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allwaswell16 · 3 years

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{Recently Read 1D Fics}

July 2021

These are all the One Direction fics I read and enjoyed in July. There are 16 recs here in all and are in order by word count and organized by pairing. You can also listen to my podcast to hear me talk about each of these fics as well as an overview of what was posted on ao3 in July including the fics on this month’s fic roundup which you can find here! Please let the writers know if you liked the fics by leaving kudos and comments! Happy reading!

Fanfictional Podcast #27 | ko-fi | fic recs

-Larry-

playing by hands by @bottomlinsons

(M, 164k, sequel to adjudication, historical au, royal au, Prince Harry, Prince Louis, politics, war, violence, arranged marriage, political alliances, slow burn, angst with a happy ending, character injury, engagement, marriage, a new favorite, I'm still reeling from it, JUST READ IT)

this charade (was never going to last) by @scrunchyharry

(E, 68k, spy au, fake/pretend relationship, fake marriage, witness protection, enemies to lovers, major character injury, violence, crime, hurt/comfort, intrigue, hacker Harry, rescue mission, smut, this was a RIDE, such a page turner that I couldn't put it down!)

Hint: I want to be yours by bluegreenish / @greenblueish

(M, 11k, a/b/o, alpha Harry, omega Louis, Louis pov, fwb, painter Louis, physiotherapist Harry, pining, rut, smut, this was so much fun!)

Trust Me Tonight by 28sunflowers / @vintageumbroshirt

(E, 10k, royal au, King Louis, French Louis, Prince Harry, historical, Regency era, arranged marriage, sexual inexperience, first time, virgin Harry, mpreg Harry, smut, this was so sweet and lovely)

I'm Tripping Over Your Every Single Move by lookingfortherainbow / @andtheywerebandmates

(T, 6k, uni au, lifeguard Louis, swimmer Harry, pining, disaster gay Harry, embarrassing situations, meet cute, first date, kissing, no smut, humor, I was literally lol, I'm obsessed with this)

Hot Chocolate by @kingsofeverything

(E, 6k, butthole series, stand alone fic, meet cute, sculptor Louis, artist Louis, baker and chocolatier Harry, social media, Instagram, thirsty Harry, embarrassing situations, humor, masturbation, this (butt)crack fic was hilarious and genius and I loved it so much!)

tangled in self loathing by lightswoodmagic (sarah_writes) / @lightwoodsmagic

(NR, 2k, crime au, hitman Louis, angst, exes, gun violence, revenge, non descriptive smut, ambiguous/open ending, I'm still reeling from this one whew)

Sofa So Good by SunTomato / @sun-tomato

(G, 2k, moving in au, humor, meet cute, first meeting, omg this was so funny and cute and the banter was hilarious between ot5)

In the Shallows by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

(T, 2k, merman fic, merman Harry, human Louis, lake, water, enemies to lovers, surprised Louis, apologies, apologetic gestures, getting together, the worldbuilding was amazing and I adored this fic and this writer's brain)

take the time for you by pixies / @tomlinbuns

(G, 1k, speed dating au, meet cute, twist/surprises, ahh I loved how even though Niall isn't in the fic he plays a big role haha, just read this so you know what I'm talking about, this was so fun!)

If I Had It My Way... by @fallinglikethis

(T, 1k, swimming pool au, insecure Louis, pining, recent coming out, summer, hot weather, sun cream, touching, kissing, this made my heart flip over in my chest)

An Advanced Position by YesIsAWorld / @louandhazaf

(E, 1k, canon, established relationship, wall sex, sex positions, asking for help, practice, Harry and Louis are having trouble achieving wall sex and it's hilarious lol)

-Lilo-

Blow Me Away by LadyAJ_13 / @ladyaj-13

(E, 6k, Louis/Liam, canon compliant, established relationship, touring, hotel rooms, bus sex, communication, oral sex, anal sex, bl, sexual frustration, this was so good omg, very hot but also sweet at the same time, Louis doesn't know why Liam doesn't want a bj fic)

-Shiall-

Oh, Pretty Baby by abrighteryellow / @a-brighter-yellow

(G, 4k, Niall/Shawn Mendes, teacher Shawn, hot dad Niall, kid fic, crush, meet cute, flirting, omg so cute)

-Tomlinshaw-

I'mma Give You A Promotion by @lululawrence

(NR, 4k, Louis/Nick Grimshaw, canon, quarantine, work from home, secret relationship, determine the relationship, humor, radio, fluff, no smut, so charming and I love how they just fit together)

Use You As A Focal Point by Jiksa / @jiksax

(E, 2k, Louis/Nick Grimshaw, sequel to Use You As A Warning Sign, canon, sexuality crisis, internalized homophobia, angst, falling in love, oof I loved the first one and the second one hurts just as good)

#fic rec #trackinghome #1dsource #tracksintheam #trackinghappily #28th appreciation #larry fan fic #tomlinshaw fan fiction #lilo fan fic #shiall fan fic

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chaoslordjoe · 4 years

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Iceberg Week Day 3-Swim Lessons: Cannonball!

Author's note: The original version of this prompt, I wasn't happy with at all. Hence the sudden repost of anyone who recalls how I originally wrote it. That being said, I hope you enjoy this prompt if you are just now stumbling across it.

