“Shit, this is gross.”

“Then get the fuck out.”

“I can’t, you moved that goddamn dresser in front of the door with your fucking Hundred Power.”

“Well, I can’t have anyone hearing this.”

“It’s messy.”

“Never thought you’d care about a little blood, Kotetsu.”

“Human blood is one thing. And—shit, what’s that?

“It’s a kitten.”

“The fuck it is! It looks like something I blow into a tissue.”

“You’re repulsive. You’d better be nicer to them when they’re at your house.”

“…the fuck did you just say?”

“When they’re at your house. They can hardly stay here.”

“The fuck? I’m not having snotty little kittens running around my place, they’ll fuck it up.”

Barnaby’s red eyes narrow, snapping together into dangerous slits. “I’m still your fucking boss.”

“Dammit, Bunny, you haven’t brought that up in years. I—”

“Am I still your fucking boss?”

“Don’t make me spank you.”

Then he’s looking down the barrel of Barnaby’s gun, and shit, this might be more trouble than it’s worth. Kind of like Bunny, really.

Funny how those things wound up being worth the trouble anyway.


[omg what did I do]

“Magister!”

“Yes, Excellency.”

Larsa looked up, blinked for a moment at the promptness of the response. “How long have you been in the room?”

“I never left.”

“Oh.” Larsa stretched his neck, wincing a little at the movement after so long in the same position, reviewing the shipment of aid to those parts of the Empire most affected by the current drought. “Then you’re due for a break, I believe.”

“No, Excellency.”

“You can at least take the mask off.”

There was a moment of hesitation, and Larsa didn’t miss the twitch towards the door. “It’s quite all right,” he said, a little smile tugging at his lips. “Your face is its own disguise, after all. And we are quite alone.”

After another moment, Basch flipped the catches, pulling the helmet off to rub the sweat from his brow. He’d let Larsa try the helmet on before—or was that Gabranth?—and the Emperor knew well how stuffy and hot they could be. “My Lord,” he said with a bow, setting his helmet down, “you could use a break yourself.”

“Fine words from the man who won’t take one when it’s offered.”

“I simply don’t wish to cause you undue difficulty, should you need me and not find me here.”

Larsa tilted his head, the smile returning. “And if I wished you to be at your leisure in my presence? What would my loyal servant say then?”

“He would say that it is difficult to be relaxed around you, my lord.”

“And why is that?”

Basch’s face was well-trained, not revealing even a hint of a smile. “Because I never know what you’re going to do next.” It had been difficult, to watch him learn to hide his feelings, to lock them down like a member of the Empire rather than the open honesty of a good man from Landis. 

“Then perhaps I should do something conventional, to ease your mind. Would a light meal suffice?”

“Yes, my lord. I’ll—” 

Larsa put a hand on Basch’s helmet as the older man reached for it. “With you. Not alone. I am weary of meals alone.”

He took it as a good sign that Basch wasn’t able to hide that expression.


Transforming still feels a little strange—like shedding a skin he never knew he had, or taking off an overcoat he never realized had been fastened a little too tightly. Once he’s in his other form, what they tell him is his real form, it’s easy, it’s free, though he hasn’t quite got the knack of flying yet.

Oh, but he wants to. Wants it badly, because he can’t risk making a mistake, not with Gyousou on his back. Gyousou only strokes his mane, tells him he’s still a bit small to ride in any case, and that they’ll have hundreds of years to practice.

“Besides,” he says, lifting Taiki easily onto his lap once he’s back in his human form, “you’ll need all that time.”

“Oh? For what, Master Gyousou?”

“To pay me back for all the times I’ve carried you, of course.” Gyousou laughs, full and hearty, the way he did when Taiki made him a king.

And maybe it isn’t bad that he’s not big enough yet, not strong enough to carry his master through the sky. Because in the meantime, his master’s arms are no bad place to be.


drabbley-doos

bunny—chan:

(( Uwaaa, this was a new one! Surprised I haven’t written it before but now that I’ve had the chance… good, very good. ))

Kaede has never thought much beyond ‘thank goodness Dad is happy again’, when it comes to Kotetsu’s relationship with Barnaby.

Read More

sobs this is kind of the most beautiful??


UsaTora Morning

isakain:

So this was a request from Jennypen. It was delivered to Corinna and this is the whole thing. Enjoi Barnaby being a twat excellent lover.

Read More

ohhhh, that’s how it ends! If you gave me all of it, fucking tumblargh ate it.

*squirms*


Also for @OrigamiReversed: Edward/Ivan

(I’m not sure if it really qualifies as fluff, seeing as it’s not all that happy, but it’s certainly closer to fluff than to anything else. Actually, I just realized that this isn’t really Edward/Ivan so much as it is Edward and also Ivan. Woohoo, I managed to write something gen! Without trying! Hope this satisfies the “Ivan goes to visit Edward in prison for the first time since Episode 8” prompt!)

