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clickerflight · 7 months

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October 2023 - Sandstorm: Part 10

Hecc yeah! 10 parts out. Wild times we live in. This part was a lot of fun to write and touches on some past whump and trauma with Laurance that I love.

Masterlist

Part 9

Content: Demon whumpee, mer whumpee, desert whump, stranded, cuffed together, cold whump, mentioned animal death that happened on previous part

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The two of them walked for hours, Laurance having to keep turning Matsu when he realized they were heading back towards the Oasis they came from, and when night finally fell and Laurance started shivering, Matsu stopped in his tracks, opening his eyes and staring unseeingly out over the sands.

The two stood together under the stars in the cold.

“Do you think you can keep going?” Laurance asked.

Matsu rubbed his eyes, wiping away exhausted tears. “No.”

Laurance nodded. He looked around, seeing nothing but barren sand for miles.

“Right,” he muttered, gently taking the stick from Matsu’s shaking hands, guiding the half mer to the base of a dude to at least break the gentle breeze that had started up.

Laurance sat down, shifting the sand to half bury the stick so it would stay through the night as Matsu sat down as well.

Laurance curled up, pulling his knees to his chest and shivering in the wind. Matsu pressed up against him, but Matsu was smaller than Laurance.

After a long minute, Matsu sighed. “Where do you want me?”

Laurance thought about it for a moment. “On my back.”

Laurance laid down, curling into a ball tight enough that he knew he’d be aching in the morning as Matsu made himself less of a spoon and more of a backpack. It wasn’t great, but having Matsu there helped a little.

Laurance closed his eyes, praying that he could get some actual sleep when Matsu said, “Laurance?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m really sorry. I should have let you-”

“No, no, you probably made the right choice. I can’t douse, you know that. Remember what happened last time?”

“Yeah, we really didn’t need that lava pit,” Matsu chuckled.

“No indeed,” Laurance snorted.

Matsu chuckled a little, trying to ignore the way Laurance shivered and trembled. “Do you think we’ll make it to the next Oasis in time?”

“We’re going to have to,” Laurance replied. “Go to sleep.”

Matsu sighed, trying to relax and shifting to get a little more comfortable.

……………………………………..

Laurance didn’t sleep well, but he did sleep. He was awake first, staring at the sand blankly. He shifted and Matsu whined.

Laurance slid out from under Matsu, looking out across the dunes. “Matsu.”

“Mmmmm.”

“Time to get going.”

“mmmMmmmm.”

Laurance snorted and he got to his feet, looking across the sands to try and see if they were being followed. He couldn’t see anything yet, but that didn’t really mean anything considering how easily the dunes could hide a couple of carromounts.

Matsu levered himself off the ground with a heavy sigh, picking up his dowsing rod from the sand. “Alright. Let’s see if we can find some water today.”

Matsu took the splinter firmly in his fingers, closed his eyes, and started walking.

The day wasn’t as sweltering as the day before, and around noon, clouds started to drift across the skies. Laurance watched them, sizing them up for their color and shapes while the clouds seemed to judge the two ragged adventurers to see if they were worthy of rain.

Matsu stopped, falling to his knees quickly enough that Laurance stumbled as the chain pulled taut between them. Matsu tilted his head back as the rain began to pour. Laurance sat beside Matsu as they cupped their hands, tilting their heads back with mouth open, gathering as much moisture as possible before licking up what they had captured in their hands. They were completely silent for the five minutes that the rain came down on them like a blessing, and then it was gone, and in another 10 minutes, the sun was back.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, the sun warming their heads and backs, rivulettes painted in their skin where the dust had been washed away.

Matsu sighed heavily, though it was less of a defeated sigh. It was more of a sigh someone made before they got back to writing a tedious paper.

Matsu picked up his splinter again and the two stood up.

They felt a bit better after the quick rain shower, and Matsu felt himself coming to life again for the first time in days.

“What do you think is keeping the others from coming to look for us?” Matsu asked.

Laurance thought for a minute. “Well, they were on a pretty tense mission. Uncover and all. Maybe they can’t leave to come find us.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” Matsu said, opening his eyes, though since he wasn’t looking where he was going, he was still able to do some proper dousing. “But, also-”

“What if the same person who hired those two did the same for Kira and Anisha?” Laurance finished for him.

Matsu nodded, closing his eyes again. “Exactly. Do you think it’s likely?”

“Likely? I don’t know. It’s certainly a possibility.”

“I know it’s a possibility, Laur, but what does your gut tell you?”

“Hmmm.” In their group, gut feelings were taken almost as seriously as fact. Especially if the gut feeling was from Anisha or Laurance. Though Laurances were usually more accurate, Anisha’s usually came on early enough to give them some more warning.

After a heavy moment of consideration, Laurance said, “My guts says… I’m hungry.”

Matsu snorted and elbowed Laurance, who laughed in return.

“No, but I don’t really have a gut feeling about it right now,” Laurance admitted. “I hurt in too many other places.”

Matsu cracked an eye open to look at the demon again, and that certainly looked to be true. Laurance was bruised nearly head to toe, his welts becoming angry purple lines here and there where he had been badly hit, sometimes bleeding out in patches like watercolors on wet paper.

“Speaking of, where did you pick up the rashes on your legs?” Matsu said, closing his eyes again.

He didn’t need to see Laurance to feel the wince, especially now that he was somewhat connected with his magic again. “While you had them busy I tried to get away on Trouble.”

“No,” Matsu said, horrified. He had heard Kulor shoot when Yor had Matsu pinned, fingers digging cruelly into the gills on his neck.

“Yeah,” Laurance said softly. “Got pinned when Trouble fell on top of me. He was a good carromount.”

“The very best,” Matsu murmured in response. “I’m sorry, Laurance.”

“I’ll be okay,” Laurance said, more shakily than one would expect.

