#I have the memory span of a gnat and if I don’t see the little notification I forget things exist

[partially-controlled-chaos]

I was asked by both @beardedladyqueen and @thoughts-of-bear about 5 things that make me happy and my dumbass completely forgot these were in my inbox so I’m so sorry for the delay in actually answering. BUT with that being said, I finally have answers! Thank you both so much for the ask! ❤️

1. Spooky shit. I LOVE spooky shit. Halloween. Horror movies. Ghost stories. The paranormal. Graveyards. The occult. Everything. I was absolutely watching horror movies I should NOT have been watching at like 5 years old and “Friday Night Scary Movie Night” was a staple in my household. Popcorn, really poorly made B rated horror movie, staying up late, and trying to not get scared was a weekly thing and I miss having those movie nights. But because of that my love for anything spooky has bled into my adult life and now it’s just a way of life. So if you ever want to swap ghost stories I’ll be your best friend. 👻

2. Early mornings. I mean like that wonderfully quiet time between 3am and 5:30am. If it’s staying up that late or waking up that early (exception being when I have to wake up at that time for work), I love that time of night/early morning. Things are usually quiet and peaceful and it’s just a really nice time to kind of just exist without the hustle of daily life. As given by my username, my life can be absolutely chaotic at times so it’s nice to be able to have moments to just kind of be. And in relation to the above point, late nights mean spooky times. And as a side note, that time of morning in Animal Crossing New Horizons is amazing.

3. Relaxing in spring/fall weather. Kind of related to the above topic, but when I can’t be up in the super early mornings, I love sitting outside when it’s nice weather in spring or fall and just unwind. I don’t do it as much now because I don’t have a yard, but when I was a kid I loved just laying out in a hammock in nice weather and either take a nap or read. I could get a hammock for my back porch but if I did that I’d have to fight off a horde of spiders and I would just rather not.

4. Playing nostalgic (to me) games. So in addition to spooky movie nights, playing video games was HUGE in my house. My mom started playing Crash Bandicoot on PS1 in the ye olden days of 1996 so I grew up playing that and Spryo the Dragon mostly. So now when I have down time between other games I play or am super stressed, I’ll replay the hell out of those games. I was overjoyed when they did the trilogies of both games for PS4 so now I can play them whenever I want and it’s fantastic. My PS2 and all my games were stolen so for a long time I didn’t have the ability to play my favorite games, so when they were remastered for a system I owed it was the happiest day of my life. Also grew up on the Sly Cooper series that became an absolute obsession for me for a solid decade so when they remastered it for the PS3 I was in absolute heaven.

5. Writing fan fiction. So this is not something new for me, but it’s something I’ve rediscovered (thank you Baldur’s Gate 3). I wrote fan fiction yearsssss ago when I was in high school, so like…2011-2016 I think is when I stopped? Really I think I stopped in 2014 but according to the trusty fanfiction account I posted one thing in 2016? Anyway, not important. I stopped writing when I got into college because things because more hectic, I was busy, life was absolutely kicking my ass, and the fandom I wrote for was dying down so eventually I just lost the desire to write. But now that I’ve gotten settled as an adult and thanks to the glory that is BG3, I’ve regained the desire and want to write again and it’s honestly so, so nice. I can’t write as frequently as I did when I was in high school, but damn do I enjoy it. I’ve found it’s a way I can express myself in ways that I actually feel confident in what I do. I can’t draw to save my life, but I do feel that writing is where I can be creative and feel good about it. May not always be the best work, but I have fun doing it. I also love reading fan fiction. Reading how people take genres and reimagine them or completely twist it is always so fun so look into. Creativity for the win, my dudes.

Anyway, thank you again for asking me and I’m sorry it took so long to actually post this!

[cynergy-laughter]

Hi, asker of the HCs for the arcana main 6. I forgot to add that I was wanting to ask about like general tickle HCs about them or them/MC tickle fight HCs or something before sending it. ( Sorry, my gnat sized attention span strikes again (X )

Oh don’t worry about it, I’m glad you sent me the ask! I really appreciate the interaction!

Let’s see... I guess I should start with...

Julian🏴‍☠️🍺

This boy is a tickler’s dream.

He is super sensitive everywhere and loves it

And it doesn’t help that he’s constantly getting himself tangled, tied, restrained, exposed, and trussed up for you~.

His arcana is the hanged man after all

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he’s basically begging for a little t-word session with you~.

Won’t say it outright because he’s a blushy mess, but will definitely drop hints.

Portia, despite being the younger sister, would absolutely wreck him when they were kids, I’m sorry did I “would” and “when”? I meant “will still” and “since”.

This “Lee”ning Switch has some tickle spots at his sides, armpits, torso, neck, and belly.

He gets more sensitive when he’s drunk.

Portia🐈🌸

It’s absolutely canon that she is ticklish and a tickle fighter.

Can and will wreck anybody, Portia is a fighter through and through.

There are only a few spots that she can’t stand being tickled without being a giggly mess.

Tickle her unprovoked and she will retaliate.

That being said, if you cuddle her and get in a few good pokes and flutters, she’ll allow it because you’re being adorable.

Cuddles after tickle fights is one of the ways to her heart.

Will wreck Julian for a single slice of pumpkin bread.

Ler-leaning switch energy. She’s the kind of tickler to sit on your thighs, hold your ankle up and just skitter her fingers on your foot.

Armpits, hips, and thighs are some of those aforementioned spots~.

Asra🐍✨

Doesn’t seem to be the type to feed into tickle fights, or like tickling.

But looks can be deceiving after all, they are usually the type to instigate it.

Is the type to deny ever starting anything with an innocent smirk.

Will absolutely challenge you. And will absolutely lose without magic.

Uses Faust to help them win on those rare occasions, but against you, Faust will turn on Asra.

Ever since coming back to life, you had forgotten all the fun you both had, and they miss those playful moments.

Cute laughs can turn soft cackles with a single change of spots.

Asra melts with chin tickles.

Neck, navel, hips, and arms are some of their tickle spots.

Muriel🐺🐓

Has never had any memories of being tickled, never has been tickled before.

Yes, even Asra hasn’t tickled Muriel ever. In fact, you are the first one to do so.

He grabs your wrist and holds your arm away from him, eyes widened, cheeks red, he looks like you’ve touched him for the first time. “Don’t ever do that again.”

You follow instructions, not wanting to upset him... but then, after what seemed like hours, he surprises you with, “Okay... Now... I’m ready...”

Breaking news: Touch starved baby boi has discovered new activity. But he makes you promise to never do that in front of anyone.

Gentle and soft playful tickles only, you don’t want to overwhelm him.

After tickles he requires cuddles and holding, Inanna is joining you both. It’s law.

Likes his shoulders and arms tickled, just light traces for comfort and brief giggles.

He grabbed your wrists when you would go for his armpits, knees, and feet(very protective of them, never even gave you a chance to try), you can imagine those are his spots.

Nadia🦉☕️

Is ticklish, but she’s never had time or many opportunities to explore it. So she ultimately forgot about it.

The life of a dowager countess is very lonely, especially when you are running a country like Vesuvia.

That is until you came to help investigate the death of Lucio.

As you both go closer she began to feel more comfortable around you, she almost felt betrayed when you mistakenly grazed her side.

And it’s all coming back to her. Nadia would have tickle fights with some of her siblings, mostly Natiqa, and would win.

She was able to turn it off. But it’s gotten pretty rusty after she forgot about it.

That being said, she enjoys a good bit of sport before her bath, so because of you, she asks to tickle fight before starting her evening bath.

And don’t worry, she turns her ticklishness back before you both start. Usually...

The countess of unusual spots, lower back, palms, elbow crease, she for some reason can’t seem to turn off those tickle spots.

Lucio⚔️🐐

Goat Boi has never been tickled either. The only thing he and Muriel have in common.

Not until you came along did he even begin to explore it.

He is boasting as usual when It™️ happens; you sneakily reach for him, he thinks it’s a bug, but realizes that it’s you, and tries to play it off like it never happened.

You try It™️ again, and get a bit more reaction this time, he is now Panique at the Masquerade.

What?! Goat Boi is evolving!!! Congratulations, Goat Boi has (d)evolved into Squealy Boi.

He tries his best to fight, but you quickly find that everywhere he’s ticklish, (everywhere is right) his strength is weakened greatly.

You wreck him daily in the names of Nadia, Asra, and Julian~. He wishes he may have is golden arm, but it can only do so much

Honestly Lucio loves the attention, but hates the exhaustion, and the sweat.

Navel, chest, inner thighs, and feet have got to be his greatest weaknesses erm... sensitive spots... okay... he really wants me to call them his battle scars... I’ll call them panic buttons.

