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Marie's Busy Day -Trade-"Nurse Black, have you taken down this patient's numbers?"
"Indeed I have, Dr. White. Weight 75 kilograms, blood type A positive, height 1.5 centimeters..."
"Wait a sec! Height 1.5 centimeters? I'm a heck of a lot taller than tha--"
"Never question the expertise of your doctor."
Leon Down burst out laughing at around the same time that Marie Vex stepped into the room, followed by Wolfen. The young green wolf appeared to be enjoying his sick days.
"Well, his fever is definitely gone," Marie remarked as he checked Leon over. "How are his other symptoms?"
"He's still coughing and sneezing," Wolfen replied, "but I think he's faking it. I've noticed he never does it when we're not in the room."
"No, Grandma, I'm still sick," Leon interjected, right before an obviously fake sneeze.
Marie shook her head. "He's going to school tomorrow. Maybe I'd better take back that kids' DVD to discourage him."
With that, she stopped the DVD playe
Marie's To Do List -Trade-Send Hisspan out to collect more herbs. My crocosmia aurea collection supply is running low.See if Leon is recovering from his cold.Mix some more painkillers.The VDF is performing weapons training today. Be present to treat any injuries.Ask Daphne to prepare a meal for Cynthia. That workaholic python will probably work through lunch again today!Check on Marybeth in case she stressed her sprained ankle.Get a head start on tomorrow's work so I'll have time to attend Tashako's recital tomorrow.
Humans and Dragons -Trade-It began as just another day in the United Kingdom. The sky was partly cloudy, but no rain seemed to be coming. The time of day was roughly 1 P.M.
Stephen, or ~Lolocator as he was known to his online friends, was afflicted with a severe case of writer's block. He wanted to write something, but had absolutely zero ideas, so he was left staring hopelessly at his computer screen.
"Maybe I could... no, no, that wouldn't really work. Ugh, Sonic makes this look so easy."
"Sonic", or *sonicinterface, was one of Stephen's aforementioned online friends. He lived towards the eastern coast of the United States, which meant it was about 8 A.M. for him (actually 9 A.M. due to Daylight Savings time). The two of them shared a lot, including Asperger's Syndrome.
CLICK. Stephen glanced up at the sound of the television downstairs turning on. Strange, as nobody else was supposed to be in the house at the time.
His curiosity and boredom taking over, Stephen
The Bronze Seagull - Ch. 15"That's what she said? ...Actually, I don't drink. I could really use a glass of soda, though."
Steve was on the verge of passing out, and Dolly had already gotten to work getting him down from the winch. Madam Slip's attention was on Interface, whose head was still spinning from his near-death experience. None of them noticed the chameleon sneaking up on the tigress.
"Darling... look... it's over. After all you've been through, you deserve a trip to the bar for--"
It was then that the chameleon made the grab. Hisser let out a hiss shortly before the chameleon muted it with his hand.
Madam Slip's eyes widened. She felt her shoulders, suddenly aware of the issue.
"Hisser! He's gone!"
Dolly whipped around, having already thrown the lever to lower Steve. Interface straightened up immediately. Steve was now unconscious.
Reaching into her pocket, Madam Slip took out a remote and looked at it, pressing a few buttons.
The Bronze Seagull - Ch. 13"Uuuugh... what happened? Where am I? Where's my pencil? ...It's so cold and windy... am I outside the airship?"
Steve stumbled over his own words at Madam Slip's demand for an explanation. Should he explain? What could he say, if anything at all? He was already late for the exchange; should he risk violating the intruder's terms further?
"...Darling? Are you all right? You look positively tense. Should I get you a glass of wine?"
Taking a deep breath, Steve looked up.
"I-I can't explain everything right now. I promise I'll fill you in as soon as I can."
With that, Steve rushed out the door, leaving a very confused tigress in his wake.
Once she'd recovered from her shock, Madam Slip picked Hisser up again.
"Hisser, do you know what that wolf was so agitated about?"
The clockwork snake's lights lit up in patterns once again.
"Would you please fill me in? I know it's about you somehow; he ment
Deep Sea ScreechThe ocean waters parted as Screech the bat, Liberator of the Confined, dove through them. Deeper and deeper she swam, gently flapping her wings to propel herself. She didn't stop to gawk at the marine wildlife around her; she was always looking either ahead of herself or at her portable GPS screen.
Every now and then, she would stop to adjust the small bracelet around her left ankle. It looked like an ordinary ankle bracelet made out of pearls and gold thread, but it was actually a magical talisman. As long as Screech wore it, she could breathe underwater, she was immune to the dangerous pressures of the deep sea, and she and all her equipment were completely waterproof. She had obtained it from one of her previous rescuees as a favor.
