#like surely you'd rather read about it in the story than just dig it up in some random lore post on the author's blog? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

moodymisty · 2 years

Text

Under the Moon

Authors note: We interrupt my current clone posting for some Moon Knight content, enjoy. There's a part 2 to this coming soon, I'm over halfway done with it.

PART 2 (only loosely part 2, as these can be read totally separate as well)

Summary: Khonshu realizes you have an affinity with the moon, and unlike you, doesn't care about what Marc and Steven might think.

Relationships: Khonshu/reader (could be platonic or romantic, but I intended it with sprinkles of romance)

Warnings: None, unless you count Khonshu being a brat

Words: 2571

AO3 Link

Steven had almost jumped out of his own shoes, the minute he’d heard those words.

“I’ve always had an interest in Egypt; The stories of gods and their deeds were always super interesting to me. Especially when I was little.” An interest sparked from early school that graduated into history books and novels, you remember one book that you’d taken everywhere with you until its pages were worn from loving use. You still had it around somewhere, hidden on a bookshelf safe from dust and dirt.

Steven leaned closer onto the kitchen counter with an almost child-like eagerness, excited to hear another’s opinion on his favorite topic of interest. He rubbed the corner of his eye before eagerly asking you what was the first of surely many questions.

“Do you have a favorite? Everyone has a favorite god; I mean, I did- All those ancient priests would’ve have pledged themselves if they didn’t have favorite god, right?” Though this doesn’t really sound as good of a question now that I think about it...” The snap cookies you’d placed on the counter were already devoured, though you’d reached for one blindly and gotten only air. With nothing to munch on, you settled for another sip of tea instead.

“Oh geez, um… I remember doing an old report in school on Anubis, but I’ve always loved reading about the sun and moon gods.” Steven’s brow noticeably furrowed, curious but also hesitant to dig further. The mention of Khonshu brought up, a lot of memories for both of them. You hadn't really even realized what you'd said until you saw his face change, but it was too late to backpedal.

“If you’re trying to get yourself some brownie points, it, doesn’t really work with the gods like that. Not that I know them all; Just, just a few.” You laughed, pursing your lips into a nervous smile and shaking a hand to wave off his worry; Despite him chuckling and wearing a shaky smile. It wasn’t the first time he’d mentioned Khonshu, and you doubted it would be the last. You were far too deep into this rabbit hole to pull back now.

“No, it’s not that; I,” Your eyes darted to the side for a moment, locking on nothing in particular.

“I grew up close to a pretty big city, so for most of my childhood I didn’t know what the sky really looked like. I’d always read about how Khonshu could move the moon and the stars, how he made the first maps of the sky.” Warm fingers twitched against the mug as if repeating a motion you’d barely remembered.

“One weekend I went camping with family, and for the first time I actually saw what the sky looked like. All the stars, how bright the moon really was.” Looking down at the cooling tea in your mug, you failed to notice how Steven was looking at the area surrounding you, rather than your face.

“I’ll never forget that feeling; How close to the sky I felt.” Fading from your memory and looking forward, you realized that Steven’s eyes were wider than normal, darting around. You quickly grew nervous that you'd gone on to long of a tangent, pursing your lips.

“What? To much theatrics?” You turned your head to look back on both sides before giving a jokingly embarrassed smile.

“No, not at all; It was just, a surprisingly sweet explanation.” Judging by the way Steven seemed, it was a little bit more than that. But you chocked it up mostly to mentioning Khonshu, even if not directly. You’d heard enough from them that it was understandable why they might not want to relive much of it.

It seemed however that Steven was treading a bit more murky water than you were currently, looking to the side and pursing his lips tight.

“Sod off, it’s not that big a deal.” Steven nodded, face distinctly moving through multiple emotions-listening to Marc. You were getting quite curious as to what the conversation was about, funnily enough. Though more than likely it was at least adjacent to you bringing up the moon god. You were almost tempted to ask, before Steven’s voice suddenly rose.

“I’m not-I am not saying that to her!” That got you to furrow your brow, confused and turning your head just enough to flick your eyes and look at the area behind you for a moment again. Well now you were really curious.

“Maybe you should sit down; And I’ll just avoid bringing up Khonshu; Like ever again.” Steven shook his head and brushed some hair from his face, though most of it fell back once his hand pulled away.

“He’s out of our life now, and that’s all that matters to me.” That filled you with a bit more comfort knowing there wasn’t an out of sight deity judging you, but it also dug up a bit of begrudged curiosity.

You had more than a few questions, but Steven and Marc were clearly in zero mood to answer any of them. Not they would likely ever be in much of a mood to talk about Khonshu; Even with more complacent Steven. But you just couldn’t help that curious part of your brain, reliving childhood memories of reading Egyptology books under your covers with a light.

You took one glance towards the windows close to your kitchen, seeing the dimming sky outside, before deciding to make another kettle of tea.

Steven had left later that evening back to his own apartment, leaving you to have a late night snack alone and enjoy a replay of one of your favorite movies. Once it rolled credits, you decided to head to bed before there was a chance for you to get distracted by something. The last thing you needed was another all-nighter. Eyes beginning to strain and your blankets sounding incredibly comfortable, two fingers hooked into the handle of your mug to pull it off the coffee table as you got up from the couch. It was the only unclean dish in your apartment now, so you'd just clean it and head to bed.

Walking to head and put your mug away, the hardwood was cold against your bare feet. But when you passed by the window you stopped, abandoning your path to the kitchen sink.

The window was locked with one latch that was easily undone, pushing it up to completely open it with one hand. Still holding the mug you leaned against the windowsill, elbows against it and poking your head and shoulders outside. The fresh air was cool on your skin, a late spring’s breeze. It was all normal; A few people on the sidewalk, a stray cat, the sound of a car alarm. Though they all faded away as you leaned your body out slightly more, looking upward.

The stars looked, clearer than normal. You wondered if this was how the gods were used to seeing them. In the city they were normally cloudy, hidden away behind streetlights and thousands of running cars, but now, they seemed almost as clear as when you'd first seen them as a kid. The pulled curtains brushed against your shoulder, but you barely noticed as you watched a plane fly by, almost completely hidden between hundreds of stars.

“Do they look beautiful?”

You almost fully screamed but the breath got choked in your throat, knocking your mug and almost sending it out the open window; Though you managed to bump it enough to send it tumbling onto your floor, instead. Thankfully it was empty, and rolled across the hardwood leaving no mess.

“W-What? Who-” The room was completely empty, the only noise curtains rustling and the sound of your TV on an extremely low volume in the corner. You turned around and quickly looked around for the source of the voice.

“The stars, little one. I’m talking about the stars.”

Hands parallel to your chest, the slowly lowered as you finished your scan of the room. Before you realized you had the answer-it couldn't be anyone else-and spoke out to the empty room.

“Khonshu?”

You voice had almost been a whisper, testing if there was someone truly there.

“Was there another god on your mind?” Quickly your head darted to the left, the direction of your kitchen, and saw nothing. The rustling of fabric jolted your head to the right.

It was there you saw him; All ragged linen wraps and skull almost hitting your ceiling, standing and looking down on you. And clearly expecting some sort of answer.

Don’t panic, don’t panic, they told you about him, it’s fine... But why is he even here?

Your heart still was pounding against your chest as if looking for an escape route, but at least you’d managed to hold back another scream.

“No; I was, I was just surprised.” Khonshu let out a hmm that sounded somewhat displeased, but ultimately didn’t try and refute your claim. You did however, glance out the window quickly to see someone looking around, surely distressed by your quick scream. Once they’d scurried off to avoid whatever fate they had thought you’d gotten, you turned to face Khonshu again.

However, he had moved locations; And when you looked to where you’d last saw him, he was gone.

The soft sound of metal ringing from contact turned your head back to the window.

He was sitting on the railing of your fire escape when you turned your head, long legs dangling just past the base of the platform.The end of his staff had gently clanked against the metal flooring, still held in his hand. You swallowed another gasp, catching in your throat like a frog. If Steven and Marc hadn’t talked about Khonshu before, you weren’t sure you would’ve been this calm.

Thankfully however, Khonshu seemed in a more tepid mood than they had usually described him. His long beak slowly crooked from looking over the city skyline to more towards you, when your voice broke the silence.

“How did you know what I was doing?” Sure, you were friends with his 'former' avatar, but that didn't exactly seem like reason enough.

“You called to me. And I decided to humor you.”

Thinking about the moon and the gods, had called out to the him?

“It’s, that easy to summon a god?” His torso turned more towards you now, his staff tilting forward.

“You were not summoning anything; I came of my own accord.”

You weren’t sure if that made it more or less clear, as to his intentions tonight. Then again, if one thing had always remained the same about written texts of the gods in all religions; It was that they were fickle and unpredictable.

And as such, Khonshu seemed to disappear again, though you had a distinct feeling on the back of your neck that told you he more than likely wasn’t quite gone yet. Either way, you still spoke largely to yourself when you looked up at the moon. It was a crescent moon, and shined a surprising amount of light into your apartment.

“It feels like I can just, touch it. The moon feels so close.” Wind whipped your curtains; Tossing your hair.

“Then it seems I was correct about you, as much as it will piss those idiots off.”

You didn’t even want to think about Marc and Steven right now, and how they’d surely go absolutely furious if they knew you were speaking to Khonshu.

They’d worked quite hard to get Khonshu out of their life, and you didn’t think it would be quite right to pull him back in.

“What do you mean ‘being right’?” Khonshu having just vanished into smoke, dispelled into the cool evening air, you didn't instantly get an answer. Part of you wondered if what you said had somehow come across as insulting-even if it didn’t make sense to you. Not that it would matter in the end, as you’d more than likely never get a straight answer.

When you turned around away from the window however, you nearly smacked right into Khonshu’s stomach.

You had to re-catch your fear, flexing your fingers and trying to forget the way your heart tensed at the sight of a nearly three meter god. Your apartment’s lack of light cast him in dark, apart from the light from your window, and TV.

It was bizarre, the way he seemed so utterly inhuman and terrifying, but also completely hypnotizing.

“You have quite the affinity to the moon little one, one that could quite well prove powerful.”

“Powerful for you, or me?” Khonshu adjusted his stance, his staff coming up off the ground momentarily before gently hitting the ground again. You wondered if the people in the apartment below you could hear it.

“Both. Not many still pray to the gods, let alone believe in them as you do. Faith gives us power; And not an insignificant amount.”

Crossing your arms and watching as frayed linen wraps floated around the moon god, you tried to make sense of the whole situation unfolding before you. While you’d made sense of some, you realized he had said he thought you had some sort of ‘potential’, implying he hadn’t been sure. Wouldn't that be something he'd instantly know? Or want to be sure? Given how often you spent around Marc and Steven, even before they'd ditched Khonshu, you'd have thought the god would've noticed something in you; Provided he'd wanted it at the time.

“Why’d you come and speak to me if you weren’t sure I had this, ‘affinity’, you’re so keen on?”

Khonshu leaned in close enough that had you pushed your face out just a little bit more, your nose would’ve hit the tip of his beak.

“Call me curious.”

He quickly leaned back after, either not noticing or not caring the way your eyes widen at his sudden intrusion on your personal space.

Either way it seemed he was finished speaking to you, the wind giving a quick howl as it slipped through your window and into the apartment.

“I will return when the moon is full. Do try to not get into any sort of trouble with the idiots, will you?”

Walking past your right shoulder he was mostly out of your line of sight when you felt a heaviness on your shoulder. His large, bandaged hand glided across your shoulder for only a moment, before leaving with him as the god vanished into smoke.

The whole experience left you feeling wholly empty, as if already missing someone you’d only just met.

Deciding to finally pick up the empty mug and put it away, you soon thereafter closed the window you’d been looking through.

Walking into your bedroom and closing the door behind you it took only a few minutes to change into something better for sleeping, pulling back the covers on your bed. Before you slipped in, your eyes glanced upward, looking at the window with your curtains closed.

Taking your knee off the bed and walking over to it you pulled the curtains back, the room lighting up more as you opened the window. The fresh air quickly swept through, bringing a comfortable cool along with it. Light poured through onto the floor and the foot of your bed, making no need for any sort of other light. Satisfied, you got into bed and pulled the covers up to your hip, and closed your eyes.

#moon knight #khonshu #steven grant #mywriting #reader insert #reader #khonshu x reader #khonshu/reader #khonshu reader

260 notes · View notes

shadow-pixelle · 7 months

Note

special challenge- each of these needs to be answered with a different fic

🌀

🌤

🌩

🌪

☔

Ooooohkay! Big ask. Let's see if I can do your little extra challenge too while I'm at it, I've probably got enough stuff.

Under a read more, because oh dear god this got long so quickly.

So for the portal; I'll go with 'something I haven't written yet', rather than haven't posted, because when it comes down to it I have no idea if I'll write something, but anything I've not posted I'll post eventually, so yeah.

The fic is called Run (Yourself) To Death, it's a Danny PhantomxDC crossover, it was one of the first things I came up with for this fandom, and is a solid 90% the fault of Clockwayswrite's A Broken Sort of Normal because that's what introduced me to the 'quick death' ship and I found it very very cute. Idea was that Wally West doesn't end up dead after the big twister thing from Young Justice (I don't remember enough about that show to give more details) and instead sort of... falls sideways, I guess? Into a natural portal to the Infinite Realms riiiiiight as he also fades into the Speedforce and kinda ends up in this very fucked up state of not-quite-Halfa but not dead but not alive either, no connection to the Speedforce, and a developing Ghost Core. The entire story would be focused on Danny finding him and trying to help him get back to his reality, which is really really hard, and takes several years, ending with them in a relationship and also Wally as a super liminal/basically a Halfa by the time they figure it out.

I'm not entirely sure if I'm calling it Run Yourself To Death, or just Run To Death, which is why the 'yourself' is in brackets.

Sunny cloud!; favourite piece of dialogue... ok, I've got a few WIPs ongoing at the moment. Normally I'd go with the one closest to being posted, buuuuuut that fic has no dialogue. So I'll go for the next one on that list, which is Strange Aeons, the Tumblr fic.

(I spent a solid like, half an hour looking through my various WIPs trying to choose a line, because I couldn't for the life of me decide on one that I liked enough.)

“Wait, so if you’re not- related, or whatever, to the Lazarus Pit, then what are you?”

I mostly like this one because of the cliffhanger-ness of it. It's not the last line of that segment, but it's pretty close to it.

For the thundercloud; something funny/cracky from your WIP. This is hilarious, because my WIP 1 isn't really funny- or well, it is, but more in the context of irony, and WIP 2 is. Uh. Not there yet. WIP 3 and WIP 4 both have some alright ones, so I'll take this one from Parhelion, because why not.

That scent was incredibly familiar. "Did you traffic me to yourself?" He asked, incredulity too strong for nervousness. "You haven't been trafficked." Wayne replied automatically, before stilling. "Excuse me?"

Tornado! Or as it appeared on my screen, cloud with a ghost tail. Sum up a WIP with a few fic tropes/AO3 tags. Uuuh ok. Let's use Ornithology for this one, because it's currently my main WIP. I'd sum this one up with Found Family, Cryptid Batfam, Gotham City Is Weird, Gotham City Rolls With Everything, and Wingfic as my main ones. I love this fic so much. It's nearly complete, too, which is a yay.

And finally, umbrella rain. Is there a fic concept you have that you'd like to just explain and share because you're not sure you'll ever write it... hmm. Ok this is a fun one for me, because usually if I have a fic concept, I intend to write it, no matter what? But I've definitely got something somewhere that's so old that I probably won't end up writing it just because I've got so much else to write...

digs into the box of WIPs and ideas

Ok let's pull out two fun ones that I have in this old as fuck list- specifically ones that I actually remember what the fuck that note means (looking at you, 'guitar riff bad life decisions (also AA)' like what the fuck does that mean Past Pix. What the hell is that.)

So one of them is labelled as 'Tarre Kamino aka fuck the SW timeline'. I mostly remember this one because I started writing this, and it is in fact the reason I have a Word document with my own Star Wars timeline in it, because I got so sick of trying to figure it out via the wikis that I made some guesses and made my own. I didn't write more than maybe a scene of it because it was all driving me mad, and also I couldn't figure out where to go with things, but the idea was that the Force Ghost of Tarre Vizsla is on Kamino fucking around and finding out, and basically doing his best to keep the clones safe in the face of gestures at common fanon Kamino stuff and also like, the amount of rage he's got at Jango Fett and the other Mandos on planet. Cool idea, could not figure out where to go with it aside from probably having him interact with Shaak Ti at some point, but I had a solid 10 years to get through to get there and was lost.

The second one is 'Kamino is v angery (4546B)', man I love my naming system for things, and this one had No Plot Just Vibes. Fans of Subnautica may recognise that little number-letter combo at the end, the idea was literally that Kamino had once been the planet 4546B from Subnautica. The only real idea I had to go from there involved the Leviathans, specifically the Sea Emperor, but I had no idea what I wanted to do with it outside of that.

Maybe I'll come back to them sometime.

looks up wow this is a long post, huh. Damn. Hope you enjoyed hearing all these rambles, and ta very much for the ask! It was fun to go digging through things for quotes and stuff.

#ask game #emoji ask game #fic writing #writing #strange aeons au #ornithology dc au #parhelion dc au #wips #my wips #long post beware #goddamn i had a lot more to say about this than i realised huh #fun stuff though

4 notes · View notes

luna-themoonie · 1 year

Text

Chapter One

A Raven and a Bat to See the Light in One Another

I also have this story posted on Ao3, Fanfiction.net, Quotev, and Wattpad if you'd rather read it on any of those websites!

Summary: It was only meant to be a stupid game of dares, 'The King's Game.' But, of course, nothing could go Stan's way. Cartman thought it would be hilarious to get under everyone's skin with his stupid dare and he did. Now, Stan had no way of getting back with Wendy because he was stuck with this dare.

Butters didn't care too much about the dare in its entirety. Stan was a cool guy and maybe they could get closer. He didn't see anything wrong with this dare from Eric. But, oh boy, if his parents knew, he'd sure be grounded. After this dare ends, he and Stan could still be friends, right?

