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justporo · 4 months

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Shooting Stars

A night of star showers is imminent in Baldur's Gate. You couldn't think of a better way to spend it but with Astarion and a sparkling glass of champagne in your hand - and lots of teasing banter- until the first star comes shooting. Because of course: there are wishes to be made and hopefully to be fulfilled.

MASTERLIST | AO3

Author's Note: Time to cook of the 2024 season! I originally wanted to use this for the Winter Challenge as well but eh, I rather wanted to take my time (and I'm happy about it - I'm only getting back in the saddle with writing now, break was very much needed). So have this piece of fluff, that is hopefully something for the soul to kick of this year of writing! This wonderful artwork was done by the lovely @britonell (thank you so much!).

Pairing: Astarion/Fem!Tav (You)

Warnings: none, just tooth-rotting fluff

Wordcount: 2,9k

Song: All This And Heaven Too - Florence + The Machine

~~~

“Shit, I think I ripped one of my stockings”, you cursed while you rearranged your seat at the edge of the roof. Astarion relaxedly sitting beside you clicked his tongue and looked judgingly at you - but you knew he was only teasing. The sparkle in his ruby eyes spoke of nothing but affection and admiration as he looked at you and then towards the glittering night sky.

Tonight a shower of shooting stars was supposed to happen. The whole city had been raving about it for days since astronomers had shared the news of the upcoming celestial event. Probably every one who could afford so would be out and about to catch a glimpse of some of nature's magic. And of course - as was custom - to make some wishes and hope for the falling stars to kindly fulfil them.

Some of the stars on the firmament were twinkling already, as if they were shimmying, getting ready to fall out of their sockets and travel across the night sky. To grace all beings below them with their fleeting beauty.

Never had you seen something like this and you had been brimming with excitement from the first moment you had heard about it. You wouldn't want to miss it for the world.

When you had asked Astarion if he wanted to watch the star showers with you he had lifted one eyebrow and given you a kind of condescending if playful smile. Then, when he had answered his voice had dripped with sarcasm: “Oh darling, why would we need to watch some beautiful fallen stars when I already have one right in front of me.”

You had almost barfed onto his feet. Astarion had looked offended.

Then you had lost it so hard laughing that your vampire had needed to hold you up by your elbows so as to not let you slide onto the ground while you suffered from your hysteric fit.

“Astarion, love, you already have me - you can scrap the cheesy lines - please?”, you had pressed out through laughter and buried your face in his chest while Astarion had pouted a bit more about your snide remarks regarding his flirting techniques.

Of course, he hadn’t stopped. In fact, he’d made it a game over the next couple of days to come up with even much worse lines while you always desperately tried to keep it together.

“But darling, all my wishes have come true already with you by my side.”

“Love, I believe the night's cancelled. All stars are already in your eyes.”

“Oh, my heart, I’ve already fallen hard for you, why would you need another star?”

They got progressively worse the longer he kept going - and incredibly less inventive.

But of course you were still swooning on the inside, at least a little. Because after all, how couldn't you? Knowing that Astarion was indeed in love with you and that he really meant his words. Well, once you scraped all the gooey honey off it. What lay beneath was very sweet and much less sickening.

This game of his had gone on for several days until the night had finally arrived - and until even Astarion had almost run out of stupid pick-up lines.

The both of you had decided to dress up, just for the hell of it. This being one of the things you had adopted quickly from Astarion: indulging yourself, taking care of yourself and dressing for yourself - and for him of course, because you could never get enough of the stunned looks he threw you.

You were in a dress that Astarion had gifted you some time back and that was embroidered by the man himself. And the vampire in a finely stitched doublet that made him look positively regal and smoking. There was a fair amount of staring happening from both sides, hopefully not distracting from the actual event later on.

Then with lots of giggles from your side and terrible cursing from Astarion you had climbed onto the roof of your little Baldurian townhouse. This man could never do anything without commenting on it. When you had pointed out as much, he had narrowed his eyes at you and looked tempted to drag you down the small ladder again that led up to the roof. But you had swiftly moved out of his reach with a cackle - not without also making sure to give him a good view of your behind first by deliberately swishing open the slit in your skirt.

Carefully, you had scattered towards the edge over the old shingles then, until you could carefully settle down.

Obviously not carefully enough though since you feared that the delicate sheer fabric covering your slender legs might have been torn on a sharp edge when you had sat down. But it didn’t really matter. Astarion had already promised he’d rip these stockings off you (together with the set of naughty underwear you’d chosen specifically for him) with his teeth later in the night. Really, you were just presenting an opening for your eager lover.

With another curse under his breath, the vampire sat down beside you although he did so elegantly and immediately evoked the image of a lounging cat. The grace of the rogue really was unmatched.

You leaned back on your hands and angled one leg, putting it up on the edge while the other dangled over thin air. Astarion almost mirrored you with the way he seemed to sit comfortably there, leaning back, legs slightly spread and hanging over the edge while he observed the glittering night sky.

“Love, that’s no way to sit for a lady”, Astarion teased you with a promising grin while he eyed your angled leg, clad in nothing but a gauzy stocking, adorned with a delicate lace rim at the very top of your thigh - which was almost completely on display for him.

You angled your head at him and swayed your leg a little so the slit allowed for an even better view of your leg - careful to only tease for later.

“Good thing I am not a lady then”, you replied to your vampire, tongue in cheek.

“Oh yes, my love, it’s for the best. The way I’d single handedly ruin your reputation later tonight would be scandalous,” Astarion replied while he devoured you with his eyes from under his brows. In his head you could bet he was already letting his teeth graze over the delicate skin of your inner thigh. Oh, it would be a night to behold.

You laughed softly, throwing your head back. But then you let your leg softly fall onto the other, giving at least the illusion of decency again.

You grinned at the vampire, the vampire grinned back with promise.

Nothing would ever come close to this, to being with him: the playful banter, the easy companionship, the intense intimacy. You hummed contentedly while you slowly ripped your loving gaze of Astarion and let it wander over your surroundings.

Below you the streets of the Upper City seemed to fill up with the whole population of Baldur’s Gate. Of course everyone wanted the best sight of the night sky - and Upper just had the best spots. And what a good thing that you still had the vantage point even with all those people trying to find a neat stargazing spot.

Idle chatter drifted up towards you. People had brought food and drinks and a continuous hum of anticipation filled the cold night air, but you barely even noticed. For you there was merely your soulmate and you up on the roof of your home.

Behind you you had two crystal glasses waiting to be filled with some bubbling champagne Astarion had insisted upon. “If you’re going to make me sit up on some godsforsaken rooftop during wintertime only to crane your neck at the night sky you can look up at every night, I might as well bring a drink”, he’d said and rolled his eyes while he had grabbed not one, but two of the expensive bottles. You had simply shrugged - you wouldn’t say no if drinks were involved. And since you had figured out that it had been nearly half a year already since most everything had been dealt with, you felt it was only appropriate to celebrate this fact with a drink.

The vampire had whole-heartedly agreed when you had told him your observation. Astarion, of course, had been very well aware of that even before. He hadn’t stopped counting the days since his life had taken a turn for the better and, perhaps, he never would.

Up on the roof the rogue now procured his dagger, threw it up to flip it artfully and only then - when he was sure that he had your full attention - he took the first bottle with a sly grin. And then, in his histrionic manner, he swished the sharp blade up along the curve of the bottle neck and cleanly took off the head along with the cork.

Champagne immediately started foaming out of the bottle and Astarion was quick to grab the crystal glasses, both in one hand, and elegantly pour you each a glass of sparkling wine.

Somewhere below you heard someone yelp - apparently Astarion had unconsciously managed to hit someone with his display of skill. You looked down and saw an older gentleman rub the back of his head and turn towards you.

Quickly grabbing Astarion’s arm to make him pull back with you, you dragged up your legs with a giggle, hoping you could hide from the unwilling target. The vampire grinned broadly at you while he kept pouring - that little rascal.

You had to be honest though that you’d been quite impressed with the display of this dextrous if wholly unnecessary talent. It was after all very fitting for the flamboyant elf. But your adoration must have shown because the vampire was grinning proudly at you as he handed you a glass.

Time to get his ego in check again before it became too massive.

“Where’d you learn that?”, you asked after you had clinked glasses with him. “Rich prick academy?”

Astarion almost snorted into the glass he’d been taking a sip from. He recovered quickly though. “Not my fault they taught you neither that nor manners, you insolent little thing.” He clicked his tongue and took another sip of bubbly.

You waited until he had lifted up the drink filled flute to slap his arm.

His drink sloshed, some spilling onto him.

The look of that combined with too much force you had used to get back at him almost made you lose your balance. You screeched, gripping your glass as if it could stop you from falling.

But thankfully Astarion quickly grabbed your wrist with roguish reflexes, pulling you back and thus prohibiting you from falling off.

Your heart was racing from the sudden rush of adrenaline. The vampire was only laughing as you recovered from your self-inflicted fright. And you hadn’t even drunk a single drop of alcohol yet. So you made to catch up and lifted the crystal to your lips.

“Darling, don’t break your back falling off this rooftop, yes?” Astarion said, choosing this exact moment to break the silence again. “I have way better options to achieve that if you should insist upon it, my heart.”

You choked on the prickling drink and started coughing. Immediately, you were almost ready to push that bastard again, risking falling off once more. Astarion in the meantime smirked smugly at you while drinking his champagne in peace now.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time”, you croaked pathetically after barely being able to talk again. Somehow you seemed to draw the short end of the stick fairly often when it came to trying to out-sass the pale elf. But he had more than 200 years on you with that - give or take. You’d get back at him one of those days.

The bickering went on for some more back and forth until you had each downed your first glass, then a second while you were both laughing profusely and you started to feel the alcohol make your mind a little hazy.

Astarion refilled the glasses once more and you just kept talking - about everything and nothing. It was always so easy to just spend time with each other. It almost felt like you had been together a whole eternity already, in the best way imaginable.

“So, what are you wishing for?”, you asked Astarion emboldened by the alcohol while you were working on emptying your next glass of champagne.

The vampire inclined his head towards you and softly shook his head in disappointment: “Love, have they truly taught you nothing? You’re not supposed to tell or it won’t come true!” He softly clicked his tongue while you stuck out yours towards him. You kept looking at him in anticipation - but he was firm on not losing a word on the matter.

After a while you gave up with a dramatic sigh and gulped down the rest of liquid in your glass. Neither pouting at him, bribing him or even offering another glance of your precariously clothed legs seemed to work.

You though knew exactly what things you’d be wishing for: for him and you to be happy - that was the most important thing, to find a way to allow Astarion to walk in the sun again, a long and happy life for all your friends you hadn’t seen in a while now, to have things stay like this forever or at least to be able to always come back to moments like these.

You really deeply hoped this would stay with you: the unconditional love, the deep trust, the easiness with which the two of you spent your days and nights now with each other.

Some time ago you had feared that once the permanent tension of your adventuring days was over there wouldn’t be much left for you. That Astarion would just realise that you were barely more than a former street kid and thief - and pretty much boring beyond that.

But it hadn’t been like that. Quite the opposite: every day seemed to make the vampire fall harder for you. And you knew that was surely true from your side. It was like every time you looked at him another small piece of your heart was permanently handed to the vampire who you trusted fully to handle it gently. And perhaps the same was true for Astarion’s undead and unbeating heart in his chest.

You kept gazing at him and enjoyed just listening to him talk beside you while you sipped on your drink. The wind was drifting through both your hair, pulling some light strands of your hair with it while it merely tugged softly on the rogue’s curls. His side profile was sharply illuminated by silver moon light, pronouncing his straight nose, sharp cheekbones. And not to forget his ruby red eyes that always caught when you were staring at him and then sparkled in delight.

You could just spend eternity with moments like these.

Astarion was currently telling you about a book of poetry he was reading at the moment, looking up at the moon and the stars with a slight smile on his lips when a murmur started to move through the crowd below you.

Both of your ears perked up a little as the people became louder. And then when someone even screeched and you saw someone pointing up at the night sky as you leaned forward you realised what it must mean: shooting stars.

Your head snapped up and you caught a movement out of the corner of your eye, just the disappearing tail of a star racing across the darkness. With a gasp you grabbed Astarion’s shoulder without looking to get his attention. The vampire immediately complained but was silenced when another falling star shot across the sky - this time clearly visible for both of you.

The people below were buzzing in excitement now, loud “oohs” and “aaahs” were heard in the chill winter night as the stars become more and more frequent until bright white curves of sparkles were drawn across the sky every few seconds.

Your eyes widened as you beheld the wondrous event in front of you, completely entranced by what was happening. Truly a magic that was unmatched in beauty, a spell woven over everyone that was lucky enough to catch sight of it even for only a moment.

The vampire observed the falling stars with you for a long while before he slowly turned to you.

Astarion looked at you, still fully smitten by stars falling from the sky, eyes wide and shining, lips parted slightly.. He drank it all in: the wonder in your eyes, your beautiful face, the love. You see the latter reflected on his face when your gaze flicked to the vampire and back up to the sky to not miss a single star.

But Astarion’s gaze kept lingering upon you. Not wanting to ever forget even the most miniscule of details of this moment while sparks of light kept dancing over your face and your ever broadening smile.

He hadn’t lied, calling you his star.

Because his biggest wish, although always unspoken, had already been fulfilled.

Tag list: @spacebarbarianweird @sunfire-ancunin @tragedybunny @dependsonthedream @tallymonster @magazzne @micropoe10 @aoirohi @my-bunny-prince @lumienyx @fayeriess @darlingxdragon @hereliesblackdragon @ayselluna

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #fanfiction #astarion x tav #bg3 spoilers #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate #astarion x mc #astarion x oc #astarion x you #astarion x reader #bg3

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cheeseanonioncrisps · 1 year

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So like, it's okay to be good and nobody is born evil and anyone can change the path they're on, yadda yadda yadda, but I actually think one of the biggest lessons Megamind learns over the course of the film is the shocking revelation that actions have consequences.

I'm not even kidding. When you put aside the whole 'evil' thing, one of Megamind's biggest flaws is his entirely screwed up notion of cause and effect.

Like, the whole reason the plot happens is because it apparently never occurred to Megamind that 'carrying out elaborate plots to kill Metroman' could ever result in 'dead Metroman'. Nor that creating a new hero with the specific motivation of defeating him, Megamind, could lead to negative consequences for him, Megamind. Or that riling said hero up into a murderous rage could have the unforeseen consequence of that hero raging around murderously.

Dude spent at least a few years kidnapping Roxanne, threatening her with alligators and lasers and various other villainous knick-knacks, only to disguise himself as somebody else and lie to her until she fell in love with this fake identity he'd created and is genuinely shocked when she is upset upon finding this out.

Not just that she did find out, but that post-her finding out he is unable to talk her into continuing the relationship.

“We don't judge a book by its cover or a person by their appearance… we judge them based on their actions.”

“Seems kinda petty, don't you think?”

Megamind may be a genius when it comes to inventions and evil plans, but he's a fucking idiot when it comes to predicting and anticipating the obvious results of his actions.

And thing is, it makes total sense why he would be like that.

He spent his childhood being consistently punished by the adults in his life, often for no reason that he could understand or even for no reason at all. As a result, he stops viewing punishment as a consequence of his behaviour and starts seeing it as a consequence of him being 'evil', which of course leads to him leaning into his evil persona and eventually becoming a supervillain.

And, as a supervillain, ironically enough, he's completely sheltered from consequence by his greatest enemy, Metroman.

Megamind doesn't need to worry about his evil plans hurting any citizens, because Metroman will use his powers to save them. Megamind doesn't have to worry about the damage he does to the city, because Metroman can fix it.

Megamind does in theory have to worry about social consequences for his behaviour, but the social consequences are being locked in prison and having everybody hate him which is like, the default status quo of his existence since he was a baby.

He literally calls the prison as 'home', a word he does not use to refer to his Evil Lair or indeed anywhere else in the film barring his home planet. Going there is an inconvenience, maybe, but it's not really a punishment. It's where he lives.

Metroman's 'death' changes all that.

Not only does one of Megamind's evil plans finally destroy something that (seemingly) can't be fixed, but he's then turned loose on the city with no superhero to run around after him cleaning up his mess.

Now, if he steals all the artwork in the gallery, then Metro City will no longer have artwork in it's gallery, and people (Roxanne) will miss it and be upset. If he doesn't take care to clean the streets then the streets… will be dirty, and people (Roxanne) will be negatively affected.

If he gives a random, unstable, person superpowers and then goes out of his way to piss that person off, then that person can't be guaranteed upon to “play the game” just because that's what Metroman did, and people (Megamind… then everybody else) will be negatively affected.

And the flipside of this is that, by the end of the film, he wins the battle because he realises "hey, I can change this". If his negative actions have negative consequences then he can choose to do the positive thing instead and save the city.

#megamind #megamind meta #megamind analysis

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flower-yi · 22 days

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Margaret's greeting to you is sweet.

She's the assistant Veritas took in three years ago, and hasn't left since. Most people applying to the position have ulterior motives—you glumly recall a specific student, because my goodness, they have little to no shame these days—but just one meeting with her made you sure she'd be 'the one'. Her unwavering yet gentle disposition was endearing, and despite Veritas's distrustful attitude, she got in anyways.

(You think it's one of the best decisions he's made.)

"Is there anything in the mail?" You ask, shutting the door behind you.

She hums, "No, not really."

"Really?" This surprises you. Usually, it's a race to contact him on anything new he's working on. "Veritas said he's expecting letters for that weapon he's finished working on. You know, the anti-planetary one?"

"Remind me what's... that, again?"

Margaret furrows her eyebrows. Maybe Veritas forgot to tell her. "Remember that project he's been working on for a long time? The weapon got sent in for a test-firing and it was successful. So, he's waiting for any correspondence from anyone who'd like to expand on it."

(You remember peeking into his office, once, wondering why he was up so late. He promised more than four hours ago that he'll join you in bed, but there was only a coldness to his side of the bed you'll never get accustomed to.

"I will be there in a couple minutes, my love," Veritas addressed you without lifting his gaze from the blueprints he's scribbling on. From the mess on his hands, it seems he's been working on it since tucking you in. "You may go to the bedroom yourself. It is unnecessary to wait on me."

Instead of listening to him, you entered his office with the door clicking behind you. Veritas's head lifted, lips parted and about to say something, but he stopped; adjusting his glasses.

You draped over him, meeting cold skin.

"What're you working on?" You asked, instead. His warmth soothed you. "Mmh... looks like it's important."

Veritas placed a hand on yours, raised to his lips to be kissed. Aeons, your little doctor was so warm. "This weapon... will be a magnum opus. One that will eventually serve its purpose, and will be recognized for years to come."

Even in the sleep-addled brain of yours, you knew it was important.

"Yeah?"

"Indeed. It will be a weapon that will..." Veritas suddenly fell silent, alarming you. He was quick to assure you with another kiss to your hand, "Do not be so concerned, my love. Either way, this weapon will be reaching its final stages soon."

You were nearing dreamland, at this point. You recall it well.

Though the mutter under his breath was ingrained in your brain:

"An anti-planetary weapon that will, hopefully, earn Nous's blessing this time...")

The spark of recognition appears, "Oh, that one!"

"You know it," you toss her a smile. "So, what's the status? I hope the Genius Society picks up one of his inventions this time. He's been looking forward to it ever since."

You take a moment to place the paper bags on the table, setting aside your bag on one of the chairs for visitors. It's well into the afternoon, classes are finished, and by Veritas's schedule, you're sure both are famished. It's strange he's not in his office at this time. You're never late with your visits, so perhaps it's likely you're early and Veritas is late.

He's probably finishing up the last lectures of the day somewhere.

"I feel the same," Margaret knows Veritas to an extent that falls closely to yours, and it's not hard to root for him the same way you do. It warms your heart to hear how Margaret holds him in high-esteem. "Mr. Ratio's one of the best, they'd be out of the minds to not induct him into the Society—oh, are those chicken wraps?"

The chicken wraps are steaming as you tear away the aluminium foil. "Yeah, I bought it for the two of you. Want one?" Her eager nod has a laugh huff out of you, so you hand it to her. You joke, "So hungry you nearly forgot, huh?"

"Yeah... where did you buy them?"

"It's near the university. There were so many students I had to fight for it..." Thankfully, one of the vendors pitied your nearly trampled self and gave you two on the house. You make a silent note to bring Veritas there to pay your debt. "...anyways, where were we?"

Margaret pauses, "Mr. Ratio's genius?"

Well, that's not what you were saying, but it's a part of the topic. "Yes, genius. Veritas is intelligent, of course. Speaking of genius, did the Genius Society send anything?"