[cadriona]

Idea for Genshin Marvel Cross where the Liyue characters get yeeted into the mcu

ok as if i don’t have enough wips and shit going on already, but HEAR ME OUT

Fic would be series format with ?oneshot? for each character for set-up, and probably ending with the 2012 avengers movie because my attention span is the size of the gnat nowadays (

Premise: As teyvet buckled and died under the retribution of Celestia, the Archons grew desperate to preserve whatever people they have left, but the only ones that they could envelope with their power were the Vision holders that held Visions of their nations (I’m going with the shape of the Visions here, not the element). With the traveller’s dimension-crossing capability returned to them on the cusp of their departure, each Archon was able to throw their people into a separate world, and the Liyue folks landed in MCU, reincarnation style.

As I feel like this will end up becoming a long post, details (and thus spoilers if this ever gets written) for the characters are below:

Xiangling: her dad is a chef in an old chinese restaurant in a toronto chinatown. their family had immigrated to canada early in the 1900s ig, and a family heirloom is a little statue of a weird looking panda (coughguobacough). It breaks one day when she was dusting the area, and inside was her pyro vision (pls don’t ask, my fic my rules), and she receives her memory back that way. Ends up in New York during Avengers due to competing in masterchef or something lmao

Beidou: born in a small chinese fishing village, attends mandatory education, almost joins the military but doesn’t both due to own values and because she lost her eye sometime in between, and one day spontaneously (not) decides on a cross pacific boattrip. Wanted to record and stream a lot of it, but there is footage missing and when she arrives back on land (in new york, where she settles), she seems a changed woman.

Ningguang: also born in china because they’re liyue characters ok?? and attends school, makes her way through uni and graduates with phd and stuff, highest degree in the family! and starts a business. On a business trip to zhangjiajie (jueyun karst irl), she feels a tug, and vanishes into the forest at night. She finds her Vision embedded in the rocks and gets her memory back that way, and with her sway in the business world as well as her burgeoning network, starts looking to see if there’s anyone else. Yes, the series will end up with beiguang lmao

Chongyun and Xingqiu: both children of “noble” families (gonna need to do more research on this), and met at a prestigious school and have been inseparable since. Finds their Visions when they go hiking or something

Keqing: very similar route to Ningguang, except she went to uni abroad instead and found work there. Perhaps she ends up working for OSHA? On a camping trip she also feels a tug, but she ignores it because there are higher priority things on her list rn. This is incidentally the first time that SHIELD manages to capture weird energy readings for more than a few hours long, but by the tie they mobilize to track it down, Keqing had decided to go search for whatever it was and retrieved the vision.

Other characters pending, but that would be the gist of it ig?? Hopefully i’ll actualy get around to writing it someday lol

[amazinmango]

I present to you a will so strong that it defies all that would stand before it: science, biology, finance, reason.

It has defeated the efforts of medical professionals, direct physical and psychological intervention, thousands of dollars, and years of effort.

It is the epitome of defiance in the face of insurmountable odds.

It is contained within a very. smol. borb.

I give you the gorgeous idiot at the center of it all: Petrie.

So cockatiel hens can lay a handful of eggs each year, with or without fertilization or even companionship of another bird (species and gender notwithstanding). Also if said ladybird has bonded with her human; she don’t judge. They can produce clutches of a couple to five (or more, if feelin’ sassy) at a shot, and it’s typical to have maybe two clutches a year if any at all.

Unless you’re Petrie.

If you are Petrie, you can churn out stupid numbers of little white ovoids, each one of which contains enough craziness fit to drive your human off the deep end. I lost count after she’d pooped out thirty just over the course of one year; there was maybe a three-week span when she, for the love of some deity somewhere, took a breather. (That’s a little under ten clutches; at the time I was removing them as she laid them when I could distract her before I realized I was making the problem worse.)

Thing is, Petrie is very pretty. She has an apartment next to her buddy Loona, a Very Old Man who has no interest in her That Way. There’s one brain cell between them (spoiler: it’s his) and Petrie typically has the memory of a gnat. Cockatiels and similar small parrot(lets) are thought to possess intellect along the lines of a human toddler. Cause-and-effect are something Loona understands quite well. You can see him mapping out his path from where he is to where he wants to go, and then watch him implement it. He knows where the bathroom is down the hall, and how to get there. He knows where he is not allowed to go in the kitchen, and goes there anyway. He has specific calls for “Where are you? Okay, thanks!” and “Hey, I’m hungry and don’t WANT these pellets” and “WE’RE OUTTA WATER BC SHE SHAT IN IT AGAIN.”

Petrie, tho. She will fly from her cage, land upon the floor in front of it (near the ladder that leads up to the entrance), and walk in circles backwards, screaming, until rescue.

...she is very, very pretty.

So Cockatiels aren’t laying hens, right; their tiny bodies are not designed to churn out calcium-fortified baby-containment units on the regular. Chronic layers can become egg-bound--they run outta calcium to the point that the egg’s shell is neither hard nor soft enough to pass. It gets stuck, jams up the works--being birds, there’s one business-end orifice for all functions. She can’t poop because the egg is in the holding position, and her body doesn’t stop making poop especially if she continues eating. Her strength wanes, and her calcium deficient and heavily-taxed body is not built to handle this shit.

In short, she becomes even more highly stressed, malnourished, possibly septic, and dies.

It’s a shitty way to go.

Solution(s): 

Provide plenty of calcium, discourage laying and breeding behaviors. 

Avoid overfeeding and reduce free-feeding. 

Rearrange the cage frequently, try to eliminate cozy spots that look very NestableTM. 

Don’t touch her on her back, and do not engage when she’s sticking her butt in the air and squeaking. 

Redirect, distract, do anything that gets her out of make-babies mode and go on with your lives.

As you might have guessed, Petrie is a Chronic Layer to end all chronic layers. She shan’t cease egging for no man. You can’t take away an egg she has made, as she will immediately get to work on cooking another. Rearrange the cage all you like! That perch and dish combo really make that corner pop. Change the photoperiod to the point that you are genuinely worried about her psychological wellbeing, until telltale squeaking emits from a covered cage at three AM. Balance out her diet with regulated mealtimes (how DARE you father i am sTaRVinG) that inevitably regresses into free-feeding chaos because she needs all the nutrients bc shitting out eggs. 

You can consult avian vets, plural, on other solutions.

Purchase expensive, stressful shots (as in needle-y injections into this tiny borb) that are intended to have a stern discussion with her single functional ovary. Being governed by hormones, it can, in theory, be deactivated by the same principles--throw the right kinds of hormones at the birb, the birb stops egging.

Petrie’s utterly-fucking-determined drive to create egg after egg after egg is so insurmountable that she has laughed in the face of said injections on a quarterly basis for more than one year. These shots, btw, are $75 a stick.

You can discuss with an avian veterinarian possible surgical options--but removing the ovary in a cockatiel is a high-risk operation on a healthy bird; the prognosis for coming out of the operation alive is fifty-fifty.

Never mind if your bird is stressed and already egg-bound. If you’ve gently massaged her bootie above where the egg sits, and you’ve vaseline’d her butthole (technical term for gentle application of approved oils to cloaca, of course) and given her the equivalent of a bird sitz bath. All short of gently taking this fluffball in hand and just squeezing her.

Thus you find yourselves at the emergency vet at two in the morning because she collapsed at the bottom of her cage, too weak to hold her head up. She’s checked in, and you go home with an empty carrier and stare at the stupid eggs she’s left on the floor of the cage away from any hospitable nesting configurations and amidst all the barriers and deterrents you’ve placed there.

You get the call at work that she’s holding steady but not looking good; she’s malnourished and they can’t risk trying to crack the egg, suck out contents, then gently crush and remove the shell. She won’t survive any sort of stress, never mind surgery. At this point, it’s touch and go if she’ll see the morning.

You can keep her checked in, and hope.

You get the call that she’s made it through the night, holding steady. And then in another day or so, she’s passed the damned egg, is scarfing enough food to feed a rottweiler, and is ready to come home.

That’s just the first time shit got real over the last several years of hyped-up egg production, the first thousand bucks and change.

After she’s back to a healthy weight and shows good on her bloodwork (another stressful test), Petrie goes back on the hormone injections.

She lays three eggs, her average clutch.

The vet says “hey, maybe it didn’t work, let her finish with this clutch and bring her in for an early next shot.”

She ‘finishes,’ as in loses interest in the unfertilized eggs long enough for me to distract her and remove them, rearrange the cages anew, and watch closely that she doesn’t immediately start going ass-in-air squeaktoy. We go to the vet. She gets the shot.

She lays three eggs.

The vet scratches her head, and reminds me of the half-chance of survival should we try to de-ovarize this bird.

