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headhedgehog · 4 months

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Cherry wine

When he remembered that winter, Kunigami Rensuke tasted cherries.

Bright and floral as spring, bittersweet and fleeting as summer. The unmistakable, incongruous flavor of Chigiri Hyoma’s attention.

He landed in Munich the day after Manshine’s season ended, his pink hair half-up and his carry-on packed within an inch of its life. It hit the floor when Chigiri fell into Kunigami’s arms, was ignored as its owner buried his face in the crook of Kunigami’s neck.

“I missed you so much,” he breathed into Kunigami’s ear.

“I missed you too.”

—-----------------------------------------

Hyoma had never been in Kunigami’s home in Germany. Blue Lock and Wild Card left Kunigami hollow and struggling to connect with anyone, let alone the boy who spent the entirety of the first and second selections hunting for places they could be alone together. When they’d gone off with their respective teams, Kunigami assumed their relationship was over.

Until he got a birthday card, care of the Bastard Munchen front office.

Happy birthday, Hero. Call me? Followed by a phone number.

Had he gotten that card three weeks earlier, he would’ve thrown it in the trash. He was still haunted by the look on Chigiri’s face when they parted for the last time. Chigiri tried to hug him, but Kunigami stepped back, left Chigiri to shove his hands in his pockets.

“Bye, Hero,” Chigiri had muttered. His eyes were the only hint that he was wounded by the rejection.

“Bye, Chigiri.” Not Princess, as Chigiri’s friends affectionately called him. Not Hyoma, as he’d been in Kunigami’s arms. Chigiri. Formal, cold.

Final.

But Kunigami’s arrival in Germany – and his merciful separation from Ego – felt like a new chapter. As he learned to navigate Munich and got roped into outings with teammates, Kunigami noticed flashes of his old self. He blushed when a teammate complimented a pass he made; he remembered to ask about Noa’s sick mother.

And then his older sister started calling him. She didn’t seem to care that Kunigami barely responded to her, let alone ask her anything. Instead, she called every few days and talked at him about their younger sister, their parents, the neighbor’s new dog, her graduate program. He surprised himself by not hanging up, surprised himself even more by calling her first after two weeks.

So, when he flopped onto his bed the night after receiving Chigiri’s note, it felt reasonable to dial the number provided.

“Kunigami?”

Chigiri’s voice broke something loose in Kunigami’s chest. He cleared his throat in a vain attempt to mask his emotions.

“Thank you for the card.”

There was a pause. “You’re welcome. I hope you enjoyed your birthday.”

The cool formality made Kunigami feel worse. “I wasn’t expecting you to reach out. After…everything.”

“I missed you.”

Chigiri said it like he was discussing the weather. Tears Kunigami couldn’t account for rolled down his cheeks, quiet sobs filling the silence between them.

“Are you crying? Kunigami, I’m sorry, if I’d thought it would upset you I wouldn’t have sent the card –”

“I missed you too,” Kunigami choked out. “I’m so sorry for the way I treated you, Chigiri. You didn’t deserve that. I – Wild Card was a mistake. I shouldn’t have stayed there, not if it hurt you –”

“What happened, Kunigami? What did they do to you?”

Kunigami sighed and began from the moment Chigiri was stolen by Isagi’s team in the second selection. When the sun rose the next morning, Kunigami woke up to find that they’d never hung up. Chigiri’s soft snores were audible through the phone; when Kunigami ended the call his chest ached with a longing he no longer had words to describe.

The calls became nightly occurrences without discussion; texts throughout the day became constant. Kunigami felt his phone buzz in his pocket and knew immediately who it was, smiled preemptively.

Bzzt. This you? [1 attachment: photo of a golden retriever]

Bzzt. I swear if Nagi falls asleep on my gym bag one more time I will strangle him

Bzzt. Can we eat dinner on video call tonight? I’m lonely.

They never openly flirted, never hinted that they were interested in anything beyond romance. Not that Kunigami wasn’t interested – Chigiri made him feel alive in a way he hadn’t since he was eliminated from Blue Lock. He admired Chigiri’s constant reading and his nuanced thoughts on the books he finished, even if Kunigami never had much to contribute to those conversations. He loved Chigiri’s ability to make anything into an amusing story, his beautiful laugh and the way his nose wrinkled when he smiled.

No, Kunigami wasn’t so far gone that he couldn’t recognize his crush on Chigiri. But reading others’ feelings was still difficult for him. He only hoped he wasn’t pushing Chigiri away.

And then Bastard Munchen and Manshine City played each other in the UCL.

Kunigami and Chigiri were both starters for the game, and it took everything Kunigami had not to stop and watch Chigiri run. He was more beautiful than Kunigami remembered, a pink blur against the walls of the pitch. Kunigami wanted nothing more than to fall into step with him, to guard him so he could run forever.

When Kunigami got to the locker room after the game, there was already a text from Chigiri waiting on his phone.

“Dinner?”

If asked, Kunigami wouldn’t be able to recall a single detail from the meal. They went somewhere one of Chigiri’s teammates suggested; they talked too much to eat more than a few bites of their food. Kunigami paid the check; Chigiri led the way back to his hotel room.

They didn’t hold hands as they walked. Kunigami desperately wanted to, longed to feel Chigiri’s delicate fingers laced with his own, but the idea of Chigiri pulling away hurt worse than the wanting. The hotel room had a couch, and they sat at opposite ends, the conversation from dinner ongoing.

At some point they moved to sit next to each other. Testing the waters, Kunigami rested his arm over the back of the couch and felt the purest relief of his life when Chigiri cuddled into his side.

When morning came, Kunigami woke up on the couch with Chigiri asleep on his chest. They kissed when they parted. For the rest of the day, Kunigami searched for the taste of Chigiri on his lips.

Their texts and calls became more explicitly romantic after that, but even so Kunigami couldn’t bring himself to ask how Chigiri understood their relationship. But when the season came to a close and Chigiri floated the idea of visiting him in Germany, Kunigami said yes without a second thought.

If he’d set up the guest room, just in case, that was no one’s business but his own.

—----------------------------------------------------

They spent the first evening in Kunigami’s kitchen, cooking and standing closer to one another than strictly necessary. The overstuffed carry-on remained near the front door, nagging that they hadn’t discussed where Chigiri would sleep.

“Kunigami,” Chigiri said when they finally settled in to watch a movie, half-cuddled together under a blanket. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Did I scare you that morning after the tournament? With the kiss?”

Kunigami blinked. “What do you mean?”

“You practically ran away. I know you had to leave, but –”

“I have thought about that kiss every day.”

Chigiri leaned away for a moment, considered Kunigami. Tentatively, he pushed the blanket off his legs and brought his hand to Kunigami’s cheek.

The kiss was better than the one in the hotel, better than any they’d shared at Blue Lock. Chigiri was warm and smelled like home. The soft touch of his lips broke something in Kunigami; in a moment his arms were around the smaller man’s body, his fingers tangled in pink hair, his tongue in Chigiri’s mouth. Chigiri moaned into the kiss and climbed into Kunigami’s lap.

“Should we go to the bedroom?” Chigiri panted after a moment. He was a vision, his lips kiss-red and hair tousled, his eyes hooded and shiny.

In reply, Kunigami stood, his hands under Chigiri’s thighs, and carried him down the hall.

—-----------------------------------------------

They slept late into the morning, tangled up in the sheets. Kunigami woke first, Chigiri’s hair in his mouth. He removed it and rolled over to spoon his lover.

“Morning, Hero,” Chigiri said, his voice still thick with sleep.

“Morning, Hyoma.”

#bllk #fanfic #blue lock #bllk fic #fic #chigiri hyoma #kunigami rensuke #kunigiri #chigirixkunigami #kunigiri fluff #chigiri fluff #kunigami fluff #bllk fluff

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brain-deadx0 · 2 years

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First Day of School

Part 5 of New Big Brother

Previous - Next Ao3

Summary: Remy and Virgil go back to school.

Warnings: Food, fire, Mitchell from cartoon therapy is in this, brief talk of violence but nothing too serious, let me know of anything I missed.

Remy woke to the quiet beeping of an alarm clock.

Great.

He suppressed a groan before rolling over and shutting it off. He was not looking forward to today.

Still, as much as he hated first days, and mornings in general, he pulled himself out of bed to get ready.

He was only partially surprised at this point when he went downstairs to see dad guy happily attempting to sing as he made… pancakes? Something mostly brown in a pan.

"Morning, Remy," dad guy grinned when he noticed him, "Ready for your first day of school?"

"I guess."

Dad guy sent him a sympathetic smile, "Yeah, first day at a new school can be a bit nerve wracking. But hey at least Emile will be there so you'll have a familiar face."

Remy shrugged. He and Emile had gotten to hang out a few times while watching Virgil, and the guy seemed chill enough, but there was no guarantee Emile would acknowledge his existence when they were at school.

"Remy!"

He let out a small grunt as Virgil slammed into him from behind, "Mornin' kid."

"Are you ready for the first day of school?" Virgil asked.

"Ready as I can be. What about you? Excited for the first day?"

"No," Virgil's nose scrunched in distaste, "But my friends family was gone all summer and he promised he'd be back by the first day of school."

"Cool."

"Yeah, his mom is from uh… Dad?"

"Germany," Dad guy reminded him.

"Yeah Germany! So they go there sometimes to see his mom's family. He always stays too long though." Virgil pouted.

"Now kiddo," Dad guy told him, "I know you miss your friend when he's gone but he likes seeing his family. And I know his mom really does too. Remember, she only gets to see her mom and dad and the rest of her family once or twice a year. Kinda like how Grammy and Pop pop only get to visit us once in a while."

"...I guess…" Virgil admitted, "But I'm still glad he's back."

Dad guy smiled, "I know kiddo. And I bet he's excited to see you again too." He said as he ruffled the kids hair, "Now let's get some breakfast."

Remy glanced over at the pan, "Uh… Mr. Sanders."

"Yeah?"

Remy pointed at the black smoke that was quickly starting to fill the kitchen.

"Uh oh!"

Dad guy rushed over to the smoking pan just as it burst into flames. Apparently this wasn't the first time because he just as quickly placed a lid over the top before taking it off the burner. After the fire was out he turned the stove off.

He looked back sheepishly, "Well. Eggos it is then."

…

After the backup breakfast, dad guy herded them out the door and into the car.