Margaret's reaction to your question is strange. She freezes, chicken wrap just hovering in front of her mouth. Your inquisitive gaze snaps her out of her reverie, and when getting her bearings, she's avoiding your eyes. "Nothing... yet, of course. I've been watching the mail for a week already."

A week? The Genius Society's correspondence normally would not take so long. "Is there anything else in the mail?"

"No, not really," she nods her head.

Huh? The disconnect between her body language and words makes no sense at all. However, the soft smile on Margaret's lips takes the edge of the suspicion off. Why would she lie to your face, though? Unless something's happened, then...

You decide to say something else. "I see... perhaps there's some issue with the mailing system?"

"Maybe!" Margaret agrees too easily with you. Her voice went too high-pitched, smile exaggerated, then she changes the subject, "Have you eaten on the way here? It feels impolite to be the only one eating."

The sudden mention of manners has you laugh awkwardly. It's already strange enough she's avoiding a simple question like she is right now but the poor girl looks like she's about to burst with your incessant questioning of if there's anything in the mail .

Is it really so hard to answer?

"Yes, I did," you answer. Gesturing to her chicken wrap, you say, "So, go ahead and eat. It's alright."

When you turn your gaze away from her, it's as if Margaret breathes a sigh of relief. It's obvious even in the corner of your eye. For the three years she's been here, her knowledge on Veritas's projects would be better than yours. After all, it is something work related, and she deals with his correspondence to anyone on behalf of him.

If she's lying like this, then there must be a reason. A Veritas-shaped reason, indeed, because he's got a bad habit of concealing things when it comes to something.

Letting Margaret be, you take a seat on one of the chairs meant for guests. Veritas's office is a spacious one, with a small reception area for visitors to wait on him. The door to his office is by the left, the entrance to this space on the right, and Margaret's desk in the middle of the room with the lounge chairs lined up by the wall in front of her.

With this placement, it provides you a clear view of Veritas's door... and the light escaping below it.

He's here in his office and he didn't come out to greet you.

Several emotions rise up and simmer in you. Some of them are negative. Well. Most of them are, because the way alarm and concern starts to boil within you is too much.

You take a deep breath to sort your emotions first. Your feelings are negative, and worry takes the top of the list. There are some wisps of anger but it quickly melts into the emotion up top and you slowly realise that Veritas has not messaged you even once starting... 1700 system hours ago.

With your phone now in hand, you shoot him a message.

It's something to the effect of asking where he is. The loud ding! of his own phone seeps out of his office room, out into the reception, and into Margaret and yours' ears.

Guilt colours Margaret's face vibrantly.

"I can explain," she begins as you stand up, making your way to his office. Poor girl, she's been shocked out of savouring the chicken wrap you've bought. "He's— he needs some time to himself..."

It's something other than needing time to himself, you know it, you know .

You give her a rueful smile, "Is that why you told me there's no mail?"

Margaret... falls short on an answer. The diverting of her eyes to the floor tells you everything. The successful test-firing of that anti-planetary weapon was done a few weeks ago, and everyone in the know was scrambling to cover it. It was Veritas, after all, and his name—like every genius—is known across the star systems. It'd make no sense there was no mail, no nothing , to be sent to him.

You only hold on to that tiny, little hope that you're wrong and Veritas is too caught on rejoicing to have noticed your arrival.

Only a look of understanding could be given to her. To scream, to yell, to let everything burst on Margaret is counter-productive. Maybe, if you asked, she'd say that she was merely doing what she, as an academic assistant, should do.

(If it was some other situation, you'd say—to his face—that you were right about Margaret. You'd say to him she's the best academic assistant he's ever had.)

You barely spare Margaret any glance before opening the door to his office. Thousands of thoughts trickle into your brain now, ranging from is he okay? to I hope nothing's bad happened.

Every moment of you turning the knob to open feels like in slow motion. Your heart is racing, just every inkling sending you in a worry-filled tizzy, and you feel nearly paralyzed in the spot where you are right now.

You open the door, and pity and fear and just everything drops a cold bucket over you.

Veritas sits on the chair by his desk, a crumpled letter on the wood and his headpiece discarded somewhere off to the side.

You're sure he's heard you coming in.

"Veritas?"

He absentmindedly says, "You may enter."

Veritas's voice doesn't have the usual lilt it has. It does not carry around the room, nor does it have its self-assured cadence that comes from being a genius. He stares at the scenery outside his office window, as if too entranced with the way light leaves the sky to make way for the moon. The moon that merely borrows its lumination from the sun.

The door locks behind you with a click that seems to echo in the dreadfully silent office. Now, only your footsteps make noise while approaching him. You move like you're holding your breath, not wanting to startle an animal that's already on its last legs.

But it's Veritas. He's not some lowly animal, though you know his heart to be softer than anyone else would presume.

Leaned over him, you bring his face into your hands. He lets you so readily, not once making any smart comment about handling him like porcelain.

(You received such a comment, once, when doing so the first time. Before Margaret, it was you. It was so long ago you don't recall, but Veritas had turned to you for help in handling his interactions with the "outside world", he'd call it, and this time, he was busy with a project. Some prototype he'd been originally commissioned to make, though, without any second thoughts, turned down any offer of payment and instead asked that his name be "spread across the cosmos". You originally blanched at the credits the ruler of the planet was willing to drop for Veritas's involvement in their planet-wide security, but he easily brushed your surprise off. At that moment, you were sure that, to him, it was another day of putting his gifts to use. Another day of using his intelligence to aid in the prosperity of civilizations, as if it was nothing to boast about. "Do I seem to evoke some child-like energy to hold me like this?" Veritas questioned, a quizzical brow arched. There was nothing in his tone that suggested he disliked it to the point of abhorrence. If anything, he looked— curious as to why you'd hold him like this. Instead of answering that silent question, you cooed, "Oh, yes. A little baby, indeed! You're so adorable—" "That's enough," he interrupted. You couldn't help but laugh at his disgusted face. "While I appreciate the gesture, I ask you continue sorting through the letters that came through the mail if you are wasting your time like this." "You call this wasted time? I'm suddenly not allowed to hold my handsome boy like this." Veritas's eyes narrowed. "Cease calling me a 'handsome boy', and I will consider this time to be not of the 'wasted' sort." So, he didn't hate it then. You smiled. "You like it then, Veritas?" He fell silent, you recall. His eyes bore into yours, and for a moment, it seemed like he'd say no. Then Veritas turned his head, kissed your palm, and murmured, "If it's you... then, yes.")

You wonder if he can outright acknowledge it's you who's holding him this way. He seems so out of it that what gnaws at you says no, but you try. You try for him. "Veritas?" You say, again, redirecting his attention to you. His eyes follow his head's movement, but it drags, and it's like it's taking everything out of him to begin looking at you.

Faint recognition appears on his face, and his voice softens too much, unlike the usual way he addresses you, "...My apologies for not greeting you when you came. I was absorbed in my readings of a letter the IPC sent me. An invitation of some sorts..."

When you see his eyes, the world falls silent.

Oh, Aeons, his eyes. Its lost its sheen and barely looks like he's there at all.

Your heart aches. So, that's it, then.

"What did they invite you to, love?" You ask, caressing his cheeks.

Veritas breathes as if it takes so much out of him to say, “The Intelligentsia Guild.”

“Ah,” You hum, willing the sadness away from your features. This moment is about Veritas, not you. “I see. You think I should reply to them, instead?”

The shake of Veritas’s head is slow. The hand he raises to envelop over yours is warm, yet you cannot find yourself to find comfort in it. “It is… better than nothing, love.”

The sight of Veritas blurs.

And, of course, out of everything, he notices you.

"You're crying," Veritas whispers softly. He reaches over and attempts to wipe away the tears streaming down, trying to soothe you. "Am I the cause of your tears? Then, I apologize. For... for being such a failure in front of you. Nous has not deemed me enough." You hadn't realized your eyes beginning to water; a single tear brought on a waterfall.

Aeons, you want to beat him ten times over. "You're not supposed to say sorry, Veritas. I'm... I'm only so worried about you."

Veritas meets eyes with you, and knows that it's not enough to cover the defeat. The disappointment surrounding his head like clouds, blurring every aspect of himself that he thought himself to be worthy of Nous' gaze.

He looks tired; an exhaustion that drills into his bones and something far beyond you. You think he's feeling the countless hours he's poured into that weapon, the surge of ambition and dedication used to fuel his drive, and the beginning of something chipping away at him and you don't know what.

(It scares you. It scares you because Veritas shoulders too many burdens he should have given to you to share.)

"You're the best scholar I’ve ever met, Veritas,“ You tell him, pushing past the tears that line your face. ”The smartest I’ve ever seen. Have you known your intelligence was the part of you that pulled me towards you? Your genius is unparalleled, my love. There is no one else I can think of if, ever, someone asks me about the most astute person I know.“

Does he think they are empty compliments? Because Veritas merely says, “Your words are better suited to a man whose Nous’ gaze fell upon him.”

You fall silent, defeated. What are you supposed to say? Are you to tell him that Nous does not matter, when his life is centered around knowledge? What is someone to do in this situation? What is comfort to a man who has been seared beyond recognition by an Aeon whom he worships?

“It is not hopeless,” Someone speaks, and you take a moment to recognize that it is you who has spoken. “Will you let an Aeon define who you are, Veritas?”

Veritas’s eyes slip close, and his forehead rests against yours. There is nothing but your soft sniffling, the steady breathing of your lover, and the persistent ticking of the clock in his office that sounds off. It is quiet and chilling, as if waiting for some bomb to tick off to end this moment once and for all.

His eyelids flutter, reddish-pink eyes peeking through—some brightness have returned, but not enough.

Veritas replies, “I… will try not to let them define me.”

To you, that is enough.

(You know than more that he will take this moment, and let it haunt him.)

#—stellaronhvnters.#veritas ratio #dr ratio #honkai star rail #veritas ratio x reader #dr ratio x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #hanyi-writing #kinda my love letter to ratio?#he makes me sad in the way that i understand him? kinda?#i mean. i'm in no way smart but that character story part 3 of his #hit me in a way i was like. gods. i understand you.

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importantbusinessdinosaur · 21 days

Note

What do you think of 2000AD comics?

2000AD is great, Judge Dredd is one of those comics you can just get really into at any point in your life, if you ever want a glimpse into UK comics scene it's always worth looking at, especially the Judge Death stories with Brain Bolland art.

Mag-freaking-nificent.

Okay, formalities out of the way? We've said Judge Dredd is cool?

Right.

Sit the fuck down and let me tell you about my favourite 200AD comic.

Let me tell you about:

NEMESIS THE WARLOCK

NEMESIS THE WARLOCK!

FIGHTING THE EVIL OF THE CHIEF TERMINATOR

TORQUEMADA

Look let me get into this. Most people know Kevin O'Neill because of his work on League of Extraordinary Gentlemen with Alan Moore. I know him most for Nemesis.

Nothing comes close to the absolute insanity and creativity of Nemesis the Warlock. It is some of the greatest design work ever done and speaks volumes of the environment it was created in.

Every panel, every scene has new and inventive characters, environment, objects. It doesn't stop surprising you with how it portrays everything. They mess with scale a lot, having huge sculptures of people as buildings or just making people tiny on Moebius inspired planes

Have a look at this shot of Nemesis at his writing desk

There is so much going on there it's fantastic. Anyway. Plot? Plot. Nemesis is the leader of the revolutionary army fighting Torquemada, who wants to exterminate all alien life so that only "pure" humans exist. Sounds pretty straightforward right?

Except Nemesis is a Warlock, he only does things in the most over the top evil way to combat him. And not in a "sacrifice your troops" evil way, but in a "haunt this guy and make him think I'm the devil so he does my bidding" way

(I want a church organ with a "brimstone" intonation)

Nemesis also comes through a matriarchal society, and when they attack his family he does indeed go ballistic. I feel it's important you know what the females of his species look like.

Awesome.

Any way thank you for giving me an excuse to talk about Nemesis, I highly recommend it it's an absolute blast.

#2000ad #nemesis the warlock

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sashi-ya · 7 months

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𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟑 DAY 8: SEX MACHINE Vinsmoke Brothers 𝘹 𝘍! 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

Requested by: @shogunfura ➡ Hi hi Sashi 😊 I saw your kinktober Event and you know how much I love the vinsmokes, soooo I neeeed to request something. I was thinking about day 8 sex machine if it's not already taken. So as an extra kink I would say foursome, cause I would like all three of them 🤤 Gender should be female with she/her pronouns please 😊 I hope you feel better these days. I know that you had a hard time and I just want to let you know that I'm rooting for you, even though I'm not that active. I always appreciate the time and effort you put into your fics. Keep up the good work, I love to read your entrys 🙈😊 ➡ thank u so much sweetheart, please enjoy! 💖💖 tw: mdni. usage of a "sex machine". tubes, inflation, suction and filling with liquids (heavily inspired on those echhi comics with tubes and tentacles :P). oral. vag. nipple play. depravity. could be considered dark content, so read it under your own risk. 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“Prince Ichiji… what- what is this?” “Our new invention, do you like it (Name)?” “I- yes… ngh…”

You were used to have fun with the Germa princes. They don’t treat you like a slave like they do to other women; you could say are one of them. Being the princess of another reign aligned to the Germa 66 one, you are free to visit them as they are to visit you. And those visits include rough, savage, violent sexual encounters. Sometimes together, sometimes with one of the sibling. But all of them based in pure lust and depravity that fill your hollow hearts.

That Sunday afternoon, after getting tea with the guys, they invited to meet their new “toy”.

You should have at least suspected. It should have been clear to you that what were you gonna fid inside that sterile lab looking room was machinery for… pleasure.

A table, similar to a hospital bed, lies in the middle of the room. Around several computers with a variety of tentacle like tubes.

“Would you like to be the first one to try, Princess (Name)?” Vinsmoke Niji asks, placing his hands on your shoulders.

You don’t think much, you have no choice but to cooperate. The one asking is the least comprehensive than the three of them.

“Mh… yes” you murmur, as your royal attire gets already untied by those irreverent hands.

And soon, completely nude, you are invited to sit on the cold surface of that “bed”.

Ichiji Vinsmoke comes closer to you, as he is the one entitled to operate the main computer.

“There… get comfortable for me, ok?” he says, pushing the button ON on a wide keyboard on what looks like the main console of the machine.

You wait in silence, smiling uncomfortably to the two brothers looking at you with their pants already tenting. If they were animals, they be frothing at the mouth. The reflex of your nudity over the metallic bed gives them a beautiful, mirrored image of your already wetting sex.

A few sounds catch your attention, and soon you notice Ichiji holding the first tube in his hands.

“So, the first one should be connected to… your right nipple” he murmurs, as if he was a doctor ready to perform surgery on a patient. Except that you are able to listen, and completely awake for that matter.

The tube instantly attaches to your nipple with negative pressure, imitating the sucking motions of their lips.

Then, with no words but a side smirk, Ichiji connects yet another tube to your other nipple.

You are already trying to stop yourself from squirming, as the sucking intensifies, and it feels absolutely amazing.

“You are liking it already, (Name). Aren’t you?” Yonji asks, coming closer to you by the other side of the bed.

You nod, biting your lips but never taking all of the attention away from Ichiji. He is the one controlling the mysterious sex machine, and you wonder what else will be attached to -or inserted in- your body at any moment.

And indeed, in his hand he takes yet another tube but this time with no attachment by the end of it.

He shows it to you with that smirking that never fades away from his lips. Your already desperate façade reflects on his cherry red glasses.

“Now, we have already played with vibrators. But I believe never with a suction toy, right?” he asks you, pondering something.

“I- no- no. we ne-ngh-ver” you barely answer as the sucking in your nipples become stronger every second it passes, with different patterns that you are mostly sure will be imitated in your sex.

“Good, suction it is then. Don’t worry, though. There will be vibration either way” he says, laughing at Niji who apparently enjoys that last part most than the rest.

An attachment, that reminds you of an oxygen mask, gets fixed into the tube and such tube gets directed towards your sex.

Immediately after, the suction begins. Pumping air can be felt, and your clit feels like exploding in a matter of seconds. This time it is almost impossible for you to rest still.

As you squirm, receiving a pleasure ever taken by your body, you notice Yonji’s desperate erection coming closer to your lips.

You wonder if that’s all, but you are surely wrong. And even if you wish to be sucking his dick right now, your squirming motions aren’t making it easy.

“Ichiji, she won’t stop moving” Yonji grunts, protesting as your lips can’t surround his shaft comfortably as he wishes.

“That’s why you should wait, but if you can’t let me hold her still for you” he says, typing a couple of unknown words on the computer.

You widen your eyes, not knowing exactly what’s about to happen but soon you learn cold metallic straps have trapped you against the bed.

“There, beast. Fuck her mouth” Ichiji says, while your mouth receives the impertinent sex of the youngest of them all.

You aren’t mad as the salty flavour of his precum fills your tongue, but you aren’t definitely comfortable either. The shackles are hurting your wrists and ankles, but pleasure is stronger to notice such pain.

As you gag and tear up from the deep rams of Yonji’s dick against your throat, you feel an explosive climax reaching you. You let it happen, you don’t need to hold back, you really needed relief.

But a single orgasm won’t be enough, and nor you are having a time off after it. In fact, Niji, who is standing by your feet is ready to play with your body too.

“Ichiji, let go one of her feet” he asks, in between your muffled moaning and the sound of your skin slapping against the bed.

The red-haired brother surely turns his eyes white but allows your right leg to be freed. Niji, traps it and takes your toe into his mouth. Who knew the blue demon liked feet that much.

He gets your toe completely dampened and then continues with the rest of the feet, only to take it to his freed sex.

“Move it up and down, bitch” he moans, while you feel the wetness of his sprouting precum on his tip, mixing with his saliva.

And to his grunts, Yonji add his. Filling, with no shame, your mouth of his cum. You choke with it, giving them the imagery of white sticky product running through the commissure of your lips.

“That’s good, bitch” Yonji celebrates, cleaning -smearing- your face off his own cum.

You blink repeatedly, with your head in the clouds and probably unaware of what’s coming for you next.

And it is, indeed, the second brother who’s already crawling on top of the bed. He is not willing to wait, and apparently your foot against his shaft isn’t satisfying him no more.

Ichiji laughs at your reaction when seeing Niji topping you all of a sudden. He pulls the suction cup on your sex, making you mewl. It didn’t hurt, indeed, it felt amazing.

“Look at how inflamed you are… so pretty” Niji laughs, playing with your swollen labia and squirting liquids.

You swallow the left overs of Yonji’s cum, it is hard to do so as it sticks down the walls of your throats. But you don’t mind, you will drink plenty of water after -that if, you survive this-.

The sudden intrusion makes you whine, but it does not surprise you. Niji’s dick has been several times inside you, and this is yet another one of those. However, as you are swollen, a lot more sensitive and needy, the ramming motions of his hips are better than ever.

Ichiji has release your other foot so that your legs are now resting on Niji’s shoulder. But still, you wonder what is his gonna do next.

By the side of your eye, you take a swift look at what he holds in his hands, and it is yet another tube he seems to be preparing.

Several are the minutes of uncontrollable and merciless fucking Niji blesses you with, and several are also the times you come with him and the sucking cups on your nipples still attached to you.

And right after he finishes filling you up, it’s time for the first born to have fun. Him whose king qualities always shine the brightest, moves his brother to the side before kissing your lips with a soft peck.

But don’t let it fool you. He might be more delicate, and maybe even more put together… but the red haired one, is the cruellest of them all.

“See this, (Name)? Do you know what this is?” he asks, showing the tube in his hand. It is different from the rest, it looks to be dripping with some kind of lubrication liquid.

“N- no… wha- what is it?” you ask, this time for real scared.

He smirks, taking off his glasses and flashing his blue irises to you. “Ah… this is my special one. My creation” he scoffs, walking slowly to your feet.

“See… you have just experienced suction and penetration separately. But, now I want you to experience everything and more at the same time”

A couple of shackles are now holding your legs spread apart to almost feeling like breaking your body in half. You understand that in case pleasure gets too high, you won’t be able to even close them as a natural response.

“Now, allow me to insert this… you will feel your womb a little… full” Ichiji says, sticking that cold tube into you.

A soon warm and cold mix of some liquid begins to fill you up; you feel a bulge forming in your lower belly.

“Wh- what is it?” you ask, with widen eyes but still squirming because it feels unexpectedly good.