As Screech reached deeper and deeper waters, the ocean around her grew darker and darker. Soon she couldn't see where she was swimming, and had to resort to her echolocation to navigate. The "images" from her son
The Bronze Seagull - Ch. 11"Ugh! I like listening to wolfsong, but not when it's that LOUD! My ears are going to be ringing until--"
Steve flinched back as Madam Slip leaned close to him. He found himself shielding his neck with his hands. As annoying and cryptic as Hisser could be, he had the strong feeling that he shouldn't give up the clockwork snake.
"I-I-I'm sorry," he managed to say. "It's very personal to me. I'd never dream of selling it."
Madam Slip smiled as she stepped back. "Oh? If there's anything I've learned in my line of work, it's that everything has its price. I'm sure I could make you an offer you'd accept."
Bugger. So THAT'S her game.
"Look, I'm flattered you're interested in it, but I'm really not inclined to sell. Now, if you'll excuse me..."
Steve grasped the door handle, but the tigress had locked it and taken the key. Fear starting to build, he made eye contact with her again.
"Perhaps I should rep
Summer Fizz -JJ-Fruits cast a bat-shaped shadow over the coastline as she glided towards Johnny Jackal's summer home. Although her usual tank top and shorts would have been appropriate for the weather, she expected to get wet today, so she was wearing a black two-piece swimsuit instead. It stood out fairly well against her cherry-red fur.
Ah! There it is!
An oceanside cabin had just come into view. It looked professionally made, its wooden exterior sanded but unpainted, and it had a neat back patio that overlooked the water. A dinette set consisting of a table and two chairs, both made of black metal lattice, stood on the patio, and a small pier built into the porch led down to the water.
Coming in for a landing, Fruits touched down on the back patio. She could see Johnny through the sliding glass doors that led between the porch and the cabin's interior. As usual, he was wearing nothing apart from the four metal rings on his wrists and ankles.
birthday kiss. oikawa tooru x reader
"Good morning, [Name]-chan~!"
Oikawa gave the girl a wave, but the girl merely looked away, trying her best to ignore him at all costs. Knowing that she was avoiding his presence, Oikawa entered the classroom and grabbed a chair and scooted next to her. Really close to her. Too close for her own comfort. But did Oikawa care? No, of course not. He never cares about anything but himself.
Which is why [Name] hated him.
"Do you know what day it is~?" he asked, paying no attention at how the girl was extremely uncomfortable by the space between them. Oikawa, however, saw the tint of blush appearing on her cheeks, and that only made him want to get closer to her even more.
"Friday." [Name] simply replied, or at least, tried to.
"Nope!" he exclaimed, that sadistic smile of his still plastered on his dreadful face. The students stared at the two
lovebirdsstudents, blinking at the scene. Though, this wasn't the first time Oikawa barged into their c
SplitI didn’t know what to do for her. Or to her. Or with her. She cried, a lot. She thought I didn’t know, didn’t notice, or maybe just didn’t care.
I saw her dancing in the rain one Saturday afternoon, nude. Not a stitch on her, and dancing by the creek, red welts rising on her skin from the biting mosquitoes. She never danced. I watched, and marveled that she could dance and still look sad.
When the rain let up, she stopped and stared at the creek flowing and bubbling over big flat mossy rocks. I called her name without using my voice, and she turned, but then looked away again. I wondered where she was in her head, that she could stand there and ignore the itchy bites and not worry that she was naked.
I envied her lack of self-consciousness. I pulled my heavy cardigan around my shoulders, even though it was hot and muggy out. I hid in its folds like a turtle hides inside its mobile home.
Sometimes I could feel her tugging at me, begging. I was stubbor
runaway irony (FFM 22)Twenty minutes after finishing the documentary on New Zealand, Nicole had a plan worked out. She wrote it all down in gel pen, an itemised list of all the things she needed; then she got to work.
It wasn’t easy to convince the man in Bunnings to sell her nails, but she put on her best innocent face, and told him it was for her father’s garden shed. It wasn’t easy to convince the neighbour to let her have the old fence palings, either; nor the logs that had been earmarked for a bonfire, but a few hearty fibs and her best “I just want to help my daddy” smile went a long way to convincing them.