What was the dare?:

Stan and Butters were forced to date for two months.

~~~

The scene takes place at Tolkien’s new place.

It was a party that Stan was invited to. One being thrown by Clyde.

As much as he didn’t want to go, he figured it wouldn’t hurt to go for a few hours. Stan decided to go with Kyle, well, more like dragged him along so he could relax a bit. He’s been holed up in his room, overworking himself with his studies. He knew it would be far-fetched that Kyle would want to stay for the entire duration of the party, but he had to try.

By the time they reached the party, people were already piled inside while others lounged outdoors. As they both exited Stan’s Honda, Stan heard Kyle mutter complaints under his breath about being there. They both trudged their way to the large house and shimmied their way inside.

The music was loud, people were laughing and drinking, and drinking games were being played. Stan made sure to keep Kyle beside him, knowing that if he had a chance, he would dip out with someone else. He wrapped his arm around his shoulder and led him to the kitchen where he was sure the drinks were going to be. Stan motioned for Kyle to choose his drink as he began to dig through a nearby cooler.

Kyle got to work on his drink while Stan cracked open a can for himself. He looked around the small group of people in the kitchen. A group of four were trying to chug down as much alcohol as they could and a couple was making out in the corner. He looked back at Kyle who was now adding ice to his drink. “Do you think Wendy’s here?”

Kyle glanced over at him, one of his eyebrows raised in question as he took a sip of his concoction. “Why?”

Stan shrugged. “I just want to talk to her.”

“For?”

Stan huffed. “Why does it matter?”

Kyle rolled his eyes. “Dude, you need to get over it. She’s made it clear she doesn’t want to be with you anymore.” Kyle had his eyebrows knitted together as he stared down at the drink in his hand.

“Thanks for your support,” Stan’s sarcastic comment earned a glare from him.

“You know what, I’m leaving.” Kyle slammed his cup down on a nearby table. “I’m not going to stay here just to hear you bitch about Wendy.” He shouldered Stan out of his way. “I have to get back to my applications anyway.”

Stan felt his body run cold. He grabbed his best friend’s arm to stop him. “No, wait. I’m sorry, Kyle. Don’t leave. You’re stressing yourself out a lot more than you need to. Just relax a little.” Stan could see Kyle clenching his jaw. “If you still want to leave after an hour, we can.”

Kyle pulled his arm away. “Fine,” He turned back to face him, “but if you mention Wendy one more time…”

“Okay, okay.” Stan held his hand up to stop him. “I got it.”

Stan did as he promised and held his tongue about Wendy for the rest of their time there. And sure enough, as long as he did, Kyle loosened up more bit by bit. Though, that came to a quick end when they met up with Cartman, Kenny, and Butters. Knowing Cartman was there made Kyle visibly tense. Stan, not wanting him to leave, placed a hand on his shoulder, gently massaging it to show that there was no need to fight with him again.

Of course, Cartman had a sneering remark to say to Kyle, there was no way there wouldn’t.

Kenny brushed Cartman away from the two and placed a sloppy kiss on each of their cheeks with a, “Hey, dudes! You showed up!”

Butters gave the two a large smile and a small wave. “Heya, fellas!”

The group of five stayed together for the remainder of their time, though as many times as they tried, they couldn’t shake off Cartman. The longer they stayed, the more people they found to interact with - Red, Craig, Tweek, Annie, and so on. Stan kept on glancing around for a familiar ravenette but didn’t dare share that fact with his best friend. Instead, with every look without the girl in sight, Stan took another gulp of his beer.

Soon enough, Kyle began to complain to Stan about being there, and so, their time came to an end. Stan and Kyle began to say their ‘goodbye’s’ to their friends and began to find the two hosts of the party.

They made their way up the stairs where Clyde and Tolkien were. Leaning against the second-floor railing, looking over the party. Tolkien seemed to be getting more and more annoyed the closer Stan got.

Once they reached them, Stan spoke up. “Hey, dudes. We’re gonna head out now.”

“Head out?” Clyde’s eyebrows knitted together in worry. “No, no. Stay for a little longer.” He turned to Tolkien. “Please, Tolkien.”

He rolled his eyes. “If you really want to do that, we’re gonna have to end the party now.”

Clyde groaned and stomped his foot like an angry child. “Fine.” He pulled out his phone and began to quickly type away.

Tolkien turned to Stan. “Just wait a few minutes when everyone leaves. Clyde wants us to do something and he won’t stop crying about it.”

“I don’t do that!”

“Mmm-hm.” Tolkien turned back to look over the party. “Everybody! Listen up!” The party slowly dwindled to a silence. “This party is ending in ten minutes, I need you all to go! Take the rest of the booze if you want, I don’t care, just leave!”

The crowd didn’t take long to disperse either to different parts of the house or outside of it. Others came up to thank the two for the party, though, the more people did, the more annoyed Tolkien looked. To Stan, this meant this party was planned and done by the brunette without his permission.

Soon the house was empty, though now revealing a mess. Tolkien sighed. “Clyde, you better clean this up.”

“No probs!” He looked over the edge and Stan looked along with him to see some others popping back in and heading up the stairs where they were. Standing around them were the members of ‘The Boys’ and ‘Those Guys.’

“Okay, we stayed. What did you want, Clyde?” Kyle asked.

Clyde looked at him with a large smile. “I want us to hang out!”

“Hang out?” Stan looked behind him to see Bebe reach the top of the steps. He gulped and tried avoiding making any type of eye contact with the girl who followed behind her. “Is that all you wanted?”

“I have to go home though,” Wendy told them. “I need to finish my report.”

“Yeah, me too,” Kyle chimed in.

“Oh, come on, guys,” Clyde whined. “We haven’t hung out in forever. Let’s, like, actually hang out, not just sit next to each other during lunch. Let’s do something fun!”

“No way, dude,” Craig immediately shut down the idea.

Stan narrowed his eyes at him. “Like what, Clyde?”

Clyde looked at Stan as if he had just saved his life. “I was thinking ‘Truth or Dare!’”

“‘Truth or Dare?’” Kyle commented with a sneer. “We aren’t kids anymore, Clyde.”

“Yeah, Clyde,” Red commented, popping up from behind Craig. “We aren’t kids.”

Clyde looked like a kicked puppy. “Oh… Okay…”

She wrapped her arm around his shoulder and pulled him close. “Hey, don’t be sad. ‘Truth or Dare’ is for middle schoolers. We need a better game.”

Clyde immediately perked up. “Like what?”

She poked his nose. “You’ll see.” She turned to Tolkien. “Tolkien, you gotta room for this stuff?”

He shrugged. “We could go to the basement.”

She snapped her fingers and pointed at him with a finger gun. “Perfect. To the basement, we go.”

“I’m not staying,” Wendy spoke up, aggravation in her voice.

Red rolled her eyes. “Alright, fine. You can leave.” She elbowed Tweek’s side, making him yelp, and ‘whispered’ to him obnoxiously loud, clearly so Wendy could hear. “She was a stick in the mud, anyways. We don’t need her to have fun.”

Wendy’s face grew aflame. “No, I’m not!” She turned to the stairs and made her way down them, but instead of leaving out through the front door, she went through a different door under where they stood, presumably the basement.

Red laughed. “Works every time.” She began to push everyone towards the stairs. “Now, you all go wait in the basement. Nichole, you come with me.”

Nichole nodded and stayed by her side as Red made the rest of the group go down the stairs and towards the basement.

“What are we even gonna be doing?” Kenny asked.

“It doesn’t matter.” Red began to push Stan and Kenny, the last two, towards the basement stairs. “You all go downstairs and Nichole and I will meet you down there.”

Stan shook his head, now amused. He decided to play along to see what she had come up with. He made it to the bottom of the stairs and looked around the basement. It was clean, so Tolkien had probably crossed the area off from others when the party was going on. Stan and Kenny walked passed by Cartman, sitting on a recliner, and Wendy, sitting on the ground near the coffee table. They both made their way to sit on the couch where Kyle was. Stan sat himself besides Kyle while Kenny sat to his left.

Are you ready for this, bitches?” Red questioned as she suddenly appeared at the bottom of the stairs. She now wore a backpack that wasn’t with her before. Nichole popped up behind her with a small cooler in her hands.

Nichole began to pass around drinks from the cooler. Stan decided to settle on a bottle of another beer.

Red sat herself down at the coffee table and set the backpack down. She began to dig through it and pulled out a red solo cup and a handful of sticks. She placed the sticks inside of the cup and held it for everyone to see. “First and foremost, this is called ‘The King’s Game,’ and what the king says is absolute.” She poured the sticks out from the cup onto the table before looking around and pointed to everybody one at a time, including herself. “Okay, there are fourteen of us, so,” she began to number the sticks from one to thirteen, “there are thirteen sticks that are numbered, but one of them,” she held one up that had a drawing of a crown, “represents who is the king.” She placed the sticks back into the cup with the markings at the bottom. “All we have to do is to pick a stick without looking and that’s who you represent. Before we find out who the king is, we all have to say, ‘who is the king?’ You guys understand?”

The responses she got were more uncertain than anything.

She sighed and continued. “Say, the king is Kenny and his dare is someone to kiss somebody else. He can’t say anybody’s name specifically. He would have to say, ‘I dare three to kiss six,’ and the people who drew those numbers have to do what he says no matter what. You get it?”

“So, uh, it’s really just a game of dares, but you don’t know who is getting dared?” Butters asked.

“Exactly!” Red pulled a sheet of paper from her bag. “Okay, before we start, we need to set up some rules. How far are we going to go sexual-wise?”

“Not at all.”

“Wendy, that’s not an option.” She wrote down in bold letters: ‘RULES’. She began to write some things down. Probably some of the game’s natural rules. “So, kissing? Do we all agree on that?”

Stan thought kissing was fine. He didn’t see any problem with it, but as he looked around the room the number of guys made him a bit anxious. He didn’t want to kiss any of them, especially Cartman. The thought alone made him nauseous, and not in a good way.

“No,” Craig spoke up. “We don't agree.”

“Oh, come on, Craig. Don't be a big baby.”

“Nobody is kissing me or Tweek.”

Red groaned. “It's not like we're going to know who is who.”

“I don't care.”

“Ngh, I don't mind,” Tweek said, meekly. Everybody looked at him with surprise. He noticed this and tried not to look at anyone. “It won't mean anything to me because,” he looked towards Craig, “I only love you.”

The girls all ‘awwww’ed’ at the scene.

Craig closed his eyes for a moment before sighing. “Fine, only because Tweek is fine with it.”

Red gave a small pump of her arm in triumph. “Cool, now what about certain groping?” Everyone gave a different reaction. She sighed before saying, “Are we gonna see some dick and puss or not?”

“I'd honestly rather not anybody touch or see my dick,” Stan admitted.

“I wouldn't.”

“We know you wouldn't, Kenny.”

“How about just boobs?” Red was trying to compromise.

“Guys don't have boobs, Red,” Kyle said.

“Yes, they do. They're just usually flat-chested.”

Kenny snickered and elbowed Stan's side. “Unlike Mr. Double D over there.” He jerked his thumb towards Cartman, which made Stan and Kyle laugh.

“Hey! The fuck you say, Kinny?”

Kenny waved him off. “Nothing, fatass.”

“I don't mind,” Bebe spoke up. “What about you, Wends?”

She shrugged. “I'd rather not show them, though.”

This made Stan clench his jaw. He tried to swallow his jealousy with a sip of his beer. He wasn’t with her anymore. Why should he care that everybody else had the possibility of touching her?

“Okay, okay,” Red turned to Nichole. “What about you, Nichole?”

She looked at Tolkien. “If you're cool with it, I don't mind.”

Tolkien shrugged. “It's your body, babe.”

Nichole gave a half shrug. “Then I guess my breasts are on the line too.”

“Okay! Is there anything else anybody would be uncomfortable with?” Red asked. Everybody was silent. “Remember, the king’s orders are absolute.” Nobody answered. “Alright, let’s get it started!” She picked up the red solo cup and began to shake up the sticks before picking out a stick.

That was how the game began. Everything started out slow, each one slowing growing with each passing dare:

Wendy asked for four (Butters) to give her a well-thorough massage.

Craig told three (Clyde) to call City Wok and order a pizza on speaker.

Nichole told one (Bebe) and eleven (Kyle) to switch clothing for the rest of the night, save for underwear. This one made Stan laugh at his red-faced friend.

Butters made ten (Craig) eat a banana while dipping it in mayo.

When Bebe got a turn as the king, she insisted on turning it up a notch and dared eight (Tolkien) to give seven (Cartman) a lap dance.

Craig made seven (Stan) go around the room and smell everyone’s armpits. If Stan thought he hated Craig before, he absolutely despised him now. Red made three (Bebe) color in a tooth of hers black so it would look like she was missing it.

Then Cartman had gotten his first turn as the king:

“Who is the-”

“I want eight to fondle one’s boobs for two minutes.” Cartman didn’t let the rest of the group finish the sentence before spitting out an order.

“Gah! I have to what?” Everyone looked over at Tweek who had wide eyes.

“Did I stutter?”

Tweek glared at Cartman while he made a noise that sounded like a dying animal.

A sigh came from Wendy as she loudly placed down her stick. “Come here, Tweek, let’s just get this over with.”

Tweek slowly slid himself off his seat and made his way to sit beside Wendy. He held his hands up, preparing himself as Wendy unzipped her coat.

“Okay, ready?” Nichole asked with a timer ready in hand. The two nodded. “Alright, go.”

Tweek immediately cupped her breasts, now red in the face.

Stan felt his body become hot with jealousy. He tried to force himself to look away from the two, but he couldn’t.

“Oh, your boobs are nice, Wendy,” Tweek commented.

She smiled. “Thanks.”

“Careful, Tweek. They still might have some silicone in there,” Bebe joked, earning a smack in the arm from Wendy.

After an agonizingly long two minutes, their time was up. Stan knew that he would have nothing to worry about with Tweek, But he could help but glare at him as he made his way back to his seat besides Craig.

Everyone returned the sticks and continued the game.

Clyde kept on complaining about needing to use the bathroom, so Tolkien took the liberty as king to have twelve (Kenny) and four (Bebe) watch him.

Wendy told two (Cartman) to reveal his search history to everyone.

Nichole had seven (Craig) and thirteen (Kyle) make out for a minute.

Kenny told nine (Clyde) to drink a whole bottle of hot sauce and not drink anything for the rest of the night.

Then Tweek got a turn as the king:

“Gah! I’m the king? No way, man, this is too much pressure!” Tweek tried shoving the stick into Craig’s hand. “You do it, Craig.”

“Honey, that’s not how the game works.” He placed his hand on his thigh. “Just think of something stupid or make someone do something you want to do, like have them make a coffee for you,” Craig suggested to him.

Tweek was gnawing at his bottom lip. “Uh, well, three and five!”

“Yes? Three and five, what?”

“Ungh… three has to,” he began to tug at his hair and Craig moved to rub his back gently. “Three has to lick peanut butter off of five’s stomach.”

Kenny clasped his hands together and laughed. “Oh my God, Tweek.”

“W-what?” He screeched, his shaking now more obvious.

“Didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Ah, geez,” Butters stood up, “I know it’s the rules and I gotta do it.”

“Ah, Butters!” Red began taking everything off the coffee table to make space. She patted on the middle of the table. “Lay right here. We gotta get the perfect view.”

“Oh, hamburgers… Do I have to?” He asked as he began to rub his fists together.

“Would you rather stand while…” Bebe began to look around. “Hey, who is doing it?”

Stan stayed quiet. Maybe if he didn’t move or say anything, Kenny would offer to take the spot. Or maybe even Cartman. He always had a weird thing for Butters and Kyle.

“Stan, you can’t just pretend you don’t have the stick.” Of course, fucking Kyle couldn't leave him be.

Stan groaned before setting down his drink and standing up. “Fine, let’s just get this over with.”

Tolkien stood up along with him. “I'll go get some peanut butter.” He told the group as he disappeared up the stairs.

Bebe and Red were giggling loudly at Butters slowly lying himself on the table - his head towards Cartman and his legs towards Tweek and Craig

Stan moved to sit next to Red who was sitting by Butters right, but she stopped him. “No way, Stan. You gotta get him at a better angle.” Stan knew that Red was just trying to sexualize the dare. He just rolled his eyes and moved to be in front of Butters’ legs to satiate her.

Tolkien came back to the basement with the jar of peanut butter and a large spoon. “Here you go.” He held them out to Stan, but Kenny swooped in and grabbed them instead.

“Dude, come on.”

“No way, man. Knowing Stan, he'll probably just put a little bit to get it over with. We gotta make sure it's worth it.” Kenny began to unscrew the cap and dipped the spoon in to get some of its contents on the back of the spoon. He kneeled beside Red and held the spoon over Butters’ stomach. “You ready, Butters?”

He shrugged. “Ready as I'll ever be, I guess.”

Kenny lowered the spoon and began to coat Butters’ stomach with peanut butter. It was a lot more than Stan would've liked, but that was the point. Kenny stopped and Stan watched with narrowed eyes as he dunked the spoon back in to cover his stomach even more.

Kenny was way too giddy for Stan’s taste about this entire situation. He could tell by his eyes that he was smiling big underneath his parka. “Kenny, you’re acting like you’re the one doing this,” Stan told him.

His eyes flickered up to meet Stan’s. “I wish.” Stan didn’t know whether he wished to be Butters or him, but he didn’t want to know. He started to smear even more on Butters’ stomach and Stan was sure he was doing this to get under his skin. “But since you’re the one doing it,” He finished up, sticking the spoon in his mouth as he closed the jar. He clapped his shoulder as he stood up. “Why don’t you show us your skills?”

“Of licking peanut butter? Right.”

“Well, don’t just lick it up,” Craig said in his usual monotone tone. Stan didn’t need to turn around to see the stupid smirk on his face.

“Good thing you aren’t the king then.”

“Ah, well, don’t just lick it up, Stan.” Stan really wanted to murder Craig for putting the idea into his boyfriend’s head. “A-and you have to clean it all. Nothing left behind.” Oh, how Stan hated them both.

He clenched his jaw as he grabbed Butters from behind his knees to pull him closer to the edge so he wouldn't have to hover over him too much. He grimaced, seeing how he was in between the blonde’s legs now.

A chorus of wolf whistles filled the room after he did this.

He sighed before leaning down over the blonde and licking at his stomach, trying to lick as much peanut butter off as he could to end this as quickly as he could.

“Oh,” Butters giggled. “That tickles!” He began to squirm as he continued to laugh.

Stan rolled his eyes. He placed his hands on his hips, holding him firmly down so he could stop moving. This made the laughing and movement stop. He tried not to think too much about what he was doing - on who he was doing it to.

He hated everything about this. He hated everyone cheering him on. He hated looking up for a moment and seeing Butters face, how red he was. He hated seeing Wendy giggle with Bebe as he continued with his work.

“Oh~! Stan,” Red nudged him when he finished, “you’re still single, right?”

Bebe laughed at this. “Oh my God, Red.”

Stan just ignored her and rolled his eyes. “In Tolkien’s words: ‘I swear to God, if any of you let anybody know out of this room, I will kill you,’” He told the group as he stood up. He picked up his beer and threw himself back onto the couch.

And the game continued once again.

Jimmy told twelve (Red) to call a random number and sing "Happy Birthday" to the first person to pick up.

Stan even had nine (Tweek) strip down to their underwear and sit in four’s (Kenny) lap until whoever had twelve (Nichole) was king. Stan felt proud of himself for that one. He considered it as revenge for earlier.

The game kept on going and going until the teens finally got tired of it.

“Can we just go home now?” Kyle motioned to himself. “I’m tired of wearing these clothes.”

“Aw~, but you look so cute in them, Kyle,” Bebe teased.

“Oh, come on!” Clyde moaned. “Just one more round. I haven’t even been the king yet.” His face was still glowing red from the hot sauce.

“Fine, fine,” Bebe spoke up. “Let’s all do one more round, then we can go.”

“Yeah, whoever’s king better give us something really juicy,” Red agreed as she grabbed the cup from the table. She shook the cup around to mix up the sticks before picking one for herself again. She then passed the cup to Nichole and so on.

Stan watched the cup get passed around the group before it finally reached him. He stared down at the cup in Kenny’s hand. Chugged down the rest of his beer, he blindly grabbed a stick for himself. He stared it down as if the stick itself had wronged him. The number ‘4’ stared back at him. He glanced over at Kyle, but he only hid the stick.

“Okay,” Red started. “Three, two, one…”

Everybody in unison, “Who is the-”

“Me, me! I am!” Cartman shouted. “I’m the king! I’m the final king, ha ha ha ha haa ha!” He let out a loud laugh that immediately irked Stan. He knew this was a bad idea. Cartman reached over and grabbed his bag from behind Butters, hitting him in the back of the head in the process. He began to rummage through the bag, mumbling to himself.