Laurance had a bad track record with keeping mounts alive, whether they were sentient or not. Matsu knew Laurance tried not to show it, but it really bothered him. It took him so much longer to gain the trust of his mounts with him being a demon, so he got so much more attached to them than Matsu ever did with his mounts.

“I just,” Laurance said falteringly. “I just really wanted to take him back, you know? Especially after everything he did for us. It’s not fair.”

Matsu nodded, eyes still closed. “Do you want to take a moment to have a service for him?”

“.... Yeah.”

So, Matsu opened his eyes and they wound their way to a slightly rocky patch they’d been coming up on for about an hour or so.

Matsu helped Laurance arrange stones in the form of a symbol that was often carved into graves on the world Laurance had come from, then the two knelt down in front of it quietly. Laurance was holding a small lithops type plant he’d found as he shifted on his knees, the rocks digging into his bruises. He bowed his head and Matsu did as well, silently honoring the carromount’s sacrifice.

Finally, Laurance placed the lithops snugly in the soil and rocks in the customary lower left side of the symbol. Matsu reached out and touched it, reaching inside it to the water it just got from the rainstorm and speeding it’s growth. A waxy petaled flower sprouted from the center as Matsu leaned back and Laurance gave him a faint smile.

“I’ll miss you, Trouble,” Laurance said. “You were a great beast. A little clumsy, a bit of a handful, and I really wish I had shared my crumble with you when we made it that one night, but hopefully you’re having fun wherever you are.”

Matsu nodded. “And, you know what, Trouble. I’ll forgive you for stepping on me in the middle of the night on our first night. It was an honest mistake.”

Laurance snorted. He bowed his head one more time, raising his hands to touch his thumbs to his closed eyelids, his middle fingers on his forehead, pointer fingers pointing up and his ring and pinky fingers curled together.

Matsu did the same, and with that, together, they got up and continued their trek across the desert, leaving the symbol behind.

Part 11

#whump #whump challenge #october challenge #sandstorm #demon whumpee #mer whumpee #desert whump #stranded #cuffed together #cold whump #mentioned animal death #this one is def a softer one

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obscureoperations · 2 years

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okay, consider this scenario, December 31, 2021, almost entering 2022, so the reader decided to celebrate it by making Martin come 22 times (the last one being midnight), in every way possible, blowjob, fingering, pegging, regular sex etc, poor Martin is totally dry when you're done(lol)But he will have his revenge on you the next days tho!

22?!!?

Ooof.. talk about starting the year with a bang😏 I wonder how early in the day you would have had to get started.. morning I reckon. (geez is that even possible? lmao) Can you imagine, it's about a quarter to midnight and the boy is practically wrecked. The entire day ws spent either on his back...or with you bent over the back of the couch or his fingers entwined in your hair.

His hips ached, the muscles of his thighs threatening to spasm but at this point he didn't care. At first he thought i'd be damn near impossible, but you were...vigilant to say the least. Just when he thought he was utterly spent, you manage to coax out another orgasm.

With a shaky hand, he brushes the bangs from his eyes, warily glancing at the clock. Just ten more minutes, he knew he could make it, but was unsure if there was anything left. His fingers bunch at the sheets as you relentlessly piston your hips. The blunt tip of the scillicone peice causes him to see stars. His cock lay back sore but untouched.. bobbing against this stomach. So close--he was on the verge of tears but at this point it was actually starting to hurt.

"Y/n..." he calls breathlessly, your response was to card your fingers through his hair. Tugging gently, craning his neck back causing the boy to moan. At this point he begins to rut against you, each thrust of your hips threatened t send him over. The tip of the dildo brushing against that one spot--it causes him to lose control of the motion of his hips.

Panting, sprawled out against the sweat soaked sheets --he can feel it building. Deep in the very pit of his stomach. He felt.. funny. heels begin to dig into the bed as his spine arches like a bow. There was so much.. how was there anything left? His cheeks burned red at your startled gasp.. ropy white rivulettes spill across his stomach. Reaching his chest droplets landing on the sheets--

"Martin.. look at the time.."

#martin 1977 #martin 1978 #this is shit but im pressed for time and my hands r coldd!#I love it tho!#overstimulate that mans!

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ratchedspeach · 4 years

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What about Lana Winters reminiscing on Wendy?

Oh so you’re looking for pain tonight, are you little nonnie? Nevertheless, here you are! Also thought you should know I listened to A Burning Hill by Mitski while writing this. Give it a listen, I think it will inform my headspace (-:

I’ll Love The Littler Things

The stairway stands before Lana like a goddamned funeral procession. Dead leaves are strewn across the front porch, and where they do not cover the once whitewashed deck, she can see month’s worth of dirt and grime greying the surface. Wendy hates that. Lana sucks her lower lip between her teeth, chewing on the bits of dried skin she finds until she’s breathing somewhat evenly again.

She’s not able to speak about her in the past tense - not yet. She’s been free of Briarcliff for less than a full day. She’s talked to police officers, doctors, and more nuns than she’d ever cared to encounter. She’s told her story, told Wendy’s story. Still, she can’t speak it into existence for herself, because if she can just preserve that for herself, then the body on Thredson’s floor that she’d wept over and been forced to degrade remains anonymous. If she can talk about it like she’s still here, then maybe when she opens the front door, she’ll be met with the scent of pot trickling through the living room, with The Everly Brothets brother blasting over the record player, and Wendy’s smile that makes her black eyes crinkle.

She isn’t, of course. Stretched before her is the familiarity of a space she no longer recognizes. A chair at the dining table has been knocked over, dried blood and glass litter the hardwood floor, and a curtain has been ripped beyond repair. She fought hard. Lana blinks at a black box on the dining table. She approaches it with bated breath and slow steps until she’s within arm’s reach. Her fingers trace a line in the dust she finds settled atop it, and she clicks the latch.