She gets another shot, and lays three more eggs.

We stop the shots.

She bulldozes through a bunch of creative, bird-safe debris and obstacles placed at the bottom of the cage. I have found her underneath crunched-up water bottles sitting on eggs, happily poofed up and looking up at me like “I maked these!!”

She became egg-bound a second time, and that was a second vet trip, though not as dramatic or in the wee hours. She passed the egg overnight, to the tune of another cool grand.

This bird. This friggin borb.

She came home, and amazingly went for several months without egging. I was thrilled. She crapped out five eggs in January 2020, a big clutch for her. She rolled out the dummy eggs when I tried to get her to please stop, baby. She lost interest in them faster than usual, and then came another blessed fiveish weeks of egglessness.

And yet, as I sit in my mancave-turned-office for work-from-home, I hear the distinct sound of a fluffy borb shuffling through crunchy water bottles and squeaking as she goes. I can only hope to fortify her, love her, and support her as she works on her next set of freaking giantass (for a cockatiel) eggs.

Petrie contains her own fortitude and sheer will beyond any I can imagine. She persists, against all odds, and survives her own best efforts to do herself in, and when I look at her in exhausted exasperation, she gives me this little cute squinty-eyed cockatiel smile and chirps.

This gorgeous idiot cannot do otherwise, and I love her and hope to love her as long as I can, as I cannot do otherwise.

[gumnut-logic]

Hi hi, figured I would toss you an ask for this.. how do you plot out a story? Do you write out a basically outline and fill in the blanks or do you know when you start where you want to go and just go with the flow of it?

Oooh, now you’re asking for me to blab in your ear for an hour :D

I actually had to think about how I was going to answer this.

Well, for starters one key factor that I would say affects, but really is my entire writing world is that I’m a visual thinker. I’m that visual that if I can’t visualise it, then I can’t understand it - hence the shocking marks I got in physics class in high school.

For the most part, however, my visual brain has done me good over the years and never more so than in my writing.

So story…how do I find a story?

For me it often starts with a scene. One I can see as clear as day in my head.

Where that scene is in a story varies, but there is always one scene and that is where I start. If it is the beginning scene, I will start writing from there, sketching it out and letting the characters take me where their logic forces them to go.

Nutty fic spoilers ahead…

If it is a middle scene or end scene, then I need to build other scenes to get to that scene. Sometimes in that process the original scene gets wiped and replaced with another more logical event. For example, the scene where Virgil finally collapses in Gentle Rain (Chapter Twelve) had been on the cards since Chapter Two (I actually hadn’t originally planned to do that to the poor boy, but I needed to give Scott a reason to continue speaking to Em in the hospital and sorry Virg, you were it…his whole illness grew from there), but originally I was going to have him collapse alone in TB2’s hangar and be missing for a bit until some poor sod found him. Turned out that he was suffering from a collapsed lung. If he collapsed alone, he would have died, and even I’m not that mean, so the resultant scene happened.

If that sounded convoluted, yeah, well my head is a mess.

If the story is a short one, I will often just go with the single scene and see where it takes me. Often that results in a thousand or so words and a finished piece. Very little planning required.

For Sotto Voce and Gentle Rain length stories, I operate a little differently as my memory is poor and I have lightning strike ideas that sometimes have to be written down or I will forget them. Sometimes writing them down sparks more ideas.

Here are the notes on the first note on a pile of post it notes still on my desk (yes, my desk is a bomb site). Sotto Voce spoilers ahead.

Hood implants something in Virgil’s head to try and coerce him into giving information.

Manifests as John in hallucinations.

Eos hacks it.

Virgil goes a little nuts to protect himself.

Fan approaches during clean up.

Injects Virgil.

Wanted Virgil as experimental.

Gets Brains later?

Secondary plot - new device?

This covers a whole chunk of the story, but if I turn the page over, I have this:

Part 1

Virgil stabbed.

Scott saves him

Returns home

Time passes as he heals

Camera recorded incident

Brothers laugh at Virgil

Virgil has a few weird moments but is not too concerned

Testing a small hydrofoil

Major hallucination

CRASH

If you’ve read the story, you know that that is not exactly what happened, but the skeleton is there. Any plan I write changes as it is written.

Here’s another note for another story:

Mechanic device grabs hold of Virg suit. Attempts to access control of TB2 - Eos intervenes. But still has control of suit - threatens Scott. Virgil manages to tip himself and the suit into a deep crevice.

That became Access Denied, which was followed by The Subject of Virgil.

So I guess I can enter a story either at a scene level or at a concept level. Sometimes it is a scene that I need to build a concept around and sometimes it is the reverse.

But I never write detailed plans because I rely on the flow of the story to tell me where it wants to go. Characters have a logic and they will tell you what they will and won’t do. They run by rules. Sometimes you can coerce them into doing what you want them to, but mostly not. When I say the story wrote itself, it is usually the characters doing what they want due to this logic.

I currently have a Marks and Wings scene in my head that I want to write, but I haven’t found a logic for it yet.

Kayo is standing on a high point of Tracy Island, looking out to sea, waiting. In the distance, a flying figure appears and eventually we realise it is Virgil in flight. Neither of them say anything as he backwings and lands in front of her. They embrace.

That’s all I have at the moment. I think I can fit this into the second part of Gordon, but I’m hung up on logic. The end of Part One has Kay furious and flying Shadow home in the dark with an injured Gordon on board, leaving Virgil to fly the one hundred kilometres home using his tired and aching wings.

Sure she could stand on a high point and wait for him. But no, she’s pissed and worried and her man is out there in the dark alone. No way is she going to wait anywhere. Once she has Gordon safe, she is going to do one of two things - hop back into Shadow and go get the idiot, or if Scott is back, send him to go get him. Either way, there isn’t going to be any romantic reunion. Likely Virgil is going to be raked over the coals by his girlfriend or his big brother or both and then sent to bed. I could possibly shove a massage in there somewhere, but that depends on exactly how the pending argument goes.

So yeah, that is the state of that fic.

Another example would be my current avalanche fic.

I have a single scene in mind. Virgil has to be in a certain state for the scene to happen. How do I get him into that state? I thought about it for a while throwing ideas around until I came up with the avalanche. I latched onto that for a number of reasons - the story involves Bo, an avalanche will create emotional issues for the family, it firms down some backstory for this universe and, well, that scene I posted came up and I couldn’t not write it. Now I just need to populate more scenes and find the flow of the fic - which I have partly set up now, but this one will require a little planning and note taking like the Sotto Voce notes above.

For Give & Take (major fic, long planned, in Warm Rain universe) I will be making a lot of notes. I have lots of scenes for this one in my head, but last time (Love & Sacrifice) I wrote them all higglety-pigglety and the result sucked. It worked much better for Gentle Rain if I wrote it all in order. So I’m holding back and letting the story gel a bit better. I know that the prologue is Goodbye, the epilogue is ‘Hello’ and there are nine chapters in between. I know that there will likely be two timelines running concurrent in the fic. What I need to write down is what roughly happens in each of those chapters - like Part 1 of Sotto Voce above.

All of this stuff is sitting in my head all at once. I write fast because I need to get things down before I forget them or get sick of them. I have the attention span of a gnat at times.

But in answer to your question, it varies from fic to fic. Sometimes I know where I’m going sometimes I don’t. Sometimes a single scene becomes a massive undertaking totally unexpectedly and I find myself looking for back logic to make what I’ve already written believable. It is almost like crossing a creek and looking for viable stones to stand on. Sometimes the stones are shaky, sometimes they take you six miles down stream before you can get to the other side. Sometimes you fall in the river and oh well, that one is never going to get finished :D

I hope the above ramble answers your question. I’m writing this at 4am so my brain isn’t the greatest, but hey, that avalanche fic worked really well at 2.30am, so who knows.:D Don’t hesitate to ask for a little more clarification. I can babble about this for days :D

::hugs:: Thanks for being wonderful.

[studiobeebo]

Summer Daze (Kirishima Eijirou x Fem! Reader)

OKAY i want to start off by saying im really, really sorry this took so long. my motivation has been horrible and i just really didn’t want to make something that was lackluster so i decided to wait until i was more motivated instead

BUT ANYWAYS, this is the scenario for the 1,000 followers giveaway first place winner @ri-leuters following the prompt:

okay so pronouns would be she/her and i'd love this done with our local ball of sunshine kirishima! so i guess they could go out together into a sunflower field or just a normal flower field for a date and just have an all around good time together! also this would be great with lots of kisses and cuddles bc i live for that shit. also last minute request (but you could totally let this slide if you want) but ive always found this endearing; so when they kiss could kirishima pull back for a sec and just freak out over how s/o has tasty lips (prolly bc of her lip balm) and then they just talk about it for a sec and then he starts kissing her more bc "i want to taste!" djkdjdwk forgive me

BUT YE!!! SORRY AGAIN IT TOOK SO LONG AND I HOPE YOU ENJOY RI!!