“Fuck,” Kyle muttered. “Let’s just get this over with, fatass.”

Stan let his eyes wander back to Wendy as the two began their usual bicker. She met his gaze for a moment and Stan smiled, but it quickly faltered when she looked away from him. His throat felt dry. He lifted up his bottle for another sip and felt stupid when he realized it was empty. He looked back at Cartman to see him slam down a notebook.

“I have been planning for this day. To have the authorit-ah to have you guys do what I want with you guys. And none of you can reverse it.” Cartman was watching everybody carefully. “There will be six of you. I am going to pair you up and each pair must,” he glanced at Kyle. “must date the person for a month.”

Kyle scoffed and Stan made it necessary to elbow him in the side to prevent him from making it worse. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all. He tried not to look at Wendy. He couldn’t look too hopeful.

“And I mean date,” Cartman continued. “Holding hands, kissing,” He leaned forward wiggling his eyebrows. “Sex!”

“I-if I didn’t know better, I w-would- I would have th-thought you turned into K-K-Kenny,” Jimmy jokes. Kenny was the only one who laughed. “Wow, what a great audience.”

Everyone was tense. Of course, Eric Cartman would try to do anything to get under their skins. Especially Kyle’s. He hadn’t even said any numbers yet and Stan could practically feel him fuming from his right.

“So!” He clasped his hands. “Who should it be? Hmm, yes, I see…” He looked at them all again. “I want four and seven, six and,” he made a face. “Thirteen, and for the sake of luck for our two love birds,” He gave a pointed look towards Craig and Tweek. “Eleven and twelve.”

The room was silent aside from Tweek’s sudden yelp, making it obvious that his number was picked. Stan stared back down at his number. ‘4’ He was chosen by Cartman. He hoped that the universe was somehow on his side and made Wendy as ‘7.’ That way, she could see how they should actually get back together. It could be his chance.

“This is fucking ridiculous!” Kyle spoke up and Stan knew things were going to go downhill. “I am not doing that! I have way better things to do than this stupid dare,” he exclaimed.

“Oh, but he’s the king,” Butters spoke up. “And whatever the king says is a-absolute.”

“Thank you, Butters.”

“Oh, fuck that! I don’t give a shit if he’s the king!” Kyle’s face was now aflame with anger. He really didn’t want to do this. Stan didn’t understand why. It was just a month. All he had to do was shut his mouth and entertain Cartman, but then again, nothing was easy with Kyle.

“Well, since Kyle clearly has a problem with it,” He reached forward to grab the notebook he had pulled out as he continued. “Make it two months.”

“This is stupid-”

“And as Butters said, I am the king, therefore, anything I say goes.” He began to flip through the notebook. “Ah, yes, here we are.” He flipped the notebook over to show the group its contents. A picture of Kyle was evident on one side of the page and writing was on the other side.

“W-what is it?” Tweek asked.

“Don’t egg him on, babe.”

“Thank you for asking, Tweek!” Cartman cleared his throat and began to read:

In any instance of a game of dares, if Kyle “Stupid Jew” Broflovski chooses to refuse the dare the following will be punishment for him:

Revealing a secret

Send his brother back to Canada

Ruin any chances he has of getting a girlfriend or getting into whatever college he wants to go to for 4 months

And-

“I really don’t give a shit, Cartman. It’s not like you’re going to do all that anyway. You’re bluffing.”

“I’d rather not do this either,” Craig spoke up. “And your ‘luck’ didn’t even pair me with Tweek. I’m not going to date anybody else.”

Cartman rolled his eyes. “Of course, you two are against it. Only thinking of yourselves.” The two boys began to protest, but he only ignored them. “If Kahl let me finish, you would all know that both people will be receiving punishment. It doesn’t matter if one of them still wants to go with the dare. Both must work together.” He intertwined his fingers, making Stan roll his eyes.

Stan heard Nichole suck air through her teeth. “Yikes.”

“So,” Cartman wore a wicked smirk on his face. “Who is going to do my bidding?”

Stan sighed. Might as well get it over with and know who he was going to ‘date’ for two months. “I got four.”

Everybody was silent. They all looked at one another, expecting someone to speak up to partner up with him. It took another beat of silence before someone finally did.

“Ah, geez. I got seven.” Stan felt his body run cold with dread and he wished he had never come at all. It wasn’t Wendy who spoke up. “I guess we’ll be stuck together for a while. Huh, Stan?”

It was Butters.

10 notes · View notes

siriushxney · 3 years

Text

* . PAPER RINGS !

pairing — lando norris x reader

rating — fluff

wordcount — 2.3k

warnings — cursing (it's me who are we kidding)

song — taylor swift | paper rings

note ! — before y'all jump down my throat about "what the hell is a toque” — it's a hat. us canadians call it a toque. also this is long overdue, but I hope you like it!

when the light of day melted into the dark of night, and long, tiring shifts slowly came to an end, it wasn't an odd sight to see large groups of people piling into bars for a drink or several. with an extra hour and a half added onto your normal shift time due to your bosses inability to do what he was supposed to do — leaving stacks of paperwork you had to go through, along with a few of your other colleagues.

now walking into the packed bar — bags long forgotten in your cars, you couldn't find it in yourself to cringe at the strong smell of alcohol that burned your nose as you walked through the door, nor did you care for the way the heels of your feet stuck to the ground with every step you took.

after a day like today, you weren't sure if you'd mind anything.

sheila — one of your colleagues raised a stiff hand and slammed it down on the counter, gaining the attention of the bartender. “we need like, fifteen shots stat!” the bartender immediately got to work, pouring glass after glass — sliding them in front of the five of you, before turning to serve another guest.

“that asshole gonna get my foot down his throat if he dumps that much paperwork on us again,” she downed her first shot and reached for another one, “all of that should have been sorted out in the morning, not thrown onto us as we were packing up,” the rest of you agreed, downing a shot quickly as you tried to keep up with the loud mouthed girl.

you turned your head away from the conversation that had started between the others, choosing to stare curiously at the screen in the corner displaying reruns of a race that took place today.

feeling a body skim yours as a group of men slid into the barspace to the left of you — a majority of them sporting an orange and blue item of clothing, something you had connected quickly to the orange and blue car that had been on screen moments earlier.

looking back to the tv hanging from the ceiling, you tried to wrap your head around what all the numbers meant — a small bump caused you to look down, a younger man of the bunch staring at the tv proudly, “do you watch f1?” he turned his head to look at you as he finished asking his question.

f1... Is that what this was called?

“no, but I'd rather watch that then the football game that's on,” the boy looked at you with wide eyes, slightly in awe of how blunt you were. he nodded slightly before turning his attention back to the tv. “ I assume you do. you're wearing the colours of one of the cars,” you felt bad as you watched the boy curl into himself slightly.

ha looked over to you once again — “you can say that,” his eyes glinted a little bit as he spoke, a proud smirk coming across his face as he leaned in closer, not close enough to make you uncomfortable, but close enough that he could speak without the bar hearing. “I race for them — see that orange and blue mclaren? thats me.”

that was definitely more interesting than the news.

“so what might that mclaren driver's name be?” his head turned back to you, a slight red tint covering his cheeks, and climbing to the tips of his ears.

with a single hand outstretched to you, he introduced himself, “I’m lando norris — and who might you be?”

“Y/N.”

—

that day had happened a few months ago — and in that time, your friendship with the young driver had only progressed.

days you used to spend simply reading in the comfort of your own home, was now spent bouncing from bookshop from book shop — lando recommending you all the books that he had been in love with at the moment.

you had to refrain from telling him you had already read them, having looked him up on instagram a day or two after the initial meet — the photo of him cozy and comfortable in his bed with the stack of books perfectly visible to his side.

the types of books a person read could tell you a lot about their character — and with lando, it was all good things.

“okay, and then this one is semi based on a true story — like half true but has a lot of action and drama sprinkled in there-” he rambled on about the book he held in his hands, his eyes darting between you and it as his hands ran over the spine and pages of the book.

even knowing the writer, plot, and ending — you couldn't bring yourself to put an end to his ramblings. instead, you stood to his side and nodded eagerly as he spoke words with such excitement.

for any other person, you would have cut them off and told them that you had read it — but for some reason, cutting lando off was the last thing you wanted to do. he wasn't the famous young driver for mclaren who was always eager for a challenge on the track. he was just lando.

the boy who had a mini library growing in his room, filled with books from every genre. he was the boy with the odd affinity for milk. he was just normal.

and for the first time in your life — normal felt nice.

—

“lando, you're insane.”

“maybe a little bit, but insane is fun sometimes.”

when lando said he had something fun in mind for the two of you to do, the last place you expected to end up was on the shore of an ice cold lake — the wind blowing harshly against your body, making it sway slightly with the force.

lando had already taken off his jacket, now standing in just his shirt and bottoms.

“I’m not going in that,” you backed away from the boy as he stripped more and more of his clothes off, dropping them in a neat pile on the ground.

he shrugged, pausing in his action of removing his jeans, “are you not going in because its cold, or are you not going in because you don't have a swim suit?” while the lake technically was still warm enough for swimming, the thought of the water 's temperature that was lowering daily paired with the strong winds, didn’t exactly spark excitement in you.

“both.”

“it’s either your coming in by your own will, or I’m dragging you in.”

“you touch me and I’ll hurt you — that’s a promise.”

a mischievous glint appears in lando’s eyes — he knew what he was about to do was going to get him in trouble, and most likely hurt in the end, but the thought of doing it overpowered his thoughts about what would happen after.

there was no going back.

in a split second lando had his arms wrapped around your waist as he dragged you closer to the lake — despite the heels of your feet digging into the ground, he had still succeeded in getting you close enough that if he threw his body weight towards the water, you would soon follow.

and that’s exactly what he did.

a laugh from lando, a squeal from you, and the whooshing of the air rushing past your ears was all you could hear before you found yourself submerged under the cold water.

you clawed your way back to the surface with the help of lando’s arms, which were still wrapped around your waist — as soon as you felt the coldness of the air reach your face, you were turning in his arms and swinging.

“I’m fully clothed you asshole!” you brought a fist down lightly on the top of his head — the water squishing out at the action.

“stop- don’t- stop hitting me!” lando laughed as he let you go, swimming backwards slightly as a way to get away from your violent swings. “I know that you're fully clothed- that's what makes it so funny,” the curly haired boy couldn't contain his laughter at the end — his voice railing into the squeaky laugher that you had come to love.

without the support of lando, paired with the additional weight of your heavy winter coat and soaked wool toque and mittens, you began to struggle slightly to stay afloat. “lando-” the water climbed its way up your face before washing back down as you kicked harder.

his laugher stopped as he kicked his way over to you — grabbing around your waist once more and holding you to his body.

with the distance closed between the two of you, the feeling of his warm breath against your face was unavoidable — as well as the feeling of the heat radiating from his body, even through the layers you had on. neither of you spoke, both trying not to move — for every movement brought a wave of discomfort with your muscles tensed up from the cold. but as time started to tick slower, and all you could feel was the other — the last thing on both of your minds was the temperature of the water.

“you’re turning blue, lando,” as much as you wished you would've stayed in that position forever, the sight of lando’s cheeks and lips draining of its naturally pink colour concerned you. even with layers upon layers of clothes on, you found yourself shivering — and with lando in nothing but his boxers, you doubted he was doing much better than you. “I think right now is a good time to get out,” lando didnt reply, only bringing the two of you closer to the shore.

with chattering teeth, bodies curled in, and fast feet, lando and you made your way to his car — both jumping in the minute you could get your hands on the door handle. neither of you cared for the seats wetting as you sat down.

“I think I have some towels in the back from my training — can you grab them? I’ll get the heat and everything going,” you leaned into the back of the car to the best of your ability, pulling two towels out of an orange gym bag, and bringing them to the front where lando and you sat.

lando wrapped the towel around his shoulders — the shaking constant and harsh, rocking his body violently.

“I would say I told you so, but I feel too bad to even insult you,” with your jacket, toque, and mittens stippped off and thrown onto the floor, you wrapped your towel around your shoulders much like lando had.

“awe, youre so considerate — I didn’t think it through.”

“trust me — I can tell.”

the sound of the heaters on blast and the clattering of teeth was all that filled the car. lando had seemed aggravated at your comment — the way his body turned slightly away from your own, his eyes never meeting yours, and the fact that there was no laugh following or during his words.

what had you said or done that pissed him off?

“are you mad at me?”

lando turned slowly, his eyes still not fully meeting yours — but he looked like he was less angry and more conflicted. “I’m not mad, I’m just- just,” the words were on the tip of his tongue, but for some reason he couldn't bring himself to say them. “forget it.”

“no, I wanna know what's wrong — please tell me?”

he angled his body to face yours after a few moments of no response, making it so him and you looked at eachother with ease. “back out there on the lake- did you… did you feel anything?” your body tensed at his question — it was the last thing that you thought would come out of his mouth, so it took you by surprise. “because I know I did — and that scares me.”

you struggled to find a string of words that made sense to you, “I mean, yeah I guess I did — what did you feel? just so I can make sure that I felt the same thing.”

“I felt like I wanted to stay in that position forever — like I wanted to kiss you,” the words he spoke were soft and genuine. “all I felt was you.”

it had taken months for you to put a name to the feelings you had when you were around the british boy, but now, more than ever, did you finally know what they were.

they were love.

“I felt the same thing — all that I could feel was you and your stupidly perfect body against mine,” both of you giggled slightly at that. “and all that was running through my head was that if you had asked me to do anything with you, I would have done it — hell you could have asked me to marry you with paper rings and I would’ve said yes.”

lando stared at you with a calm look on his face — his eyes drinking you and all of your features in. “I’m glad — because I was thinking the same thing,” his hand fell on top of yours, bringing a warmth to the back of it. “and no need for paper rings when I can promise you the real deal when the time comes.”

“like I said before, I would marry you with paper rings lando,” you leaned in slightly, your voice barely above a whisper. “now kiss me you goof.”

he didn’t have to be asked twice.

#formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #::lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine

91 notes · View notes

alderaani · 4 years

Note

hullo pls could you maybe do from the prompt list 'Staying up half the night to finish a game with them.' with jesse? or echo, i love them both very much so whoever you'd rather write would be just fantastic (: 💕

thanks Emma!!!! anything for u 💕 i’m gonna go with jesse for this one, though i’m desperate to write for my boy echo in the near future. (i am very quickly learning i can’t keep these brief to save my life, oops)

pairing is jesse x reader:

“Heard you landed your ass in here again, idiot.”

It comes out harsher than you mean, but the rush of anger-joy-relief that floods through you when you see Jesse propped up in bed, awake and laughing with one of his brothers, is like a battering ram. You put out one hand to steady yourself against the doorframe and blink, startled by the way your eyes are stinging.

“If only he’d actually landed on his ass,” Hardcase laughs. He’s lounging on the end of the bed in the bottom half of his armour, legs crossed in front of him. “Di’kut went down on his head instead.”

“Thanks, ‘Case,” Jesse sighs, before looking at you sheepishly. “I was goin’ to comm you.”

You sniff in distain and push into the room proper. “What, in three to five business days? I had to find out from one of the mechanics, Jesse.”

Jesse scowls and you feel your eyes sting again at just how small he looks against the sheets. The white bandages on his chest and wrapped around his skull are stark against the rich brown of his skin. You don’t think you have really breathed in the last three days, not since contact with Torrent went down and it suddenly hit you that you might never get to speak to him again.

“How is this my fault? I was karking unconscious and you’re going to hold that against me?”

“Well,” Hardcase says, eyes darting between the pair of you. He shoves himself off the bed, clapping a hand on Jesse’s blanketed leg. “Sounds like my cue to check out. The boys are settin’ up a round of sabacc in the barracks, don’t wanna hold ‘em up.”

You wave absently to him as he leaves, not taking your eyes off of Jesse’s as your chest fills with fire. You open your mouth to snap back, but the pure weariness that flashes across Jesse’s face sinks in like a knife between your ribs and suddenly you’re just tired.

You collapse into the vacant chair beside his bed and put your face in your hands.

“Kriff, Jess, I’m sorry.” You huff out a little laugh. “I came here to cheer you up, believe it or not.”

Looking up, you’re in time to see Jesse’s face soften. He reaches out and knocks his fist gently against your temple.

“Bold strategy you’re usin’.”

You swallow tightly and keep your eyes on the blankets when you make your next admission, choking the words out. “I didn’t mean to get mad. You just really fuckin’ scared me this time.”

Jesse chuckles weakly. “Think I scared myself. I…I really thought that was it, for a moment.”

You breathe out, long and slow, and try to push away the could-have-beens. He’s here, he’s whole, and he’s alive. Each one of those things is its own blessing. Some part of you still feels like it’s stuck in the awful silence of your comm station as you typed in code after code and prayed, unable to reach any of them and only being able to think about Jesse. His laugh, the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles, the way it makes your stomach tie itself into knots, and the ache in your gut when you thought you’d lost the chance to tell him any of it.

You’re used to being haunted by thoughts of him, but now all your memories have a slightly bitter edge, soured by the possibility that they’d almost been all you had. It’s harder than you expected to let that go, even if you’ve always known you might have to.

“I’m damn glad it wasn’t,” is what you get out eventually. “This place’d be boring without you.”

Jesse quirks a smile. You just want to hold on to him, kiss that smile straight off his stupid face, and can’t bring yourself to care that you’re staring. “Maker, I know, I’m bored already and I’m only stuck in the medbay. What’ve you got for me?”

You reach into the bag at your feet and pull out a card deck and a bottle of blumfruit juice. “I couldn’t bring the boys, but at least I’ve brought the cards, right?”

The way that Jesse’s whole face lights up makes the knot in your chest loosen. You dig around a bit more and pull out Jesse’s razor kit – there’s a fine layer of visible stubble growing on the unbandaged bits of his head. Aside from his huge Republic cog tattoo and the fact the stubble’s dark, he’s starting to look eerily like Rex.

“I thought you might want these tomorrow, too, I cleared them with Coric so I won’t accidentally land you in trouble.”

Jesse tilts his head a little bit and just watches you. You fight the urge to fidget and place the razor kit on the edge of the blanket; it’s hard not to shrug this off like you have a hundred times before, but you made a promise to yourself when you’d heard he’d come back alive. You won’t hide how you feel any more, and he can do what he likes with it. At least you will have given him the choice.

“You went and got these for me?” he asks eventually, his gaze pointed and calculating. You expected it – there’s a reason he’s on the Captain’s core squad – but it still makes you feel naked.