“It’s a bio liquid I developed, it will enhance your sensations” he informs you, violently pressing down your belly. “Try to hold it…” he jokes, knowing too well it would be almost impossible to do so.

Yet, your walls work hard not to let a single drop scape your womb. And it makes you tremble, as the pressure plays against your G spot like nothing before.

“Ichi-Ichiji… this- is amazing…” you huff. No amount of air is enough.

“I know, right… but what if I add a little bit of this? will you be able to hold it in?” he murmurs, while the tube inside of you begins to vibrate.

You close your eyes. Painfully trying to stop the contents inside of you to come out… this time, losing the battle, dripping down the liquids all over the bed, having yet another orgasm…

“Honey… you are ready for me now” “Fuck her rough, brother!”

taglist: @stephisokay @henrioo @shuzuiikoii @bullbonez @fengxinwifutobecalled @i-started-reading-fanfics-at12 @crimsonlikeshellsing @weebare808 @thestarwasborn @bookandyarndragon @cyberdazetragedy @uzxotic and @kwnblack because come on, vinsmokes are our guilty pleasure 💖🤭

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cyanhydrangea · 3 months

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Nerd(s) [Bayverse Donatello x Reader]

Summary: Donnie thinks you're always avoiding him because he's a nerd, he's about to find out the real reason

Warning: mentions of bullying

Donnie notices you love to spend your free time with his brothers

You often meditate with Leo

You workout with Raph

You play video games with Mikey

But he also notices you never spends your time with him, just the two of you.

Once he invites you into his lab since he often see you stand at the entrance of his lab, but you immediately excuse yourself, saying there's an urgent thing to do at home. (He could hear mikey's whine, saying "aren't we gonna play skateboard [name]??")

Donnie feels like you're always avoiding him, and it saddened him.

Out of curiosity, he once stalks you online, because he had to admit he might has a 'lil crush on you. He found your social medias and make a conclusion that you're quite popular. No wonder, you're gorgeous, after all.

Perhaps, you just don't want to hang out with a nerd like him.

At least, that's what he thought.

One day, you were exhausted and fell asleep on the couch at the lair. Donnie walked past by, heading to his lab but stopped when he heard something.

You, sleep talking, mumbling...

...chemical elements? In periodic table order?

Donnie got closer to you, to hear more clearly what you're saying in your sleep, and indeed you were sleep-talking periodic table of elements, in order.

Raph and Mikey's sudden presence, fighting over the last pizza they had, woken you up. And you weren't expecting the purple masked turtle to be so close to you

"Uhh, hi Donnie"

"Hi, uhmmm"

You get up to sit on the couch, Donnie's not sure if he should tell you what happened but he can't help it.

"You were sleep talking..."

"I did?"

"Yeah, about chemical elements...in periodic table order..."

You can feel your face got warmer, you can't believe what you just been told.

"Do you have any interest in chemistry?" Donnie can't help but ask.

You gulped, unsure how to answer it.

"I used to...I mean I still do, I mean---"

You sigh, "It's complicated....I have a love-hate relationship with science in general"

Donnie sits beside you, getting intrigued.

"You see, I used to be a massive nerd in school, but I get bullied for it everyday. I make a decision to change my persona when I started high school. I abandoned my love for science altogether so I won't go back to the nerdy persona and won't get bullied again"

You paused before you continue, "But when I met you and see you have this amazing lab with awesome inventions, my inner nerd self is dying to spends a lot of time with you. But you also reminds me of my past self, and the painful memories of getting bullied keeps replaying in my head"

Donnie's heart breaks hearing your story

"I'm sorry you've been through those traumatic events"

You tried to smile, "It's ok, it's not your fault or anything"

Donnie locks his determined eyes with yours "I want to assure you that you're safe here, w-with me, whenever you're ready for the joy of science again"

You blushed by the eye contact, "T-thank you"

The thought of spending time with your crush doing things you love makes both you and Donnie feels a warm, fuzzy feeling inside.

#CyanHydrangea

Date Written: 17/01/2024

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talenlee · 11 months

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Hanamusa, Explained

There is a nonzero chance if you follow me on tumblr, you’ve seen the term ‘Hanamusa’ attached to something I shared. It’s probably also some super cute art of Delia Ketchum and Jessie Teamrocket, and you may wonder what is going on and also, why is there so much good art of this.

Hanamusa as a term derives from the Japanese names of the characters – Hanako and Musashi. If you’re into shipping name structures, Hana-Musa implies that Hanako is the seme and Musashi the uke, but I don’t think that holds for all use cases of the type of terminology. It’s a ship. It’s an AU ship, as in an ‘alternate universe’ ship, where the two characters are presented in a context outside of the normal context of the anime presentation of them.

The Hanamusa ship as I understand it is set at some point after Jessie and James stop chasing Ash around, and Jessie settles down into a relationship with Delia. There’s tension about her history with Ash and the confusion about finding Your Personal Villain dating your mom, but mostly it’s about showing a sweet domestic life between two characters you know very well in a format I kind of see as like, Comedy-Sabot Romantic 4koma. Like, Hanamusa content is funny (and it is VERY funny) but it doesn’t need to be funny, because the main thing it’s about is showing these two characters and their relationship as they do cute things together.

It’s why people watch shows like K-On basically.

As for where this idea comes from, (EDIT: Slightly wonky wording here, I should have phrased 'this current fandom push' - I don't have any reason to believe Mai INVENTED the ship, just that when you go looking you'll wind up at her work) it seems to have its genesis with the work of one Kiana Mai, who developed this ship some time ago. Kiana Mai is also an extremely skilled artist, and one of those skills seems to be focus, creating these extremely clean-line excellently structured scene vignettes with no unnecessary content in them but also no need to rocket along. It’s amazing, engaging work that uses every part of the small format amazingly well. Which makes sense because one of the things Kiana Mai does is storyboarding work for Disney animated TV shows, a task at which I am sure she no doubt excels.

What I think is the most interesting aspect of Hanamusa, to me specifically, is that it manages to combine three things I don’t actually care about, in a way that doesn’t interfere with something I have unexpectedly strong opinions on. I do not watch Pokemon, and I have not shed a tear for Team Rocket and Ash Ketchum wandering into the sunset. That is a show that is not for or about my interests and that is okay. Indeed, imagining that it should be about what interests me is baffling. I think if I stopped watching a show twenty years ago, I have lost all right to act like I’m entitled to expect it remain the way it was all the way back then.

But I do have opinions on Jessie and James’ character voice. Not their voice acting – I mean, I know for a fact they’ve had to change over time and no voice actor should be obligated to kick it in the same role for what could be their entire career. I mean the way they talk about things and the words they use and kind of emphasis they put on words when they talk. About the way they voice their ideas, or the way they express who they are in the way they talk to one another, that stuff. It’s about affordances and persona, about the kind of people you project being by what words you choose to use and the affect when using them.

It’s why when, if a picture of a character is underneath it, you can read some dril posts as being ‘appropriately’ voiced by a character, even if it’s describing a candle situation that Francis Crozier did not have opinions on.

Jessie has a voice.

Jessie, in my head, is someone capable of moments of tenderness and friendship that is normally overwhelmed by an incredible confidence in ability she does not have and mere reality will never be given permission to infringe on it. Jessie is unassailably unstoppably sure of herself, thoughtlessly stupid in a way that doesn’t mean she is stupid, but which exists in a context of someone who has relentlessly pursued excellence in her job which is also the equivalent of being a late night 7/11 manager. She is the Girlboss that is Gaslighting herself into thinking she has something to Gatekeep.

Delia Ketchum by comparison is a very nice piece of wallpaper. Every appearance of her in my mind is someone Very Nice who is Very Patient and Very Supportive and has managed to keep literally all emotionally challenging conversations from happening around Ash, which can be perhaps easier when you remember that he, too, is an idiot. I don’t know how Delia Ketchum talks, but I do know that there are ways that Delia Ketchum does not talk.

This is interesting! It’s interesting because it presents a character where I am very sure I know what she does do when she does it, and a character about whom I can only be sure wouldn’t do some things. It creates a character space, and it creates expectations of affect and performance within that space. Ash and other characters show up as well, but because they get to interact with this already-defined space, you get treated to this really lovely kind of resonance. Would Ash call Jessie ‘dad’? Maybe, to bug her. He was good at being a twerp. Wasn’t he? I mean I remember it that way, he seems to work out that way, but… how would I know?

I know more of this AU where Jessie is studying to be a Pokemon Doctor and Ash wears glasses than I do of the source material any more. And if you’re wondering ‘hey, do Jessie and Delia ever meet in the source material?’ Like, yeah, for a few seconds. What, the point is creating something new.

If you want to check out Hanamusa stuff and read the comics, I recommend going and clicking on the hashtag on tumblr.

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

#Anime #Media

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mostlysignssomeportents · 1 year

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When you hear "fintech," think "unlicensed bank"

Tomorrow (May 2) I’ll be in Portland at the Cedar Hills Powell’s with Andy Baio for my new novel, Red Team Blues.

In theory, patents are for novel, useful inventions that aren’t obvious “to a skilled practitioner of the art.” But as computers ate our society, grifters began to receive patents for “doing something we’ve done for centuries…with a computer.” “With a computer”: those three words had the power to cloud patent examiners’ minds.

If you’d like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here’s a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/01/usury/#tech-exceptionalism

Patent trolls — who secure “with a computer” patents and then extract ransoms from people doing normal things on threat of a lawsuit — are an underappreciated form of “tech exceptionalism.” Normally, “tech exceptionalism” refers to bros who wave away things like privacy invasions by arguing that “with a computer” makes it all different.

These tech exceptionalists are the legit face of tech exceptionalism, the Forbes 30 Under 30 set. They’re grifters, but they’re celebrated grifters. There’s a whole bottom-feeding sludge of tech exceptionalists that don’t get the same kind of attention, like patent trolls.

Oh, and the fintech industry.

As Riley Quinn says, “when you hear ‘fintech,’ think: ‘unlicensed bank.’” The majority of fintech “innovation” consists of adding “with a computer” to highly regulated activities and declaring them to be unregulated (and, in the case of crypto, unregulatable).

There are a lot of heavily regulated financial activities, like dealing in securities (something the crypto industry is definitely doing and claims it isn’t). Most people don’t buy or sell securities regularly — indeed, most Americans own little or no stocks.

But you know what regulated financial activity a lot of Americans participate in?

Going into debt.

As wages stagnate and the price of housing, medical care, childcare, transportation and education soar, Americans fund their consumption with debt. Trillions of dollars’ worth of debt. Many of us are privileged to borrow money by walking into a bank and asking for a loan, but millions of Americans are denied that genteel experience.

Instead, working Americans increasingly rely on payday lenders and other usurers who charge sky-high interest rates, on top of penalties and fees, trapping borrowers in an endless cycle of indebtedness. This is an historical sign of a civilization in decline: productive workers require loans to engage in useful activities. Normally, the activity pans out — the crop comes in, say — and the debt is repaid.

But eventually, you’ll get a bad beat. The crop fails, the workshop burns down, a pandemic shuts down production. Instead of paying off your debt, you have to roll it over. Now, you’re in an even worse situation, and the next time you catch a bad break, you go further into debt. Over time, all production comes under the control of creditors.

The historical answer to this is jubilee: a regular wiping-away of all debt. While this was often dressed up in moral language, there was an absolutely practical rationale for it. Without jubilee, eventually, all the farmers stop growing food so that they can grow ornamental flowers for their creditors’ tables. Then, as starvation sets in, civilization collapses:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/07/08/jubilant/#construire-des-passerelles

As the debt historian Michael Hudson says, “Debts that can’t be paid, won’t be paid.” Without jubilee, indebtedness becomes a chronic and inescapable condition. As more and more creditors attach their claims to debtors’ assets, they have to compete with one another to terrorize the debtor into paying them off, first. One creditor might threaten to garnish your paycheck. Another, to repossess your car. Another, to evict you from your home. Another, to break your arm. Debts that can’t be paid, won’t be paid — but when you have a choice between a broken arm and stealing from your kid’s college fund or the cash-register, maybe the debt can be paid…a little. Of course, digital tools offer all kinds of exciting new tools for arm-breakers — immobilizing your car, say, or deleting the apps on your phone, starting with the ones you use most often:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/02/innovation-unlocks-markets/#digital-arm-breakers

Under Trump, payday lenders romped through America. A lobbyist for the payday lenders became a top Trump lawyer:

https://theintercept.com/2017/11/27/white-house-memo-justifying-cfpb-takeover-was-written-by-payday-lender-attorney/

This lobbyist then oversaw Trump’s appointment of a Consumer Finance Protection Bureau boss who deregulated payday lenders, opening the door to triple digit interest rates:

https://www.latimes.com/business/lazarus/la-fi-lazarus-cfpb-payday-lenders-20180119-story.html

To justify this, the payday loan industry found corruptible academics and paid them to write papers defending payday loans as “inclusive.” These papers were secretly co-authored by payday loan industry lobbyists:

https://www.washingtonpost.com/business/2019/02/25/how-payday-lending-industry-insider-tilted-academic-research-its-favor/

Of course, Trump doesn’t read academic papers, so the payday lenders also moved their annual conference to a Trump resort, writing the President a check for $1m:

https://www.propublica.org/article/trump-inc-podcast-payday-lenders-spent-1-million-at-a-trump-resort-and-cashed-in

Biden plugged many of the cracks that Trump created in the firewalls that guard against predatory lenders. Most significantly, he moved Rohit Chopra from the FTC to the CFPB, where, as director, he has overseen a determined effort to rein in the sector. As the CFPB re-establishes regulation, the fintech industry has moved in to add “with a computer” to many regulated activities and so declare them beyond regulation.

One fintech “innovation” is the creation of a “direct to consumer Earned Wage Access” product. Earned Wage Access is just a fancy term for a program some employers offer whereby workers can get paid ahead of payday for the hours they’ve already worked. The direct-to-consumer EWA offers loans without verifying that the borrower has money coming in. Companies like Earnin claim that their faux EWA services are free, but in practice, everyone who uses the service pays for the “Lightning Speed” upsell.

Of course they do. Earnin charges sky-high interest rates and twists borrowers’ arms into leaving a “tip” for the service (yes, they expect you to tip your loan-shark!). Anyone desperate enough to pay triple-digit interest rates and tip the service for originating their loan is desperate and needs to the money now:

https://prospect.org/power/05-01-2023-fintech-ewa-payday-loan-scam/

EWA annual interest rates sit around 300%. The average EWA borrower uses the service two or three times every month. EWA CEOs and lobbyists claim that they’re banking the unbanked — but the reality is that they’re acting as sticky-fingered brokers between banks and young, poor workers, marking up traditional bank services.

This fact is rarely mentioned when EWA companies lobby state legislatures seeking to be exempted from usury rules that are supposed to curb predatory lenders. In Vermont, Earnin wants an exemption from the state’s 18% interest rate cap — remember, the true APR for EWA loans is about 300%.

In Texas, payday lenders are classed as loan brokers, not loan originators and are thus able to avoid the state’s usury caps. EWAs are lobbying the Texas legislature for further exemptions from state money-transmitter and usury limit laws, principally on the strength of the “it’s different: we do it with a computer” logic.

But as Jarod Facundo writes for The American Prospect, quoting Monica Burks from the Center for Responsible Lending, a loan is a loan even if it’s with a computer: “The industry is trying to create a new definition for what a loan is in order to exempt themselves from existing consumer protection laws… When you offer someone a portion of money on the promise that they will repay it, and often that repayment will be accompanied with fees or charges or interest, that’s what a loan is.”

Catch me on tour with Red Team Blues in Mountain View, Berkeley, Portland, Vancouver, Calgary, Toronto, DC, Gaithersburg, Oxford, Hay, Manchester, Nottingham, London, and Berlin!

[Image ID: A stately, columnated bank building, bedecked in garish payday lender signs.]

Image: Andre Carrotflower (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:30_North_%28former_Pontiac_Commercial_%26_Savings_Bank_Building%29,_Pontiac,_Michigan_-_entrance_and_Chief_Pontiac_relief_sculpture_-_20201213.jpg

CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/deed.en

#pluralistic #cfpb #earned wage access #digital armbreakers #loansharks #payday lenders #tech exceptionalism #jubilee #debt #fintech #usury #michael hudson #graeber #debts that can't be paid wont be paid

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eepywriters · 4 months

Text

.✦°. • Birthday boy ( ´∀｀)

warnings: none, just pure fluff and simp Quackity

a/n: HI GUYS, I had to speedrun this so if it feels rushed I’m so sorry 😿 but I put heart into it so I hope y’all enjoy!!

Ah the bed, what a glorious invention. It’s comfy, fluffy, warm and, most importantly, it’s where, usually, one of the best activities it’s conducted: sleeping.

Now, Alex loves working, he does! It’s written all over his projects. The passion that drives every piece of work he makes couldn’t be as strong as it is without determination and etiquette. After all, he is indeed THE Alex Quackity, creator of the first multilingual server with live translations.

But sometimes, just sometimes, he doesn’t mind sleeping the day away. His pounding head and aching eyes beg for rest on the daily, so it’s nice to actually give his body and his mind a moment to shut down once in a while.

A touch on his naked arm made him stir in his sleep. He groans. He wasn’t ready to let go of his sweet slumber just yet.

“Alex, baby, wake up, I’ve got something for you”.

An half-conscious grumble leaves him, which was more of acknowledgement of hearing your voice speak to him rather than an answer to whatever you were babbling about. Cause listen, as sleep deprived as he could be, nothing could separate him from his bed when he was actually set on resting.

“Baby c’mon, we can nap later”.

The soft feeling of pillowy lips pressing against his temple finally rouses him from his sleep. He sighs, a throaty, sleepy sigh, while stretching his back lightly.

“There you are baby”

The gears on Alex’s head are slowly turning as his systems finally makes sense of the world surrounding him. And while most of his mind is concentrated on your delicate hand stroking oh so lovingly his cheek, he can’t help but notice the delicious smell that was floating around the air.

He opens his eyes, now wanting to find out what exactly was making his taste buds tingle in curiosity.

Oh what a grave mistake that was.

A streak of sunlight pierces his eyes instantly, making him close them back on instinct with a weak cry.

“Noo turn off the lights” he drawls sleepily, shielding his poor, aching eyes with his arms. His mouth was still pasty from his sleep and he, quite frankly, didn’t understand what was the deal about waking him up so soon.

And then you laugh, and on a normal occasion he would’ve bite back, cause you were obviously laughing at his idiotic behavior, but he was sooo sleepy and your laugh sounded sooo pretty. (When did he go to sleep again? 2 Am?).

Slowly blinking the sleep out of his system, Alex was met with a rather endearing sight: there you stood, a cute, big grin brightening your face whilst you looked down at him with an amused gaze. He could tell you where sleepy yourself, if not by your tired eyes, by the dark circle that were adorning your features. After all, what did anyone expect from the partner of Quackity? Two sleep deprived people are better than one. (He’s not gonna delve into what seeing you standing there with only an old t-shirt of his was doing to his body).

“Good morning birthday boy”.

Oh, now he knows why you rudely (not really) woke him up.

“Hey” he mutters, scratching his crusty, tired eyes, hoping that the sleepy haze that was still clouding his mind will go away.

“Damn that’s all I get? Not even a pet name? We live in a society…” you frowned.

“Shut up” he snorts, looking back at you, just for his eyes to stop at a little red box you were holding. It is very pretty: a big yellow ribbon was tying together the bright red walls of the box, and hey, was that a duck painted on the side of it?

Before his fogged brain can even come up with a question, you are already in action.

“Stand still, your only job is to look pretty now”

He quirks a brow. He’s not sure of what you have going on today, but he’s in for it, especially since he can still smell the sweetness of the treat you’re hiding inside that box.

He sits up and his head lolls backwards onto the cupboard, giving him the perfect angle to watch you fiddling around.

“It’s rude to stare you know?”

“Mhh is it? Even when there’s something so beautiful to look at?” he replies, jokingly wiggling his eyebrows up and down at you.

“You’re such a flatter” you sigh, yet he can see you hiding your smile in your arm.

You soon bring out a tray to him, which had a plate, a fork, an empty glass and a cute, pink piece of paper on top of it. You had obviously written on the paper - he could recognize your handwriting instantly in any context given - and really, it wasn’t even debatable since the paper read “Happy bday amor <3”.

He brought the paper up to his lips, leaving a soft peck on it before putting it on his nightstand. Was he dramatic with it? Yes, but he swears that when it comes to you he just can’t help himself but cherish everything you give him.

“Here you go, I hope you like it”.