Summer had to be one of Kirishima’s favorite seasons, if not his absolute favorite. While most people could find reasons to hate that time of the year, be it the sometimes sweltering heat or influx of annoying gnats and mosquitos, he always found a way to look past all the negatives of summer. He lived for the nights where he could sit outside with friends and roast marshmallows or go to the beach to go swimming, and with all the different activities he loved to do during the summer, he was absolutely ecstatic that this year, he got to do all those things with you.

When he first realized he had hopelessly fallen for your passionate, bubbly charm and amazingly adorable looks, he knew it would take time to convince himself to finally confess. To him, you were just so perfect and he couldn’t bare to mess up his chances with a girl like you, so he bided his time and got to know you as much as he could, of course throwing in some awkward flirty comments or attempts to impress you along the way. It was in the spring that he decided to set a deadline for himself, saying that he absolutely wanted to ask you out before the end of the school year, and after spending a good week daydreaming about going on fun summer walks through the park or getting ice cream together, he finally gave in and confessed that he had a crush on you before asking if you would go out to the movies with him. You were absolutely over the moon, having had quite the crush on him as well, and from there your  blooming relationship was almost cinematic considering how well it was going.

On top of how amazing things were going between the two of you, Kirishima was lucky to have asked you out before his ‘deadline’ so when the weather began to get warm the two of you were already comfortable enough with one another for him to start checking off his list of fun summer dates and the first thing he had been wanting to do was to go hiking with you. The trail he had looked up was actually pretty short, only about a mile, but it let off into an incredible field of wildflowers that were supposedly in full bloom at this time of the year. He wanted to keep that part a secret so it would be a nice surprise for you, but he was just so excited that he couldn’t help but blab about it the whole week before the two of you had decided to go. Despite your slight fears that it would be too grossly hot on the weekend to even enjoy the date your boyfriend had so happily set up, his excitement about it was infectious so you couldn’t help but be excited as well. Plus, when the weekend finally came around it was fun to pack up a little picnic for the two of you and it was awfully cute how concerned he was, double and then triple checking that your shoes were comfortable and that you brought enough water.

Once the two of you arrived to the base of the hill that the path led up to on that saturday morning, you were extremely grateful that the weather was just perfect since you’d be walking uphill for most of the way. The first part of your little hike wasn’t too bad, but you slowly began to get a bit worn out the further you walked and you were a bit jealous at how Kirishima was still perfectly fine while you felt like you could take a nap right there in the middle of the path to give your tired muscles a break. Once he noticed you were falling a bit behind, however, Kirishima was nice enough to slow down and walk by your side until you reached the top of the hill and thankfully, the view was absolutely worth the trouble of getting there.

It looked as if the field of bright green grass and variety of colorful flowers swaying in the comforting breeze spanned out for miles and you must have stood there with a bright, open mouthed smile on your face for a good five minutes just looking out over the expanse of beautiful greenery. You continued to gush about how incredible it was as you pulled out your phone to take a few pictures, hoping to save this memory for years to come, but once you were done the two of you finally decided to walk further into the sunny field to find a nice spot to relax.

It took a few minutes to get everything set up, but it was perfectly picturesque once you had laid out the blanket for both of you to rest on before pulling out all the different snacks and drinks you had brought along with you. The two of you sat happily chatting about whatever came to mind while munching on a variety of fruit and other treats and you must have thanked him a million times for bringing you here to which he just smiled and told you it was no big deal.

“No but seriously! It’s absolutely perfect, I thought it might be too warm but the sun feels amazing since it’s so breezy up here!” You cheered, stretching your arms up above your head before falling backwards to lay your head down onto his lap.

“Yeah it is pretty nice, I’m surprised you’re not cold for once.” He teased, picking at a few of the flowers that were spread out around your makeshift ‘bed’.

“Hey I’m not always cold, I just like wearing your sweaters, that’s all.” You quipped, reaching up to pinch his cheek only for him to wince a bit before sending a pout your way as he continued to work on tugging flowers from the ground.

“What are you doing, anyways?” You asked upon noticing he was fiddling around with the flowers he had collected, sitting up from your lying position on his lap to get a better look.

“Nothing..” He mumbled out, though his concentration was very clearly on his task at hand rather than on you. After a moment he blinked, seeming to have realized that he sort of just brushed you off a bit before tearing his eyes from his little project only to give you a soft smile. “I mean it’s something, but you have to give me a second...and don’t look!”

Your brows furrowed in confusion but you just laughed and shook your head, putting your hands over your eyes to show that you’d keep your eyes on your own business. After a moment you decided to drop your hands to focus on your phone instead, trying not to laugh at the way Kirishima flinched and covered up what was in his hands upon seeing your hands drop before relaxing once he realized you weren’t really watching him.

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, you scrolling through some of your notifications and taking a few more pictures to post to your social media and him working on whatever it was he was doing, but eventually the silence between the two of you was broken as he let out an excited “Alright!” before turning back over to you.

“I saw one of these on Mina’s blog, but she didn’t really post instructions so..” He trailed off, holding out what you were guessing was meant to be a flower crown of sorts.

It was more of an..oval shape and the flowers seemed to be forcefully tied together in a misshapen manner. However, while he may have thought it wasn’t as ‘instagram worthy’ as Mina’s flower crowns (Which, you were pretty sure she bought anyways), you thought it was absolutely perfect.

“I think you don’t even need instructions, this look like a pro made it!” You exclaimed, loving the way his face lit up like a puppy being praised for being a good dog. Unfortunately, however, when you went to grab it to wear it, as you figured was his intention for you to do once he gave it to you, the little masterpiece fell to pieces right before you had the chance to lay it atop your head. You scrambled to try to save at least some of it, but your efforts went to waste and you were left with a little pile of flowers sitting in your lap as you looked up slowly with a sheepish smile worn on your face, praying you hadn’t upset him.

“Whoops..Sorry Eiji, I guess my hands are a lot stronger than I thought.” You chuckled before continuing. “But It was so pretty! I feel bad wrecking it like that, I should have taken a picture..”

“Hey that’s alright!” He spoke, sounding a lot happier than you thought he would be considering you just accidentally broke such a cute gift from him before he stood up and grabbed a few of the flowers from the pile that used to be the flower crown he had made for you. After picking up as many as he could, he walked behind you before crouching down and beginning to place a few different flowers throughout your hair. “See? Well, I guess you can’t see, but your hair still looks pretty now! I mean it always looks pretty, but you know what I mean.” He chuckled, moving back to be in front of you and crouching down to the same position to add some more flowers to the front of your hair.

After a moment he appeared..mostly happy with his work, but he was looking at you like an artist looking at one of their paintings that looked pretty good but just needed one last thing to bring it all together. You smiled and chuckled a bit when his face lit up with that ‘Oh, I got it!’ look before he reached over past your shared blanket and grabbed one more flower before moving to push some of your hair behind your ear and then tucking the flower there as well.

“There, that’s good, right?” He asked, adjusting the flower bit, but letting his hand stay near your jaw as his thumb gently ran over your cheek.

“It’s perfect.” You hummed, not even needing to look as you words were more generally aimed at this whole day in general as you leaned in to press your lips against his own. Even though the sun’s rays were plenty warm enough, there was still nothing that could compare to the warmth that bloomed in your chest every time you felt his hand gently cup your jaw and the gentle yet passionate way his lips would mesh with your own.

After a moment, your lips parted from his own and you were a bit surprised to see a look of happy confusion on his face as you pulled away from him a bit.

“..What?”

“You..Kind of taste like one of these flowers smells.”

“...What??” You chuckled out yet again, shaking your head in equal confusion.

“And a lemon! Like a flowery lemon!”

His additional description clicked in your head as you were suddenly reminded of the new lip balm you had bought a few days prior as you laughed out an answer, hardly able to contain yourself considering the adorable look on his face as you stuttered through your words.

“I-It’s my new lip balm! It’s lemon-lavender! Like it?”

“Yeah!” He beamed, “Can I taste again? It’s really sweet..” He continued, but you could tell by the light blush that fanned over his cheeks that the term of ‘tasting’ you was something he didn’t really mean to say aloud, but you didn’t mind either way. You had plenty of kisses to spare for him all the time, and after the amazing day he went through the trouble of planning out, he definitely deserved it.

“Of course.” You giggled, leaning in to peck his lips once more in a more sweet, appreciative way as a sort of thank you. “You can taste as much as you want.”

[yuckitup-jwd]

Fulldekisms Part 2

He writes blank checks on a closed account.

