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jihyuncompass · 3 years

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A Little More Interesting

Welcome to Kinktober 2021! While this is my first time participating I’m very exited to give you some treats and spice to add to your Starbucks drink and Halloween candy. Now. Without any further ado, welcome to the first fic of the month.

Kinktober 2021. Week One

Marius x MC

Word Count: 4.3k

NSFW. Only read if 18+

Tags Below the Cut

Warnings/Tags: Collaring, Vaginal Fingering, Public/Semi-Public, Toys

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“I have a couple things for you,” Marius said after pulling into a parking spot. You glanced up from your phone, Marius’s eyes were on you. A glint in his eye that made it clear that he had something on his mind. Setting your phone aside, your attention went to him. Noticing your attention on him he smiled then reached for the bag in the backseat.

He handed the bag over to you, dropping it into your lap. After giving him another odd look you reached back into the bag to find it’s contents.

Marius’s gaze was locked on you as you pulled out what looked to be a jewelry box, too big for a ring but probably about the size of a necklace. Holding the box in your hand your gaze went back to Marius. His brow was arched, like he was waiting to see your reaction. Feeling around the box you started to pull up on the top.

“Wait.” Marius said, his hand resting on the top of the box. “Before you open it.” Your hands stopped, eyes returning to him. “We talked about this not too long ago, but if you don’t want it. You don’t have to accept it.”

His words only grew your curiosity, opening the jewelry box. Inside lay what a t first looked like a typical necklace. A simple silver chain with a ring in the center. Within the ring, a small purple gem. Simple, yet elegant. The realization didn’t hit until you lifted the piece out of the box, noticing the clasp on the end. Two small rings connected by what looked to be a small lock.

“You don’t have to wear it.” Marius said. Any previous show of confidence had fallen away. “If you don’t want to or you feel you’re not ready.”

Holding it in your hands you considered it, knowing Marius it was likely custom made. Designed for you specifically by him. You could just imagine Marius, choosing the details on the silver chain, picking the perfect gem to match the color of his eyes. The lock on the clasp, small but by looks of it rather strong.

“You have the key for it?” You asked him. Seemingly stunned by your sudden question Marius nodded quickly but took an extra second to find his voice.

“I do.” Marius reached under his shirt, pulling out a similar silver chain to the one in your hand. At the end, a small silver key.

You didn’t require much more time to consider it. Taking another moment to admire it, you handed it to Marius. Who was watching you intently.

“You’re sure you’re okay with this?” He asked.

“Yes.” You said, putting on a smile to show your honesty. “I trust you Marius, and I want this.”

Marius took the key around his neck and quickly unlocked the tiny lock at the clasp. Adjusting in the seat you let your back face him. Moments later his hands put the subtle collar around your neck. Closing your eyes you focused in on the feeling of the lock clicking closed. The light but present pressure where the collar rested against your neck. Marius’s hands rested on your shoulders. Urging you to turn.

“Well?” You asked him after you turned. At first he went speechless, ears turning red and voice lost. Then after a moment, when he’d been able to fully take you in, his expression shifted. His eyes narrowed and darkend, his lips pulled into a smirk. Playful yet mischievous.

His fingers trailed from your shoulder to your neck, his fingers running over the silver chain. Leaning close to whisper. “It’s perfect.” His hand stopped at your jawline, pulling you into a kiss, his warm lips taking your’s, sending a warm feeling down into your abdomen. Breaking away from the kiss he leaned in, whispering against the shell of your ear. “It’s also the perfect reminder. That you’re mine.”

“I am yours.” You whispered back, holding his face in your hands. “Always will be.”

Marius smiled, his gaze full of warmth and adoration as he looked at you. Letting himself watch you for a moment longer he pulled away just the slightest bit.

“There’s one more thing in the bag.” He said, motioning to the bag still resting in your lap. Letting your hands drop from his face you reached in for the second item, a larger box than the last one.

Your mouth parted in a brief shock. Your face instantly flushed bright red.

“These events are always so boring.” Marius said. “I thought this might make it a little more interesting.”

Interesting was one word for it you thought as you held the box for a remote controlled vibrator. You’d seen these online and in other things but never in person, you turned the box over in your hands. The flush on your face was growing worse by the moment.

“Well?” Marius asked.

“You really think this is a good idea?” You questioned.

Marius smirked. “Thought it could make the night a little more interesting, that’s all.” Marius winked, looking away from him you looked at the box in your hand. The idea seemed outrageous, it wasn’t appropriate and it could cause trouble for the both of you.

But also, you couldn’t ignore the heat growing in your lower abdomen, and the excitement sparking through your nerves. Considering the box you pulled out the device, thumb brushing over the soft silicone outside.

Marius leaned in, the smirk briefly disappearing from his face. “We don’t have to.” Glancing between Marius and the toy you weighed your options.

“We can use our safe word?” You asked.

“Of course.” Marius responded in complete seriousness. “Still paintbrush, right?” You nodded.

Taking a breath of courage you fully removed the toy from its packaging, turning it around in your hand to get a feel for it. “Did you happen to bring any lube with you?”

“Dammit.” Marius cursed. “I knew I forgot something.” He ran a hand through his carefully styled hair, messing up some of the strands. He hastily glanced around the car, hoping maybe he could find something suitable.

“It’s okay.” You said, stopping his frantic search. “I can just do it the traditional way.”

“Traditional way?” Marius asked. Before you answered you’d set the toy on the console, your hand reaching between your legs, pushing aside your clothes to get where you wanted to be. “Oh.” Marius said. “That way.”

You smirked to yourself as your finger ran against your slit, already growing wet from just your thoughts alone. Your finger circled your clit, forcing you to take a sharp breath in, your finger rubbed on the sensitive nub quickly growing swollen by the sensation.

As your fingers moved downwards, towards your core already beginning to ache you felt Marius’s eyes on you. Throwing him a glance you happily took in his flustered face while he watched you,

“What’s that look for?” You cooed. “Do you want to help?”

He cleared his throat, then nodded. Trying to keep his cool as he shifted his position. You pulled your own hand away as his hand traveled down your thigh to your core. Leaning back in the seat you readjusted your hips to get a better angle for him.

Your eyes slipped closed as his fingers ran over your slit, collecting the wetness as he moved. Biting your lip you attempted to savor the feeling as he started down towards your entrance. Careful to use the fingers without a copious amount of rings he let one finger slip in, then a second not long after.

Marius wasted no time, his fingers already pumping in and out of you as his thumb made quick circles around your clit. You didn’t hesitate to let moans fall past your lips, each sound only making Marius go faster.

“Marius-” You said, forcing the name past your lips.

“Hm?” Marius answered.

“I think-” You paused to let another wave of pleasure pass. “I think I’m ready for it.” Marius slowed his hand, letting you reach for the toy you left on the console.

He took the toy from you, using his other hand to angle it while his other hand pulled out of you. Using the remaining arousal coating his fingers to smear it on the tip. He looked back to your face, checking your expression.

You nodded at him, giving him the confirmation he needed for him to push the toy past your folds and inside you. Swallowing thickly you groaned from the pleasant stretch, taking some moments to adjust to the new feeling.

“How’s that?” Marius asked, hand resting on your upper thigh.

“It’s good.” You readjusted your clothing, sitting up straight. Heavily aware of the toy now fully inside you as you sat in the seat of the car. Looking in the mirror you fixed your hair and straightened out your clothes.

Marius put the vibrator box back into the bag, tossing it back into the backseat. Straightening himself out as you did. The two of you took a moment to collect yourselves before exchanging a glance.

“Ready to go in?” Marius asked.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Tonight’s event wasn’t anything special. Especially not in comparison to some of the other events you’d attended with Marius in the past. As always the drinks were overflowing and the food while of good quality not bountiful in quantity. Following your partner you made the rounds to the copious amounts of well dressed business associates Marius knew.

“Oh my that’s such a beautiful choker you’re wearing.” One woman said to you, motioning to the accessory on your neck. In the corner of your eye you noticed how Marius smirked to you. “Where’d you get it?”

You were about to speak when Marius spoke first. “It’s custom made.” He explained, focused on the woman speaking you missed Marius’s hand slipping into his pocket.

“Well it’s absolutely beautiful.” She said to you, then turned to Marius. “I must get the name of your jeweler.”

The sudden jolt of the toy nearly made you gasp, clearing your throat to avoid making any other sounds. Inside you the toy vibrated aggressively against your walls. Shooting Marius a look, you cleared your throat again.

“I’m sorry I think I need a drink.” You apologized. “Please excuse me.” Stepping away from the conversation you bit your lip, the vibrations grew slowly in intensity as you walked towards one of the servers carrying a tray of glasses of wine.

While you walked back towards Marius the vibrations slowed to a stop. Marius’s hand leaving his pocket to shake someone’s hand. Breathing a sigh of relief you rejoined him, although the mischievous glint in his eye remained.

“Doing okay? You look a little red.” Marius teased after the others had walked away. Pressing your lips into a thin line you ignored him, even as he took your hand in his, and his other hand slipped back into his pocket.

You braced yourself, waiting for him to start the vibrator again. However he just winked at you, leading you towards another small gathering of people. Putting on his business smile as he approached.

These conversations were usually nothing you found particularly interesting, this one included. You listened as Marius talked about business with one of the older men. Discussing PAX’s latest ventures and asking about one another’s families. You sipped at your wine while they spoke. Usually being just the littlest bit tipsy during times like this made the small talk bearable to get through.

“And what about you?” The man Marius had been speaking to asked you. “What do you do for work?”

“Oh I’m-” Your sentence was cut off by the return of the vibrations. You collected yourself after a moment, pushing through the increasing setting of the toy.

“Are you feeling alright?” The man asked. “You look a bit overheated.”

“I’m fine. Thank you.” You said, digging your nails into your hand to keep your composure. “It’s a bit warm. That’s all.”

You carried on with your conversation, fighting the pleasure very quickly spreading through your boy as you talked. Marius was enjoying this, that you could easily tell. His expression showed how obviously he was undressing you with his eyes, and between the toy inside you and the pressure of the collar around your neck you were starting to find it difficult to keep your composure.

The night continued this way, with Marius routinely turning the toy on and off as he pleased. With each cycle of it making it harder and harder for you to keep control of yourself. You already could tell your face was red, your knees getting shaky from how he’d started to get you close before turning it off again.

After a while you’d convinced Marius to sit down with you at one of the tables in the venue. Marius held your hand as you watched others flutter around one another in conversation. All the same typical business chatter, what everyone was doing, new business plans or partnerships, maybe a mention of a spouse or children.

“Do you want more to drink?” Marius asked, motioning to one of the servers. “I could get you another glass.”

You shook your head, you’d already drunk enough to be pleasantly buzzed, but considering your current state and the way Marius was still looking at you, getting any more intoxicated would probably be a bad move.

“I didn’t expect to see you both here.” A voice said from beside you. Turning your head, your mouth fell open as Artem walked up to the two of you.

“Oh hey.” Marius said. His tone gave away a slight annoyance. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I had a client invite me along. Figured I’d accept the offer.” Artem said. He smiled at you softly. “It’s good to see you. I hope you’re enjoying yourself?”

You matched his smile. “I am. Are you?” You asked. Artem pulled up a chair to sit next to you, your eyes on him instead of Marius you didn’t think much about the way he was looking at the two of you.

“I’m usually not one for events like this, but it’s been pretty nice so far.” Artem said, nursing a glass of wine in his hand. You nodded thoughtfully.

“I’m not really a huge fan of these either. The food and drinks definitely make up for it though.” You said.

“Based on what I’ve had here, I think I’m inclined to agree with you.”

You were about to speak further when your voice was caught in your throat. Marius had

turned the toy on again. This time at a higher speed than he had ever set before. Pressing your lips together in a fine line you attempted to breathe through the waves of pleasure pulsing through your body. If you looked uncomfortable at least Artem didn’t seem to notice as he carried on with the conversation.

“How long are you both planning on staying?” Artem asked, sipping on his wine.

“I’m not sure.” You said, crossing your legs to try and keep the intensity controlled the best you can. “How long are you staying?”

“Not for long I hope.” Artem said. “I have some work I want to work on tonight.” You nodded, your nails digging into your knee as Marius turned up the vibrations again. Biting your cheek as you fought back the sounds you wanted to make, keeping yourself as still as possible so your knees didn’t shake.

“Y-yeah.” You agreed, voice cracking. “Especially with that case we just got.” You said, having to force yourself to say every word while the intense pressure in your abdomen grew bigger and bigger, heart beating faster, and face getting more hot by the word. “I did look at the case files earlier but-” You took a breath to catch yourself. “I didn’t get a chance to spend much time with it.”

Artem set his wine glass on the table. “If you’d like we could meet and go over the details of the case. There is a lot to keep track of.”

“Oh that would be great-” The sudden increase in the speed of the toy made you stop, covering your face with your hand. Feigning a coughing fit to distract from how your whole body was shaking and how it was becoming impossible to keep yourself together anymore. You were getting so close, so close so-

“Do you need something to drink?” Artem asked, leaning close to try and see your face, you coughed harder to keep your face hidden, nodding frantically.

Just as Artem stepped away to find something for you to drink you shot Marius a look, he was smirking clearly proud of himself and the mess he was making you.

“Awful coughing fit you’re having there.” Marius teased.

You squeezed his thigh. “Paintbrush.” You said. Within a second the toy was off, and Marius took his hand out of his pocket. His smirk disappeared, replaced with concern.

“Are you okay?” He asked, moving closer.

You nodded after a second. Marius rubbing your back. “It was just too much right now.” You whispered. Marius nodded, understanding. “Thank you for stopping.”

“Of course.” Marius said. Artem returned, a glass of water in his hand. Quickly handing it off to you. After several long sips you set the glass down, giving yourself time to collect yourself.

“Better?” Artem asked, concern written all over his face.

“Yes, much better.” You answered, sitting up straight. “Thank you.” You sipped at the water, feeling the flush in your face going down. Marius’s hand remained on the small of your back, his thumb rubbing small circles.

After finishing the glass Artem brought you glanced back at Marius. He’d been watching the rest of the party but quickly turned back towards you.

“Are you wanting to go?” Marius asked you, voice low and soft.

“I think so.” You said, finally gaining your strength back. “Besides, we have something to do.” You smirked at him, his face completely changing as he realized what you were thinking.

“Oh that’s right.” He said. “We did have something to do.”

You both rose from your seats, even with the toy off your legs were still shaking, your whole body struggling to keep upright. “I’m sorry to leave just after running into you.” You said to Artem.

“It’s alright, I’ll probably leave soon myself.” Artem stood to match you both. “Get home safe. Both of you.”

After saying a proper goodbye, you both hurried out of the venue. Holding tight to Marius’s hand as you hurried back to the parking lot.

The second Marius’s car came into view you headed straight for the backseat, hastily opening the door and pulling Marius inside with you.

“What-” You cut Marius off by kissing him. Pushing him against the seats as you moved to straddle his hips. His hands went immediately to rest on your hips, pulling you closer, Your hands held his jaw. Forcing him to stay close.

You only pulled away when you needed to breathe, Marius staring at you a bit stunned.

“You’re eager.” He said, finding his voice. You frowned, leaning in close.

“And who’s fault is that?” You shot back, kissing him again. Your lips moved against his, pulling him in further and deeper. Marius’s hands moved downwards until he was holding your ass, digging his fingers in as you groaned.

Breaking away from his lips you moved to press kisses along his jawline and his neck. Seeking that sweet spot you knew he liked you to pay attention to. As you did so your hands moved to his waist, searching for his pocket where he kept his phone.

“Mmn..” Marius moaned as you found the sweet spot, although not unaware of your hand as if reached into his pocket. “Whatcha looking for babe?” He asked, pulling your head away from his neck.

“You know what I’m looking for Marius.” You went back to reaching into his pocket until Marius’s hand around your wrist stopped you. His mischievous look returned, sending a twinge of excitement straight to your core.

“You want more?” He whispered into your ear.

“Yes.” Marius’s fingers traveled towards your neck, fingers brushing against the collar still locked tightly around your neck. “Please Marius.” You asked.

Marius hummed, pulling his phone from his pocket. “I’ll turn it on. But.” He started. “We’re doing this my way.”

Before you could even answer Marius pulled you off of him, readjusting so his back was against the car door, legs laying across the seats.

“Come here baby.” Marius said, leading for you to lay with your back against his front. You gave him a strange look over your shoulder while you laid against him. His arm around your waist to keep you in place.

You watched as Marius opened the app he’d been using before. Waiting not-so patiently as he slowly started to turn it back up again.

A loud sigh of relief escaped you as the vibrator started, watching as Marius slowly turned it up.

“Faster.” You whispered. “Please make it go faster.” Marius shook his head as pressed a kiss to your temple. Savoring every moment as you whined against him. “Marius, please.”

After another long agonizing moment Marius obliged, turning up the intensity just the smallest amount. Enough for the sensations to be pleasant, but not enough to satisfy you. You needed more than that.

“You’re so pretty like this.” Marius said. “All bothered and begging.” The hand around your waist moved up, cupping your breast. You groaned, head falling back against his shoulder. Closing your eyes you press your legs together, hoping to maybe get more sensation than the cruelly low setting Marius had the toy at.

Marius used the hand with his phone to part your legs. “Let’s not do that, remember I’m the one in charge right now.” You whined, your eyes squeezed shut, you were going to go crazy like this.

“Please turn it up more. Please.” You begged. “Please.”

Marius considered you for a moment, your face was getting flushed already, you looked so perfect like this, like putty in his hands. If he really wanted to he could keep you like this for hours, but you also looked so beautiful, and he struggled to refuse you.

He turned up the speed, leaving you gasping. It was high enough now that you couldn’t stop the moans from leaving your lips. Your hips ground down against Marius below you, seeking something, anything more to make you feel good. Behind you Marius groaned, turning up the toy even higher without another thought.

“Marius oh god-” You cried out. “It’s- ugh-” The waves of pleasure were getting more intense, rising in pressure as you felt it start to swell in your abdomen. You weren’t going to last, you were so close. Just a little bit more is all you would need.

“Are you close?” Marius asked.

“Y-yes!” You said, your hand gripping his wrist so tightly you thought you might break it. “Please I’m so close I’m-”

You cried out loudly as Marius turned down the vibrator, returning to a setting just barely enough to feel.

“Why?” You asked. “Marius-”

“You’re mine right?” He said. His hand moved from your breast to your neck, fingers tracing the bottom of your collar.

“Marius.” You looked at him over your shoulder. He stared into your eyes, he looked like he was seeking something in you. Something that you’d only seen when he needed your reassurance. “Of course I’m yours. I’m only yours.”

“Good.”He whispered. Marius kissed you, pulling you closer against him. With your eyes closed you were hardly focused on anything as with his one hand Marius turned the vibrator up again. You gasped into the kiss, pulling away a moment later to moan and looking back at his phone. Slowly he was turning it up, approaching the level it’d been at during the party. The point where you hadn’t been able to keep yourself collected anymore.

Now you didn’t hesitate to moan. You couldn’t even care if people could hear you outside this car, right now you just needed to feel good. That’s it.

Your eyes closed as you focused on the feeling, the white hot pressure that was at its breaking point inside you. Just a little more, just another moment, just another-

One last boost in the speed was all it took. You screamed in pure pleasure as your back arched, your entire body tensing as the pleasure exploded inside you. Your body shook, eyes shut and voice going hoarse from how loudly you’d cried.

Marius turned the vibrator off a final time as you slumped against him, chest heaving as you caught your breath. A layer of sweat coating your skin, as your hands shook. Your eyes stayed closed, even while Marius pulled aside your clothes to remove the toy, covered in your slick. He smiled at the sight. Your eyes opened just enough to see it, before shutting again.

Setting the toy aside Marius wrapped his arms around you, kissing your neck and jaw. “You did so good, baby. I love you.” Marius whispered. You smiled, too exhausted to say anything.

You laid there like that for a long while, Marius pressing kisses wherever he could reach, your eyes closed while you gathered your strength again.

“Let’s go home.” You said. “I think you deserve a little something tonight too.”

Marius smiled. “Are you sure? I bet you’re exhausted.”

“I’m sure.” You said, sitting up fully. Marius sat up with you, looking at you with those adoring eyes you were completely obsessed with.

Marius’s hand brushed against the collar on your neck. “Do you want to keep this on? I can take it off if you want?”

You shook your head. Taking his hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it. “No, I like it. I want to keep it on.”

Happily, Marius accepted your answer. Helping you out of the back and into the passenger seat. Ready to go home for the rest of the night.