"Normally you'll have to take the bus, but we always do drop off and pick up on the first day." Dad guy told them with his signature smile as he glanced at them in the rear view.

"And birthdays!" Virgil added.

"And birthdays." Dad guy confirmed.

The drive to Southwest Side wasn't a long one thankfully and soon they were pulling into the drop off zone.

"Are you okay with me snapping a quick picture for your first day?" Dad guy asked before Remy got out, "It's fine if you don't want me to though." He added.

"Uh… If you want I guess?"

Dad guy smiled as he pulled out his phone, "Ok, just go ahead and hop out. All you gotta do is look back for a second so I can get a picture, okay?"

"Don't forget to smile!" Virgil added.

"Whatever you say, Victor." Remy said as he gave a small salute and climbed out of the car.

After getting a picture, Dad guy gave one last wave before driving away to take Virgil to his school.

'Okay,' Remy thought to himself as he pulled out his class schedule, 'time to figure out where the hell everything is.'

Thankfully dad guy dropped him off a bit early so he had time to theoretically find all the rooms.

"Remy, hey!"

Remy looked up at the familiar voice to see Emile waving and walking towards him, followed by two others, "'Sup."

"Glad I found you!" Emile grinned, "We were all gonna compare our schedules to see if we have classes together. These are a few of my friends."

"'Sup, names Kai, he/him." The first one introduced with a casual peace sign.

"Elliot, they/them." The other chimed in.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Remy, he/him."

"We're still waiting for a few of our other friends, but we'll see them later." Emile explained, "Until then do you want help finding your classes?"

"Sure,"

…

It was a good thing Emile and his friends were able to show Remy around the school that morning because apparently whoever designed Southwest Side happened to be the same person who designed the minotaur's maze. Seriously, who puts classes A1-15 next to classes D16-24?

Thankfully he also shared a few classes with each of them. It was a bit weird having someone save you a seat on the first day but Remy wasn't complaining. Especially when he was almost late to one class because some nut job put class numbers wherever the fuck they felt like.

Seriously, who designed this school?

Thankfully the lunchroom at least was easy to find. Emile and Kai waved him down when he got there before the three of them went to get their food.

"Where's Elliot?" Remy asked.

Kai rolled his eyes, "They went to save us a table with Mitchell."

"Who's Mitchell?"

"He's Elliot's boyfriend." Emile said.

"That's one way of describing him." Kai grumbled.

"Elliot can make their own choices, we're here to help support them." Emile recited.

"Do we have to be happy about it?"

"No."

"Good."

"Going out on a limb here and saying you guys don't like Mitchell?" Remy asked.

"You'll see soon enough." Kai told him as they finally got their lunch and headed for the tables.

It didn't take long to find them sitting at a table with three others. "Hey guys." Elliot smiled when they noticed them.

"You must be Remy." A very smiley person in plaid greeted, "It is so nice to meet you. My name is Sloane, he/him, and this," he pulled the person next to him into a tight side hug, "is my amazing boyfriend Corbin."

"PDA," Corbin chided, though he did have a small smile.

"Oh, right! Sorry." Sloane said as he quickly released his boyfriend and put a couple inches of space between them.

"It's nice to meet you, Remy." Corbin told him as he adjusted his glasses, "Emile's told us a bit about you."

"All good things of course." Emile assured.

"So Remy?" The guy next to Elliot asked, "Is that short for like, Remington or something?"

"Yeah actually," Remy admitted despite himself, "I don't really care for it though. Which is why I go by Remy."

"Oh no worries, no worries. I'm Mitchell by the way. Though call me Mitchie and I'll kick your ass." He grinned.

"Call me Remington I'll kick yours." Remy fired back with a matching grin.

Yeah he was starting to see why Kai and Emile didn't like this guy. His vibes were off and they barely got past introducing themselves.

"Please no butt kicking of any kind." Emile cut in.

"Except in Mario Kart." Kai added.

"Exactly." Emile smiled before jumping on the subject change, "Have you played it before?"

"Once or twice," Remy said, going along with it, "never really got to play many games though. Consoles are expensive."

The other four got up to join the lunch line while Remy, Emile, and Kai continued talking about video games. Admittedly it was mostly Emile and Kai, but to their credit they did try and keep Remy involved so he wasn't gonna fault them for it.

"We should all hang out at some point. I have a ton of games I think you'd be into." Kai told him, "Plus my mom let me set up a gaming room, well it's technically a "media room for everyone," but I'm the one who uses it the most so it's also my gaming room."

"Sounds good."

Overall the day wasn't a total loss. The teachers hadn't quite gotten to the seriously boring lessons yet since it was the first day. That paired with the fact that Emile's friends were pretty chill, other than Elliot's boyfriend, the day actually went by decently fast.

At the end of the day, Remy found himself hanging out with Emile, Kai, Corbin and Sloane in front of the school.

"Do you wanna ride?" Sloan asked when he and Corbin were about to leave, "We're going that way anyway."

"Nah I'm good. I'm getting picked up today." Remy told him.

"Oh ok, just let us know if you ever want or need a ride. We give Emile rides all the time."

"I'll keep that in mind." Remy told them.

As if being summoned by the mention of his existence, Dad guy's blue minivan pulled into the pickup zone.

"Speaking of, there's my ride now. I'll catch you guys tomorrow."

"Sounds good." "Later dude." "See you tomorrow." "Bye Remy!"

Remy quickly made his way to the car, not wanting to keep Dad guy waiting, before hopping in the back.

"Hey Remy, how was your first day?" Dad guy asked as soon as he was buckled in.

"It was fine." Remy shrugged.

"That's good. Did you hang out with Emile? You guys are in the same grade right?"

"Yeah."

"We still have some time before we gotta pick up Virgil. Wanna go get some food? You can pick where." Dad guy offered.

"I don't care. It's up to you." Remy told him, 'God please let this interaction end.'

"Ok, well do you have a preference? Burgers? Tacos? Sandwiches?"

"It's up to you."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

Dad guy hummed, "Ok well… what about some McDonalds? We can surprise Virgil with a happy meal, and if we're lucky maybe they have some ice cream."

"Okay."

Remy continued staring out the window as they presumably drove to McDonald's on the way to pick up Virgil.

…

They pulled up to the elementary school and saw a hoard of kids on the playground next to the pickup area behind the school. Teachers were running back and forth trying to corral the kids before their parents got there.

They got in the line and eventually reached an adult.

"Hi there," She smiled, "I just need your name and the kids name."

"Patton Sanders for Virgil Sanders."

The woman checked her clipboard before waving them ahead and talking into her radio.

Remy scanned the playground before spotting Virgil and another kid under one of the trees. An aid must've called for them because a moment later both kids were running over to a much more organized line of kids in the pickup zone.

It was a few more minutes before they pulled up to the zone but Virgil and his friend spotted them before the aid had to call them.

"Dad, can Logan come over today?" Virgil asked as soon as they reached the car.

"Sorry, Kiddo, not today. We'd have to ask his parents first. I can call them later though and maybe he can come over this weekend, ok?"

"Awww, ok." Virgil frowned for a moment before noticing Remy in the back seat, "Remy!"

"Sup kid."

"This is my best friend Logan. Logan, this is my new brother Remy." He introduced.

"Salutations," The kid said as he adjusted his glasses, "Virgil has told me a lot about you. It is nice to make your acquaintance, Remy."

"Nice to meet you too, Logan. Virgil was really excited to see you again." Remy told him.

"Alright, Kiddos," Dad guy said after a car honked behind them, "We gotta hurry up now. I'll call Logan's parents later okay?"

"Ok…" "That sounds sufficient." The two said in matching disappointment.

The two quickly said their goodbyes before Logan walked back towards the playground and Virgil climbed into the car seat next to Remy.

"I wish Logan could've come too." Virgil said as they pulled away.

"I know, kiddo." Dad guy told him, "But I have something to cheer you up."

"Really?"

Dad guy reached over to the passenger seat before awkwardly trying to pass the happy meal back without taking his eyes off the road.

Virgil gasped, "McDonalds!" He said before eagerly grabbing for the box.

"So how was your first day of first grade?" Dad guy asked as Virgil happily dug through the box.

"It was okay," Virgil told him, "Logan and me are in the same class again and our teacher seems nice. She even let us pick our own seats so me and Logan get to sit next to each other even!"

"That's great, Kiddo!" Dad guy grinned back at the kid through the mirror, "It's always nice to sit next to friends. Did you do anything special in class today?"

Remy stared out the window as Dad guy drove them back to the house. If he happened to ask the kid a few questions about his day that was no one's business but his own.

#brain dead writes #new big brother #look who finally wrote #sanders sides #sanders sides fan fic #patton sanders #remy sleep #virgil sanders #logan sanders

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mockingbirdshymn · 1 year

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headcanons for the adult camp camp characters part 1 nerriston/performance trio because i love them with all of my heart ever

preston ends up working at a local theatre as the primary director there!! the theatre's actors usually consist of high school students and the theatre ends up hosting a lot of larger high school or college plays, and preston has pressured quite a few colleges into doing some of his favorite plays. the happiest hes ever been was when he got to direct a heathers play. he literally came home and shoved the script in harrison and nerris' faces out of excitement.

harrison works as a magician at the same theatre. he did a few shows in other theatres, a few times in vegas. he wants to become a famous magician, (as preston does a famous actor), but likes his life where it is right now and wouldnt want to be moving all of the time for shows. plus, hes terrified of being seen as a freak of some sort of ridiculed. he does bigger shows every so often, dont think he doesnt, but he mainly does shows in his city.

nerris' job is in marketing. she hates it a lot but performance doesnt bring as much money in as theyd like so they have to put in effort. theyre honestly happy with it because while the job itself sucks, she likes seeing harrison and preston be able to do their own crafts.

nerris did not want a dog. preston and harrison found a dog being given away in a walmart parking lot. and thus, nerris woke up to a dog in their home. harrison named him mantacore after the roy and siegfried's tiger yk the one. he is a samoyed. he sleeps on the bed with them.