You finally open the little box, reveling an adorable, tiny chocolate cake. It was simple: it was round, not more than 10 centimeters wide, and it feature a raspberry and two blueberries on top.

He licks his lips and dives into it immediately, not waiting for approval nor giving it any second thought. He chews on the cake with a satisfied hum, letting the sweet, but strong taste of chocolate invade his mouth. Again, it was really simple, but the fact that it came from you made it ten times more tasteful.

“Where did you buy this? It’s great” he says, searching for the label of the bakery on the tiny box you handed to him. Maybe later he could’ve bought some sweets for his guests there. He strangely couldn’t find it.

“Actually… I made it”.

Saying his mouth was agape would be an understatement, his jaw was on the floor.

“WHAT” he screams with his mouth still full. He did have the decency to swallow before screaming out again: “THERE’S NO WAY”.

He swears he could’ve died right there. Your shy smile and the light blush that paints your cheek enough to send his brain into override.

“Yeah, woke up early to make it today. I’m surprised you didn’t wake up sooner, I made quite the mess” you cackle to yourself, probably remembering all the ruckus you made whilst scratching your neck in embarrassment.

“Im surprised you liked it that much honestly” you trail off, insecurity dripping from your hushed tone.

Was it really though? Alex would eat anything you gave him if it followed a “I made it for you”. Yes, he was that whipped, and he isn’t ashamed of it. It always has been you, trough life and death, he knew from the moment he uttered the first “I love you” that you were his ride or die.

“You did amazing (Name)” he smiles, craning his neck just enough for you to share a sweet, short kiss.

“I can tell you worked hard for it, I’m proud of you” he whispers at mere centimeters from your face, like it’s something just for you to hear and hold dear onto. He leaves a peck on the corner of your mouth before sitting back again.

“I’m very glad you liked it” you say softly, giving him one of those genuine smiles he’d die for “BUT we got much more to do! It’s time to open your gifts!”.

You clap your hands excitedly, already scurrying off to put the tray away.

“What if I want to unwrap another type of gift” he taunts, moving his arms behind his head while wearing a sly grin. He kinda felt bad about making you do all the work, but he figures that maybe, just this once, he can let himself be babied a little.

You shake your head, looking at him with faux disappointment. Your hands found your hips as you scold him: “Cmon you horny bastard, we are going”.

“You called me a WHAT” he says in his typical high pitched voice, following after you. He catches up to you in an instant and wraps his arms around your frame, keeping you still.

“Say that again, i dare you” he threatens light heartedly.

“Nu uh”.

“Okay, you asked for it” he whispers in your ear, impossibly close.

The world went quiet. Your eyes widened.

You knew what was coming.

“No wait, we can talk ab-“

You weren’t fast enough to stop him. You signed your fate.

His hands move swiftly all around your body, wiggling his fingers on those he knew to be your weak spots. He laughs at you, laughs at your misery. Your body twitches uncontrollably and your lungs beg for air.

“S-STop FUGAHAH, oh my GOd- HAHAhH ALEX” you cry out, trashing around in his hold while he brought hell on earth on your poor body. He continues to laugh at your weak attempt to wiggle out of his grip, determined to make you regret calling him names.

“Nu uh”

Needless to say, you where among the few guests on Alex’s birthday stream, and you were also the one who had clean all of it up. Nonetheless, the afternoon was filled with laughter, a bit of alcohol, and carefree dances.

　　*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･'(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

extra:

Well cleaning up that mess was sure a challenge. You had to do 3 Tiktok browsing pauses before actually getting it done (to be honest, you did spend more time on your phone than cleaning, but you’re sure nobody will snitch on you).

Right as you put down the broom, you spot Alex coming towards you, the shit eating grin he was wearing giving away his intentions.

“Can I get my final gift now?” he speaks, using a gravelly tone that catches you off guard. It was hard to take him seriously when he still had some confettis stuck to his clothes, even though you’d be lying if you said you minded the offer.

“You moron” you laugh, instinctively wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Is that a yes?” He whispers, leaving a soft peck on the crook of your neck.

“Fuck yes”.

#quackity x reader #quackity imagine #quackity x y/n #quackity x you #quackity fanfic #qsmp x reader #birthday fic #GUYS I TRIED #im actually proud of this #speedrun it and it came out good like whaaat #nvm guys it took 6 hours #i’m so tired #not edited

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cuubism · 10 months

Note

I have been absolutely loving Bookstore Cryptid Dream! Offline life got rough for a bit there, but this little universe never failed to make my heart happy. Thank you - and I hope you're planning on more!

i've indeed had one in my drafts so i finished it up for you :)

Hob has been waiting with equal parts anticipation and trepidation to find out exactly what ideas Dream will pull from his romance novels. He still hasn't figured out why he picked romance novels as his manuals. Maybe he needs his sex positions to have narratives. Maybe he's into roleplay. God.

But Hob doesn't get to find out.

He's been busy for a few days--new term at the local uni starting up means the cafe's suddenly gotten busier--and while Dream's popped in and out a few times, they haven't had the chance to spend much time together. It's probably good, Hob tries to convince himself. Puts the brakes on things, just a little.

But when he finally gets a break, hands the reins over to his staff for an evening, he heads to The Library. Even if Dream is busy with his own tasks, Hob's content to just sit in his space. Listen to his stories. It's not something the busy cafe environment usually allows, but The Library is like an alternate world, cool, quiet, and timeless.

Hob strides up the steps and opens The Library door.

And there's nothing inside.

It takes several moments for his tired brain to comprehend what he's looking at, and several more for him to decide that no, he's not dreaming. He steps through the doorway into a dim, empty room, old wood-paneled walls and dust gathering in the corners, and no infinite winding paths of shelves like in Dream's bookshop. Just a shell.

Hob presses his palm to the wall. It's cool, and smooth, and very much real. Not some mad hallucination of his, this empty room.

Blinking hard, Hob steps back outside, closes the door again, as if that might change things. Opens it again. Same room. Does it again. Same room. He calls out into the empty bowels of the once-Library: "Dream!"

No answer, of course.

Hob had known that The Library had a sort of magic to it. But just vanishing into thin air...

And Dream wouldn't...

...would he?

Hob spins in place on the stoop, looking out on the darkened street which suddenly feels so much more eerie. He steps down to the road in a daze, looking around as if The Library might suddenly appear in another doorway. Resists the urge to yell Dream's name into the darkness.

And then, well, fuck it. "Dream!" he calls. All that echoes back to him is his own voice.

Hob sits down on the stoop, defeated. If he hadn't seen Dream just yesterday, kissed him on his way out of the cafe not twenty-four hours ago, he really might have started to think he'd hallucinated all of this. Invented someone he'd wanted to know.

But he didn't invent Dream, he swears he didn't--so then where is he?

Hob doesn't sleep much that night. He doesn't do much of anything else, either--it's not like Dream left a note to track him down, or any evidence of his existence. It's not like Hob can put up missing person posters: have you seen this bookshop? Or force it to reappear.

He's having a very sleep-deprived, very over-caffeinated morning shift in the cafe, contemplating how long one's not-quite-human not-quite-boyfriend needs to be not-quite-missing before it's reasonable to start finding out which parts of London harbor demons and sorcerers--when a man he's never seen before stops at the counter, hands folded before him, and says, "Excuse me, but do you know if there's a bookshop around here?"

Hob has never seen anyone else ever go into The Library or even acknowledge its existence, and Hob's anxiety is so high that he almost leaps over the counter to grab this man by the collar and demand, what do you know about Dream?! Fortunately he belays that impulse. This stranger really does look almost laughably harmless and definitely not like a demon or sorcerer, not that Hob's seen one--and getting arrested for assault is not going to help anything.

"I tried the door," continues the stranger, as Hob just keeps staring at him, conflicted, "only, well. It seems to have vanished."

Well, at least Hob's not hallucinating. Not that a disappearing bookstore is helpful to his sanity.

After what was surely a conspicuously long silence, though his visitor just waits patiently, Hob says, "Have... you been there before?" He feels weirdly defensive of The Library, even if it's currently AWOL. He doesn't know if he wants random people to be able to find Dream.

Or maybe that's just jealousy.

"Oh, no, this is my first time coming this way," says the man, apologetically. "I'm just looking for a certain book."

Damn odd timing for it.

Hob comes out from behind the counter and waves him over to a table. He should probably get some tea. Proper hospitality and all. But he's too worked up and way too sleep-deprived.

His guest sits down primly at the table as Hob slouches against the back of his own seat. "Sorry," Hob finally says, "if I'm--" he waves a vague hand. "Dream's had trouble before, that's all." He holds out his hand to his guest. "Hob."

The man shakes his hand. "Hm. A pleasure. I am Aziraphale. To any associate of--" he tastes the name, "Dream's, that is."

It's interesting that The Library's reputation carries further than knowledge of Dream himself, despite how deeply Dream seems to be tied to the shop.

"Is it meant to be there, then?" asks Aziraphale hopefully. "I wouldn't blame him for moving around to protect the collection; I certainly wouldn't want all and sundry picking through the shelves!" He shudders. "Though I was hoping to find that book."

Hob doesn't bother asking what book. Whatever it is, Dream will certainly have it. What's more important is--

"'Moving around?' Do you know how?" And then, realizing if he wants a chance at info he's going to need to offer some of his own, adds, "You just missed him, it's only today that The Library's been... gone."

"Oh, dear," says Aziraphale, now looking troubled.

"Not sure what pointed you towards this place, but if you've heard anything..." Hob continues, "Dream is my--" what is Dream, anyway? They haven't established it, "...friend."

Looking contemplative, Aziraphale says, "Well it is odd timing, now that you mention it, because--"

That's when the door to The Library flies open.

A lanky man comes hurtling down the steps, limbs akimbo, yelling something over his shoulder that Hob can't hear from within the cafe. "Oh dear," says Aziraphale again, with a mix of concern and consternation. "Crowley!"

Dream storms out of the doorway next, expression thunderous, his hair sticking up in all directions like he'd been struck by lightning. That has Hob lurching to his feet, which Aziraphale does as well, and they both rush outside, just in time to hear--

"Look, it's just one silly book, okay?" The unfamiliar man--Crowley, presumably--says, stopping in the middle of the road and turning towards Dream. "Don't overreact."

Dream is, in fact, clutching a singular heavy book, and looks like he's just about to hurl it, except that Dream would never do something so undignified as that, Hob thinks.

Dream hurls the book at Crowley.

Or not.

Crowley catches it against his chest, stumbling back with the weight. "I do not accept," spits Dream, each word the strike of a nail, "surreptitious rummaging in my library."

"Oh come on," says Crowley, tossing the book to Aziraphale, who's just caught up to him and who catches it with a surprised little umph! sound. Crowley makes a shooing sort of go on, run gesture to Aziraphale, which he doesn't heed. "It's not like I was going to burn the place down. You're just prejudiced against demons."

"I am prejudiced against thieves," hisses Dream. Hob finally reaches his side before he can throw another book or something, lays a hand on Dream's arm. Though all he's really thinking is, demons?!

"Crowley," Aziraphale admonishes. "Please tell me you did not." He finally looks at the cover of the book, and gasps. "Crowley."

Crowley shrugs. "You wanted it, he had it."

Hob frowns, confused. "You don't need to steal from The Library. It's not a museum. Just go in and buy it." Not that Hob's ever actually paid for any of Dream's books.

Both Crowley and Aziraphale turn to him. "One could not simply give away such an artifact," says Aziraphale, caressing the book's leatherbound cover.

"Least not for a steep price," says Crowley, which evidently justifies his trying to swipe it. "I won't be beholden to the likes of you." He points at Dream.

Dream looks affronted. "Now who is prejudiced?"

"Let's back up," Hob says, unsure how he became the voice of reason here. He still has a hand wrapped around Dream's arm, it's grounding after the way Dream had just vanished on him. "What happened? Dream-- I tried to come over and you were just gone." The empty room past The Library doorway is going to continue to be nightmare fuel.

Dream makes an apologetic little sound. "I apologize. I closed all access to The Library for its protection. As it turned out, my assessment of the threat was overstated." He glares at Crowley and adds, darkly, "I thought you were from the school board. Breaking in in the dead of night like so."

Hob momentarily gets stuck on the fact that Dream considers the local school board a greater threat than an actual demon from hell.

"Which," Dream continues, "was utterly unnecessary. You could have simply come to The Library as a visitor and sought out what you were looking for. It would have been granted."

"Oh, so I was just supposed to know you actually sell your books?"

"The books will find their rightful recipients," Dream says stiffly.

"Crowley, you have been very rude," says Aziraphale, though he hasn't given up the book, "I think you should apologize."

"Eh," says Crowley, waving this off. Hob supposes it wouldn't really be given to demons to apologize for things. "You apologize if you really want to."

Aziraphale turns to Dream with a sigh. "I am sorry for my companion's behavior. And... grateful for the book."

Dream nods solemnly at him. It seems his ire does not extend to Aziraphale.

Crowley leans back on his heels, closer to Aziraphale. "Mayyybee we should go now."

Aziraphale nods. "Quite." He tips his head at Dream, and then at Hob. "Thank you for your hospitality, Hob."

Then he turns and hurries away, Crowley slinking along beside him. As they leave, Hob hears Aziraphale admonish, "Do you know how few booksellers there are with truly rare volumes? We cannot afford to make such enemies."

"Yeah, you're welcome, angel."

"...Thank you."

Hob shakes his head in bemusement and turns back to Dream. He takes both of Dream's arms in his hands now, holding onto him, looking him over. Unable to fully vanish the lingering panic of The Library just being gone. "Are you alright? I was... worried. When you disappeared."

"I am annoyed," Dream huffs, like it's a greater point of suffering than any actual injury. Then he leans in close to Hob, pressing a hand to his chest. "I apologize. I did not intend to cause you distress. I had to shut the doors rather quickly, but I hoped to resolve the issue before you had cause to visit The Library."

"It's alright, love. I'm just glad you're okay." He kisses Dream, tentative for how new this all still is. Tastes lightning on his lips. Dream hums with pleasure.

When they pull apart, Hob wraps an arm around Dream's back, starts leading him back towards the cafe, or perhaps just to Hob's flat above. Tea solves everything. "So. The school board, eh?"

Dream sighs with the weight of the world on his shoulders. "They are enthusiastic about banning books."

Hob pulls him against his side, kisses his temple. "Dream against the world."

Dream grumbles, but leans his head on Hob's shoulder, and despite the many strange things of today Hob is going to have to internalize, he feels all soft inside at the gesture.

"Don't worry," he says, "next time your many enemies come calling, just yell and I'll create a diversion."

"And be waiting with tea after I've dealt with them?"

"Got it in one."

As they reach the door to the cafe, Dream turns his head to kiss Hob's shoulder. "You are good to me, Hob Gadling."

And Hob will keep being so. Even when the next strange thing happens.

#hob: yep. same shit as always #idk in what type school boards do or don't exist in the uk maybe that's just an american thing #also realized i never named Hob's cafe lol. i guess now it's just called The Cafe. like The Library #fitting for a man who named his tavern The New Inn #bookstore cryptid dream #my writing #dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #ask #lunaris1013 #good omens #crowley #aziraphale

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chronologicalerrors · 8 months

Text

Crowley, Angels and Free Will: More Good Omens Meta

I’ve been thinking a lot about Crowley in the Land of Uz recently. Particularly this scene:

A: Come on! You're a little bit on our side. C: Not even the littlest. A: Well, you're not on Hell's side. C: I go along with Hell as far as I can. A: So whose side are you on? C: My side.

Until this point, although Crowley has never seemed particularly ideologically aligned with the other demons of Hell, we could assume that Crowley’s fondness for life on Earth was a gradual process. He and Aziraphale have come to appreciate the lifestyle (cars and restaurants and music and wine and houseplants and coffee and various aspects of human invention) and the life they had amongst the people, and each came to vastly prefer it to a life in their respective Head Offices. But here, in Uz, we find out that Crowley realised this a very, very long time ago. He’s already discovered the joys of some human delights, particularly the wine. And just look at how knowing his face is here when Aziraphale first tastes food:

That's the face of someone who's been doing this for a while...

This story takes place in 2500 BC. Crowley’s been on Earth for 1500 years or so, only bumping into Aziraphale very occasionally. It’s not known how long Crowley’s only been going along with Hell, but the suggestion is that he’s always been this way. Playing the part of the demon, all while making his own choices. This incident with Job clearly wasn’t the first time he impeded Hell’s plans. He’s been playing his own game since leaving Eden, probably.

The implication here is that he was never really on board with Hell from the start. He was cast out of Heaven for asking too many questions, but never really took to the idea of ‘the other side’, or sides in general. He’s always been on his own side, coming up with his own ideas. The Metatron, who evidently knew Crowley when he was an angel, says as much in the final episode:

Metatron: Ah, well, always did want to go his own way. Always asking damn fool questions, too.

Ever since he was an angel, Crowley was going his own way. He never particularly bought was Lucifer was selling, he just wanted the freedom to decide things for himself. As Crowley says, he never meant to fall. Heaven just couldn’t accommodate an angel who didn’t follow the rules. Hell isn’t the right place for him either, though - and he knows it. Over the years 'my side' has become 'our side', but he's never really aligned himself with Heaven or Hell:

So what’s going on with Crowley and why has he never fit in with either side? For my money, it’s because Crowley has free will. Something angels and demons aren’t supposed to have. Aziraphale says as much in their discussion in Edinburgh in 1827:

A: Look, I am good. You, I'm afraid, are evil. But people get a choice.

But Crowley isn’t evil, and has seemingly never been that way. He’s been an angel with too many questions, and a demon who wouldn’t kill goats or fire guns. He’s always exercised a right to choose how he behaves, what actions he takes. He tries to stop Aziraphale calling his actions 'nice', but he does indeed often choose to do good, even though he's technically a demon. Crowley does things because that’s what he wants to do.

Aziraphale is developing this way too. Angels aren’t supposed to do what they want – they’re supposed to do what God wants. But with Job, Aziraphale does what he thinks is just, even though it's not what he was supposed to do, for the first time. That’s the poignancy of their final conversation in Uz:

A: But what am I? C: You're just an angel who goes along with Heaven as far as he can.

Crowley was an angel like this once too. Aziraphale hasn’t yet broken away from Heaven, though. He’s not quite ready to go his own way, be on their own side, make his own choices. To choose Crowley. He will choose this eventually, but it’s been a more gradual process for him.

Crowley, though. He’s been like this since he was an angel. Which means – was Crowley created with free will? Was he made this way?

God plays an ineffable game of her own devising, after all...

#crowley #good omens #good omens 2 #good omens spoilers #good omens theories #good omens theory #good omens meta #archangel crowley #sort of archangel crowley - this might explain why he's so different...#good omens feelings #aziraphale #free will #bildad the shuhite #go2

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burst-of-iridescent · 7 months

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Aang was indeed a bad father. It's way past time we stopped making excuses for him.

An all too common defense for Aang is the fact that he's a monk and is not well-versed in how parenting looks. Yeah! No shit! But do you know who is well-versed? Katara! They talk as if Aang is a single parent like Toph but he is not. Katara's been on Aang's side since the day they met, always stood up for him, always complimented him.

Is this really the thanks she gets? Are they really that disinterested in explaining Katara's side of the story? As if her not getting a statue wasn't insulting enough.

Another major flaw in this defense is that Aang is not just a monk. He's the avatar. This means, part of mastering all elements also means embodying all of the ideologies based on said elements. That includes elements/ideologies completely opposite of his own. His daughter's crack about Aang "cutting and running when things get tough" shows that he's learned absolutely nothing.

We never truly see him master all the elements, he just gets them and, more or less, calls it a day. I'm even beginning to doubt that he's truly mastered his default airbending and he just got his tattoos prematurely because the monks were impressed with his scooter invention.

Zuko got the privilege of understanding the ideologies of other nations, allowing him to grow, and unlearn any toxic masculinity lessons through them, and would blow a gasket if he ever saw a kid get mistreated by a parent in any way. Is it really any wonder why Zuko is the more popular character and the most requested choice for Katara, in comparison to Aang?

using the "but he was a monk!" argument to excuse aang's bad parenting is fucking baffling to me. even leaving aside that aang did have a father figure (or are we collectively ignoring monk gyatso?), i don't think you need to witness fatherhood in action to understand that showing preferential treatment to one of your children is a messed up thing to do. that seems like the kind of thing that should be common sense, especially when you're best friends with the guy who's walking proof of what happens when you play favourites with your kids.