#tears of themis #tot #mihoyo #marius von hagen #lu jinghe #marius x reader #lu jinghe x reader #do not read if a minor #this one isn't my favorite marius fic ive done but #i had a deadline to meet #i know i said it'll be up later #but i got to class early and could do some quick formatting before class started

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insomniamamma · 3 years

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Liminal: Ezra and Cee

A/N: Contemporary AU in which Ezra becomes his niece, Cee's caretaker after an automobile accident kills his brother, Damon, and costs him his arm. Same AU as "Ferris wheels are for old people." No reader insert character, just Ezra and Cee on the road. Written for @autumnleaves1991-blog ‘s Writer’s Wednesday.

Warnings: Mentions of past trauma/injury. Drug references in a song. Some language. I tried to research body powered transhumeral prosthetics to get some idea of how Ezra's prosthetic arm might work, but then I fell into an overthinking morass, any inaccuracies are mine.

"Willin'" is written by Lowell George. The version referenced in the story is recorded by Linda Ronstadt.

lim·i·nal /ˈlimənl/

adjective: liminal

1.relating to a transitional or initial stage of a process. 2.occupying a position at, or on both sides of, a boundary or threshold.

--"Willin'"--

"’... been warped by the rain, driven by the snow,’" Cee sings along with the music rattling through the truck's speakers, "I'm drunk and dirty, don't you know. But I'm still willin'..."

The road stretches long and straight in front of them, harsh, rust-colored land dotted with scrub under the arc of an impossibly blue sky. Ezra asked Cee to compile the playlist. You are my co-pilot for this mission, he'd told her, and as such your duties include, but are not limited to, navigator, snack supervisor and DJ. DJ? Really? Make us a playlist, Little Bird, every adventure needs some good road music. And she had really delivered. "’...Out on the road late last night, I'd see my pretty Alice in every headlight, Alice, Dallas Alice...’" Ezra'd expected hours of auto-tuned pop or loud screamy music where he couldn't understand the words, and while there was some of that, Cee had taken her duties as DJ very seriously, creating a huge genre-bending list that all worked together.

He knew a lot of it. When he was still weird Uncle Ezra and not Legal Guardian Ezra, Cee made a habit of pawing through his vinyl collection when she and Damon would visit, picking a record to play and then peppering him with questions about it. Still, some of the tracks she picked surprised him, like this one, Linda Ronstadt's version of "Willin'" a road trip anthem if there ever was one, but something he didn't expect Cee to be familiar with. On their first go through the playlist, he'd asked her, where'd you hear this one, Birdie? You remember that movie, The Abyss? It's in that movie, the director's cut though, not the theatrical cut, the theatrical cut is bullshit--and he'd just listened to her go off about all the things wrong with the theatrical cut, the movie itself he barely remembered, something about divers finding aliens underwater, he'd listened and grinned, Cee could go so quiet sometimes. It was always a relief to hear her sound alive and interested, especially after-- "’And I've been from Tucson to Tucumcari," Cee sings and Ezra joins her, "Tehachapi to Tonopah...’" Cee's voice is sweet. Ezra's voice is not, but that's never stopped him. They've got the windows down. The AC started smelling funny a couple days ago, and, in this part of the world, a breeze to evaporate the sweat is just as good as AC. Cee's hair makes a flyaway halo as they sing-- "’Driven every kind of rig that's ever been made, Driven the backroads so I wouldn't get weighed. And if you give me...’" Ezra and Cee smile at each other, suck in deep breaths for the big chorus, "’...Weed, whites and wine, and you show me a sign...And I'll be willin' to be movin'"

--Petroglyph--

The rust colored forms on pale stone walls peer out at them. Some loom large in the foreground, others recede into the background as if the weathered rock is a portal a window into some other place that lives just below the skin of the world. The back of Ezra's neck prickles. Sometimes the world is thin. Sometimes he feels as if there is a larger world moving and shifting beneath the surface of this one. Sometimes he feels like things are happening out of order, reality stripping and skipping like a loose bicycle chain-- Cee's warm hand creeps into his, "They're a little scary, aren't they?" She says. "Indeed they are," says Ezra, "One has to wonder what they were thinking. What they were trying to say. Are these gods in these pictures? Or just regular men?" "Does it matter?" Asks Cee, and he jerks his head to look at her. She is utterly entranced by the red figures and sigils. "Of course it does," he says, "You don't think so?" "I mean, it matters, I guess, but what matters more is that people made these," she says, "People like us. People with hands. Not that Ancient Aliens bullshit." Ezra laughs. Cee squeezes his hand. "C'mon," she says, "let's see more."

--Rest Stop--

"Hey MOM!," a child's voice snaps Ezra out of his reverie. Cee is in the truck stop, using the restroom and restocking their snack supply. At these stops he fuels up and then gives her some cash and sets her loose inside. And then they stretch their legs and sit outside for a spell. Ezra sits at a picnic bench letting the sun hit his closed eyelids, "MOM! That guy's got a ROBOT ARM! Like WINTER SOLDIER!" Ezra opens his eyes to a little boy, maybe four with a bunch of curly hair and big eyes, pointing at him. "Daniel!" His mother hisses, and pinches at his arm, "That's rude. I'm so sorry. Danny, what did I tell you about staring--" "Ma'am? It's quite alright, Ma'am," says Ezra, and hunkers down so he's eye level with the little boy. "Hi there," he says, "Daniel, is it? I'm Ezra." He offers his right arm, the double hook at the end open, titanium alloy padded with silicone. Daniel solemnly grips the hooks and shakes. "You've got stickers!" Says Daniel, and for a second Ezra is confused, and then he grins, looking down at the bedecked black plastic of his prosthesis. He stands. "My girl decided that I must have a sticker for every state we stop in," says Ezra, he stands and smiles at Daniel's mom, "Like an old steamer trunk. I'm afraid I didn't catch your name--" Cee steps out of the air-conditioned cavern of the truck stop, slits her eyes against the brightness of midday sun glittering up from the concrete, plastic bags full of crap-snacks and energy drinks threaded over her arms. Ezra handed her a couple twenties and told her to go nuts. Re-supply runs have turned into their own sort of game. She always grabs the usual stuff, chips and Snickers bars and Paydays (Ezra has an absolute weakness for Paydays. They don't taste like they used to, he'd griped, but that didn't stop him from eating them), but somewhere along the line, Cee decided to turn this into a battle of the wills. Her unspoken mission is to find something so utterly weird at one of these stops that Ezra won't eat it. So far, she has been unsuccessful. The closest thing was an aloe juice and cucumber drink that smelled amazing, but felt like swallowing cold snot. That one was a draw. She has high hopes for the dill pickle-sriracha gummy worms nestled in the bottom of the bag. The packaging looked like Christmas in hell. More important than the snacks is the plain, flat paper bag she holds. Ezra's near the picnic benches chattering at some lady with a kid. Menace, she thinks, but smiles. Ezra was always the extrovert before, and it's good to him smiling so big and open in the sunshine, making friends with random people at a truck stop. She sees an echo of her and him before, when she and Dad would visit when she was small and he'd tell her some outrageous tale and she'd say Uncle Ezra, you're so weird, and he'd scoop her up and swing her around, planting a prickly kiss on her cheek and saying oh, little bird, you have no idea, and this always made Dad laugh.

"Oh, Ez-ra," Cee calls, and when he turns, he sees her devilish grin, holding a small brown paper bag up beside her face like it's contraband, "Look what I found." "So I get to witness the sacred stickering?" Asks Ezra's new friend. "Indeed you do," says Ezra, "This is Cee. Cee, meet Jody, and that little man playing in the dirt there is Daniel." "Nice to meet you," says Cee, "Stick your arm out, old man." "Don't you want to document this momentous occasion?" "Oh, right," Cee pulls out her phone, "Hey, uh, miss Jody? Can you take some video? I got it all set up." "Cee is documenting our adventures for posterity," says Ezra. He extends his prosthetic, already covered in overlapping ovoids, enough that they are starting to resemble dragon scales, "What do you think?" Cee and Daniel circle round. "How bout here?" asks Daniel, tapping just above the articulated elbow. "That's a good spot," says Cee and peels the sticker from it's backing with a flourish. She smiles up at her phone recording in a stranger's hand, "We have now infiltrated the state of Nevada," she grins, "Evil-doers beware." "Yeah!" Says the little boy, pudgy hands planted on his hips for the benefit of the camera, "Or Winter Soldier will KICK YOUR ASS!" "Daniel!"

--Stars--

Cee wakes in the dead of night, disoriented, a darkness so thick that for a moment she's not sure where she is, and then she hears Ezra's rhythmic snoring off to her side, reaches out and brushes fabric of the tent and lays back, puzzled, muscles pleasantly sore from a day spent scrabbling up and down eroded granite boulders that looked like they belonged on Mars or Tatooine, walking trails and marveling at the strange ecology of the high-desert, so unlike back home. Bad dream? She wonders, probably. She feels her eyes getting heavy, feels herself lulled by Ezra's sleep sounds, snores punctuated by mumbles. Sometimes full sentences, his side of whatever dream-conversation he's having. Probably has no idea he does it-- Cee sits bolt upright, hands clutched in fists against her chest, a high-pitched wail cuts the cold night, a sound like a woman screaming, and another wail threads through the first, so loud it could be right outside the tent, and then a sound like gruesome laughter. The back of her neck prickles and her heart pounds in her throat. She tells herself that it's just some wild animal making noise, some desert bird maybe, but wasn't the California desert the last known home of the Manson family? Maybe not this desert, but still-- "Ezra," she hisses, and he mumbles something incoherent, "Ezra, wake up!" She reaches and pokes him hard, "Ezra!" "Whazzit birdie?" "Listen!" The screams rise and fall again like something from a horror movie. "s'just coyotes," says Ezra, "probly next county over. They don't hurt people, they're just loud." "You sure?" "Go back to sleep, Cee."

"Ezra," He's dreaming, some place with Joshua trees the size of skyscrapers, spiked limbs under a red sky. Cee's with him somewhere in the bloodlight but he can't see her, just hears her calling-- "Ezra!" He blinks awake, the red sky receding. Cee is shaking him. "Yuh. M'awake birdie," "I gotta pee," she says. "You know where the outhouses are, just right down the trail," "I'm not going by myself! Not with those things out there!" Ezra pushes himself up and shakes his head, blinking the sleep from his eyes. He can just make out Cee's form against the faint light of the sky leaking through the tent. "Alright, just gimme a second," he says. "I'll get the light," "We don't need it," he says. "Ez-" "We got night eyes now," he says, "No light pollution out here. You'll see."

Ezra stands transfixed in the chill dark, head cocked upward. The more he looks, the more he can see. More stars than he's ever seen in his life spread across the vast inverted bowl of the sky, no summer haze out here, no light-wash from streetlights. He is dizzy with it, the vast sweep of the sky, and as he stares and his eyes adjust further, he can see the arm of the Milky Way angled across the black, can actually see the dark band of dust threaded through the silver-blue light. He doesn't hear the outhouse door shutting, doesn't notice Cee beside him until she folds his hand into hers. "Look up, Little Bird," he breathes and it feels like a prayer, his heart suddenly full, squeezing in his chest, Cee small and warm next to him. "Oh, wow," she says, barely a whisper, "That's the Milky Way isn't it?" Tears blur the stars and fall hot against his cheeks. "It is." He looks at her, her face upturned, cheeks and hair frosted in star shine, limning her eyes, her smile. They've lost so much, him and Cee, but they've gained each other, and that's not nothing is it? "We're so small," says Cee, "Us. People. This whole planet. All of us. We're just a little dot." Ezra smiles in the dark, even as tears dry in his lashes. He squeezes her fingers in his. "C'mon, let's get back in the tent before we freeze."

--Hoodoo--

Cee sleeps in the passenger's seat. She'd helped break camp and pack everything up even though it was early for her. They had spent an extra night in Joshua Tree and now had to make up the difference. It's time to go home. There are things he wants to do before Cee goes back to school, things they need to take care of. So he woke them early, promising Cee that she could sleep in the car as long as she needed. She'd helped him get ready, half-peeling a couple candy bars and putting them were he could easily reach. "You want the playlist?" She asked, "I can get it going." "Not right now. I want some quiet." “'Kay," and Cee was asleep before they were to the next mile marker.

Hoodoos rise on either side of the highway, striated red cliffs against the slowly lightening sky, cut into improbable formations by long gone rivers, thin spires topped with boulders, first glints of sun hitting the higher cliffs while everything else still exists in that liminal space between day and night. Ezra glances over at Cee, hair in a messy halo, face slack in sleep, cheeks sun-reddened and newly freckled, closed eyes moving, dreaming. Ezra thinks of those first days, wracked with pain and trying to navigate the new, dark-shrowded territory of her and him, each of them crippled by loss, each willing to lash out at the other. Ezra thinks of how far they've come since then, uncurling like relaxing fists and learning to be with each other. They drive into the dawn and the first bit of light touches her hair, turning it to fire. She shifts in her sleep, turning away from that first hint of sun. He doesn't know if she's awake or not. "I love you, Cee." "Love you to, Ez," she murmurs and settles back into sleep. Ezra looks out over hoodoo country spread red tinged and stark against the rising light, the miles of road ahead. We're gonna be ok, he thinks and means it.

#writer wednesday #ezra prospect #cee prospect #contemporary AU #ezra and cee

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basura2319 · 4 years

Text

Nervous wreck

Pairing: wrecker x fem!reader

Requested by: anonymous

Anonymous:

“Can we get a Wrecker x reader one shot where wrecker really likes the reader and wants to be with her, but he thinks that she won’t like him because he is too big and rough? But it turns out that the reader loves wrecker since the day she met him? I would like this to be extra fluffy”

Warnings: none

WC: 2k

A/N: A huge thanks to @chaotic-noceur for beta-reading my fic and for coming up with this funny yet brilliant title.

“Wrecker? Wrecker!"

Wrecker felt Crosshair smack him on the back of his head.

“Wha-what?” he said startled, rubbing the area where his brother hit him.

Crosshair's eyes trailed to whatever was putting Wrecker in such a stupor and of course, it was you, the teams' Republic "supervisor." You reported to the Republic missions you tagged along with the Bad Batch, and you briefed them on missions the Republic ordered for you all to carry out.

“Quit gawking at (Y/N) and help me put these supplies back onto the ship,” he griped, lifting the crate of this month's supply of rations, medical equipment, and restock of weapons.

Wrecker blushed. “I wasn’t starin’ at her…”

“Sure you weren’t,” Crosshair taunted, before going up the ramp. Soon Wrecker followed him while carrying two crates.

Wrecker went back outside the ship and his eyes landed on you once more. You were carrying—more like struggling, to take the last remaining boxes.

“Let me help you with that.” He reached out to take one of the crates from your arms.

You smiled warmly at him, punching his arm lightly. “Show off.”

Wrecker tilted his head slightly away from you to hide the creeping blush on his face.

“Thank you as always,” you said kindly, following him on board. Wrecker’s blush grew even more at that.

After getting all the supplies gathered, they took off with no real direction to head to.

“So,” Hunter turned the pilot’s chair towards you. “Anything assigned to us?”

You shook your head. “No, I’ve received nothing as of now.”

“Great,” smirked Hunter, leaning back on the chair as tossing his knife. “More time for us.”

“Yeah…” you bit your lip in worry. “But don’t get too comfortable.”

“Tech, I’m starving,” drawled Crosshair from where he sat. “Go check what’s in the crates.”

“Why don’t you go get it,” Tech said without looking up from what was doing.

Crosshair flicked the toothpick he plucked from his mouth at his brother. “You’re closer,” he said smugly.

Wrecker caught you chuckling at their banter and the sound of your laughter caused his stomach to stir.

Tech shot him a slightly annoyed look before abandoning the piece of hardware he was working on. He opened the crate to look at the contents inside, but his expression showed disappointment and you all knew why as he pulled out a pack of plain, army-issued rations packs.

“Here,” Tech tossed the pack at him.

Crosshair groaned. “I’m tired of this. Is there seriously nothin’ else?”

“Let’s see, uh, we have dried meat, protein bars, Jogan fruit—”

“Gimme one of those.”

“Skrag,” you lamented at watching the morsels the Republic brought you all to consume. “I wish we could’ve stopped somewhere to eat real food.”

Wrecker, you hadn’t noticed, extended his hand to give you one of the packs along with a protein bar.

“Uh here,” he said awkwardly. His skin prickled when your fingers brushed over his momentarily.

“Thank you Wrecker,” you said with a small smile.

He felt himself smile, up until he saw his brothers staring at him with knowing looks on their faces. He frowned, grunting lowly at them.

The three of his brothers had watched him fall for you from the moment you joined the team. What they never understood was why he never attempted to make a move on you. You seemed to like him, like being around his presence. He’s the one who got you to laugh the most and the one you frequented to when you wanted to spar. Yet Wrecker knew himself. He knew he was rough, not a person people liked making conversation with. His height and bulkiness intimidated people which in turn, all those qualities made him self conscious, but he was good at appearing like those things never bothered him. His flaws convinced himself that he had no chance of being with a pretty, kind-hearted, yet fierce person like you.

It was nearing the time for all of you to rest although traveling in space made it hard to tell when it was day or night. One person, as always, had to stay up to watch and navigate the ship, but today was Hunter’s turn to do it. Just before Wrecker could go join his brothers in their bunks, Hunter stopped him.

“Listen, Wrecker,” he said to him in a low tone. “You gotta tell her how you feel. There’s no point in agonizing over it.”

Wrecker looked away. “She’s just a friend Sarge. Our teammate,” he muttered angrily.

Hunter raised a brow at him. “Well, when the war ends and she has to depart from the team without you telling her, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He thumped Wrecker on the back before heading towards the cockpit.

As Wrecker laid there on his bunk, listening to the snores of Crosshair and Tech, his mind drifted to Hunter’s words. What would happen when you’d eventually leave the team?

You’d probably find and end up with someone that’s not him; someone better than him. All because he was too scared to confess how you made him feel. However, the thought of watching you with another person filled him to brim with dread. Could he stand by and let that happen?

In his heart, no, he couldn’t let it happen.

“I hope you don’t plan on giving those to her,” Tech said while still fixated on his computer terminal, sitting on a rock.

“What? Why?” Wrecker said with an outraged tone, almost reaching for some bright red flowers on Kattada; a forest planet they landed on as a resting spot for the day.

“Unless you want (Y/N) to develop a rash, then I suggest you don’t,” he stated matter of factly. “The Iblorn’s sap creates a deadly rash to whoever comes in contact with i—”

Wrecker cut him off with a frustrated groan. He spotted purple flowers bunched up at the base of a tree. “How ‘bout these?” He picked them up and gave a sniff only to receive an onslaught of loud and rambunctious sneezing.

“Yeah, no,” Tech said before typing something rapidly onto his computer. “Try the Tumellas. According to this database, they appear to be harmless.”

Picking flowers for you shouldn't be so hard, thought Wrecker, and he had Tech, the smartest person he knew, to help him.

“Where do I find those?” he said looking at Tech expectedly.

Tech hummed in thought, reading through what he had on his screen. “You should be able to find them near a stream? Just find a yellow-orange flower with petals in a crown formation.”

Wrecker beamed, trying to contain both his excitement and nervousness. “Thanks, Tech.”

So with Tech’s description, he ventured into the forest to find a stream, which turned out to be not so difficult to find. He could hear the rush of water from a distance as he brushed passed bushes.

Okay, a yellow-orange flower with a crown petal arrangement. His eyes scanned over the bushes, but he found none. Wrecker found it difficult to even focus without his insecurities blaring into his head to stop whatever he was about to do. You would never like him the way he liked you. Yet despite his doubts, a small voice within the back of his mind was pushing him to try.

His eyes soon caught on the flower he ventured all this way for. The Tumella, as Tech said, was beautiful and so vibrant; hard to miss, like you, thought Wrecker. He plucked the stem of the flower to examine it closer. It wasn’t particularly small, but as it sat on the palm of his hand it was. Its center had a tawny brown bud and the smell—he took a sniff at the flower and grinned. Yeah, he was definitely bringing you these.

He crouched over to grab some more so he could arrange them into a bouquet of some sort. When he decided he had enough, Wrecker moseyed on back to the path he took to get back to you.

Soon, anxiety pooled into his stomach. His palms, which were carrying the flowers, were sweating in unease. He was scared, he realized the closer he got to the ship.

No, no he shouldn’t do this, what was he thinking?

Too distracted by his own thoughts, he didn’t hear you approach him.

“There you are,” your voice rang with enthusiasm.

Wrecker stopped in his tracks, assessing you with wide eyes, and without thinking, he quickly stuck the flowers behind him in panic.

Obviously, he wasn’t fast enough judging by your creased forehead, and your gaze centered on the arm he had behind his back.

“What are those?”

“Uhm,” He looked to the floor. “Nothing.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh come now, let me see! Did you find some kind of critter by any chance?”

He backed away from you slowly. “Um.” He didn’t know what to respond with. “Yes!”

“Oooh,” you craned your neck to try to see what it was. “Can I see it?”

“N-no,” he stammered.