“You always bitch when your hair starts growing in,” You smile. Jesse’s expression clears, but whatever conclusion he’s come to he keeps to himself. He puts the razor on the side table and grins at you.

“The stubble itches. Now are you gonna deal us in, or what?”

You’re halfway through your first hand before you realise something crucial is missing from the set.

“Kriff, I forgot my betting chips! Sorry Jess, I can run back and get them if you like.”

Jesse picks up the bottle of blumfruit juice and gulps a mouthful, his mouth stained slightly red.

“I think I’ve got a better idea. Much more fun if we bet favours, right?”

His expression is far too innocent. You narrow your eyes at him as you accept the bottle and bring it to your lips. “What kind of favours?”

He shrugs. “Just little things. Ship duties, stuff you’ve always wanted to know…that kind of thing. I know you’ve always wanted to get back at Fives for what happened on Orto Plutonia.”

You lick your lips slowly. It’s a tempting proposition, which is dangerous for someone who is so thoroughly shit at sabacc, and for someone who’s opponent knows it.

“…Alright. But we’ve got to agree on the favour before it enters the pool.”

Jesse’s grin is sharklike. “Deal.”

Over the course of the next three hours you lose your mess hall slot, have to tell Jesse the story of how you ended up locked in the communal showers for three hours, and owe him two whole bottles of his favourite Alderaanian spirit.

In return, all you have managed to swindle is that payback on Fives, so when Jesse suggests one more round at 0300, you’re hesitant. You’re pretty sure you’re in love with him, but you still have a little dignity.

“Aw, come on. Where’s the honour in givin’ in?” Jesse grins.

“There’s no honour in marching blindly to defeat, either,” you counter, gathering up the sabacc cards to shuffle anyway. Besides, if you yawn any more you think your soul might escape your body.

“Maybe not, but I think you’ll like what I’ve got in mind.”

His face is oddly serious, and it piques your interest. Before you can stop yourself, you’re nodding and dealing out the cards again, fighting for composure when you lift yours and see the brilliant pair you’ve picked up.

“Fine, one more round. If I win you have to cover my next shift stocking ordnance,” you say quickly.

Jesse swallows, his honey brown eyes boring into you. “Sure. But if I win, I get a kiss.”

Faintly, you think someone must have opened an airlock somewhere, because you can’t breathe. You hear your lungs suck in, see the way Jesse leans a little towards you, the expression on his face almost hungry. There’s a faint ringing in your ears as you nod eagerly, your palms sweating.

What follows is possibly the longest 30 minutes of your life. It figures, really, that the one game of sabacc you desperately want to lose is the one you can’t seem to not win. When the match is up you scowl at the perfect score of 23 in your hand and toss it down onto the bed covers.

“Sorry Jesse, read ‘em and weep. I’ve got pure sabacc.”

Jesse leans over to read, but instead of looking as annoyed as you feel, he just smirks.

“Now now, cyar’ika, don’t be hasty. Let me present to you: the Idiot’s Array.”

You lean forward before you can stop yourself. “No fucking way.”

The rarest hand in the game? You’ve gotta see that.

Jesse smugly spreads out his cards. You smack him. “That’s not the Idiot’s Array!”

“It is too.”

“Then where’s the Idiot Card, genius?”

Without pausing, Jesse lifts his hands and points two thumbs at himself, grinning at you. “Right here, darlin’.”

You laugh, heat creeping up through your cheeks to the tips of your ears. You slide onto the bed and place your palms either side of Jesse’s legs, your pulse thundering under the heat of his eyes.

“Guess I owe you a kiss, then.”

Jesse’s hand sneaks up to cup the back of your neck. “Yeah. Guess you do.”

#clone trooper jesse #clone trooper jesse x reader #arc trooper jesse #arc trooper jesse x reader #the clone wars #star wars #alderwrites #hmmm i'm really not sure if i'm happy with this one but #here she is

129 notes · View notes

georgemackayhey · 4 years

Text

More Than A Night Out

warning: Explicit content 18+ Only

w/c: 5k

───※ ·❆· ※───

You sat behind the roped off a section of a smoke-filled bar in one of Vegas' most hectic hotels, sporting a fancy dress and feeling a bit anxious.

"I'm George. And you're who I'm supposed to be introducing myself to, right?" He stood leaning in close before you clad in a casual leather jacket with his hands shoved in his pockets. Reading body language had become a much more important part of this job than you'd once figured. But there was a difference between assessing and staring. And you had to catch yourself on the edge of openly gawking at the lean beauty who called himself George.

"Yes, yes, thanks for sparing some time for a chat." You smiled warmly, scooting to the corner of the curved red vinyl booth. George let his nervous grin flicker into a warmer expression as he slid in to meet the opposite corner of the table.

You were a writer for an independent magazine based out of New York. Your publisher had sent you all over America to interview all kinds of talented people of current pop culture. You were used to celebrities and their lingo, and you were used to the pseudo niceties these interviews came along with. After answering your questions with nothing but pride, your subjects would leave and go on being popular. It was your job to make them seem like normal human beings, with an overload of charm.

In your lap, a hardback notebook held all your hastily scribbled questions that you thought up in preparation for this moment. You were meant to ask George MacKay how his latest film had changed his life and about his rise to fame. You were supposed to get him to gush about acting and tell you some beautiful antidote no other interview had managed to hear the likes of. Your job tonight was to focus on George's latest project, 1917. But George asked the first question.

"So you've been doing this a while, huh?" The man with sky blue eyes asked. A waiter had breezed by, sliding a list of drinks for you pair to choose from.

"I only ask because the bio in your email was like, really impressive. I don't know if I'm worthy." George laughed, gazing at the beer list as you shrugged. You had conducted conversations with the likes of many old, jaded stars. Tonight was different. A young, spirited man sat across from you and his eyes were shining right into yours. You were completely unworthy.

"Don't worry. I'll only write exactly what you say." You smiled, eyeing the mixed drinks, but only ordering water when the waiter came back by.

"What's been your craziest interview?" George wondered, propping his chin in his hand as he looked to you like a boy in school, and you were a fireman on career day. You laughed out loud, because yes. You laugh because you were supposed to be asking the questions.

"I made Axel Rose cry." You grinned, peeking behind a strand of your hair to ensure this wasn't something you went around telling everyone. "He was the guest during a benefit for our magazine. I asked about his family and he just sort of lost it."

George laughed out loud, beaming at you. So far, this felt more like riffing with an old friend of a friend. You nearly forgot about the list of questions in your lap. But even after you cracked open your notebook, George still had more to say.

"With the right questions, I bet you get a lot of dirt." He rose a pale brow as if there was something he was trying to get you to understand. A code he wished you would crack.

"You should let me ask you a few." You mused, leaning in a little closer to establish your longing to get this show on the road. Not that you wanted the night to end sooner. You could have basked in the glow of his blinding smile for all time. But you were on a clock...

George watched your mouth move as you asked him about 1917. He looked you in the eyes when he told you his favorite memories from set. You watched his hands move around as he explained the impact that acting out such a tumultuous time period had on his personal and professional life. In the lulls in between conversation, when he paused to sip his lager, your eyes met each others. It was by far one of the more enjoyable nights of your career. He was easy to listen to and very lovely to look at.

When the clock struck midnight, and your notebook was filled with more information than you'd even consider finalizing, the night ended. With smiles and genuine thanks, you parted from the grotty Vegas bar. But as you made your way through the casino, you turned back to see George lingering near the elevators, watching you disappear into the crowd.

___

Up in your luxurious room, too nice for someone to stay in all alone, you checked your phone. You had a flight to catch in the morning, travel that would put you home right in time for the weekend.

But a dark email loomed at the top of your notification bar. Your flight had been delayed due to weather, a wicked snow storm had taken residence in New York. Seriously, this late in February? The airline had given you a limited few options for later flights, and you slumped on the downy hotel bed, booking the soonest flight out of this trashy city.

Looked like you'd be spending another day hanging around the hotel that felt more like a small city of its own. Luckily, you had something, rather; someone to write that would keep you pleasantly distracted.

___

Last nights silky was totally worth sporting in front of your modern-day movie star crush, but you were glad to be more comfortable this morning. After a long scalding shower, you slipped into reasonable leggings and an old band shirt that was a few sizes too large. This could pass as sporty, right? With thoughts of fashion draining from your head, you grabbed your laptop and started a lazy shuffle toward the lobby of the hotel.

You usually wrote in coffee shops, back home, but the lobby swarmed with tourists was a little too hectic for your liking. Luckily, you wandered to the opposite wing of the lodge and found a relatively cozy nook outside of a casino. It was too early for the swarm of gamblers to distract you with drunken cheers, but the stead buzz of well-groomed patrons coming and going from the bar was white noise music to your ears.

You nestled into a chaise lounge chair by a window and ignored everything besides your laptop screen. There was nothing that could stop you from spending a little too long scrolling through George's fan tag on Instagram. When you finally started to outline the story based on his interview, you were one hundred words from your limit of one thousand, and you still hadn't said everything you wanted. You could have gushed over his polite and charming nature long enough to take up every page of the magazine you worked for.

But you reigned yourself in, reworded for a while, and started to finalize the article when a passer-by disrupted your work for the first time in a couple of hours.

"Is that about me?" It was him.

"Oh my God." You laughed, clutching onto your laptop like an instinct. You were shocked to see George again; dressed in a fine-looking sweater that made your heart buzz with a silly warmth. You cursed your leggings and wondered why you were stupid enough to wear your old thrift store Bowie tshirt in public.

"Can I read it?" George grew a wicked grin, moving to sit at the foot of the chaise you occupied. You scrambled to straighten your poster as your heart speed up in search of an excuse. You really shouldn't let him do that- but you couldn't say no to his sweet face, especially when he was smiling right at you.

"Uh..." You glanced between George and the laptop you'd been staring at for far too long. You realized that you were one spell check away from sending the damn thing in. You pressed the spellcheck button in a flash, so you wouldn't have to lie. But no errors were found, and you were left with zero choice.

"Just know I shouldn't be doing this." You warned, scooting your laptop away with a cringe. George, in all his charm, waggled his brow at you as he leaned in a little closer to read your story. You held your breath at his silly expression and ceased to breathe the entire time his eyes locked onto your laptop screen.

"This..." George spoke up after a very scary bout of silence. He shook his head as his eyes scanned the page on your laptop, and you felt your heart begin to stall.

"You actually, like... listened to what I had to say," George smirked in unmistakable disbelief. "It's so much more than a Q&A. You drew conclusions and made our conversation into a story. It's perfect." George glanced up to you for the first time in a while, and his eyes were searing into yours.

"Geez," You chuckled nervously, digging your nails into the stitching on the cushion below you. "Thank you, George. I never really get feedback like that from anyone I write for." You realized. Sure, you're articles we're promoted by the people featured in them, but they hardly ever had a direct comment on your work.

"When is it coming out?" George wondered, leaning on his elbow, looking up toward you. You leaned toward the laptop that was the barrier between you and the pretty man, but were closer to him than ever before.

"I just have to change the font..." You noted, pressing buttons as you spoke. "open my email..." George's eyes eventually flickered from your face back to your screen. "and send it in."

"Would you like to do the honors?" You grinned, moving the cursor over the send button on the screen. George gazed back to you with a hearty chuckle but didn't waste much more time before clicking the send button for you.

"And now we wait." You shrugged, wrapping your arms around your waist as the handsome man smiled your way. Oh if you'd only put on a little lipstick...

"How should we pass the time, then?" George wondered in a curious lilt. "Oh, let's go drink one of those thirty-four-ounce margaritas to celebrate. It's the perfect occasion to day drink." Was he kidding? Because you weren't entirely sure if you were being punk'd or not, you tried to hide your wide-eyed reaction as you responded.

"I'm hardly dressed for the occasion." You grinned, shutting your laptop.

"If it's any consolation, that bar is empty right now, besides there's a lady asleep in the back in her clothes from last night." George pointed across the way. There we're people flooding the casino and taking their drinks to gamble. There was no way you were about to pass up this opportunity.

In the blink of an eye, you were sitting at a bar top, turned toward each other to share a ridiculously overpriced thirty-four-ounce strawberry margarita out of honest to God silly straws.

"This should actually be illegal."

"Do you remember the prohibition, George?" You laughed, watching the blended ice travel through the purple looped straw as you sipped.

"Of course not." George laughed incredulously. "Just because I lived through the war doesn't mean I'm that old."

"Ha ha." You mused, wondering why it was so easy to be around George. You'd just met him, but from the moment he opened his mouth, it was like you'd been chatting together for years. It was like he saw past the questions you were being paid to ask, and heard you asking them. Maybe just because you really did want to know his answers.

"I want to know what you've lived through," George demanded, taking a turn to drink out his straw from the margarita you'd been sharing. He'd been asking questions like that since you'd met him, and your chest blossomed with nerves as he peered up at you through his lashes. In your nervous scramble to give George an answer, your brain settled on a story about the first time you met Will Smith.

"Wait, wait, wait." George broke away from his green silly straw and held a dismissive hand out in front of you.

"We're off the record now, y/l/n. I want to know the real shit! Ya know, the last time you cried. Your Chipoltle order." George was waving his hands as if his questions were obvious. You laughed out loud, throwing your head back and relishing the moment you realized how lucky you were to be living in this moment.

So you reluctantly told him some things. You couldn't justify giving your best details away, but you liked the idea of a stranger knowing you the worst thing you did in second grade, and a silly trademark your family coined. George kept his brilliant gaze set on you, and you could almost see your own stories coming to life in his eyes. He was actually listening to you.

The focus on you was becoming a bit too overwhelming, so you shifted to ask George a few more questions, tipsy enough to pry for a few of the same antidotes George had asked you for. After laughing over a few fun facts about his hometown and the time he ran away from his mum in the supermarket, you both settled into silence. You were busy trying to compute how wild this afternoon had turned.

"How long are you staying?" He asked after a beat. When he caught your attention, you realized he'd never lost it and you'd been staring at him like you longed to do last night.

"Oh uh-"

"I was gifted tickets to one of those Cirque shows and my friend's flights got canceled.. So... I thought maybe... you'd wanna..."

"I... sure." You sit up straight, trying to bite back the cheesy grin on your face. You weren't sure how you ended up here in Vegas, sharing a drink with a stunning boy, but you thanked your lucky stars as George went one telling you the details he'd roped you into tonight.

___

The storm in New York had only gotten worse, as you scrolled through updates on your cities local website. Your flight was supposed to take off tomorrow morning, but the storm hadn't let up since the last flight got canceled. You decided now wasn't the time to worry, and went about tearing through your suitcase praying you'd find something nice enough to wear.

You exchanged room numbers, agreeing to meet up at George's tonight. You had more than enough time to get ready but still scrambled to present yourself as perfectly as possible. Agreeing to a night out with George was as lucky as you'd ever been.

After shimmying into a pretty outfit and fixing your makeup just right, your phone buzzed with a notification. Your editor had sent you the final edit of the story you'd written for George, praising you for a job well done. You couldn't help but giggled as you skipped down the hall on the way to George's room, three stories higher.

"Hello, love! You look wonderful." George smiled wide as he opened the door, gesturing for you to come in. His single room was much like yours, a living area and kitchen big enough to house a family, and a bedroom off down the hall. Vegas confounded you.

You rested your room key on a desk near the door and watched George slide into a sharp blue jacket, bringing out the shine of his matching eyes. God, how did he get better looking by the minute?

He escorted you from his suite with a coy grin as if your outing was scandalous.

"Your interview should be published next week. My editor loves it." You informed, walking in step with George to the elevators.

"Of course they do, you're an incredible writer." George pulled a face as if this were a fact everyone knew. You pushed the elevator button with a roll of your eyes, unsure how to handle his outlandish flattery.

"All because of the answers you gave me. You're an incredible subject." You fawned, feeling brave enough to in one fleeting moment.

"Then we make the perfect pair," George smirked at you, keeping his eyes on yours as you passed into the elevator doors. Your legs must have figured out how to move on their own because you felt a bit stunned still by the look in George's eye after his soft comment.

The Cirque show was just across the street in another hotel. But because Vegas was insane, it took you a solid fifteen minutes to cross between traffic and a packed hotel lobby to get to the venue inside. By the time you and George settled into your seats, you felt all too unworthy of what was happening.

"Thanks again for bringing me along. I don't know how I got so lucky." You huffed a nervous laugh, trying not to openly swoon over how close you were to the boy. His leg was just barely far enough away from brushing against yours, and you were meant to sit there like it was totally cool for the next hour.

"Trust me, I'm the lucky one." George nodded, turning his head toward the stage as the lights went dim. Your heart was beating a mile a minute and during the first few minutes of the show, all you could truly focus on was how close George was to you. You felt like a schoolgirl on her first date, and reprimanded yourself for letting your feelings get this way.

But halfway through the show, something astounding happened. It was more thrilling than all the acrobatics and dance numbers happening on stage before you. George let his fingers bloom across your palm before they fit perfectly between yours. He sat holding your hand with his eyes fixed on the show, while you tried to keep from melting off the seat into a puddle.

The show ended and you walked out of the theater together, quietly flooding out into the street that was somehow busier than before.

"Thanks for that. I've only been to Vegas for work and have never had time to do the cheesy trashy fun bits."

"Me either." George looked to you and you could tell he was brewing some idea behind his sparkling eyes. Just then, his full name was called out from somewhere beyond your shared gaze. That's when you realized you were still holding his hand. You took a step back, untangling your fingers when you realized a group of drunk college students were excitedly asking for George's photo. You watched from a few steps away and swallowed the silly blooming crush you couldn't shake. What happens in Vegas stayed, right? Maybe you were both just blinded by the ancient ideal.

But when the fans disbanded, George didn't waste a beat slipping his hand back into your grasp.

"Let's go have some fun." He waggled his brow the same as he had hours ago, smirking all the while.

You proceeded to drink and laugh and gamble and dance into the early morning. Your evening became a blur of flashing neon lights and booming bass notes. Even in your alcohol-fueled daze, you fully felt George's fingers linger on your shoulder as he led you to and from the dance floor. His touch was warm and steady and the only thing that made sense in the night full of fast-paced fun you had no time to process.