[Weiss sat at the rooftop pool at SDC’s Vale headquarters. Her one-piece was, you guessed it, ice blue adorned with a pink ribbon around the chest and a see-through sarong. Through her sunglasses, she was anxious for Neptune to show up already. Today was going to be some swimming lessons for him. Something that Weiss had planned on for a while.

Ruby hung with them, casually swimming and splashing with Zwei as Weiss couldn’t help but think about how she was going to help with her boyfriend’s lessons. The thought made her sigh. Yeah, he agreed to it. But at what cost would it be? Obviously, Weiss didn’t do it to make him uncomfortable or put him on the spot. But it wasn’t going to be an easy task.]

Ruby: *sits at the edge of the pool, cuddling Zwei* Weiss? Weiss.

Weiss: *looks at Ruby* Yeah.

Ruby: How much longer is Neptune gonna take? He's been in the locker room for hours.

Weiss: His hydrophobia isn't an easy thing to overcome, Ruby. Jokes aside about what happened at Vytal, we can't rush him into simply outgrowing his fears in a snap. I'm afraid it's not as simple as just learning how to properly face a Grimm on foot.

Ruby: *pets Zwei* I know. But it's been going on for so long at this point that I dunno if his Team can really focus on some missions near the water.

Weiss: Right. Hence why he asked me to teach him. I'm the one who took him to the side about it, after all.

[Ruby sat Zwei down on the surface. The corgi immediately shook himself dry and listened in on the girls' conversation, bobbing his head to the side at whoever was speaking.]

Ruby: Wait a minute, wait a minute. So Sun never talked to him about it?

Weiss: Well, he planned to- -

Ruby: Neither did Scarlett?

Weiss: Actually, he was gonna- -

Ruby: Sage?!

Weiss: RUBY! Could you please let me speak, dolt?!

Ruby: *inches back in the water* Sorry!

Weiss: No-no, that's alright. I…Kinda worded that wrong. See, the boys had debated it with Neptune after their clash with Team NDGO. But then when they moved to Vacuo after the Fall, there really wasn’t much room for swim lessons apart from the oasis they'd stop by to rest up. And since they were so high up in Mistral's mountain ranges, there wasn’t much time to discuss that, either. Especially with how they only came for farewells with how we had to get to Argus.

Ruby: *inches up* Wow, so he trusted you to teach him?

Weiss: Yes. Neptune asked me since there really wasn’t much room for the boys to teach him due to their own duties at Shade at the time. I figured we'd fly out to the company office to make this easier, as sort of a comparison to the fear of heights versus the fear of water.

Ruby: *smiles* Aww. Well, I think it was really sweet what you're doing for your boyfriend.

Weiss: Yes, he- -What?! Oh my gods, no! We are not dating right now!

Ruby: *smug look* Then why did you sneak photos of him and his teammates in the locker room one time?

Weiss: Shut up, that was Coco who took the photos and left them on my desk!

Ruby: *cat smile* Uh-huhhhhh~!

Weiss: Argh! If I had one of those Pyrrha dolls, I would throw it at your head.

Ruby: *frowns* Geez. Rub it in, why don't you.

[Just as the girls were about to resume their banter, the doors to the poolhouse opened revealing Neptune in a red speedo and a life vest. He wore water wings for good measure as he nervously smiled at the girls.

The vest, predictably, failed to hide his lean figure. If anything, his perfectly toned ass was on display more with the speedo. Neptune wasn't a Herculean titan like Jaune, Sage, Yatsuhashi, or the like. But his twink-like figure was more than enough to catch Weiss' attention, which sold quickly.]

Weiss: Oh…There you are! I figured you needed a moment to acclimate to the pool. (He's hot! He's hot! I completely forgot about this until now and he's so incredibly hot! It's gotta be a war crime to look this good!)

Neptune: You, uh…You ready to start, Weiss? *embarrassed grin*

Weiss: Y-Yeah, of course. Come here, let me help you into the water.

[Weiss offered Neptune her hand as Klein came by with refreshments for the three of them. The Schnee clan's butler wore a Hawaiian pattern shirt and shorts as he brought Ruby a cherry soda.]

Klein: Thirsty, Miss Rose?

Ruby: *takes soda* Yep. Thanks, Klein.

Klein: *bows* My pleasure, ma'am. I take it you are also enthralled with Mister Vasilias' body?

[Ruby got out of the pool, towling herself off as she sat in a chair with her soda.]

Ruby: That's not really my thing. But how often has this happened with Weiss?

Klein: Well, many boys have come to the pool with her in the past. Not in Atlas, but here. Predictably, they were interested in Weiss' money rather than her personality.

Ruby: *sips soda* I guess it's a first with Neptune, then.

Klein: Hmm. Indeed.

Neptune: *walks to the edge of the pool with Weiss, holding her hand* This is fine, this is fine…

Weiss: *smiles* It’ll be fine, Neptune. Just focus on me. We'll get this done together. How deep can you usually go?

Neptune: Huh?

Weiss: How deep in water can you go?

Neptune: W-Well, I can dip my feet in the water. But going beyond my ankle is where I start to panic.

Weiss: Just don't let go of me. Keep holding my hand, and we'll start with standing in the shallow end.

Neptune: Alright…

[Weiss stepped into the pool first, feeling her hand tightened by Neptune's thick grasp. She winced a little, but dipped her thighs in, gesturing Neptune to follow.

The intellectual hesitated, then nodded by dipping his ankles after his girlfriend went into the drink. He gasped a little. He then noticed that Weiss began stroking into the pool. A surge of panic went through him, diving in after her.]