“Oh come on!”

You gripped his arm to pull. “Show me!”

Knowing you weren’t going to stop any time soon, he cautiously presented to you the flowers.

You blinked in confusion a couple of times before talking.

“I wasn’t expecting that,” you replied with a small chuckle. You brushed your fingertips lightly over the petals in awe. “These are beautiful, where'd you find them?”

At this point, Wrecker’s face was as red as the markings on his armor.

“Uh, near the stream,” he managed to say through the lump lodged in his throat.

“So you collect plants now,” you said teasingly. “Didn’t take you for the type.”

He swallowed thickly. “Actually…these are for you.”

You froze and your mouth formed an ‘o’ shape at his words. Then your mouth lifted into a bright smile.

“Aww Wrecker,” you took them from his noticeable shaky hands. “Thank you, you’re so sweet! These are beautiful!” You sniffed them. “They smell wonderful too.”

Wrecker was fidgeting, seeing the happiness radiating from receiving his gift and it made it harder for him to say what he needed to say because he didn’t want to ruin this moment.

Your brows furrowed in worry at the clear and uncomfortable face he made. “Hey, you okay?”

His dark eyes snapped towards yours at the question.

“Yes, it’s just…” he wavered, bringing a hand behind his neck to rub at the skin. “I’m not good at this…”

Your gaze lingered at him in confusion. “Good at what?”

“I like you.”

The words spilled out of his mouth like a deluge.

“Well, I should hope so Wrecker,” you said with an arm propped on your hip. “We spend so much time with each other.”

Kriff.

“No… I like you,” he enunciated again, but this time slowly.

Your breath hitched and you both stood there, for what it seemed like forever in awkward silence.

The silence stretched on until you began to break into fits of laughter.

That was not the reaction Wrecker wanted and his heart felt like it was about to shatter.

Seeing the obvious hurt in his face, your laughter stopped and you launched yourself at him in a hug.

Startled at your abruptness, he wrapped his arms around you tightly, not fully grasping that this was real. You were hugging him right now.

“I didn’t mean to laugh,” you said wholeheartedly while pulling slightly away from his chest to look him in the eye. “I’m astonished is all because well… I like you too. Always have since the first time we met.”

Wrecker’s mind faltered at your confession. “Really?” He said, cupping his callous hand to your face in a gentle manner. “I-I thought you wouldn’t ‘cause I’m a giant, and-and act rough and people don’t like—”

You clamped a hand over his mouth to stop his rambling.

“I like you for you, Wrecker,” you said, looking at him with sincerity. “Your size and what makes you a fierce person will not, nor will it ever, turn me away from you, okay?”

You screeched when he lifted you over his shoulder and giggled at the boisterous shout of joy he gave.

Permanent Taglist: (lmk if you want to be added or removed) @chaotic-noceur @kaminobiwan

#requests #wrecker x reader #clone trooper wrecker x reader #wrecker

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sleepymccoy · 4 years

Note

“I’m going to need you to put on some underwear before you say anything else.“

Well, this was fun!!

Crowley stood by the lilies, fiddling with the hose head to make sure it was set to a gentle spray before he pointed it at the delicate flowers. They were shrinking from him, he’d bullied them arguably more than they deserved, but Crowley was determined to not show an ounce of regret. Softness did no good here.

The hose head clicked into place and the spray was picked up by the air and floated around Crowley’s head, getting in his hair and annoying him.

Crowley pointed the hose at the lilies and snarled.

The back door banged, followed by, “Don't mind me, dear heart, I'm not observing!”

Crowley turned and watched in bemused amusement as Aziraphale hurried across the lawn in his outrageously long dressing gown, a hand up to show that his eyes were averted.

“I just wanted to check on my clothes,” Aziraphale said loudly, as if shouting would prove he couldn’t see Crowley.

“S'alright,” Crowley said, waving the hose pointlessly. The fine mist hit him in the face. Aziraphale reached the clothes line and felt some of the clothes. “I'm done with the talking bit, you can stick around if you like.”

Aziraphale shook his head and left the clothes where they were, apparently needing to dry for longer. He turned and smiled at Crowley. “That hasn't lasted long today, are they behaving?” he asked condescendingly. Or at least, Crowley found it condescending, who knows how it was meant.

But Crowley enjoyed a little condescension from this particular angel, so he just grinned.

“No credit to them, but there's nothing wrong…” Crowley hissed, turning to the rose that he’d found a pest on. Not black spots, but pests were a bad sign. “...yet.”

“Lovely,” Aziraphale said. He waltzed towards Crowley, the bottom edge of his robe picking up flecks of damp green from the freshly cut lawn.

“Nice robe,” Crowley said, determined not to laugh - although he wanted to.

“Oh, thank you,” Aziraphale said fondly. A thought occurred to Crowley. He denied it for a moment, then encouraged because, well, it was already grass stained. Crowley spun the hose head to a more powerful stream. “I picked it up at that lovely little- Crowley!”

Aziraphale’s shout was loud, outraged and sparking in the air like dangerous electricity. Crowley diverted the hose’s water from Aziraphale, leaving him sputtering and wet.

Crowley opened his mouth and laughed easily, the sound loud and open.

“Crowley, how could you?” Aziraphale whined.

Crowley continued to grin. “Angel!” He said in response, filling his words with enjoyment.

Aziraphale shook his hands out, a few drops of water flying from them. “I can't believe you, all of my clothes are on the line!”

“It's a nice day, they'll dry,” Crowley pointed out. He spun the hose head again and pointed at the rose.

“I suppose I'll have to,” Aziraphale said sadly. He toddled off out of Crowley’s vision, headed for the clothes line.

“Yeah, show me those ankles, angel!” Crowley cried out, moving with a sway as he led the water stream in a dance. “Where'd you find a dressing gown that covers your ankles in this day and age, anyway?”

“Well, I was halfway through saying,” Aziraphale said, “but I think I'd rather leave you curious now, you horrible beast.”

Crowley chuckled. Aziraphale swanned back into his view, so Crowley glanced over then lost all concept of language.

“You-” he tried.

Aziraphale opened his arms. His bare arms. “What?”

Crowley’s lip trembled. “No-”

“This is your fault, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, pointing at Crowley seriously. Crowley’s eyes followed the wave of movement down Aziraphale’s body as he waved his finger. It moved through his chest, his stomach, made his dick wiggle, and his thighs. Crowley was entirely breathless.

“All of my clothes are on the line,” Aziraphale shouted, “you knew that!”

“Didn't-” Crowley gasped. “Underwear?”

“I only have the five pairs,” Aziraphale grumbled. “I have to get them made special these days. I'm afraid they’ve gone out of style.”

“Huh,” Crowley said dumbly.

Aziraphale crossed his arms and scowled at Crowley. His gaze strayed, following a vine, and his scowl passed quickly. “Well, this isn't too bad,” he admitted. “Not that you're forgiven, mind. Reminds me of Eden.”

There had been clothes in Eden, which was a point Crowley felt he was able to make. He could get past the joy and titillation of a suddenly naked and gorgeous Aziraphale and make this point. “Robe,” he grunted, failing spectacularly at communicating.

But Aziraphale understood, and he did so with a beautiful smile. “Not before the apple. We never met before sin, did we?”

Crowley shook his head.

Aziraphale walked closer, peering curiously at Crowley. His smile was growing in a way that Crowley didn’t trust. Deviousness came to mind. “Well, everyone was keen to prove they didn't know sin either,” Aziraphale said, “although we definitely did. Anyway, a whole lot of nakedness in those days.”

“Angel,” Crowley sighed. Aziraphale’s finger tapped the underside of Crowley’s chin, redirecting his gaze from a very lovely penis to a very lovely face. Crowley smiled and enjoyed a gentle kiss, just a kind press of lips.

“Angel,” Crowley sighed again.

“We have an apple tree,” Aziraphale said, “where is that?”

Crowley pointed at the apple tree.

Aziraphale smiled and kissed his nose. “I think that rose may be sufficiently watered, love,” he muttered, then turned to leave.

Crowley looked down and saw a very damp ground. “Shit,” he muttered.

In the few moments Aziraphale was gone he turned the hose mostly off, a weakness in the attachment leaving it trickling out until he could get to the tap. He poked the wet ground with his toe and found it unfortunately sodden.

“When did you first eat an apple?” Aziraphale asked.

Crowley looked up and embraced defeat. Here was Aziraphale, beautiful, naked, and letting apple juice drip down his chin. “I can't think,” he admitted.

“Really? That seems the sort of thing one ought to try and remember.”

“Angel,” Crowley choked, “I'm going to need you to put on some underwear before you say anything else.”

“Oh, darling, all of my clothes are damp, don't be ridiculous,” Aziraphale dismissed.

Crowley breathed out slowly, quietly confident his effort to calm would go unnoticed by his useless body.

“Besides,” Aziraphale said with a shrug. “Your fault.” He took another bite.

Crowley took another breath and met Aziraphale’s eyes, at last focusing on something that wasn’t just his outrageously attractive body. “Found an orchard a couple hundred years later,’ he breathed. “Didn’t taste that good.”

“Try this one, then?” Aziraphale offered, holding out his half eaten apple. “It's scrumptious.”

Crowley leaned, as if pulled by magnetism, and bit. It was fine, it was just an apple, but either he was trained to detect it or he was imagining it, but he felt like he could taste a hint of Aziraphale’s lips that had been on it a moment before.

“That poor rose is going to drown, Crowley,” Aziraphale muttered.

“Oh, fuck,” Crowley spat. The trickle had gained flow and the ground at his feet was plainly mud.

“I'm going inside,” Aziraphale said lightly, “there's a chill in the wind.”

“Right,” Crowley agreed. He threw the hose to the ground and stalked off to the tap to turn it off manually. The rose was just going to have to deal with a bit of extra water today. “Well,” Crowley admitted to himself as he wrenched at the rusted tap. Then he turned towards the house and smiled. “Right.”

Crowley followed Aziraphale inside.

#good omens #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #bastard!aziraphale #i enjoyed this a tonne #i have another w the exact same prompt and im pumped to have a go at it too #that one will be a naked crowley and im looking forward to it #but i have other asks to do first #lime

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itsyourchoice-hp · 3 years

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Year 2: Dementors

Author’s Note: I do not support JK Rowling’s trash opinions! _______________________________________________________ “But did you see the look on his face?” Draco howled, keeled over in the middle of the Corridor. “It was like-” he did an awful impression of somebody being afraid, and then proceeded to cackle, clutching a stitch in his side. Harry pulled his cloak over his head, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. “Honestly, Draco, you were just as frightened,” Hermione said. “Yeah, I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone scream so loudly before,” Ron snickered. Draco stopped laughing long enough to shoot him a glare. “What happened?” Ginny asked, joining the group. “Nothing!” Harry groaned. “I have to go to Quidditch practice…” “Watch out for Dementors!” Draco called after him, still laughing. “Draco, honestly…” Hermione rolled her eyes as he continued imitating Harry. It had already been two days since Cath had returned to for her second year on the Hogwarts Express. During the ride from King’s Cross to Hogsmeade Station, the train had been stopped by ghostly black figures cloaked in tattered robes - Dementors. They had inspected each compartment, opening the sliding doors with spindly, rotting hands. Their cold breath sucked the life out of everything around it. It was a horrible feeling. Nothing like that had ever happened on the Hogwarts Express - it was a shock to the whole student body. “Somebody, please tell us what’s happened,” Cath demanded. “When the Dementors came aboard the train… Harry didn’t take it too well,” Hermione began. “He sort of passed out-” “And screamed,” Draco put in. “I don’t blame him - it was an awful feeling,” Ron defended Harry. Everyone was quiet for a moment, remembering the cold dark feeling that the Dementors had brought to the train. “I still don’t understand why Dumbledore’s letting them be at the school all the time,” Draco said, frowning. “I’d rather have Dementors here than Sirius Black,” Ron pointed out. Everyone agreed. It had been all over the news that summer - a mass murderer named Sirius Black had escaped Azkaban prison after twelve years of imprisonment. Black had murdered about a dozen people at once, using a very dark and dangerous curse. Nobody knew how he had managed to escape the prison, but Professor Dumbledore had announced at the welcome feast two days again that the Dementors, who were guards of Azkaban, would be on Hogwarts grounds for safety reasons. “Dad said the Ministry was nearly in pandemonium when the news came out,” Ginny remarked. “My father doesn’t think that Cornelius Fudge has what it takes to catch Black,” Draco drawled. “He says Fudge is too used to everything going smoothly. When Black escaped, he had no idea what to do. Father had some excellent ideas on how to catch Black.” “Your father should just become Minister for Magic then…” Ron muttered. Malfoys and Weasleys didn’t typically get along too well. the Weasley’s father as well as Cath and Draco’s father worked at the Ministry of Magic. Cath and Draco had been raised in a family who was very proud of their Pureblood status, and though Cath didn’t much understand why it was so important, Draco adopted nearly every one of their father’s opinions even if he didn’t understand them either. “Father wouldn’t make a good minister either,” Cath said, giggling. “He’s got an awful temper. And he couldn’t do anything without Mum.” Just then a tall man approached their group. He looked worn and tired yet had a mysterious sort of aura, and wore dress robes in muted tones. Professor Dumbledore had introduced him as Professor Lupin, their new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. “Harry,” he said. “Could I have a word?” Harry followed him down the corridor, out of ear shot from the rest of them. “What do you think he wants?” Cath asked. “He was in our compartment on the train when Harry had his… episode,” Draco said, still biting back a smile and earning a slap on the shoulder from Hermione. “I suppose he’s just checking in. Cath and Ginny checked their timetables. “Damn,” said Cath. “I don’t have Defence until tomorrow!” The bell rang and Ron groaned, slumping his shoulders. “Ugh,” he said. “Divination… it’s torture! Enjoy second year while you can.” Cath and Ginny walked to the dungeons where Potions class was held. Looking out the windows before they descended the last flight of stairs, she could see Dementors floating around the castle grounds through the fog. “Five points from Gryffindor,” Professor Snape said as soon as Cath and Ginny entered the Potions dungeon. Cath sighed as they found a seat with a few Hufflepuff students. They had hardly been five minutes late to class, but then again Professor Snape was not likely to show sympathy to a student. He was moody all the time, and hated Gryffindors the most of all the houses. “Open your textbooks to Chapter 1. We will begin with the Sleeping Draught technique,” he instructed them. “I heard that Sirius Black was spotted in Croatia,” said Margo Peterson, a Hufflepuff student, leaning forward and whispering seriously. “Where’d you hear that?” Ginny frowned skeptically. “My father is friends with a special correspondent from the Daily Prophet,” she replied. “Was he looking for a nice, sunny vacation?” Cath said sarcastically. Professor Snape interrupted their whispering conversation with a whack of his metre stick on the blackboard. “I have already taken five points from you both. Unless you would like to continue your conversation in detention, I suggest you listen while I am instructing you,” he said, glaring at Ginny and Cath. A few students stifled their laughter while Ginny and Cath quickly busied themselves by finding the right chapter. “He’s probably looking for more people to murder,” Margo whispered before opening up her textbook. *** Ginny and Cath walked to the Great Hall together during their lunch break and joined a cluster of students at the Gryffindor table who were all engaged in excited chatter. “…we haven’t even gotten to the best part yet,” Fred Weasley was saying. “Zonko’s Joke Shop,” George cut in excitedly. “A pranksters haven… Fred and I are their most loyal customers.” “I heard Honeydukes has every candy and sweet imaginable,” said Ron, who was listening with wide eyes. “Everything you can imagine and more, dear brother,” Fred replied. “What are they talking about?” Ginny asked Cath. “Hogsmeade, the wizarding village,” Cath replied. “Draco’s been going on about it all summer. Third years get to visit on weekends.” “That’s not fair,” Ginny pouted. “There’s an excellent Quidditch supply shop too,” Draco put in. “Father got me my Nimbus Two Thousand One from there this summer. We visit Hogsmeade every now and then.” “Your daddy must really love you, Draco,” Seamus Finnigan said in a patronizing voice. “He loves the Slytherin Quidditch team too,” Draco replied with a smirk. Cath rolled her eyes. “What’s he on about?” Fred and George demanded to her. Both were Beaters on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, whose biggest competition was the Slytherin team. Cath sighed. “Draco begged father to buy the team new brooms.” The twins mouths dropped open in outrage. “New brooms can’t rival the skill that Gryffindor has,” said Hermione absentmindedly, engaged in a textbook. Cath saw her glance at Draco with a smirk, who returned it with a grin. “I suppose your team must be that desperate to win the cup this year if they had to beg for new brooms,” said Harry. “We’ll see about that, Potter,” Draco replied. “Draco!” Everyone turned and looked around. A few Slytherin third year students were looking at the Gryffindors with disgust, waving for Draco to come over as though they couldn’t believe he was sitting with them. Draco frowned, going red in the face. The others began helping themselves to food, the conversation coming to a halt. “See you later,” Draco said, quickly taking his school bag and joining the other Slytherins. Hermione looked at him over her shoulder until he sat down at the Slytherin table and then busied herself with her reading again. “Slytherins will be Slytherins,” George shrugged. “So, Hogsmeade,” Cath quickly changed the subject, grabbing a sandwich from a silver tray. The conversation about Hogsmeade began again, and Cath noticed Harry looking glumly at his plate, pushing a half-eaten sandwich around with a fork. “Are you going this weekend, then?” she asked him. Harry looked up at her and shook his head. “No, I - er, can’t.” “Why not?” Cath asked. Harry looked back down at his plate, scowling. “My aunt and uncle didn’t sign my permission form.” “You could send it to them by Owl post,” Cath suggested. “No, they wouldn’t sign it,” he replied. “They’re Muggles. They hate magic, and anything to do with Hogwarts. They nearly tossed the permission form in the fireplace before I grabbed it back from them. So, I suppose I’ll be staying here at the castle.” “Oh,” Cath said. “Well, you can hang out with Ginny and I then.” “Thanks,” Harry replied, smiling.

#harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #hpff #a03 fanfic #a03 writer #a03 feed #hermione granger #draco malfoy #dramione #fanfiction #original character #severus snape #ron weasley #writing #mine #it's your choice #hp aesthetic

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captain-s-rogers · 4 years

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It’s time for a challenge ladies and gents!

I absolutely love the TV show Psych! It’s one of my all time favorite shows and the dialogue in it is downright hilarious! Because of this I thought why not do a challenge using the dialogue from the show as prompts! That being said, I have selected 50 quotes from the show for the prompts!

ON TO THE RULES, REGULATIONS AND PROMPTS!

Rules

No need to be following me, but it would be nice, this is open to everyone.

Send me an ASK with your prompt choice (along with a backup) and your pairing of choice. Reblogs or replies with entries will be ignored. Asks without pairings indicated will be ignored. It just makes everything easier for me to keep track of this way.

I will be answering these asks privately so I don’t clog up everyone’s dashboards, which means no entering on anon. If you want to enter and will be posting on a side blog just let me know the name of the blog in your ask.

There will be only one spot open per prompt, however if this garners enough interest and all the prompts get taken I may open it up to two

This can be used as a oneshot, drabble or start of a series. Please don’t make it part of an ongoing series, I want to be able to read every fic in the challenge and I will not be able to catch up on a bunch of series.

Use the tag #ivehearditbothwayschallenge within the first five tags on the post

Be sure to mention that the fic is for my challenge as well as tag me in the actual post.

All pairings are welcome but please check my FAQ to see what I do and do not read.

Your pairing must be within the Marvel fandom.

It can be as short or as long as you’d like. All I ask is that if it is over 500 words to please use a keep reading feature.

Sign ups begin as soon as this is posted and will end April 30, 2020 the day before the challenge due date.

Posting begins whenever you finish writing!

Entries will be due by May 1, 2020. If you need an extension at any point or need to drop out just shoot me a message chances are I’ll say yes – we all have lives and things get in the way so I totally get it.

I will update the prompt list as often as possible with what is still available. Once a prompt has been filled I will cross it out.

Some of the prompts have characters’ names from the show, I will put these in [ ] so you know to change them!

HAVE FUN! I want you guys to enjoy this!

I think that just about covers it for the rules! If you have an questions feel free to drop an ask! Now let’s move on to the prompts!!

Prompts

“Just because you put syrup on something don’t make it pancakes.”

“Well, much like Lady Gaga, I was born this way.”

“We take our hand-held entertainment very seriously.”

“Everyone stop what you’re doing and only pay attention to me.”

“They tell me I got something called Narcissistic Personality Disorder. But, uh, the truth is this lustrous hair and dimpled chin are merely chapter one. I’m a veritable cornucopia of high-octane maladies, such as outrageous intelligence syndrome. And a little obsessive successful disorder.” @captain-rogers-beard

“I can’t help being a gorgeous fiend. It’s just the card I drew.”