He'd screw up a two-car funeral procession.

He'll eventually qualify as a Darwin Award winner.

He's a General Protection Fault trigger.

He's a man on a mission, but can't find his dossier.

He's as soppy as a sack. (British)

He's been invited to every party in town... Once.

He's completely West Ham. (Two stops short of Barking on theLondon Underground.)

He's diagnosable.

He's in a federal witless protection program.

He's not a complete idiot -- some parts are missing.

He's not stupid; he's possessed by a retarded ghost.

He's really into himself... His head is up his ass.

He's so dense, light bends around him.

He's so dense, the Titanic wouldn't sink in his head.

Hears everything that a dog can.

Hears more lyrics on records when they're played backwards.

Her access time approaches infinity.

Her ancestors came to this country looking for bananas.

Her ass is sucking swamp gas.

Her blender doesn't go past "mix".

Her body is rejecting her.

Her brain cells are as hard to isolate as <your favoritepolitician's> concern for his/her electorate.

Her brain comes with single-bit error detection and half-assederror correction.

Her brain has a corrupted filesystem / someone needs to runfsck on her brain.

Her brain is as useless as a mule's gonads.

Her brain is more like a Rube Goldberg device than a computer.

Her cache is incoherent.

Her career is just taking off -- she's never at work.

Her closet is full of hangars, but no clothing.

Her dentist went deaf from the drill's echoes.

Her dialing thumb must be broken.

Her display is always flashing 12:00.

Her driver's license says, "Picture continued on other side."

Her ears serve the same function as holes in a dribble glass.

Her face is a threat to clocks everywhere.

Her files are compressed 100%.

Her finals are burned out.

Her friends took her aside, and left her there. -- Ron Richards

Her gene pool could use a little chlorine / a good filter.

Her head doesn't cast a shadow.

Her head needs a periodic whack on the side.

Her input pipe is broken.

Her interrupt handler hit a loop.

Her IQ is the reason they had to invent negative/imaginary numbers.

Her kid is an honor student, but she's still an idiot.

Her leads need resoldering.

Her learning curve is fractal.

Her lint trap is full.

Her lists are unlinked.

Her memory is truly random-access.

Her mental function can be graphed with a single dot.

Her mere presence causes parity errors, power fails, and head crashes.

Her mind is not grounded to a logic supply.

Her mind might have spontaneously combusted.

Her mind would be unstable even mounted on a tripod.

Her modem lights are on but there's no carrier.

Her objects are not fully oriented.

Her only hope for brainpower is vacuum point energy.

Her personal problems can only be solved using high explosives.

Her phone doesn't quite reach her desk.

Her pool balls don't fit into the rack.

Her positronic matrix won't reboot.

Her purpose in life is to balance out the bell curve.

Her random access is the same as her sequential access.

Her sewing machine's been out of thread for some time now.

Her ski lift doesn't go to the top of the hill.

Her stack has been corrupted.

Her synapses are about |that| far apart.

Her system file has zero bytes.

Her tires are a little low.

Her wheels are turning but she's upside down. -- U2

Her wipers don't touch the glass.

Her word length is zero bits.

Hid behind the door when they passed out brains.

High relative humidity... He's lost in a fog.

His access light's on, but the drive isn't spinning / isstill spinning up.

His accumulator overflows at zero.

His actual mileage varies.

His antenna/radio doesn't pick up all the channels/stations.

His boot block is in a bad sector.

His boot ROM has a bad checksum.

His brackets are mismatched.

His brain could be the perfect dielectric.

His brain is sueing for neglect.

His brain was sold separately and they were out of stock.

His brain would rattle around in a gnat's navel.

His bread ain't done.

His buffer is full.

His clutch is slipping.

His data bus stops for red lights.

His deck has no face cards.

His elevator is stuck between floors.

His face is on a coin... On the edge.

His family tree is a telephone pole.

His family wasn't dysfunctional until he arrived.

His freelist is empty.

His future is behind schedule. -- Bob Thaves

His gene line isn't just dead, it's extinct.

His golf bag does not contain a full set of irons. -- Robin Williams

His grades were so bad, after school he couldn't even getinto prison. -- Shannon Sharpe

His grey matter is brown / doesn't matter.

His head whistles in a cross wind.

His home page is out of order.

His home planet is flat.

His IQ test results were negative / IQ is a false positive.

His jack can't get the car off the ground.

His military nomenclature is ID-10-T (idiot).

His mind is a few Hertz off its assigned frequency.

His mind is great at error magnification.

His mind is less substantial than the Emperor's new clothes.

His mind is on vacation but his mouth is working overtime. -- Allision

His mind is write-protected/write-only.

His mind reached escape velocity and achieved orbit.

His mind wandered and never came back.

His motto is: Space, the final frontier.

His mouth rarely makes calls to his brain.

His only hope for sexual variety is vegetables / to change hands.

His outgoing message starts with, "Hello, Mr. Answering Machine."

His page was intentionally left blank.

His picture is in the dictionary under "zero".

His pointers are null/uninitialized.

His puzzle is missing a few pieces.

His reaction time is longer than his attention span. -- Thaves

His root file system isn't mounted.

His seat back is not in the full upright and locked position.

His shared libraries aren't installed.

His signal-to-noise ratio is epsilon.

His signature is long, boring, and stupid, but it's the bestpart of his postings.

His spark can't jump the gap.

His spirit guide is a three-toed sloth.

His stack's not very deep / he has an eight-byte stack.

His strings aren't null-terminated.

His strip is demagnetized.

His system administrator is never in.

His train tracks aren't quite parallel.

His URL denies outside access.

His watch dog is sleeping.

His Wheaties have been in the milk too long.

His wisdom is stolen from bumper-stickers and T-shirts.

His wits have left the rails and are careening about the countryside.

His X, Y, and Z axes don't meet at the origin.

Hitler's evil twin.

Holds a grudge until it dies of old age, then has it stuffed andmounted. -- David Weber

Hyperspatially interconnected / permanently disconnected neural net.

Hypnotized as a child and couldn't be woken.

I like him; he reminds me of when I was young and stupid.

I would follow him anywhere, but only out of curiosity.

I wouldn't piss in his ear if his brain was on fire.

I'd like to buy him for what he's worth and sell him for what hethinks he's worth.

I've worn dresses with higher IQs than his.

If brains were bird droppings, he'd have a clean cage.

If brains were chocolate, he wouldn't have enough for an M&M.

If brains were dynamite, she wouldn't have enough to blow hernose / her hat off / the wax out of her ears.

If brains were farts, he couldn't stink up the inside of a matchbox.

If brains were gasoline, he couldn't ride a moped around a fruit loop.

If brains were grains of sand, he couldn't fill a dixie cup.

If brains were lard, he'd be hard pressed to grease a small pan.

If brains were leather, he couldn't saddle a flea.

If brains were taxed, he'd get a rebate.

If brains were water, hers wouldn't be enough to baptize a flea.

If dumb were dirt, he'd be an acre.

If fashion law is ever enforced, he'll be found guilty withouthope of parole.

If God tried to help him, we'd have an eight day week.

If he didn't exist, he wouldn't be worth inventing.

If he donated his brain to science it'd set civilization back 50 years.

If he gets any denser, the geocentric theory of the universewill come true.

If he had a lobotomy he'd depressurize.

If he had another brain (cell), it would be lonely.

If he had brains, he'd take them out and play with them.

If he had console lights, we would see only the idle loop patterns.

If he had half a brain, his ass would be lopsided.

If he were an Indian, Custer would be alive today / would havedied of old age.

If he were any brighter he'd be in the visible spectrum.

If he were any more stupid, he'd have to be watered twice a week.

If her brains were put in a hummingbird, it would fly backwards.

If his brain were a hard drive, it would back up on a single floppy.

If his brains were money, he'd still be in debt.

If his IQ was two points higher he'd be a rock.

If ignorance were bliss, she'd be orgasmic.

If it's not in his horoscope/tea leaves, he doesn't take it seriously.

If men were dominoes, he would be the double-blank. -- P.G. Wodehouse

If not for his scrotum, he would lose his balls.

If sex appeal were dynamite, he couldn't blow the cobwebsoff his balls.

If she had a disk we could upgrade her with DOS 3.0.

If she was any dumber, she'd be a green plant.

If stupidity hurt, he'd go through life on a morphine drip.

If stupidity were a crime, he'd be number one on the Most Wanted list.

If the government ever declared war on stupidity, he'd get nuked.

If there were a merciful God he'd be dead by now.

If they each had half a brain, they'd still only have half a brain.

If they knock heads, implosion will suck all the air out of the room.

If what you don't know can't hurt you, she's practically invulnerable.

If wit were shit, he'd be constipated.