Neptune: Weiss, hang on! *dives forward*

Weiss: What, Neptune- -?! *gets pounced by Neptune* GAH!

[Ruby raised her sunglasses, noticing them both falling in from Neptune's jump.]

Ruby: GUYS! *Petal Bursts into the pool, diving in after them*

Klein: Good heavens!

[As Ruby dived in after them, Klein made a beeline for the lifeguard post and grabbed the inner tube ring. Just as Ruby pulled out Weiss, she let go of Neptune who floated up, gasping for air as Ruby held up her partner.]

Weiss: Neptune? Neptune, can you hear me?!

Neptune: *shakes head* Hah! W-Weiss?

Weiss: *swims over to Neptune, hugging him* Yeah, it's me. What the hell got into you there?

Neptune: Um… *bites lip*

Weiss: Neptune. Please tell me what’s going through your head.

Neptune: I'm- - *hugs Weiss* I'm scared of the water because I shocked my friends when I was a kid.

Weiss: *looks up* What?

Neptune: Basically, my mom was taking us out for a swim after my dad was hospitalized at the time. My friends and I, we- -We were having fun for a while, but then my friend Scylla and I were hanging out by the car. I thought I saw mom drowning, but it was actually one of Scylla's relatives. I ran in, and, my mind went blank.

Klein: *frowns* Oh dear.

Ruby: How did you get out?

Neptune: Okay, I can basically cast static electricity. I can charge it over time, but I mostly can just shock my way out of some problems. It's not really lethal against Humanoids. This shock back then, though…Whew! Just as I was gonna black out, I zapped myself awake, then the whole pool lit up along with the other kids. I survived, but I was pretty much scared of water after that.

Weiss: What happened to them?

Neptune: Gods, I'm not even sure. But the last I heard when the police finally finished questioning us was that…That my friends were also hospitalized and homeschooled for a while. *lets go of Weiss* I've never been so embarrassed about one of my fears. I'm sorry, Weiss. This might not be a good day for lessons.

[Zwei gave a sad whimper, with Klein's “Bashful” personality kicking in at this sight. But Weiss wasn’t having any of his excuses today, and gave Neptune another hug from behind. Her chest sat against his rocky back. And she pillowed her head against the back of his neck.]

Weiss: Neptune. You have nothing to be sorry about. That was then, this is now. Besides, you admitted you trusted me to help you with this, right? So I'm gonna help you because I love you, and wanna help you through your pain. Don't EVER be afraid to ask for my help.

Neptune: But- -Alright. You're right, Weiss. I gotta stop worrying with you around. *takes Weiss' legs into piggyback position* Let's uh…Let's try again tomorrow. Water's getting a little cold.

[Weiss hugged him tighter, nuzzling the back of his neck and planting several kisses while brushing the side of her lengthy hair against his shaved spots.]

Weiss: Is this better, sweetie?

Neptune: *blushes* Well, uh… *smiles* Yeah, it is. *steps out of the pool, shedding water wings still carrying* Thanks, Weiss. I knew you'd listen.

Weiss: Of course, Neptune. Ruby, why don't we shower up and get lunch?

Ruby: *smirks, getting out of pool* You just don't wanna see Neptune all wet and naked right now, do you?

Weiss: *blushes* N-No! Not until we're married…Okay, maybe a little.

Klein: *switches to Doc personality, chuckling* Never a dull moment. I shall go retrieve your towels at once.

Weiss: *gets off of Neptune's back* Thank you, Klein. Could you please give Zwei a bath as well?

Ruby: He likes baths, just be sure to lure him in with some toys I brought.

Zwei: Ruff-ruff!

Klein: Certainly, Miss Rose!

[The heroes dispersed to wash up for the afternoon, before enjoying lunch together. Weiss wasn’t going to let Neptune's aquaphobia bring him down so easily, because nothing could stop a Schnee from achieving her goal with their SO. Such was the nature of Neptune and Weiss' relationship.]

#rwby #rwby shipping #rwby weiss #weiss schnee #rwby neptune #neptune vasilias #iceberg week #ship week #rwby ship week #shipping prompt #shipping

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lyricalt · 7 years

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[ovw] more beach stuff (3)

Rating: T Characters: light mcgenji, plus some surprises. Warning: alcohol mention, bad jokes Note: sometimes.. you want to write something... utterly pointless set to funky music.

Genji hears the makeshift ladder rattle first and then top of McCree’s bleach-blond head appears over the ledge. He’s about to make a smart comment about it, one out of several since the beginning of the mission, but McCree starts talking in numbers and coordinates so Genji turns back around to look out into the ocean, using his HUD to direct his gaze. There’s a third yacht coming in view, windows all tinted and a couple of people sunbathing on the deck. Genji’s HUD snaps a picture, though he isn’t equipped enough to offer anything more than a simple visual.

McCree joins him on the small rooftop, bare feet leaving wet footprints on the ridged tiles. Technically, the lifeguard tower’s rooftop isn’t made to be stood on, but that has never stopped Genji or McCree from climbing up for a better view before. McCree crouches low next to Genji, hair still dripping wet in it’s tie.

The roof slants at an upwards angle facing the ocean. It’s one of the many reasons why they have found it more preferable, being able to have some form of cover while they kept their eye on the yacht convoy at sea. McCree lowers himself on his stomach, shoulder pressing to Genji’s as he starts to adjust his sniper rifle setup.