“What isn’t clear is why people always say ‘goes without saying’, yet still feel compelled to say the thing that goes without saying. Doesn’t that bother you?”

“First question. What is your name?” “There is a murderer on the loose.” “That is not your name.”

“Sorry, I was too busy James Bonding it up in here.” @sagechanoafterdark

“I will eat you in manageable, bite-sized pieces.”

“She’s obviously meeting a new boy toy. Maybe one even younger than the last.” “Younger? Who do you think she’s meeting with, Justin Beiber?” @arrowsandmixtapes

“[Guster], you have to wake up to the real world: people have sex and kill each other. That’s the real world. Not some magical ‘feelings’ place.”

“Holy crap, are you checking your email?” “I get productive when I’m nervous.”

“I wanted to be heroic.” “Oh, [Mary], with a flare gun?”

“I’ve seen it all.” “You’ve seen it all through the cracks in your fingers while you were hiding your eyes.”

“I still smell like stinky nuts!”

“I’m not big on nude handshakes.”

[Gus] don’t be Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Marzipan.” “It’s Azkaban.” “I’ve heard it both ways.”

“I don’t lose things. I place things in locations which later elude me.”

“I’m just saying, technology is way overrated.” “That’s interesting -- just yesterday you told me you intend on having your wedding in space.”

“Are you in my apartment?” “Please. I haven’t snuck into your apartment for weeks. Which reminds me, you’re all out of peanut butter.” @thorfanficwriter

“I can’t believe you thought that text was from me. It lacked all nuance, my signature mocking tone, and was utterly devoid of emoticons.”

“Well, fooling around with your best friend’s sister certainly wasn’t your most brilliant idea.” “No, that was the toaster alarm I invented in the third grade that woke you up by smacking you in the face with a waffle.”

“I have an idea, but we’ll need cool names.”

“[Mindy] it’s official: you’ve won bitchiest banana.”

“Just call me the suck-stopper. No, wait. Don’t ever call me that.”

“Well, at least that gives us the ‘how’. Now we just gotta figure out the ‘why’, which reminds me, [Gus], will you please get us those tickets for The Who?” “Where?”

“Where do I get a juice box and does it come in grapalicious.”

“I think your shirt and his shirt should get together and go bowling.”

“I’m gonna crack her like a bad back!”

“How about you play six degrees of kiss my ass?”

“Where’d you get that suit, the toilet store?”

“Oh, yeah? Well, I’ve got an ice-cold can of whoop-ass just sitting in that fridge!” “Actually, it’s diet whoop-ass.”

“Hooray for loopholes!”

“The chips say you’re a cheater, cheater pumpkin eater!”

“Clouds don’t kill people. People kill people.”

“We find the mystery lover, we find her.” “Dude. Why don’t I ever get to say things like that?”

“There is something I’ve got to get off my chest.” “Is it your shirt? Please say no.”

“Heard about Pluto? That’s messed up.”

“This place is trashed.” “Maybe Johnny Depp stopped by.” “I’m sorry, did that joke just arrive in a time machine from 1992?”

“Don’t touch that, it’s blood.” “It’s not blood.” “Enjoy your hepatitis.”

“There’s a Lt. Crunch here to see you.” “Crunch?” “Actually, I’ve been promoted. It’s Captain Crunch.”

“How do you just eat when there’s a dead guy laying there?” “What, is that rude? Am I supposed to share?” @mermaidxatxheart

“I just got a lap dance from Patrick Swayze!”

“Kudos on the childrearing. Let me know how the therapy goes.”

“You’re dating a murderer!” “Not exclusively.”

“Okay, you have got to stop calling your nose the Super Smeller. If you want to nickname a body part, nickname your butt, man. Call it the Tight-Bouncer or the Hexagon. Ladies are gonna dig that.”

“You cannot sit here alone in the dark in a parked car. You’ll get picked up for Mopery.” “Mopery?” “With intent to creep. Trust me, you don’t want that. It’ll put a big hole in your future.”

“How can you tell that someone’s a compulsive liar? I mean, assuming that their pants aren’t on fire.”

“And that, ladies and gentlemen, is precisely why time travel is not only possible but may have already happened.”

Tagging for interest and signal boosting!

@arrowsandmixtapes @the-murder-strut-murdered-me @growningupgeek @captain-rogers-beard @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan

#ivehearditbothwayschallenge #challenge time #challenge announcement

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letswritebangtan · 5 years

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promised a lie

College!au; Student!Jungkook x Student!reader

genre: fluff

synopsis: you had one goal set, and that was to make it to Harvard. As much as you were intelligent, talented and hardworking, there was still a chance you might miss out on your dream school. Jeon Jungkook wanted to give you that chance in exchange of a small favour. But why did he promise you something he couldn’t exactly give to you?__________________________________________________

“Wet socks or wet underwear?” Seokjin questioned.

“Seriously Jin? You should have been done with chapter two by now.” you warned.

“I’m taking a break, y/n.”

“You took one ten minutes ago. And that break lasted like eight minutes.”

“You know what’s depressing, y/n? The fact that you kept count.”

“It’s not depressing, if I don’t count for you then who will?”

“Oh come on! We’ve been doing this for two hours, you know it’s proven that an average person can only study up to two hours and after that nothing really goes into your brain so it’s pointless.” he argued.

“Where’d you read that, Wikipedia?”

“y/n,” he groaned, “At least let’s go grab a drink at the cafeteria. I heard there’s lemonade today.”

“I’m not thirsty.”

“Doesn’t matter, you’re my friend, and friends accompany each other to drink lemonade now let’s go.”

Soon you found yourself being dragged to where most students hung out during breaks. It was crowded as always, and loud. Jin ditched you to buy lemonade and asked you to find a table, and as you scanned the area your eyes landed on one of the loudest tables. The amount of testosterone showing there nearly sickened you, the football players were laughing obnoxiously at something one of the girls had said. None of them really caught your attention except for the youngest, Jeon Jungkook.

I’m telling you, if I say this guy is hot he is smokin hot. He’s built like a football player should be, broad shoulders, muscular back, long legs, and the rest of him was just muscles protruding everywhere they possibly could, but somehow it wasn’t overdone. He was perfect. His hair was straight but curled at the ends and parted slightly to the side. His doe eyes were jet black, and they were now looking at you.

You snapped out of your trance and turned away, continuing your hunt for a place to sit. You found one at a corner with used cutlery and dirty plates on top, but it was also a great place if you wanted to sit and stare at the handsome jock that was previously mentioned. However, it was also a perfect place for him to be able to watch you. But if you didn’t find a place to sit in the next five minutes, Seokjin will probably make you squeeze into a table with other people you didn’t really want to interact with. So you pushed whatever it was aside and sat down.

“You couldn’t have found a cleaner table? It looks like gorillas invaded this place.” he said as he cringed.

“Oh just shut up and sit. I asked the cafeteria lady to help clean up.”

“Or, maybe it’s because you have a really good view?”

“What?” you asked squinting at him, confused expression on your face.

Jin sat down and handed you a cup of lemonade.

“I know your pretty boy’s at twelve o’clock. Don’t need to hide it, y/n.” he teased.

“Are you fucking kidding me? He’s the last person I’d call pretty.” you scoffed.

“Then who’s the first?” he hummed.

“Jimin. He’s what you call a pretty boy. Just look at him, how does a guy look so hot in pink hair?” you sighed.

“Yeah you see, pink hair and everything, that’s all fake shit. Just look at me, I’m naturally extremely handsome. You can ogle at me instead.”

You picked up a half eaten fry on the table and flung it at your best friend making him shout his protests.

“Gross!”

You chuckled and took a sip of your lemonade, looking at what you were previously focusing on. You flinched slightly in surprise when you saw Jungkook already looking at you. He flashed you a smirk, and then a wink, and before he could do anything else your turned away quickly. Maybe looking at Jin’s face for now wasn’t such a bad idea.

time skip

Maths was horrible, but you didn’t expect it to be any better than the usual. You practically dragged yourself out of class as you walked to your locker. Jin had Chemistry, and you were done for the day. You had an hour’s shift at the library, so you could wait until Jin was done with class so you two could walk home together like usual. But today, god had different plans for you, because you almost had a heart attack when you saw fucking Jeon Jungkook leaning against the door of your locker.

“You’re right, she is hotter close up-” Taehyung grunted as he was cut off by Jungkook’s elbow to his stomach.

“Hi y/n.” Jungkook smiled at you and he dared to poke his tongue past his lips so that he could wet them in a swift motion.

“Yeah, hey.” you mumbled, confusion laced in your tone.

“You look really nice in those jeans,” Jungkook said as he rubbed the back of his neck.

Your eyes shot up to look at him as you stifled your laughter at his stupid remark. Jungkook realised what he said wasn’t so cool and his cheeks tinted pink, and you thought he was so much more attractive without his tough cool guy exterior.

“So you came to my locker to talk to me about my jeans?” you asked, eyebrows raised.

“I have a proposition.” he sighed in defeat. He turned to look at Taehyung, signalling him to get outta there, but he didn’t really catch that.

“Dude, your eyes are spasming.” Taehyung said worriedly.

Jungkook groaned and shoved him friend away. You heard a small “rude” before Taehyung left the two of you alone.

“Yeah so, back to the point. I need a favour.” he asked.

“What makes you think I’ll do you a favour?”

“You wanna consider this one, trust me.”

You bit your lip, thinking of whether you should let the guy proceed, but there was no harm in hearing what he had to say right?

You sighed and nodded, and he smirked before he continued talking.

“I need you to help me get a job at the library.”

“You what?” you asked surprised.

“You heard me, princess.”

“Okay, first of all, never call me that. Second, why on earth do you want a job at the library? I’m pretty sure your family isn’t short of cash.” you asked.

“It’s not about the money. I want work experience plus, it’ll look good on my profile. Universities care about this kinda stuff.” he explained.

“Oh, well, you shouldn’t be asking me. I’m not the one who decides whether or not to employ you.”

“Well that’s just it babe, since you work there and since you’re such an amazing student, the head librarian is definitely going to consider your recommendation. So if you could use that pretty little mouth of yours and let her know, I could make it worth your while.” he offered.

You wanted to smack him for flirting so outrageously like that, because you were pretty sure the way he spoke to you was no different than when he spoke to other girls.

“I’m not sleeping with you, you asshole.” you snapped.

“Okay, I’m a bit offended. And just so you know, that wasn’t what I was offering.”

“Oh,” you said feeling bashful, “Well then what were you offering?”

“You know how influential my dad is, and he’s got lots of contacts. He knows a guy at Harvard and I know how much of a sucker you are for that shitty place so I could talk to him to maybe get you-”

“You’ve gotta be shitting me, Jeon. Are you serious? Your dad really knows a guy? Also that place isn’t shitty, you probably think it is because you’re too stupid to qualify so you blame it on the institution.”

“Okay calm down, woman. Don’t need to attack my intelligence here. All I’m saying is that if you can get me this job, I can basically make your dreams come true. Bonus, you’ll be working together with me, and how great does that sound?” he said cockily.

“I might just pass on the offer because of your bratty attitude.”

“I’m not that bad.” he whined.

“Yeah we’ll see about that.”

“So, is it a deal?” he asked stepping closer to you, now crossing your line of personal space. He was so close that you could smell his cologne. It was like that for a while, before you came back to your senses and took a step back.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Great, I’ll see you around then, beautiful.” he replied with a wink and then left you alone to hate his guts but also to swoon just a little.

time skip

“He was flirting with you, y/n. I knew it, I fucking knew it from the start, that guy has a crush on you.” Seokjin said firmly.

“For the last time, Seokjin, he talks that way to every female he interacts with.” you defended.

“Will you ever stop being so dense? y/n there are three other people who work at the library, two of which are girls. It’s either he’s gay, or he has a crush on you. End of story.”

“I’ll go with ‘he’s gay’ then.” you shrugged.

Jin sighed and poked his fork into a piece of meat. “So, are you gonna get him the job?”

“I don’t know. I mean, I know for sure Harvard is what I want, but I don’t want to get in because they ‘talked’ me in, I wanna get in because I’m good enough.” you sighed.

“If you think about it, y/n, no amount of persuasion can go against your grades. If you meet the requirements which I’m sure you will, and if you’ve done extracurriculars which you have, talk or no talk, you’ll still be good enough.”

You sipped from your drink until its contents were empty and then tossed it in the bin. You stood up and gathered your things.

“It’s a deal then.”

You walked over to the one place you knew you’d find Jungkook at this hour. Stepping out onto the field you saw Jungkook on the tracks doing his daily push ups. Of course he was shirtless. But there was something else to look at too. His friends were with him, also doing push ups, also shirtless. More importantly, there was Jimin.

Hot damn he looked good working out, but then your eyes instinctively trailed to Jungkook. There was something about him that made him different from the rest. As hot as the football team was, Jungkook was attractive in ways more than just one.

He seemed to have noticed you standing there watching him. His expression turned from pained and exhausted to a surprised and happy one in the matter of seconds. He jumped up from the ground and grabbed his shirt from the bench, wiping his sweat off although not doing a great job at it, and then walked over to you.

His body was glistening, you could see his abs, his chest his slim waist his arms his everything. You were slightly flustered when he ran a hand through his hair, muscles flexing against his skin as if they were going to pop.

“Came to see me, princess?” he asked smirking.

“Lose the ‘princess’ would you? I have my answer.”

“So what’s the answer?” he asked.

“Well I’m not telling you when you’re all gross and sweaty. Go take a shower and put on a shirt.”

He chuckled, “You’re that bothered, huh? I knew your pink cheeks weren’t due to the sun.”

“W-what?” you stuttered.

“I’ll meet you outside in 15 minutes. We’ll go get coffee and you can talk me all you want.”

So you found yourself having coffee with Jeon Jungkook. He was real sweet though, nothing like you had thought of him before. He was funny too, and you realised behind the person that was the jock Jeon Jungkook, there was the real Jungkook. The smart, kind, funny and lovable one.

“How did you know I wanted to go to Harvard? You were a stranger to me before all of this.” you asked curious.

“You know the essays we had to write for English? When the teacher asked us to mark each others’ papers, I got yours. You mentioned it there.” he said.

“Oh, so you read my essay?”

“Yeah, I did. I thought it was great how you have hello kitty pyjamas.” he teased, making you gasp.

“Okay well screw you. I love those pyjamas, so much I included it in my writing.”

“I’d love to see you in them.”

“Not happening, Jeon.”

“Listen, what I said about Harvard, that was wrong. I apologise. It’s not shitty at all, I think it’s great that you have amazing goals and that you’re working so hard to achieve them. I admire that about you.” he said suddenly.

You swallowed and smiled shyly at him, “Uh, thanks I guess. And apology accepted.”

“You haven’t given me your answer though, y/n.”

“Wow, took you like six hours to finally address me using my name. I appreciate it, thanks. Anyway, my answer is yes, I’ll get you a job at the library.” you said.

He grinned and lifted his coffee cup to clink it with yours but you stopped him by placing a hand on his wrist. Jungkook looked up at you surprised that you initiated a form of physical contact with him.

“But there’s something else I want.” you asked with a glint in your eye.

“And what’s that?” he asked frowning.

“Set me up on a date with Jimin.”

Jungkook’s frown only deepened at the mention of his teammate’s name.

“Jimin? Why would you want to date him? He’s not that great.” Jungkook lied.

You shrugged, “He’s good looking, charming, and I’ve had a crush on him for a few months now.”

“You have?” Jungkook asked in disbelief.

You were having too much fun with this. Jin was right, Jungkook did like you. And you thought you’d have a little bit of fun with it until Jungkook confessed. It was obvious you felt the same way about him, but you tried to be subtle.

“Yeah, so, can you do that for me or not?” you questioned.

Jungkook chewed on his lower lip in annoyance, drumming his fingers onto the table.

Finally he sighed, “Okay, fine. But you get me my job first.”

“Consider it done, Jeon.”

“Jungkook.” he said quickly after.

You looked at him surprised and his gaze was hard on you. “Call me Jungkook. I don’t want to hear anymore of this Jeon nonsense. You call Jimin by his first name, but you can’t call me by mine?” he asked annoyed.

You wanted to hard to laugh, it was working. “Okay Jungkook, calm down.”

He sighed and leaned back in his seat and puffed his cheeks. You giggled at how he was so easily jealous, earning a look from him.

“What are you laughing at?” he asked.

“Nothing, you’re really cute that’s all.”

Well shiver me timbers, there you went embarrassing yourself. Did you really just say that out loud.

Jungkook raised an eyebrow as he smirked slightly, “Did you just call me cute?”

You huffed, accepting your defeat as your cheeks flushed. “Yeah so?” you retorted.

Jungkook chuckled as he leaned forward to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, making you freeze.

“You’re confused, y/n. You’re the cute one here.” he said, body still bent forward and his face close to yours.

“Very funny.” you tried to be sarcastic and sat back immediately.

time skip

Working with Jungkook wasn’t that bad. He was pretty organised and he was tall so he helped with all the books on the higher shelves. He didn’t forget to tease your height though, he wouldn’t miss the chance. He was also efficient, he finished all the tasks you assigned to him and he did a pretty damn good job at it. However, he did ask a lot of questions.

“Who the hell reads encyclopedias?”

“Why are the biography books so thick?”

“Hey y/n, you ever wonder what went through J.K. Rowling’s mind when she was writing Harry Potter? Like yea let’s make this kid a wizard so he can fly on a broom.”

“y/n why are you so hot?”

“Jungkook, shut up.”

“Now that’s no way to thank someone for a compliment.”

“Will you just enter these into the computer?” you groaned as you handed him a stack of papers.

“Sure.” he chimed before plopping himself onto the office chair.

It was pretty late and there were about five to ten people at the library, all scattered in different corners. You and Jungkook were pretty far away from them, so you practically has the space to yourselves.

Just as you were about to turn around, you tripped over one of the cables and you stumbled like a maniac and guess where you landed? Right smack on his lap.

Jungkook grunted as he took your weight, and you may or may not have put a little pressure onto his dick, so.....

“Whoa, you okay there y/n?” he asked concerned, his hands placed on your waist instinctively.

You were still recovering from the shock, so you took a few extra seconds to respond.

“I-I’m okay.” you exhaled. Then you realised you were still on his lap. You shot up and backed away slightly.

“Oh shit, I’m really sorry.” you apologised.

“It’s cool, I’d rather you land here than the cold hard floor.” he said.

“Did I hurt you? I mean I’m quite heavy so-”

“Heavy? y/n you’re as light as a feather.”

“But I’m pretty sure I-ah!” you yelped when you felt yourself being lifted from the ground.

You clasped your hand over your mouth because this was the library and this was no place for squealing. You saw Jungkook grinning up at you, his arms tucked right under your butt as he supported your weight in the air.

“Jungkook, what the actual fuck do you think you’re-”

“See? Light as a feather.” he said cockily.

“Will you put me down?” you scolded.

“Not until you admit you’re not heavy.” he challenged.

“You can’t carry me forever.” you scoffed.

“Oh we’ll see about that, babe.”

You rolled your eyes and placed your hands on his shoulders for support.

“You need to get your arms away from my ass, Jungkook.” you warned.

“Well how am I supposed to lift you then? Bridal style? I could-”

“No!” you exclaimed, and then scolded yourself for being loud in your head.

“No,” you huffed. “Don’t you dare.”

“Just admit you’re light and I’ll set you free, princess.”

“For the love of god, okay fine, I’m light. Lighter than a piece of thread now will you put me down?” you wriggled in his grip.

“Don’t move too much you’re slipping!” Jungkook whisper shouted.

But it was too late because Jungkook lost his grip on you and you felt yourself plunging to the floor but then you felt hands at the bottom of your thighs and you clung onto Jungkook like your life depended on it. Your legs were now wrapped around his waist and now his hands weren’t under your butt, they were on your ass cheeks instead.

“This isn’t any better.” you protested.

“I kinda like it.” he said coolly.

“Jeon Jungkook, put me down this instant. I admitted whatever you wanted me to.”

“Hm, I could put you down, or I could just keep you like this.” he hummed.

Your hands were wrapped around his neck and your faces were now closer than ever before. If this wasn’t the moment I don’t know what would be.

“y/n?” he mumbled.

Your eyes flickered from his lips and then to his eyes. “Hm?”

“What would you do if I kissed you right now?” he muttered softly.

Your fingers played with the strands at his nape, and Jungkook watched as you licked your lips unintentionally.

“I think I would kiss you back.”

And those were the last words spoken before the kiss. He pressed his lips onto yours, sharing and open mouthed kiss. He sucked on your lower lip making you groan in want. Slowly, he snuck his tongue in, pleading for entrance and you didn’t hesitate giving in. And that was how the two of you made out at the library reception, mouth on mouth, hands everywhere.

You pulled away gasping for air, and Jungkook’s lips moved to latch onto your neck. You whimpered when he bit down onto your flesh and tugged at his locks.