______________________________________________________________________

“So…how’s prison? No, that’s stupid, a stupid question, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I meant, how’s life in prison? No, that’s just as bad. I…it was nice to see you. I mean, not nice, not that anything that happened was nice, I just meant…I never thought I’d see you again, but I wanted to, but I knew you wouldn’t want to see me—and you probably still don’t. I should probably go. You’re—”

“Ivan.”

Ivan can’t help but flinch, even though Edward didn’t raise his voice. “Y-yeah?”

Edward looks up at him through the glass, and there’s pain that Ivan didn’t see during all the madness of their last meeting. “Could you stay? Just…talk to me?”

Ivan remembers signing the visitor’s log. It was the only entry under Prisoner 33861. Now that he’s actually sitting across from Edward, with permission to talk, there’s so much he wants to say. He wants to ask how Edward’s parents are; they’d always been kind to him during his Academy days. He wants to talk about his new friends, kind of secretly wants Edward to get jealous. He wants to be able to ask about Edward’s day, and not have the answer be something depressing like “worked out at the gym, fought a couple guys for an extra piece of toast, played the harmonica in my cell.” “What should I talk about?”

“Who’s winning Super Warrior this year?”

Ivan blinks. “You hate those contests. You said it looks fake.”

“Yeah, but you like them. I just…” Edward shrugs, trying to look unconcerned. “Forget it. Maybe this was a stupid idea.”

“It’s the Green Shadow,” Ivan blurts out. “You remember, the one with the—”

“—with the three-foot hair? That’s so fake! You could cut through it in a second with your shuriken.”

“I’ve been practicing,” Ivan admits. “Remember that four-step combo you helped me with? I got to do it on TV last year.”

“We get to see you sometimes. They like showing Hero TV in here during meals. Anyone who gets caught by the Heroes usually gets a lot of grief.”

For a second it doesn’t make any sense, and then Ivan remembers that Edward is a criminal, lives in prison with other criminals. Without his hair, Edward looks so much older, a lot more like his father. He wants to ask why the Keddys don’t return phone calls, why there aren’t more entries in the Visitor’s log, but Edward only looks happy when they’re talking about the past, about fantasy.

The guard taps the clock, and Ivan stands to leave. “Next week,” he promises, and Edward’s smile broadens, “I’ll bring you the schedule for AnimeStern this year.”

“I hate those conventions.”

“You’ll like this one,” Ivan says, a familiar promise that he’s applied to almost everything Edward sat through during Academy days.

Edward says something else, but the guard cuts the connection before Ivan can hear. That’s all right.

He’ll be back next week.


For @origamireversed: Yuri/Ivan Fluff

origamireversed:

daphnerunning:

Because I looked at the prompt and thought, “Well, that just can’t exist.

….

……..

CHALLENGE ACCEPTED.”

______________________________________________________________________

To be honest, Ivan thought Yuri would be disappointed. He thought Yuri might even be angry, or pinch the bridge of his nose like he had a headache, or when Tiger showed up. “I’m s-sorry,” he stammered, looking down at his shoes. “I didn’t m-mean to give you more paperwork. You’re already so busy, and I didn’t mean to cost the city money, and—”

Yuri pressed a finger to Ivan’s lips. “Helperides Finance will pay the bill. It isn’t as though you cost them much, after all.”

“But I damaged city property.” Ivan said it again, as if Yuri didn’t understand despite being the one who passed judgment on the case. “I carved up a pillar with my shuriken!”

“You were stopping a criminal. That’s what Heroes are supposed to do.” Yuri’s eyes flashed bright for a moment, almost NEXT-bright. 

Ivan started to argue again—he wasn’t a real Hero, just a photobomber, not like Sky High or Wild Tiger or a real Hero—but stopped. Yuri didn’t give empty compliments. In fact, he rarely gave compliments at all. And he saw Heroes every day, right? If anyone knew what a real Hero was, it would be the man who evaluated their actions for a living.

His sponsors were unhappy, the Museum curator was in a fit, and Blue Rose was put out that he’d taken “her” points. But there was a kidnapper behind bars today that had been free yesterday, and that wasn’t not because of Ivan.

“You really think so?”

Yuri raised one eyebrow, and Ivan flushed. “Of course. You make a decent Hero, when you put some effort into it.” He didn’t object when Ivan followed him, secure in the knowledge that it was his turn to pick a restaurant.

“You know,” Ivan said with a grin over greasy Chinese food, “I think you’d make a pretty good Hero too.”

((OH MY GOD I LOVE YOU ;O;

Heeeeeeee~<3 It’s just so perfect and guh. I looove them. *sobbing with happiness*

Thank you!!!))

Yay! I’m so glad you like it! I had no idea what to do, since canon interaction between them is basically just Yuri trying to kill Ivan’s best friend while Ivan derps in the middle.

I’ll probably write the Edward/Ivan one too, since I have no self-control and nothing better to do. You want anything specific about them?