Inside is a matchbox, some paper, and a distinct plastic bag of green. The weed’s scent is dull with time, and dry to the touch. It crumbles between her fingers, and with it goes Lana’s resolve. Tears push to the forefront of her vision, blearing her sight and mixing with the fine sheen of sweat permeating her cheeks and lower lip. She sucks in a breath and let’s it go too quickly, and then again, and again, until she can’t stop herself from seeing every moment that they had spent in this house; every Christmas they’d spent, every shower they’d shared, every dance they’d danced.

“God, Wendy. Ih-I’m sorry.” She wails, collapsing into a chair. The weed is held tight in her white knuckled grasp, and she clutches it to her chest, buckling at the middle so her forehead is practically touching her knees. Lana doesn’t know how long she cries for, only that it’s dark when she is able to break away from the rememberances.

Wind whips through the shattered glass of a window, and Lana shivers, the hair on her arms prickling. She pockets the baggie deep into her coat. She doesn’t move, not right away. Her time at Briarcliff has made her frail from malnutrition and sheer trauma, and she’s learned the hard way that standing too quickly usually sends her toppling over again. When she finally does stand, she’s not sure what for. She can’t bring herself to go to the living room for fear of seeing a photograph of them, can’t even fathom entering their bedroom for obvious reasons. Her fingers tap the cool metal of Wendy’s box, and she pulls it towards herself. It’s left a square spot of clean varnish on the table where it was protected from debris.

Something slams shut as another gust of wind bothers the broken window. Lana yelps, eyes screwing shut as her mind twists reality with the icebox in the basement that was once her prison. She drops Wendy’s box with a clamor, backing against a wall and letting her fingers scrape the wallpaper. Lana finds a light switch before she can allow the darkness permeating the space to play any further tricks on her mind. Warm light pools through the kitchen, accenting the dish left uncleaned in the sink, and the half empty bottle of wine on the counter.

This is all wrong. She shakes her head. All fucking wrong. She shouldn’t be here, not without Wendy. It feels like she’s trespassing on abandoned property; Lana supposes she is to some extent. The place had sat vacant for so long, a sort of limbo between the love and destruction that had taken place here. She wonders what she had been doing when Bloody Face found her. If she had died here, or if he’d waited until he had her in the basement. If he’d touched her here, if he’d -

“No.” She commands, electricity buzzing in her ears. She will not think of this, not here, not now. Not until she can bury Wendy, and give her the dignity she deserves. Thredson had taken enough from her, he would not take up any more space in her mind.

Exhaustion rattles through Lana’s system. She realizes she hasn’t eaten all day, but she can’t bring herself to open the fridge (she doubts there’s anything edible after so many months, anyway).

Everything reminds her of Wendy, but nothing makes her feel close to her. With the understanding that she is stuck living with the pain crackling through her chest, she makes her way up the stairs to the bedroom they once shared. There’s a set of pajamas draped on Wendy’s side of the bed. Lana perches next to them, fingers hovering just above the clover green material. She lies on her side, and her palm rests against the silk. The bed doesn’t smell like her anymore. Lana feels a damp spot forming on the comfertor beneath her.

When she wakes up, she’s still clutching Wendy’s pajamas like it’s a child’s security blanket. Lana rubs the last of the sleep from her eyes and cringes when her back protests as she sits up. Her head throbs, her muscles ache, Lana hasn’t looked in a mirror for months; she’s not sure exactly how long. She had caught glimpses of herself in the treys at Briarcliff’s bakery, or the various metal surfaces in Therdson’s factory of death, but nothing more. Her curiosity gets the best of her, and she pushes off the bed towards the bathroom.

The mirror presents her with a person she does not recognize. The rose of her cheeks is gone, replaced by gaunt cheekbones and a protruding jawline. Bruises and cuts litter her face and neck - some new, some fading. Her eyes are dull, her hair is brittle, her lips are chapped. Something catches the corner of her vision in the mirror, a flash of jet black hair.

“Wendy.” She breaths, spinning fast enough to create specks of black in her vision. Lana blinks hard, bracing herself against the bathroom sink. As her eyes refocus, she realizes the folly of her error. “You better get used to this.” I won’t. I can’t.

It’s just barely dawn. The sun rises against the brisk fall weather in hues of orange and yellow. Clouds streak the sky, and it reminds her of fire and smoke.

They used to lie out in the grass naming the shapes of clouds. Lana had always found it juvenile, but Wendy loved it. She would lie with her legs crossed, squeezing her hand and pointing whenever she saw something in one of them. Lana remembered spending more time looking at Wendy than the sky. There, hidden by the shrubbery on the perimeter of their property, they were secluded from the rest of the world. She could kiss Wendy in the grass, trace her cheek, and rest her head atop her chest.

Lana doesn’t know she’s outside until the last of the memory fades behind her eyes. She sits down, fingers tracing the dead grass. The dry earth tickles the back of her neck and head when she lies down. She watched the clouds and tries to name a few, ignoring the tears streaking freely down her cheeks in rivulettes.

She hears Wendy’s voice in the wind, feels her presence in the grass next to her, and she aches.

#nat writes #ahhhh this is long #AHS #american horror story #ahs asylum #Wendy peyser #Lana winters #American horror story asylum #oh boy so Angsty get ready #bloody face #oliver thredson

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imaginepirates · 4 years

Text

Twenty-First Century

A fic for @tiny--spock about James getting stuck in modern times. I decided to include a little personal stuff, like the setting of the story. I lived next to Seattle for a while (I don’t anymore), but I loved it. Forgive me this indulgence.