“Jungkook.” you gasped.

“What is it baby?” he mumbled against your skin.

“We’re in public.”

“Great.”

“Jungkook.” you scolded as you swatted his arm.

He grumbled and pulled away to look at your neck, satisfied with the bruise he left. His gaze then trailed to your face, your cheeks flushed and your hair slightly messy.

“You look really beautiful, have I ever told you that?” he said out of the blue.

That brought an instant smile to your face. You giggled and pushed his face away playfully.

“What’s up with you?” you asked.

Jungkook set you down but didn’t let go of you just yet, holding you close by your waist.

“I didn’t want this job because of that University bullshit. I wanted it because I wanted to get closer to you. I’ve been trying to think of ways to talk to you but bribing you was the stupidest of them all and I can’t believe I went with that.” he admitted.

You smiled and toyed with the fabric of his shirt.

“Stupid or not, your plan worked didn’t it?” you teased.

Jungkook chuckled, “I guess it did. I really like you, y/n. And uh, would you wanna, you know, be my girlfriend?”

“I’d love to, you dork.”

“So, I don’t have to set you up on a date with Jimin?” he asked hopefully.

“Well what do you think, genius?”

__________________________________________________

the end. do like and reblog pretty please <3 i hope you guys enjoyed reading this one.

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mag7dumbies · 5 years

Text

Magnificent Seven Series (1998) Pilot major spoilers

So I finally finished watching the Pilot and good lord I had thoughts, and no this is not the first time I’ve watched this episode, I’m just that extra when I watch TV

(Here we go yet again folks strap in)

(I have mentioned I hate the confederates- garbage humans the lot)

(Also giving birth is better in a squatting position- or at least that’s what I’ve heard)

(Seminoles are actually a very interesting tribe to read about)

“I respect no man’s law but my own” well fuck you too racist bastard (not only that but you need to get a fucking haircut and someone to repair that ratty flag of yours or better yet burn it)

I hate that he is so right cause we still have nut jobs in the south who are in denial that we won the war

The movie was so much nicer goodness (I mean violence wise it wasn’t as insane as this is)

I hate that the general is not completely bad (he isn’t close to good but he still has morals, which is hard to believe considering what he believes)

(The general is nuttier than an oak tree)

OKAY HOW DARE YOU, I’M NEARLY A TRILLION PERCENT SURE THAT SAND IS SACRED AND YOU JUST FUCKING CHUCK IT WHO RAISED YOU

AND YOU PUT THAT MASK WHERE YOU FOUND IT GODDAMN IT

“I believe I can turn gold into bullets” (what does that even mean)

(Didn’t realize that this whole episode was a week’s worth of stuff huh)

(I love that they included freed slaves just makes me happy)

Lordy boardy here we go

Chris this is not the time for a drink

The duster flaps in the wind- okay we get it Chris is a badass- he was drinking glass, earlier we know

The Marshall is a coward (this reminds me of a fantastic fic I once found that had the Marshall return and Nathan was understandably pissed it was awesome)

He’s wearing an apron- oh Vin you have fallen so far, (I’m glad he has long hair though, in the movie it was pretty short which didn’t really fit cause you know Vin isn’t one for conventions or white men tradition)

Mary, Mary quite contrary-angry I mean angry good lord I love her

(I always pronounce gangrene as gaygrene and its super frustrating cause I’ll try my hardest to say it right but my mouth doesn’t work that way or at least it doesn’t sound right)

Only in the nineties could you say darkie doctors on TV and not be immediately cancelled or there to be some sorta outrage, same thing applies to lynching, you can hang white folks on TV but the minute a black person is having the noose we have problems (which is really good cause there are people still alive that have probably witnessed a lynching of someone who certainly didn’t deserve it)

That son of a bitch, pushing Mary was stupid because not only are you being racist which is a trait no one likes but also being a sexist pig- (you are in for it now)

Uh-oh Vin is pissed that isn’t good for anyone (well Nathan but that isn’t the point)

Do you think Vin gives a damn about being employed- and how did he get the apron off so fast like damn

THE FUCKING NOD

Here he comes the stupidest boy in the Wild West- (I’m gonna punch something I swear)

He’s so little

Chris nearly shot Jd’s foot off

“Where’d you come from” where did you go where’d you come from, tall dark stranger and his weird friend

(The saloon bit tickles me to death)

(For some reason it reminds me of Lone Ranger and I don’t know why)

Vin is a fucking sweetheart and I love him

Poor Nathan I hope his throat is okay

Vin do you have to be negative and suicidal in the same swoop seriously

Its Buckaroo time everybody, hell yeah

Then he jumps out a fucking window like a moron, and Chris is just standing there like a he’s too cool for school

(Is it Josiah or ‘osiah, not entirely sure)

And here comes the Ez, ugh he’s about as cute as he can get

“Sorry for the mess” lordy be

(Love Ez’s one-liners)

“I abhor gambling” carefully baby don’t want Maude to hear you and fuck you too you Southern bigot (I know he gets better but still, that language isn’t okay)

What the fuck is he doing with his fancy footwork just leave the saloon for mother’s sake

It’s too early in the morning to deal with Jd just goddammit (I’m gonna make some popcorn and come back to this cause I seriously can’t)

(Okay I’ve calmed down and I am ready for the stupidity)

What did he think was going to happen, of course, you fell off your fucking horse you side saddled that bitch and startled a horse that you don’t even know you’re better than this

(The only thing he can’t do is have a brain cell)

Chris is an asshole

This damn kid

Buck what the hell are, you doing, leave the kiddo be

(I also find it difficult to trust white men)

And here comes the boy and Buck (Jd’s hair is just bad, it’s like Snape’s)

Buck is right about Jd being a prep

“We’ll carve it on his tombstone” brutal Chris just brutal

(Vin is a sweet boy have I said that already cause he is)

Ezra is so good with kids damn

(Ron Perlman’s arms hell yeah)

Ezra nearly died good lord and he just goes with it and pretends he did it on purpose

Here comes Rainey girl I love her

Nathan why you hurt me, and RAINE THIS ISNT THE TIME TO PLAY MATCHMAKER

I love Raine’s dad he’s fantastic

Buck is such a goof I love him

Why is the guy, so raspy what happened

Jd getting punched is my favorite

This is so cringe, and I really like it “I was in prison for not being white” (that is still the case for some people and we all know it)

Buck CHILL THE FUCK OUT

Vin are you serious, you don’t know Chris and there you are just hanging out and suddenly you’re like hey dude if I die, take my body to Tascosa you will get a huge payday, he didn’t have to do that at all but he’s just that dude I love him too much

(There’s also a really good fic about Josiah and his crows it's great)

Ezra, I’m done with you, good lord just go home

Here we go

Nathan is a gift to all

Buck don’t waste bullets and Josiah go to a hospital, Jd you’re an idiot and nearly died plus Ezra what are you doing go to Nathan, dumbass

Buck spewing truth everywhere

Bruised my ass Ezra just accept help like a normal human being goddamn

Nathan does not take no for an answer and ow I heard that crack in my own arm ouch

Nathan called him out

Josiah, I love you so much, (usually, I really hate missionaries cause they can be extremely intolerant to other religions especially those of Native peoples,) but Josiah tries his best to respect them which is a breath of fresh air

Josiah fainting isn’t helpful I don’t care what the crows, say (he’s a birdbrain)

Poor Jd, I just wanna give him a hug, and dude chill you are being a mess, like drink like a normal person

Buck stop telling people Chris’s past it isn’t appropriate

And I swear we own an old blanket that looks exactly like Josiah’s poncho no joke

“I’m a spiritual man, sometimes I turn to the wrong kind of spirits” I love this line

Ezra stop corrupting the youth, (Ezra is like O’Reilly and I love that characterization)

What debts they can’t be older than 10, Ezra stop, please

Nathan, I get you love, her -chill, and Jd “I haven’t shot anyone yet” are you kidding me, seriously

“Buck you’re full of crap” “You’re just figuring that out now” (Had I mentioned I love their dynamic cause I really really do)

(I did some research on Laudanum, purely for fun and apparently, it’s basically just a mixture of every opiate available and then some, plus it’s illegal to make for obvious reasons,)

That’s right Ezra you aren’t a coward or at least not completely

(Jd’s story makes me think that maybe MAYBE he was abused as a kid in the stables, not anything too horrific but still bad and I really wanna write about it)

Btw there is a wonderful thing (I think it was posted by 7men not sure though) anyway it says something about Jd used some of the money to take care of his mama before she died, and after there wasn’t enough to go to college but there was enough to go out west) I think about it at least once a month

(The war is over if only some people could get that through their thick heads)

Ezra you sneaky son of a bitch pulling a Chico

Chris is such a badass I mean that must hurt pulling off that handcuff

Round Three

I’m a bad bitch “You can’t kill me”

John Daniel Dunne- are you kidding me, are you trying to make either myself or Buck die because if you are you’re doing a great job (He is so stupid)

Buck, really you could have tackled him or really done anything else- instead you decide to fucking get stabbed by a sword (this is why you only have half a brain cell- I mean God fucking damn it)

Really Jo seriously like thanks for taking a bullet for Buck but really

Watching this episode has taken almost three hours but it’s totally worth it

(This is the worst part ugh it's like a weird zombie movie)

“You were like a son to me” Bitch you nearly shot him with a cannon

Chris thank you I wasn’t sure if that stupid general was gonna bite it or not

Jd cut out the angst you’re gonna hurt yourself

This old dude is a gift

“Buck, you look awful” kid your hair looks awful don’t let me get started

Nathan, Raine and the kid look like the perfect family and it makes me smile

“Where you going? Get down off that horse” poor Nathan what did he do to deserve the stress of dealing with those idiots like seriously what did he do

The good thing though is I’m pretty sure Josiah got a new poncho which is definitely a win

Raine gets it though she’s just ‘look those white morons are gonna get themselves killed so it’s better if you at least try to save their skins’ I can handle things here

Poor Josiah, he is just as hunched over as he can be, its pitiful

Okay I’m FINALLY done with this episode, think I may read a little before I get back on the saddle and on to my absolute favorite episode One Day Out West

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jewish-privilege · 6 years

Text

@skystonedclouds replied (a lot) to this post:

Well I’m female... So you’re off to a bad start. There also multiple Talmuds. The old one is different. I was referring to the Babylonian Talmud (written after Jesus). Not the old Talmud written long ago.

We do “follow” the Talmud (when Jews say Talmud, they’re referring to the Babylonian Talmud/Talmud Bavli). Jews who believe the Torah to be divinely inspired also believe the Talmud to be divinely inspired. The Talmud explains the Torah. It’s not “basically just random people making up guides for the heck of it.”

You need to stop learning about Judaism from white and Christian supremacists and separatists. All Jewish people read the Babylonian Talmud, so I guess we’re all Satanic Christ killers who want to cover up how we killed Jesus.

And they were both finalized after Jesus; they both contain teachings that JESUS IS LITERALLY QUOTED IN YOUR BIBLE AS SAYING. The Mishnah is part of both Talmuds. Jesus was teaching the Mishnah (only one version! Same ole Mishnah in both! Although neither covers the entire Mishnah because, you know, Romans wouldn’t let us practice our culture!). Both of them are the recordings of debates amongst rabbis over Torah since, oh, around 550 BCE if not earlier.

The Talmud Yerushalmi/Jerusalem Talmud (you know it was “the old Talmud written long ago”) was finalized in the 4th century (because Theodosius II decided that Jews couldn’t learn Judaism anymore). Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure that’s after the crucifixion.

As an aside, do you know why the Talmuds exist? The Temple had been destroyed (again), the Jews were expelled (again), and the rabbis knew they had to change Judaism because centering it on the Temple and in Judea/Samaria/Jerusalem was now impossible. The rabbis had to write down all of their discussions and teachings. All of them, both the normative and non-normative opinions. So, even you saying that Jews follow the “old” Talmud shows you don’t really understand what the Talmud is. We study the Talmud (which is made up of the Mishnah and the Gemara) to understand the Torah because we can't just go ask one of the rabbis roaming around Jerusalem any more. A diaspora in 2018 is different than a small, concentrated tribal group in 1st century Judea. You’d start to write shit down too if you realized you no longer had one central place to argue, study, and teach because it had been razed to the ground.

The reason there are two is that after the destruction of the Temple and the exile of Jews from Jerusalem, the two remaining academic centers of Judaism were Mesopotamia (Talmud Bavli/Babylonian Talmud) and Syria Palaestina (Talmud Yerushalmi/Jerusalem Talmud/Palestinian Talmud). (As an aside, the Talmud Yerushalmi doesn't have the Gemara because Theodosius II decided that Jews couldn’t learn Judaism anymore. It ends rather abruptly.)

The God of the Torah the one true God who had a son. He died for me to take my place so I do not have to die. He is merciful 💖🙏 amazing grace and love for sure 💕Psalm 145:2 Every day will I bless thee; and I will praise thy name for ever and ever. Yes the God of the Torah who broke a son to die in my place. I may live now ever praising the one true God 💖🙏 Psalm 145:2 Every day will I bless thee; and I will praise thy name for ever and ever.

Do you not know any other tehillim or...?

The G!D of the Torah is indivisible and cannot become incarnate. Explain how Jesus works with that fundamental definition.

I think it’s a Christian responsibility to protect Jewish people and their nation. I don’t agree with you in rejecting the messiah. It doesn’t mean Israel is not chosen. I’m so glad my great aunt protected Jewish people from Holocaust. A lot of the Christians I talk to want to protect Israel. I know Israel is under a of attack. Let us unite in that we both love God of the Torah. I was made aware maybe I don’t understand Jewish culture (I’m not sure). I like that day ”the feast of trumpets”.

We’re not children; you don’t have to protect us like we are. And anyway, what precisely are you protecting us from? Those who would not allow us to be Jewish and practice our culture and religion? Let me know who precisely the Christians are protecting us from if not from you them.

What, precisely do you like about “that day ‘the feast of the trumpets’”? The connection to the resurrection? The idea that the second coming will occur with a trumpet? Because I hate to break it to you, that’s all Evangelical Protestant nonsense shoehorning Jesus symbolism where it doesn’t make sense. Do you know what we actually do on Rosh Hashana?

You said it was the Catholics. They are not filled with the Holy Spirit.

Oh. You’re one of those Protestants. Soteriological exclusivity is quite the drug.

It’s actually pretty tragic. The Catholics did a lot of bad things even to your family 💔. They sinned against your family.

Sure. Just the Catholics. Protestants never did anything sinful against Jews. Nice emoji use. It’s not at all contemptuous.

Not gatekeeping just seeing a pattern. Whenever I use christian apologetics on the flaws of other religions people cry for my execution (metaphorically). To Muslims I’m islamophobic if I find flaws in the Quran. To the Jewish people I’m antisemetic if i find flaws in the Babylonian Talmud which they don’t even use. Apparently finding flaws in a belief system makes people think I must not like them. Meanwhile Christians never yell Christianphobia when the religion is examined find potential flaws

Maybe it’s because you’re cherry-picking passages, taking them out of context, and outright misquoting them.

It’s news to me, an actual Jew, that we don’t use the Babylonian Talmud. Where’d you get that pearl of wisdom? When Jews talk of the Talmud, we’re talking about the Babylonian Talmud.

But hey that’s comes with the contract of following a leader who was crucified. He was crucified for finding flaws in the Pharisees who taught well but were kinda hypocritical (didn’t do the commands themselves).

Again I say: Cool antisemitism bro. Modern Jews are Pharisees. If you don’t want to be called an antisemite, don’t be antisemitic.

One person did want tell me to die so yeah the ill wishes only came from one side. I always knew I’d be crucified one day. I welcome to share in the death of the saviour🙏✝️

People pointing out to you that you’re misquoting their exegetical texts isn’t being crucified. That’s an amazing level of hubris.

Also the crucifixion of Christ is s historical fact and biblical core truths. You just admitted someone believing the bible is offensive.

Nope, @rose-in-a-fisted-glove said “... Did you seriously just try to claim to not be antisemitic while crying deicide in literally the next breath? That's just, wow.“

The Romans killed Jesus the same way they killed all other political criminals. Crucifixion was the Roman punishment for political crimes/crimes against the state. You claimed Jesus was crucified because the Pharisees (again, modern Jews are Pharisees) were upset he “found flaws” in them. That’s... do you know HOW MANY Jews found fault with the teachings of other Jews during the 1st CE in Judea? In the first centuries of the common era the main sects of Judaism were the Pharisees, Essenes, and Sadducees. They all argued with themselves and each other. Jesus, I’m sorry, wasn’t unique in that.

Like you mean Nazis tried to find flaws in Judaism too ? They didn’t stop there though they wanted to dehumanized people. I’m just doing apologetics. I’m mentioning how there was a cover up over the crucifixion of Christ. I even mentioned that the text has other outrageous claims. It ties back to the point that it’s unreliable and not many follow it. Now I can assume this might be a point of insecurity. Do you think only Nazis see flaws? Everyone can see a flaw in beliefs.

Nazis didn’t try to find flaws in Judaism; Nazis believed (and continue to believe) that Jews are racially inferior and impure. Do you really think the Holocaust was due to theological differences?

I still really want to know who taught you that Jews don’t “follow” the Babylonian Talmud. You should ask for your money back.

Of course Nazis will point our flaws. I one time crashed my friends course on genocide. I know the warning signs of genocide. It’s dehumanization. It’s silencing. It’s treating as second class.

Oh. One time. Cool. Well, then you’re a bonafide expert on dehumanization and genocide. So much so that you seem to believe that the Nazis dehumanized Jews by finding “flaws in Judaism” and not, you know, phrenology and racial pseudo-science.

I took Astronomy 101 in college; I guess that makes me Neil deGrasse Tyson.

There’s a difference between criticism and debating and being a nazi who wants to dehumanize. In seminars people debate flaws of beliefs. In apologetic posts people mention flaws they see from their perspective. So if people can mention flaws in beliefs no one gets anywhere. Why do muslims day I’m islamophobic when I point out dangerous passages about killing jewish people ? I say ”Woah there Muslim this passage says to kill jewish people! You think that’s cool ?!”. They say ”Islamophobic !”.

And you’re doing neither. And again, they’re probably calling you Islamophobic because you’re taking the passages in isolation and out of context.

Okay if some are made up lemme know which ones. But I know at least the ones about Christ are true. I can understand maybe it could be exaggerated in translation or maybe some invented. I don’t need false flaws or anything since that’s just a waste of time. And if something was made up just by Nazis I’m sorry about that part that would be made up.

What are “false flaws”?

We actually don’t know definitively if they’re about your Jesus or not. Yehoshua (of which Yeshu is a derivation) was and is an incredibly common Jewish name. Different scholars have different ideas of what and to whom those passages refer.

But assuming they (Sanhedrin 43a, Sotah 47a, Shabbat 104b, Gittin 57a) are all about Jesus? The historical context of these passages (which make up an unusually small part of the totality Talmud)?

“By the time the Talmud was coming into final form, Christianity was the dominant religion of the Mediterranean world and beyond. Negative expressions in such writings reflect negative experiences in the time of their creation. Quoting such texts without explaining these contextual influences can grossly distort one’s understanding of how Jewish tradition views Jesus.” - Jesus in Rabbinic Tradition, Burton L. Visotzky from Amy-Jill Levine’s The Jewish Annotated New Testament.

Christians were legislatively prohibiting Jews from practicing our religion or, you know, killing us with impunity. That’s the context of those passages, not abject, irrelevant Jesus hate. And on top of that, you quoted them incorrectly.

In Jewish tradition (from the Satanic Talmud) “he” and servant in Isaiah 34:11 refers to Israel the people. You know, the Jewish people in total. Not Jesus.

This is the graphic you used in this post. It literally says “Become Jew-Wise and learn more at www.national-liberation.org”

For all your talk that “Jew” is the n-word for Jewish people (it’s not), you use a graphic that says that? And that “Killing and Enslaving Whites is OK”? That didn’t scream Nazi to you?

Well Catholics aren’t Christian (they believe works salvation). I’ll let that pass for now. Christians are oppressed. Statistics show Christians are the most persecuted religion in the world stated by huffington post. We are being killed India by Hindus, in Turk ube Muslims, in North Korea. 6000+ Christians were killed in Nigeria this year alone. 1/12 Christians are persecuted violently stated by daily mail. Independent uk states the estimate is that 11 Christians die every hour of every day.

Catholics are Christian. The Protestant Reformation didn’t de-Christianize them. Sorry.

Are you a Christian in any of those countries? You seem to be an American Protestant Christian living in the United States. You are not oppressed.

You also don’t know anything about Judaism and should stop pretending you do.

#long post #no seriously #very long #and yet #somehow also barebones #just scratching the surface #skystonedclouds

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all-made-of-stardust · 6 years

Text

Think My Battery’s Running Low

Here it is, my actual complete submission to RvB Reverse Big Bang! Based on the awesome art work by @hazk (found here).

