

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It’s not like she was doing it purely out of curiosity.

(Yeah, right)

When the flowers arrive at the CatCo front desk and Winn has that look in his eye, Kara has a moment of dread before it turns to confusion as she reads the attached note asking her on a date… With no name.

Winn’s smirk turns to wide eyed panic as she stalks over with determination in her step, note in hand.

“Alright Winn, I know you know who sent this,” She stabs a finger at the note. “And you’re going to tell me, right now.”

He looks cornered, both hands up in the universal sign of ‘don’t hurt me’ (like I ever would, she thinks). However, looking fierce does have its benefits and secretly being Supergirl sure adds to that ticket.

To her surprise he doesn’t crack, most likely in part to the fact that James calls him over, citing the need of his ‘computer skills’. He shuffles past her, voicing about a thousand or so sorrys before making his escape.

He’s always been a terrible liar (just like her) and she knows, just KNOWS, he’s aware of who sent the flowers. And possibly why.

She’s grumpy as she finishes out her day in the busy newsroom, and by the time she gets home she’s thoroughly exhausted, collapsing heavily on the couch.

Of course that’s when someone decides to knock on the door.

And of course when she opens the door no one is there.

It’s by pure chance that she looks down before closing the door and sees the white box on the floor outside. With a frown she picks up the box and sees her name written (well, embossed) on the front. She peeks out of the apartment doorway one last time, scanning the hall, looking for any clues, anything to tell her what in the world is going on. Seeing nothing she retreats inside, shutting the door behind her.

She ends up sitting at the table just staring at it. Did she order something? If it weren’t for her name plainly on the front she would assume that it was a wrong delivery. She stares for another minute before telling herself to just open it. Not that she’s curious or anything. (she is.)

Burgundy. A lot of it.

She reaches inside and pulls the deep toned fabric out of the box. Unfolding it she see it’s… a dress?

Laying it out she realizes it’s a cocktail dress, figure-hugging with capped sleeves and geometric cutouts near where she guesses her collarbones would be. It’s brand new, she can tell by the tags still hanging off. Turning one she sees it’s in her size. Her brow furrows.

As she lifts it up to examine it further, a piece of paper flutters down, landing on the tabletop. Handwritten this time, but still not recognizable.

‘DRAGO, 8:30PM’

DRAGO, it’s a pretty upscale restaurant in the financial district, hence the cocktail dress. She warily smiles then ends up frowning. Someone has gone to a whole lot of trouble to ask her out and put this date together and she still has no clue who it is. This may not be such a good idea.

Glancing at the clock she sees the hands read 7:20. She turns back to the dress, debating for a few seconds before grabbing it off the table, heading the to the bathroom. Curiosity - 1, Kara - 0

Nearly an hour later she’s ready, sideswept hair in tight curls, glasses on, and makeup…well, as good as she can get it (she had a fierce battle with a mascara wand).

Looking at the clock again, she jumps at the time, hands reading 8:20 this time. There’s absolutely, impossibly no way she’s going to make it in time.


She shakes her head then runs to the window. Sometimes having powers can be useful in normal situations.

Landing in an alleyway near her destination, she does her best to salvage her hair while speed walking to the street.

Her first impression is how modern the place looks. As she stands inside looking around she realises she has no idea who she’s looking for. There’s an older couple talking to the man at the front so she slips past into the dinning area.

Smooth piano music fills her ears as she enters the area. Her eyes scan the chairs, looking for another clue, any sign at all of where she’s supposed to be. Her eyes dart back to the profile of a man sitting down at a table for two. Something about him seems familiar to her but his back is turned.

She walks straight over, touching his shoulder as she walks up and- 


Her mouth drops open a little bit in surprise which, after realising who it is, turns into a smile.

“Kara,” he says as he smiles warmly at her.

She sits down in the empty chair across from him.

“I didn’t know you would be here,” she says, still surprised. “Where’s Miss Tessmacher? Oh no! Am I stealing her seat?”

She cranes her neck, glancing around for the petite blonde she assumes will be making an appearance any moment.

He slightly frowns. “Why would she be here?”

She looks back at him, just as confused now.

“I, just thought- assumed- she was here wit-”

Her eyes glance down and that’s when she notices the Burgundy tie. Burgundy, like her dress.

She’s sure her mouth is completely hanging open this time.


Now he looks worried.

“Did I do something wrong? The internets-”

“Internet” she blurts out.

He takes a deep breath. “Right. The internet said women on Earth like mystery-”

“Wait, wait-” she gestures.

“-and romance during their dates,” he continues, leaning down behind the chair and grabbing something.

When he sits up and she sees what he’s holding, she immediately stops her wild gesturing.

He holds out to her a flower with a rich orange coloring and deep red flecks.

She knows that kind of flower. She has one just like it at home in her flower planter.

And she remembers another time when a flower was offered, cooking in her apartment, a flushed complexion, and the afternoon sun caressing his face

She wonders if he knows the flowers reminds her of the vast sky of Krypton. Of home.

When she doesn’t take it (she’s wrapped up in it, staring at it) he coughs nervously and continues.

“We were never going to be normal Kara. We’re both outsiders here. I know-” He shuffles, looking almost uncomfortable and she slowly reaches and holds onto the flower he still holding too. “I know I’m not the only one here who misses home.”

She lifts the flower from his hand, drawing it back slowly. He’s looking at her, more raw and vulnerable than she’s ever seen him.