On the walk back to the hotel, reality threatened to seep in as your feet burned in your heels. When you realized you left your room key in George's room, you felt no shame in taking your heels off and walking the hotel carpet with a little more ease. "I'm all for a movie night in but that was so much fun."

"Me too. Let's have a movie night next." George grinned, wasted as you were.

"Yes!" You fawned in exhausted excitment.

He led you into his room where your room key sat waiting where you'd left it. But the thought of walking one more step made you want to cry. So you asked if George minded if you sat for a moment; settling on the tiny loveseat giving your feet a break and talking yourself into the last bit of walking toward your room.

Yeah, big mistake. Before you knew it, you were totally passed out there and slept soundly on the sofa in a room that wasn't yours. When you woke up and noticed your shoe's near George's by the door you felt so embarrassed for having crashed like that, your weak hangover trumped by shame.

"Shit." You mutter, quietly moving to sneak toward the door. Your cellphone rested on the counter next to your room key. But as you reach for your things, you hear George shuffle into the room. He's dressed for a new day in a plain button-up and suit jacket.

"Oof, I'm really sorry for falling asleep." You cringed, grabbing your room key, a little afraid to look right in George's eye.

"It's alright really." He nodded. "It was so late, I don't know how you slept on that little thing. But I didn't want to move you and make it weird." George kind of grimaced, hoping his comment wasn't as equally unwelcome as he seemed to think the action might have been. "I'm sorry you don't have to leave just yet."

"I have a flight, actually." You frowned suddenly, wishing you didn't have to leave this place you hated a day ago. But as you unlocked your phone to make sure you weren't too late, there we're a slew of emails from your flight agency, canceling your morning commute again.

"And now I don't have a flight."

George's phone seemed to buzz to life at the same moment, it was a new day after all. He glanced at his notifications frowning the same as you just had.

"Well I was going to invite you to breakfast but I've got another meeting added to my list of a ridiculous amount of things to do today." George sighed.

You knew the fun would have to come to an end sooner rather than later, he was a busy guy, an increasingly important, beautiful, busy guy. And you were stuck in Vegas all over again, without much to keep you occupied from how much you'd grown to love it here, just a little.

"Maybe we can have that movie night if I get back early enough." George smiled, leaning over to retrieve his shoes from the doormat. You couldn't believe George had remembered your off the cuff remark from early this morning, but somehow his comment felt more like a raincheck, than an invite. And whether you were hungover or paranoid, you couldn't tell.

So you took the cue to gather your things, opting to carry your shoes and stood in the doorway.

"You know where to find me, then." You offered, too afraid of agreeing right off and seeming too desperate to spend more time with him. You wished George good luck with all his movie star duties for the day and sulked on the long walk back to your shitty matching room.

___

Your day was spent ordering room service, exhausted by the idea of going back out and about in all the madness that made up Vegas. You scrolled through a measly list of flights to take, opting to stay another night and hoping the storm would pass soon. Soon, the sun was setting and after a long bubble bath, you slipped into your favorite pair of pj's, planning to listen to some podcasts to make the most of this evening. But just as you finished cleaning up, a knock came at your door. You hadn't ordered more room service, and there was a sign dangling from your door handle warning away the maids.

You were surprised to find George on the other side of your door, looking happy to see you. You honestly hadn't expected to see him again, you thought your luck had run its course. And you spent the whole day trying not to reminisce over the way you'd grown more comfortable near each other as the night went on.

You greeted him with a smile, comfortable enough in your pj's when you noticed he was wearing joggers now, too.

"You shed the suit?" You laughed.

"I figured if we're having a movie night I better dress for the occasion," George smirked. You hung your head to hide your blush and opened the door wider for him to come in all the way.

Okay, so maybe you had failed to plan this far ahead, but you hardly cared what happened next. You and George floated to the sofa in front of the television, and he reached for the remote.

“Have you memorized the tv guide yet?” George prodded as you sat next to him, leaving a sliver of space for good measure.

“I’ll have you know I’ve been far too busy running around the city this weekend.” You smiled, turning your gaze toward the television, too skittish to meet George’s baby blue eyes this close up.

He clicked his tongue as if to say “what a shame” all while flipping through channels. He landed on Hallmark, tossing the remote down ceremoniously. You couldn’t help but laugh as the movie seemed to just begin.

“Is that Betty White?” You chuckled.

“You’re welcome.” George boasted over getting lucky finding this film queued up perfectly for the two of you on this spontaneous night. You spent a little bit laughing over the cheesy musical flares and dramatics that made up every great Hallmark film, this one included. But as the film played on, you couldn’t help but notice the bits of genuinely good storytelling peeking through.

George kept you laughing throughout the film, but near the end, both of you got quiet and watched in silence until the credits rolled.

“Damn. That was actually just a little bit good.” George spoke up, a little quiet. That’s when you noticed how close he’d gotten to you. The sliver of space you’d left at the beginning of the movie was now barely noticeable.

“Yeah.” You laughed, amazed by more than just the film. “This whole weekend has been surprisingly wonderful.” You spoke softly, daring to glance right at George, who had already fixed his eyes on you.

You couldn't tell who made the first move but the next thing you know, you're kissing him. You and George took turns sharing feather-light pecks, each of you chasing each other kiss after one ended. George was definitely the first to place both strong hands around the back of your head and kiss you like he meant it. You were nearly too stunned to kiss him back, but once you started the floodgates broke off their hinges and there was no turning back. You climbed into his lap and latched on for all it was worth because surely this was a dream and you weren't ready to wake up at all.

You savored the steady build of his fingers trailing down your arms while your kisses grew deeper, mouths pushing against each others like you’d been doing this for ages. Your hands had a mind of their own, creeping softly under the hem of George’s soft tshirt to his hot skin below.

"Hey," George gently broke your kiss and cupped your face in both hands. You practically held your breath as his shimmering eyes searched yours. "You okay with this?" George seemed to genuinely wonder. His voice was dripping with lust and his body was warm underneath yours. It didn't take a detective to read George like a book, but he still had the self-control and gentle heart to make sure you were comfortable. It only made you want him more. But you were still far too shy to say so, no matter your actions. So you bit your lip and hummed in sweet agreeance, wrapping your hands around George’s neck.

You watched George’s face stretch into a smile before he ducked his head to the crook of your neck where he let out a contented sigh before grazing his teeth along your skin. You squealed with delight when he swiftly pinned you down on the sofa to playfully pepper your face with kisses like something less heated was taking place.

"You know, now would be the perfect time to carry me from the couch to your bed." You rose an encouraging brow, reminding George of just this morning when he was too afraid of disturbing your sleep on his sofa that matched this one. George let out a laugh as he peeled himself off the top of you and picked you up bridal style in his impressively buff arms.

"Right this way, madame." George teased, carrying you through his bedroom door.

You had thrown the covers into place the best you could the last time you woke up here. George rested you gently on the bed, much like you were sleeping and he was afraid of waking you up. But your heart was beating fast enough to win a race, somehow increasing when George rested beside you, pushing your hair behind your ear.

“You’re very pretty, you know?” George blinked, whispering to you.

“I’m glad you think so.” You spoke back even quieter, reaching out to touch his face. He was so handsome it nearly stopped your heart. George leaned in for another kiss, this one slow and steady. You hadn’t felt so content in ages, you could have laid there kissing George forever and been happy. But then his fingers trailed down your side to grab your hip, and you swore you saw stars. George pulled your leg over his and now you were pressed against one another, kisses growing deeper still.

“This alright?” He asked almost timidly, as his fingers crept below your nightshirt.

“Yeah,” You breathed as George moved his kisses down your neck, and his hand to your chest. Your fingers splayed through his hair as he reached around your back to find the clasp on your bralette

“It’s in the front.” You giggled, feeling George smile against your skin.

“Very cute.” He hummed in your ear before kissing your jaw and finding the button. He shoved your shirt most of the way off, and you had to move out from under him to remove it all the way. Before settling back against the pillows, you pulled off George’s shirt so you could revel in the warmth of his skin.

You settled in his lap, each knee on either side of his hips throwing your arms around his neck and kissing him again, somehow still enjoying each brush of his tongue against yours like it was the first time. George signed into your mouth, each pleasant groan traveling straight down your spine. You rolled your hips against his, and George’s groans grew darker.

His fingers were lost in your hair and you found a steady pace to rock against him, drawing out longer whimpers from his lips with each new movement. Soon, his hand toyed with the drawstring of your shorts and he had to break away from your kiss to ask if he could take them off you could only muster an encourageable nod as your breath got caught in your throat. George laid you back, keeping those stunning blue eyes locked on yours all the while, only breaking away when he slid the last of your layers off. His fingers slid slowly between your legs as he laid next to you, pressing his forehead against yours.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty. How’d I get so lucky?” George spoke, you could feel his breath ghost across your lips while he went on building up the tension in your stomach. It didn’t take long for you to fill with fire, a contradictory chill shooting through your system. You couldn’t take it any longer.

“George,” You sighed, opening your eyes to look at him again, “need you.”

You watched his eyes go dark as he slowly moved away from you, slipping his joggers off and slotting himself between your legs.

“You’re sure?” He asked one final time.

“Please.” You groaned, placing your hands on his shoulders to brace yourself. With one last kiss on your lips, the Disney prince type, he pushed into you. If you thought the noises George had made before were beautiful, the ones he was making now could’ve moved you to tears. He found your hand and held it with one of his while the other slipped below your belly button.

Your heavy sighs and desperate moans synced up and you rode your highs on the edge of one another. George didn’t move off the top of you right away, instead, he stayed there with his face buried in your hair soaking up the quiet moment.

“That was wonderful, love.” George whispered in your ear as he fell to your side. You turned to face him, biting back a yawn.

“You’re wonderful.” You sleepily smiled. George pulled you against him then, and you rested your hand on his chest so you could feel his heartbeat. The steady rhythm puts you to sleep in no time.

___

The next morning came late, and the Vegas sun shone brightly through the space between the curtains you forgot to close.

George was still by your side, but you’d drifted apart in the night. So upon noticing his eyes were open and glued on you, you felt no shame curling up next to his side.

"This has been the longest one night stand of my life." You sighed dramatically, comfily resting your head on his broad shoulder. George was quiet for a beat and you were a bit worried you’d upset him. But then he spoke up, with a gentle voice saturated in sleep.

"Wanna see how long we can last? I don’t think I wanna stop waking up to you."

How could you say no? You’d spent the whole weekend saying yes to George, and look where it had gotten you. So you agreed to stay one more night in Vegas, hoping what happened there would last a lifetime.

───※ ·❆· ※───

Requests are open ♡

#george mackay #george mackay x reader #george mackay fanfic #george mackay imagine

203 notes · View notes

boxesblr · 3 years

Note

Shy here! God I love Shubble so much, she is doing her best and trying so hard and T-T, she's just so good! I really like how you write their friendship, my aro heart is singing! Shubble being clear in her boundaries while still trying her best is awesome and I appreciate her all around doing everything in her power to support the others. I can imagine she probably feels pretty useless at times or did feel that way in the beginning. Can she sense when someone isn't doing well, like how the medic can see someone's health bar as sort of intuition, is that a thing or am I interpreting it too hard? I really appreciate the sibling like relationship bc yeah, they exude that energy, sorry I don't make the rules. Considering she is the medic, would she know how to treat wounds as well, even though that isn't really a thing in Project Winter? Did anyone from the friend group ever get sick during those 23 days?

On that note, how does the reviving work in this universe? Is it like bandaging someone? Is there a scientist on the team in case someone actually dies? Or are they actually resurrecting him each time? But that seems unlikely because he can talk still. Or are the rules different?

Doesn't that also mean wounds stay/leaves scars? Poor Ze must have a lot of them and I bet the others didn't stay unscathed either :/

Also I was so caught up in the euphoria of having Shubble be there, I completely forgot that its about transformations hfgdhd. I also think its sweet how they help each other out, that's the content I like to see!

So far, we've got two confirmed roles if I am not mistaken and I am excited to see the others. Aphex is probably an Identity thief, considering how many times he's got that role in the game, but I am just speculating here tbh. I do wonder though, what would the traitors gain from sabotaging? If this is real life then they're not winning a game, but are simply stopping their friends from getting rescued. Wonder what's their motivation then 🤔

I relate to Ze a lot, I too don't have a feeling for time anymore 😔✌

Additionally, I like how you put in the whole "Ze sucks at taking care of himself in project winter" because yeah, he kinda does lmao (Maybe you wouldn't be freezing if you'd go back to the cabin, my man).

Anyways, that was a great chapter and I am thrilled!

(PS: Do you remember the time Ze called out to Chilled that he was dying behind the wall because he got mauled by wolves and then he did and it was horrifying (but also funny)? That in this context is traumatising lmao)

Hey Shy! Thank you again for reading and asking, I really appreciate it and it makes me so happy you wanna talk about this stuff :D

I love Shubble so much and I’ve been watching some of her Purge SMP streams which may have influenced how I wrote her here - she does a lot for her team and they’re not on too often, she’s an absolute carry. I think she has a sort of intuition for people but likely reading their mood rather than knowing when they’ll come down sick or anything. It’s likely the group has had some sickness during their time stranded but nothing too drastic, just some natural consequences of their cold environment The revival is supernatural and I don’t know how much I’ll be explaining in depth. I do have a backstory regarding that in mind though! As I hope to extend the story into other worlds, the scientist revival mechanic in PQ itself isnt relevant to that! it’s a very cool mechanic though! People will respawn in their own bodies for sure, we don’t know how visible their healed wounds are after death! Yeah I think that it’s really fun to have the hybrid/transformation AU but I also really love writing their interactions and their characters, especially Chilled and Ze and Shubble. In terms of roles there’s definitely not going to be a role for every person I think, but absolutely agree that Aphex seems to get ID thief soooo often in the game. It’s fun to think about who could fit what role for sure. The traitor stuff is a big question mark, maybe we’ll just have a super fun time with no betrayal... I remember once that someone killed Ze super easily because they bargained that he’d be one shot from death because he never takes care of himself, and they were so right. Especially with the digging objective, he just runs off asap to get some early grabs, which is why I’ve written him as so objective-driven Thank you again for taking the time to read and ask, sorry it took me a hot second to get back to you, I needed to wait until I could get on my laptop because answering on mobile was difficult. It’s really awesome of you to ask me stuff and want to talk about what’s going on in the story! Hope you’re having a great day, Shy <3

(That death would be super super traumatizing in this context and it was an amazing moment in the game aaa)

#Not Quite Myself #Thank you for your follow up ask and dont worry i didnt feel pressured!#I know tumblr asks can be super iffy!#ty ty <3

4 notes · View notes

imzadi-caskett-huddy · 4 years

Text

House, M.D. Fanfic (8/?)

Thank you to everyone who has taken time to leave a note on my story. I hope you continue to enjoy my kind of rewrite and/or additions to certain episodes! As always, I don't own House. If I did, Lisa Edelstein would have gotten the respect she deserved contact wise for a season 8.

As stated in previous chapters, the story follows the big picture laid out on the show, but with my own take on things. This chapter starts with Cuddy's struggle to keep it a secret from House about his previous diagnosis being correct. I should say that I REALLY don't care much for early season 3 Wilson, and I'm going to do my best not to let that affect the storytelling. This chapter is longer... lots of story development to get through.

Thanks to @love-hope-faith-feels-like-a-lie on Tumblr for reading my ideas and providing positive feedback! Anything in the way of feedback is always appreciated! Enjoy!

xxxxx

She was definitely not comfortable lying to House about this. He deserved to know he was right. She didn't know why Wilson suddenly thought he needed to teach House a lesson on humility and make her a party to it. "I have to tell him. I see him every day. I..."

"Everybody lies."

Wilson's words echo through her head that night as her head lay on his shoulder, her fingers tracing lines across his chest. "You were right."

He turned his head slightly to see her better. "I'm right about a lot of things. You're going to have to be a little more specific."

She pushed up slightly on her elbow, the sheet sliding down her chest a bit. "Your patient. In the wheelchair," she started.

He smiled slowly. "You gave him the shot."

She sighed, dropping her head back to his shoulder. "I gave him the shot."

"Why?"

"Because I know you. Because you see things the rest of us don't see. Because as infuriating as it is, you're never wrong about the medicine."

He smiled smugly. "I was right."

"Yes," she sighed, rubbing her face. "You're always right. The man stood up from his wheelchair and hugged his son."

"You weren't going to tell me..."

She looked up at him then. "Wilson thought it was a bad idea..."

"Wilson would think this is a bad idea too. That mean you're going to stop sleeping with me to get pregnant?"

"No, of course not..."

"Then why are you suddenly listening to him?"

She was quiet a moment. "You like the high. The night you showed up outside my window with your diagnosis, you were higher than I've ever seen you on Vicodin. We just worry about you."

"And yet you told me anyway," he pointed out, shifting to get up and grab his boxer briefs. He needed to walk. He needed to think.

She made a grab for his shirt and slipped it on. There was an argument brewing. "You're an addict, House. You're always looking for a fix. If it's not Vicodin, it's a medical mystery that only you can solve. If you don't have the puzzle, you get your high in my bed. Its all just a fix for you."

"That's what you think this is? That's all you think you are? A fix because I don't use Vicodin anymore and you told me no at work?" He spun around to face her. The look in her eyes said it all... she did think that's all she was to him. "I'm going home," he started pulling on his clothes.

"House, that's not what I said..."

"You said enough. I got my 'fix.' Keep the shirt." He headed for the front door.

"House!" She called after him. But it was too late as she heard the front door slam. She sighed and for back into bed. She should have said something. She should have told him him she knew she wasn't just a fix...because she did know. This had been going on for months... it was way past just sleeping together to get a fix or to get pregnant.

Her hand moved over the place he'd occupied in her bed not even ten minutes before. How had this even spiraled out of control that quickly? Sliding closer to his pillow, she inhaled his scent. She could hear his bike engine revving as he tore down the street, and she knew sleep was not going to come easy now in her empty bed.

xxxxx