Also on Ao3

When Grif opened his eyes, the room around him was blurry. He tried to blink the fogginess away and focus on his surroundings. He hadn’t felt this awful since the last time he ate an entire jar of extra spicy salsa (without the chips because who needs chips?). The room was white, blindingly so, and he wished he had a pair of sunglasses to block out the glare. Then he saw Simmons. He was easy to spot, with his hair being that outrageous shade of red, but he looked odd. He was slumped against the side of an uncomfortable-looking hospital chair (Grif knew because he was currently sitting in one), his head cradled in his human arm. The rest of him looked…empty. Grif craned his head to try and see better and caught a glimpse of Simmons’ other arm. Correction: where his other arm was supposed to be. “Simmons!” Grif called as he moved to get up. “You’re - ” His movements were halted when he realized that he was strapped into the chair by some ugly metal restraints. What the fuck he thought. Where the hell are we? “Simmons, wake up!” Grif tried again. “We need to get out of here!” Simmons stirred slightly, groaning. “I’m tired…” he moaned. Grif rolled his eyes. “You do not get to be the lazy one. Wake up! We’re in some sort of weird hospital and I’m seriously freaking out.” Simmons finally pulled his head up and glanced over at Grif. His eyes widened and he started to rise. “Jeez, Grif, what happened to - ”

He stopped as he realized that his other leg wasn’t there. His arm was missing too, along with his left eye, which had been hastily wrapped in a bandage by somebody that was not Grif. The simple hospital scrubs he was wearing covered most of the damage, but Grif could see frayed wires and chunks of metal sticking out along Simmons’ neck. “Grif?” Simmons asked. His voice was tiny. “Where’d the rest of my body go?” “I don’t know,” Grif answered. “But right now, we need to get out of this room and find our way out of here, okay?” Simmons nodded. He was close enough to Grif that he managed to hop pitifully over to Grif’s chair and start tugging on the restraints. “Okay, we both pull on three. Ready? One, two - ” They both pulled as hard as they could, and a few seconds later Grif’s left hand flew free. He grinned and started pulling at the other one, until it too gave way. The other metal pieces were still annoyingly attached to his arms, but they weren’t imprisoning him anymore. “Let’s get out of here,” he said, and took a step forward. Instantly, he felt woozy and fell back onto the chair. “Are you okay?” Simmons asked, hovering over Grif. Grif waved him off. “Just a bit dizzy. They probably…” He tried and succeeded to push himself up again. “…probably put drugs in me or something. Look, I have two legs, don’t worry about me.” Simmons looked down at his sole leg and frowned. Grif sighed. “Just lean on me for a bit, okay? Until we can find something else.” Simmons mumbled angrily under his breath but swung an arm around Grif anyway. They took a few practice steps forward, establishing a good pace, before they managed to get to the only door out of the room. As Grif reached a hand to the handle, Simmons moved suddenly, throwing himself off Grif and pulling him with him. “Simmons, what the - ” but Simmons held his hand to Grif’s mouth to shut him up. He pointed to the door, whose small window had just darkened with an outline of a person. “Fuck,” Grif whispered. “Fuck. Of course it’s just our luck, we don’t have armor, we don’t even have weapons…” Simmons glanced around the barren room, filled with a grand total of two chairs and an ugly metal gurney. He pointed to the gurney. Grif scampered over to the gurney, leaving Simmons to lean pitifully against the wall. The gurney was made of rusted metal that just screamed Psycho-Horror Hospital, but it seemed malleable enough. Grif grabbed a loose part of it and pulled. With a loud clang, it broke off. Behind Simmons, the figure in the window turned. The doorknob began to rattle. Grif ran back over to Simmons and crouched behind the door, gripping the metal pole in his hands like his life depended on it. Simmons stayed quiet as the door swung open and someone stepped past it. Without pausing to think, Grif brought the pole down on the intruder’s head as hard as he could. The guard dropped like a stone. Simmons gasped as Grif punched the air in victory. He quickly closed the door and knelt next to the guard to turn him over. He was wearing combat gear over nurse’s scrubs, but aside from a walkie talkie strapped to his belt, he didn’t have any weapons. “God fucking dammnit.” “The hell are we dealing with, Grif?” Simmons whispered. “How many more of these guys are there?” “Look, I don’t remember how we got here, I don’t know how we’re gonna get out, but I have a pole, and we’re gonna find your body, and we’re gonna kick ass like we usually do. Right?” Simmons managed a smile. “Right.” Grif opened the door a crack and peered out. “Okay, I don’t think anyone’s coming.” “You don’t think?” Simmons snapped. “Hey, it’s the best we’ve got right now,” Grif snapped back. He pushed the door open slowly and held out his arm for Simmons. He took it reluctantly, and the two hobbled down the nondescript hallway together. It was definitely some kind of hospital. The walls were that ugly shade of taupe that’s always in hospitals, and the closed doors that they passed as they walked looked like hospital doors, with tiny windows and wide doorways wide enough for wheelchairs and beds. But the hallways wound back and forth too much, the lighting was dim and dull, and Grif hadn’t seen one single defibrillator or fire extinguisher anywhere. He tried to pretend that the place simply wasn’t up to code, instead of the encroaching reality that it was straight out of a horror movie. They had been walking in terrified silence for several minutes without encountering anybody else. Grif and Simmons both realized that, wherever they were, it was a lot bigger than they had expected. “Do you think we’re on a space station?” Simmons asked, when he realized they had yet to see any windows. “I get queasy when I’m in space,” Grif reassured him. “All the movement.” “Planets move all the time but you never get sick on them,” Simmons argued. “Maybe you can’t tell.” “Hey, I get sick on planets too! Just ask - ” “Quiet!” Simmons hissed, pushing himself and Grif against the wall. Grif gripped the pole in his hands and pretended like they weren’t shaking. “What is it?” Grif asked. Simmons shook his head. “I didn’t see much. Just a glimpse. Could be just one guy.” “Could be a ton.” Grif let his head fall back onto the wall and sighed. “Have I mentioned I hate this?” “Could be worse,” Simmons whispered as Grif tried to peek around the corner. “We could be stuck in a creepy hospital with no weapons and nowhere to go.” “Nobody there.” Grif ducked back and flashed Simmons a glare. “Wait a minute, you’re just describing our current situation.” “Exactly! We’re already at worse. We’re past worse.” “Well one, we do have a weapon – this pole.” Grif wrapped his arm back around Simmons and turned the corner. “And two, we’ve done worse shit in the past. So we’re locked in this place with a bunch of assholes. It’s probably a hell of a lot better than goddamn Freelancers.” “Don’t say that,” Simmons groaned. “For all I know, this could all be an elaborate prank by Carolina.” “Carolina doesn’t do ‘pranks’.” “Test, then.” Simmons paused. “Would she do this to us?” “She’d do this to anybody. Probably has all of us locked up in here.” “Do you think the others are here somewhere?” Simmons asked, fear in his voice. “I don’t want to - ” “They’re not here. And if they are, Sarge better the hell appreciate how precisely not lazy I’m being.” They turned a corner and found an open staircase leading down and up. “If this is a space station, the lower levels will have spaceships,” Simmons provided. “But if this is on some weird planet, the ships would be parked on the roof.” The distinct sound of footsteps echoed behind them. Grif glanced over his shoulder then back at the staircases. “I’d suggest splitting up, but - ” Simmons started. “We are not splitting up. Regardless of your current lack of a leg. We’re going down.” Grif readjusted his grip on Simmons and started limping down the stairs as quickly as he could. He rounded the turn and ducked out of sight, waiting. Several guards came barreling down the hallway they were just in. They slowed to a stop before the one in front gestured upwards. They began filing up the stairs, and Grif heard their thundering footsteps as he slowly slid the rest of the way down. He didn’t notice the guard posted at the bottom of the stairs until he backed right into him. There were a few slow moments in which the guard turned around, recognized them, and took a swing with bare fists. In that same time, Grif had dropped Simmons unceremoniously to the ground, fell into the most basic combat stance he could remember off the top of his head, and deflected the punch. He took advantage of the guard’s brief stunned look to throw himself forward and tackle him, pummeling him with every hit he could land. The guard didn’t stand a chance. After one final blow to the temple assured Grif that he was out cold, he searched the guard’s pockets for any kind of weapon that he could salvage. “Why the ever-loving fuck aren’t these goddamn guards armed?” Grif hissed. “Maybe they’re just uhhnnn…” Grif whipped around to find Simmons lolling his head, limp fingers trailing over his missing half. Grif rushed over, pushing Simmons’ head up. His eyes were unfocused. “Hey Simmons? Simmons, wake up, what’s wrong?” “I’m fine…” Simmons was slurring his words. “Landed wrong, thass all.” “Don’t give me that bullshit. Now I know you haven’t had any Blood Gulch beer in the past hour, so why are you acting like you just had ten?” Simmons fingers kept grasping at where his arm connected to his body. Now that Grif was looking directly at it, he noticed how the metal parts extended far beyond his shoulder. There were frayed wires and empty pockets where flesh and blood was supposed to be – like someone had ripped out a whole chunk of Simmons’ chest. Grif tried not to think of how close to Simmons heart those empty spaces were. “Think my battery’s runnin low…” Simmons mumbled, while Grif closed his eyes and sighed. “Simmons, please tell me those missing pieces aren’t important.” “You got me,” Simmons whispered, laughing softly. Grif gaped at him. “You’re telling me that this entire time you’ve been needing those parts and you didn’t tell me?” “Didn’t wanna slow us down,” Simmons admitted. “You idiot. You absolute fucking idiot.” Grif heard shouting from upstairs. He groaned and threw Simmons’ arm over his shoulder. “Come on. We’re gonna find the rest of your body. And try not to die while we’re at it.” They headed down a corridor that seemed slightly brighter than the rest, with smaller doors. Through the occasional window he could see desks and chairs. Grif figured they were in the administrative part of the creepy hospital, and he hoped that the worst they faced down here were demonic filing cabinets. They finally turned a corner, took one look at the hall in front of them, and ducked frantically behind a wall again. “There’s gotta be five guards in front of that door,” Grif whispered. “Whatever’s in there has got be important, right? So it’s our best shot.” “Too…too dangerous…” “Goddamnit, Simmons, you think I don’t know that? Do you honestly think that I want to face off against these guys?” Simmons gave him a pained smile. “You always would…for me.” Grif paused as he blushed, staring down at Simmons single foot. “Yeah. Maybe.” He shook his head. “What do you know, you’re drunk. Or, you’re dying, but you’re close to drunk and you can’t just say shit like - ” “Just kill them, kay?” Simmons’ grip on Grif tightened. “They…they stole my body…” Grif sighed and gently lowered Simons to the floor. “Kay. You idiot.” He readjusted his grip on the pole he was holding and took a deep breath. Just imagine Sarge is yelling at you. That wouldn’t work – Sarge was always yelling at him. Carolina. Yeah, Carolina scares me. With Carolina’s scary orders screaming in his brain, Grif rounded the corner and charged. Two of them were taken completely by surprise. Grif managed to bean them both over the head before the other three recovered. One drew a baton, but Grif blocked the swing with his pole and went for the guard’s kneecaps. He crumpled, and the two left backed up, raising fists. Finally, a good reason that they’re unarmed Grif thought as he advanced. They were quick, and Grif wasn’t. He barely managed to dodge one of their hits before another clocked him in the jaw. He spun backwards, massaging it, as the guard landed another blow in his stomach. Grif felt the breath he barely held in normal days leave him, and he almost lost his grip on the pole. He growled, and swung blindly, and hit something with a satisfying thud. Grif managed to get back to his feet and readied his next swing. “For the benefit of your friend, I would stop.” A voice across the hall made Grif stop cold. The guards stopped too, as Grif stared at a nondescript man who was dragging Simmons along the ground and holding a gun to his head. “You utter asshole!” Grif shouted, moving forward, but the man cocked the gun and he slowed. Simmons didn’t move. Grif couldn’t even tell if he was conscious. “You’ve definitely proved to be quite the patient,” the man said, taking a few steps towards Grif, dragging Simmons all the while. Grif tried and failed to quell the rage inside him at seeing Simmons so helpless. “Are you gonna finally explain why the hell we’re here?” Grif asked. “Or are you like Felix, waxing on. Hang on, this isn’t about Chorus is it? Cuz that ship kind of sailed a year ago.” The man chuckled. “All in due time.” Grif was eyeing the gun in his hand. At this point he was close enough that he could grab it, if only he thought of something. Dammnit, why do I have to be the thinker? That’s Simmons’ job. But Simmons was out of commission, and Grif knew that it was his responsibility as Minor Junior Private Negative First Class to fix this little problem. Grif stretched his arms above his head and yawned as widely as he could. “Y’know, all this escaping has made me sleepy,” he mumbled. The man looked at him in confusion. Grif flashed him a smile and then collapsed, letting his full body weight fall onto him. It took the man off guard, and he stumbled and let Simmons fall to the ground. Grif grappled for the gun and smiled as he felt cool metal in his palm. He turned from his prone position and fired, hitting the man in the chest. The two guards behind him started as he toppled, blood leaking onto a clean white shirt. Grif pointed the gun at them, and they ran down the hallway and disappeared behind a corner. “Gonna get…reinforcements…” Simmons groaned from the floor. Grif turned him over and took a sharp breath at the state of him. Something that looked like a mix between mechanical oil and blood was leaking down Simmons’ side. “Hey, hey,” Grif managed, shaking Simmons slightly. “You still with me?” “I’m always with you,” Simmons whispered. Grif tried to ignore the comment as he hoisted Simmons over his shoulder and headed into the room. Like he thought, a bunch of mechanical bodyparts were lying on a table in the otherwise empty room. Grif hurried towards them and gingerly helped Simmons onto the table. “Okay,” he whispered to himself. “Okay, I don’t really know what I’m doing. It’s just like a car, right? I can do cars.” He picked up what looked like an arm and sighed. “Hang on, buddy. I’ll fix this.” “Buddy? That’s so sweet Grif, I didn’t…didn’t think you cared.” “Of course I care, you idiot. I care that we got trapped here, I care that there’s no way out, and I care that you’re fucking dying.” He worked on attaching wires and bolting things down, the best way he could. It was kind of like cars, if the engines were all backwards and the red wires all connected to the blue. “You know, when someone’s dying…” Simmons was staring past Grif at the ceiling. His words were slowing. “They usually spill their secrets.” “Yeah?” Grif doubled his speed, worried that he wasn’t going to make it. “Yeah. So Grif…” Simmons sighed, which sounded more like a rusty faucet than anything human. Grif kept working. “Grif I don’t wanna die without a kiss…come on…” “I’ll kiss you when you stop dying, alright?” Grif was blushing now, and he fiercely shoved all emotions aside as he finished up work on the arm and moved to the leg. “I’ve just always…” Simmons eyes fluttered closed, and he sank back onto the table. “I always knew you were there, y’know?” He sighed again, and his body fell limp. Grif had to catch him and heave him onto the table. “Simmons, remember, I owe you a kiss? Don’t die on me, buddy.” Grif snapped a last piece of the leg back into place and returned to Simmons’ arm. He could hear small whirs as the cyborg parts tried desperately to come to life. “Please.” The whirring became more insistent, and Simmons let out a groan. Grif laughed and gently shook him. “Rise and shine! Come on, come on…” Simmons moved his mechanical arm up to rub at his face. “Sarge?” he moaned. “I don’t know where Grif is, I promise…” His eye flickered open and he grasped at the place where the other one was supposed to go. “Grif?” Simmons asked. “Sorry,” Grif said, hurriedly trying to find the eye in the pile of mechanical trash nearby. “No, Grif…” Simmons caught Grif’s arm. “Did you just…save me?” Grif nodded. Simmons hesitated, then blushed scarlet. “Oh god, what did I say to you, I didn’t…I mean, I did but I don’t - ” Grif responded by planting a kiss directly on his lips. He stayed there for two, maybe three seconds, before he pulled away sharply, grabbed the missing eye, and headed towards the exit. Simmons sat frozen on the table, staring at Grif. “Grif, I - ” “We need to find a ship,” Grif managed. He was trying desperately to avoid blushing too. He was failing spectacularly. Simmons straightened. “Right. Yeah. Ship.” “Can you walk?” Grif asked. It was a reasonable question. Not related to kissing or relationships or anything like that. “Yeah, I think so.” Reasonable answer. Not related to anything. Simmons rose and hesitantly tested out his leg. Seemingly satisfied, he nodded at Grif, and the two left the room. Outside, to the left, they could hear shouting and footsteps coming down the hall, and quickly. The only other way out was to the right. “Let’s go. Fast,” Grif ordered. Simmons didn’t argue. They ran, as much as Grif’s physique and Simmons’ new leg could handle. They took a few twists and turns, clambered down a few more staircases, ducking out of sight of various guards, until finally, finally, they found an area with actual signs on the walls. They followed the signs for a hanger and found themselves in a big open area looking out onto a strange landscape they didn’t have time to appreciate. “Ship,” Grif whispered, pointing at a Pelican parked nearby. A few boxes and crates were being unloaded by some scared-looking hospital workers, but there were no guards. “On three?” Simmons asked. Grif nodded and held up a finger. On the third finger, when the workers’ backs were turned, they rushed forward as quickly as they could and ran up the ramp. The cockpit was empty. “You can fly this thing, right?” Simmons asked quietly. “Of course I can fucking fly it!” Grif hissed back. “Just get strapped in.” A few minutes of poking buttons later and they heard the ramp close up, the workers shouting protests down below. Grif flashed a grin at Simmons as he maneuvered the Pelican towards the exit and floored the throttle. They went shooting past everyone and everything, out into the alien landscape. Grif tilted upwards, and they were flying into space, away from wherever the hell they had been. “Grif, that was amazing, that was – uh, well…” Simmons looked briefly at Grif before turning away, blushing. “That, um…that kiss, back there? That was just for fun right?” Grif paused. “Well, you kind of asked for it.” “I did not – did I?” Simmons was blushing even harder. It made him look adorable. Grif smiled shyly. “Yeah, dude. And I wasn’t about to deny a dying man’s last wish, so…” “So…” “Yeah.” They both stared out into space. Simmons reached out his mechanical arm. “Thanks. For, y’know, saving me.” Grif took Simmons’ hand. “Yeah, no problem, dude.” “And, well, um….for the kiss.” Grif glanced over at Simmons. He had ducked his head but he wore a shy, hesitant smile. “Yeah. No problem.” Grif squeezed Simmons’ hand, and they both gazed out into the vast expansion of space together.

#my fiction #rvb #rvb reverse big bang #hazk

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wildcardwriting · 6 years

Text

Cardcaptor Prompto #1

[FFXV x Cardcaptor Crossover]

Next Chapter | Cardcaptor Prompto on AO3

In which Prompto is most definitely not a magical girl boy even if the flying plush lion says he is. 40% Humor, 10% angst, and 100% reason to be done with everything, Prompto is on a mystical adventure two years before he meets Noctis.

The Cardcaptor/FFXV crossover no one asked for and my horrible little deep dark secret, that will never be clawed away from me.

Chapter One

Prompto is one hundred percent sure he didn’t agree with this. Really sure. Admittedly, he may not know where he is after he escaped his newest batch of bullies, and he may have just picked a random abandoned shop to run into to lose them. But he most certainly didn’t agree to this....whatever this was.

“Who are you? And what going on? Where’d the wind come from and, and....” He panic yells in absolute horror hoping beyond hope that the floating lion stuffed animal thingy is just one of those weird dreams he sometimes gets after a particularly bad attempt at cooking. He’s had plenty of those. But from the aggravated face the plush is making and the very chilling wind that’s going through the dilapidated bookstore he’s pretty sure he’s not dreaming. His dreams don’t normally include changes in weather no matter how strange they are.

“Are you done freaking out, now?” The lion asks without a lick of sympathy. Because apparently, he’s the problem here, and not the freaky little stuff animal that apparently can move on its own.

“How can it I? Is this magic? And what happened to those Cards? What is going on here?” Prompto asks close to pulling his hair out. “I was just trying to get away from some bullies, and I accidentally toppled over a shelve and your book fell out and most of the cards vanished and now there’s a talking stuff animal and magic and--” If Prompto was freaking out before that was nothing compared to how close he was to a mental break down. He was talking to a stuffed animal.

He’s gone insane.

“It's okay kid. Calm down. Everything will be fine.” Kero reassures him hugging his cheek. Man, and he thought Sakura had taken it badly, this kid was just so freaked out that Kero felt horrible. “I’m an old pro at this. Just breath, you can do it. In and out. In and out. You’re doing good kid.”

“Oh my god,” Prompto mutters, his face in his hands even as his minds racing through everything that just happened because apparently magic and stuff animals are still a thing he has to deal with. Has to think about.