And she remembers another time, a time of hurt, loneliness, and longing for home… and finding comfort in the middle of nowhere with a Daxamite, of all people. Of hands holding, and companionship that runs deep.

In a moment of impulsiveness she reaches out and clasps his hand with hers.

“I meant what I said,” she gives him a small smile. “I never want you to know how I felt, how I still feel sometimes, being alone.” She hopes he can feel how earnest she is.

He gives her a small smile in return. “And when I’m with you I don’t.”

There’s a pause. “I like you Kara,”

“I like you a lot.”

She can hear her heart rate speed up, and it’s like he’s staring into her soul.

He shakes his head smiling. “Which is crazy because we’re not even supposed to like each other.”

“We didn’t, not at first,” she says automatically. His words are not really sinking in yet, and she supposes they should…if he’s saying what she thinks he’s saying. (He is)

Unaware of her inner struggle he softly laughs. “No, I guess we didn’t. But as much as I didn’t like you, I did respect what you were doing. You lost everyone but you found meaning in your life. You showed me that there’s always a way. A better way. You’re showing all of us that.”

She’s shocked. Never has she heard him talk like this. Underneath the party-boy exterior she would never have guessed that there was all of this underneath.

“And honestly, you’re the only one who gets me, and understands how out of place I feel. Out of everyone on this planet, you were the one who found me. And I’m thankful for that.”

The air is charged with something. Something simmering below the surface. She feels it now. And the look on his face is one that she’s sure mirrors her own.

She looks at him again, more closely this time.

She doesn’t see him as a spoiled Daxamite. She sees a man, without a people and without a home. As lonely as she is. Someone who shares in pain and sorrow and understands.

Someone like her.

She never thought all the gifts and note were from him. She had no idea that his feelings for her were anything like this. The moment she figured it out, it was blindsiding.

But here in this moment, after all that’s been said, she realises with a slight shock that she doesn’t mind.

Instead, she feels something. A growing feeling in her chest that she hopes never goes away.

This feels like coming home.

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

Sometimes curiosity gets the better of us, leading us down paths that should never be seen.

Other times, it leads to regrets, broken hearts and what could have been.

But sometimes it leads us through new doors to new beginnings. Or even discovering the true meaning of circumstances around us that we were too blind to see.

And sometimes, it leads two lost souls to connect, mends broken wings, and leads us down a path that we all hope for,

Our happy ending.
You and Me (I Can’t Keep My Eyes Off Of You)

Pairing: Barry/Iris

Rated T

Words: 4.602

Summary: An alternate ending to 2x22. A much happier ending. A continuation of the dinner scene. Barry and Iris can’t keep their eyes off each other and that proves problematic when they aren’t the only ones at the table. 

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What do you say you and I give this a shot?

How on earth is she supposed to do turn that down? Not like she wants to in the first place. But the way he’s grinning at her, the way he’s so damn happy in this moment has her agreeing, smiling back at him.

Yeah I’d like that.

She really does like that idea. It’s all she wanted for a while, but things keep getting in the way. And she knows there’s never going to be a right time, Zoom may be gone for the moment, but he’ll be back. And right now she thinks they should be allowed to have some happiness, to make most of the time they have right now before things inevitably go to shit.

Wally walks over to the table and she clears her throat reluctantly moving away from Barry to pretend to fix the placemat in front of her. It’s not like she’s trying to hide what’s going on between her and Barry, it’s more of the fact that they haven’t put a label on what they are yet and she doesn’t want everyone in their business. Though there’s a part of her that has a feeling her friends and family are picking up on the change in their relationship.

Soon Jesse and her father are joining them at the table. She pays no attention to the conversation Wally and Jesse are having, instead she glances over at Barry, noticing the way his eyes are lingering on her and she can’t hide the smile on her face, especially when she sees his eyes travel to her back and she just knows that he’s enjoying the opening on the back of her dress. Smirking to herself she turns her head to him catching him in the act, raising an eyebrow at him silently asking him, like what you see? In response he rubs the back of his neck looking away from her. She’s aware that Joe is watching them and she ducks her head down as well, straightening the silverware once again. She needs something to do; otherwise she won’t be able to stop looking at Barry.

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A/N: Sooo… warnings for abductions, threats, fear of death? I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt them. It just… happened.



A week had gone by since her visit to professor Hicks’s office and nothing had changed. Evergreen was still top of all their classes.

Okay, almost all their classes. Somehow he managed to be the absolute worst in the class Ethics for Demonologists: a Moral Approach to Summoning. How unsurprising. If there was an award for Most Likely To Become A Cult Leader After Graduating, Evergreen was a shoe-in for it.

Why wasn’t he expelled yet? Making a deal with a demon to gain his knowledge was an obviously unfair advantage and he should at least get some kind of punishment!

Elisabeth Adams was fuming all through Contract Negotiation. This class session they had to come up with fictional deals and give eachother feedback, and that damn Evergreen and his buddy Strange managed to find a loophole in hers. She wanted to slap that grin off Evergreen’s face.

She was done waiting. She stayed behind after class and confronted professor Hicks as soon as the other students had left.

“Have you spoken to Evergreen yet?” she asked.

Hicks seemed puzzled. “Spoken to Mr Evergreen? About what?”

“About his deal with Alcor the Dreambender.”

A strange expression twisted Hicks’s face. It came and went so quickly Elisabeth would have thought it was her imagination, if she ever had been in the habit of doubting herself.

Hicks blinked and then smiled pleasantly. “Sorry, my mind was elsewhere for a moment. What were we talking about again?”

Elisabeth could scream.

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