truthfully, i also don't fully agree with katara being able to compensate for aang's supposed lack of knowledge. while i do believe katara was a good mother, and i don't think it was her responsibility to teach her own husband how to be a good parent, i have my doubts about how much, if ever, katara called aang out on his behaviour towards bumi and kya. if their relationship in atla was any indication, i suspect katara very much turned a blind eye (or at most tried to gently suggest that aang pay more attention to bumi and kya) to aang's flaws in this area, as she (unfortunately) does in most others. that's one of the reasons i was never able to get onboard with kat.aang, because katara is the only one of the gaang who is never able to meaningfully challenge aang, even when he desperately needs it. (the only time i recall her trying to push him to do something he doesn't want is in sozin's comet when the fate of the literal world depended upon it. not a good omen, methinks.)

the katara we knew in atla might not have idly sat by while aang favored his airbending child over the others, but the seeds for who she turns out to be in lok are already planted. it's not a stretch to see how katara's blind faith in aang, and her unwillingness to confront his flaws, could have easily led her down the path to the woman who would fail to stop her husband from neglecting two of their children.

it's no surprise that aang in lok is repeating all the same mistakes he did in atla, because his character arc came to a screeching halt at the start of book 3 and was never picked back up again. how are we meant to believe that aang ever became the avatar (yknow, the embodiment of all four nations in one) when he was still, at the very end of the show, prioritizing the values of one nation over the others?

truly the shocker of the century that people might prefer katara to be with a character who had a believable arc with well-written development and a satisfying conclusion, instead of the narrative equivalent of a brick wall.

#anti kataang #zutara #aang critical

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thebestofoneshots · 8 months

Text

Gilded Constellations | wolfstar x reader

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 8.5 K Warnings: none Prompt: The divination classroom becomes an intriguing nexus for forging new friendships amidst revelations laden with enigmatic symbolism. Meanwhile, Defense Against the Dark Arts delves even deeper into the shadows as you struggle to grasp the imminence of the ever-looming wаr. This IS a wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it.

Chapter 9: The Fairy Feller's Master-Stroкe

September 24, 1976 - Friday

Your race with Sirius, Marlene and a couple of other students who decided to tag along and prove their worth would be next week. The broom race was basically the talk of town. James had talked to the other Quidditch Team Captains, Lyonel Aldridge, Delilah Moss and of course Dmitri Volkov, and they all reached to the conclusion that it would be a great way to boost their team’s morale before the first match.

You woke up early like you had been doing the past couple of weeks, but you and Sirius had gotten a lot more competitive, so competitive you’d already gotten on James’ nerves. Which was something pretty hard to do when you were talking about quidditch. Every day you’d go on mini races, inventing new challenges to fulfill and you always pestered James regarding who’d gotten there first.

“My hand reached the line first,” Sirius said.

“Yeah, but it’s not about hands, it’s about brooms, my broom reached the halo first.” You argued back.

“It’s not about brooms, we said whoever gets there first, and clearly I did.”

“Sirius you can’t bend the rules so you win all the time! Besides, if I had stretched my hand I would’ve reached first so it doesn’t count.”

“It does because you didn’t!”

“James tell him!” You said.

“No James, tell her!”

James sighed exasperated and hit his head against the handle of his broom “Just fucк each other already,” he mumbled, not that either of you heard it.

“What?” You asked with a frown.

“You know what?" He snapped, sitting straight "Neither of you won! And your mini air races when practicing? They’re OVER! No more broom races until official race day and then you’ll admit the other is a faster flier and this bickering will be forgotten.”

“But James!” Both you and Sirius argued.

He gave you both a stern look, and you shot your mouth. “Fine then, till the race we’ll know.”

Sirius nodded “Truce?” He said offering you his hand. You took a deep breath and shook it.

Once you were back in the ground Sirius called you with a smirk “Hey (Y/N)! Bet I can get to the common room before you do.” He then started running.

“You wish,” you said running behind him.

James sighed again “We said no races!”

“You said no flying,” Sirius shouted back.

You then turned to James with a smile as you ran “He’s right, this is running.”

James rolled his eyes but took off running behind the two of you anyway. The only thing that sometimes shut the two of you up, was when someone else won, and he had the longest legs. In the end, he was indeed the first one to arrive, letting himself fall on the couch as you and Sirius fought your way inside.

“Prongs, you’re here?” You said out of breath when you saw him laying on the couch, regaining his own breath.

He frowned “Since when do you call me Prongs?” He asked amused.

“Oh… um… sorry, it must have slipped,” You said as you sat down “I blame Sirius for it.”

James laughed “No, it’s fine. You can call me Prongs.” He took a long breath, “But stop blaming Pads for everything.”

“In my defence. It really is ALWAYS Sirius’ fault.”

He made the face of a man that agreed with your statement. “James!” Sirius complained he noticed.

James grimaced in return “For fucкs sake, take me away from these two,” he said grabbing a pillow and placing it over his head dramatically.

You and Sirius exchanged a glance, yeah, you may be bickering all the time now, but it was all friendly banter, James was overreacting.

“Morning,” you heard Remus say as he came down the stairs “Just got here from practice?”

You nodded “And they’re getting on my nerves Moony,” James grumbled.

Remus raised an eyebrow at the two of you “We just asked him to decide who’d been the winner of our mini race,” you said innocently.

He nodded, understanding. “Leave poor James alone, he’s been doing so much to prepare your race that… he might actually be sick of quidditch by the end of it.”

James instantly reacted to Remus’ words, removing the pillow from his head “I would never!”

You were sweaty from so much running so you excused yourself and went for a short shower, Lily was preparing her backpack when you walked out of the bathroom, using your wand to dry your hair. “Today we’re picking the fluxweed together, right?” You asked her.

She nodded “Just wait for me, will you? We’ll walk to the greenhouse together, don’t think of going by yourself.”

“Of course, I’ll wait for you Lils, don’t worry about it,” you told her with a smile and finished both closing the buttons of your shirt, and shoving your stuff quickly in your bag "Ready for breakfast?"

Lily nodded and the two of you walked down to the common room together. The boys were secretly talking to each other on the corner close to the fire, looking all conspiratoriall as they did. "You coming for breakfast?" Lily asked them. Remus turned to look at her, his brown eyes seemed more golden than usual, you wondered if it was because of the lighting in the room.

"Yes, we’ll be down in a minute tho, we’re helping Peter finish his Divination essay.”

You raised an eyebrow at that statement. Since when did they help Peter with essays? Well, Remus definitely would help Peter, he’d probably help anyone that asked nicely. But the rest? Sirius? That was a bit sus, to say the least. But Lily was already walking out of the common room, so after giving them one more look, you followed her. Maybe they were planning another prank like the rain on the main hall.

Once you were downstairs, the two of you walked towards the great hall. Mary, Marlene, Beth and some others were already there, having breakfast. You greeted them all with a smile “Good morning!” You said as you sat down.

“Morning,” responded Mary as she looked up from her copy of The Daily Prophet.

“Anything new?” You asked her, nodding towards the paper.

She shook her head “Just the wаr,” she replied somberly “Apparently some deatheaters went on a кiling spree. They’re trying to get the muggle-borns.”

“An older lady was кiled,” Marlene continued “Marsha Allenty, she was a muggle-born auror.”

You shuddered at the thought. Muggle-borns first, half-borns next, it wouldn’t take them too long to destroy half the wizarding population if they kept going. Someone had to stop them. You were about to say something when the owls started coming in.

Your family owl, Barnaby, flew down, dropping a package in front of you. You looked at it. The (Y/LN) family seal was stamped over the elegant wrapping. It had to be from your mother. You opened the package, it contained several things. Some galleons, sweets from your favourite bakery back at home, which instantly told you they’d been travelling. A box filled with different potions, and some ingredients to brew shampoo and other beauty-related things. A special potions booklet and a small velvet box.

You opened it and there was a ring inside, a thin metal piece with some engravings on it and a gem at the top, held by 4 small pieces of metal, two shaped like a star and two shaped like a moon.

“What is it?” asked Beth, leaning into you from the side.

“A gift from my parents,” you responded, taking the reins out of the box to show it to her.

“It’s stunning,” she told you. “Do you know what that is?” She said pointing at the stone.

“Moonstone, isn’t it?” You asked, Beth nodded. “Mom cares a lot about the magical properties of stones,” you explained.

“And the metal is silver,” she said turning the ring around, taking a look at the little seal on the inside.

“Silver?” You frowned, taking a closer look “You’re right, that’s different. She’s never given me a silver piece before.”

“Maybe she thinks you’re old enough?” She asked with a shrug.

You nodded, but it wasn’t that. Your mom always gave you gold things. She said the protective value of it was a lot higher than any other metal. Even the necklace Sirius had given you in the vacation, made of brass, was turned into gold with a special spell she had, a spell that would leave all the magical properties of the item intact.

“Well, whatever the reason, she did pick a beautiful ring,” you said, finally sliding it through one of your fingers.

“Do you know what magic it’s got?”

You shook your head, looking through the box to see if your mom had written any kind of letter. You didn’t find any and shrugged it off “Maybe she just thought it was pretty…”

“What was pretty?” Asked Peter, who appeared almost out of nowhere along with the boys.

“(Y/N) was gifted a new ring,” said Mary before taking a bite from her eggs.

You raised your hand so Peter could see it “Got it on a package from my mom.”

“Moon and stars, eh?” He asked with a raised eyebrow “Interesting choice of symbolism, isn’t it?”

You looked at Peter and shrugged. He was right, it was an interesting choice of symbolism. Your mom, like you, had an affinity to divination. Maybe she knew something you didn’t “My mom loves that stuff,” you told him, and lowered your hand back to the table, taking your fork to dig into a sausage.

The boys sat further down on the table. Just close enough to still be able to talk to everyone already sitting there. You left early to go check on the fireworms. Remus and you had decided to split the days in which you had to feed them, and today was your turn. When you arrived at the tunnel entrance you looked around to make sure no one had followed you and entered as quickly as possible.

“Lumus,” You whispered, and your wand lit up, making the dark tunnel navigable. You looked through the pockets of your robe and found the scrap of parchment Remus had made for you. “Revelio,” you said as you moved your wand over it, revealing a tiny map of the tunnels. You were sure you’d learn the way soon enough, but for now, the little map was indispensable.

You used the map to navigate the tunnel until you arrived at the little nook in which you’d hidden your fireworms. You grabbed some of the food in your backpack and gently placed it on the food trays you’d created with a couple of pumpkin juice caps. You looked at the little fireworms satisfied when you noticed one of them was shining, like a firefly. But the light travelled from the end of the tail, all the way through his body and towards his head, then with a small little sound, almost like a fairy burp, the fireworm caused a small ball of fire to come from his mouth. You looked at it amazed, and quickly put the small fire out with your wand.

You grabbed your backpack and took out your charms book, trying to find a flames stopper or fire preventive spell as soon as possible. Soon enough you found something that could work and cast it all over the little fireworm habitat you and Remus had been building. After the spell was ready, you stayed for a couple of minutes to make sure they wouldn’t cause a fire that’d burn the entire castle down and once you were certain you let out a long sigh, not even realizing you’d been holding your breath.

You were thrilled, your fireworms were doing excellent, the way you and Remus had taken care of them allowed them to develop in less time than the standard, which would guarantee the two of you really good grades. You had to tell Remus about it. Maybe you could tell him in divination. Shiit, divination! You were supposed to be in divination. You ran out of the little nook and used the map to find a shortcut towards the divination tower. Once outside you knocked on the door a couple of times and waited. Professor Spellman opened the door, letting you inside with a displeased glance.

“I’m sorry for being late,” you mumbled as fast as possible. You walked inside and started walking towards Remus, who luckily, hadn’t been paired with anyone yet.

“Miss (Y/LN),” Professor Spellman called, you turned to him “You will be working with Sybil today,” he said, pointing towards the small Ravenclaw girl. You swallowed but nodded and walked towards her table. You knew who she was, Remus had told you about her, and her story, and you’d probably exchanged a couple of words with her in the past, but you’d never really talked to her.

“Hey,” you waved as you sat next to her, she waved back, with a small smile, and absentmindedly nudged her glasses back to their place. You looked at her for a minute, her hair might be messy, and you heard she wasn’t very popular, but she was very pretty non the less.

Professor Spellman started talking and with a flick of his wand opened some cabinets, floating a teapot in front of each table, Leaf reading. You and Sybil brew the tea together, using some of the herbs suggested by the book for more accurate readings. And started chatting to each other after you served your respective teas.

“Do you like divination?” She asked you.

“I… uh… not that much, I’ve had some experiences,” you stuttered.

“Sad readings?” She asked, with a sympathetic expression.

You nodded, taking a sip of your tea “It’s always negative stuff with me,” you explained “Accurate, but negative.” You shuddered, “What about you? With your legacy and all?”

“I don’t dislike it,” she told you with a smile, “I don’t like getting sad readings either but it’s fun to know bits of the future, for example, the other day I had these feeling that it was going to rain, so I put on some rain boots before going to Care for Magical Creatures, some Hufflepuffs and even other kids from my year were throwing looks at me, but when it started raining and everyone’s shoes got ruined, but mine didn’t, it was completely worth it.”

You smiled at her story “I don’t get those kinds of feelings,” you said “But it’s nice to meet someone that enjoys it, maybe you could help me enjoy it too.”

Eventually, you both finished your teas and exchanged teacups. You took a deep breath and eventually leaned over to look at her cup, hoping there would be something good in there. You exhaled when you saw a small little butterfly on the cup. Butterflies were good, they meant change, they meant personal growth, they meant… Images flashed through your eyes, and you breathed heavily a couple of times, trying to regain composure.

Sybil knew exactly what was going on, she’d been through it several times before too. So she looked at you with concern. “What did you see?” She asked in a steady tone.

“Nothing bad,” was the first thing you managed to muster, “just… you’ll give a prophecy soon. A very important one, I saw Professor Dumbledore, he seemed really interested in what you had to say.” She nodded at your words, writing everything you said down on a piece of paper, then you looked at her, placing a hand on her arm “Sybil, this prophecy… it looked like it was going to be dark,” you said “but it’s one of those that will change the world.”

She nodded, taking in all the information you’d given her. She did not doubt a single word you said. And you were glad she did, sometimes visions as such were hard to comprehend, and that’s if the person even cared for it.

“Are you ok?” She asked then.

You nodded “I– uh…” you looked at her tea “You will have a period of transformation and positive change, like the metamorphosis of a butterfly,” you told her, making an effort to read the rest of her tea leaves “You should, uh… embrace the opportunities that’ll come your way and also let yourself spread your wings.”

She laughed in response “That’s my fortune?” She asked motioning towards her tea cup.

“Yeah,” you nodded, sounding very certain about it “You must accept your uniqueness,” you added for good measure, after all, humor is one of the best ways to cope with such things “And me? What’s my destiny?”

She adjusted her glasses and took a peak at your cup “I see… stars, the moon, they’re surrounding something,” she said “A small animal, maybe a hare, or… a wildcat?”

You looked at her with a frown “Did you say the moon and stars?”

She nodded, tilting the cup towards you. And she was right, the moon was there, the stars too, and… the small animal? That was a fox. You took a deep breath and showed her the ring your mom had given you “My mom sent me this,” you told her “also moon and stars symbolism.”

Sybil raised an eyebrow “Does she have an affinity with divination?” She asked. You nodded in response “Then it must mean something…” she said, picking up her book and flipping through it “But I can’t find anything about the moon and stars in the book.”

“Interpret it,” Said Professor Spellman as he walked by, looking at Sybil with a stern face.

She nodded, sliding towards the back of the chair, Professor Spellman was imposing, to say the least. “I uh… I see the moon and the stars, they’re close, to a… it’s a–“

“It’s a fox,” you told her “The animal, it’s not a wild cat, it’s a fox.”

“A fox, right!” she agreed, “and I– are those flowers?” She asked looking deeper into the cup. By then your little interaction had piqued the attention of some other students from the class, they were watching the two of you intently. “I– I may be getting things twisted but… according to your cup, the moon and the star will find a blossoming love with…” she hesitated “with the fox.”

Everyone around the classroom laughed, but the professor raised a hand to quiet them, looking into the cup himself “Sybil’s reading is accurate.” He said, “Maybe (Y/N) has an idea what those symbols might mean?”

You sat straighter, looking at the professor “I seem to be surrounded by symbolism today,” you told him “But I’m sorry sir, I’ve got no idea what it may mean. Perhaps I’ll adopt a fox or something? Shower it with love and stuff,” You lied. While you may have not been able to understand the whole symbolism, there was one thing you knew for certain: you were the fox.

The Professor nodded, even if he didn’t look convinced, and moved towards someone else’s table. You exhaled, only then realizing you’d been holding your breath. “He can be very intimidating, right?” Sybil asked you.

You nodded “Definitely.” She looked like she wanted to tell you something else “What is it?” You asked her.

“Just.. be careful, yeah? The moon, it– it looks a little mennacing on your cup. Like… like it could be dangerous.”

You frowned “As in, maybe I shouldn’t go out tonight dangerous or…?”

“No, no,” she shook her head “I don’t know how to explain it, just… keep that in mind, will ya?”

You nodded, placing a hand on her arm to reassure her “And you’ll be a famous fortune teller soon,” you told her with a smile “How does that feel?”

She shrugged “I always expected to end up as one, I guess it’s nice to get a prediction of what you’ll be, makes it a little more certain.”

“And you trust my predictions?” You asked her with a shrug.

She nodded furiously “Of course I do! It’s not every day a fairy tells you your fortune.”

“I’m sorry?!” You asked her, shocked.

“I saw it in your cup,” she explained “I didn’t mean to pry, but it made sense… your divination affinity, your charm and magnetism, your talent while flying… You’re part fairy, aren’t you?”

You looked at her mortified, your parents had done so many things to keep that hidden and now Sybil just guessed it, “You can’t tell anyone,” you told her in a very serious tone.

She smiled at you “I wasn’t planning to, your secrets are safe with me.” You smiled at her after that, you trusted her.

Once the class was over you stood up, but she stayed in her seat “You don’t have another class?” You asked her politely.

She shook her head “I’ve got arithmancy next, I took it as an optative.”

You hummed in response “Have fun then,” You told her with a smile “I’ve got Magical Theory.”

“Good luck, I heard Professor Pendragon, can be very strict.”

“No worse than Spellman,” you whispered, so that the Professor in question, who was talking to some other students wouldn’t hear you. Sybil laughed and you finally pulled your backpack from your seat and started walking outside but you were stopped by Professor Spellman.

“Miss (Y/LN),” he said, and you walked closer to him “Be very careful tonight,” he warned, “there was something odd on your cup, and as you may know, today is Full Moon.”

You nodded “Thanks, Professor.” Clearly, he saw the same thing Sybil had seen, which was mildly disturbing, but alas, your day had to continue.

Once you were outside of the classroom you spotted the boys a few stairs down. Peter was walking with the girls, you assumed towards their Ancient Studies class, while James, Sirius and Remus walked together, they were walking towards the east wing, to Magical Theory, the class you shared. You had the intention to catch up with them, but they were looking as suspicious as they had looked earlier in the common room, talking in whispers to each other, heads so close they could easily bump together. You decided it was best to let them be, you’d been hanging out with them so much lately, they probably needed some space. So you slowed down your pace, just far enough so they could get their much-needed privacy.

Eventually, you reached the Magical Theory classroom, and when you arrived you found James waiting at the door, he quickly pulled you towards him and said “She’s gonna be my team.”

You looked at him with a shrug “Your team? for what?”

Remus, who was close by responded “The teacher said we’ll be working on a team project, Sirius and I are working together, so James was waiting to claim you as his team.”

“Besides, I really need your help,” James added.

You frowned, and asked, a little confused “With the project?”

“No, with Evans!” He whispered.

Realization down on you and you looked at Remus “He didn’t even ask you to be on his team, did he?”

He shook his head in response, mouthing a “nope.”

You laughed, “All right then, we’re a team,” you told James “You can ask me all you need when we–“ You cut yourself off “Wait, Remus! I’ve got to tell you something…”

“All right, if you gave your teams, please take a seat, class will start.” You heard the teacher say.

“Nevermind,” you told him as you turned back since James was pulling you into a table near the back “You’re not planning to pay much attention then?”

“Don’t scorn me like that,” he complained “We’ll pay attention, I just– really need your advice.”

"In this project, you will embark on a captivating journey to craft your very own magical artifact. Channel your imagination, drawing inspiration from the likes of invisibility cloaks and rememberalls, as you fashion an extraordinary creation of your own making," the teacher commenced, igniting a spark of curiosity among the class, even James, who had been mortified about Lily just minutes earlier was paying attention.