The rooftop is a small space, but not that small. Genji humors McCree for a moment before he scoots to one side, reaching for the pack of supplies. “What do you need?”

“Get me one of them, uh, dust trackers. And a regular bead,” says McCree, putting his eye to the scope of the sniper rifle. He pauses, easing away for a moment, and blinks with a frown. The rifle is a standard issue, perfectly reliable, but McCree has been modifying it bit by bit on his own time.

Genji picks out the requested items, handing over a tracking bead and the smaller, more expensive cap of the dust tracker. He assumes McCree is still unsatisfied by the gun, but any more customizations and Genji thinks the rifle would just turn into another revolver.

“This shit’s too fiddly for me,” McCree mutters, peering through the scope again and lining his sights. He taps the tripod stand. “Haven’t done this stuff in ages.”

Genji gives him a pat on the shoulder, fingers trailing up to tuck a damp lock of bright yellow hair behind McCree’s ear. “Hm, I see. Would you rather I do it?”

McCree stops his scope measurements, head turning so fast he might have been in danger of spraining it. Genji gives him a leveled stare in return and then, with a smirk, McCree takes the specialized bullets from Genji’s palm. His hand slides further down Genji’s arm. He presses his mouth to Genji’s warmed metal wrist.

“Oh, sweetpea, we know you’ll fuck up the whole mission if you do,” McCree says kindly, and starts loading the rifle, tracking bead first.

“I thought you would say that.” Genji settles back, letting McCree do his work.

McCree’s first shot with the rifle goes unnoticed, timed to fire with the distant lighthouse horn. Genji follows the bullet with his cybernetic sight and a pair of binoculars. He sees the tracking bead stick to one of the antennas of the third yacht, high enough to be not be knocked by waves or seen when the boat is docked. Genji worries for a moment about the sound of the bead hitting against the metal rod, but McCree had caught the second the sail lines chimed over the metal poles, waving from the sea breeze. The ding! of the tracker matches perfectly with the ping! of the sail lines. Genji smiles from behind his mask but doesn’t say anything.

Instead, he pats the small of McCree’s back twice, signaling a confirmation. McCree breathes again.

It takes another minute to load the dust tracker and calculate the whatever variables McCree needs to adjust. As far as Genji understands, a dust tracker is a timed-loaded bullet, set to release a puff of particles to be inhaled. Ideally, it would track the location of the target who breathes it in for a day or two, depending on the amount inhaled.

The tricky part is, of course, firing the bullet in such a way that it releases beneath or near the person’s nose or on their clothes—without the target feeling it. Genji thinks it would be easier for him to simply run up to the person with the dust tracker and cup his hands over the target’s mouth himself, but they have orders to not engage and only observe. Winston had been very firm about it, and Genji supposes if he wants the quieter mission, he ought to obey.

McCree goes still for a very long while, eye to the scope and finger over the trigger. Genji almost gets bored of waiting, but he observes their target—one of the people sunbathing on the yacht deck with an impressively large fishbowl of margarita at their side, no doubt one of the leaders from the way they have been served upon by a duo of hovering omnics.

Genji doesn’t know what McCree is watching for. He can see the sweat trail down McCree’s neck, intermingled with the water from his hair. McCree shifts, lowering his head by just a fraction. A strand of hair falls across his forehead, almost like a line of sunlight cutting on his cheek. Genji wants to brush it aside, but McCree’s eyes narrow.

The target lifts their drink, putting the glass rim to their mouth.

McCree fires.

Genji sees the target wrinkle their nose, tongue flicking over their lips with a dissatisfied expression, but the drink only gets set aside as the target wipes their nose with a corner of their towel.

He gives McCree another two pats on the back. McCree exhales, putting his head to his forearm to rub the sweat from his brow. Genji snags the moment to brush back McCree’s hair, enjoying how the gentle pull makes McCree tip his head back.

“Well done,” he says.

McCree rolls on his back, mindful of the small pack around his waist. He unzips it for a celebratory cigar and Genji reaches over his stomach to pull out the lighter for him.

“Whew. I want whatever the guy in Yacht-1 was having,” McCree says, turning his head to the flickering flame in Genji’s hand.

“The whole bottle? Hah, I doubt-” Genji halts in mid-sentence as a text message blinks purple in his HUD. “TaKillYa,” he reads, too baffled to mention the line of heart emojis scrolling down his vision.

“Tequila?” McCree says, thoughtful. “Sure.” His cigar catches on the lighter. He inhales.

Genji glances past the mysterious text, almost missing the streak of fine glitter that plays over McCree’s face for less than half a second. His cybernetics slow it down, shows it like static in the air between them, though the smoke from McCree’s cigar obscures most of it. Someone starts to play music on the beach below, the bass vibrations at the perfect frequency to start buzzing faintly in Genji’s ear.

McCree’s pull from the cigar cuts short with a surprised choking noise. He coughs, rubbing his nose. “Ugh, that tasted funny.”

Genji sits up, alarmed. He fixes his gaze back to the ocean. “McCree.”

Sensing Genji’s urgent tone, McCree rushes his cigar and looks through the scope. “Movement. Yacht-2.”

Genji sees someone climbing on to the yacht deck, though an odd splash in the water below the boat catches his attention. He squints. “Someone’s coming out of the water. She’s… signaling?”

McCree swivels his rifle. He pauses. “She’s blowing us a kiss.”