"How's the leg?" she asked cautiously as she opened his door. She wasn't going to push too much since they were at work, but she was trying to judge his mood. Especially since he hadn't bothered to tell her that his leg was starting to hurt again.

He looked up from his desk and saw her entering his office. "My leg is fine."

"You're limping. Cameron thinks it's because we lied to you. We both know that I already told you, so that's not it. Is it because we had a fight?"

"Your breasts are different," he studied her closely, completely ignoring her attempt to talk about him.

She continued unfazed. "Wilson thinks I haven't told you, and that I'm feeling guilty and want to coddle you."

He shook his head. "You're pregnant."

"I'm not pregnant. How badly does your leg hurt?"

"Your breasts are firmer. As someone who had intimate knowledge with the girls, I would know," he stated. "You're pregnant."

"It's called an underwire. Tell me about your damn leg." She was not going to let him deflect by turning the tables on her.

"My leg is fine."

"Let me do a scan on your brain. If the Ketamine is wearing off..."

"Let me do a pregnancy test." They each wanted to test the other. Fair was fair, after all.

"House, I'm not pregnant!" she dropped her voice at the end, not wanting that word to escape the walls of his office.

"You've been taking fertility drugs. You've been getting laid on a regular basis, without protection. Your breasts have enlarged. You're doing crazy things, because I can't think of any other reason why you would ever listen to Wilson about lying to me. You're pregnant."

"You're not always right, you know."

"Actually I am. You said so yourself. I'm never wrong about the medicine. But you and Wilson would just have me think I'm wrong. You'd rather have me doubt myself and lie to me about it than tell me the truth and prove I'm right," he said lowly, massaging his thigh.

"House, let me look at your leg."

"My leg is fine!" After a moment, he dropped his head slightly. "Don't you think if I thought the treatment wasn't working that I'd do something to try to fix it?"

She sighed softly. "If it gets worse, call me." She knew she wasn't getting anywhere with him then, so pushing further was futile. He was still pissed at her for not telling him he was right. She was pissed at herself for going against her better judgement on this and actually listening to Wilson.

xxxxx

He hated that he'd had to grab his cane. He hated that he had taken the pills. He hated that he was now standing on her front porch, leaning against his cane, knocking on her door.

"Tell me the truth. Are you pregnant?"

She wasn't surprised to see him, not really. Not after the way they left things. She was, however, surprised to see him with his cane. "Why do you keep insisting I'm pregnant?" She moved to let him in.

"Why do you keep insisting you're not?" He studied her. That had, afterall, been the purpose of them sleeping together to begin with. She had been very actively trying to get pregnant. So why was she now suddenly opposed to taking a pregnancy test to try to confirm it when he suspected it?

"You're walking with your cane. That means the Ketamine wore off." Now she was deflecting.

"Or it just means I need my next fix. That's what you and Wilson expect of me anyway, right? No puzzle to take my mind off it. Time to give sex a whirl."

She crossed her arms. "That's why you're here?"

"Why not? You have been so eager to welcome me into your bed. Figure I'll get high on endorphins from mind blowing sex and walk out of here without my cane," he said sarcastically. He caught the hurt look on her face at his comment and looked away.

"Call one of your hookers if you want mind blowing sex. I'm not in the mood," she turned to walk away.

"Hookers can do the distraction. They can't do the mind blowing sex. They don't do what you do..." He took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. He'd crossed a line with that last insult, and he knew it. He'd tried to hurt her with it... knew just what button to push to get the desired reaction. "I took the Vicodin. My leg hurts," he admitted quietly.

She took a step closer then, resting a hand on his arm. "We can figure something out."

He shook his head. "Nope. Tried Ketamine. It didn't work. House the cripple is back for good," he told her simply. He'd gotten a beautiful glimpse into a pain free life, had allowed himself to hope, only to have it yanked away. "Probably for the best. I do my best work this way. Less likely to screw up diagnosing patients when I'm in pain. More likely to be an insensitive ass, but less likely to miss something and screw up the medicine."

"House..."

"Are. You. Pregnant?" his voice low, his eyes dark as he closed down any chance of continuing to talk about himself.

"No," she pulled her hand away and crossed her arms once more.

"Take a test?"

"No. It's not time y..."

"Then how do you know?" He interrupted her, moving closer.

"It's too early to..."

"Better to have another go then. Just to make sure it takes," he murmured lowly, pulling her against him in a kiss then. He was ready to lose himself in her and the way she could make him forget everything else.

At first she was going to push him away, but after a moment, her body melted against his, not bothering to stop him as he pushed her shirt up and over her head. He was in pain. He needed the distraction. Maybe she did too. Maybe she needed the high of sex with him even more than he did. Biting his lower lip as she deepened the kiss, she shoved him back against the wall hard.

He growled when his back hit the wall, his eyes darkening with lust, fingers digging into her skin as he pulled her roughly against him. His mouth moved to her neck, biting her pulse point hard and causing her to hiss, before soothing the spot with his tongue. She'd have to cover that with makeup tomorrow.

Her hands started pulling at his clothes as they worked their way to her bedroom. He closed the door with her body, pushing her back against it as his hands slid to her thighs and lifted her up, using the door to support the added weight so it didn't mess with his leg.

xxxxx

They finally both fell into her bed, breathless and in better moods. "Does that count as makeup sex? Or is that still angry sex?" He asked a moment later.

She lifted her head and couldn't help but smile slightly. "Shut up, House."

"I just need to know if I'm going to be expected to go another round for makeup sex, or if that was already covered..."

She grabbed her pillow from where it had landed on the floor earlier and smacked him lightly with it before shifting to get more comfortable in bed. "Shut up, House." But she did giggle softly to take the bite out of her words. She wasn't mad anymore. He didn't seem to be either. "Go to sleep."

#house #house m.d.#house md #house fanfic #house x cuddy #greg house #lisa cuddy #huddy

6 notes · View notes

escarlatafox · 4 years

Note

whispers for the 'send you a series' meme, i'm tempted to just be Unoriginal and say kung fu panda, but if you'd rather something else, i'm seeing a lot of steven universe around here jfjfiea

Masha ily. You know that, right? :D

Kung Fu Panda:

Favourite character: Who else but Shifu? XD

Second favourite character: It might actually be Po

Least favourite character: Hard to think of a least favourite character. If we ONLY count the main cast + the villains in the movies and exclude any other minor characters, then I’d say Kai maybe? Just wasn’t as impactful to me as the other characters/villains. Or if we include minor characters I might say the hugging panda from the third movie because the gag and his character didn’t really add much. Also, I’ve already spoken about this in the past, possibly more than once, but back when I was a child upon watching the first movie, my answer to this question would actually be Ping. Suffice it to say, my opinion on him changed a LOT. XD

The character I’m most like: Maybe I am like Po in some ways. At my core, I’m a fangirl lol. And I like food :O

Favourite pairing: Don’t really have any ships. Crane and the girl from that one short tho. Like idk if I’d want them to get together, maybe not now that I think about it. But it would be nice to see them interact more.

Least favourite pairing: HAH. Let’s just say I really hate what Legends of Awesomeness decided to do with Shifu in the shipping realm and leave it at that. :P

Favourite moment: YOU’RE GONNA MAKE ME CHOOSE? There’s no way. I could only list off notable ones. Okay, if we narrow it down to non-Shifu moments, off the top of my head, you obviously have the iconic cannonball scene at the end of kung fu panda 2, and in the THIRD movie I love love love how when Po is in the spirit realm and he says “turns out... I’m all of them” and the music swells and the framing and the scenery is just. so gorgeous . I love. So much. If I sat here thinking too long I’d probably start recapping all the movies SO since I’ve thrown those two out there I’ll cut myself off before I get too out of hand. XD

Rating out of 10: First movie is just 10/10 for me. It’s my favourite movie, not just in the franchise but like, probably ever among movies in general, and just about every moment and scene feels like home when I watch it. The trio of movies I’d then put at probably around 9/10.

Steven Universe:

Favourite character: I can now say with confidence that it is Steven Universe.

The people who liked Steven “before it was cool” certainly have bragging rights, because I was one of those people who failed to find myself among them, as I lacked the foresight, or... future vision for it. :P. At first, in the very early days, I didn’t really care for Steven. It’s often very easy to gloss over a protagonist, and, in my case, not truly appreciate what’s great in a character like early-days Steven, or even Po. Now, Steven and Po are, naturally, quite distinct characters in their distinct franchises but there are certainly parallels that can be drawn, not only in their character but how I initially felt towards them. By asking for both fandoms in the one ask, I feel like you’ve given me the opportunity to speak about this, which has been idly on my mind every so often. XDBoth Steven and Po are the protagonist of the franchise they’re in. They’re both fond of food, they both start out needing training and then develop incredible skills along the way until they become one of, if not the most powerful in the cast. They’re both generally very easygoing, excitable, enthusiastic, FRIENDLY, and generally kind. At the start of their journeys, there’s a lot of focus on how much they’re lacking in skills and abilities, how difficult it is for them to accomplish even the basics. They both gotta Save The World, whether it be more in the sense of the universe as a whole or China.And the thing is I had the same issue with Po as I did with early-days Steven; I didn’t realise how great Po is. I was just a little too dismissive. With time, (and I’m talking around the point where I actually entered the fandom after the second movie was out, so it was mostly kid me who is guilty of not recognising Po’s greatness) I grew to realise just how cool Po is, to truly appreciate his genuine enthusiasm and excitement and also utmost reverence and admiration of kung fu. I simply Expected Po’s character to be less than it was, which is what caused the oversight. But Po is honestly so fantastic and deserves every last bit of love the fandom has to offer him. Also, seeing his potential and him reaching his potential is so damn epic. See: his “turns out, I’m all of them” quote/scene I mentioned earlier.So to bring things back to Steven, whose character arc nonetheless has its VERY stark differences from Po’s, it was around when Steven managed to calm down and stop the cluster that it fully registered in my mind how fantastic and amazing he is and how much I appreciate his character. In fact, it was a little earlier than that. Pretty sure I hadn’t actually started watching the show yet when Sadie’s Song aired, but I was getting all the deets secondhand on my dashboard and I loved what I heard and saw in gifs/pics. A boy who just wants to perform and dance around on stage in heels and a gorgeous outfit to boot (I really liked the thought of trans girl Steven at the time tbh, which was being thrown about on my dashboard back then, though of course that’s not the path the show decided to go down, so he/him it is...!). He had my full support. And THEN when he calmed the cluster down like that... (and I think I was probably watching the show at that point?) I just, loved his incredible talent to reach out to others and HELP them, I loved his magical gem abilities and how he always seemed to be triumphing against the odds, and as the show progressed his feats only started getting more and more impressive. I absolutely noticed how much responsibilities he’d started forcing onto himself, how he was trying to manage everyone and be an adult to all the adults in his life, I was kind of intrigued by how much he was shouldering, and it struck me that he had developed an Atlas Personality long, long before he was ever listed as an example of it on the wikipedia page. I simply adored Steven and his placement in the show and everything.He’s also completely ACING things as usual in the movie too.And then Steven Universe Future hit, and oh boy, that’s a whole other story. Steven truly emerged as the forefront seeing as the focus was now unrelentingly on him and his issues. What initially got me really hooked as well, was the inherent shock and intrigue of seeing a character who would usually always do the right thing, who always seemed to know what was best for everyone, who always seemed to be able to read a situation and understand who needed help and then reaching out and offering them help... not only completely failing to recognise that HE was the source of a given problem (see: the pink dome rapidly closing in), but to actively dig himself deeper by being convinced SOMEONE ELSE was at fault, and whirling around and trying to pin it all on them. Before Steven whirled around to point at Lars, there was absolutely no doubt in my mind that he was about to be like “guys, you know what? I think I’m causing this - I think I have some stuff going on” LOL NOPE. And that was only the tip of the ice berg. Steven had nowhere else to go but down, and boy, down did he go until he hit rock bottom, pulled out a shovel and started digging.

Second favourite character: Hard to say. I do know that I am crazy about the zircons (I mean c’mon - lawyers!). I was crazy about Blue Pearl when we first saw her too. My answer might’ve been Aquamarine or even Eyeball if it wasn’t for Steven Universe Future. Seeing more of them just kinda made me go “ok you know what, yeah this isn’t really what I expected and they’re not actually really my thing after all.” I reeeeally don’t know. Steven Universe has such a stellar cast of great characters. Steven Universe Future also kinda threw me off Spinel, but obviously Spinel is A+ as well.

Least favourite character: I don’t really care about Lapis. She just kind of lost appeal as a character to me and I never really understood her I guess. I was also never fond of the diamonds... because you know, discourse, and like, the discourse kind of has a point. But after Steven Universe Future I might invest more in trying to understand their positioning in the show a little more, now with the confirmation that Steven never did actually forgive them. I completely wrote-off White Diamond’s seemingly quick turnaround for the longest time and honestly never bought it and felt it was WAY too easy and rushed/forced. But I came to an internal understanding quite recently and I THINK I finally get what the show meant there so I think I can buy it now and find it believable at last, which is nice. So don’t quote me and don’t crucify me, but I might warm up to the diamonds a Little.

The character I’m most like: omg. There’s so many characters idk who is most like me hahaha

Favourite pairing: Connverse. Connie kissing Steven on the cheek in the movie made me SO pleased, and I can say this is my favourite pairing if only because the prospect of it not working out and instead going up in flames and not actually having a good resolution - which is a threat that felt so very real during Steven Universe Future - was deeply, DEEPLY upsetting to me. Like I didn’t care because I’d been taking it for GRANTED, but the moment anyone suggested, with alarming plausibility that they may split up or whatever, I was immediately on edge like “NO NO NO NO NO”.

Least favourite pairing: Stevinel. Stevidot. Just, any ship with Steven and any of the gems is an instant no from me. D:

Favourite moment: omggg. Again, there are simply way too many, so no answer I give here can or will be definitive. So I’ll simply state my love for when Steven is singing Change and Spinel yeets him in the sky and there’s the stellar animation where he goes “You can make it different... You can make it right! You can make it better! We don’t have to fight!”

Rating out of 10: I’d probably give it a 9/10, if only because, look. There are a LOT of shows out there. There are a lot of pieces of media I’m into and have watched. And Steven Universe is just. It’s good. Even when I like another piece of media MORE than Steven Universe, I can still more than readily acknowledge when/if SU has vastly superior writing. And it usually does. The only thing stopping me from giving it a 10/10 is because for the vast majority of SU’s existence I was mainly only ever a passive watcher/fan and/or got secondhand knowledge (closer to the start of it airing), so it lacks that fundamental closeness to my heart that something like Kung Fu Panda has. (Though I got way more close to it during SUF, as my reblogs can attest to LOL). The other thing stopping it from hitting that 10/10 is there are things I still take issue with, like how the Rose=Pink reveal undermines Pearl’s character (the “rebellion” aspect) and casts an EXTREMELY uncomfortable light on Pearl being in love with Rose. Yes, the show already showed us that Pearl’s obsession with Rose is unhealthy and problematised it. But regardless of how problematised it already was, I’m just not comfortable with a former slave being shown as being in love with their former master at all. What does that add, realistically? There are other valid criticisms that have been pointed out, namely how aspects of the show such as Sugilite’s role in Coach Steven do fail its Black audience. That undercurrent is there and it’s unfortunate.

#mashanevershutsup #ask #asks #THANK YOU I was actually feeling unhappy and you sending me an ask like this kinda cheered me up?#Gotta love that Human Interaction #long post

4 notes · View notes

punkscowardschampions · 4 years

Text

Lux & Dash

Lux: Hey 😊 Lux: wanna hang out today? Dash: Bummer! There's no way Dash: I promised Sapphire we'd hang Lux: Can't I come with? What are you doing? Dash: she wouldn't be down Dash: you get the picture, yeah? Lux: I don't think I know Sapphire...? Dash: she has a groovy Cleopatra vibe Lux: 🐍🐍🐍 love that Lux: you gonna be Marc or Julius? Dash: Who did she dig more? Lux: You're more of the Antony type Lux: they had their own drinking club called inimitable livers Lux: and they played pranks on people in disguise Dash: Right on! Lux: I hope your love affair doesn't end in such dire circumstances Dash: it'll be outta sight, don't sweat it Dash: she's made loads of her own promises back Lux: She's not the sister of anyone is she? Dash: Onyx but he's cool Lux: Hmm, actually, my point is moot regardless, if she's Cleopatra, it's Octavia's brother you need to worry about Lux: Cleo could 💀 her own Lux: never mind then, you should be fine 😁 Dash: you know how to lay a real trip, huh? Dash: I almost forgot Lux: forgot about Marcus Antonius?! Lux: don't wanna be doomed to repeat it, Dashiel, think on Dash: no doom in my 🔮 babe Lux: 🌈✨ good times Dash: that's more the shit to 🗨 into being Lux: I don't think you can blame the eventual fall of Rome on me being in your inbox when you'd rather I weren't 😄 Dash: No blame, I just gotta do my own thing Lux: do you think any of us can ever be unique Dash: Beats me, that's heavy 💭 Lux: I thought that's what you were getting at Lux: Bummer Lux: I'll ask around Dash: I'm not trying to get into anything with you Dash: later, maybe Lux: You aren't going to have an answer for me later Lux: Don't sweat it, Dash Dash: if you wanna go ahead & cut me some slack I'll have magic for you Dash: just not now Lux: It doesn't matter Lux: I want conversation and someone to hang with, you want neither, that's chill Dash: what you want isn't a bad scene but it's not mine Dash: I can turn you onto someone whose it is, you'll have a blast Lux: that's okay ✌ Lux: I'll make my own friends, continue to Dash: Cool Lux: godspeed 🚀 I will let you know my findings 🗳📋 Dash: you know where to find me to lay whatever you want on me Dash: 🍎🍏🌳 Lux: what do you like most about 🍎🍏🌳 there Dash: 👀 Lux: good answer Lux: the ☀ looks best through 🍃🌳🍂 Dash: & the sky looks 🍒 from that high Lux: 🍒🥧 sounds good Dash: I'm hip to that Lux: does that mean you're going to make one? Lux: I'll get the 🍨 a la mode or nothing baby Dash: you're the girl, why aren't you making it? Lux: ha, I wasn't raised one though, so that kind of nonsense does not work on me 😅 Lux: I like brown sugar and cinnamon on the top please Dash: I'll find a 🐤 who's not wise to it & pass that on Dash: but they won't be fitting an apron how you would ✨ Lux: I don't want deception pie Lux: it will taste all the bitter for it 😖😖😖 yuck yuck yuck Dash: I'll pick the 🍏🍎🍐🍊🍋🍌🍉🍇🍓🍈🍒🍑 for it Dash: keep it sweet & honest Lux: make me a basket Lux: that way you get to be sweet and I don't have to participate in any misogyny for baked goods Dash: What's with the goddess demands when you know I've got demands on my time? Lux: you're so busy, right? Dash: 🚀🪐💫 Dash: I can't be weaving you a basket like it's no biggie Lux: well that is not what I meant 😏 Lux: but if you can't handle it then I'm sure I'll manage just fine Dash: weave a 🐤 a basket and she's 💖 for a day, teach her to basket weave... Lux: how very like a man to claim mastery over a skill women for centuries just did because they had to Lux: you had your chance to be 👏 over your pastry making expertise but you declined Dash: how righteous of you to keep the faith on that belief but yo, can you do it? I can Dash: declining everything I can teach you is a bad trip to be on Dash: you said you weren't down to feast on bitter fruit, that's gotta include sour 🍇 baby Lux: It's a very wholesome past life you've painted for me if I somehow acquired that skill Lux: certainly a prettier picture than the truth alas Lux: I haven't declined any invitation Lux: that's you Dash: I haven't either Dash: There's a time & a place for us to reconnect Dash: after Sapphire's Dash: & Lotus' Lux: your schedule isn't going to dictate mine Lux: we'll see when that time is Lux: 🌍🌌💫 willing Dash: come & 👀 me then Dash: it'll be unreal again Lux: you want me to watch you from the nearest 🍎🍏🌳? Dash: or 🌌 til the 7th day of the 7th month if you still vibe with that story Lux: That's an interesting way to inquire about my faith Lux: you'd make an excellent youth pastor Lux: 🤭 Dash: you've heard me play 🎸 Lux: and your cool lingo Lux: yep, it is indeed your calling Lux: we'll start your bible study as soon as the 🌍 is ready Dash: sounds like a drag Dash: how are we gonna make it fun? Lux: 🍪🍪🥛 and fellow youths, duh Dash: if you're gonna teach me it needs to be visual Dash: that's my way Lux: really? Lux: well, I'm going to need all my creativity and crafting skills to recreate Noah's Ark Dash: Moses'll be easy, I'll weave a basket for real Dash: he's the one, yeah? 