"Each artifact should possess a distinct purpose, serving its intended function with finesse. You will delve into the depths of your creativity, meticulously designing a blueprint that brings your vision to life. Fear not, for guidance shall be provided, I will walk with you every step of the way“ the teacher reassured, yet a chorus of playful groans filled the air in response to the mention of project design papers.

"Ah, I understand your sentiment," the teacher chuckled, acknowledging the students' apprehension. "But worry not! The journey shall be as enchanting as the destination itself. These project design papers will serve as a canvas to weave together the threads of your imagination, showcasing the brilliance of your creation. Embrace the opportunity to bring your ideas to fruition, weaving magic into the tangible realm. Who knows, you may be the next creators to hold the rights to an incredibly useful device that will sell millions.“ With these words, a wave of anticipation and excitement rippled through the classroom, as students began envisioning the magical artifacts they would soon breathe life into.

“Well, that’s an interesting project,” you said as you started writing down some ideas in your notebook.

“It’s brilliant, we could ask him to help us with the map!”

“What map?” You asked while raising an eyebrow.

“Oh… sorry,” he said “I thought for a minute that you– nevermind. You need to help me with Lily.” James had gotten so used to hanging around you and the boys at the same time for a moment he thought you already knew about the Marauders Map.

You sighed “Of course James. Tell me what happened,” you said, turning to him “but please write some ideas down as you do.”

He nodded, and started scribbling on his piece of paper “You see, since we kissed back at Marlene’s party–“

“–James that was a game, you can’t be hung up on that.” You interrupted.

“No, you don’t understand, there was a connection.”

You rolled your eyes, while you did think Lily maybe had a little bit of a crush on James, you also knew she wasn’t anywhere ready to admit it. Especially with James’ incessant flirting since like 4th year. Marlene had told you about it. “James, it sounds ridiculous. I kissed Remus then too, and I’m not hung up on it.”

He narrowed his eyes at that “but you seemed to enjoy it.”

You shrugged “Can’t say he’s a bad kisser.” And Remus is handsome, you thought “But that’s not the point anyway. What happened?”

“Lily seems more willing to talk to me lately,” he explained.

“Well, that’s lovely, just give her enough space so you don’t make her feel pressured. Be kind and nice… and stuff.”

“I was thinking of making this very grand gesture on the quidditch–“

You shook your head “James Potter,” you warned “If you so much as try something like that you will scare her away. She’s barely realizing she might like you, don’t do THAT!”

“What did you just say?”

“Don’t do it!” You insisted.

“No,” he shook his head, “before that.”

“I said that she’s barely realizing she might have a c… fuck.”

“You think… You think she likes me?” He asked, in a very small high pitched tone.

“I– wouldn’t go as far as to say that…” he looked so sad, “…yet.”

“Yet?” He asked, perking up as a surge of excitement ran through his body.

You nodded “I… think she’s warming up to you,” you told him sincerely “Just don’t do anything that could scare her away, please.”

“Like what?”

“Like a scary grand gesture for example.”

The professor walked toward you “Any ideas so far?” He said looking at James’ messy writing.

James nodded “A confetti cannon that, after using it, leaves confetti wherever you go,” he said, and read another idea “a pair of shoes that make the wearer constantly trip, a teapot that won’t stop whistling, even without any tea on it, and a buble liquid that makes ticklish bubbles.” He said proudly.

You stared dagger at him and covered his notes with your some parchment “It’s still a work in progress,” you told the teacher with the most charming smile you could muster, “James and I are still looking for better ideas.”

The professor nodded and kept walking around the classroom.

“Tripping shoes?” You asked in desbeilif “an ever whistling teapot? Are you for real–“

“–In my defence, I’m not great at multitasking.”

“No shiit Sherlock,” you told him.

“The tripping shoes could be funny tho.”

“Yeah, and the tickling bubbles are useful, for pranks, but Professor Pendragon wants us to invent the next invisibility cloak, I don’t think he’d be too satisfied with any of those options.”

“What about a ring that’s also an invisibility cloak?”

You rose your eyebrow at him “You mean like in the Lord of the Rings?”

“What’s the Lord of the Rings?”

You gasped, offended, you too had grown on a pure-blood wizard family but at least you knew the Lord of the Rings, “The hobbit?! Does not ring any bells?” He shook his head “It’s a very popular muggle book, you should really brush up on your muggle literature. Perhaps you should have taken muggle studies instead.”

“Hey!” He complained, “Don’t bash me for not being a literature genius like you and Remus.”

“I bet even Sirius would know about The Lord of the Rings.”

“How much?”

“10 sickles?” You asked.

“Oh, I’m really, really sure Sirius won’t know either,” James said “Make it 20.”

You rose your eyebrow at his challenge and nodded “Deal,” you said raising your hand to shake his, successfully closing the deal.

“So… the magical ring’s off the table?”

“No, I… I don’t think it’s a bad idea, maybe we can make a magical ring, just, with different powers instead.”

“Like…?”

You shrugged in response “We could make two rings that always find each other.”

“Ohhh, and I could give one to Lily!” James said excitedly, you threw him a look “Like… not now... When we start dating… obviously.”

“Love the confidence of that statement,” you said with a smile, thinking of how James had used when instead of if.

He winked “What about a bracelet that lets you communicate with someone else, like a… muggle telephone.”

“Or a walkie talkie…” you agreed.

“A what?” He asked.

“You’re joking, right?”

“I- uh… yeah,” he replied, not confidently at all.

“Damn it, James, you urgently need some muggle classes.” You said and started drawing a pair of walkie-talkies on the notebook, trying to explain their use, and how they worked, even if you weren’t entirely certain of how they did. “Can’t believe none of you thought it’d be useful to have some of them around. Especially for your pranks.”

“Yeah, me neither,” he agreed “You know smoke signals aren’t really the most effective.”

“Surely you didn’t try that,” You said confidently, his expression gave him away “You did?!?”

He shook his head, letting out a long sigh “We were in detention for days.”

You chuckled at that “At least you have the little paper planes now,” you said, remembering the day Remus had sent one to the boys, same day he took you to the lake because you were feeling upset.

“They’re useful, but they can be intercepted.” He explained, “Not very good for top secret plans.”

You laughed, of course, James would consider his prank plans worthy of the Top Secret title. “What about a bracelet?” You asked then.

“A magical bracelet? Sounds good, also with walkie-talkie abilities?”

“Could be more convenient than a ring…” you responded, “Not really sure about it tho."

“What about a pair of glasses that can help you see better in the dark?” He asked, “For those times where you can’t use lumos, maybe you lost your wand, or you wanna be inconspicuous.”

“Night vision googles, I dig it.”

“Exactly, but smaller, more practical to carry around.”

“Well, I guess we’ve got a few solid ideas then,” you said as you started picking up your things, you and James had stayed brainstorming together for a little longer than you realized “Class is over?”

James nodded “Moony and Pads left already,” he said as he looked towards the table your friends had been sitting on, “probably to the great hall, we said we’d eat together.”

“Peter too?” You asked him, he nodded.

“Wanna join us?”

You shrugged in response, “though you were planning a prank or something,” you said as you walked towards the door with him by your side.

He frowned “Why?”

“All the secretive talks? You’ve been awfully suspicious today.”

“What? No- that’s… it’s not. We’re not suspicious.”

You gave him an incredulous look but nodded “No, not at all,” you added sarcastically.

Once you were in the hall you spotted Remus and Sirius walking ahead of you and remembered you had to tell him about your fireworms so you picked up the pace. You walked behind him, for a minute, but he was so entertained in his conversation with Sirius you decided it’d be funny to tease him, so you extended your arms, and standing in your toes –because Remus was actually pretty tall– you decided to cover his eyes with your palms “Guess who–“ you started, but didn’t even get enough time to finish since Remus practically jumped out of your grasp in seconds, hissing as the silver of your new ring came into contact with his skin. It didn’t leave a mark but it did hurt him like hell.

Sirius, being quick to figure the new ring you wore had silver on it, looked at you with panic, but you didn’t notice, you were too concerned over Remus’ reaction. “I– I’m sorry Rem, didn’t mean to scare you…” you stammered “I… I was just trying to tease.” James and Sirius finally relaxed when they noticed you’d thought Remus was just scared.

“It’s ok…” he said with a forced smile as he extended his hand, a safe distance between your ring and himself “I wasn’t expecting you to come up from behind like that.”

You didn’t seem convinced but nodded, concern still evident on your face. “I uhh… I was trying to catch up to actually,” You finally changed the subject. James had gotten in between you and Remus as you walked, so you leaned a little towards the front to see your friend better “It’s about our fireworms, they’re already breathing fire.”

“What? I thought they wouldn’t do it until they were like a month old,” said Sirius.

“Exactly!” You nodded excitedly “They weren’t, our caring must have been phenomenal. Our babies are overachievers.”

“You’re keeping them together?” James asked.

You nodded “Co-parenting,” you paused “We split tasks and that way we make sure we don’t burn down the school by accident.”

Remus nodded in agreement “It’s easy to remember to feed them when it’s only a couple times a week instead of every single day.”

“And we found an excellent spot to keep them too, away from stress and anything that could make them nervous.”

“Well, the overachievers are not the worms,” Sirius said giving you and Remus a look.

James agreed “We just gave ours to Peter, in exchange for some other homework.”

“By the way (Y/N), mind taking care of them tomorrow too?” Remus asked politely.

“Sure thing,” you said, not thinking much of it.

You had your lunch with the boys, the girls and Peter joined you a bit later and you all walked to Defense Against the Dark Arts together. Professor Nightshade was elegantly leaning on her desk when you arrived at her classroom. She looked a little tense. Like she wasn’t too excited about the class to come.

Once most students were inside she shut the door with a wave of her wand “Today we will be going through the unforgivable curses.” She said, looking rather dejected “and while is not of my favourite classes to teach, we must delve into the subject, especially in dark times like these in which you might need to defend yourselves from one of them.”

The entire class was silent, everyone was paying attention to every single one of her words. It wasn’t uncommon to hear about the war, it was on the paper every single day, but most students chose to avoid and ignore the subject, so even if the war was going on, it was outside, Hogwarts was safe. But being confronted with it, so upfront, felt, well, it felt eerie and scary.

“Can someone name the unforgivable curses?” She asked.

Lily raised her hand “The кilling course, Imperius curse and…”

“The cruciatus curse,” Finished Sirius with a heavy breath.

“Correct!” Seraphina said, “10 points for Gryffindor… Indeed those are the three unforgivable curses, and they are unforgivable because…”

“Because they violate the rights of whoever is being cursed by them,” you responded.

“Can any of them be avoided?”

You shook your head “Only very experienced wizards can resist Imperio.”

“And countered?”

“Physical barriers might block some of the curses, but there is no known spell that can do such a thing.” Said Remus.

“No one has ever survived a кilling course either,” Imogen Potts added.

“Seems like you’ve been doing all the readings accordingly,” the teacher said satisfied “Now, you know the theory, but today we will have a small demonstration.” The students gasped, but Seraphina nodded heavily “You must know what you’re up against,” she pulled out a box and opened it, a butterfly flew out of it, about the size of your palm. Seraphina let the small insect fly freely for a minute before pointing her wand straight at her and whispering “Imperio.”

The butterfly started flying around, making circles around the class before landing on Marlene’s nose. She was sitting beside you, so you looked at her in awe as the butterfly batted its wings softly near her face. But then Seraphina changed the course, whispering “Cruicio.” The butterfly fell from Marlene’s nose and onto your table, right next to your book as it batted its wings helplessly. You looked at it with concern, Seraphina herself looked mortified as she inflicted pain on the small creature.

You gave her an imploring look, and that was all it took for her to stop. The small butterfly was released from the pain and started flying all around the classroom, desperately looking to get away from the place. Once the butterfly was close enough to her, she whispered the last curse and after a green flash came from her wand, the butterfly stopped flying, slowly falling to the ground, like a leaf from a tree.

The whole classroom was quiet. You stood up and carefully picked up the small butterfly from the floor. Looking at it pitifully as you handed it over to Seraphina, who held the box out for you to place it inside. “As you’ve seen, these curses are not only lethal but terrifying as well. There is a reason why, whoever dares to infringe them, will never be forgiven.”

“They will go to Azkaban,” whispered Peter.

“What a pitiful destiny,” agreed Sirius.

Professor Nightshade sighed heavily “I think this is enough for today, you may go.”

Students nodded and started placing their things into their backpacks. When you stood up, you walked towards her “I want to be in the duelling club.” You told her “I… I don’t want to end up like the butterfly.”

Seraphina looked at you, a sorrowful look in her eyes, she understood the implications of what you’d said. She knew how heavy your statement was. And she nodded “Of course darling, you’ll be a brilliant addition to the club.”

You nodded, satisfied and finally caught up with your friends. You went straight to Lily “At what time must we go get the fluxweed?” You asked.

“It’s supposed to be when the moon it’s at its highest point,” she told you “I checked the astronomy section of the paper in the morning, apparently at around 11:30 pm.”

“All right, we can totally hang out together till then, right? Do you have any plans?”

She shook her head “We had study club, but we cancelled it today, I was thinking of maybe going to the library to get some stuff and then studying or just chilling back at the common room.”

“It’s settled then,” you told her with a smile, walking alongside her towards the library. Since you had already finished most of your assignments you decided to walk through the long bookshelf to see if you found anything that caught your eye, while Lily looked for some more specific books. And as you walked over the edge of one of the bookshelves you bumped into Nina, the small Ravenclaw girl from the study grup that had a crush on Remus. “Hey love,” you said politely.

“Hi,” she replied quietly. To be fair, Nina really wanted to dislike you when she first encountered you. She was jealous of how close you and Remus had gotten in such a short period of time, but you had always treated her with kindness, genuinely willing to help her, if she had any questions, or needed help with a particular spell; that, in the end, she couldn’t help but like you instead. In fact, she’d go as far as to say she admired you. She’d seen you practicing spells and she even went to one of the quidditch trainings, with the intention to ogle at Remus who had gone too, but she was far too entranced by you when you were flying that she almost completely forgot about her original reason for going.

“You looking for Rem?” You asked her politely.

She shook her head “He cancels study sessions at least once every couple of weeks,” she told you “Originally, only Lily held the sessions by herself but she got very stressed without him to help her with the younger students, so they decided it was best to cancel them altogether.” Remus cancelled them? You thought, that’s odd. “What about you? Are you looking for a book in particular?”

You shook your head “Just something to entertain me while I hang out with Lily.”

“Oh, I think I can help you with that,” she said with a smile, bringing her backpack in front of her and opening the zipper “I actually got my hands on this book out last week, I read it in days, it’s about a werewolf who falls in love with a wizard.” she explained “It’s not very accurate with the actual nature of werewolves, but the key points are there. It’s a very fun romantic novel If you’re into that kind of stuff.” She said taking a book out of her bag and placing it on the table. “Oh and this one,” she grabbed a smaller book “It’s filled with simple yet practical spells that we don’t have in the curriculum, such as ways to fix glasses and open locks. It’s fantastic if you want something a bit more educational.”

You looked at her with a smile “These are fantastic Nina, thank you!” You said with genuine excitement.

She smiled at you, blushing just a little at your reaction “It’s nothing. I’m– I really like books,” she told you with a smile “If you ever need new recommendations, I’m down.”

You smiled at her “You’re the best!” You told her picking the books up from where she left them “It was lovely seeing you.”

She nodded, and was about to say something when Lily showed up, looking for you “I’ve got the books, ready to go?” She asked, and then noticed you weren’t alone “Oh, hey Nina! What’s up?”

“She lent me a couple of books,” you said, raising the books you held in between your arms so Lily would notice.

Lily nodded “Oh, Nina is really good at picking out books, trust me.” Lily said, “Mind if I take (Y/N) with me now?”

Nina shook her head “We were just doing some small talk.” She said, with a bit of a blush as both you and Lily waved your goodbyes.

As you walked outside the library Lily gave you a look “So… you’re friends with Nina now?”

You shrugged “She’s pretty nice actually. I don’t know when it happened, but she stopped hating me over Remus, and now she’s really kind, she even recommended books!”

“You probably just charmed her with your personality and looks, like you did with pretty much everyone,” Lily teased with a smile.

“Oi, shut up Evans, you’re probably more charming than I am,” you said nudging her in a friendly manner. She nudged you back and the two of you walked together towards the common room, chatting about your due assignments, and your favourite books. Since Lily was a muggle-born, she knew even more about muggle books than you, and it was fun hearing about all of them, from her favourites to those she didn’t like all that much.

Once you arrived at the common room you both found a comfortable place, she sat on the small round table by the stairs and you went straight for one of the couches, letting yourself comfortably lay on it while opening your backpack to pick one of the books Nina had recommended, you grabbed each on one hand, staring at the covers, trying to decide which one to go for first. After weighing both of them in your head, you decided to read the spell book and leave the romance novel on the side table.

Nina hadn’t been lying, the book was indeed practical, and you tried casting some of the most complicated or useful spells as you read, practicing the wand movements and incantations as Lily focused on her homework.

At some point Mary and Marlene went in, they were giggling about something that happened so you decided to leave your book next to the others and join their conversation.

“Oh my god, (Y/N)! You won’t believe what happened.” Mary said.

You smiled “Oh, do tell”

“We were talking to Moaning Myrtle, she said she overheard Holden talk about Marlene with some other boys, that she was an incredible beater and stuff.”

“Really?” You said smiling wider “I mean, no doubt, she’s amazing! But he said that?”

Mary nodded “According to Myrtle, that is… She also said some boys have been saying you’re part Veela because of your charm, be careful they may try and throw you into the water to see if you’re a good swimmer.”

You laughed at that, you were a good swimmer, but they couldn’t have been more off with their guesses. “So… what are you waiting for Mars? You have to make your move!”

“Make my move?” She gasped.

You nodded “Well, at the party you seemed pretty close, admit you like him or–”

“–Kiss him unexpectedly,” completed Mary.

“Yeah, that too.” You nodded.

“Well…” Marlene said taking a deep breath “I’m thinking I could– I wanted to invite him to Hogsmeade over the weekend, actually.”

“That’s brilliant!” You told her “Isn’t that tomorrow?”

She nodded in response “You coming too? I heard Sirius and James mention they wanted to show you around.”

“They haven’t told me anything about it, but I guess I’ll tag along with ya’ll anyway.”

At that point Lily stood up from her place and stretched, yawning softly “What time is it?”

“10:30,” answered Marlene after looking at her wrist watch “You done?”

She nodded “But we have to stay up for at least an hour,” Lily complained.

“Why?” Mary asked.

“We’re going to harvest some fluxweed,” you responded instead.

“Oh… because it’s full moon,” Marlene acknowledged.

You nodded “When are you getting yours?”

“Marlene ordered them from a fancy potion supply store.”

“That was allowed?” you asked, surprised.

Marlene shrugged “Not sure, but I highly doubt Slughorn will find out, if anything, we can say we picked them out with you.”

“Sure,” Lily said, sitting down on the sofa next to you, placing your feet on top offer lap to make some space. You made a move to bring your feet down but she shook her head “It’s alright, rest up, you’ve been awake since like 5 am, haven’t you?” You nodded, letting your feet on to lay over her lap “You should just tell James to screw off and sleep in, I can tell you’re not a morning person.”

You laughed “I wish, but I want to be in top shape for the game and… to be honest, I’m still getting used to my new broom, that’s why I’ve been flying every morning.” Out of nowhere, a pillow was thrown towards your face “Oi, what was that for?” You asked looking at Marlene, who’d been responsible for it.

“Show off,” she said “I need time to practice with my new broom,” she teased “and then she goes and flies like a professional every single damn time.” You opened your mouth to try to speak but closed it soon after, Marlene continued talking “James has been making the training even tougher so we keep up with her.”

“Sorry,” you said then “I guess I just really like flying.” After all, it’s in my blood, you thought. You wondered if you’d ever trust them enough to tell them about it, the answer was pretty simple, you already did, and you wanted to, but you knew how dangerous it was.

You stayed talking with the girls for a while, Marlene told you about the time she got on the quidditch team, Lily talked about being exceptionally good at potions and being invited to an exclusive party with Slughorn and Mary told you about the private classes she had been taking with Madam Pomfrey, about all the new potions and spells she had learned.

“It’s finally 11,” said Lily when Mars finished the story about the worst date she had gone on, she’d been invited to a magical restaurant, that had been jinxed by an angry customer the previous day, it had been absolute mayhem.