A purple skull flashes in the middle of Genji’s HUD, but Wintson’s anti-hack program wipes the screen clean before it can start being a threat to his systems. Half of Genji’s network connections shut down as a precaution, though he swears the music coming from the beach is growing louder.

Genji steals the binoculars around McCree’s neck. His faceplate makes it awkward to use, but it is not nearly as awkward as seeing a very attractive women wave at him from the deck of Yacht-1, flower-patterned skirt fluttering in the ocean breeze while her own sniper rifle points at them. She has purple skin. He’s left wondering for a second how they had missed that.

Genji starts sliding down the roof, waiting a moment for McCree to fire off one last round before grabbing him by the swim trunks to drag him to the ground. He hears the return fire crack in the distance, and McCree’s sunhat flies off his head as they land hard on the sand.

McCree mutters something under his breath, scrambling to his feet.

“What?” Genji asks, tilting his head. A saxophone riff blares between his ears. He looks around him, trying to find which beachgoer is the one responsible for the loud noise. “I cannot hear you over the music.”

McCree is busy pulling up his shorts and taking out his revolver, but he spares a brief glance at Genji.

“What music?”

Maybe on any other mission, McCree would have had a huge laugh over Genji’s audio speakers getting hacked to play someone’s beach playlist. He hears the song leaking out from Genji’s helmet, too faint to catch the tune but loud enough to notice the rhythmic beat between the pauses of gunfire.

It doesn’t hinder Genji at all, thank god, but McCree would rather have Genji’s undivided attention while driving a jet ski across the rolling waves. The bounces over the water is suspiciously consistent and faster than what he feels necessary, despite the two of them chasing after two yachts.

He holds on tight, one arm circling around Genji’s shoulders and one leg around Genji’s waist. It’s the only way to stay on—there isn’t a less dignified position unless McCree wants to go flying off into the water. The sound of the jet ski’s motor changes in tone, and McCree knows Genji’s about to make a sharp turn. His hold tightens. He’s not much of a praying man—but he comes real close to asking for a few favors.

His revolver is disguised as a flare gun, a little bulkier than Peacekeeper, but it fire a steady round of bullets towards one of the yachts. He manages take Talon’s sniper off guard, shooting her rifle from her hands. The rifle goes clattering to the deck, sliding to the edge of the boat.

Genji spins the jet ski around, leaving a circular trail of bubbly white froth in their wake. McCree shoots the sniper rifle again, giving it one last push into the ocean. From the corner of his eye, he sees Widowmaker calmly disappear below the deck, sliding her sunglasses back over her head. His parting shot misses her shoulder by a hair.

McCree checks back his gun, bullet cases dropping into the water.

“Where’s the other one?” he asks and taps the side of Genji’s helmet when Genji fails to answer right away. It sounds like the song is at the chorus, and he’s willing to venture a guess that Genji is actually listening to it. He repeats in a louder voice, “Where’s Sombra?”

Genji points to the Yacht-3. The jet ski honks, which McCree hadn’t known it could do.

“I’m getting you on the boat. Prepare to jump,” Genji says.

McCree says, “What? Really?”

“I cannot hear you,” Genji replies, and it sounds like a damned lie. He speeds up towards the third yacht, one arm raising as shuriken fly from his hand.

The shuriken embed themselves into the hull of the yacht, cascading down in perfect footholds. McCree starts to very quickly calculate how far he would need to jump, but Genji speaks up.

“Those are in case I accidentally drop you,” he explains, still speeding.

The swell of the ocean lifts the jet ski higher and higher each time Genji rides over the rolling waves. Suddenly, McCree has a very good idea of what the cyborg is planning, and he doesn’t much like it.

“Genji,” he says, plaintive, “I don’t have my armor on.”

“I will catch you if you cannot land on your two feet.”

McCree already feels his bones and muscles aching against his will. He reloads. His leg slides from Genji’s waist, though it doesn’t stop him from giving Genji’s shin a sullen kick to stop his foot from tapping to the music. Genji leans forward, swerving into a cresting wave, just behind the yacht.

McCree presses his ear to Genji’s helmet. He hears the build up of the song, the cheery saxophone, and he is both impressed and annoyed that Genji has somehow timed the whole thing as they jump—tequila!

They fly into the air together, and McCree loosens his death grip from Genji’s shoulders. He lets himself hop off the jet ski before it thuds heavily on the deck of the yacht. Despite his timing, McCree lands off-balanced, unused to accounting for how the floor rolls beneath his feet. He lurches to the side, stumbling, but shoots at a shimmering blur near Genji.

The shimmering blur flickers, and the first thing that comes into view is Sombra’s grin before the rest of her appears, sitting behind Genji on the lopsided jet ski. Her arm slings comfortably around Genji’s shoulders.

“You like my summer playlist, friend?” she asks, wetsuit squeaking against Genji’s armor. Her snorkel hits Genji in the faceplate, to no real effect.

“It sucks,” Genji replies, trying to lean away without giving up his spot on the jet ski.

“No, I actually think he likes it,” McCree says, helpful, but he is ignored.

The jet ski slides back and forth on the deck as both Sombra and Genji try to knock each other off it. McCree is about to suggest the two of them both get off the damned thing for a better fight, but something glints in the distance from Yacht-1, and then he notices Yacht-1 is approaching them fast. McCree blinks, a part of him relieved that Widowmaker seems to have been unable to find another sniper rifle onboard her yacht, otherwise she would just shoot at them from a safe distance.