Two weeks later, she had bruised hands, a lot of knowledge about how not to use a hammer, and what she hoped would pass for a half-decent raft. She packed herself a bag with some clothes and spare underwear, then packed another bag, this one larger and wheeled, with as much canned food as she could carry. Before she left, she remembered to grab the can op
FFM 18: Friday NightAnother friday night. Burnt coffee, stale cigarette smoke, and a bunch of assholes that Vlad didn’t like any better than himself. If there was a silver lining here, it was that this would be his last meeting. That almost brought a smile to his tired, pallid face. Almost. Instead, he peeled off one last sticky tag, wrote his name, and sat in the circle with the rest of the guys.
Rat King was up first. Blah blah, all the usual bullshit about ruling the sewers. Honestly, who cared? That guy wasn’t a true monster. As far as Vlad was concerned, they should’ve sent him packing ages ago, but this was a place of support, so he’d never said as much. Twitching and fidgety, he waited for his turn to stand at the podium.
“Hello,” he began. “My name is Vlad. Of the Family Macnair.”
“Hi, Vlad,” the assorted murderers and thieves replied.
“As most of you know, I
A ConversationI told him he smells of coffee and thrift shops. He said, “Is that a good thing?”
I said yes, very. Or better than smelling of cheese and ammonia.
“Who smells of cheese and ammonia?”
This lady I work with. And not good cheese, either. Roquefort, that’s been sitting on the dash of a car on a 100 degree day.
“Why do you suppose the ammonia?”
I assume that she cleans with it.
“Oh my God,” he said. “Who cleans with ammonia? Unless she’s getting rid of evidence?” He cocked an eyebrow.
And who smells of cheese if they clean with ammonia, is what I want to know. I tell him I can never eat stinky cheese again, but that being near him always makes me want a coffee, badly.
“What do thrift shops smell like?”
I ask him if he’s ever been into a thrift shop.
“I don’t think so. Old bookstores. I love those. Is that close?”
I thought about that. Yes, yes that wa
Giving the Bride AwayThird Person Plural
Father: Teenagers are too immature to know what’s best for them.
Third Person Neuter
Mother: This country just doesn’t have the same standard of morals.
Third Person Masculine
Father: He’s the perfect choice for her.
Third Person Feminine
Mother: She’s not too young. It’s normal to be nervous.
Father & Mother: You should be excited on your wedding day.
Bride: This isn’t what I want.
homeI pray to go home.
on bended knee,
I lift my heart
to a nameless god,
I bless his heart,
or maybe hers,
and ask for deliverance
to a land
I feel a map,
carved into my shoulders.
three mirrors are arranged
directing my attention
to my back, a range of mountains,
but my eyes don't see.
is water through a sieve.
puddles flow beneath me,
no barrier to hold me
a cheshire smile
and reversible signs
lie to me
and no amount of tears,
salty oceans on my cheeks,
will bring me home.
I dream of a room,
soft and fuzzy to the sight,
where I feel at rest;
I know that I am still
:: GULA :: Charles Grey x Reader
gula ; latin for gluttony.
"Ah, I'm so hungry! [Name], get me something, will you?"
"Must you eat all the time? You just ate an hour ago!" the girl said, raising her voice. It still surprised her at how this man could consume any food with a blink of an eye. He kept eating, eating, and eating, it made her sick to the stomach. Just watching him eat made her stomach churn in disgust. "If you want food, then go get some yourself."
"That's a lot of work," Charles complained. "that's why I'm asking you, silly!"
"I'm not," [Name] began, walking towards him and sticking her sword in front of his face. "your maid."
"Course, you aren't." he mumbled, removing the sword away from his face. "Must you always stick your sword in front of me? You know, one day you might end up slicing my face in half! And it will be all your fault, [Name]."
"Oh, please. I would have done that if you weren't the Queen's butler."
"Still cruel as ever, I s
The Bird Lady FFM20I’ve lived in NYC for over two years, and for so many people living there, it’s an awfully lonely place to be. Everyone is very focused on themselves, no one makes eye contact in the streets, and even the cabs ignore you. My job is the only thing that keeps me here. I make so much money, it would be stupid to move back home and work at my dad’s store for only a fraction of what I earn. That, and I have an old lady to take care of.
She’s one of those bird ladies in the park. She’s a sweet old thing, and it would kill me to leave her alone. It would probably kill her too.
We became friends because I was sitting alone in the park one afternoon, watching the clouds and daydreaming. She jumped out of nowhere and said, “Feed the birds?” I nearly fell off my park bench, I was so surprised.
“Sure, sure,” I said, pressing a quarter into her wrinkled hand. Gums showing, she smiled. She handed me a paper bag of breadcrumbs and sat next to me.
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