If you called him a wit, you'd be half right.

If you give him a penny for his thoughts, you get change back.

If you stand close enough to him, you can hear the ocean.

Ignorant, and proud of it.

Immune from any serious head injury.

Immune to caffeine and all other stimulants.

In a tub of Preparation H, he'd shrink down to thumb size.

In his optimum environment, he'd be locked in a life and deathstruggle with mushrooms.

In line for brains, thought they said pains, and said, "No, thanks".

In line for brains, thought they said trains, and asked for onewith lots of steam / said his dad just bought him one.

In line for brains, thought they said were handing out milkshakes,and he asked for "extra thick."

In need of a ROM upgrade.

In serious need of attitude adjustment.

In the pinball game of life, his flippers were a little fartherapart than most.

In the shopping mall of the mind, he's in the toy store.

In touch with her higher power, but out of touch with the rest of us.

Includes a "thank you" note with her tax returns.

Infinite space between her ears.

Informationally deprived.

Inhabits her own private timezone.

Inspected by #13.

Inspired the slogan, "A mind is a terrible thing to waste."

Intellectually/synaptically challenged.

Intelligence somewhere between a pet rock and egg white.

Invented a pencil with an eraser on each end.

Invented a submarine with a screen door.

IQ = dx / (1 + dx), where x = age.

IQ lower than a snake's belly in a wagon-rut.

It's hard to believe he beat 100,000 other sperm.

Just another flash in the bedpan.

Just asleep, but others worry that he's dead.

Keeps his imagination on a long leash.

Kept an open mind -- and his brains fell out.

Keywords: generalizations clue get

Knitting with only one needle.

Knows his sports, but his understanding is limited to violence.

Landed with his gear/brain up and locked.

Leaky sunroof.

Left hand threaded.

Left his booster on the launch pad.

Left the store without all of his groceries.

Leveled off before reaching altitude.

Life by Norman Rockwell, but screenplay by Stephen King.

Lightbulb over his head is burned out.

Lights / porch lights are on but nobody's home.

Lights not burning too bright.

Like a barometer -- vacuum at the top.

Like a loose-leaf folder in winter.

Like a one-armed man climbing a rope.

Likes dunking for french fries.

Likes to execute his data.

Little red choo-choo's gone chugging 'round the bend /jumped the track.

Lives in La-la-land.

Lives in the same world, but a different universe.

Lives just up the street from the corner of Walk and Don't Walk.

Living proof of Einstein's theory that there is no limit tohuman stupidity.

Living proof that evolution CAN go in reverse.

Living proof that God did die back in the 60s.

Living proof that God has a sense of humor.

Living proof that nature does not abhor a vacuum.

Living proof that there's ALWAYS someone worse off than you.

Long on drywall, short on studs.

Looking for a nickel in the corner of a circular room.

Looks for the "Any" key.

Looks just like Bill Gates.

Loose chip on the microprocessor board.

Loose wire to his headset/ringer.

Lost his marbles.

Lots of silverware on his table, but no plates.

Loves a good insult, but can never remember any.

Low on thinking gas.

Low-bandwidth as an information source.

Luckily these types kill themselves before reproducing... Thinkof it as evolution in action. -- Larry Niven

Lugnuts rattling in the hubcaps.

Made a career out of mid-life crisis.

Mainspring's wound too tight.

Makes a black hole look bright.

Makes predictions that make weathermen/economists look good.

Meandering to a different drummer.

Memorized every Dr. Seuss story written.

Mental software is Version 1.0 / still in beta test.

Mentally qualified for handicapped parking.

Metronome needs oil.

Might look like he's doing nothing, but at the cellular levelhe's really quite busy.

Might still be a virgin except for what nature did to her mind.

Mind like a steel sieve.

Mind like a steel trap -- everything gets mangled / full of mice /nothing in, nothing out / rusted shut / someday it willsnap shut and swallow his face.

Missed her last four scheduled tune-ups.

Missed the last train to Clue Junction. -- Rev Billy Wirtz

Missing a few buttons on his remote control.

Missing a few catalog cards / gears / marbles.

Missing a layer of insulation in his attic.

Monorail doesn't go all the way to Tomorrowland.

Mooring lines don't reach the dock.

More armpits than brain cells.

More marbles in a spray-paint can than brains in his head.

Mouth is in gear, brain is in neutral.

Moves his lips to pretend he's reading.

Must have ignored a knock-down pitch.

Nearly lives up to her full potential as a dumb blond.

Nearly on a higher plane, but lost his boarding pass.

Needed a tutor to learn how to scribble.

Needs a checkup from the neck up.

Needs a little remedial evolution.

Needs a stepladder to pick his nose.

Needs an operating manual for a screwdriver.

Needs another brain to make half-wit.

Needs both hands to wipe his behind.

Needs front end alignment.

Needs his disk checked/reformatted.

Needs his sleeves lengthened by a couple of feet so theycan be tied in the back.

Neither left-brained nor right-brained. -- Bob Thaves

Nervous as a long-tailed bobcat in a room full of rocking chairs.

Network constantly loses packets.

Neurons are firing non-sequentially.

Never finishes a thoug

Never had a headcold in her life since diseases can't existin a vacuum.

Never misses an episode of her screensaver.

Next-day delivery in a nanosecond world. -- Van Jacobson

Nice color but not enough wattage.

Nice house but not much furniture / nobody lives there.

Nine pence in the shilling.

Nine rooms; no furniture.

Nineteen cents short of a paradigm.

No bubble in his gauge. (Refers to a submarine dive gauge.)

No charge in her synapses.

No coins in the old fountain.

No filter in the coffeemaker.

No grain in the silo.

No hands on the rudder/yoke.

No hay in the loft.

No one at the throttle.

No ROM basic.

No salt in his socks. (Land-lubber or green sailor.)

No tar in his hemp. (Tar preserves a hemp (marijuana) line; thisphrase means one has been smoking his rope.)

No wind in her mind's windmills.

Not all his dogs are barking.

Not an idiot, but plays one in his life.

Not as dumb as he looks, but that would be impossible.

Not digging in the same ditch with the rest of us.

Not done evolving yet.

Not enough brain cells for the Prozac to be effective.

Not enough brains to get anywhere NEAR the gutter.

Not enough bullets for Russian Roulette.

Not enough change to break a dollar/pound/deutschmark/yen.

Not enough sense to come in out of the rain.

Not enough sense to stay out in the rain. (Like a 60's flower child.)

Not firing on all four/six/eight cylinders.

Not firmly seated in the socket / screwed in tight.

Not hard-docked.

Not inflated to 90 PSI / head is stamped "inflate to 40 PSI".

Not Intel Inside. (Or, given Pentium problems, just: Intel inside.)

Not much to show for four billion years of evolution.

Not only rude, but ugly too.

Not playing with / dealing from a full deck (-- not even in the game).

Not ready for prime time.

Not running on full thrusters.

Not shooting pool on a level table.

Not so much of a has-been, as a won't-be.

Not the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree / light in the harbor /crayon in the box.

Not the full quid.

Not the hottest burner on the stovetop.

Not the same since they took him off his medication.

Not the sharpest knife/spoon in the drawer / tool in the shed /nail in the box / quill on the porcupine.

Not Turing equivalent.

Not within a bull's roar. (A term used by lawn bowlers.)

Not worth henshit on a pump handle.

Not worth pissin' on.

Not wrapped too tight.

Nothing between the stethoscopes.

Nothing on her radar.

Numb as a post / pounded thumb.

Number 'n a hake. (New England expression; a notoriously stupid fish.)

Nutty as a fruitcake.

Of all the things he's lost, he misses his mind the most.

Off by one.

Off his rocker/trolley.

Oil doesn't reach his dipstick.

On permanent/unexcused leave of absence from his senses.

On the batting end of a no-hitter.

One anna short of a rupee.

One bead short in her rosary.

One bean short of chili.

One bean shy of full strength.

One beer short of a six-pack / a six-pack short of a case.

One bird short of a flock.

One bit short of a byte/word.

One blade short of a sharp edge. -- Nanci Griffith

One block short of a filesystem.

One board short of a porch.

One bomb/melon short of a full load.

One boot stuck in the sand.

One bottom short of a bucket.

One brick short of a wall/hod/load/pile.

One bumper/rail short of a bank shot.

One bun/donut short of a dozen.

One byte short of a checksum.

One byte short of a full 256K SIMM.

One car short of a chase scene.

One card/marble short of a full deck.

One chapter short of a novel.

One chicken short of a henhouse.

One chip short of a cookie.

One chip short of a megabyte.

One citation short of a footnote.

One clearance short of landing/take off.

One clown short of a circus.

One clue short of a solution.

One cold solder joint.