@emdrabbles @tesserphantom @paljonkaikenlaista @viper-official @wordsinwinters

~3150 words

~~~~~~~

The rain flowed over your umbrella in rivulettes, dropping off the edges to plunk onto the ground. It was a peaceful rain, but cold, so there were few people outside. You made your way to the bus stop, returning from the library. The forecast predicted rain for the next few days. You figured it was as good a time as any to pick up the books you’d been meaning to read.

You picked out a lone figure at the end of the street. You might not have given him a second glance, but he had no umbrella. It rained often where you lived; everyone knew to keep an umbrella on them. You watched him turn around a couple of times, looking hopelessly lost. You’d have to pass him, and figured you might as well take him to the covered area of the bus stop. He was probably soaked already, and your effort would make no difference, but you figured it was the thought that counted.

As you drew closer, you noticed his strange clothing. From a distance, his long coat hadn’t been out of the ordinary, but up close, you could see the brass buttons and golden epaulettes. His pants, too, looked more like breeches out of a Jane Austen novel than anything someone would normally wear.

He paid you no mind, hardly noticing your approach. It was only when you were directly next to him that he seemed to see you.

“Would you like to share my umbrella?” You asked. “There’s a covered space not far from here, if you’d like me to…” Your words died in your throat as the man turned to you.

“I’d appreciate it.” He gave you a tight smile that you were only used to seeing from the screen of a TV. “Thank you.”

You wondered for a moment if you’d slipped and hit your head, and if you were trapped in some sort of hallucination. It would explain a lot. Otherwise, you had a fictional character standing right next to you. You almost pinched yourself, but thought it might be rude, so you decided against it. You reminded yourself at the last minute not to stare.

In a daze, you held up your umbrella, sharing it with him. Then you turned and walked to the bus stop, thankful your feet had memorized the way. This is fine, you thought. I’m just going crazy, is all.

You weren’t sure if you should be thankful for the emptiness of the bus stop or not. With nobody there, you had to try talking to your companion.

Thankfully, he started the conversation for you. “I’m afraid I’m a bit lost.” The look of embarrassed confusion on his face made him look, to you, a little like a lost puppy.

“I’d say that’s probably true, Mr…” You let him fill in the blank. It would probably be creepy if you told him you already knew who he was.

“Norrington.”

“Where are you looking to go?”

Norrington looked around, staring at the streets and buildings. “I’m not quite sure, if truth be told. Ah, perhaps it might help me to know where exactly I am?”

The look of mortification on his face was complemented by the awkwardness on yours. “You’re in Seattle, Washington.”

“Right,” he said, though he clearly had no concept of where either Seattle, nor Washington, was.

Oh god, you thought. America wasn’t even around in his time-period. We were still a colony. “And,” you continued, “if it would interest you, we’re in the twenty-first century.”

You were sure you’d never seen a person so pale before. He looked, for a frightening moment, like he was going to be sick.

The bus pulled into view, catching the attention of both of you. James looked confused, and might have asked you what a bus was if you hadn’t spoken first.

“If anyone asks, we were at a convention,” you said. This earned you another look, but you pulled Norrington onto the bus before he could ask.

The bus had blissfully few people in it, and nobody gave you or Norrington a second glance. This was Seattle, after all. It was best not to wonder, sometimes. With nobody talking to you, you and James sat next to each other in awkward silence, dripping little puddles of water onto the floor.

You led him off at your stop, hurrying him to your apartment before your neighbors could see you with a strange man. It was difficult to keep the umbrella in the right place; James was considerably taller than you were, and it proved hard not to hit the top of his head. You struggled with your ring of keys for a moment, desperately trying to find the one to your apartment as quickly as possible. Once inside, you ushered him in and shut the door firmly behind you.

You stared at him blankly before remembering any sort of hospitality. The rules had changed since his age, and you hoped taking his coat and hanging it in a closet would be close enough to what he was used to.

This still meant that you had a dripping wet man in your house who probably wouldn’t dry out very soon. Wordlessly, you led him to the bathroom, handing him a towel. He understood well enough, so you stepped out to give him some privacy. Then, you realized that you had no clothes for him to change into. Damn.

By a miracle of god, or whatever divine power was out there (most people in Seattle considered Bigfoot the local deity), you found a sweatshirt and pants your dad had left at your apartment ages ago. You’d stuffed them in the back of your closet, a gift to the void, and had thoroughly forgotten about them.

You knocked on the door to the bathroom, told James you were setting some clothes outside, and you made your way to the kitchen, where you decided to wait. Then, you pinched yourself for real. This is a character from a movie. I’ve read fanfiction about him! It was an awful realization. You’d read lots of things about him, and held discourse over his character. You’d fantasized about him, even. I. Am. Insane. It’s official.

You were torn from your thoughts by James entering the room. The pants were a little short, but the sweatshirt seemed to fit, which you were thankful for. He looked awkward, standing in the doorway, and you motioned for him to sit.

“Hungry?” You asked. Even if he wasn’t, food was a great way to hide awkwardness, so you would make some anyway. You ended up making bagels, and James nearly fell out of his chair when the toaster went off. You had to smile at that; it was too cute not to.

You both hid behind your food, and you observed the surprised look of someone who had just discovered refrigerated cream cheese. When you were done eating, you set the dishes in the sink. You and James made awkward eye contact, and you couldn’t help but ask what was on your mind.

“How did you end up here?” You asked. In the movies, he had died, of course, so how he ended up by your bus stop baffled you.

“I don’t particularly know, actually. There was a hurricane, and I was knocked unconscious, and the next thing I knew, I was standing in the rain.”

“Right.” That solves that, then. The hurricane James had chased Jack through somehow transported him here, to you. “We’ll find a way to get you back home.” You had no idea how, though. The chances of your being able to return him to his own universe were next to zero. You just didn’t have the heart to tell him.