McCree aims his gun, trying to make out the slender cylinder in her hands. He pauses.

“Oh shit,” he says, backing away and trying to signal Genji.

And Widowmaker, in all her wedge-heeled glory, aims her harpoon gun.

“Genji, sword,” McCree calls out.

Genji’s reaction is immediate and unquestioning. He pulls his sword from its sheath, turning around to face Widowmaker.

He is just in time for the harpoon to spear him through his right shoulder. McCree hears a pained grunt from Genji and the wet sound of biotic parts tearing with metal. Genji whirls back around to glare at McCree.

“You thought,” Genji begins, incredulous despite his gasping. “You thought I would be able to deflect a harpoon?”

“Erm,” McCree says.

He doesn’t get to hear the rest of Genji’s angry yelling. Widowmaker reels Genji back, yanking him into the ocean like a reverse-caught fish. McCree hears a faint splash, but the cord connecting the harpoon to the gun grows taunt. He raises his gun and shoots at the line, fraying the woven threads. He figures Genji has enough blades on him to cut the rest.

“Alright Sombra, where’s-”

To his surprise, Sombra seems similarly annoyed by the whole ordeal. She ignores McCree walking towards her, yelling over her shoulder to Widowmaker. “Hey, what the hell? Watch it. You could’ve hit me!”

“As if that would be such a terrible loss!” Widowmaker shouts back, still trying to drag Genji out of the ocean.

Sombra revs the jet ski, not going anywhere fast. McCree wonders about her. He gets close enough to wrap his metal hand over one handle of the jet ski.

“Y’know… if you’re on the jet ski, and I’m getting on the jet ski—who’s driving the yacht?” he asks, curious, and points his gun at her.

Sombra rolls her eyes. Her palm glows purple. “I am, stupid. Right into that pier.”

She grabs his hand, fingers tapping over the metal skin quick enough to command a release. McCree’s grip in the jet ski loosens, but he’s too busy looking at the approaching pier to care. He runs across the deck towards the edge, because it’s nearly perfect—he can make a jump for the pier and regroup there, maybe call Winston for backup—

There is a man sitting on a motorcycle on the pier. The man’s got a cloak and a skull helmet and black smoke floating around his body. McCree blinks. What the goddamn shit.

The man on the motorcycle seems to be watching the whole thing, arms propped up on the handlebars in a relaxed slouch. He does a doubletake when he sees McCree.

“What the fuck? Really?” Reaper says, staring at him.

McCree lets the yacht crash into the pier, too stunned to even try figuring out what he had just seen. Sombra rides out the collision, letting the tipped yacht slide both her and the jet ski back into the water before taking off, engine sputtering happily away.

McCree rides out the crash as well, though with less grace than a man of his profession should have done. He flings himself off the yacht, where the water should have been, the last he checked, but his legs jar against something hideously solid. He groans, rolling to his side and feeling as if both his ankles have twisted under him. Some fool had thought to catch him in a motorboat.

A can of beer plunks down in front of him before he can draw his gun. It spews out a yellow beam of light.

McCree peers up at his savior. It’s an older man wearing the douchiest shades he has ever laid eyes on, with an apron that says ‘Raise the Steaks’. For a moment, McCree wonders if he had been the one shot with the harpoon, and if he’s been dying all this time and hallucinating through some kind of hellscape.

“Get up, McCree,” the older man orders, rough voice familiar enough to strike a chord. Soldier 76, without the usual tactical visor, it seems.

McCree stares. For some reason, the lower half of Soldier’s jaw isn’t as distinctive as McCree thought it would be.

“What are you doing here?” he asks and wants to finish with ‘—wearing that?’ But he knows he’s not in any position to criticize anyone, given his current attire.

“I’m the getaway,” Soldier 76 says, turning around to steer the boat away from the pier. They start to speed off. “And you’ve been bugged, son. Nice going.”

There’s a spice shaker strapped to Soldier’s arm. McCree looks at it, dubious. The air around him smells faintly like barbeque.

But before he can say anything else, something thuds against the front of the boat and McCree lurches to the backend. Groaning, he peers at the water, only seeing the leftover wake from the boat.

“Did we hit something?” he asks, very carefully, because he has a single guess on what it might be.

“Yeah, your boyfriend,” Soldier 76 says, confirming all of McCree’s suspicions. He slows the boat down. “Do you see—oh. There he is.”

The end of a harpoon pokes through the upper left side of the boat’s hull, the point just touching Soldier 76’s leg. Soldier 76 steps to the side, unbothered, though a drop of blood starts to well up on his shin.

Genji crawls onboard, using the embedded harpoon as a foothold. There’s an impressive hole in his chest, though the tail end of the harpoon cord still threads through the mechanical part of his body. He wobbles on his feet, pointing to the floor of the boat.

“Is that beer?” he demands after a long pause, sounding a little less coherent than normal, but he’s not exactly wrong either.

McCree tugs Genji to the ground, near the glowing beer can, which he finally can assume is a biotic emitter in disguise. He picks up the can and shoves it into Genji’s unresisting hands.

Genji looks down at it. McCree can picture him squinting at the label.

“...Did I lose a lot of blood?” Genji asks, unsure.

“Naw. Just a harpoon through your chest, sweet thing,” McCree reassures as Soldier 76 throws him another biotic emitter. It fizzes out foam when McCree pulls the tab.

“That’s actually real beer,” Soldier 76 says.