How is this his life?

Prompto has to take a few deep breaths before speaking.

“W-Who are you? And what’s this about magic and cards?” Prompto asks, his voice an octave higher than usual even as he tries to calm himself down. He’s not quite calm yet, but he’s getting there the more he thinks about Tiny and his magical dog powers.

He’s seen the little puppy do some strange things the few days he'd stayed with him, so this is nothing. Nothing.

Strangely though, the thought seems to work. After all, if there are magical dogs, why not magical stuff animals? Hell, the royal families are just normal people who have magic if he really thinks about it, so this is normal...ish.

Normal.

“I am Keroberos, Guardian Beast of the Seal of the Clow Book, and you kid, are its new Cardcaptor.”

Prompto blanches. “I’m a what now?”

The panic, which had nearly gone away is back stronger. Because he may not be the sharpest tool in the shed but even he knows dealing with magical cards is probably way more then he can handle. Hell, he can’t even deal with school, and that’s something he's supposed to be able to handle. Magical cards are definitely not a task he can accomplish. At all.

Because he doesn’t have magic.

“I can’t capture the cards! I don’t have magic,” Prompto tells him for lack of anything else to say as the situation really starts to sink in. Because if this whole conversation has been any indication, this is not going to end well for him. He doubts his lack of magic will stop him having to find and collect the Clow Cards though. But he’s going to try because he cannot handle this.

Kero looks at him rather suspiciously. "I doubt that. Far as I can tell you have magic, star magic if I'm not mistaken, kid...hey, what your name?" The lion--Kero says arms crossed as if the topic of him having magic was far less important than the question of his name.

Prompto groans.

Forget it. He's just done.

"Prompto," He mutters "My name's Prompto Argentum." He says slumping to the floor. "Can you explain what's going on?"

Kero nods. "So it works like this Prompto..."

xxxxxxx

Prompto had hoped the explanation would clear up something of his confusion or the outrageous of the situation but somehow, in the span of ten minutes, his life has managed to flip itself on its head and completely contradict everything he knows about magic. (Which admittedly isn’t a lot but still! There should be a limit to the ridiculousness of the situation.)

The cards were created by this super powerful magician years ago, but they got out of hand and were sealed in the book--that Prompto dropped, and if he doesn’t re-capture the cards, they could destroy the world. So because Prompto opened the book (even accidentally) he has magic and must find the cards because it's his responsibility.

And oh my god he’s just doomed the world, hasn’t he?

Kero hugs him again. “Hey, stop freaking out kid, everything is going to be alright. Seriously!”

Prompto seriously doubts him but takes the comfort anyway because he needs to feel better if he even wants to attempt to right this mess that he accidentally created. He’ll deal with the idea of his having magic later, right now he needs to think about other things, like getting home.

Oh the six, how was he going to get home?!

XXxxxxXX

Author’s Note: Probably continue this later, but here’s something to read in the meantime.

Next Chapter | Cardcaptor Prompto on AO3

#final fantasy xv #prompto argentum #fanfiction #cardcaptor sakura #Crossovers #ff15 #final fantasy 15

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taizi · 7 years

Note

If you're looking for kitanishi prompts, how about Natsume thought they were dating and gets worried he's wrong because he thinks he can't understand social cues. Cue kitsnishi pairing realizing they kind of were dating lol

It starts with an invitation.

One of Satoru’s classmates at cram school invites him to go outwith her and a few of her friends over the coming weekend—and sincesome of them would have dates with them, he’s more than welcome tobring his girlfriend along!

The problem:

Satoru doesn’t have a girlfriend. Satoru is terminallysingle.

He could cancel, but he wants to go. He couldshow up alone, but that would be all kinds of awkward—especially ifhe was the odd man out, especially if they wereexpecting him to have a date.

So he puts his brilliant mind to work in coming up with asolution.

“Natsumeee, what do I do?” Satoru is sprawledpiteously across Natsume’s desk. “I need your advice, man.”

“Go by yourself?”

“Natsume! I need better advice!”

Natsume eyes the book he was reading, trapped under Satoru’s arms,and visibly gives up on the idea of extracting it before the idea caneven half form in his eyes. Instead he sighs and leans back in hischair, accepting Satoru’s dilemma as his own. They’ve come a long wayas friends.

“Honestly, Nishimura, why ask me?” the heartthrob of year twoasks obliviously, pushing dusty blond hair out of his eyes. “I haveliterally no experience when it comes to this. I’venever been on a date.”

Satoru narrows his eyes at him. Somehow it’s even more annoyingthat Natsume is so sincerely clueless about how stupidly popular heis. Satoru has no idea how to verbalize this, so he settles forglaring quietly.

“Besides,” Natsume adds, unmoved by Satoru’s expression, “Ifigured you’d just go with Kitamoto.”

Satoru sits up slowly, staring. “Uh. Why would I go withKitamoto?”

Natsume looks uncertainly back at him. “Because you’re datinghim?”

“What.”

There’s an impasse of stark misunderstanding opening between themlike a yawning chasm, and Natsume visibly retreatsback into his little socially awkward shell like some kind of giantskittish hermit crab. Satoru watches him go, totally bemused.

His face is red, hands tangled anxiously together in his lap, eyecontact a thing of the past.

“I just assumed—I’m so sorry—”

“Dude, it’s okay, I just—have no idea where that came from?”

“I’m really, really sorry—”

“Natsume, seriously. Stop apologizing or Tsuji’s gonna think I’mbullying you—oh, great, here he comes now.”

Satoru leans back in his chair when Tsuji stops by the desk, andwatches Natsume’s face as the pale boy hurriedly assures their classrep that all’s well. Natsume was wrong, obviously,but it’s not like Satoru's mad about it. Natsumedoesn’t have much experience in being sociable or having friends(which is an ugly thought, and Satoru hates that it’s true) so itmakes sense that he sort of read the cues wrong. It’s no bigdeal, not even worth thinking about.

But he’s thinking about it. Tuning out the conversation going onright beside him and staring without seeing out the window.

Thinking about what cues Natsume read, and how hepossibly could have read them wrong.

“You’re not wrong,” Tsuji is saying calmly, in stark defianceof Satoru’s innermost thoughts. He tunes back into the conversationsharply, watching Tsuji pat Natsume’s shoulder comfortingly. “Youpicked up on the same cues everyone else did.”

Wait, what?

“Wait, what?” Satoru sits up straight, more than a littlegobsmacked, and stares at Tsuji, who stares right back. Natsume is a shade of pink Satoru has never seen on him before, but it doesn’t look like he’s about to die of humiliation or try to crawl under a rock or something. Compared to the Natsume they started with, this is progress.

“Nishimura, come on,” Tsuji says. “It’s obvious.”

Outraged, Satoru squawks, “No it’s not! What are we even talkingabout!”

Tsuji gives him literally the dryest look ever. Honestly, Satoruhas seen his own mother look more enthusiastic thanTsuji does right now. He’d be impressed, if he wasn’t so busy beingoffended.

“You, my friend,” Tsuji says kindly, even leaning over to puta caring hand on Satoru’s arm, “are an idiot.”

“Sorry for intruding!” Satoru says cheerfully as he steps intoKitamoto’s little apartment. Kitamoto’s mom is at work, but his dadand little sister greet him warmly from the living area as he followshis friend to his bedroom. “Hey, you’re sure it’s cool if I stayfor dinner?”

“'Course I am,” Kitamoto replies easily, setting his bag down.“You know you’re welcome whenever. My parents pretty much consideryou one of theirs.”

It warms Satoru up from the bottom of his heart to the top, and hebeams widely as he sinks onto Kitamoto’s bed. For all that his ownfamily hardly has time for him, he’s never felt unwanted here.

“So what’d you wanna talk about?” Kitamoto asks, climbingonto the bed beside him. Satoru can think of probably a hundred othertimes they’ve sat just like this, in the comfortable dim of thefading daylight as it reaches through the bedroom window. “And doesit have anything to do with why Natsume couldn’t look me in the eyeafter school?”

“Oh, jeez, I told him it was fine.” Rolling hiseyes, Satoru settles into storytelling mode. “I told him about howI needed a date for this weekend, and he told me thathe thought you’d be my date.”

Kitamoto goes still. His expression doesn’t change, not really,but his smile is a little fixed. And maybe it’s the weird lighting inhis room, but Satoru suddenly doesn’t recognize the look in his eyes.

“Oh yeah?” his friend says, sounding completely normal.“Where’d he get that idea?”

Satoru blinks at him. There’s no way to brush the weirdness off,pretend he didn’t see it. Kitamoto, and every tinyunacknowledged thing about him, all those little facets of hischaracter that no one else would notice missing if they were gone—allof those things are the most familiar things to Satoru in theentire world. He knows it, Kitamoto knows it.

The forced smile fades. Kitamoto looks away, facing the rest ofthe room, and rubs a hand through his short hair.

They’re close enough that their shoulders bump, that they’d benose to nose if they turned towards each other. Instead they sitquietly, side by side. Like two parallel lines, always on the samepage, always in perfect tandem, and somehow, somehow, nevermeeting in the middle.

Satoru’s heart is beating a little harder. He faces the room, too.

He celebrated his thirteenth birthday right here.

Kitamoto’s mom made a cake, and Kitamoto and Mana both helped. Itwas lopsided and the frosting was grainy with a little too much sugarand the strawberries mysteriously disappeared before they could haveanything to do with the decoration, and to this day Satoru wouldswear in front of god and everybody that it was the best birthdaycake in the world. He and Kitamoto took their slices back to hisbedroom and ate them right where they’re sitting right now,cross-legged on the bed and grinning with their mouths full and beinggenerally loud and teenage boy and stupid, and Satoru felt so fulland so loved that he didn’t want to go home that night.

He never wants to go home from here. Not evennow, when something uncomfortable fills the familiar air between themfor the first time that Satoru can remember. But—

“Maybe you shouldn’t stay for dinner,” Kitamoto offers, in asmall voice. It sounds like an out, but Satoru can’t tell who for,and he’s stunned by it either way.

“You want me to leave?”

The silence that eats up the seconds after that is bleak anddisarming, and he’s frozen in some terrible combination of shock andhurt and shame. He wants, for a moment, to ask what he did wrong. Themoment comes and goes before he can work up the nerve, so he doesn’task.

Moving mechanically, Satoru stands up and stoops to pick his bagoff the floor without another word, heading towards the door.Kitamoto catches his eye as he closes it behind him, and somethingawful happens to his expression the second he sees whatever Satoru’s facelooks like.

“Oh, wait. Satchan, wait.”

He doesn’t wait.

He hears Mana’s alarmed “Satoru-nii? What happened?” as hegrabs his shoes and all but falls out the front door, but he doesn’tturn around. Doesn’t even stop to pull his sneakers on. Just takesthe stairs three at at time and sprints down the street, because he’sabout three, maybe four seconds away from totally dissolving intostupid tears, and he needs to get gone before that happens.

Touko looks ready to cry at the sight of him. She takes theawkward bundle of jacket, shoes, and bookbag out of his arms, andhurries to get him house slippers while he waits in the genkan,calling up the stairs for Natsume as she goes.

He tries to apologize precisely one time for showing up soabruptly this late in the evening, and Touko hushes him soundly.

“You’re welcome anytime,” she says, tone firm, and Satoruswallows a lump in throat.

Thumping footsteps on the stairs announce Natsume, and Tanumaright behind him. Natsume’s eyes are bright with worry already and hereaches out to Satoru as carefully as he always does, testing thewaters inch by inch. He’s so much like Touko that she could haveraised him herself, the way he’s so thoughtful and earnest ineverything he does, and Satoru saves that thought to smile at later.

For now he blurts, “Don’t look at me like that unless you wantme to start bawling, okay, I swear.”

Tanuma follows Touko into the kitchen to make tea. Natsume takesSatoru’s hand to lead him upstairs, even though he’s been here amillion times and knows the way just fine.

But he takes Natsume’s hand when it’s offered, and allows himselfto be drawn inside. In Natsume’s room, with a fat cat purring in hislap and Tanuma’s hoodie forced over his head, Satoru squares hisshoulders, takes a deep breath, and says, “It was obvious toeverybody but me.”

It doesn’t take more than a few seconds for Natsume to parsethat statement and find the meaning behind it. His eyes widen andthen go soft, all liquid sympathy and understanding and fondness.

Which turns out to be all it takes for Satoru to finally crumple,and he does; burying his face in his hands and giving into loud, uglytears.

He doesn’t know how to be stoic and level-headed and calm, likeTanuma and Taki and Kitamoto. He doesn’t how to make thishurt lesser.

“Tsuji was right,” he sobs, rubbing his eyes with the trailingends of Tanuma’s sleeves. “It was so obvious, and everybody knewbefore me, and I hurt Kitamoto, ‘cause I’m an idiot.”

Natsume moves closer, and puts an arm around his shoulders. Heisn’t one to initiate contact, not really, and all the hugsSatoru’s ever got from him have been on his own terms. But Natsumeholds him tight, and presses his cheek against Satoru’s hair.

“Tsuji didn’t mean it,” he says gently. “You know that. Andwhatever happened with Kitamoto—it’s fixable, I promise.”

“But how do you know?You don’t even know what happened. For all you know, I ruinedeverything, forever.”

Natsume hesitates to answer rightaway, because for all his earnest and caring he’s still brand new atthis; then the bedroom door slides open and the answer comes in theform of Tanuma, stepping through quietly with a tray of teacups.

“You have company,” he saysvaguely, which is an odd thing to say—Natsume knows he has company,Satoru is his companyand he’s sitting right here?

And then at the same time Satorurealizes Tanuma was talking to him, Kitamotostaggers into the room right behind him.

Satoru freezes. Natsume exhalessoftly, and draws away; lingering long enough to take Nyanko-senseiout of Satoru’s lap, he offers Satoru a warm smile and moves to joinTanuma beside his desk on the other side of the small room. Satorufeels distinctly abandoned, even though they’re hardly more than anarm’s length away. And it’s not like they left him to fend off abear. Just his wheezing best friend, whose doubled over with hishands braced on his knees, like he sprinted twice the length of townin the last twenty minutes.

“Went to your house first,”Kitamoto pants. “That was stupid.”

“Well, yeah,” Satoru says.

Kitamoto straightens when he’smore or less caught his breath, and for a moment that something awfulflits through his expression again when he looks across the room atSatoru, the same way it did before. And sure, Satoru probably lookspretty pathetic, since he just got done crying like a four year oldand his eyes are puffy and gross and he’s in a hoodie two sizes toobig, but that doesn’t mean Kitamoto has to look athim like that.

Then the painful expressionshifts into pure, stark irritation, and he jabs an accusing finger atSatoru in a way he’s entirely unprepared for.

“Why the hell did you run offlike that?” Kitamoto snaps. Natsume and Tanuma are watching the exchange with wide eyes. “Dad thought we had a fight andlectured me for five mintues about how I should treat my friends.”

Affronted, Satoru surges to his feet.“What do you—you kicked me out!”

“Um, I seem to recall giving you anoption of staying or going,” Kitamoto bites out furiously.He seems more frustrated than truly angry, and more frustrated athimself than Satoru, but it’s all coming out in a fuming tirade. “As ifI’d ever kick you out, come on.”

“Okay, listen, when your choices areA: Something you obviously want, and B: Something you obviouslydon’t, it’s not a choice, it’s a trap.” Satoru canfeel his eyes burning again just remembering that alien feeling ofunwelcome, and he ignores them; doing his best to glower asforcefully as Taki when she catches him stealing out of Natsume’slunch. “So when I obviously want to stay, but you tell me Ishould go, I’m supposed to, what? Read between the lines?”

Kitamoto throws his hands up. “Yes!”

“That was a rhetorical question! Youknow I can’t do that!”

They glare at each other some more. There’s maybe four feet between them. Distantly, Satoru is aware of Natsume all but dragging Tanuma out of the room.

Kitamoto says, “Come here.”

Satoru crosses his arms, to better pretend his hands aren’t shaking. “No. You come here.”

In two quick strides, he does.

It’s kind of weird, standing there in Natsume’s bedroom, in Tanuma’s hoodie, kissing Kitamoto, who he had never imagined kissing before today.

It stops being weird somewhere between the third and fourth gentle press of his best friend’s mouth against his own. And whatever Satoru had imagined before, in lieu of this, absolutely pales in comparison.

“So,” Satoru says lamely, swinging their joined hands a bit as they walk, “Some friends invited me out this weekend. Said I could bring a date. Wanna come with?”

Kitamoto gives him a dry look. Satoru offers his most winning smile.

“I should say no,” Kitamoto says, deadpan, “just to make sure you learn something from all this.”

“Acchan!” Satoru squawks. “Dude, come on! As my boyfriend, you’re like, obligated to do all the date stuff with me so I don’t have to do it alone! That’s one of the perks!”

They bicker most of the way back to Kitamoto’s house, but his hand is warm where it’s wrapped around Satoru’s. And his smile is even warmer, somehow, each time he pauses to lean down and kiss the indignation off Satoru’s face.

#natsuyuu #natsuyuu fic #kitanishi #kitamoto atsushi #nishimura satoru #my writing #anonymous #i dont know what happened send help #natsume yuujinchou

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solivar · 7 years

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WIP: Ghost Stories On Route 66

aka the one in which Hanzo is an expatriate art student, Jesse is a NPS ranger with a number of unusual skills, weird stuff is going down in the New Mexico desert, and their lives collide in the middle of it.

Now featuring 100% more Genji Shimada, World’s Most Wildly Overprotective Little Brother.

Hanzo turned his face to the cloudy, light-pollution washed sky and closed his eyes as the evening breeze washed over him. It was perceptibly warmer in the city than it was out on the high desert, but still cleaner than the air of nearly any other city he’d ever breathed, and he drew it deep into his lungs, once, twice, thrice. On the third, he expelled it with a silent prayer for the intercession of his ancestors, preferably all of them, hopefully at least Grandmother Hanako, who until the hour of her passage from the world possessed the ability to defuse any form of about-to-explode much younger Genji right up the point of detonation. It was that sweet and gentle nature he needed right now, the precise words necessary to calm and soothe, the iron-spined powers of almost courtly decorum necessary to avoid having a screaming argument with his little brother on the doorstep in front of who knew how many neighbors and/or housemates. Because that would, of course, be the absolute perfect way to end a day that was already sprawled out insouciantly on its side giving reality an assortment of rude gestures.

He turned to face Genji and found him standing in a physically contorted state trapped almost precisely between flailing limbs-akimbo outrage and fists planted on his hips primarily to avoid strangling anyone outrage. The result was more than vaguely disturbing to the human eye and seemed to involve far more joints that he actually possessed. His hair, recently re-dyed the nature-insulting shades of acidic green he favored, looked as though he had spent a considerable quantity of time alternately tugging at it in a transport of some strong emotion or smoothing it back down in an effort to avoid broadcasting said transport to any observers without any particular success. His face was a mask of mutually contradictory emotions, his eyes were bloodshot in a manner that strongly suggested a lack of sleep instead of chemical mood enhancement, and his eyelashes were stuck together in the sort of spiky clumps they developed only when he’d been crying and he was still crying, there were tears in his eyes, and Hanzo dropped his bag and threw his arms around his wonderful, terrible little brother and embraced him tightly. “Shhh. It’s all right.”

Genji’s return embrace seriously compressed his ribcage and nearly lifted him off the ground with the force of it, his brother’s voice ragged in his ears. “You’re alive you’re alive where have you been I’ve been so worried I filed a missing persons report --”

“Genji,” Hanzo wheezed perhaps a bit more dramatically than was strictly necessary even given the circumstances, “I need air. And a missing persons report? You called the police?”

His brother let go only enough to relocate the force of his grip from ribcage to shoulders and Hanzo was absolutely certain he was going to have a couple Genji-hand-shaped-bruises in the morning. Some of the half-crazed intensity of emotion had bled from his face but his eyes remained bright -- irridescently glittering lit-from-within green as well as tears, an altogether dangerous sign. “Four days, Hanzo. You have been gone for four days. I was expecting you home Saturday at the latest. So I ask again: where have you been? And also: who was that and how badly am I going to have to maim him?”

My car broke down in the desert, something nearly ate my soul, he’s an NPS ranger too beautiful for this world please do not kill him. It was on the tip of his tongue to say it, driven by the force of his brother’s fear, and the only thing that kept the words behind his teeth was the knowledge that there were all exactly the wrong thing to say, particularly the soul-eating bit, which he was completely certain Genji would not accept with anything resembling serenity no matter how many mind-altering substances he might be consuming at any given time. Neither was he going to let it go, the grip on his shoulders tightening, eyes narrowing a dangerous fraction, and Hanzo reached for the first semi-reasonable explanation to come to mind and blurted out, “I -- I -- was enjoying what I was doing and lost track of time!”