“While you’re stuck here, though, we have to set some rules,” you continued. “I have a job. I’ll be gone for most of the day. If you leave the apartment, people are going to notice that you’re… a little odd. You’re going to have to stay inside.” You showed him the pantry, and all the things he could make for himself for food. “I’ll teach you to use the stove later,” you promised.

You showed him around, teaching him how to work things. He was fascinated by the most basic appliances; he switched the lights on and off a few times before believing they were real.

“You’ve come a long way.” He looked around in awe. The shower, the stove, and electricity were all new to him. “I wish we had some of this where I came from.”

You wished he had more clothes. You vowed to find some the next day.

There was the dilemma of sleeping arrangements. You lived by yourself, and thus owned one bed. You had a couch, but you figured it would be rude to offer it to him. You found yourself throwing out the awkward suggestion of sleeping together. Norrington looked appalled.

“I can build a wall of pillows between us,” you suggested half-heartedly. “Though I’m afraid the bed might be too small for that.”

Though James insisted that he sleep on the floor, you finally managed to convince him otherwise. You found your back pressed against his, hardly daring to breathe. You both lay perfectly still, trying not to disturb the other. You could feel the heat of his back through the T-shirt you were wearing to bed. No doubt he could feel you just as acutely.

When you woke, you were stiff as a board. You hadn’t changed positions all night. Neither, as it seemed, had James. He was just as stiff, and looked just as tired, too.

“Good morning,” you said, rolling over.

“Morning.” He had rolled onto his side, too, so you were facing each other. He blushed a little, being so close to you, and you found yourself doing the same.

You introduced him to cereal not long after, and left him with a few books to choose from to keep himself occupied while you were away. You had to work, and you figured books would keep him entertained.

The day was made longer with the knowledge that James was waiting for you at home. You worried about him; everything was new to him, and you hoped curiosity wouldn’t get the better of him. You doubted it would, knowing how he was, but you couldn’t help the feeling that someone would see him, even if just through the window.

Stopping by a store, you picked up some clothes on your way home. James needed more to wear than the single outfit your dad had left behind. You managed to get some variance, trying to appeal to a style that James might like, though you had no idea what he’d think of modern clothes.

You came home to your neighbor, and elderly lady, watering the small potted plants at your doorstep. She smiled and straightened up as you walked by. “That’s a nice young man you have in there! I think you’d better keep him,” she said cheekily.

You couldn’t help your blush, and you fumbled for words, nearly dropping the stack of clothes you carried. “You met him?”

“Oh, he came out to help me water the hanging baskets. You know I can’t reach them well anymore.” She waved a hand dismissively. “That boy saw me through the window and came out to help me.”

“How nice of him.” You were internally mortified, but you tried keeping that to yourself. You only hoped the woman hadn’t told any of your other neighbors about James.

You pushed the door to your apartment open with a hip. James awaited you inside, sitting on the couch with a book in hand, a glass of water on the little table next to him. He looked up, smiling softly. “Literature has changed.”

He was reading Dickens. It’s changed a lot more than that. “And are you enjoying it?”

“Immensely. I love Shakespeare, but I can only read a play so many times.” He set the book down, stood, and offered to take the clothes from you. “Although, I’m afraid I don’t know the background to these books. I take it that the people of France were unhappy with the government?”

“Are you reading A Tale of Two Cities?”

“I am.”

“You are correct. France spent too much money supporting other countries; it finally couldn’t support itself.”

“Ah.”

He set the clothes on the table. They were in bags, and you told him to peek through them to see what he liked. He thanked you as you prepared to make dinner. “I hear you met my neighbor today,” you said.

“I did. A nice woman, though she asked a few questions I didn’t understand.”

Of course. “And they were?”

“She asked if we were ‘dating’, though I was unfamiliar with the term.”

“What did you tell her?”

“I said I was unsure.”

You tried to stifle a laugh and failed. Glancing over your shoulder, you found James looking uneasy. “You might have given her the wrong idea of our relationship. Don’t be surprised if she tries convincing you to ask me out.”

He blushed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know….”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“What is dating, exactly? And she said something about a needle from space.”

You saw that your evening would be full of explaining. “Dating is quite a lot like courting, where you come from, but it’s less formal. Typically, a person dates multiple people before finding the person they’re going to marry.” James understood that, at least. “The Space Needle is a building downtown. It’s a quirky part of Seattle, and a good place for going on dates. Probably why she mentioned it.”

James continued to look flustered as you cooked. You finished and set the table, eating in awkward silence. James seemed to enjoy his meal, which resolved some of your anxiety.

“I can show you around tomorrow after work,” you offered. “Seattle is lovely. There’s a lot here, but I can give you the general tour.”

“I think I’d enjoy that, thank you.”

When you arrived home the next day after a long day of work, you found James trying to communicate with your Alexa. He was failing horribly, and you couldn’t help but laugh. He tapped it to see if it would turn on.

“Having trouble?” You asked.

“It started talking earlier. I was a bit afraid to touch the buttons, in case they did something odd,” he admitted.

“Don’t worry. Alexa,” you called out, “play Vivaldi.”

James took in a startled breath as the music started. He stared down at the device in fascination, and you explained how it worked.

“Brilliant,” he said.

You took him out to the car. As awful as it was to drive in Seattle, you didn’t live far from the downtown area, so it would be easy enough to get around. You climbed into the car, motioning for James to do the same. He braced himself against the dashboard when you started pulling out of your parking spot.

“Think of it as a carriage with no horses.”

He nodded, looking around at the car’s interior. He changed his focus to the surrounding area. Skyscrapers surrounded you as you drove into the city, some made almost entirely from glass. Advertisements were plastered across the fronts of buildings, and trees dotted the sidewalks next to you. Eventually, you came into view of the Space Needle, towering six hundred feet above you. James stared out the window like a child, enraptured. You thought it was adorable.