One color short of a full deck. (A half-wit.)

One color short of color-coordinated.

One couplet short of a sonnet.

One course short of a degree. (As in: "I've got a degree inhome economics, but I was only one course short of adegree in advanced nuclear physics.")

One crayon short of a full box.

One crouton short of a salad.

One cup and saucer short of a place setting.

One cylinder short of a full re-format.

One diamond short of a ring.

One dimension short of reality.

One doughnut short of being a cop.

One drool bib short of neat and tidy.

One drop short of an empty bladder.

One ear short of a bushel.

One electron shy of a full shell / noble gas arrangement.

One feather short of a whole duck.

One fish short of a string.

One floor below the poopdeck.

One flower short of an arrangement.

One flying buttress short of a cathedral.

One foot in the future, one foot in the past, pissing on the present.

One french fry / hamburger short of a Happy Meal.

One Froot Loop short of a full bowl.

One fruit short of a basket.

One gene short of a full chromosome.

One goose short of a gaggle.

One grape short of a bunch.

One guppy short of an aquarium.

One handle short of a suitcase.

One harmonic short of a tubular bell.

One hot pepper short of an enchilada.

One inch short of a foot/yard.

One inspection short of passing.

One kangaroo short in her top paddock.

One kernel short of an ear.

One key short of a piano.

One kopek short of a ruble.

One link short of a chain.

One live brain cell away from being a talking monkey.

One measure short of a staff.

One miracle short of being where he thinks he's at.

One miracle wouldn't be enough to help him.

One monkey short of a full hundred.

One node short of a network.

One nut short of a full pouch.

One of the early failures of electroshock therapy.

One open splice.

One pancake short of a stack.

One pane short of a window.

One pea short of a pod/casserole.

One peak short of a chromatogram.

One pearl short of a necklace.

One pickle short of a jar.

One pie short of a holiday.

One plane short of an Air Force / hangar.

One point short of a polygon.

One prayer short of absolution.

One press short of a CAPS LOCK key. (Types all uppercase.)

One punch/swing/hit short of a fight.

One quark short of a hadron.

One republic short of an empire.

One revision behind.

One sandwich/apple/ant short of a picnic.

One saucer short of a tea-service.

One scallop short of a seafood platter.

One screw loose.

One screw shy of a final assembly.

One sentence short of a paragraph.

One shade short of a rainbow.

One sheep short of a sweater.

One shingle short of a roof, and the water's getting in.

One ship short of a full fleet.

[mheara-blog1]

Killugon Fanfic

*Welcome to the random one shot drabble of my mind. Hope you like it, I’ve not written in so long, I apologise if there’s any mistakes or it doesn’t make sense.*

-Killugon fluff. Teen.-

Killua sighs and rubs his eyes, this was always a bad time of year for him. It was his birthday and that always created confusion in his heart and mind. His life had improved in the last fifteen years, his sister Alluka was doing well in the school he had discovered for her, privacy was their number one concern. His family still ground on his nerves but that was normal and he had gotten used to it, no, what really bothered him was Gon. His best friend was a thorn in his side that he was more than happy to have causing him irritation. It was sweet really, he had been trying to discover for years when Killua’s birthday was, but he had had no luck just yet. He sat in his office, twisting his chair back and forth, running his hand through his freshly cut hair. He picked up the photo frame next to his computer, it was a picture of himself and Gon when they were teens, graduating University. He had studied Music like he wanted and not the Accountancy or Business studies that he parents were pushing him towards. Gon completed his course in Animal ecology and Biology, the memory caused a smile to drift across his sharp features. The pang in his heart reminded him of how he missed his friend. But over the years, the pain had grown deeper, Gon was always travelling the world and while Killua had joined him for the first few years, Alluka’s safety and well being kept him on the same continent. He had come to a realisation a few years ago when Gon had a nasty accident when dealing with some ecological developments over in the African suburbs. It was touch and go for a few months, and mentally it was the same for Killua, coming close to losing Gon was the most agonising feeling he had ever had to process. That’s when it hit him that he might feel more than just friendship towards the young man. He hadn’t been able to tell Gon of these feelings though, he was pretty sure that Gon didn’t feel the same way, the guy always had a flurry of girlfriends, though none of them stuck around for too long. Ever since that young boy came into his life, he was the shining light that led Killua through the darkest of times. Killua sighed and placed the treasured photo back next to his computer, he didn’t know when he would see Gon again, though his friend had promised it would be soon. His phone rang, jolting him out of the almost bad mood he was spiralling into. He picked up a lot more cheerful when he saw the caller ID. ‘Alluka,’ he said with affection.

'Big brother!’ She replies with a audible smile. 'Happy Birt-’

'Don’t Ali,’ he laughs shaking his head. 'I don’t even want to hear those words. You know I don’t like today,’ he says shrugging a shoulder she won’t see. He got out of his padded desk chair and began to wander as they spoke. He left his office and ambled towards his music room, idly plucking strings of his guitars as he passed. 'How are things?’ He asks with tilt of his head.

'Well Uni is going well, I even met someone who seems interested in me. I got A’s in English, French and Biology, I suck at Math and I have begun to take an after school class in Dance,’ she babbles. She wanted to wish him a happy birthday, but he as usual wasn’t having any of it. She pouted, it was getting old. She knew that his birthdays weren’t happy occasions when they lived with their mum and dad, it was a constant reminder that he as getting older and wasn’t fulfilling their expectations. 'Also I finally passed my driving test! Took forever and the examiner was so mean-’

Killua was replaying the conversation in his head. 'Woah, hold up there, what do you mean you met someone? Someone who’s interested in you?’ He said with concern. 'Alluka, you know how I feel about this sort of thing,’ he is trying to be open minded and he knows that she’s getting older; but it was hard to not be protective over her.

'Of course that would be the bit that you focus on,’ he heard her sigh. 'Killy,’ she said with a whine. 'Just meet her and you’ll see,’ Alluka says softly. 'You know I love you and you know that you’re being a little silly about this. I’ll arrange for us to come over and see you during half term, now I’ve gotta go,’ she says hearing the school bell. Killua purses his lips as she says goodbye and hangs the phone up with a swipe of his finger.

'I love you too,’ he says although she had disconnected. He left his music room to go downstairs into the kitchen to make some tea, 'she’ huh, that’s a little surprising, he smiles to himself, though not entirely unexpected. Somehow, knowing that it was a woman that was interested in Alluka made it a bit more bearable, he could remember his own antics at that age. He filled the kettle and looked out the window where he could see the lake, that the forest surrounded. They were halfway up a mountain, almost inaccessible to those who didn’t know how to get there. Killua had made his own money through songwriting and melodies, he refused to rely on his parent’s bank accounts or cards. Surprisingly his phone rang again and he hadn’t bothered to check the ID when he picked up. 'Killua speaking,’ he said simply as he poured his tea.

'Killua!’ A familiar voice practically shouted down the line at him. Killua couldn’t help the sile that spread across his face.

'Idiot!’ He swore holding the phone from his ear. 'I’m not deaf you know,’ he says the humour clear in his voice. Gon laughs, Killua rolls his eyes and takes his tea to the balcony, trying not to think about how his heart is skipping with delight at the sound of his voice.

'Man, it is so good to hear your voice,’ Gon says, it’s strangely quiet on his end of the phone. Normally when Gon can call him, it’s full of hustle and bustle of whatever city or random village he’s in. His words made Killua blush and he was strangely thankful that Gon couldn’t see him. 'I’ve missed you, I spoke to Alluka earlier, she seems well,’ he says happily. Listening to his friend made his emotions soar, he wasn’t really paying attention to what Gon was saying, more revelling in the fact that he got to speak to him and hear his voice. He tuned back in when he heard Gon repeat himself. 'Killua? Killua? What are you doing now?’ He asked, 'are you at home or you in a city with a producer or something?’

Killua laughs and shakes his head, 'I’m at home, drinking a cup of tea and listening to you, you idiot,’ he smiles. 'What else would I be doing if I picked up the phone when you rang me?’ He rolls his eyes as he leans on the railing. The breeze runs through his hair and creates chills on his bare chest, it was early in the morning, the sun had only been up a few hours casting a golden glow over the lake.

'Did you cut your hair?’ Gon asked changing the subject. Killua raised a brow, wondering why that suddenly came up.