they dont have kids ever mostly because i really dont like kids im sorry but i feel as though preston would see a child and go "ew" and nerris is the only one with actually good parents so 2/3 of the kids parents would just not know what to do. soooo no kids

nerris binds but never gets top surgery!! this is mostly because some days they dont really get dysphoria, and they still like appearing feminine from time to time (though neutral is definitely their style like 75% of the time). this headcanon is made by me, someone who binds but does not want to get top surgery, half projecting onto nerris

harrison does not drink, preston sometimes does, nerris does. this doesnt rlly have a followup headcanon but i can only imagine harrison's introverted ass staring down at a cup of orange juice while at a party and then driving everyone else home

there are three bookshelves in the living room. you can tell whos is whos because one is filled with percy jackson and narnia and other fantasy books, another has every script to every play in existence ever as well as analysis books of creative theatre, and one has like four magic related books and mostly stores props. not to say harrison doesnt read, but he mostly steals from nerris' shelf when he wants to read.

every summer, the performance trio (along with the other adult campers) hangs out at camp campbell. the camp shut down after the kids all became adults, mostly because nobody wanted to send their kids to a camp known for being a money laundering scheme, housing a known criminal (cameron campbell), overall a big scam, and because the amount of fbi helicopters flying to the camp was enough to drive everyone else away. it was a miracle the campers were allowed to come back there the following summers.

as adults, the campers are all relatively good friends. dolph moved to germany, but he visits whenever he can, and neil is gone a lot doing research projects in different countries, but the campers still live relatively close together and hang out a lot. i cant see a universe where they stop talking after camp

in honor of the camp, and also because yellow grew on them after a while, yellow is still a color most of the campers wear pretty often, except for max, dolph, and space kid.

harrison is still scared of quartermaster. how is he not dead yet. it has been a decade. he looked old when david was a kid. why is he still here. what the fuck was up with that space octopus. what does he know.

i like to think at least once quartermaster showed up at the nerriston house, poked his hook at harrison and said "come with me" and harrison Just Did. he came back a day later looking absolutely disturbed. he probably saw a demon or something, knowing quartermaster.

#if this contradicts any of my other headcanon posts #ignore that #im inconsistent #i can never see characters i like having kids just ever #again its because i dont really like kids #theyre fun to babysit but. all of the time? 24/7? no

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ham1lton · 1 month

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WET DREAMZ.

pairings: sebastian vettel x reader. lewis hamilton x reader. jenson button x reader. nico rosberg x reader. fernando alonso x reader.

summary: when you move next door to a hot single dad, you take it upon yourself to seduce him. too bad for you that he uncovers your plan. you’re not exactly subtle.

warnings: sexual content. like most of this is straight up smut. mdni. explicit mentions of f!reader’s body parts. charles cameo in nico’s! implied cheating in fernando’s.

author’s note: i woke up in a fugue and wrote this as i ignored all of my adult responsibilities. show it some love <3 also no beta. we die like men.

— taglist | tip jar | feedback and requests | masterlist | ♡

SEBASTIAN VETTEL ✿

when your company allowed you to work remotely, you moved into a smaller village on the outskirts of germany. your family and friends weren’t too happy with your decision to move but with the current economic state of your country at the moment, it was great for your bank account.

your house was a modest affair, with three bedrooms but a gorgeous kitchen that gave you direct visual access into your neighbour’s backyard. the same neighbour who knocked on your door when you first moved in, with a jar of honey and some eggs as a housewarming gift. he was covered with a light sheen of sweat that would have seemed disgusting on anyone else. he introduced himself in german and switched to lightly accented english when he saw your confusion.

he’d sometimes pass you when he was walking his dog, or cycling to the farmer’s market. he’d make his kids wave hello as he’d pick them up and drop them off at their mother’s. he’d take your cakes when you’d exhausted your baking hobbies and would burst if you’d have another slice. he’d grin and smile bashfully when you told him you’d made one just the way he’d liked it.

as you watch him, he turns around and waves at you. a big grin splitting his face as you wave back. you’re so fucked. you spent an hour on facetime last night with your best friends as you went through the pros and cons of fucking your hot neighbour.

the cons outweighed the pros mostly, if it went badly you could lose access to the free gifts he’d bring by occasionally or his help when he would have a look at your car when it started spluttering when you needed to buy groceries. it would be weird too. aren’t adults supposed to be on good terms with their neighbours?

it didn’t stop you from you asking him if you could wait out the storm in his house instead of yours as all the lights had gone out and when he kissed you, you were shocked. you hadn’t needed to come up with a plan to seduce him into wanting you, because he already did.

he had you spread over his lap, his ring finger and his middle finger already in your centre. the sounds of your arousal filling the room as you fucked yourself against his digits. he smiled into the crook of your neck before kissing it.

“i knew you were this desperate for it,” he hums, his german accent thicker as he pressed his thumb lightly against your clit. he’s teasing you, and normally you’d be okay with it. playing this mutual game of cat and mouse but not when you’re this desperate to get off. “it’s okay. because i was desperate for it too.”

your eyes roll back as you reach your peak.

LEWIS HAMILTON ᯽

after your promotion, you decide to treat yourself to a summer home in monaco. it’s a flat in an expensive complex, with a pool, a gym and even a spa. you’d spend many days relaxing and enjoying the amenities or shopping with the bonus money that your boss had bestowed upon you for sealing a contract with one of the biggest businesses in your country. this was your time to relax.

yet, you couldn’t relax. as you finished your daily workout - yes you now had the time - you saw the hottest man in your entire life walk past you in a loose gym set. embarrassingly, you were filling up your water bottle which overflowed and covered you with the excess. thank god he didn’t see.

you hadn’t been much of a femme fatale, you were more of a business woman in your head. your sister told you that there wasn’t much difference between the two, just that the femme fatale chose a different line of business. it was that comment that encouraged you to start your plan of seduction.

it wasn’t working, even when you wore your best gym outfit, the one that made your ass look incredible, or when you attempted to bump into him at the complex’s coffee shop in the cute two piece that exposed your best assets. it seemed like he disappeared.

until he knocked at your door at the middle of the day, you opened it to see him dressed in a suit. for a selfish second, your thoughts drifted to him wearing this for you.

“do you mind watching my dog? roscoe is in a mood today and my usual dogsitter is busy. i have a meeting that is impossible for me to get out of. you’ll be doing me a big favour.” oh. he was british.

you smile at him, as graciously as you can. thanking god that you had just come back from brunch with the girls, so your hair and makeup were still done. you told him all about how much you love dogs and you wouldn’t mind at all watching his fur baby! you were a lovely neighbour after all.

he repaid the favour later anyways, on his knees and in between your legs. he pulls down your underwear, you had shaved in anxious preparation for this moment, your arousal leaving a stain against the fabric. he pressed his thumb against your folds before licking a stripe between them. his tongue flicking against you, as you pressed down harder on his face.

your moans were loud and unapologetic. you had a gorgeous man between your thighs, eating you out like this was his calling. he grinned at you, his face drenched in your juices. you groaned and put your hands on his braids.

now this was a holiday.

JENSON BUTTON ☆

moving to the big city was supposed to be a shock, but you took to it gracefully like a duck to water. london wasn’t the nicest to everyone but it took a liking to you. you bought a house with your best friend in a family neighbourhood with low crime rates and a high chance of getting more money when you’d both inevitably sell it in the future.

it was walkable which you loved. you could walk less then ten minutes to go shopping. you had come back with a few shopping bags when you accidentally bumped into your neighbour who was coming back from picking up his daughters. he laughs at the action as he apologises and gives a hand out for you to shake.

“i’m jenson. sorry about that, these two usually have me run off my feet!” he points at his two daughters who have already ran insider the house. “it’s like they’re my parents.”

after shaking your hand, he takes his cap off and runs a hand through his slightly greying hair. he’s wearing a pair of shorts with a loose t-shirt. it is almost summertime but the weather in london had a mind of its own. sunny one day, rainy the next and freezing for both. but jenson didn’t seem to mind the cold.

you introduce yourself and he listens intently until you realise that you have to go. there is frozen food in the bags and jenson’s daughters are calling for their post-school snack. but after that meeting, you always time your post shopping trip for when jenson comes back with the girls. your roommate/best friend doesn’t protest when you insist on the shopping being your chore but she does give you a sideways glance when she sees you chatting with jenson again on the step.

one night, you’ve come back from a date. it went awfully as per usual, although london seemed to love you and want you, the men didn’t seem to. you’re home late, when you rummage in your purse and swear loudly. you brought the wrong purse! you could call your roommate but she sleeps like the dead and probably wouldn’t answer. you’re thinking of breaking through the window when a voice calls at you.

“y/n?” jenson grins at you. “are you alright?”

after a moment, and a few minutes of arguing that you’re fine to sleep in the bushes, you’re inside jenson’s home. dressed in a pair of his old clothes. he hands you a cup of tea and puts down a packet of biscuits next to it.

“so, are you going to tell me why i caught you dressed to the nines and attempting to break through a window?” he’s trying to sound stern but he’s smiling as he says it.

“bad date,” you start and smile ruefully, taking a sip of tea. “forgot my keys and well, at least you caught me before i did any damage.”

he laughs. you laugh too but not before realising that there are probably kids sleeping in the house. you bring this up to jenson who waves off your concern.

“the girls are at their mum’s. it’s just us. don’t worry. you can be as loud as you’d like.”

you end up being very loud as you lay on his very comfortable bed. he’s tapping himself again the hood of your clit as you squirm breathless from the earlier orgasm he gave you. he smiles at you, leaning up to kiss you as he slides in, swallowing your gasps as he kisses you firmer.

“you know how long i’ve dreamt of having you like this?” he asks. you shake your head, moaning again as he fucks you harder. “since the first day you bumped into me, in that little fucking skirt. dreamt of bending you over and having you like this. anyway you’d let me. would you?”

you nod, voice locked in your throat as he mouths at your tits. he smiles at your willingness.

“good. we have the entire weekend to ourselves. let’s see how many times i can get you to cum. hmm?” you squeeze yourself around him as you have your first orgasm. your cunt spasming as he gently pulls out. he lets you rest against him for a moment, taking a deep breath as he runs a hand down your back.

“now that’s number one. keep count for me darling, okay?”

NICO ROSBERG 𑁍

you weren’t a yacht person. when your university friend had begged you to come home with her for the holidays, you hadn’t expected the family party to be held on a yacht. this was out of your tax bracket.

it seemed like everyone in monaco was right. the casual displays of wealth and decadence made you sick at times. thinking about how the money that went to buying that birkin bag could have made a change in someone’s life. then you think about how you’re wearing a custom gown on a friend’s yacht and realise that you’re now part of the problem.

a bonus about being in monaco, was that the men were gorgeous. your friend’s older brother charles was handsome with dimples and a gorgeous accent. if he hadn’t been in a relationship with a supermodel, you would have been all over that. thankfully, there was more eye candy in the city. your friend’s father had a business partner that was in their house more often then not.

he was blond, blunt and pretty in all the ways an older man could be. when he looked at you, you felt like the world could burn at your feet. he had also been on the yacht at the same time as you. drinking champagne, mingling with family and investors as you ate canapés and watched the sky.