You parked and walked around the space beneath the structure. The Space Needle looked a little like the Eiffel Tower, with three legs holding up a disc that sat at the top. A central scaffolding acted as an elevator shaft. The top held an observation deck from which a person could see the entire city. You thought of taking James up, but decided against it. No doubt it would scare him; it had scared you the first time you’d gone up.

Instead, you took him down to the waterfront, a bustling area with lots to see. A giant ferris wheel was decked out in neon lights of all different colors. James gaped at the massive cargo ships passing by. A hundred shops dotted the piers, and the two of you windowshopped as you walked.

You eventually grabbed a bite to eat in the public market. It was always full of people, and food of every sort could be found within its multiple levels. You settled on crepes, which James was vaguely familiar with. After dinner, you pulled out a package of gum, handing a piece to James.

“Chew it,” you told him.

Tentatively, he popped it in his mouth, chewing for a moment. “What exactly is the purpose of this?”

“Enjoyment. But there’s a reason I gave it to you. You’ll see.” You led him out of the market and up into the street. A few blocks later, you found yourself at your destination. The alley was narrow, and there was seemingly nothing special about. At first glance, it looked like any other; brick walls, cobbles, and papers advertising a thousand different events plastered across the walls.

As you walked to the end of the alley, the popularity of the spot became evident. The walls were covered in hundreds of thousands of pieces of gum. They were delightfully colorful, and gum stuck to every centimeter of space. Happily, you walked up to the wall, took your gum out of your mouth, and stuck it to a brick.

James looked both disgusted and intrigued, and you couldn’t blame him. “It’s tradition, really,” you told him. “People have been putting gum here for years. Gross, yes, but also pretty cool.”

James carefully stuck his piece to the wall, making sure not to touch anything else. “It’s very interesting to see the sorts of traditions you come up with. The future is an curious place.”

“We say the same about the past.”

He smiled. Looking at the wall again, he said, “People chew this just for the flavor?”

“Yes, though it has other uses. It makes you concentrate harder. And some people chew it before a kiss, though the actual impact it has is debatable.”

James flushed, and you did the same. The thought of kissing him was certainly attractive. It had been, for years.

“Well,” he said bashfully, “there’s only one way to find out.”

He took a step towards you, leaving little space between you. Then, slowly, he placed a careful kiss to your lips.

“I hope I haven’t overstepped myself,” he breathed, stepping back.

“No, you haven’t.” With that, you pulled him closer again, kissing him with a little more fervor.

Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad, having him around. He was a quick learner, after all. And a good kisser.

And for those of you wanting to see what the gum wall looks like:

#potc #pirates #pirate #pirates of the caribbean #norrington #James Norrington #commodore norrington #norrington x reader #writings #writing #drabble #request #requests #drabbles

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thespiantherepist · 4 years

Text

Android Shinsou x female reader Smut!

Notes: Hitting you with that dirty game first babes! Ill try my best to make a Gender neutral reader for it I swear.

Warnings: Smut, pet names, yandere-ish themes, slight aphrodisiac.

Your experiment, one you had been working on since your first year of college. Your pride, and joy. The one thing you cared about as much as your animals.

The very thing you devoted your soul to.

Your android.

Yeah you'd made one, or two, or uhh... Seventeen award winning ones, and twenty nominated ones. This one was different though.

You never really were able to get a partner. (You never looked.) You didnt know why.

(You Never Looked.)

So... you made a robot that would love you just as much as you loved it. Because appearently you didnt appeal to anyones tastes anyway.

(For the love of god, the huminoid sonic had been trying at you since pre-k!)

It was the moment of truth.

You tested his chips, his circuts, the endoskeleton. You ran his programming through a computer for days to make sure it was correct.

You beamed with delight. Your smile illuminating your flat.

"This is it!" You said, flipping your head over to stare at your Bulldog, Steve on the couch. "Soon you'll have a buddy to play with all day!" The American wagged his tail in a chill manner before lying his head back down.

"3...," You whispered to yourself. Flipping the switch on the back of his neck to boot him up.

"2...," You said louder this time, leaning into your computer, and running a safe check on his files.

"....1." You said in an awestruck tone as the pop up button showed on your screen. You clicked it.

Hurriedly you skipped over to your creation, giddily jumping up, and down.

Soft whooses, and buzzes thrumed in his ribcage. His skeleton moved into place visibly. His artifical skin heated, warming your freezing hand.

'Yes..'

The yellow light turned on.

"Yes."

It slowly changed to Green, then started blinking rapidly, starting his actual systems. Air seemed to spin in the room to fit your excitement. Beeps from deep within him cued your reactions. Your eyes glittered with glee, and tears pricked your eyes. His body moved slowly a bit.

"YES!" You happily grabbed his hands shaking them a bit.

"Open your eyes sleepy head!"

A breath came from him.

You drew yours in.

He didnt respond.

"Come on hun, lets get at it!"

... This is worrying.

"Shinsou, on." You said, trying to verbally aid his process.

And for a second.

It seemed to work.

For one second.

It never actually did.

Your heart shattered, tears immediently trekked down your face. Hitched breaths wrecked your body, as you dried to calm down. Trying to swallow the coil in your throat.

You sat inside your house for a few days.

Religiously trying your process.

And each failed attempt ended in more tears.

Each ended in another heartbreak.

It sent you spiraling.

And each day you spiraled further. Further into a pit of resentment to the peice of junk that ruined countless oppourtunities for relationships.

For jobs.

For sleep,

health,

money,

family.

You resented the scent of lavender, and blackberry that came off of him each night. The scent that would drive you wild.

Cause you to touch yourself each night.

Each night.

On the couch facing him.

After you finished you always felt violated.

You couldnt stay at your flat any longer.

You spent two weeks at Tenya Iidas. It was the best two weeks of your life. You actually felt terrible leaving.

The second you entered your house you noticed something was up.

There was a linear pattern of lavender lights leading into the hallway.

The smell of Lavender, and Blackberries were gone.

There was a silhouette sitting at the bottom of your stairs.