'Yeah, wanted a change. I was starting to look like Kite,’ he laughs taking a sip of his tea. 'What’s the matter did Alluka say something? I did send her a picture of what it looked like, she was utterly insistent that I send her one. She harassed me non-stop while I was getting it done the other morning.’ He felt a pit grow in his stomach as he waited for Gon’s reply. Instead he heard the line click off, as Gon either hung up or ran out of signal. It happened sometimes when he was in back road that didn’t have good connection. He looked at his phone and sighed. 'Great,’ he murmured to himself, now he wouldn’t ever know as Gon had the attention span of a Gnat. He wouldn’t remember that they were talking about this when they next spoke. He finished his tea and dangled the cup over the edge for a couple of moments as he took the sun on his face. He relished in the light heat, still feeling his heart jump from the conversation with him, it was almost a perfect day if it weren’t for the fact it was his birthday. He turned around and promptly dropped the cup he was holding, flinching at the smash it made on the tiled floor.

'I think it looks great, I really like it. It suits you a lot,’ Gon said with a smile beaming at Killua. He held the phone in his hand and chuckled. 'Sorry, I wanted it to be a surprise,’ he added. Killua could do nothing but gape, he was here! Gon had taken a moment to himself to watch his best friend in the sunlight, the rays turning his usual glossy white locks a wonderful liquid gold, his skin dusted with a glorious range of shadows, enhancing his supple frame, slim waist and elegant shoulders. His chest pounded with the anticipation of Killua’s smile. Gon watched as his friend’s cheeks bloom a wonderful rose colour, coupled with his action of turning away, using his fringe to hide the fact.

'Ugh!’ Killua says, his lips turning into the sweetest half smile, making his reddened cheeks darken. 'You’re still such an idiot,’ he laughs running his hand through his hair. He looked at his phone and then back at Gon. 'You totally had me, I didn’t think I would see you this soon,’ he mumbles, ignoring the smashed cup on the floor and walking towards him. Gon was dressed in a suit, which made him wonder what the occasion was, Killua had to resist licking his lips, Gon looked so incredibly handsome, his hair was untameable as ever, it’s black rebellious spikes waved in the light breeze. His suit was unbuttoned at the front and he held his other hand in his trouser pocket, just looking at him made his mouth go dry.

'I missed you Killua,’ Gon said slipping his phone into his inside jacket pocket and rubbing the back of his head. Killua pulled a face and laughed a little nervously, this man was determined to make him combust.

'Yeah, I missed you too, idiot,’ Killua eventually replies, 'what’s with the suit?’ He asks trying to distract Gon. 'I thought you were in some back alley forest, trying to save a ladybug or something?’ He teases lightly. He would go back inside but Gon is in the doorway, so he leans against the railing again, crossing his arms.

'Well it’s not every day that I get to see you,’ Gon laughs as he comes closer to Killua. 'Especially when you’re looking so cute,’ he retorts. Killua rolls his eyes and purses his lips as he looks at him with a glare. Gon laughs and holds up his hands. 'Okay, okay, I wanted to tell you something,’ he smiles, his nervousness beginning to show.

'Oh? What is it?’ Killua asks, that pit returning in his stomach again, this time it was accompanied by a ball in his throat.

'I think I’m in love,’ Gon says quietly, his blush making his tan cheeks turn into a wonderful shade of red. His freckles stood out like a dusting of cinnamon on a mocha. Killua tried so hard not to show the immense turmoil in his facial expression and instead plastered on a fake smile as he blinked back tears.

'Who is the lucky girl?’ He asked through a sticky mouth, his tongue and lips dry. Gon simply shrugs a shoulder, not replying.

'I got you a present,’ he replies, putting his hand back into his pocket, Killua could kill him. Dropping a bombshell like that and then acting like nothing ever happened. 'But you gotta close your eyes, then I’ll give it to you,’ Killua pouted and his anger was evident. But a smile from Gon made it lose most it’s harshness, Killua couldn’t help but mimic him. 'It’s from Africa, I just got back and I thought of you when I got it, so close your eyes and just relax,’ he says softly. Killua felt incredibly self conscious but did as his friend asked and leaned back as he relaxed, closing his eyes. He felt Gon move closer to him and a slight pressure against his lips, Gon was pressing a small chocolate against his mouth. Killua chuckled lightly and let him place the sweet on his tongue, it melted within an instant, Killua could tell that it had already become soft with the heat of Gon’s fingertips. It ruptured into an orange crème, the dark concoction filling Killua’s mouth.

'That’s amazing,’ Killua says swallowing and licking his lips a little. He goes to open his eyes but Gon tells him off.

'Don’t open your eyes until I say!’ Gon says simply, Killua laughs and protests that they’re not kids any more but Gon isn’t having it. 'Come on Killua, for me,’ he says softly, knowing that Killua couldn’t refuse him. With a playful huff he keeps his eyes dramatically closed, Gon’s own eyes are drawn to his mouth watching his tongue dart out to lick his lips once more. Gon picked a white chocolate oval and couldn’t help his heart rate spike as Killua’s lips parted, his sweet breath washing over him. He placed the chocolate on his tongue, loving the warmth he felt on his fingertips. Killua closed his mouth tasting the incredible succulent strawberry that flooded his tongue. Gon almost caved there and then, wanting to pull this beautiful man closer and envelope himself against him. 'So, remember how I said that I had fallen in love?’ He asked, seeing that Killua’s expression stilled and hardened a little, he looked like he was about to retort but Gon continued. 'It took me a long time to figure it out and I’m not sure what I’m going to do about it,’ he said softly, he picked another sweet from the box, this time a luxurious caramel covered in milk chocolate. He had to press it against Killua’s lips to her him to open his mouth, he slipped it in between his teeth. 'But I think you know,’ he says his voice deepened with want. 'This is the last one,’ he warned as Killua finished the caramel. Killua smiles a little, amused by what Gon was doing, this was all a little silly, Killua thought, but he wasn’t going to stop it. He wanted to enjoy this moment with Gon for as long as possible, he was always travelling and he rarely spent long with him.

Killua half anticipated the next sweet and opened his mouth gently, but what came next was something of a dream. Gon was already standing close to him, but he had removed all distance and grabbed Killua around the waist, pulling him tightly to him. Gon’s lips almost tenderly crush Killua’s as he lets his desire take over him. Dropping the box of chocolates, Gon wound his fingers through his silver locks, revelling in the softness between his skin. Killua had stiffened as Gon kissed him, but without meaning to let his own emotions pour into his body. His chest fell against Gon’s, his arms that were crossed loosened and rested on Gon’s hips. Killua’s fingertips dug into the cloth that Gon wore, gripping it tightly. He didn’t want this moment to end and he couldn’t believe it was happening. His mouth was warm and left a tantalisingly flavour on his tongue, it was addictive, Killua almost couldn’t stop himself from moaning into him.

Gon reluctantly pulled away, his lips still wet from Killua’s mouth, the warmth leaving quickly. Both of them breathed heavily, and when Killua finally opened his eyes he only saw the rich, swirling amber of Gon’s eyes piercing back at him. 'What…idiot!’ Killua swore, pushing him away a little. 'What about this girl you love?’ The hurt was evident in Killua’s expression, Gon wanted nothing more than to comfort him. 'What was that for?’ He asked, his voice stuttering a little.

'I didn’t say it was a girl, and it’s because,’ Gon said pulling him closer again. 'It’s you,’ he says softly, brushing Killua’s hair out his eyes. His crystal clear, pale electric blue eyes. Eyes that when Gon stared into them, he felt like he lost his very being, his soul lost in the abyss. Killua’s eyes glittered, tears beginning to emerge.

'You don’t mean that,’ he murmurs looking away. 'You’re just… I don’t know, but you’re not being serious,’ he whispers turning and moving away completely. Gon’s heart felt like it had been impaled, true it had taken him far too long to figure out his feelings towards his best friend. But, they were all there, all true.

'Killua, I would never lie to you. I want you,’ Gon says pulling him back towards him. 'It’s always been you,’ he murmurs pressing his cheek against Killua’s. He felt Killua’s tears fall against his skin. This was not the time for lust, this was the time for comfort and love, which he was more than happy to provide. He wrapped his arms around his best friend and allowed him to be engulfed by all Killua’s confused emotions. 'Don’t cry, not today,’ he whispered placing a delicate kiss on his head, 'not on your birthday,’ he adds, feeling him jolt.

'You bastard,’ Killua hissed, burying his head into Gon’s neck, inhaling his scent deeply. 'I hate you,’ he grumbles. 'So much.’

Gon laughs and holds him tighter, 'no you don’t. You love me. And I love you,’ he says feeling his heart swell. Killua laughed as he pulled away so he could look at his friend. Sometimes something much more blossoms from friendship, something to be treasured and something rare. Killua wasn’t going to let it slip his grasp. They embraced again, blissfully unaware of the sun or breeze that surrounded them, too consumed with each other. On the floor of the balcony Killua’s phone buzzed. Once. Twice. Then the message light appeared.

'Happy Birthday, Big brother! Hope you have one to remember! Love Alluka xox’

*Feel free to reblog*