McCree snatches it back from the ground and takes a fortifying gulp. It’s cheap shit, but it doesn’t stop Genji from reaching over to grab McCree’s wrist and tip the can his way. He takes a smaller sip—or what McCree assumes would be a smaller sip, if it hadn’t dribbled down the front of his faceplate.

“It’s cheap shit,” Genji confirms, leaning heavily against McCree’s aching shoulder.

“Would you rather have tequila?” McCree asks.

Genji punches him.

#fic: beach series #overwatch #jesse mccree #genji shimada #mcgenji

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rescuesirens · 7 years

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Underwater photography workshop with Brenda Stumpf

From Jess:

Back in October, I had the opportunity to do something really special: wearing my beautiful silicone mermaid tail and top from Merbella Studios, I participated in an underwater modeling workshop with photographer Brenda Stumpf that was facilitated by professional mermaid performing company Sheroes Entertainment here in Los Angeles. It was amazing! The resulting images of me dressed as Rescue Siren Nim have the dreamiest, most ethereal look to them; they’re magical.

I’ve been photographed underwater a couple of times, but I still feel like a newbie; let me tell you, it’s something that takes practice! Imagine everything involved in normal modeling – striking a great pose, finding the right angle, making sure your hair isn’t doing something weird, and wearing a casual facial expression that doesn’t betray all the things on your mind – and then add a giant mermaid tailand an inability to see clearly (because mermaids don’t wear goggles). Oh, yeah, and you also can’t breathe. Whew! I still tend to wind up with “thinking face” as I mentally tick off all of those boxes, which, of course, isn’t usually what you want in a photograph.

Fortunately, Brenda has a ton of experience shooting models underwater, and she and Sheroes’ Catalina Mermaid made the entire workshop experience really easy and fun. When Chris and I arrived at the shooting venue, there was a rig set up in the delightfully heated pool that I could grab onto and hang from when I was above water – this allowed me to keep my tail still to avoid disturbing the fabric backdrop as I came up for air or chatted with Brenda and Catalina about our next shot before dropping back beneath the surface.

As you’ve probably guessed from the concept of “Rescue Sirens,” safety is something that’s very important to me; luckily, it’s important to Brenda and Sheroes Entertainment, too, and Catalina acted as a safety diver for the workshop. She watched me closely and kept a lifeguard tube handy in case I experienced any sort of difficulty, and, knowing the extent of her lifeguard and rescue training, I knew I was in good hands and could enjoy myself. As you can tell from these behind-the-scenes photos snapped by Chris, I was all smiles!

The ninety minutes I’d booked seemed to fly by, and I was sad to wiggle out of my tail and dry off because I’d had such a good time with Brenda and Catalina; I didn’t want it to end. Saying goodbye meant that I was closer to seeing the four final images that came with the workshop package, though, and I was thrilled when they arrived in my inbox about a month and a half later!

If you’re in the Los Angeles area, Sheroes Entertainment is facilitating another underwater modeling workshop with Brenda, coming up in May. There are currently only two spots left, so be sure to check it out if you’ve ever wanted to get incredible underwater pictures of yourself! (You don’t have to wear a mermaid tail, either, although fabric tails are available for the shoot if you’re so inclined.) Both Brenda and Mermaid Catalina are the very definition of professional, courteous, experienced, and responsible – and they’re friendly and fun, too! I’m already looking forward to the next time I get to work with them.

#rescue sirens #mermaids #brenda stumpf #sheroes entertainment #jessica steele-sanders #underwater photography

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apostleshop · 5 years

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From Good to Worse: When The Holy Spirit Called Me On The Carpet

Great News has been shared on https://apostleshop.com/from-good-to-worse-when-the-holy-spirit-called-me-on-the-carpet/

From Good to Worse: When The Holy Spirit Called Me On The Carpet

“What do you want for Christmas?” my husband asked. Actually, truth be told, he didn’t ask. I pushed. For at least the last five years, I’ve wanted new carpet for our staircase. It’s the first thing you see when walking through our front door.

The house is 29 years old. We are the third owners and we’ve lived here for 20 years. So the carpet has seen its days. It is a dingy beige shadow of the ghost of Christmas past. Way past.

“Well, if we’re going to do the stairs, we might as well replace the carpet in the upstairs bedroom, too.” Now, Rob did say that. I swear.

Yay! I was over the moon. That carpet had seen better days as well. Teenagers trod their dramatic footprints all over it. In addition, when we first lived in the house, before we enlarged the living space in an extensive remodel, we used that once loft-open room as our family/TV area. The beige was chosen to blend in the background, to be a neutral choice with furniture, painted walls, and the day-to-day homeyness that goes with family life. It was meant to last. But alas, it wore out and deteriorated like an old cup of coffee. Stale. No matter how much I vacuumed. Steam cleaning? Yeah, we’ve run that machine a few times.

So I went to Home Depot and picked out the most dramatic and ever-decadent-looking, “Dark Chocolate,” for the stairs. It’ll hide dirt. And now that I am the only one who climbs these steps, due to an empty nest, the rich brown, plush pile, should stay that way for a long time.

The upstairs bedroom has turned into a guest/craft room where I pray, play music, and paint jewelry boxes.

I decided to go beachy, with kind of a subdued seascape look. The name of the swatch is called, “Gravel Path.” I like songs about country roads and walks on the beach. It’s a short shag of loops, twists of soft gray and white. It reminds me of powdery sand on Wrightsville Beach, NC.