You stood up, stretching yourself “We should probably get going,” you said with a smile. She nodded and picked her backpack up, taking out a piece of paper and handing it over. You looked at her puzzled.

“It’s a nigh pass, I asked McGonagall for it,” she told you “We can go out and Filnch won’t say a thing.”

“Oh nice,” you said looking at the paper, boy, how easy would it be to make duplicates of it, with different dates. “Shall we?” You asked tilting your head towards the door. She nodded and the two of you walked towards the portrait of the fat lady.

“Good luck girls!” You heard Marlene shout from behind.

“Yeah, we’ll be back in the bedroom.”

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

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seat-safety-switch · 1 month

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There's nothing more honest than working on an old pickup truck. Unlike today's pickup trucks, old ones are basically just a chunk of steel bolted to an engine and an axle. Anything you can do to them is basically in the spirit of the original factory workers, even more so if you're drunk and/or high on things that aren't futuristic research chemicals. They hadn't invented those yet.

Now, you might also think that old pickup trucks are expensive. Sure, running and driving ones with all of their body panels have been enjoying a resurgence lately. With all the cool old luxury cars, muscle cars, shitty jeeps, and base-model commuter cars hoovered into the selfish grasp of exploitative capital, it's only a matter of time until they come for the humble, working man's pickup truck that was abandoned at the bottom of some farmer's field when the distributor finally exploded, now getting shot at periodically by his grandkids.

There's a lot of old trucks out there, because "old truck" used to mean "vehicle I grudgingly drove in order to accomplish actual work." The moment they stopped being reliable, they were gotten rid of, or relegated to chicken-coop duty. And, back in the day, there were more people who did actual work than there were folks who pushed spreadsheets around.

Supply is on your side: you can still get a deal. And if your standards are low enough, the range of "a deal" becomes very wide indeed. If you ask professional car restorers and collectors, they tell you to get the "best truck you can afford." That makes sense: if your goal is to end up with a working or at least semi-attractive truck, you'll spend less money and maybe fewer divorces starting with a 5/10 rather than a 3/10. Me, I'm not that picky. I'll take a 0.5/10. I'm all about the process.

All this is to explain why I just came home with a 1952 Mercury M100 pickup truck that consists mostly of the serial number plate and the rear axle (which is seized.) I figure I just need to sit on this thing for a few years longer, until prices really go nuts, and then I'll be able to sell it to someone whose business card says "Excel Astronaut" for the approximate price of a two-bedroom condo. And in the meantime, I'll have a cool project to work on that I don't have to worry too much about. If you help me get this chicken out of here, I'll cut you in on the deal.

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221bshrlocked · 1 year

Text

interesting indeed

Pairing: Tech x Fem!Reader

Words: 8901

Warnings: Tech wearing jeans. Female Masturbation. Tech watching reader masturbate so throw in a dash of accidental voyeurism. Consensual foreplay. Slightly rough manhandling, just like a little bit. Thigh riding because jeans! Dirty talk...or how I think Tech would sound if he were to talk you through riding him. Fingering. Squirting.

A/N: Not going to lie, this is a surprise even to me. Never thought I'd write for this cute nerd but I can't get over the fact that he's wearing jeans now so here you go. Also, this is totally in reference to this post because I wholeheartedly believe this is going to be a thing...if it isn't already. If Tech's character/vernacular doesn't seem right, do let me know how I can improve. Please and thank you.

No one was commenting on it, not that they should of course. They were all adapting to sudden and quite terrifying changes, and this was not on the list of important things that should be talked about. If none of them discussed the change of color in their armors, which was probably one of the last things still connecting them to Crosshair, this was definitely not going to make it to the evening chat. But it was still strange though, and you weren’t sure how to handle it.

It occurred to you after several rotations of simply being incapable of thinking of anything else why you were so hung up on it. On him.

He looked good, really good. You always found him attractive, more so than the others if you were being honest. But now that he was out of the confines of his armor and those rather tight blacks beneath the heavy protective gear, you couldn’t help yourself, groaning and swearing beneath your breath any time he so much as walked past you to fix something or discuss the mission details, again, with Hunter. His form was still hidden from your eyes, with parts of the armor still covering his torso from your hungry gaze, but you could see him clearly now, at least his lower half.

Sith hells, his thighs were more muscular than you thought, and each time he stretched to fix a part of the ship out of reach, or even shifted in his seat, the holsters wrapped tightly around his thighs would tug against the fabric of his jeans and show you just how meaty and thick they are.

Fuck, the jeans. That’s how you got into this current predicament. The day Tech started wearing those karking jeans was the day you cursed and thanked the maker for allowing such an invention to take place. He was tall, and you were always aware of how much shorter you were than him whenever he stood beside you or leaned down to show you whatever it was he wanted you to see on his holopad. You were so used to the plastoid armor that when you saw him walking out of his private room—eyes staring into the datapad, and hands clicking away as if he wasn’t wearing the most revealing fucking pair of pants to exist—you choked on your breath and had to walk away to avoid suspicion. Gods above, he somehow looked taller in those jeans than in his armor, and the knowledge that his slender form would now be available to your eyes all day every day made you sigh in irritation. It was already so difficult to attend to the tasks him and Echo handed you, and this just made it worse. So much worse. Then there was the matter of Echo and Hunter already teasing you about your little crush that everyone was aware of except him. It was enough as is, so you didn’t need to give them more ammo to use against you whenever he was around, even though he was oblivious to your longing gazes, and their irritating remarks.

Almost on queue, the man walks past you and leans over the bar to grab a drink for himself. Your eyes roam down his tall, slender yet muscular form, stopping to appreciate how perfectly the jeans fit around his ass. You shake your head at the sight of him. It was so unfair for him to look this delicious in such a simple article of clothing. Did his butt always look so round and plump? Or were the jeans giving him all those “assets”? So far gone in your inappropriate thoughts, you don’t notice Hunter pulling up a seat next to you and leaning a little forward to follow your line of sight until he speaks.

“Stare any harder and he might actually notice you checking him out this time.”

The rough sound of Hunter’s voice snaps you out of your haze and you flinch rather dramatically when the comment comes off louder than you’d like it to be, spilling half of your drink all over yourself and groaning in irritation when Hunter laughs at your obvious distress. You stand up and swipe across your shirt, only to run right into Tech as soon as you turn around to walk away from Hunter, in turn spilling both of your drinks over Tech’s armor and jeans. He hisses when the cold liquid runs down his clothes and you apologize profusely, grabbing both bottles and setting them down before looking for anything to hand him so he can dry himself.

You see Hunter from your periphery reaching out with something for you to take, and you narrow your eyes at him in warning as you snatch the towel from his hand and immediately pat down the sticky liquid on Tech’s armor.

“Did you know it takes approximately 12 hours for the smell of spotchka to come off of plastoid? Unfortunately, the same cannot be said regarding the stains, which I believe will take much longer to be removed.” You sigh in relief as soon as Tech does the usual and goes on with whatever knowledge he knows about the predicament at hand. When you glance at Hunter though, you find him smirking at you, and you hate the eyebrow he raises at you as he sips from his drink and watches your flustered reaction.

“I’m so sorry Tech, I was so distracted and- kriff,” you wipe at the chest armor to the best of your abilities, incapable of looking up at Tech out of fear of his reaction, or worse, your own. He swipes at the datapad several times, and you find it cute that he cares more about the technology on him than his attire, which he clearly stated would take a long time to thoroughly clean.

“It is in your best interest to constantly be aware of your surroundings, Y/N, regardless of distractions. Having said that, what could possibly be distracting here? Wrecker and Omega are quiet, which is rather alarming now that I think of it. Echo is reading, and Hunter is,” he stops checking the holopad and looks up at Hunter, roaming his eyes across his brother’s presence before returning his attention to the task at hand again, “well, he’s doing nothing.”

“I- I was just thinking that…umm,” you trip over your words, unsure of how you were supposed to respond. When he doesn’t bother to ask you to finish your response, you shake your head and continue wiping his armor.

“Funny you should mention your armor, Tech. She was just thinking about it.” Hunter says from behind you, making you turn around quickly and pout at him. He chuckles at your response, again, shrugging his shoulders at you when you mouth a few swears at him as you fiddle with the towel in your hand.

“Whyever would you be thinking of my armor?” The question catches you off guard, and you look at Tech with wide eyes, parting your lips to try and offer him some reply that would get him to ignore you again. Before you do, however, Hunter beats you to it and provides another, equally-irritating, suggestion towards Tech, one that instantly sends your heart rate through the roof and makes you wish you were in the comfort of your bed.

“Perhaps the lack thereof?” This time, you don’t bother looking at Hunter, knowing that he would only make things worse if you begged him to shut up again.

“We are not currently on a mission; naturally, there is no purpose for the remainder of the armor. However, now that we are no longer required to wear it all, I find myself more aware of the constraints it offered than before.” Tech gestures with his hand as he looks down at his form and presumably thinks of the several parts he was not currently wearing. You, on the other hand, can’t focus on anything, choosing to ignore everything he said except the word ‘constraints.’

“C-constraints?” You didn’t need to think of any type of constraints with relation to Tech, you really didn’t. But your mind decides to go off the rails, as it normally does whenever Tech is involved, and think of every naughty action the man can do to your body if he were to put you in constraints. Kriff, you would truly let him do anything he wanted with you, and you wouldn’t complain for a moment. You’d thank him for his attention, ask him what else he wanted to inflict upon you, and then beg him to put you out of your misery and do it already.

Tech’s response doesn’t come immediately, and when you finally make eye contact with him, you find him staring intently at you, eyes shifting from your tense jaws to your tight neck to the rise and fall of your chest as your breathing increases by the second. You turn away from him, fidgeting with the towel for another moment before getting on your knees to get the lower part of the armor on his chest. As you continue to clean the plastoid on his body, you can’t help but let your gaze roam a little lower, but you get back to focusing on the armor again, unsure of what you would do if Tech were to notice you openly ogling his crotch.

“Yes, there are several aspects of the Republic armor that hindered our movement. For example, it was difficult to remain seated for long periods of time. The plastoid dug into all the muscles of the body, thus making us more fatigued. Shoulder rotation was hindered at times due to the solidity of the back pieces, which, while advantageous during battle, were not useful on planets with more bodies of water, which required us to swim. Undoubtedly, the most unfortunate part of the armor was the codpiece. It made it near impossible for-” you were doing your best to focus on his ramblings, knowing that it would distract you from letting your mind run away with thoughts of touching him under more intimate circumstances. But as soon as he mentioned the codpiece, your brain went haywire and you started rubbing the damp spots on his inner thighs. Perhaps a part of you was aware of what you were doing, but you weren’t in-tune with the little bit of coherence still left in your neurons, already conjuring up the filthiest images involving yourself and the man above you.

“Kriff,” he swears beneath his breath, instantly looking away from Hunter to your kneeling body as you begin to touch closer to where the blood was rushing down his form.

“That will not be necessary, Y/N. I can- ahh,” he tries to stop you, he really does, but before he can reach out to your shoulders and grab your attention, your hand ascends up his thighs and makes a rather harsh pass across his crotch and the very visible tent in his jeans. Time stands still as soon as the sound of Tech’s moan hits your ears, and you widen your eyes in horror at what you’ve just done to him, in public, in front of his brother. You look up and notice a blush forming on his cheeks and neck, and you bite into your cheek when you see his hands shaking slightly while his chest expands rapidly with each short, harsh breath he takes.

“Oh maker, I- I didn’t mean to…I was paying attention and- I have to go.” You throw the towel on the table and run out of Cid’s parlor, ignoring Tech as he calls your name along with what you were sure were Mando’a curses.

“Mesh’la wait!” Tech takes two steps towards you before he notices that you won’t listen to him, and he throws his head down in defeat as he makes his way back to Hunter, who is now joined by Echo.

“Well that’s new,” Hunter comments, glancing at Echo with a grin on his face as he watches his brother fix his goggles and take the towel you were just holding.

“It was a slip of the tongue, I-” He knows neither of his brothers will buy the excuse, he doesn’t if he were being honest with himself, but he wants to avoid whatever conversation he was sure was about to commence.

“Hmm, sure it was. Bet you want to slip that tongue somewhere else.” Echo says, and if it weren’t for the fact that Tech was now thinking of every single twitch of your body language as you cleaned him up, he would have maybe decked him and walked away. But he was in no mood to fight, let alone argue with his brother.

“Grow up, Echo. This is hardly the time to be crass.” He looks up at the two men in front of him, only to drop the irritated expression when he notices them staring at him with disbelief and annoyance in their eyes.

“What?” He asks, grabbing the datapad from the table and shoving it back into his belt.

“Go after her you di’kut.” Echo growls, shaking his head as soon as Tech frowns at him and begins to tell him why he shouldn’t.

“She is clearly in distress, and I highly doubt the awkwardness of this moment will-”

“For kriff’s sake, Tech. Go. To. Her.” Hunter interrupts him before he can say anything else, and when Tech realizes that neither of them were planning on letting this go any time soon, he looks to the floor and shakes his head, grudgingly listening to them and heading out of the parlor.

“Fine.”

He almost reaches for the holopad as he walks to your place, but he stops himself before he turns it on, knowing that there was nothing on there that might help the situation now. He thinks back to what happened moments ago, recalling your reaction to the proximity between the both of you as well as Hunter’s responses. There was something missing in the whole ordeal, and if Tech didn’t know better, he’d think there was a meaning behind everything that was said. It’s moments like these that Tech understood he would have to read in between the lines, a task that he didn’t prefer attempting and was frankly not interested in. If you were dealing with a personal problem, one that you would rather share with Hunter than him, then Tech would respect that. Granted it made him uncomfortable, or perhaps annoyed was the right word here, but he wouldn’t dream of forcing you to tell him.

But maker if he wasn’t still interested in your behavior. There was a clear shift in your body language when he walked over to your table, little gestures that changed rapidly when you began cleaning his armor and as soon as Hunter shared his thoughts on your reasons behind being distracted.

Tech halts in his steps when he looks up and sees that he’s reached your place. He stares at the open windows and feels relieved when he sees that the lights are still on. Heading up the stairwell, he thinks over what he should say when you open the door. Should he mention the reason behind you leaving, or should he apologize for becoming erect when you were only trying to help? Should he tell you that he wasn’t bothered by your touch or should he explain why he was aroused to begin with? The last thought makes him stop in his tracks, and he meditates for a long while on why such an option would come forward in his mind to begin with.

“Hmm, that is rather interesting.” Tech comments out loud before he continues his ascent to your place, and once he reaches the door to your apartment, he knocks on it and waits for you to answer it. When you don’t make an appearance, he knocks once again, his nerves beginning to get to him. As the silence of the night fills the stairwell, Tech decides to push in the combination to your door, only to find that you had left it unlocked upon your arrival.

That is strange, you were always so careful on the Marauder. Surely you would be as careful when it came to your own home?

He walks in slowly and takes a quick look across the empty space, finding you nowhere in sight. Before he takes another step further, he hears the faint sound of your voice emitting from your room, whimpering and groaning as you cursed beneath your breath.

“Oh fuck…fuck, ahhh-”

Tech is on high alert instantly, and he takes his blaster out without thinking twice, slowly approaching your room as quietly as he can so he doesn’t alert the intruder clearly present in your bedroom.

“Please…just, I can’t. I- need to…”

He hears you again, but this time, you’re almost sobbing quietly, your voice muffled by an object being held to your mouth. Perhaps the intruder was asking about him and his brothers, or maybe, just maybe, you had managed to get yourself caught up with the wrong people. His heart is beating loudly against his chest, and he fears whatever might happen if he were to barge in there right this moment to try and save you.

“F-fuck…ah fuck, that’s- hmmm, please…so close.”

Taking the last few steps to your room, Tech inhales deeply, preparing himself for whatever may happen before looking through the slightly ajar door.

And then he stops breathing altogether.

There was no intruder in your room, there wasn’t anyone as a matter of fact. You were the only one in there, and from the looks of it, you were not struggling at all, but rather, enjoying the privacy of the moment.

Well, the privacy that was taken away from you now that he stood still at your doorway, incapable of turning away from the beautiful sight of your naked body as you touched yourself, face contorting between pain and pleasure the harder and faster you shoved your small fingers into your-

“Please, Tech…I need you. I need you so badly, just- oh maker, keep going…right there.”

If Tech wasn’t absolutely sure that your eyes were closed, that you were unaware of his presence, he would have thought you were asking him to join you. But you were both too far gone in ecstasy, with your eyes shut tightly the quicker your ministrations became, and completely ignorant to the standing figure at your doorway, with your face shoved into your pillows as you rolled your hips into your hand.

“That is interesting indeed.”

Never in his life did he ever speak without intending to. Granted, he often spoke when he didn’t have to, definitely when his opinion wasn’t sought out, but he never accidentally blurted out anything. So, when you scream at the top of your lungs and drag the covers across your skin, Tech flinches and nearly slams his head against the bedroom door.

He quickly pushes the blaster back into the holster on his belt before fixing his goggles, and for the first time since he can remember, he doesn’t know what to do.

“Tech what- what the fuck are you doing here?” He glances at you briefly and as much as he hates to admit it, the sight of your heaving chest and your damp skin shoots all blood flow in his system downwards. He was sporting a semi when you were wiping him, but after the show he just witnessed, he doesn’t bother looking down to know if his hardness is visible. He knows it is, and when he notices you looking down, he groans to himself and immediately places his hands in front of him to hide his erection.

“I- Hunter and Echo told me to find you.” An apology would be better, that Tech is sure of, but his mind is suddenly filled with the image of your desperate limbs and shaking muscles as you searched for release. And maker in heaven, he could not get the sight of you out of his mind’s eye, at all.

“What?”

“When you left, they suggested I come and find you. Technically, they swore at me and told me to speak with you. So…here I am.” Tech clears his throat, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as you continue to glare at him.

“Tech, I cannot stress this enough but what the actual fuck?” Your voice is growing in pitch, albeit a little hoarse from how harsh you were breathing moments ago, and Tech forgoes the apology and decides to ask you the obvious question.

“Is there something wrong with your hearing, Y/N? I will happily look into that for you, or perhaps-”

Well, what he thought was the obvious question in this case.

“Nothing is wrong with my hearing, genius. My question isn’t so you can repeat to me how your brothers fucking forced you into coming here when you didn’t want to. I’m asking about why you were standing there without announcing yourself…watching me while I- umm,” the rest of the sentence trails off, and Tech tilts his head to the side when your sudden outburst turns into nothing but an embarrassed shift of your fiery gaze away from him and towards your fingers.

You’re angry, that’s obvious enough for Tech to see. But he doesn’t understand what exactly is the source of your anger. Is it your misunderstanding that he didn’t want to seek you out, or that he was probably asking about something irrelevant to the situation at hand, or maybe it was because he was watching you without your consent? He sets all of that aside when you trip over your words and refuse to say what you were clearly doing.

“Matsturbate?” He finishes the rest of your thought for you, and frowns instantly when you yell at him again.

“YES!!”

“It is nothing to be ashamed of, Y/N. It is completely natural to seek release when under an extraneous amount of stress. As a matter of fact, the numerous endorphins secreted within the brain and the central nervous system upon climax tend to-”

“Oh my sweet god Tech, please…please, just stop.” The exhausted tone of your voice snaps him out of his haze, and he quiets down when he looks up and sees you rubbing your forehead a little harder than you should. Kriff, he really doesn’t know what to say right now, and as the silence grows between the two of you, it occurs to Tech that maybe he should cross the bridge of awkwardness himself and coax you out of our shell.

“I am confused. Not a moment ago, you were asking me to “keep going,” but now, you are requesting I stop?” It must be the right thing to say because that seems to get your attention rather quickly. Your eyes shoot to him not a second later, and Tech watches as understanding dawns on you, followed closely by shame, guilt, and embarrassment. Hmm, maybe this was the wrong thing to say then.

“You…how long have you been standing there?”

“Not too long, but I did hear my name once, hence the outburst that, I presume, led to your discomfort.” You say nothing, and Tech refuses to break eye contact with you, wanting to see how your body and facial expressions react to his words.

“I thought you had seen me, but your eyes were shut, making you completely oblivious to my presence. I- I was wondering, outloud as you know, why you could possibly call for me while you were masturbating but I-” His inner monologue is on his lips, the only way Tech knows how to process information that is shocking to him. He doesn’t mean to make you wince or shudder the longer he goes on, but as he stares at you now, with your naked thighs clenching tightly, and your lower lip pouting rather attractively to him, it finally hits him.

There was only one meaning behind your actions. And the shift in your body language earlier in the parlor. And all those times you thought he didn’t hear you groan as he walked by you or whispered something to yourself when he leaned down to fix something.