👶 Lux: that's him Lux: have a whole cast of 👶 to choose from Dash: & animals Lux: I'll just try to avoid being like Sarah and 👊 all the mothers in envy Lux: not a good look Dash: I can get you a baby 🐈 if it'll keep the peace Lux: 😄 it'd be a whole other story if that's what Abraham had done Dash: he coulda taken 5 & let me 🛹⚡️ to my nan's place Lux: a man who marries his sister and needs to populate the 🌍 ain't got no time to chill, Dashiel Dash: the more you tell me, the more he fits into my family 🌳 Lux: 🤨 🧐 Lux: you're holy too? Dash: last time we got together you seemed to 💭👀🗨 so Lux: false prophets hold a certain amount of appeal, of course Dash: what was false? Lux: well, it's not for me to say you weren't speaking the word of God, I suppose Lux: but it's also a big no-no to worship false idols, it's in the big 10, so Lux: very tricky, actually Dash: Do you want me to try & make amends or what's left of the other 9? Lux: How many of do you think you've broken today? Dash: tell me what they are Lux Thou shalt have no other gods before me Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain Remember the sabbath day, to keep it holy Honour thy father and thy mother Thou shalt not murder Thou shalt not commit adultery Thou shalt not steal Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbour Thou shalt not covet Lux: score out of 10 please Dash: what's a graven image? Lux: that's the idol part Dash: right on, I don't have time to like carve a statue of you & worship it but the intent is there Dash: no adultery or murder either, but the rest Lux: well Lux: consider me appalled not shocked 😳 Dash: what's your score? Lux: 3, I think Dash: you covet the fruit for a pie & Lux: Yes 😘 Lux: and I am not honouring my father or mother and I've put myself before god so Lux: I think those are the only ones, though arguably referring to myself like that is taking it in vain but I wasn't the first one to say it Dash: that's the shit you should ask around about 🗳📋 /10 Lux: maybe I'll do weekly questionnaires Lux: no one else is as mad as you were to be compared to Mark Antony but A LOT of people think we're all ❄️ Dash: beauty enough for ❄ & false idols Lux: Sculpture isn't my forte but I'll do my best Lux: you'll have to stand still long enough for me to 👀 Dash: I don't think I can Dash: we're poetry in motion, I know you felt it Lux: I'm not in the business of denying what I feel Dash: you haven't grown a totally different head since I last 👀 you Lux: now that WOULD be impressive Lux: stuck with this one only Dash: stuck makes it sound like that's a bummer Dash: looking how you do could NEVER be a drag Lux: you've not lost your charm either Dash: every compliment I've given you before, I would give you today Lux: damn timing Dash: Meet me under the 🌙? Lux: I shan't turn into a 🎃 Dash: I won't turn into a 🐀 Lux: then I don't see why not Dash: Then I'll be waiting for you Lux: Patiently? Dash: you already know that's not one of my virtues Lux: 😇 takes a lot of hard work Dash: you're the 👼 Lux: I do like hearing it Dash: I'll write you another song Lux: you keep writing songs for everyone, no wonder you've got no time Dash: school's that much of a hassle, it's that or crash 💤 Lux: what don't you like about it? Dash: I don't like anything about it Dash: nothing radical ever happens Dash: & there's way more commandments than 10 Dash: I could be spending my time here on the farm, helping things run smooth Lux: Hmm Lux: Interesting Dash: I read, I know shit Dash: I can write and do maths Dash: understand people Lux: and you feel like that's all school has to offer you? Dash: I don't see why I have to do x or y number of years more in an institution Dash: there's nothing I can get there that I can't get in the 🌍 Lux: I'll add it to my survey ideas Dash: 🤯💭 Lux: 🐝🧠 or 🎨🧠 Lux: only time will tell Dash: I'm hip to it being about getting out of just being around the same 🐈 & 🐤 Dash: meeting people with different vibes who you probably won't dig Dash: but I've got my bro for that Lux: the footballer Lux: I remember Dash: my dad & his piece too, they're drags in the same way Lux: what do you bond with your dad over? Dash: I don't Lux: is it like school and you're not bothered though Lux: or is it a shame Dash: Do I 🌠 he 👀 me? Used to Dash: not a rush I need to chase now Lux: I get it Dash: He's got the ⚽🏆 son he wants & I've got a family here Lux: it's not a good enough replacement though, is it Lux: no matter how nice people are here, or wherever I end up next and after that Lux: I'm never going to hear the people I grew up with, who loved and raised me, call me by the right name Lux: or daughter, or sister Dash: You're not gonna stay? Lux: this place was made for moving out, right? Lux: it's transient Dash: they can love you, raise you, you don't have to split Lux: I've been raised but Lux: I get what you're saying Lux: when I put roots down again Lux: it needs to be for keeps Dash: this can be for keeps Dash: it is for me Lux: we had some travellers at my daddy's church for a while Lux: 'til they got moved on Lux: places like this Lux: it's never forever Dash: What's forever? Not my parents marriage or my dad's football career Dash: if we have to go we go together, all of us Dash: new buildings maybe but the same family Lux: I'm glad that you have that Dash: you can Dash: you're welcome & wanted Dash: nobody here is related to me by blood but we're still connected Lux: I know, everyone has been very welcoming Lux: on the whole Dash: you can get comfortable, this place has been here years Lux: alright Lux: anyway, didn't Cleopatra show yet? Dash: She'll be waiting for a mirror Lux: huh? Dash: she's not cool with coming to me before checking what she looks like Dash: as if I've never 👀 her Lux: doesn't it feel Lux: Abraham and Sarah vibes Dash: what do you mean? Lux: incestuous Lux: because you say they're your family Lux: but you sleep with them Dash: she won't stay Dash: a tourist Lux: and you only sleep with the ones that won't stay Dash: they sleep with me, it's part of the tour Dash: you remember Lux: Cool speech there then Dash: I don't always get it right, like Dash: I thought that was your vibe, it's not Lux: no, you were exactly right Dash: Lux, come on Lux: it's family to you Lux: you don't care about the endless stream of fucked up girls who can cross here off their nowhere left to go list Lux: what they might be searching for Lux: never mind you actually have a home, somewhere you could be Lux: I was beyond wrong about you Dash: Don't fucking frame it like that Lux: 'cos you did a brilliant job with your narrative Lux: part of the tour, give me a fucking break Lux: you know, you aren't superior because you choose to be here, it's the opposite Lux: what kind of person lords that over people who have no choice, nowhere else they can be Lux: what the fuck Dash: that's not what I'm doing, chill out Lux: just don't Lux: you have no justification, you have no reason Lux: and clearly whatever you are doing here is going unchecked so whatever Lux: I'll be gone soon, but just know, I fucking see you Dash: I told you before we started, you set the pace, everything we did we both wanted to do Dash: nothing I do needs to be checked Lux: so you're that guy Lux: it isn't only bad if it's some serial killer down an alley and the girl is screaming and crying no Dash: You're making this way heavier than it is Lux: You don't get to tell me what I'm making it Dash: I don't get why you're twisting everything Lux: I haven't twisted anything Dash: we had fun, you said you liked me Lux: this isn't a straight issue of consent Lux: it's the fact that I know you knew I was vulnerable, I told you things, why I was here Lux: and you think it's acceptable to fuck people who are in that position, and you can't deny it because you literally did it to me, because, you know, they won't be here long Lux: and to have the nerve to advertise this place, these people, yourself, as a fucking safe space Lux: family Lux: that is insanely fucked up, I don't know how no one has ever told you that Dash: you can back off this witch hunt, yeah? Dash: you're not the same as Sapphire or Amber or Lotus or whoever Dash: they don't tell me things, it's not the fucking same Lux: Well I'm definitely sorry I did Dash: that's all been shallow, this got deep, you know Lux: I don't think I know anything about you Lux: not really Dash: You're just flipping out, I flipped you out Dash: but I didn't mean to & you don't mean that Lux: I just need to not be here right now Dash: Lux Lux: It's fine Lux: I mean, it's not Lux: but I'm leaving the main house to go for a walk, so just don't let me see you, okay Dash: You're not gonna tell anyone, are you? Lux: excuse me? Dash: all that shit you said about how it's not a safe space Lux: who the hell do I have to tell? Lux: and that's the worst part Dash: There's loads of people you could, but it's not true Lux: for a second there, you almost sounded like you gave a shit Lux: places like this will always exist, I'm not under any illusion I can stamp them all out Dash: I do! Dash: maybe I fucked up but that's not the farm's fault Lux: I'm not going to the cops, I have nothing to tell Dash: my head didn't go there, there's loads of good people here, doing beautiful things Dash: if I'm not one of them, that'll be my karma Dash: you don't have to leave Lux: I'm not Lux: that's your karma Lux: someone needs to stick around so there's some sense of consequence for your actions Dash: you don't have to go full avenging 👼 on me Dash: I won't be going heavy on you Lux: It's not a joke, Dash Dash: I'm not 🤡ing Dash: nothing uncool needs to happen between us, I'll give you space or whatever Lux: You're afraid Lux: aren't you Lux: that if I tell what you're like, girls like Cleopatra won't go near you anymore Lux: Jesus Christ Dash: I don't need to be afraid of that, I told you, we're all having fun Dash: there's no big soap opera vibe Lux: Fuck off now Dash: Ask Amber, she was mad at me before you but not like that, you've got this wrong Lux: I haven't got anything wrong Lux: this is what you did, to me, that's the end of Lux: you can tell yourself what you like about the rest, that's no concern of mine Dash: Nah, we talked about it, how I've done shit before that's 💔 & you said you didn't care Dash: that I couldn't hurt you Dash: & that you could tell I wasn't a bad person Dash: Why are you just taking it all back like none of that fucking happened? Lux: Why did you prove me wrong in such spectacular fashion? Lux: there's a reason you prefer keeping things shallow, and this is it Lux: if the answer isn't a yes or it's cool, you don't want to know, you don't want to be checked Dash: The reason I keep things shallow is they're on a fly by, they don't want to stay & I don't wanna be connected to someone else that'll split on me Lux: you aren't the gatekeeper of this place Lux: and nothing's forever, by your own admission Dash: I am of myself & I do my own fucking checks, yeah? Maybe you don't have a heart left to break by your own admission but I'm protecting the one you don't believe I've got, like Lux: There's no world in which I'm feeling sorry for you right now, okay Lux: you do not vet every girl you fuck for her tragic backstory, cut the crap Dash: Gimme a break, I said talking isn't usually part of it, going both ways, wouldn't be very chill or shallow if it was Lux: Yeah, like I said, you don't care Lux: and that's your lookout Lux: but to give it that faux hippie bullshit about family and welcoming, when you mean only for yourself, fucking sucks Lux: don't bother pretending, just be honest Dash: it happened different with you, that's the honest truth Dash: search me why Lux: right Lux: I wasn't born yesterday Dash: I do care Lux: you should be a better friend Lux: to these people, the ones you care about Dash: yeah Lux: that's all I have to say Dash: I'll cool it too then Lux: I don't think you're evil Lux: but I don't think you're a good person now Dash: I can't change your mind? Lux: Of course you can Dash: by doing what? Lux: by being a good person or a bad Dash: Beats me how that's getting judged when everyone else already thinks I'm being a good person except you & my bro Lux: don't confuse people not caring either way for approval of your actions Dash: you want me to care more for people who don't, nothing confusing about that Lux: I said being good wasn't easy Dash: & responsibility isn't my bag, he takes all that on Lux: there we go then Lux: I'm not expecting anything Dash: like I said, I'm not giving you anything but space Lux: Whatever Lux: Goodbye Dash: I'm sorry we read each other wrong Dash: it hasn't happened before Lux: It's happened plenty before Lux: they leave Lux: your behaviour and attitude is bullshit and I won't be apologising to you Dash: chill, you've made your point Lux: it's not about making it, it's about you understanding Lux: but why the fuck should I care, actually Lux: you're right, way too confusing, way too hard, no point Dash: get out of here then Dash: I don't understand & you don't care Lux: I'm not leaving, remember Lux: and that's the fucking point, you'll have to get used to feeling uncomfortable with it Dash: you can split conversationally, was more the vibe Lux: no, Dash Lux: you don't control the conversation, the narrative, any of it, that's the 'vibe' Lux: if you're feeling some type of way, you should go, take some responsibility for yourself Dash: You're responsible for hassling me now Lux: Then leave Lux: you control you, I control me Lux: I'm not doing what you don't want to do for some notion of being the fucking 'chill' cool one here Dash: I don't understand this, that's why I don't want to Lux: I don't think you want to Lux: it's fun and it's easy to do fucked up things Lux: and if everyone else is doing them, or not calling you out for it, why not Dash: I didn't do a fucked up thing to you Lux: I've said you did Dash: but that's not the way it was Dash: I opened up to you to, I still am Lux: You tell me about the tour and then you tell me I'm different though Lux: How do you expect me to take you at your word when what you've described there is exactly what went down Dash: I showed you around & I've showed some of them around, that doesn't mean everything else that happened was the same Lux: you said it like you thought I'd think it was funny Dash: I don't know why I did that Lux: Be honest Lux: was it just to see how cool I was and how I could hang Lux: or was it because you forgot, and thought I was one of the boys Dash: that couldn't be further from how I see you Lux: okay Lux: that's something then Dash: I meant what I said when I told you you're like a song I can't get out of my head, how I wanted to live in all those moments cos of what they felt like Dash: it's only got worse since then Dash: I didn't wanna hurt you, I don't Lux: you didn't hurt me by what you did Lux: at least, not at the time Lux: it's what you said Lux: to have to put bad intentions to those moments, you must get how shitty that is, you at least feel that too Dash: I was trying to show you this is different Lux: my head hurts Dash: Yeah 🌪 Lux: make sure you have some water Dash: that's your magic 🔮✨💖 Lux: I don't think I have any right now Dash: You haven't lost it Lux: I just need to replenish Dash: Me too Lux: I'll wish you good luck on that then Dash: Later? Lux: Yeah Dash: 🚀🪐💫

1 note · View note

thebadguyalways-blog · 5 years

Text

Bonnie & Clyde || Tom Riddle x Reader ♧part 2♧

When I woke up in the morning the first thing I thought about was the books I stole. I sat up straight and looked around. The dorm was empty. I yawned and reached over to my bag while looking at the clock that told me it was exactly 11.00am. Luckily, t was saturday. I opened the book on dark magic and skipped a few pages until I came across something that peaked my interest.

Horcruxes.

I've read about them numerous times before. I have however never fully been able to understand how one makes a horcrux. I knew it involved splitting the soul but the next page was ripped out of the book. I yawned again while closing the book. I looked at my bag and picked up the book on Voodoo rituals.

I carelessly flipped through the pages, not really paying attention to the titles of different rituals. I was with my head somewhere else until suddenly a small spark shot through my middle finger. It didn't hurt. I in fact am nit even completely sure if I even felt it. It was more mental than physical. I looked at the page I was on and read the title.

'Wither away evil love spells and restore ones ability to love normally'

I was quite intrigued to be honest. Even though I was pretty sure I wasn't under a love spell, something told me that it would come in handy.

'Make a solid heart-shaped form out of dough or clay and carve the name of the person who cursed you.'

This wasn't like any of the magic we were thought in school. It was almost like a religion.

'Under the moon a day prior to the full moon dig a hole and put the heart in. And squeeze the lemon over it.'

I read the entire ritual and then closed the book with a sigh.

I put both books away and dressed myself and brushed my teeth before walking out of the dorms and into the surprisingly empty common room. Then it hit me and I rolled my eyes.

The first Hogsmeade weekend. There were three in a year. Some students have complained it wasn't enough. Others like myself think there are too many. I never really go. Got nobody to sign my permission slip so what can you do. I went to sit on one of the love chairs in the corner of the room rather than the couch in the center.

I looked around the empty common room to make sure nobody was there and grabbed the book on dark magic again since the voodoo one kinda creeped me out a little bit.

I tried again to find some more information that I wanted on horcruxes but was again unsuccesful. It was all for recreational purpouses ofcourse.

I heard some news in the corridors that muggles were dealing with some kind of criminal couple. They go town to town robbing banks and shops. The woman -I think her name is Bonnie Parker- is said to keep going on and on about how she wants to be remembered for a long time after she dies. She wants everyone to know her name. That's why they cause so much mayhem and chaos together. To be known by the people.

I wanna be remembered when I die. Also not just by friends. But by everyone. But in the wizarding world things like that are more complicated than just robbing a few banks and killing 3 or 4 people. I'm gonna have to achieve something big. But Bonnie and Clyde were my OTP. Even if thhey were muggles.

In that moment right then I decided that I in fact wanna be remembered and known by everyone. And I was gonna do anything to achief my goal. Causing mayhem and chaos isn't an exception.

I flipped through the pages again mindlessly thinking about something huge I could achief that will put my name in the history books when I was snapped out of my thoughts by the closing of the common room door.

I quickly closed the book and hid it behind my back. I looked up to see a pissed looking Tom Riddle walking into the common room. He was looking at me and raised an eyebrow.

"What were you holding?" He asked spitting every word with annoyance framing it.

"Um a book, what did it look like?" I asked sarcasticly.

"Don't act funny, what is the title of the book." He asked.

I rolled my eyes.

"Why are you so mad? And why do you wanna know what I'm reading?"

Tom huffed and walked over to me at a fast angry pace.

"I was in the library and I noticed my book was missing." He said.

"Um, it's a library. Students get books there all the time. Now if what you're getting at is that I happen to have the book you're looking for I'd tell you to leave because I really don't think you'd be into these kinds of books." I told him.

Why the fuck would he want a book on dark magic? This boy has the highest grade in all our classes, what can't he do with normal magic, that he can do with dark magic.

He narrowed his eyes for a moment.

"Just tell me the title of the book and I'll leave you alone." He negotiated.

I sighed. I was 100% sure I didn't have his book.

"I can't." I said honestly.

He raised his eyebrows as if asking me what the fuck I was getting at.

I sighed.

"You'll think I'm psycho, and you'll tell everyone and then I'll get in trouble." I explained.

He smirked slightly.

"I won't. Just show me the book (Y/L/N)" He sighed. The small smirk still present.

I groaned. "Fine" I said and slowly got the book from behind my back.

I handed it to him and he stared at it. His smirk was growing bigger. "What's a girl like you doing with a book on dark magic?" He asked.

I rolled my eyes. "You've seen the cover, may I have my book back now?" I asked him keeping my eyes on the book.

"No." he said.

I looked at him. He still had the smirk on his face with one eyebrow raised higher than the other.

"You said you wouldn't tell anyone and leave me alone." I said in a little bit more of a whine than I intended.

He chuckled.

"That's not why you're not getting it back." He stated. "You're not getting it back because it's mine."

I narrowed my eyes trying not to let him notice how surprised I was.

"What does someone like you need with black magic." I asked.

He raised his brows. "What do you mean 'someone like me'?" He asked.