But the cost! Holy cannoli. $1,670.00. Ripping up the old and installation is free. Yay, me. Gulp. Rob gave in.

That gulp? I was swallowing that guilty gravel stone.

You know the feeling in the pit of your stomach? When you’ve gone so far in the process that you feel there is no turning back?

Well, the guys came to do the job, late the other day. They worked fast.

Before they came, I’d prayed a few Glory Be’s in honor of the Guardian Angels. I also played the Sorrowful Mysteries of the Rosary on YouTube on my phone while I washed the walls in the upstairs room. Dana, and her lilting Irish brogue, soothed my soul.

I greeted them politely. As they got to work, I became feverishly excited about the house looking nice for Christmas, when the kids would come home. I shared a live video on Instagram. I started on dinner, folded some laundry, and made myself a beet, celery, cucumber, carrot, apple, and ginger juice. Between the juicer, and ripping, scraping, and hauling of carpet, it was a beautiful noise. A happy raucous cacophony.

And then things started happening.

That’s when the carpet quite literally and figuratively unraveled.

I reached for a tub of coconut oil and picked it up by the lid. It crashed to the floor. A few pieces of plastic broke. The sound was worse than what could’ve happened. Even the carpet guys checked on me to see if I was ok. I cleaned it up and moved on. But then I heard a four-letter cuss word amidst Hispanic lingo.

The one guy who spoke no English went outside. I looked out the window to see him tending to a cut on his hand. A gash. He seemed humble and embarrassed. I asked if I could do anything and the other guy with better English asked, “You got any band-aids?”

I motioned for him to come inside.I grabbed my first-aid basket (blessedly, this was organized and stocked) and went into lifeguard mode.

I turned on the faucet and handed him a wad of paper towel. It needed compression. I grabbed gauze and made him read the Spanish directions that read, “Compresse.” We had to stop the bleeding. I grabbed some gloves after I washed my hands and wrapped the finger and taped it. He got back to work. I told his supervisor to translate, “Be careful. You work too fast. I’m sorry you cut your hand. You’ll need stitches. Please go to the doctor later.” He smiled and kept right on working. The bleeding stopped. I guess the guardian angels were also on lifeguard duty.

Then I thought, I need bleach to clean up. I grabbed a jug from underneath the sink, removed the cap, and in my clumsy haste, dropped it on the floor, too! I felt a splash in my eye. At once, I’m thinking, do I pick up the bleach that’s spilled all over the floor, or do I flush out my eye? I grabbed old towels and wiped up the bleach (concentrated, of course). Then I flushed my eye with water. Maybe that was also a guardian-angel wing deflection, because there was no irritation. Something went in my eye, but it wasn’t bleach. Maybe the cap dropped in the water, and the water splashed up? My jeans, boots, and my favorite St. Maximilian Kolbe hoodie were a spotted, bleached design now.

Holy cow. What happened? A situation that seemed so fun, so hopeful, just turned sour.

I retreated to the bathroom with a cup of cow’s milk to flush my eye. That’s an old swimmer trick for chlorinated eyes. I changed my clothes and prayed.

Because I easily startle, my husband knocked softly on the door.

I told him about the whole afternoon. The guys were still working. Rob went into calming husband lifeguard mode too. He went to the pharmacy and bought eye wash and bandages. Then he came back and talked with the guys and thanked them. He helped vacuum around the stairs. They left with a promise to go to the doctor.

As Rob and I ate dinner, we backtracked on the whole afternoon. Whew. Was I not supposed to get the stupid carpet?

I don’t know.

This isn’t an equal comparison, but what I thought about Mary, Our Blessed Mother. Did she wonder at the Angel Gabriel? Did she panic at the thought of Joseph’s reaction?

Did she question if she should say yes to the will of God?

Did she think once about herself when she hurriedly traveled to visit her cousin Elizabeth?

When the census required her and Joseph to trod to Bethlehem, through hill country, on a donkey, while nine months pregnant, did she hesitate?

Did she demand a plush, cushy hospital to deliver the Baby Jesus, the Savior, Messiah, of the world? Her Savior, her Messiah?

Her carpet was the smell of fresh hay. Yeah, that was her carpet.

And beyond.

Simeon’s prophecy.

“And a sword shall pierce your own soul, too.”

The flight into Egypt.

Poor Joseph. She must’ve thought, “My brave Joseph.”

I prayed some more. I begged God for mercy on the man who cut his hand. I asked that Jesus would show Himself to both men.

I thanked God through the whole ordeal. Because that’s what Scripture says to do.

“Rejoice always. Pray without ceasing. In all circumstances give thanks, for this is the will of God for you in Christ Jesus.” (1 Thessalonians 5: 16-18)

I guess you could say that at the beginning of Advent, the Holy Spirit called me on the carpet.

Though good went to worse, we know how it ends.

We know how it is still being revealed.

When we’re tempted by chocolate, coveting, and we reach for that luscious bite.

When we wander down treacherous, gravelly paths, unsure of our steps.

We grope in the dark, sometimes, looking for the Star.

And we follow.

We seek, like the Wise Men.

And we see …

God’s Glory.

God’s Victory.

God’s Love.

Knowing that it isn’t even half up to us. Everything we have, our joy, our suffering, and our mundane, is through God’s grace.

At the beginning of #Advent, the Holy Spirit called me on the carpet. -@susanswims8 Click To Tweet

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