For @origamireversed: Yuri/Ivan Fluff

Because I looked at the prompt and thought, “Well, that just can’t exist.

….

……..

CHALLENGE ACCEPTED.”

______________________________________________________________________

To be honest, Ivan thought Yuri would be disappointed. He thought Yuri might even be angry, or pinch the bridge of his nose like he had a headache, or when Tiger showed up. “I’m s-sorry,” he stammered, looking down at his shoes. “I didn’t m-mean to give you more paperwork. You’re already so busy, and I didn’t mean to cost the city money, and—”

Yuri pressed a finger to Ivan’s lips. “Helperides Finance will pay the bill. It isn’t as though you cost them much, after all.”

“But I damaged city property.” Ivan said it again, as if Yuri didn’t understand despite being the one who passed judgment on the case. “I carved up a pillar with my shuriken!”

“You were stopping a criminal. That’s what Heroes are supposed to do.” Yuri’s eyes flashed bright for a moment, almost NEXT-bright. 

Ivan started to argue again—he wasn’t a real Hero, just a photobomber, not like Sky High or Wild Tiger or a real Hero—but stopped. Yuri didn’t give empty compliments. In fact, he rarely gave compliments at all. And he saw Heroes every day, right? If anyone knew what a real Hero was, it would be the man who evaluated their actions for a living.

His sponsors were unhappy, the Museum curator was in a fit, and Blue Rose was put out that he’d taken “her” points. But there was a kidnapper behind bars today that had been free yesterday, and that wasn’t not because of Ivan.

“You really think so?”

Yuri raised one eyebrow, and Ivan flushed. “Of course. You make a decent Hero, when you put some effort into it.” He didn’t object when Ivan followed him, secure in the knowledge that it was his turn to pick a restaurant.

“You know,” Ivan said with a grin over greasy Chinese food, “I think you’d make a pretty good Hero too.”


notbisonsdivision asked: "Nathan/Toni fluffy sex. Or just fluff. I dun care what. 8D"

((OOH. YOU DIDN’T THINK I WAS GOING TO DO IT, DID YOU))

They’re out to dinner the first time someone asks the question. It’s been a good night, no calls from the station, no frantic texts from Nathan’s business manager, no crises of any kind. It’s just past payday, so Nathan relents when Antonio insists on picking up the check for once.

“Don’t get too grateful,” Antonio grunted out, glad his tan kept everyone from seeing the heat creeping up his neck. “I’m taking this out of your ass later.”

Nathan laughed, delighted, and clapped his hands. “Why, is it my birthday? My ‘Tonio, topping for a change?”

“Metaphorically! I meant it metaphorically!” Though Antonio can’t deny that having Nathan moaning and cursing, clenched tight around his cock, forgetting to make his voice all high-pitched and sing-song, does have a certain appeal.

“You guys are so cute.” Two girls at the next table have clearly been working up the courage to say something for the last ten minutes; Antonio owes Nathan five bucks later, since he bet the one in the pink jacket would speak up first. “How long have you been a couple?”

The answer is probably “since somewhere between the first grope and the first kiss, so between one month and five years,” but that’s confusing. Instead, Nathan just flutters his fingers and answers, “Never long enough, honey.”

Her friend, Orange Headband, looks between the burly Latin man and his muscular black lover. “So, who’s the girl?”

Pink Jacket squeals, “Carly!”

Antonio’s sure he’s blushing so hard everyone can see.

Nathan only laughs harder.


origami-o-matic asked: "Then... some Ivan/Pao-lin fluff?"

((chapter 3 of the Girl In Ivan’s Apartment series, which I totally need to rename because this doesn’t take place in Ivan’s apartment))

It wasn’t like Pao-Lin wanted to date Ivan or anything.

Sure, she had asked him out for ice cream, but that wasn’t a date. It didn’t matter if he said no to ice cream. Ice cream was just ice cream. It was cold and delicious and everyone loved ice cream. Friends could eat ice cream together just fine.

And he had said yes, so maybe she should have made it a date.

“When I was a kid,” she said, trying not to notice the way the ice cream was melting over Ivan’s fingers, “my folks used to take me to a park like this back home.”

“Yeah?” Ivan licked up the trickle of sweetness quickly, as if nervous someone was going to yell at him. “We didn’t have a lot of outdoor parks like this where I grew up. Too cold.”

“Do you go to this one a lot?”

“Not really. I mostly stay home.”

He came out here for me. Okay, I’m definitely going to ask him out next time. He might just might oh please say yes.

Next time, though.

This time, she finished her ice cream in three bites, then grabbed Ivan’s sticky hand. “Come on.”

“W-where are we going?”

“Merry go round. You’ve never been, and I haven’t been since I learned how to not short out the power.”

She loved the way his eyes lit up as the horses went up and down. That was so Ivan, to be excited by something small after a day where they’d caught four bank robbers. 

Next time, I’m totally going to ask him out. I’ll put on girl clothes and everything.

On the next round, she made sure they got the double-seat.