“is it boring you?” he asks, as you turn around. he was dressed in a loose linen shirt, light coloured trousers with his shirt open just enough to see the smooth skin underneath. “can’t believe she brought you to a work event.”

“it’s fine. there are worse places to be.” you respond. you take a sip of champagne and you both ignore the fact he watches the sip go down. he takes note of the way that you’re still looking in the direction of charles and his girlfriend, the two still wrapped around each other.

“you’ve fallen for the charles charm?” he says, smiling as he sits across from you. he puts his ankles up on the table like he owns it, which he probably does. you can tell a lot from a person’s body language, and his is telling you that he’s used to getting what he wants. “it’s a shame. another pretty girl lost in his eyes. want another drink?”

“pretty girl?”

he nods, blue eyes darkening as he looks at you over the rim of his drink.

“would you want me to show you how pretty i think you are?”

so that’s how you find yourself bent over the sink in the bathroom at a yacht party, your pretty dress bunched up at the waist as he presses his fingers inside you. scissoring them to stretch you wider.

“is this what you imagined he’d do to you?” he asks, voice curious. “that he’d go down on you in one of the bedrooms? he’d let you go down on him? that he’d split you open with his cock as we all walked around upstairs?”

you sob as he talks you through it, mascara running down your cheeks. how are you going to explain to your best friend that you fucked her dear precious uncle nico while talking about her brother. he grinds his palm against your clit as he stands up and gags your mouth with his fingers.

“can’t be too loud honey, don’t want them to hear you.”

FERNANDO ALONSO ꩜

spain was a big adventure for you and your boyfriend. the two of you made the decision to move for a few months to his grandfather’s home to help redesign the place. it was slightly run down but nothing that you couldn’t fix. the goal was to rebuild it in order to sell it off.

however, you hadn’t foreseen that this would effectively destroy what relationship you had with your boyfriend. he insisted on not signing the place under your name despite you also funnelling funds into the rebuilding of the house. after another argument, you decide to take a break. wearing a bikini, and armed with nothing besides water, sunscreen and a good book, you make your way into the backyard. sunning yourself to at least gain something from all the money you’ve put in, even if its just a tan and a relaxing afternoon.

“you’re the new neighbour?” a voice calls out, as he leans against the fence that separates your property. you knew the next door neighbour had kids, you could hear them playing occasionally in the summer sun as you painted. you didn’t know they had a hot dad. that’s new information. he smiles at you. “it’s been a while since there has been a young person. the old man who lived here has been here since before i was even born. you’re his kid?”

“no,” you laugh. “he’s my boyfriend’s grandfather. i’m just here as a cash cow apparently.”

your voice turns a little bitter but why wouldn’t you be? you have put in the same amount of time and effort as he has onto this place and now you’re not getting anything back. court is an option but it’ll drain even more of your bank account.

“why is that?” he asks, head tilted as he looks at you.

you end up spilling everything to him. about the house, the money, the contract that has your name redacted. in return, he tells you that his name is fernando and the kids you always hear playing in his back garden aren’t his but rather his nieces and nephews. it’s nice listening to him speak, with the heavy spanish lilt to his accent. he is the first person in a while who has just listened to your grievances so when he asks you inside for a drink, you don’t hesitate. grabbing your wraparound skirt, you follow him inside.

less then ten minutes later, you’re on his lap, as he presses his mouth against your tits. enveloping one nipple in his mouth while his fingers move to play with your other one. you grind down harder against him, feeling your clit brush against the hard muscle of his thigh. your bottoms are soaked with your arousal as you lean closer and bite his shoulder to stay quiet. he leans away from you for a moment, as your eyes widen worried that you’ve done something wrong.

“don’t be quiet hermosa, let him hear it,” he grins up at you then leans in for a kiss. “isn’t that most of the fun?”

author’s note: sorry y’all idk what came over me.

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greenbagjosh · 10 months

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Sunday 2 August 1998 - yummy eggs with bell peppers - paprika market near Nyugati pu, apartment blocks near Köbánya Kispest and Yugos you never saw before - long train ride home to M-Ostbahnhof and tribute to FM4′s Julia Barnes

Sunday 2 August 1998

Hi everyone, jó reggelt and dobré ráno

In spite of the noisy roommates, I hope you slept well. Today will include a long train ride home, but first a north-south journey with an unforgettable breakfast at a cafe. We make it home about 9:30 PM.

The summary of the day for those who may not have time to read everything - around 5:45 AM wake up because the sun rises earlier in Hungary than in Germany - took shower, got dressed and checked out of hostel. See Trabants, Wartburgs and 4-door Yugos along the way - went to Ferenciek Tere, bought a napijegy for the metro, xfrd at Déak Tér for Keleti pályaudvar - left clothes bag at left luggage, mark my Eurail pass with 02 08, leaving two more spaces - took trolleybus to Nyugati Pályaudvar, strolled around the open market, lots of peppers to admire - breakfast at Mephisto Cafe, with excellent Hungarian egg scramble and best coffee in Europe - metro M3 south to Köbánya Kispest, and to Határ út with tram to Lehel utca - last tram ride along the Danube, 12:30 departure for Vienna and München - cross into Austria after Hegyeshalom and Nickelsdorf - train reverse about 3:30 PM at Vienna Westbahnhof, five more hours until München Ostbahnhof - local U-Bahn trains and bus to home via Max-Weber-Platz and Arabellapark - and hear complaints from roommates about the alarm clock in my room ?? - at least I made it back. Well that was all for a Sunday in Central Europe. Let's have some more fun in Budapest before getting on a train for about eight hours. (in comparison with the last two days, the prose is much shorter for today)

On Sunday 2nd August 1998, it was a sunny day for the most part. Due to Hungary's eastern position in the Central European +1 (+2 in summer) time zone, and being in the same zone as Paris and München, the sun rose earlier than in Germany or even France or Spain. Even with the noisy roommates, I woke up about 5:45 AM. The hostel did not offer breakfast as the cafeteria was shut for the summer. So I had to find somewhere else for breakfast. I took a shower in the men's dorm shower area, got dressed and checked out of the hostel. I needed a place to put my clothes bag as I did not want to carry it around all day.

Walking to the Ferenciek Tere metro station, I thought to myself I could properly pronounce the word "napijegy" properly. Along the way I saw a few Trabants, Wartburgs and even a 4-door Yugo. Most people in the USA would likely only know of the 3-door hatchback, but Zastava also made a 4-door sedan version as well. It is only logical that the Yugos would be present in Hungary since it shares a border with the then-Yugoslavia.

Once I entered the Ferenciek Tere station, I went to the ticket counter and bought my napijegy. This time the ticket seller understood what I needed, and gave me a napijegy for 2nd August. Then I went on to Keleti pályaudvar, changing at Déak Tér. At Keleti, the baggage handler could speak some English and asked for 600 Forint to watch my bag. He gave me a claim ticket for when I wanted to get the bag back. After Keleti, I went on a trolley bus northwards to somewhere outside of Nyugati Pályaudvar. Nyugati is only a commuter rail station. To the north is a shopping center, but what I found interesting, was to the east of Nyugati, was a farmer's market. Almost half of the produce sold was actually paprika. Some red, some green but mostly yellow. Paprika is probably the most recognizable vegetables from Hungary. Photos of the paprikas can be found in the "Rechtschreibreform" album, towards the end.

I took the M-3 to Déak Tér to find a place to eat breakfast. There was one place close to Vörösmarty Tér on the Váci utca, called the Mephisto Cafe. The place looked inviting, and I sat at an outside table. The servers offered me coffee, and it was the Segafredo coffee that I had on Friday, but with milk and sugar. I looked in the menu and chose a scrambled eggs and vegetables plate. The eggs were scrambled with ham and red peppers, and came with cucumbers and tomatoes. It was probably the best egg dish I had in a long time. I stayed about an hour, until it was time to get up. I asked, in Hungarian, to pay the bill, without reverting to either German or English, trying to make use of the phrasebook. I think breakfast cost 1,100 Forint with coffee, very reasonable.

I wanted to see the south of Budapest, namely in the Kispest. Taking the M-3 to Köbánya-Kispest, I passed by Határ út which I would transfer to the tram with. But at Köbánya-Kispest, it was a surface station where I could see the metro car in daylight. At Köbánya Kispest, it is a transfer station to the suburban railway that goes to the airport among other places southeast of Budapest. Going back to Határ út, it seemed more interesting than many of the other stations towards Klinikák and further to Déak Tér and Újpest. At Határ út, I took a tram line 42 to Hungária út, where there was a Spar grocery store, open on Sunday. In Hungary, the grocery stores are called "ABC-bolt". I bought some bread, some cheese similar to provolone, and spicy salami. And also an herbal drink similar to the Almdudler that you can get all across Austria. Going back to the tram stop, there were a few 4-door Yugos to be seen and here and there also a Trabant.

I felt there was one last thing to do, it was 11:15 AM and I still wanted to go up and down the Danube one last time. So I went to Kálvin Tér on the M-3 and boarded a line 2 tram at the nearby Fovám tér stop, and made it as far south as Boráros tér where the H-7 train departs from. It was a sunny day so the view across the Danube was excellent, though it was hot in the tram. I had to be sure that I would have enough time to get to Keleti, to catch the train, so I went back and alighted at Vigadó tér, walked to Vörösmarty tér, transferred to the M-2 at Déak tér, and went the three stops over. I had fifteen minutes to get the clothes bag and board the train. I made good time, was on the train about 12:10 AM before it left. Turning on the radio I heard a Cliff Richard song from the early 1960s, I think "Summer Holiday", then the train conductor made an announcement in Hungarian, German and English. I understood his German and English well enough. When he came around to check my ticket, I showed him my passport with the ticket and he said Thank-You in English. I had for about three hours, the entire six-person compartment in first class, all to myself. So I could just sit back, watch the scenery and listen to the radio.