The shape sent an immediate rush of fear into your heart, and you whimpered stepping back towards the door. The figures eyes opened slowly revealing beautiful, glowing, purple orbs.

Strangely enough this sent even more fear through your body. You had programmed your android to protect you after all.

"What. The. Fuck. Type of stunt do you think you just pulled Kitten?" His voice was laced with venom, a warning had you ever heard one.

"I- I wha?"

"Dont act fucking stupid with me!" He shouted, springing up from his spot at the base of the stairs in incredible speed.

"You smell just like him."

You paniked, pressing your back against the door as he advanced to you. The scent coming back stronger than ever this time. Your knees buckled, and you fell to the floor, hand grasping then knob.

"Oh, Kitten, I didnt mean to scare you." He said in a mocking tone. "Come here~" Your body moved on its own. Pressing flush against him. Arms encasing his neck, nose nuzziling into him.

"Thats really sweet of you, ya know?" He asked in a vauge manner. He pushed you away slightly so he could get a better loom at you. "You didnt become a slutty little bitch when you went to that cucks house. My Kitten stayed heated only for her Master~"

Your eyes widened in fear, then in realisation. You huffed slightly. Pressing your now, warm, nose against his neck.

'Of course, you programmed him with those sensors idiot.' You mentally kicked yourself.

"Were you on the entire time?" You asked pulling away from him glaring slightly at your masterpiece. Watching as his pupils geared to aim towards a spot in the corner of his eyes. His lips stuck out in a playful pout before he smirked.

"May-be." He said misheviously. You gasped, and punched his chest lightly, to which he chuckled.

"You asshole, why?"

'Ah, so loud!'

"I thought you looked cute mad~" It was your turn to pout a bit. 'This sadist.'

"So kitten," Shinsou said leaning in, "Tell me," Your mind went blank from the scent that he emmitted, "Do you wanna play a bit?"

You nodded quickly, staring at the man above you.

His eyes flickered for a second.

Lavender to Ruby.

A glitch?

You didnt think it was too problematic, a minor color glitch. Nothing too serious.

Im so sorry my friend.

He smirked, picking you up by the hips, wrapping your legs around his waist.

He kissed you deeply, his warm lips unexpected especially for him. He immediately pressed his tounge past your lips. Turning your head so you could get better leverage. You squeaked in suprise, and slight discomfort. Bringing a hand to his shoulder, and the back of his head for stability.

He presesed you against the wall behing you, one hand at the small of your back, pressing you up to him. The other left your hip, trailing up to your breasts, then slipping his hand into your pants.

You gasped in surprise, trying to break from the kiss, instead he deepened it. You moaned slightly into his mouth, causing him to groan deeply. He wrapped his tounge over yours, nearly chocking you in passion.

Your eyes were practically screwed shut from intensity. The two tendrils slid over each other, collecting the essence upon each other.

Shinsou slid his finger into your sopping cunt. Pushing upwards in a quick pace.

You openly gasped at the intense sensation. Youd never inserted anything inside before.

You threw your head back, neck bare to the machine in front of you. He added another finger, heading right for your neck afterwards. He nipped and bit as he pumped his fingers at a rhythimic pace. He felt your hands curl at his head, and he looked back up at your soft, lewd expression.

Drool fell in thin rivuletts down your chin. Your eyes tolled the back of your head. Heated cheeks adding to your beautiful expression.

It seemed as if the world stopped for a second, Shinsou felt real. He hadn't realised his fingers sped up until he heard your delectable moans gettting louder.

"Ngh- Ahah! Shi- shinsou, so clooose ahahh!"

You whined in pleasure squirming on his fingers. He wasnt going to let this opportunity go to waste.

He heaved lowered your bodies quickly so he was face level with your cunt, then without taking his fingers out he started to devour your pussy. He sucked against your clit, then dipped his long tounge deep inside you.

You flinched at the warm sensation entering your hole. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head, in pure bliss.

Your moans shook the windows behind you. And Shinsou?

Shinsou was dining like a king. Your essense dribbled down his chin, making his sensotove nerves go haywire. He twisted, and turned his tounge around inside you, pulling it out occasionally to press a kiss to your clit. Everytime he did that he sped up.

You felt it wriggling inside you, pressing at your walls demanding you to come.

His artifical scent grew stronger as you came closer to your finish. You wailed, pulling at Shinsou soft locks.

"Are you gonna cum kitten?" He said, voice muffled by your pussy. He nuzzled your clit with the top of his nose, forcing a drawn out moan from you. "Kitty cat, Imma count to three for you okay?" His voice again sent vibrations to your hole.

You ground your hips into his mouth, causing his movements to stutter a bit, before he gained a new pace.

"Three, two... mmph, now kitten!"

The coil inside you snapped hard. Your jucies sprayed all over his face, and partiality on his chest.

He stared at you in awe, seeing your pussy absoulutely soaked. Some dribbled on his hands. His eyes resumed their glowing state as he flipped you over.

He leaned over you on the floor, bending down to whisper in your ear.

"Im going to fuck you so hard kitty, Im going to fuck you until I am the only man you'll ever wanna see."

You moaned in anticipation.

"Wait, please be gentle, its my first time."

He just smirked softly, placing a soft kiss to your neck. He slowly slid his member in, the muscle massaging your slick walls. Hitting every pleasurable nerve on its journey. Your brain blanked.

He didnt bother going slow after that immediently blasting into your hole. Large hands grasping tightly onto your hips. Thrusts shaking your entire body.

It carried on this way for what seemed like ages. Him thrusting into you at unimaginable speeds that sent your body into a tizzy.

When you finally came you fell from heaven, and landed into the fiery pleasure of hell. Warmth left, and entered you at the same time. A moan leaving your twitching mouth, drool escaping in tandum.

Shinsou pulled out. Marveling the sight, and oicking your limp body off the floor. He pressed a tender kiss to your forehead.

"Dont worry bout a thing kitten," He said when you felt yourself asending the stairs, and you looked up slighlty. "Ive got you."

ge entered your room, and layed you down slowly.

"I love you Shinsou."

"Love you to kitten, now let me go get my charger, and Ill be right back."

#Yander shinsou #Android shinsou #Shinsou is a kinky bastard #hes also sneaky #reader is precious #Android Shinsou x reader #You really do be simping over androids though #I should be asleep #rough smut #18+#jealousy #Dont put your dick in a robot.#Iida and Shinsou are rivals #You and Shinsou were roomates.#As per my girlfriends request.