The look that took up residence on Genji’s face was equal parts I cannot believe you just said that, aniki and WHAT mixed liberally with oh fucking no you didn’t. “Hanzo. Discovering you have a great deal in common with one of your classmates on the first day of the semester and spending two hours aimlessly wandering the quad talking is enjoying what you were doing and losing track of time. Spending an hour contemplating the menu at Starbucks while trying to work up the nerve to make a pass at the hot new barista is enjoying what you were doing and losing track of time. Driving out into the desert and disappearing for four fucking days? That is something else entirely and I’m vaguely insulted you even tried to pull that on me and for fuck’s sake I was about to call home and tell mother to start watching for ransom demands.”

“Genji, I was in no danger.” Except for the point where YOUR SOUL was almost eaten, the rational voice of rationality remarked, dryly, apparently in league with the self-destructive desire to tell his brother everything. “My car broke down -- I walked to one of the ranger stations. I stayed with him a few days until the arrangements to retrieve my disabled vehicle could be made, and then he brought me home.”

“And you enjoyed that.” And there was the world’s most sarcastic human making himself known.

Hanzo shrugged slightly, Genji’s grip on his shoulders loosening enough that the gesture mostly dislodged it. “Not the breaking down and walking through the freezing desert in the middle of the night, no. Everything else? I managed to get quite a bit of work done and the ranger was excellently helpful and completely professional the entire time we were together.” He bent, picked up his bag, and schooled his face into what he hoped was a serenely competent mask sufficient to cover a gigantic sack of barely believable lies. “I’m sorry I frightened you -- I lost cellular service and -- “

“She couldn’t find you, Hanzo.” Genji whispered, fiercely. “I asked her to find you and she said you were gone, you were nowhere, I thought the police would find you lying dead somewhere -- “

“I would not do that to you.” Hanzo snapped a glare at him, equally fierce.

“I know that.” Genji did not quite reach for him again, though it was a near thing. “And the world continues to be graciously oversupplied with other ways for everyone to leave it.”

“I do not know why she couldn’t find me.” Hanzo could not meet his brother’s eyes and speak that lie at the same time, instead opting to step past him toward the door, head down as though watching his step. “As I said: I was perfectly safe. It has, however, been a very long few days and I want nothing more than my own bed. You cannot imagine how uncomfortable ranger station cots are until you’ve had to sleep on one involuntarily.”

“Yes I can.” He could feel the weight of Genji’s stare laying between his shoulderblades like the tip of a knife. “I let Zen drag me up to that commune outside Angel Fire. I’m pretty sure their beds are Works Progress Administration surplus from the ‘40s. The nineteen-forties.”

Hanzo chuckled, politely, thumbed open the front door and was promptly bowled back onto the steps by the force of the charge that greeted him.

“You’re home!” Hana Song was, like his brother, a student in the tech end of video game design. Unlike him, she had absolutely no hesitation when it came to hitting him and so she did, and with a startling amount of force for someone that weighed perhaps a hundred and ten pounds soaking wet. “Do you have any idea how worried we’ve all been, you jerk, you lousy inconsiderate jackass, you -- “ She stopped, glared up at him, and yanked him inside. “Let’s not do this on the front stoop. Genji, are you coming?”

“Hana, let it go. He’s not dead and he apparently hasn’t been shacked up with persons unknown, either.” Genji stepped in and closed the door, casually deflecting the killing glare that Hanzo flung in his direction.

“Oh, so Person Unknown is free and clear then, hmm? Good, because from what I could see he was a stone fox. Where’d you find him?” Hana gave him a quick hug in apology, gears shifting as quickly as that, and snatched the object Ranger McCree had pressed into his hand on their parting. “Oh -- oh holy crap. He’s a park ranger? Are you serious?”

Hanzo snatched the object -- a card -- back and physically resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Car broke down, he rescued me, drove me home, perfect gentleman, I would like to go to bed now.”

“Oh, it’s perfect gentleman and not completely professional when you talk to her about it?” Genji asked and now Hanzo found himself resisting the urge to spin hard enough to smack his wonderful, terrible asshole brother firmly in the gut with his bag. “There’s a not inconsiderable difference between those two things, brother.”

“No there isn’t.” Hanzo replied and, fuck it, introduced his bag to Genji’s midsection in a fashion not entirely unlike a hip-check. “In any case, yes, he is a real park ranger, he was extremely kind to me, I had not noticed his appearance, I am entirely sorry I worried you all, and now I am going to go upstairs, take a shower, send a number of groveling emails to my professors, and then go to bed. If that is acceptable to you two?”

“I think we should get Lu and Zen down here and make a family vote of it,” Hana crossed her arms over her chest but nonetheless stepped aside at his growl. “You haven’t heard the last of this, Hanzo Shimada. You, of all people, don’t get to go galavanting off for whole days at a time and then stroll back home without a reasonable explanation -- “

Hanzo leaned over the second story balustrade. “Genji does that literally all the time.”

“That’s Genji!” Hana shouted back. “You are the grounded and responsible Shimada sibling, and if you two are going to switch personalities you can’t do it at random, there needs to be at least two weeks written notice!”

“I’ll keep that in mind for the future.” Hanzo shouted down from the third floor landing.

“Be sure you do!” Hana shouted back. “Seriously, are you going to call him back? Because if you don’t call him, I totally will. I want a look at that in broad daylight.”

“Good night, Hana.” Hanzo stepped into his room, closed the door, dropped his bag, took the pillow from his bed and screamed into it for five minutes because, sometimes, there was literally nothing else to do if he wished to retain even a modicum of sanity.

Then, because he was indeed the grounded and responsible Shimada sibling, he turned on his holo-terminal and wrote the requisite groveling email of woe and dismay that went into exquisitely embroidered detail about POS rental cars, wandering through the desert at night pursued by coyotes, and the almost total lack of cellular service out in the hinterlands beyond the city limits, which he then forwarded to the four professors whose classes he had involuntarily cut, checked the queue to make certain that the art history paper he had finished last week was still set to go out first thing in the morning and sat, staring, at the little white rectangle of plastic laminate Ranger McCree had pressed into his hand. Plain white bordered in vivid green (National Park Service/US Department of the Interior), the inverted arrowhead seal, his name and contact information (Jesse McCree, Education Liaison, Special Incident Command at Cerrillos National Monument, address, cellular code, email). The laminate coating caught the dim light of even his holoscreen and refracted it in a now-familiar geometric pattern, the card feeling warmer in his hand than could be accounted for even by a transfer of body heat and, without meaning to do so, he pressed it to his lips and slipped it into his underwear drawer, where he was reasonably certain Hana would be completely unwilling to go fishing should she come looking for it. He almost started a second email but acknowledged, if only to himself, that it was considerably beyond pathetic to write a man who had merely been doing his duty, even the outstandingly weird parts, particularly when he didn’t actually have anything to say. At least for the moment. He had a week-long course of medicine to take and he realized that he was, even more pathetically, hoping that whatever it was wouldn’t work so he’d have the excuse.

“You are an outstanding coward of the highest possible caliber,” He informed his reflection in the upstairs bathroom mirror as he stripped out of the borrowed sweats even as he acknowledged them as another good reason to contact the ranger again -- they were only borrowed, after all, he couldn’t keep the man’s clothes. “Hello, Ranger McCree, this is Hanzo Shimada, you know, the one whose soul you saved from being eaten? I would just like to meet in order to return your tee-shirt and sweatpants and would you possibly also like to have dinner? Perhaps coffee? I promise I will keep my housemates and brother as far from you as humanly possible and once this exchange is done we will never have to see one another again and could you be any worse at this, for the love of the gods, stop.”

“Hanzo?” The voice on the other side of the bathroom door belonged to Tekhartha Zenyatta, his brother’s constant companion in dubious sobriety and bendy activities that could probably get them arrested in at least thirty states and seventeen foreign countries. “Are you well?”

“I’m fine, Zen. Just talking to myself.” Hanzo replied, and turned on the water in the shower. “My apologies if I disturbed you.”

“Not at all, my friend.” A warmly melodious chuckle from the hallway. “If you wish to speak, know that I am here for you.”

“Thank you, Zen.”

He should, he supposed, have a slightly more antagonistic relationship with the man who was arguably corrupting the quite thoroughly and voluntarily corruptible morals of his younger brother, but somehow he couldn’t find it in himself to work up any serious quantity of animus for the Tekhartha. For one thing, he couldn’t look at the man without perceiving him as some sort of elegant, kindhearted, slightly baked at all times praying mantis, who looked out at the world with enormous jewelled eyes and saw a bunch of people in dire need of enormously gentle talk therapy, palliative massage, and huge quantities of psychoactive recreational chemicals designed lubricate the interaction of minds and bodies with other minds and bodies. Sometimes literally. And therein lay the problem: Zen was an actual trained clinical psychologist underneath the doofy exterior and if there was anyone in the house to whom he would, through accident or design, give up the whole something freakishly weird happened in the desert and my soul was almost eaten and somehow the ranger saved me and I have no idea how to feel or what to think about any of this thing it was most definitely him. Possibly over tea. No, check that: definitely over tea. Hanzo made a mental note to take his medicinal beverage alone in his room if at all possible.

That night, at least, it was possible: by the time he finished cleaning up and went downstairs to the kitchen, the common areas were devoid of life. A faint trace of haunting melody drifted down from above, testament to the presence of Lucio Correia dos Santos, their fourth housemate, who was likely as deep in the process of musical composition as he ought to be in the process of visual composition. The absence of Genji and Zen from the sitting room, where the holotank and all the entertainment systems were located meant they were likely upstairs, entertaining one another somewhat more athletic ways. The absence of Hana from the same meant she was cramming for a midterm, having laid in a supply of snacks and energy beverages some time before.

He extracted the package from its anonymous plastic bag wrapping, feeling entirely too much like an operative in an action movie just before the villains came crashing in through the windows to steal is laboriously acquired intelligence or, possibly, like a teenager about to open his first stroke mag purchased under plain brown wrappers -- entirely too nervous by half and for no good reason. It was medicine. It was medicine. He absolutely was not about to drink something prescribed to him by some unknown person living in the middle of a nowhere who was close personal friends with a smoke monster and the world’s most desireable park ranger.

“It’s medicine, not a drug,” He told himself, as he examined the tiny, elegant, single-serving tea bell and the tiny, elegant tin, outside etched in a delicate swirling mandala in a dozen shades of blue, the lid covered in a freshly printed sticker written in a language he couldn’t read but which was, he knew from a couple hundred credit hours worth of art history classes, probably some form of Arabic. He firmly ignored the voice of rationality that insisted on pointing out drugs and medicines were exactly the same damned thing.

He snapped a picture of it and asked his phone for a translation, which it provided after a moment of taxing its little computer brain. For the restoration of weakened bonds between spirit and flesh, it said. Take one cup daily for seven days, preferably before sleep. Instructions: steep one teaspoon of the loose mixture in a cup of hot but not boiling water for no more than three minutes. Jesse tells me that you are a gentle, wounded soul who came by your injuries through no fault of your own, and for this reason I will tell you that the addition of a little honey and lemon will not harm the therapeutic qualities of this blend at all. May the Merciful and the Just stand between you and harm in all the empty places where you must walk. Brewed, it smelled wonderfully rich and herbacious, a deep green-golden color even before he added a dollop of honey. He admitted to himself, after the first sip, that it probably didn’t need the honey: he couldn’t place any individual flavor but the way they blent together on his tongue was delicious beyond any other herbal infusion that he could recall, the perfume of it filling his head with every breath.

He put the tin in his section of the kitchen cabinets and set the cup and the tea bell in the sink for the morning, feeling the tug of sleep on his limbs and head and eyes already, knowing he might just fall asleep on a landing if he didn’t seek his bed at once. He was out before his head touched the pillow and that night, when he dreamt for the thousandth time of coiling sky blue scales and air that tasted of the oncoming storm and lightning-stroke eyes that weighed him and measured him and turned away, he felt the contemptuous weight of that silent judgment slightly less.

#WIP Ghost Stories On Route 66 #I promise I'll fix the italics in the morning

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tangledboysandfracturedgirls · 7 years

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Part III: 2/7/17

I headed back upstairs (I knew the way now) and Aaron followed me (no doubt getting a full view of my naked butt—as the t-shirt did a poor job of covering my bottom). At the top of the stairs he playfully grabbed my butt and confirmed my suspicion that he had taken in quite the view.

“Hey!" I squealed.

“What?" He said with an innocent look.

I turned towards his room and felt him grab my ass again.

“Aaron!" I said turning towards him with mock outrage.

“What? I couldn't help myself." He smiled at me and pulled me in for a kiss, taking full advantage of the fact that we were face to face. We made out for a while and by the end I was pushed up against the hall wall with his hands around my butt (and creeping towards my bare vagina).

“Stop." I said, realizing that the hallway wasn't the most private of locales for a hook up.

“What? He's not going to interrupt." Aaron said, referring to his father no doubt.

“Your dad might not interrupt us, but Chopper might." Lord knows the teasing that would ensue.

“He's also probably passed out somewhere. Like father like son." Aaron said, hungrily bringing my mouth to his and kissing me again. The kissing distracted me from my self-consciousness, at least for a while.

“Seriously, Aaron." I said, pulling away from his kiss.

“Fine. You're no fun though." He teased, picking me up by the bottom, and carrying me into the room.

He gently lay me on the bed, expertly removing my shirt in the process. He then began kissing a path towards my vagina (to presumably engage in the skipped oral). My prediction proved accurate as Aaron kissed his way around my thighs. I felt his tongue trace my lips, lingering on my clitoris. The straightforward approach from before had disappeared, replaced with a devotion to detail with which I could not argue.

Aaron's skilled oral pleased me so much the orgasm surprised me (much like falling asleep only to wake up and feel like you had only just fallen asleep). I cried out in pleasure (as I am wont to do).

“You weren't wrong about being loud." Aaron said, bringing himself up from between my legs.

“Sorry." I apologized breathlessly.

Aaron laughed. “So it was good?”

“God yes. Wonderful." I said kissing him (he only slightly tasted like my vagina).

øøø

I awoke to a bright room, filled with sunshine. I must have fallen asleep in the afterglow of my orgasm, which, given Aaron's skill, should have been expected. Aaron's bedside alarm clock read 5:27am. I knew myself well enough to know that I couldn't fall back asleep and I didn't feel like pretending to sleep for the next three hours (or until Aaron awoke), so decided to leave (and avoid an undoubtedly awkward morning).

I found my belongings with relative ease, got dressed, and slipped out of the Dawson's house without waking Aaron or Mr. Dawson (fast asleep and unmoved from his spot at the table).

I checked my phone as I exited the house. I had two new messages.

10:15pm (unknown) Hey, it was great seeing you. We're having an after party if you and Steffi want to drop by..

That must have been from Cliff and he probably assumed I would text back to get details regarding the after party. The best course of action would be to ignore the text and not respond, hopefully sending Cliff the signal that I wasn't interested in rekindling our one night stand (a. the sex wasn't really that memorable or good in the first place, and b. it was summer and I was on an island full of tan, toned beautiful boys who didn't go to Cortlandt or know anything about me).

11:53pm Steffi Taylor's sleeping over tonight

I read the subtext of Steffi's text, meaning: “if you come home early please sleep on the couch, as Taylor and I will be fucking/hooking up in our room." Luckily I had the foresight to check my messages before getting back to the Holland's and crashed on the sofa as soon as I entered the house (as Taylor would most likely still be with Steffi, and I didn't want to cock block).

øøø

My phone buzzed.

11:30am Aaron Where'd you go?

Right, Aaron. I forgot that I had left him in a slightly ravaged state and effectively alone. I didn't remember exchanging numbers, meaning it probably happened at Taylor's party whilst blacked out.

11:31am Me Back to the Holland's. Sorry I woke up and couldn't fall back asleep.

I let my anticipated awkwardness of the morning after fall in between the lines.

11:31am Aaron Okay. You could have woke me up...you didn't need to sneak out.

I must have hurt Aaron's feelings by sneaking out without saying “good bye” or “good morning." I couldn't help it. After a semester of one night stands, the morning sneak out/walk of shame had become second nature. Most guys didn't care that much and agreed that leaving without saying anything was preferable to a stilted conversation (but I guessed Aaron didn't fall under “most guys”).

11:32am Me Sorry—I just thought it would be easier.

11:33am Aaron Okay. We're good though?

11:33am Me Yeah, last night was fun.

11:34am Aaron We'll have to do it again.

Yes, I had a good time the night before and enjoyed having sex with Aaron, but I wasn't quite sure I wanted to fuck him again. I kind of just wanted to have a summer of fun (and debauchery) without having to think about anyone else. Instead of responding to Aaron, I sent a text to Steffi (as the house was surprisingly quiet).

11:35am Me Hey—I'm back and on the sofa in the living room...

“Marge?" I heard Steffi yell from upstairs (evidently easier than texting).

“Yeah?" I yelled back up, too tired to move.

“I'm coming down!" She let me know before descending the stairs. “Hey!" She joined me on the sofa. “When did you get back?”

“At like six? I got your text so just crashed down here." I explained, omitting the fact that I semi-snuck out of Aaron's.

“Did Taylor wake you when he left?”

“When was that?”

“Around nine.”

“Not at all. I was out cold.” I had experienced a delayed onset of drowsiness. I was wide awake at Aaron's, but as soon as I got to the Holland's sleep found me again.

“Oh yeah? Tired from last night?" Steffi teased, clearly wanting to know details.

“Yes. We had a good time. Aside from the weirdness of Mr. Dawson being passed out at their kitchen table when I went downstairs to pee, pants-less I might add.”

“OhmyGod! That's so awkward.”

“Yeah. It was weird enough that he was passed out at the table, and Aaron like didn't do anything, let alone me not having pants on during all of this. I mean at least he was passed out and didn't see anything? As terrible as that is to say.”

“I know what you mean....So you guys had sex?”

“Yeah. It was just like whatever, but then he went down on me, and that boy has some serious skills. It was really great." I smiled, remembering the night.

“Aw good! I love you two together." Steffi said, unable to hide her joy. “Not that you're together. He's just a great guy and I don't know—you deserve someone like him, especially after all the bullshit with Matty this past year.”

She didn't need to bring up Matty, as I was still sensitive about anything regarding him. “Enough about me. How was your night with Taylor?” I asked, casually shifting the subject of the conversation to her.

“I think I really like him. I know I said I wanted to be single this summer and really experience the single scene on the island, but I might have to change that.”

“Really?" She sounded genuinely serious about pursuing a relationship with Taylor.

“Really. We get along so well and have tons of attraction, but like, there's no pressure or anything. Last night we just cuddled and talked. He met us at the party and then it was late by the time we left, so I suggested he stay here since it would have been a pain to bike home at like 4am.”

“That's adorable." I could tell from her disposition that Steffi was back in the relationship mentality (her single phase, evidently short lived).

“It really is. And then this morning we hooked up a little. We haven't had sex yet—not that I haven't wanted to, but he's like adamant that we not have sex for the first time while drunk. He like wants to plan something special. I feel like it's my first time all over again." Josh had planned a romantic weekend at the Holland's shore house for their first time. They had the house all to themselves and he surprised her with all of the cliché accoutrements: chocolate covered strawberries, roses, etc. It was quite the contrast from my first time with Matty (but I don't think I would have liked that kind of ceremony).

“You've hooked up though?” I asked for clarification.

“Yeah. I gave him head this morning. He was so appreciative and like polite about it. It was so different from the boys at Cortlandt." Steffi had experienced a bad hook up with Nick from the Nine Men. They had a great time and seemed to be on the same page (just a make out hook up), but Nick had other ideas and tried to push Steffi's head down to give him a blow job. She didn't, but the incident had incited anti-blow job fervor.

“Really?" I asked, surprised that she made an exception to her “no blow job unless dating” rule for Taylor (a guy she barely knew).

“Yeah. I wanted to and the fact that he was fine with just making out and cuddling just sealed the deal." She explained.

“That's still adorable." I had to agree that there was something about foiling fellatio expectations.

#tangledtuesday #theshore #hookingup #relationships #dating #college #party #jerseyshore #thebeach #summerbreak #endlesssummer #drunk #frat #summer #themorningafter

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solivar · 7 years

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WIP: Ghost Stories On Route 66

aka the one where Hanzo Shimada is an expatriate student of the Fine Arts, attending college in what he assumes to be a reasonably sedate corner of the American southwest. Jesse McCree is an occasionally leather-clad NPS ranger whose duties extend somewhat further than shooing lost tourists back onto the clearly marked hiking trails. Something weird is going on in the desert south of Santa Fe and their lives unexpectedly come together in the middle of it.

Now featuring 100% more Gabriel Reyes, terrifying smoke monster mother hen, subtle declarations of mutual affection, and Hanzo having a terrible, horrible no good very bad sequence of days.