The train made a counterclockwise turn before heading left towards Tatabánya and Gyor. It would be about a half hour before being able to pretend that I was also in ???? Slovakia, as Tata up to Hegyeshalom is within five miles of the Slovak border. It's like being in a bilingual corridor. About 2:15 PM the train arrived at Hegyeshalom. ???????????? ????The Hungarian border guards checked passports and gave me an exit stamp. Also the MÁV locomotive was swapped for an ÖBB locomotive. About 2:30 PM the train pulled into Nickelsdorf and entered Austria. I received an entry stamp. I think about this area, between here and Bruck an der Leitha, it is the limit of the Hungarian and to some degree, also the Slovak radio reception area. But it was also the beginning of Blue Danube Radio's range, as at 2:55 PM I was able to receive that station, and hear "Fantasy Love" by Stanley Clark. I switched to an Austrian station, namely Radio Niederösterreich, and they were playing the last two minutes of Juliane Wehrding's "Sehnsucht ist unheilbar" before the news. Still the Lassing Mine Disaster was newsworthy, but not much progress from two days ago had happened. After the news I switched the radio to Hit Radio Ö3, heard the latest Top 40 countdown, I heard "I'm still waiting" by Sasha, "No tengo dinero" by Los Umbrellos, "Laura non c'è" by Nek, "High" by the Lighthouse Family, "Lucky for you" by Espen Lind, and "Dream Lover" by Mariah Carey. Yes that was considered proper music in 1998. They were also doing a contest to win a million ATS, which is hardly more than $80k US at those exchange rates.

They did a cute Grimm fairy tale sketch that went like "Oh schreck, eine ganze Million ist 'weck'" "Gille-gille, am Montag gibts nochma a Mille" "eine Million, das wäre die Sommersensation!" and all these years later I still have it on tape.

At 3:25 PM the train reached Vienna Westbahnhof, where it would switch directions. And all good things had to come to an end, no more compartment to myself. A young man in his mid 20s also entered my compartment with his backpack on a similar adventure to my own. We did not speak much. I turned the radio from "Stranded" by Lutricia McNeal on Hit Radio Ö3 to Blue Danube, and it was playing more jazz, for example "Don't say it's over" by Randy Crawford, and then the news was read in English, read by Julia Barnes (sadly she passed away in May 2017, as per https://fm4.orf.at/stories/2845462/). There was not much news to mention about the mine disaster that was not already said in other similar Austrian media. She mentioned there was a war going on in the Kosovo. She mentioned that Hakkinen finished first in the Formel 1 with a McLaren. I think she did the news very well. Hopefully this is a nice tribute to Ms Barnes who I remember reading the news in English at 3:30 PM on Sunday 2nd August 1998.

About 3:40 the train left Vienna for St Pölten, Linz, Salzburg and München. About 4 PM I listened to one more news report, pretty much the same so it got a bit boring, so music was more of a highlight. One classic song I heard was "Dedicated follower of fashion" by The Kinks. About 4:05 PM I thought it would be a good time to take a nap, the compartment air conditioning was cooling much better by then and I did not drink much of the herbal drink compared to the time before I crossed from Hungary to Austria. ?????????????????????? (no meaningful customs formalities carried out b/w AT and DE) The crossing from Salzburg to Freilassing about 6:30 PM went uneventfully other than the conductor checking that the 02 and 08 in my ticket were still as they were. The train arrived in München Ostbahnhof about 8:10 PM, and I could alight there, transfer to the U-5, then to a U-4 at Max Weber Platz, bus 37 for home at Arabellapark. Well I thought I was safe and sound, at 8:45 PM when I got home, but .....

The roommates were not particularly happy. They let me know, that my radio went off both Saturday and Sunday at the usual time when they wanted to sleep in. And the next time I leave for the weekend, to be very sure, and I mean, very sure, that I turn off the alarm, before I leave. It was a moment of humility. I would go to sleep and make it to work the next morning and have stories to tell. And soon enough I would be on good terms with the roommates once again.

So what happened after this? The following week of this story? What world event(s) would occur, that would be on every newspaper by Friday the 7th August 1998? ???????? ?????? How would it even affect the USA? And what were the names of scorn for years to come, after that? And what did I do a few days later, to get away from it all? (I needed to). Well, you will just have to tune in by Friday the 7th August 1998 to Sunday the 9th August 1998.

Hope you had fun on the weekend of 31 July to 2nd August 1998. Alles Gute und schönen Abend noch!

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wowbright · 2 years

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Fic: Zigzag

Tan Hands and Tan Lines SmuttySmooty Word Challenge 2021: zigzag

Words: ~4200 words

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary: Kurt zigs when Blaine expects him to zag.

I’m belatedly going through the prompts for The Tan Hands and Tan Lines Summer Event 2021 to flesh out my Mormon!Klaine universe. This one takes place the morning after Truth Eternal and Mancrush (or Mother’s Day, Part 2).

My Mormon!Klaine Masterpost.

Notes: The cardamom buns Blaine makes are similar to these, but with icing instead of sprinkled sugar. The Little White Bible is a nickname for the Missionary Handbook. If you have any questions or typo corrections, feel free to use my ask box!

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Blaine woke up with “What Is Love?” by Haddaway blasting in his brain, a residual sound from some strange dream he'd been having about being at a nighttime Christmas market in Dresden and it turning into an outdoor beer festival with a whole street blocked off as a dance floor. The lights flashed pink and blue and purple and lit up Kurt’s hair like fine mahogany sprinkled with garnets and amethyst dust. Kurt pulled him into the throng and spun Blaine around until he was dizzy, until he could see nothing but a kaleidoscope of colors, until his heart almost pounded out of his chest. And he never wanted it to end.

Blaine blinked. The lights were gone. He was surrounded by the darkness of the room, dimly lit by the skylight above. But his heart was still doing the same thing it had done in his dream, thumping as fast as if he had just run up five flights of stairs.

What is love?

Oh baby, don't hurt me.

Don't hurt me no more.

What was love? The question slapped Blaine awake.

There was no hope of falling back asleep now.

Kurt woke to the smell of sugar and warm cardamom suffusing the bedroom. Was it Christmas? He patted his mattress as if touching something solid would give him an answer. No. He was in Germany. It was springtime. Blaine's bed was as neatly made as if it hadn't been slept in at all.

Kurt looked at the clock. Ten minutes until the alarm was set to go off. How long had Blaine been up? And how had Kurt slept through his waking? If Kurt ever expected to get a solid night's sleep, it wouldn't have been last night. Not after such unsettling prayers.

Kurt hadn’t been seeking out further light and knowledge. He wasn't arrogant enough to think that he deserved it; the Holy Ghost might whisper to ordinary church members, but true knowledge was supposed to come through the brethren. All he’d wanted to do was honor his mother, the way God commanded.

But following the promptings of the Holy Ghost didn't always lead you where you expected. As a teenager, Joseph Smith went into the Sacred Grove to pray for the forgiveness of his sins, but came out having seen Heavenly Father and Jesus in the flesh.

That’s how truth had fallen into Kurt’s lap: unbidden and even a little unwelcome. God was God—not the church, not the brethren, not Gordon B. Hinckley or Thomas S. Monson or Joseph Smith. The Word of Wisdom wasn't God, and Preach My Gospel wasn't God. These things might point to God. But they weren't one and the same thing.

Kurt felt like the world was tipping on its axis. He kept thinking of that scene in Inception where the city of Paris folded in on itself like an M.C. Escher painting. If Kurt had woken up to find that the ground had become the sky and the sky was falling down over the horizon, he would feel no more confusion and awe than he had felt the night before with that one, quiet revelation: Be still, and know that I am God.

In the kitchen, Blaine was humming “God Is Love” to himself. It was the best answer he could come up with right now to Haddaway’s question, even if deep down inside, Blaine knew Haddaway wasn’t singing about that kind of love. But Haddaway’s kind of love—Blaine didn't know the first thing about it.

All Blaine knew about romance was what he’d read in books and seen in movies. Boy meets girl, boy likes girl, girl likes boy back, and then—BOOM!—love. There were flowers and kissing and wanting to do more than kiss, though of course just because people were in love didn't mean they couldn't practice self-control. And then came marriage and a life together, and eternity if you did the right things.

Blaine loved Kurt. That was a given. But how could he be in love with him? Not that there would be anything wrong with that, but—Blaine was straight. If he was gay, he would have figured that out by now. Kurt knew when he was, what, five years old? Maybe other people figured it out later, but certainly they would have to know by the time they exited puberty. Chandler knew, and Sebastian knew, and so did the myriad gay kids he’d known in show choir and the drama club. Blaine was just an ordinary, straight boy who was going to have an ordinary, straight life. He was supposed to find a girl who was like Tina, but a member of the church and less rebellious. And maybe there was a part of Blaine that wished he was gay, because then—

No. It was pointless to dream about things that couldn’t be.

Blaine took the icing off the stove, stirring it to keep the sugar dissolved as it started to cool. The sweet scent brought back a memory of his daddy grandma’s kitchen when he was little, and how tall she was back then. He barely reached the trailing ends of her apron strings. The chairs were big and took work to climb into, and the kitchen counter came up over the top of his head.

Back then, everything in that house had been so enormous and inexplicable, like the world was now.

Kurt walked into the kitchen to find Blaine at the counter, drizzling icing over fancy little pastries worthy of being displayed in the bakery window down the street.

Blaine was so absorbed in the process that he didn't notice Kurt. So Kurt took the opportunity to watch him bending over his creations with the focused concentration of an artist. He was in his element, and beautiful, humming to himself and seemingly unaware of the bits of flour on his cheekbones and nose, and the smear of what looked like butter and cinnamon screaming out like a gash on the side of his neck. His hair, also dusted with flour, was loose and curly, radiating out from his scalp in blurry corkscrews. Kurt had the urge to reach in there and pull one just to see how hard it bounced back, something he couldn’t remember feeling since he was in kindergarten and sat behind a little girl with Shirley Temple hair. Of course, this was different. That had been curiosity mixed with mischief.

But this? It was the desire to touch one of the wonders God had created and call it good.

Kurt recognized the tune Blaine was humming, and the lyrics flooded into his mind:Sacred songs, beneath, above, have one chorus: God is love.

They sparked Kurt’s memory of a verse from 1 John: God is love; and he that dwelleth in love dwelleth in God, and God in him.

Huh. The Holy Ghost really wasn’t going to let up on this theme, was he?