Oh.

“You were fantasizing about me.” It’s not a question, more of a comment really, a very crude, straightforward, conclusive comment. The thought of being the one to bring out such a need from you makes him twitch in his pants, and he tilts his head to the side again as he roams his eyes across whatever skin available for him to see, watching as you throw your head down and hide behind your palms.

“Ugh, fuck me.” You breathe out into the night air, shaking your head at the absurdity of this whole ordeal.

“I cannot see how that could help the predicament we find ourselves in. But…if you believe that is the solution to our problem, I will oblige, rather enthusiastically as a matter of fact.” The response comes instantly, making you look up with wide eyes at the man currently standing at your door.

“W-what?” You can’t help but ask, wanting to be sure that you heard him right, that this wasn’t another one of your fantasies where he breaks through the door and fucks you into kingdom come.

“Honestly, Y/N, there must be something wrong with your hearing if-”

“Tech.” You say his name once, urging him to stop for a moment and try to read your reaction to his words.

“I am not too sure what you are asking about at the moment. Are you asking me to repeat myself or explain my words?” He takes two steps closer to you, hands still covering his crotch from your sight out of fear of you misunderstanding him, or worse, making you feel even more uncomfortable.

“Explain please.” You request rather shyly, and if Tech wasn’t preoccupied with finding the right words to respond to you, he would comment on how beautiful and erotic the sound of your voice was to him right now.

“You just asked me to “fuck you,” rather vulgar if I may say so myself-”

“It was a form of expression…I- I didn’t ask you to…you know.”

“Semantics…regardless of how you intended those words, I said that I am unsure as to how that could help. However, seeing as you have yet to reach climax, the fault of which is mine, and I am more-than-willing to offer you my aid, I would happily follow your advice and do whatever it is you think would resolve our predicament.” He says matter-of-factly, and with each word he throws at you, you feel yourself growing wetter. His response is too technical to your liking, but something about the way he phrases those words, and how adamant he is on not minding one bit sleeping with you, makes you suddenly experience a similar sense of desperation to what you always feel whenever he’s around.

“Assuming you forgive my untimely and inappropriate intrusion… and consent, of course.” He adds as he takes another step and looks around the room briefly before returning his focus on you again.

“And you do?”

“Of course I do.” He furrows his eyebrows at you, and if you didn’t know better, you’d think he is close to calling you an idiot for asking such a question. It’s only a second later that you begin to understand why he’s behaving this way, or rather, answering you with such a direct response.

“Why?” You ask, wanting to make sure that he was saying what you think he was.

“Why do I consent to having sexual intercourse with you?” Tech asks, and you hate his need to repeat whatever question is asked of him, but you quickly remember that this situation was probably new to him, and his mind was returning to what is comfortable for him so he can process it thoroughly, and without misunderstanding.

“Yes.”

“Is it not obvious?”

“N-no. It isn’t.” You take a deep breath, reminding yourself that it was your return to meet him half-way.

“I am attracted to you, have been since we first met. You are exceptional in what you do, quite intelligent for a regular human…and y-you are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes upon.” His confession steals your breath away, and you stare at him in disbelief when your brain finally catches up with what he just revealed to you.

You want to say so much to him. You want to thank the maker for his blunt demeanor because he finally put you out of your misery. You want to jump and scream at finally knowing what he thinks of you. You want to ask him why he’s never made a move on you since he’s shared your level of attraction for perhaps as long as you have. But none of those wants make it to the surface, and you swallow the lump in your throat when you finally decide how you want to break the silence washing over you.

“Fuck me.”

“Is- is that a form of expression, or are you asking me to have sexual intercourse with you?” You’ve never heard him trip over his words this many times in one conversation before, let alone sound so reluctant when asking such a simple question. The thought of being the one who makes him nervous enough to stumble over such a simple question lights a deep heat in the pit of your stomach, and you don’t think over what you’re about to do, knowing you might backtrack quickly if the reality of your words and body language sets in.

Taking in a deep breath, you drop the covers from around your body and kick them aside, revealing your nudity to Tech in hopes of driving your message across without yet another misunderstanding.

“I am asking you to fuck me, Tech. Fuck me until I lose my voice. Fuck me until the only thing I can remember is your name. Fuck me until I can’t feel my legs from how hard you slam your thick cock into me. Fuck me until I feel you for days. Fuck me…until you cum so deep inside me that I feel you leaking out of me…and then fuck me some more.” You slowly get on your knees as you speak, lightly trailing your fingers across your breasts and down to your aching cunt, unable to hold back from smiling when you notice the blush adorning Tech’s cheeks move down to his neck. His hands are shaking lightly, and you crawl to the end of the bed without breaking his gaze, wanting him to see the depth of your hunger for him.

“I see,” you thought he’d say more, but it makes sense that he isn’t inclined to be more talkative now. You wait for him to take the lead, not wanting him to feel the need to please you at his own expense. When he takes those last few steps towards you, you can’t help but lean forward into his space, wanting to feel overwhelmed by the heat of his body and the natural musk of his scent. Tech finally removes his hands from his crotch, but you don’t look down immediately, afraid he’d be embarrassed by your shamelessness.

He stretches out his hand but stops midair, and you blink at him expectantly, unsure of why he wasn’t already touching you.

“Mesh’la, may I touch you?” His voice is softer, and you make a mental note to ask him later what that word meant. You’ve heard it from him when you were making your escape, thinking that he was swearing at you, but as he whispers it to you now, with his eyes silently begging you to allow him to be near you, and his hands fidgeting and itching to extend a little further to trail across your damp skin, you realize it might mean something completely different.

“Yes, please.”

As soon as he registers your response, he reaches out and cups your neck with one hand, slowly slithering his other arm around your waist and tugging you into his chest until there was no space in between the two of you. The cold of his plastoid makes you shiver, but you can’t find it in yourself to care, sighing his name with a whisper as he extends his fingers and rubs your lower lip with his thumb.

“You are a marvelous creature,” Tech coos into your ear, teasing you with soft kisses across your heated cheeks, until he reaches the corner of your mouth, “and it would be my absolute pleasure to, as you put it so eloquently, fuck you until you lose your voice.” You nearly throw your head back but Tech grasps your chin and tilts it back to his mouth, looking one last time at the ecstasy etched on your features before sealing the night with the most breathtaking kiss.

You’ve thought of this moment for so long, wondered how his lips would taste and feel against your own. You imagined him to be reluctant, unsure of what to do due to his lack of experience. But as Tech leans over you, once again reminding you of how much taller he is, you can’t really picture the kiss being different. He’s dominant, more so than you thought he’d be, swiping his fingers against the corner of your mouth until you part your lips for him. But he’s also gentle, a bit playful even, as he slips his tongue inside your mouth and gives you a taste of what you’ve begged him for.

You melt against him, fisting your hands into the fabric of his shirt as he deepens the kiss and takes control of your body. It must please him, the way you cling onto him for dear life as he continues to steal your breath away, because he groans deeply into the kiss and dips his fingers into the hair at the nape of your neck. You can’t help the pornographic moan that fills the space between you as soon as you feel him tug harshly on your hair, and you shut your eyes to enjoy the moment as Tech hums with satisfaction, immediately attacking your neck in hopes of ensuring he has your undivided attention.

“Ah Tech-” You moan as he spreads his hand across your lower back before digging his fingers into your skin.

“Tell me mesh’la, what were you thinking of when I rudely interrupted you?” You can hear the smirk in his question, and although you wish you can find the smugness irritating, you shiver at the tone of his voice and the touch of his hands as they grow more desperate and rough by the minute.

“I w-was thinking of…of you.” You barely manage to say, vaguely feeling one of your arms release from underneath his hold. You stretch your arm down and grasp onto the edge of his jeans, gasping lightly as he rolls his hips against your inner thighs and gives you a taste of what you’ve been craving ever since you laid eyes on him.

“I am well aware of that, sweet one. I want you to tell me the images your filthy mind conjured up as you touched yourself…with details if you please.” He pronounces the last word with a nip to your shoulder, making you shudder in response and try to grab onto his shoulder again so you don’t fall backwards.

“I pictured y-you coming after me…after I left the cantina, and- ah ffuck-” You scream out as soon as he lowers his hand and squeezes your ass once before holding onto your waist again.

“Focus.” He warns with a light pull to your hair, and you open your eyes for a moment to look down at him, almost sobbing when you see how far dilated his pupils are as he trails kisses and nips down your chest. Tech narrows his eyes at you, not caring for how overwhelming he might be making you feel as he wraps his lips around one nipple and sucks harshly on it.

“And pulling me into the alley, and- fuck please, I need to-”

“Do go on.” He orders again, this time with a little less patience in his tone. You want to know what he might do to you if you disobey him, but you figured he’d most likely wish to discuss your limits, and his own, before diving into that sort of relationship.

“I’m sorry…I- I imagined you slamming me against the wall, and pushing one of your thighs in between my legs, so I can- so you would…” You should have known he would fixate on parts of your body when he recognizes how sensitive you are, but you never imagined him to be so consistent in his handling of you. But here he was, promising you indescribable pleasure while holding off from actually pushing you over the edge.

“Hmm, I thought I noticed that earlier.” Tech raises his eyes to look at you, waiting until you meet his gaze before licking a stripe across your sternum. You try to grab his hair but he quickly grips your wrist tightly, twisting it slowly so he doesn’t hurt you as he brings it behind your back. He holds you against him then, expertly moving your body as he pleases so he can mark your skin with his lips.

“Please…I’m so- kriff, I need you. You don’t have to…”

“As gratifying as it is to know you do not require me to prepare you any further, I will have to disappoint.” There’s something about hearing him string a proper coherent sentence that drives you mad with lust, and you hate how easy it is for him to make a complete mess of you. But you say nothing, wanting to give yourself to the sensations he was bringing upon your body.

Then he lets go of you all of a sudden and steps away, leaving you dazed and confused as to why he stopped touching you and pulled from your body.

“Tech?”

“You must know by now that I seldom leave a job unfinished.” He claims matter-of-factly, fixing his goggles once before moving around your bed and standing near your pillow. He looks down at the state of your covers, then turns his attention to your damp, heaving chest as you try to gasp for air. Your confusion makes him twitch in his jeans, and he doesn’t bother to hide the shameless way he roams his gaze down your stomach to your wet folds. He stares at your thighs for longer than deemed appropriate, and hisses to himself as he fixes himself through the tight fabric of the jeans. You groan at the sight of him, gulping nervously when he leans down and removes his shoes, setting them aside neatly before doing the same with the heavy bag across his back.

You watch in silence, not knowing what you should say in return. You don’t really understand what he meant by those words, and before you can ask him why he was stretching this out longer than necessary, he moves across your bed and moves all the pillows aside, perching himself up against the headboard of the bed and stretching his legs out until they almost touch your thighs.

Tech doesn’t say anything else, and when you continue to remain immobile and silent, he raises a curious eyebrow at you before tapping his thighs twice.

“Well, would you rather stare at me all night long or come and take your pleasure from me?”

His question snaps you back to reality and you look down at his thighs when you notice his fingers tap quickly across his jeans, the mere sight of his impatience forcing you to move towards him.

“Come on, little one. The night is filled with hidden pleasures, ones desperate to be revealed.” You’re certain you’ve never heard his voice sound so lewd and inviting before, and as you crawl to him again, you can’t help but maintain your gaze on his legs, breath hitching suddenly when he parts his thighs to make space for you in between them. As you settle yourself against him, Tech reaches for your hips and pulls you against his chest.

“And here I thought the mere sight of me offering you what you desire would make you less shy.” He comments passively as you continue to keep your hands to yourself, something that clearly bothers him because within the blink of an eye, he’s putting your arms on his shoulders before slipping his hands down to take hold of your thighs. You call for him, a sound filled with surprise and desire, ones brought upon by the ease with which he continues to handle you.

You can’t look at him, afraid of how your body will react if you saw the way he was already staring at you. But as you settle on top of him, straddling his thighs much to his content, you decide to throw all your anxiety out the window. Leaning down, you hover your lips across his own, waiting until he gives you a sign that he wanted to kiss you as well. He smiles at you then, raising your chin up so he can take a better look at you. You blink once as you finally meet his eyes, and you’re amazed by how much brighter the brown around his pupils appears now. You’re not sure if they’ve always been this lovely color or if the circumstances were making them even more beautiful, but you meditate on them briefly as you close the last bit of space between the two of you.

Unlike the first kiss you shared with Tech, this one is much more controlled, softer and sweeter, allowing you a better chance to commit the feel of his lips to memory. He tilts his head as he deepens the kiss, making you sigh against him and open your mouth so you could swallow his moans in turn. His hands knead your hips, sending a jolt of pleasure down your spine until you begin to move atop him. As one of his arms moves across your back to apply the slightest of pressure against you so you can move even closer to him, you wrap your arms tightly around his neck and break the kiss, gasping for air dramatically as he moves you back and forth against the tent on his jeans.

“Fuck,” he swears against your neck, lightly nipping the skin of your jugular as grow more needy with your movement, rubbing your clit against the rough fabric of his jeans as you always imagined.

“You feel so good Tech,” you moan breathlessly at him, chasing your long-abandoned orgasm with a newfound desperation, hoping that he can bring you there faster than your own hands.

“This will not do,” Tech mutters to himself, once again pushing you around as he pleases until you’re only straddling one of his thighs. He brings you down harder on him, this time raising his thigh a little off the bed so you can ride him as you please.

“Oh maker, ff-fuck.” You throw your head back, body shaking with excitement as Tech takes over and moves you against him, flexing his thigh muscles to the best of his abilities as he pushes you hard and fast against the damp material of his jeans. He looks down and feels his heart skip a beat when he sees the clear, wet patch adorning his clothes, squeezing your skin even tightly to ensure that this was, in fact, real.

“I- I can understand why you would call me that, but it is only me, sweet one. If you will reach climax whilst using my thighs, I would greatly appreciate it if you were to call for me…as- kriff, as you promised.” Tech is aware of the way he continues to trip over his words, and he looks up in time to see you smirking at him. He knows exactly why you are smiling so teasingly, and he files the information for later, mostly so he could ensure to have a response ready if and when you decide to jokingly provoke him. He can tell there is something on the tip of your tongue, and before you can retort with probably humorous sentiment, he brings you back and forth harshly against his jeans, licking his lips as you offer him the desired response in return.

“Tech, I’m so close…please baby.”

He groans then, his breathing growing more erratic as you continue to beg him to ease the fire settling in your stomach. He never thought he’d appreciate a submissive partner, let alone whispered pet names during such a moment, but he hisses as you continue to say those few words, his cock pushing painfully against the fly of his jeans the faster you ride him.

Tech inhales deeply, the scent of your warm, wet cunt managing to distract him momentarily from the job at hand. He bites into his lower lip to regain some bit of control, and when he thinks he has a good grip on his desires, he wraps one arm around you before using his other hand to pull and push you against him.

“You are awfully close, my dear. Perhaps if I were to assist,” he doesn’t elaborate any further, and it’s not long before you feel his expert fingers reaching down and slithering their way in between your cunt and his thigh. As soon as you look down at him, Tech is sure he will never get the image of you out of his mind.

Glazed eyes. Wet lips. Flushed face.

“You are positively sinful.” He claims as he leans up and takes your lips in a mindblowing kiss, swallowing your moans with ease as he shoves two of his long, thick fingers past your wet folds and curls them inside your walls. Had he given you a chance to break the kiss, you’re sure you would have been screaming his name until all of Ord Mantell who was making you come undone.

But he doesn’t let go of you once, shoving his tongue into your mouth as he fucks you with his fingers while rubbing your clit with the palm of his hand. Your eyes are shut tightly, fingers digging into his neck as he shows you the stars with his tongue and his hand.

Tech remembers quickly what you promised him moments ago, and he does break the kiss then, wanting to hear you moan his name as he aided you through your orgasm. He tilts his head back to take a better look at you, and as he meets your eyes, he winks once at you before looking down to watch where he was disappearing inside of you.

“Tech, I’m-” You can’t finish the thought, the feeling of his fingers consistently hitting your tight walls pushing you over the edge and forcing you to melt against him.

“Come for me, Y/N.” He orders once, and if you had half a functioning brain cell, you would have asked him where he learned how to talk like that. But you don’t care enough, and you scream his name like a prayer as he continues to coax pleasure out of you. There is a vague sound filling the night air as he continues to finger-fuck you into another little high, and when you open your eyes and look at Tech, you find his own curious gaze zeroed in on where he was pleasuring you.

But just as you follow his line of sight, he begins to slow down to a stop, making you shudder on top of him now that your body was being offered some respite. It’s only when he breaks the silence and fixes his goggles that you realize what you’d just done.

“Fascinating!” He calls out as if it is the most normal comment to say after making you come the hardest you’ve ever experienced in your entire life. Tech doesn’t care to remove his fingers from you, and without a warning, he curls the tips of his two fingers once, watching with interest as your entire body jolts forward and your voice breaks in a rather pornographic moan.

“The actions your body performs in response to the stimuli I deliver to it are most impressive, mesh’la.” You shouldn’t be surprised by him, and it’s endearing how careful he becomes as he slips his fingers out of you while soothing your back with the other hand. Once again, you’re about to respond to him with something snarky about where his priorities are, but you don’t find the words when you see him hold his fingers up and stare at them.

“Interesting, I was well aware of how messy this act could be but I did not expect to be this-”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know I could…I know how much you dislike stains and-”

“You misunderstand me, cyar’ika. I was merely attempting to inform you of how much I thoroughly enjoyed you drenching my hands and my clothes.” Tech interrupts your thoughts from running away from you, and you stare at him with wide eyes as his words finally settle in your mind. You weren’t sure how to deal with this new bit of information, because the last thing you ever expected to hear was Tech telling you that he enjoyed you squirting on him. You can already feel your chest tighten as his confession reignites the need you have for him, which is made even worse not a moment later as he raises his fingers to his face and wraps his lips around them.

You forget how to breathe as Tech shuts his eyes and hums approvingly at what he’s tasting, the action and sound so lewd that you attempt to clench your thighs above him to relieve the growing pressure.

“I must admit, the taste of you does not compare to my imagination.” Had you not known the man beneath you for so long, you would have thought he was doing this on purpose. But you knew Tech, and you were sure he was only speaking his inner monologue out loud as he always does. Whatever is next on his lips is interrupted when he looks down and watches as you not-so-subtly try to touch yourself again.

“You are quite needy, aren’t you?” He takes his fingers out of his mouth and places his hand back on your body, roaming both his palms across your skin so he could feel the effect he was having on you.

“Tech…I need you.” You beg shamelessly, leaning into him in an attempt to rile him up with another kiss.

“I believe you sweetheart, but I do owe you an apology.” Tech nudges your nose with his own, smirking to himself when your expression changes into a pout and you furrow your eyebrows at him. He would tell you later that he absolutely adored the look on your face when you were confused, but he had another, more pressing matter at hand, and he did not want to drag this out any longer.

“You wished to use my thighs to orgasm, but I- well, I became greedy and used my hands instead.” He kisses the corner of your mouth once, barely managing to hold back from shoving you beneath him and taking what he wanted from you in return.

“Maker, I don’t care Tech…I just want you. I want you to fuck me, with your cock this time. Please, we can…we can do that later.” You reach down to his jeans, cupping him through the wet fabric in an attempt to get him to put you out of your misery and give you what you’ve longed for. But he’s much quicker than you, and he snaps his hand to your wrist immediately, dragging it away from his hard cock so he doesn’t get distracted by your touches.

“Humor me, mesh’la. I desperately want to know if you can reach climax with such a simple action. You have taken what you wanted, and now I ask for this in return.” You know, as well as him, that he’s only doing this to torture you, that he’s only using his interest in experiments to disguise such his perverse need to make you suffer.

“But I-”

“If you do, I promise to give you my cock. Even better, I promise to fill you up all night long, until you are no longer begging for release but respite.” Tech breaks your train of thought, and he smirks down at you when he sees the gears shifting in your mind at his proposition. He didn’t need to read your mind to know that you’ve already agreed to his terms, and with one last quick peck on your lips, he releases your hands and rests his back against the headboard once more.

You readjust on top of him, placing the palms of your hands on his chest to keep yourself up.

“There’s a good girl.”

#tech bad batch #tech tbb #tbb #the bad batch #tech the bad batch #tech x reader #tech smut #tech/reader #tech x reader smut #the bad batch smut #tbb smut #star wars #tech wearing jeans is making me feel some kind of way #jeans #the sluttiest thing a clone can wear is a pair of jeans #besides their fucking blacks beneath their underarmor #i digress

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