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ryusxnka · 4 years

Text

@zhizhehou said: “ Don’t know what to expect. ” // Thank you!!

A commonality everyone faces ‘pon entering something unknown is the uncertainty of who or what may consequently arise - of what one’s feet may potentially be conveying their universality. Life or death hanging aloft by a thread in the form of a guillotine; It drapes, gradually so, to the extent it is wholly unnoticeable, swings, and it anticipates the instant it is liberated ‘pon the unexpectant. - This woman’s words ring vehemently through his ears in the semblance of a bell tolling to promptly stir and awake. They evoke recollections much like the tales he’s burrowed into his frostbitten heart involving Kusaka and his enlistment to the Tenth division. When befriending the older man who had never exhibited an iota of fear, never once rejected him for his dissimilarities in appearances, he had never thought he’d be weeping atop his red- rivulette smearing corpse, killed, mere months following the stated connective joviality.

When becoming a Third seat ‘neath the guidance of a renown member of an aristocratic family, of eminent captaincy, he had not remotely foreseen their abrupt death, though now he is aware of Isshin’s truth, of him coaxing them into believing he had died in the midst of action, and the subsequent events of him, a boy no older than ten, taking ‘pon the vast mantle bearing the weight of an entire militaristic squadron. He’s had his pained servings of unexpected surprises, unfavorably so. - She had no idea of what to expect. feelings authorized by solicitude and curiosity. - Parched lips purse, compressing onto a firm line ‘fore partitioning. staying mute about the statement will not be beneficial to anyone. He required her to advance and thus he endeavoured to hearten her evident concerns. “ Expect nothing. --- Focus only on sharpening your resolve onto forwarding ahead ... “ as he had been compelled to habituate himself;

One must always move forward ... No matter what may be clandestine at the end.

#;Meme #This is super late #and eh #But here you Jeans #v.v/

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tryitoncesb-blog · 5 years

Text

The Art of Theatre

Welcome back!

So where do we go from Horseback riding and the 'list'? Well to Live Theatre of course! An art that I feel is so sincerely under appreciated nowadays.

Now, my exposure to live theatre up until the last ten years was fairly basic. I used to go and see the nutcracker ballet every year in school (Still my absolute favorite ballet performance <3 Some day I'll be part of one!) and as a younger individual I was always much too shy and anxious to participate in theatre or even drama class for that matter. Unless you count the terrible murder-mystery we recorded on casette for a class project in public school. I totally voice acted the crap out of character 'cobra bubbles'.

The turning point in my now love of theatre came when me and my girlfriend (Now my wife.) moved out to Victoria, B.C. to stay with her family there and try and build a life on the west coast of Canadia. Her family out there is what can only be described as a 'theatre family'. They live and breathe the stage and I can't remember much of a time when we were there that they weren't doing something theatre related. Heck, even their birthday wishes were done in video form with perfromances to Shania twain included.

One thing you should know is that if you stay with a theatre family, even if you don't like theatre. You're going to get pulled into it whether you like it or not. I encourage you to accept and enjoy the experience because for me, it gave me something truly special. A look into a hobby and a lifestyle I'd never fully appreciated.

The performance that this family was a part of was a pantomime (A word I never knew the meaning of until this point.) of 'The Wind in the Willows'. I'd heard the name before, but I didn't know the story, nor what it was even about. They were fairly deep into rehearsals already and were having a hard time finding someone to run the music/sound for the show. Queue their rather technologically oriented house guest. Myself. They asked and for the first time, I opted to leave the safety of my little mental box and give it a shot. They'd after all, been amazing to us in letting us live with them and not charging us so much as a dime. (For which I can never repay them enough.)

I wasn't sure what to think. I'd never actually run sound for a live show before and was admittedly a bit nervous. But if there's one thing a crew of theatre people can do, it's banish your anxieties! Within the first few hours of their tech rehearsal, I felt like part of their little family and proceeded to run sound for all of their performances in several different theatres. Right up until the end.

This is still to date, one of the best experiences I have ever had. Theatre has a way of lighting up peoples faces. There's a certain charm and enjoyment that no big screen movie can match and I got to see all of it, from in the crowd to behind the scenes and it's amazing the work and dedication that people put into it.

It was from that point that I gained a genuine appreciation for the performing arts and it's the reason that recently my wife and myself have been to two separate productions in our hometown in the last year so far. (Not too many, but they were amazing!)

We saw a production called 'Glory' which was actually a bit of a history piece following the rise of the Preston Rivulettes and their amazing journey during the time leading up to WWII.

Most people who know me, know I am not really much of a history guy. But this play had so much charm, and was so well done that when I got home that night I spent several hours poring over the teams history and their story. That to me is the power of good theatre. The ability to give you a different perspective, to change your thoughts on something and ignite something unique in your mind.

The other production we saw was 'Grease'. I'm a fan of grease. I've seen the original, and several different live versions on TV. But NOTHING compares to the rendition that this particular theatre put on, not even the original. Seeing and hearing those iconic songs and scenes going on, on a stage thirty feet from your seat, seeing their real expressions, the amazing choreography. It's something special indeed.

I'm meandering a little bit here. I think the point I'm trying to make, the piece of my wonderful experiences here is that the performing arts are a truly under appreciated piece of our culture. If you have never been to a theatre, go. You won't regret it. Catch a local show. Get away from the 'big screen' theatres that have taken over traditional theatre. Go out and appreciate the talented teams of indiviudals who put blood, sweat and tears into truly unique and wonderful performances.

Dare to try,

Sam

#life #lifestyle #experiences #lifeexperiences #theatre #prestonrivulettes #blog #lifestyleblog

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