Blaine still hadn’t looked up from his work. And Kurt didn't want to startle him. So he began singing softly to Blaine’s humming:

All the hopes that sweetly start from the fountain of the heart,

All the bliss that ever comes to our earthly human homes,

All the voices from above sweetly whisper: God is love.

Blaine looked up and smiled. It was that same smile he always had for Kurt: kind and welcoming and pleased as punch with everything God had given him. Kurt was pretty sure he could see that smile a hundred times a day for the rest of his life and never tire of it. Into eternity, even.

And maybe it was okay that Kurt felt that way. If God was love, would he really have a problem with Kurt feeling loved?

Blaine joined in the lyrics, singing the harmony as Kurt walked over and stood by his side, inspecting the creations. Each roll was tide into a knot, its contours highlighted by stripes of caramelized sugar accented with spice. “You made those yourself?” Kurt said. It was more a statement of awe than a question.

Blaine nodded solemnly. “They were a specialty of my grandmother on my dad's side. I stole the recipe when she died.”

“Stole it?” Kurt asked gently. Certainly Blaine was exaggerating. He didn't come across as a masked burglar. Maybe a masked superhero, going around saving babies and stopping train wrecks. But not a thief.

“Yep. At the funeral I heard my grandpa saying that everything in the kitchen would be passed down to my aunt, even though my aunt hated cooking. My grandpa didn't say the part about her hating cooking—we all knew that already. But she was his only daughter, and she was going to learn how to be an ideal housewife whether she liked it or not, as far as he was concerned. It didn't matter that I was the one going over to their house every week to bake with daddy grandma, or that she’d written my name in the top of the recipe box so I could have it when she was gone. So I biked over to their house before the funeral was over and took the entire recipe box. I told my aunt a few years later, and she thought it was hilarious. But yes, technically, it was stealing.”

“I don't know. It seems like if your grandmother wanted you to have them, they were yours.”

Blaine shrugged. “Arizona is a community property state. So anything that was hers became his when she died.”

“I don't think God's law is bound by Arizona statute.”

“‘We believe in being subject to kings, presidents, rulers, and magistrates, in obeying, honoring, and sustaining the law.’” Blaine set the empty icing pan back on the stove.

“Touché. But the church makes exceptions to that Article of Faith. It certainly doesn’t honor same-sex marriage in places where it's legal,” Kurt said drolly, though his heart beat a little faster at his daringness. “So I think you're good on honoring your grandmother’s wishes.”

Blaine’s eyes went wide. He suppressed a smile. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then pursed it closed. He looked like a little kid who was afraid of spilling his secret birthday wish before he had a chance to blow out the candles.

“What?” Kurt said.

“Just … You always zig when I think you're about to zag and I-I just, I— It’s delightful.”

“You mean, because I'm usually the orthodox drudge and you're usually the saucy one?”

Blaine’s cheeks went a little pink and he lowered his eyes bashfully. His lashes stood out like thick lines of India ink against his skin. God of heaven and earth, he really was beautiful. “I'm not saucy.”

“Well, at least you agree that I'm a drudge.”

“You're not—” Blaine looked back down at his pile of creations. “Drudge is the last word I would use to describe you. Though, if you wouldn’t mind pretending to be a drudge for a few moments and set the table? I don't want these to cool off too much before we eat them. They're so good warm.”

“Ja wohl, mein Herr,” said Kurt, and got to work.

Blaine got out their largest plate and set the rolls on it in a spiraling mountain. It was much more than they could eat at one sitting—the recipe made enough to feed most of the extended Anderson clan, and Blaine had not trusted his 3 a.m. math skills enough to try adjusting it for the two of them.

But maybe that was a good thing. The mission conference was coming up, and if he and Kurt couldn't eat them all they could bring them to share. And the mountain was so satisfying to look at, even if Blaine never got the knots in quite the same shape as his grandmother had.

He had done something good with his stress and his hours of lost sleep. He had made something that would bring joy to others.

Blaine focused on that and not the way his stomach had been flipping around in his abdomen ever since Kurt’s soft jab at the brethren over same-sex marriage.

If Cooper were here, he would surely point to this as more evidence supporting his argument. Butterflies in the stomach, Blaine? he could hear his brother say. What do you think that means? But people got butterflies in their stomachs for all sorts of reasons. Blaine got them when he shared his testimony. He’d gotten them every time he'd baptized someone. Stillness and calm could be a sign of the Holy Ghost, but so could giddy exuberance. Because sometimes, the love of God grew so big inside you that it pushed up against all your guts. It clamored to get out and be shared. In those moments, Blaine became an empty vessel for receiving God’s love, and God poured so much into him that it couldn’t stay all inside, just like in the Psalm of the Good Shepherd. My cup runneth over.

And the moment when the butterflies started—that had been a spiritual moment. It was a sign that Kurt was starting to bend a little. That he was seeing the flaws in his rigid orthodoxy. That maybe he was starting to understand that, while God was good and perfect, the church couldn’t be. It was led by mortal men like Blaine’s dad who were full of flaws. Not every word spoken by a prophet was gospel. Each member had to discern the truth for themselves with the help of the Holy Ghost, and sometimes it led in surprising directions.

So, yes. That was why Blaine’s stomach felt all mushy and flip-floppy. Because maybe, just maybe, Kurt was starting to love and trust himself as much as Blaine loved and trusted him.

“These are yeasted,” Kurt said after taking his fourth bite of cardamom roll. The first two bytes had been spent in perfect sugar-and-spice bliss, the third in buttery ecstasy, and now he could finally taste the bread beneath.

Blaine didn't respond. He kept chewing his own roll and stared out the window as if he hadn't heard.

“Blaine, are these yeasted?”

Blaine startled, his shoulders jerking slightly as he surfaced into awareness. “Sorry. I didn't hear you. What?”

Kurt repeated the question again.

“Oh, of course. That's why the gluten is so developed.”

Kurt did the backwards math in his head. They must have taken at least 30 minutes to bake; and with those intricate knots he wouldn't have been surprised if assembling them was a full 45 minutes; and then before that the dough would have had to rise for, what, an hour? None of that counted mixing everything together from scratch.

No wonder Blaine was being such a space cadet. “You must have been up for at least three hours.”

Blaine shrugged. “I lounged on the loveseat during the rise.”

“Still, Blaine. That's really early. And you didn't get to bed until after ten last night. Did something happen in your phone call to upset you?”

“Not—not really.” Blaine avoided eye contact. He took another roll from the pile and began unwinding the knot, revealing the caramelized stripes of sugar and spices on the inside.

Kurt didn't buy it. Something was going on. You didn't just wake up at two or three in the morning and bake until sunrise for no reason. But he also didn't think Blaine was trying to deceive him. Kurt suspected Blaine sometimes didn’t know his own emotions until they slapped him in the face. So many of the Mormons Kurt had met from out west seemed to think that anything other than pure, unadulterated joy was of the devil and needed to be suppressed.

So, fine. Blaine didn’t think he was upset. Kurt would let him have that. “Okay, then. How did your phone call go?”

“Oh, fine,” Blaine said. He reported a little of his conversation with Cooper and a little of his conversation with his mother. Apparently his mom was still hanging out with Tina, and Blaine seemed pleased by that.

“And your dad?” Kurt asked.

“Oh, he’s fine,” Blaine said with a grimace. “Busy with his callings as always.”

Kurt wanted to ask more. But he knew how sensitive a topic Blaine’s relationship with his dad was, and since Blaine was pretending not to be upset—Kurt didn't want to reopen old wounds by accident over breakfast. “Well, if you need to take a nap or anything, just let me know.”

Blaine raised an eyebrow. “Okay,” he said, setting his hands on the table like he was about to make some sort of pronouncement. “I had insomnia last night. But what happened to you?”

“What do you mean?” Kurt said innocently. But he knew exactly what Blaine meant.

“First, you imply that maybe the brethren aren't always right. And now you're saying it’s okay for missionaries to take naps even though the missionary handbook says not to?”

Kurt shrugged. He didn't know where to begin. It would be too much to call the Little White Bible philosophies of men mingled with Scripture. But wasn’t that exactly what it was? The Doctrine and Covenants advised awaking early each day, but it was mortal men who had decided that meant 6:30 a.m. and written it into the missionary handbook. And where did Scripture prohibit naps? “The missionary handbook offers wise guidance. But it’s not imperfect. Our Savior is wiser. And he said, ‘Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.’”

“I don't think he was talking about naps.”

“How can you be sure?”

Blaine napped for forty minutes during personal scripture study time. Any longer, and he would have gotten groggy. Besides, he didn't want to miss companionship study. It was his turn to lead, and he had received a very clear prompting in his abbreviated personal study that they needed to look at I document map Jesus Sermon on the Plains in Luke. He asked Kurt to read.

Everything was going smoothly until Kurt hit, “‘But if you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners love those who love them.’”

Kurt stopped and stared at the page. His mouth hung slightly open, as if he was so startled that he'd forgotten how to close it.

“Are you OK?” Blaine asked.

“Yeah.” Kurt nodded. “It just struck me in a different way than it has before. Here—” He cleared his throat. “‘And if you do good to those who do good to you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners do the same.’” Kurt stopped again. He leaned a little to the side in his chair, but his eyes didn't move from the page. “Huh,” he said thoughtfully.

“Okay, I think after the second cryptic pause, you have to tell me what you're thinking,” said Blaine. “That's one of the unwritten rules of companionship study.”

Kurt shook his head, not looking up from his scriptures. “I don't know what I'm thinking yet.” He didn’t resume reading out loud. His eyes seemed to be scanning over the same part of the page over and over again.

“You want me to take a turn?”

Kurt nodded.

Blaine read.

“Wait. Repeat that last part,” Kurt said after Blaine had read a few verses.

“‘But love your enemies, do good, and lend, hoping for nothing in return; and your reward will be great, and you will be sons of the Most High: for he is kind to the unthankful and evil.’”

“Oh.” Kurt said it with the force of someone who had just been punched.

Blaine waited to see if he was finally ready to say something, but Kurt just nodded for him to continue. So Blaine read the next verse. “‘Therefore be merciful, just as your Father also is merciful.’”

Kurt went pale. He lifted his hand to half-cover his mouth, and it was shaking.

“Kurt, are you okay?”