"You know... someone that's good at every class and probably one of the most powerful students here." I described. "I'm just trying to say that you probably don't need black magic to make you a better wizard"

His facial expression turned into a amused one.

"You're oblivious to the fact that you are the second best student in Hogwards. No?"

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"That you have the best grade in herbology, transfiguration, divination and care of magical animals." He said "And you're second best in the rest of them exept for history of magic where you're third." he finished.

My mouth fel agape.

"How-" I started to ask.

"I wanted to know who I should see as a threat." He answered.

I stared at him. Right then was the first moment in my life that I couldn't read someones expression. Was he joking? Was he serious? Should I be worried?

"Don't worry." He said "I realised I'd much rather have you as an ally."

He stepped closer and sat down on the other love seat in front of me. He leaned over and placed his elbows on his knees folding his hands in front of him.

"Interesting." I said with an unnoticable yawn and put my elbow on the chair arm and leaned my head on my hand. "Tell me more." I said.

Riddle smiled.

"I wanna do something big." he said "Something bad."

I grinned at the way he was describing his plan. "Acting all mysterious are we?" I asked.

He shot me a glare.

"I've been watching you, (Y/L/N), for a while now. You have potential." He said.

I smirked. "And may I ask what exactly I have potential for?" I asked.

He shrugged and leaned back in the chair. "Still figuring that out." He said "All I know is that you're too special to stay unnoticed your entire life. You have to be known. A name everyone knows but is too afraid to speak. The persom every mother warns her child about. A face that lets everyone know that the world is ours. That's (Y/N) (Y/L/N), the queen of darkness, the dutchess of chaos, my Dark Lady."

He had his way with speech. Everyone knew that. This vision of his spoke to me in a way that no one other could. Even if someone else had the same vision, ideas or believes as Riddle. No one knew how to put his thoughts into words like he did. It impressed me, to say the least. I was high on the idea of being known, maybe feared by every single witch and wizard. 'His Dark Lady' I repeated in a whisper. I was als so impressed by the way he could actually make me believe him for a second. Even though I didn't doubt his believes. His intentions were another story. He wouldn't lie. He had too much pride, too big of an ego to lie about his plans. He just leaves a lot of his plan out. I know for a fact that he didn't tell me everything. I pity everyone who was truly stupid enough to trust Tom Riddle.

"What exactly is your plan?" I asked.

Riddle tutted while shaking his head. "You're going to have to prove you are trustworthy first." He said.

I rolled my eyes. "How." I asked. He smirked. "That's for me to know and for you to find out." He said before standing up and walking towards the door.

"Wait!" I called after him.

He turned around and looked at me expectantly.

"Will you tell me about horcruxes?"

2 notes · View notes

kittykatknits · 7 years

Note

"I do have thoughts on the potential baby and how it could play into the story along with what it would mean to Jon/Sansa as characters." I'd love it if you'd expand on this.

Anonymous said:Do you think Sansa will end up raising Jon and Dany’s child?

Anonymous said:I know you said you’ll do a write up and it’ll take a few days but can you please just answer this question: Will Sansa raise Jon’s and Dany’s kid?

The original plan was to do a longer write up after the season was over but I’m going to do this summary instead. It’s still ridiculously long. It seems like there are a number of frustrations, to put it mildly, with this season. I’m going to dispense with this whole Jon bending the knee nonsense, because it isn’t happening in the books. Then, we can go into the potential baby.

First, and this is a big surprise to me, is how much impact dropping f!Aegon from the storyline is causing. Honestly, I thought it was a good idea when first learning of it and am still pretty sympathetic to the decision. However, D&D are still trying to create, with varying degrees of success, the dance of dragons we are going to see in the books. It’s this change in the source material that is leading to the stand off between Jon and Dany. To put it bluntly, Jon kneeling to Dany is going to be a complete non-issue.

I think it is extremely unlikely Jon will be crowned the KitN, that’s a show-only invention, given to him for a variety of reasons. Right now, I’m playing with the theory of Jon as a King of Winter since it better matches with his story. Jon isn’t going to be king, he is not going to be in a position to negotiate or offer up the north.

Now, let’s talk about the wight hunt which led to Jon’’s offer to bend the knee. Sure, the specifics of how it happened are stupid, but the entire damn concept makes no sense at all. The WW are an intelligent race, they communicate, they have weapons, they have a purpose, even if we don’t know everything yet. But, wights can not go south of the wall. It’s enchanted, it’s got spells. Remember the rotting hand with Aliser Thorne? Realistically, if this happened, the only thing Jon would have to show for his efforts is a rotting corpse. He could dig up a random grave and get the same results, with a lot less danger.

So, about the big meeting at the dragon pit. Again, that won’t happen either. In the books, it isn’t going to be some gathering of nobles in KL (it will be all blown up by then) that alerts the Seven Kingdoms to the danger in the north. It’s going to be Sam at the Citadel. He’s perfectly positioned to know when the wall goes down and happens to be where the single largest collection of ravens is located in all of Westeros. Honestly, this is one of the scenes I am looking forward to the most, I expect to be crying over it.

Back to Dany, as I said, the show seems to want to keep some version of the Dance. This is why Jaime’s character is all over the place, because in the books he’s already filed for divorce. It’s one of the reasons Euron’s story has been changed as well because he sure doesn’t want the IT. As for Tyrion, he’s not Team Dany and is not going to be interested in forging some sort of truce between her and Jon. He’s actually going to play Dany and Aegon:

“Dragons,“ Moqorro said in the Common Tongue of Westeros. He spoke it very well, with hardly a trace of accent. No doubt that was one reason the high priest Benerro had chosen him to bring the faith of R'hllor to Daenerys Targaryen. “Dragons old and young, true and false, bright and dark. And you. A small man with a big shadow, snarling in the midst of all."

- Tyrion VIII, aDwD

In the books, I do believe Dany will land at Dragonstone, ready to conquer and take the throne. She’s going to be battling against Jon C. who will use Tywin-like methods in his efforts to secure the IT for Aegon. It’s going to be bloody, a lot of innocent civilians are going to be killed. There is a quote in the first (I think) Arianne gift chapter with a dragon dream that describes just how bad it will be. Dany’s conquest will come to an end after she blows up KL, killing an entire city’s worth of people. It’s only after this happens that Dany will finally turn her attention north to fight the WW.

In the meantime, Jon will have no crown, no houses sworn to him, and he won’t have the Vale. Kneelgate ain’t gonna happen, at least in the books. There’s a ton more regarding Northern Independence, the GNC, the “Dance of Wolves”, and other stuff that plays into this too, but they all reinforce the same conclusion. They aren’t going to marry to join the north and south, they aren’t going to mary for some grand political union.

Ok, let’s talk about the Magical Targ Baby. As I said earlier, Dany is not barren and she never was. At least in the books, if Jon has a child with her, it will be a bastard. It’s just like Martin to give Jon what he most wants, a child and family in Winterfell, and what he wants least, the child to be born as a bastard like him.

Now, will, the two of them have a child together? Maybe. Possibly. We don’t really have enough information to know for certain. Whether this happens or not, I do believe Dany will not survive the series. She’s going to go out saving humanity from the ultimate form of enslavement, fulfilling the messianic role as the breaker of chains.

As for Jon, he’s a rather straight-forward monomyth hero. He’s interesting and well-done (at least to me) but not particularly unique as far as characters go. In the show, Jon has reached the final stage of his journey, freedom to live, and is singularly focused on defeating the WW. The truly fascinating part, is that it was Sansa who came along on his journey towards the end. Like, that blows my mind every time I think about it. Sansa was the one at his side while he finished his journey. How awesome is that? In the books, we don’t yet know how Jon’s return home will play out, he’s still in the underworld.

We also don’t know what will come after. Will Jon go out like Neo, saving the world? Or will he be closer to Rand and Frodo, still alive but no longer able to be part of the world. Or perhaps he is Odysseus, longing for nothing more than going home again?

Before I go any further, I want to state, that I am a Jonsa shipper. I hope/want (like desperately so) them to be endgame but I will not say that is the case because I just don’t know. None of us do right now. I’ve also been reading these books for years and have learned to keep expectations low when it comes to my personal wish list. So, to get to a point here, I am not advocating for or wanting a Magical Targ Baby.

Frankly, this season has left me kinda depressed with aSoIaF, forcing me to think about the potential endgame for the first time in awhile and I’m not enjoying it.

If Dany does get pregnant, there are two options I foresee, neither of which I like. Dany is either going to die in battle and her child meeting the same fate. Or, she’s going to give birth and still die. If that does come to pass, I do believe the child will be raised in Winterfell by Sansa. As I said, I don’t like these options. Martin loves his dead mothers (“Lady Stark. She’s dead.”) and the idea that he would do this to Dany really turns me off.

Now, if Dany dies while pregnant, it flies really close to the idea of a Magic Targ Baby as sacrifice and the theme of death paying for life. The other option is that Dany gives birth and then dies saving the world. I can’t figure out how to make this work (that wall is on the verge of falling) in the middle of the war for the dawn. If this happens, Sansa will be raising Jon’s bastard in WF, a repeat of what came the generation before. I find this problematic too. There are a number of implications here I find deeply uncomfortable. But, it fits with Sansa’s story and the mother theme that keeps appearing in her arc.

Now, as to how this relates to Jon and Sansa. I’m going to assume, for this post, that Jon lives through the end of the series. If this is the case, Sansa will still be raising the child and be the only mother it knows. If the two of them get married, or end up together, it will be based upon a relationship of respect and affectation that will grow to something more. I am not convinced we will see all or even most of that take place on the screen/page. We will get a dream of spring.

I could go on and on but hopefully this answers some of the questions sent my way today. I will also say that I play around with and mull over theories constantly and tend to be very slow to make a final decision on what will happen. Like my “Jon will be remembered as a villain” theory or my ever-favorite “Sansa will never marry but give birth to a bunch of bastards” theory. My tendency to do this is what has kept the books fun for me so long, the idea of possibility. So, these are my thoughts, as they are today, in this moment. Ask me again in a month and you may get a different answer.

ETA: I’m not trying to depress anyone, sorry if this did. I’m trying to answer the questions as honestly as I can while also keeping my expectations low. I will also happily remove tags if they are upsetting anyone.

#anon ask #jon x sansa #jonsa #endgame maybe #feel free to ask #feel free to ignore

42 notes · View notes

lolcat76 · 7 years

Note

This prompt came to me for six senses. Not sure if it's something you'd feel like writing but here it is: Regina gives in slightly and starts to learn Braille and has no idea Robin is fluent in it and the discovery makes Regina fall in love with him even more than she already was.

Combining prompts here –the lovely @trina-deckers sent this prompt as well: Regina’s diagnosis getsworse.

As much as Regina Millshates to admit defeat, she can’t deny the fact that she is, at this point,almost totally blind. She’s skated through with all her little copingmechanisms for long enough, but she can’t read on her iPad anymore – the screenjust isn’t big enough. She can make out shapes on the TV, but as far as sheknows, SpongeBob SquarePants is guarding Winterfell and Sofia the First just admittedto poisoning Joffrey.

It makes for an amusingshow in her head, but the reality is…she’s out of time and options with regardsto her vision, and she needs to accept the fact that her new reality needs tocome with some new tools.

“Are you going to eatyour muffin, or are you just going to pick apart its corpse?” Robin asks.

She’s so distracted, shehasn’t even noticed that her breakfast is in crumbs on the plate in front ofher. She picks at the bits of streusel topping under her nails. “I guess I’m nothungry.”

“You don’t say.” She canhear the humor in his voice as he pulls her plate away. A swish, a thunk, andthe clattering of china tells her that he’s loading the dishwasher, and she hasto fight to keep her mouth shut, rather than reminding him that the plates goon the bottom rack.

“You remember thosealternatives that we discussed at my first appointment? I think I’m ready tohear them now.”

His hands meet hers,pulling her fingers away from worrying her manicure into oblivion. “Are yousure?”

Regina nods. “It’s timeto be an adult about this. I think…I think I’m ready to start learning Braille.”

***

When Robin comes homefrom work the next day, he hands her a small package. “This might help,” hesays. She tugs off the shrink wrap and runs her fingers over smooth cardboard,the bottom half with a series of raised bumps. “I figured while Roland is learningto read, you can help him.”

He brought her Brailleflashcards. Regina’s breath catches in her throat. She lifts the top card toher face, squints at it, tries to make out the shapes and colors, then admitsdefeat and drops it onto the stack. “Cat?” she asks.

“Table,” he says. “Fourlegs, though, so…close.”

She can’t help butlaugh.

“The alphabet cards arein there too.” He picks up the stack and shuffles them. “Here we are. Startwith A, and we’ll go from there.”

“I used to read Frenchfluently, you know,” she reminds him.

“Well, then, you have ahead start when you start reading Braille in French.”

“Chat?” she asks.

“Quatre…legs.? Closeenough.”

She works through thecards every evening, familiarizing herself with the raised patterns. On theweekends she has Roland, she quizzes him on the cards, asking him to spell outthe letters as she follows along with her fingers. For Roland, every new wordis a discovery. For Regina, it’s a reminder of how much she’s lost. Still, shetries to stay positive.

She has a master’sdegree, after all. Surely she can handle this.

***

Once she has the hang ofthe alphabet, Robin brings her workbooks. She doesn’t want him to be soinvested in helping her learn Braille, not when he’s already so invested inhelping her do everything else, but she can’t deny that he’s been beyondhelpful. Especially in the first few weeks, when she’d slammed the cards downon the coffee table and insisted that this dog was too damn old to learn newtricks.

“Nonsense,” Robin said. “You’re just tooimpatient. You’re learning an entirely new language. Give it time.”

“Time?” she snorted. “All I’m giving it istime. Do you have any idea how frustrating it is to have to pick apart eachletter in a word? Because that’s what I have to do here.”

“It won’t always be like that,” he remindedher. “Right now you and Roland are sounding out the words. Eventually, you’lllearn to recognize letter combinations with your fingers, just as you did withyour eyes when you learned to read.”

Robin picked up the deck, and she could hearthe fanning of the cards as he shuffled it. “Table. Dog. Bear. Apple,” hepaused briefly, “and cat.”

“You’re cheating,” she grumbled, more than alittle annoyed at how quickly he read off the words. “You can see the cards.”

He picked up her hand and guided it to hisface. He rested her fingertips against his closed eyes, then let her go to digthrough the stack again. “Zebra. Lemon. Igloo.”

“You know Braille?” she asked.

“Sweetheart, when you specialize in disordersthat lead to the loss of vision, you pick up a thing or two.”

She let her fingers drift down across theplanes of his face until she was resting her palm against his cheek. “You neverstop surprising me, you know that?”

He turned into her hand and kissed her palm. “That’sthe idea.”

She pulls the firstworkbook into her lap and flips through the pages with a sigh. She feels likeshe’s sixteen again and sulking because she has so much homework, but shedutifully rests her fingers against the page and starts working her way throughthe raised dots.

“Cat!” she cries out.

“We have to teach you anew word,” he replies, and she can hear the grin in his voice.

“No, not c-a-t! Cat! Irecognized it! Cat!” She’s so pleased with her own progress that she flings theworkbook aside and throws herself at Robin. Suddenly, she’s sixteen again, andkissing a cute boy is far more important than worrying about finishing herhomework.

***

“Ready for the nextstep?” he asks.

Sometimes, Robin is aworse taskmaster than her mother, and that’s saying something. “I suppose?”

He places a bag in herhands, and she reaches in and pulls out a heavy volume. “This isn’t anotherworkbook.”

“No, it’s not.”

She runs her fingeracross the cover, taking a few minutes to sound out the unfamiliar words of thetitle. “One Hundred Years of Solitude?”

“It’s your favoritebook. I know you’ve read it enough times to have it practically memorized, so Ithought reading familiar words in Braille might help build up your vocabulary?”

“This is a big step upfrom ‘the dog buries a bone in the yard,’” she mutters.

Robin leans in andpresses a kiss to her temple. “Something tells me you can handle it. Once you’redone with that, we’ll start moving on to Braille books in French.”

She can hear hisfootsteps retreating down the hall as he heads to the kitchen. “You know, sinceI’m learning a new language, it’s only fair that you do too. I’ll get you someFrench flash cards.”

“Chat,” he calls back. “See,I’m already ahead of you.”

***

He wasn’t kidding aboutbooks in French, she learned, when he dumped Les Miserables on her lap. Shewasn’t kidding about him learning French, and they trade off chapters, readingaloud to each other. Listening to Robin butcher French pronunciation sends herinto fits of laughter, and she knows it annoys him a little bit, but she can’thelp herself. It’s nice to have this one thing that she does better than him.It’s nice to get the chance to teach him something new for a change, even if heabsolutely hates it when she corrects him.

He hates it, but hereads aloud anyway, because he knows that it makes her happy.

They’re in bed when theyfinish the final chapter, her head resting on his thigh as he lazily runs hisfingers through her hair. She should be correcting him, but she’s just so…happyand comfortable that she can’t be bothered. He snaps the book closed, and shecan hear it land with a heavy thud on the night table.

“Next time, I pick thebook,” he says.

“Don Quixote in Spanish?”She burrows a little bit more into his lap. “At least then we’d both understandit.”

“Sí, favor,” he says,and she fights back a laugh. Even in Spanish, a language that he speaks wellenough to get by, there’s no hiding his British accent.

“Tráemela,” she says. Bring it to me. A story about a mantilting at windmills, facing impossible odds but dreaming nonetheless – it’sbeen years since she read it, but something tells her she’ll appreciate it morethis go-round.

She’s expecting a newbook when he comes home the next night, but instead he hands her an envelope. “Whatis this?” She runs her fingernail under the flap, tugging it loose and slippingout the card inside.

“I thought it’s time weembark on a project where we can both learn something,” he answers.

She runs her fingersover the Braille letters. Definitely Spanish this time, she realizes, and shecan’t wait to tell her father that Robin speaks his mother’s native language.She puts the letters together, one after the other, until the words click inher head and she drops the note.

“Quieres casarteconmigo?” she asks, dumbfounded.

“Sí, quiero casarte,” heanswers.

Casarme. Marry me. She’s in jeans and a t-shirt,her feet bare and her hair pulled up in a messy ponytail, and he’s asking herto marry him? She doesn’t even know what to say, but as usual, her mouth moveslong before her brain can catch up to the reality of what’s happening. “You’reasking me to marry you, in Spanish, and in Braille? Couldn’t you just get downon one knee like a normal person?”

He pulls her closeenough that her body is flush with his, then drops down, her hands stillclutched in his. “This is me, on my knee. Regina, will you marry me?”

She wants to answer him,but she’s finding it a little bit difficult to breathe. Yes, her brain screams, but the rest of her is paralyzed withshock.

“Veux-tu m'épouser? I learned it in French, German, Chinese andeven Tagalog,” he says. “You tell me how you want to hear it, and I’ll ask you.”

She’s more than happy tohear it in any and every language, to read it in Braille, to hear it spokenthrough her voice-text app, to learn Morse Code if that’s what he wants. Shecould answer in every form of yes she knows, but instead she drops to her kneesand pulls his face to hers, kissing him with everything in her, every emotionthat leaves the great romantic poets in the dust.

Sometimes words areoverrated.

#lolcat fic #six senses #oq fic #oq au #outlaw queen fic #Anonymous

65 notes · View notes