Kurt lowered his hand back down to the table and looked at Blaine. There were tears in his eyes. But he nodded. “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. It’s just—” He took a deep breath. “I can't believe I'm about to say this.”

Blaine had the urge to put his hand on top of Kurt’s, to rub the little patch of skin above his CTR ring until his fingers stopped trembling. But they still weren't touching, as far as Blaine knew. So he set his hand next to Kurt’s scriptures, putting it within easy reach in case Kurt decided this was the time to break the fast. Not because Blaine needed it—but because he wanted to be there however Kurt needed him. “Take as much time as you need,” Blaine said.

“Okay.” Kurt sniffed. “I just—everything they teach us in the scriptures is so that we can become like God, right?”

Blaine nodded.

“And Jesus said this. It's not like it was Paul or Timothy or someone who could misinterpret what was he was saying.”

“Right.”

“So, we’re commanded to love those who don't love us. To be kind to those who aren't kind to us. Because God is kind to people whether they're thankful or unthankful. God is kind whether we are good or evil. God is merciful to everyone.”

“Of course.”

“But— That’s not what the church teaches. The church teaches that God doesn’t have the power to show mercy. Because—because of the ordinances. Like, no matter how much somebody loves God, no matter how good they are, if they die without receiving the saving ordinances or having their name submitted to the temple so someone can do the ordinances on their behalf, they can’t get into the Celestial Kingdom. They’re separated from God for eternity because of a technicality.”

Blaine was not the kind of guy to worry about these technicalities. He trusted God to work it all out in the end. But Kurt cared about technicalities, and Blaine didn’t want him to worry. “Well, they can get their temple work done in the Millenium.”

“Yeah, but even then—I read somewhere that more than a hundred billion people have lived on the earth since humanity began. Are we really going to find every single name? And it's not just about the ordinances, anyway. There’s this article by Russell M. Nelson, I read it before coming on my mission and it’s always stuck with me. Here, it’s in the Gospel app—” Kurt picked up his phone and frantically tapped the screen. “Okay. This is what he says: ‘While divine love can be called perfect, infinite, enduring, and universal, it cannot correctly be characterized as unconditional. The word does not appear in the scriptures. On the other hand, many verses affirm that the higher levels of love the Father and the Son feel for each of us—and certain divine blessings stemming from that love—are conditional.’” Kurt sank back in his chair. He looked so . “This was written by an apostle. He’s supposed to be a special witness of Christ. And I don't want to speak ill of the Lord’s anointed. I never want to do that. And he’s right about the blessings. And he’s right that the word doesn’t actually appear in scriptures. But— but—” He set down the phone. He combed his hand through his hair.

Blaine waited.

Kurt fiddled with his CTR ring. He gazed at it for a long moment, then took a deep breath. “But he’s wrong about God’s love. Because maybe the word isn't there, but the fact of it is there. That's what all those other words put together mean. A God who loves everybody regardless of whether they do what he wants or they love him back—that God loves unconditionally.”

Kurt was leaning toward Blaine now, his eyes alight with holy passion, tears streaming down his face. And he was smiling. A radiant smile that hit Blaine right in the heart and made the presence of the Holy Ghost in the room almost palpable.

“And I hoped it was true and sometimes I felt it was true, but I didn’t dare think it was true. Like, I could convince myself that God loved me more than I thought possible, but I couldn't convince myself that God loves me no matter what. But … it’s true.”

His hand rested next to Blaine’s, almost touching, his pinky finger twitching toward Blaine's, then pulling back in a repeated loop.

It was time.

Blaine slid his hand over Kurt’s and felt his fingers relax, then his hand rotate so that they were now palm to palm. The contact seemed to push the Spirit right into Blaine’s flesh.

“Of course it’s true, Kurt,” Blaine said, because God loved Kurt infinitely more times than he did, and Blaine loved Kurt so much. In that moment, it didn't matter if he was in love with Kurt. What he knew for sure was that he felt just a hint of the glory of what it meant to be loved by God when he was around Kurt. He knew that God loved them both, just as they were.

And that was also how Blaine loved Kurt.

#mormon!klaine #wowbright writes fic #tan hands and tan lines #snarky's challenge: zigzag #klaine fic #my thatl #I skipped over a word oops #ah well #ample can wait

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lacheriecherry · 2 years

Text

Jellyfish and Flowers

APH Estonia Week Day 2: AU Flower Shop, Belgium, mention of DenEst, hints of NethBel (I headcanon they are not siblings)

Chap 3: Daffodils

Warning: mention of self-harm

He tried every day to hear from his father, but there was nothing. Day after day, Kalev had to deal with the dark emotions in his heart that always waited to take over his mind and drive him crazy. He seemed to live in a half-real, half-dream world of pain and sadness. All the things he saw, when he was awake or when he was sleeping, seemed to turn into a hazy fog or a thick gray mass. The people and scenery around him only made him think of his loved ones or caused him to burst into a frenzied rage that left him feeling empty or made him tremble in fear and sadness. He felt like he didn't belong here, he couldn't be here. He did not know how he would go. He just knew that he had to go. There were times when he was afraid that if he left, no one would be at home waiting for his father to return, the house filled with memories of his mother would be left unattended, and if he left, when letters from Matthias arrived, who would receive and keep them? But one day, a cold wind blew in his face shook him awake from his unconscious state. He realized that his feet had stepped halfway off the edge of an apartment building's rooftop. The void below was deep and dark. He didn’t know if he fell down, would it be a gentle relief or endless cold loneliness? He stepped back, collapsed on the ground, soaked with sweat even when this freezing Northern air was still burning the back of his throat. He looked down at his hands and wrists and suddenly noticed that there were faint cuts there, too. At that moment, he realized that he had no choice but to leave if he didn’t want to be driven crazy. If he was caught, he would probably die. But if he stayed here, he might as well die, die meaninglessly. At least if he died on the way, he knew he'd tried.

If Matthias had made it through the Iron Curtain and got here, he might as well escaped, though he didn't know exactly how Matthias did it. He put everything he found useful - not much, mainly his personal things - into one bag.

He left on an early summer morning, hoping that he could also let go of the unpleasant memories, like the way he left behind his house with its sunny terrace and beautiful little garden.

On his journey, there were many difficulties, but fortunately, nothing was too dangerous. He realized that many things he had known and seen before now appeared before his eyes differently. The darkness didn’t threaten him but protected him. When he lay down to rest, the soothing sounds of the woods sang to him and thousands of twinkling stars smiled at him, telling stories of so many years of history. At that moment, he felt as if his pain and sorrow suddenly disappeared. Sometimes he stayed up until dawn, watching the movements of the stars. The galaxy looks docile like a flock of sheep moving towards the other side of the planet. In the morning, the warm rays of the sun woke him up with warm kisses and the sound of the stream flowing with his footsteps. The farther he went, the lighter his heart became.

Kalev finally escaped through the Iron Curtain. The day he set foot on the land in the western part of the continent, he looked a lot thinner and tired. But at least now he felt like he’d come back to life, as his heart beat faster and his eyes could see things more clearly.

He decided to buy train tickets to go as far as possible. When he reached the western edge of Germany, he decided to walk to save money. Every day he would randomly choose a route and then kept on walking until he was tired. Many times he strayed from one side of the city to the other, sometimes he even crossed the border of provinces. Every so often, when Kalev felt tired, he leaned back on the bench of an empty park, intending to stay here until someone discovered him and asked him if he needed some help. But he didn’t have the mood for dealing with anyone, especially the police. Besides, he's always been like that. He never wanted others to see his weakness, even though deep down he was yearning for even the smallest gesture of care.

Nearly a month after a series of aimless wandering days, he came to a small street that was separated from the crowded part of the main street. In the late afternoon, the autumn sun was shining. The sunlight looked like honey that poured over the ground, dragging Kalev’s shadow along the gently sloping cobblestone road. This place was so quiet and deserted. It was different from all the bustling cities he had ever set foot in. It made Kalev feel like he had just stepped into another world. His feet suddenly stopped in front of a lovely shop, a flower shop. That small building had the usual Western European architectural style, modestly nestled among the surrounding houses. He stood dumbfounded by its beauty: The shop was painted in an elegant cream color, its roof was covered with a red and white striped storefront awning. The shop was marked with a mix of wildflowers and garden-grown florals both cut and potted plants, as evidenced by the beautiful overgrowth spilling from the front of the shop. There was a large oval window next to the door and through it, he could take a look inside. Radiant alabaster walls and vintage tiled floors gleam with natural sunlight and serve as the most beautiful backdrops for the curated floral forest. As far as he could see, there was nothing in the shop but plants and flowers. There were delicately detailed blooms and botanicals spilling out onto every available surface. The flowers with all the colors of the world were interspersed with each other, arranged so artfully they evoked feelings of old Dutch Masters. From graceful roses to faithful lavender, from small and lovely white baby’s breath to big and bright sunflowers, from brilliant tulips to gentle cosmos flowers, ... They all fluttered slightly in the wind, making him imagine that someone had used magic to tie all the colors of the rainbow and force them to stay here. However, he did not have much knowledge about plants, he only knew a few popular flowers. What caught his attention the most was the shop's name. It was printed in purple braille, attached directly to the wall: "Jellyfish".

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Writing a long fic is more tired than I thought :/

Link to the previous chapters:

Chap 1

Chap 2

#aph estonia #hws estonia #apheeweek #fanfiction

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bluebellhairpin · 4 years

Text

The Perfect Plan

Masquerade / Medieval AU!Levi Ackerman X Fem!Reader

A/N: So some wanted this, some didn’t specify, I had motivation, and @miss-consulting-timelord wanted to be tagged, so here we are. - Nemo

Summary: While you may not have known the mysterious man at the masquerade last night when everyone else did, you find out he was one of the only people there who knew who you were.

Listening to: This version of ‘Sky Full of Stars’ by Coldplay on Youtube - ‘You get lighter the more it gets dark, I'm gonna give you my heart.’

Part One - ‘The Perfect Partner’

Masterlist

You groaned awake, twisting around in the bedsheets in a feeble effort to chase sleep before it completely left you. But your mind went to other places before you could be successful.

The man you met last night at the masquerade - he was no mere man. He was important. He wasn’t just a royal - not in the way you were, or that of any others Historia had introduced you to last night.

He was a Crown Prince.

He was to sit a ceremony to become King of Germany in less than a month.

Naturally, you'd heard of the Ackerman's - anyone in higher society who hadn't been living under a rock had - so when Levi asked you your opinion of them (before revealing who he was, mind you) you were still a little apprehensive to give your proper answer. Too ‘mean’ and you'd come off like a snob, too ‘nice’ and you'd look like a bootlicker. You didn't like the prospects of either, but being around Levi made you feel something you were too used to suppressing.

He made you want to tell the truth - brutal and honest. But tact - that was something you were always good at.

"They do their job - as being the monarchs of their country - just like everyone else. Therefore, just like everyone else, I'm sure they have things they’re good at, and things to improve on too."

"What things?" He asked, barely missing a beat after you finished.

"Well," you said, letting out a shy laugh, "I can't really say, nor am I in a place to judge. I'm afraid I have yet to meet any of them, but in what perfect world do we live in that they or I do not have something to improve about ourselves?"

He soon after revealed who he was, and the relocation of it now made you turn back over and bury your face in your pillow.

Who were you to have said something like that to someone like him? It was a masquerade, of course there were people there of higher rank than you that you wouldn’t recognize. You felt so insanely stupid.

Rising from the confines of your bed, or the bed that was being kindly lent to you by Historia - you weren’t quite fit to travel last night - you wandered over to the window. It was a habit of yours to always look outside when you woke, even if most days the brightness of the sun made you feel blind.

“Oh good, you’re awake.” A voice behind you called. You turned around to face them in time to see a woman close the door behind her, a swathe of baby blue fabric in her arms. “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to wake you, and here you are. Dreams do come true.”

You turned back to the window, looking across the gardens and to the city in the distance. It looked much different in the daylight. Then you caught yourself.

“My apologies, I should’ve introduced myself, I’m -”

“- Lady (y/n).” the woman smiled, “Her Ladyship told me much about you. You’re held in very high regard by her you know.” You couldn’t help but feel flustered at her comment.

“So everyone keeps telling me.” you said, picking at the hem of the nightgown you were lent.

“But here,” she gestured to the fabric, which now being draped over a chair was recognizable as a dress, “Her Ladyship sent this in for you, hopefully it fits. She also requests you join her for breakfast.”

“Oh, thank you …”

“- Nanaba.” She smiled. “There’s a screen over there, when you need some help just let me know. I’ll be right out here. Then I’ll take you down to eat.”

───────✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰✧.｡:✱───────

The dress fit very well. Considering it wasn’t made for you, you could easily let the slight tightness, and looseness in certain places slide. It wasn't like it looked bad on you because of it.

Before going down to breakfast, Nanaba helped you tidy your hair. You insisted she didn’t need to - you weren’t planning on having it held back or done up fancy - but you did have to admit, having someone play around with your hair did feel nice.

She walked you through the golden halls, down the cold staircases, out a pair of giant glass doors, and along a stone footpath through the garden to a summer house.

Servants scuttled about, and standing at attention on either side of the entrance were pairs of knights - Eren and Mikasa were two of them. In the centre of the house was a table, set up with - in your opinion - far too much food. Jumping to attention when you caught her eye, was Historia.

“Good morning! How’d you sleep? I hope you slept well, the bed wasn’t too bad I hope.” She blabbered, and then was interrupted by a cough from the other end of the table. She turned over to the source, then smiled and guided you over to a chair - yours, supposedly - and then fluttered back to her own. “And I doubt I need to do introductions, again.”

You then decided to look over at the other guest - who was none other than Levi.

You felt yourself get flustered all over again, completely forgetting the proper courtesy, and only thinking about how you’d ignored him up until you sat down - a generalized no-no.

“Stop fretting, (y/n),” he said, setting down his teacup, “Just because we’re in the daylight and now have company doesn’t mean I expect you to treat me differently.”

You took in a semi-deep breath, steadying your hands in your lap, and smiled over at him.

“You’re right. I apologize.”

“So,” Historia said, folding her hands under her chin, “I didn’t see either of you after you left the ballroom last night. Where’d you go?” she asked.

Little did she know, you both didn’t do anything much else except talk, and maybe steal another dance or two. But the most exciting part of the night was spying her sneak away with a tall brunette woman. Which was closely followed by catching yourselves in your hiding place, standing a little too close to be called ‘appropriate’. She didn’t need to know the latter, the former, however …

“Oh, nothing much really,” you said, “But I never even dreamed about the things you see in the gardens at night.” Her face fell so slightly, turning to eye Levi, and a smile drew on your face.

Levi hummed. “Yes, those things can stay in the dark.” He was looking right at you. Yet, you didn’t know what that meant. There was something he was trying to tell you in those grey eyes of his, and you just couldn’t understand.

───────✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰✧.｡:✱───────

There was something about gardens. The life they held in them.

Lush greenery, blooming flowers, the cool water fountains, and trees with their wispy leaves. In gardens as big as this, there was always something new in them, no matter what season. And now, on a warm, perfect spring day, it was as alive as ever.

Originally, when you’d stood to excuse yourself for your walk, Nanaba offered to keep you company, but Levi soon dismissed her, saying he’d go with you instead. And so he did.

Much like last night, he had your hand resting in the crook of his elbow, and had his fingers laced with yours.

How someone could make you feel so comfortable and safe after a few dances and a night's talk, you’d never know, but you would know it was possible.

“I’m sorry.’ he said suddenly. You looked over at him, pouting in confusion.

“What for?” You couldn’t help the lump that formed in your throat as your mind started to race. What if he didn’t want to speak to you again? What if he thought overnight and figured someone as lowly as you wasn’t worth a Prince’s time? What if -

“I’m sorry for last night,” he said, squeezing your hand, and pulled away to step aside and face you. “You have a kind heart, and I feel like I shocked you with who I really was.” He hesitated again before continuing. “And, still, I’m not completely honest with you.”

“L- .... Levi, you’re going to have to explain a little more. I really don’t understand what you mean.’

“The history between the royal families of France and Germany has thus far been close. I’ve known Princess Historia as long as you have. She’s told me a lot about you.”

He told you last night that she never mentioned you.

“And with every word she wrote about you, to me I wanted to know more. I wanted to meet you. Now that I have, I have to say I’m disappointed. Because you’re so much better, here, in front of me, than words she wrote on paper about you.”

───────✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰✧.｡:✱───────

“What do you think they’re talking about?”

“I dunno. It’s been a while though. A good fifteen minutes, huh?” The tall blond looked down at his redheaded companion. She smiled at him.

“Oh, do you think he’s confessing his undying love?” Isabel said, fluttering her eyelashes at him and holding her hands to her metal-covered chest. Furlan sighed, his hand resting on his sword hilt, and the other draping across her shoulders.

“That wouldn’t be like him. They’re just met.”

“Oh my - look!” Historia squealed - yet still very quietly - bounding over to the house's edge and pointed over their shoulders to where you and Levi stood. “I knew it!”

“Oh my -” Isabel had a too-large grin.

“- god.” and Furlan’s jaw was to the floor.

Levi - ‘I’ll probably die alone because I’m so old and an obsession with cleanliness’ - Ackerman, was being kissed by you. And he was kissing you back.

“Okay,” Isabel said, “You owe me, because I’m pretty sure now you know that he’s gonna bang before we both die.”

#masquerade au #medieval au #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman one shot #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan one shot

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stillbandofbrothersthirsty · 3 years

Text

As Far As Friends Go

This was kind of a transition chapter so cred’s to the show for the dialogue I used. But buckle up, shits really gonna go down next chapter.

Chapter 14 (Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3; Chapter 4; Chapter 5; Chapter 6; Chapter 7; Chapter 8; Chapter 9; Chapter 10; Chapter 11; Chapter 12; Chapter 13)

Nixon - June 1944

The drop into Normandy was perilous. Just as Nixon had feared, nothing seemed to go as planned. It was as if the Germans were waiting for them to arrive based off of how much fire they experienced. Nixon, like most of the men, missed his drop zone but he was lucky enough to quickly link up with Battalion headquarters. It was a chaotic couple of first days in France as the airborne got situated in relation to the troops on the beach. Early into their arrival, Winters and the available Easy Company men took down some German guns. This not only saved a number of lives on the beaches but produced a map detailing German artillery positions. Looking at it, Nixon realized how important it could be. It couldn’t wait, so he decided to run to Utah beach to hand the map over to the higher ups who could do something with it. The run to Utah was only three miles, no worse than he had experienced during training. He was grateful though that Command decided to send the first two tanks that landed in to aid the 101st, thus providing Nixon with a ride.

He greeted Winters with a cheeky smile when he returned to the assembly area. “Going my way?”

Winters tossed his gun up for Nixon to catch, “sure.”

The men bunkered down for the night, scrounging for what food and beds they could find. The Battalion was on the move by June 8th on their way to take Carentan. As according to plan, the 101st forced passage into Carentan on June 10th and 11th. The days were hot and muggy, barely cooling down at night for the men dressed in heavy uniforms and equipment. Bugs were everywhere and exhaustion was setting in. Finally, they encountered the Germans. On June 12th the German’s were forced to withdraw and it seemed like victory was theirs. But Nixon was suspicious. Surely the Germans wouldn’t give up such an important position so easily; and he was right. On June 13th the 17th SS PzG Division counter-attacked. Thankfully, the U.S. 2nd Armored Division came in for support.

When Nixon returned to Battalion headquarters with news of their victory he found that Emily had finally arrived.

“Emily!” he wanted nothing more than to hug her in that moment. The last week had been exhausting. It was such a comfort to see her.

“Miss me?” she grinned up at him. Her smile was like a shot of morphine, he immediately felt his muscles relax. “You look a mess,” she shook her head.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, we’ve only been taking Carentan.”

“Congratulations,” she said, “did you like the tanks I sent you?”

Nixon looked at her flabbergasted. Then slowly, through the haze of his fatigue, he realized she was messing with him. “Ha ha. It would’ve been impressive if you had.”

“Yeah I wish, unfortunately I’m not that powerful yet.”

Nixon slung his arm around her neck, “no but I bet you know where to find me some food.”

Despite his exhaustion, Nixon didn’t sleep well those final weeks in Normandy. Instead, his alcohol intake increased. He had to re-fill his flask every day, sometimes topping it off throughout the day. He would need to replenish his stores soon. But no one anticipated how long they would actually be fighting in Normandy. In fact, the 101st had expected to be relieved much sooner. Strayer kept asking for patrols as the allies attempted to inch their way closer and closer to Germany.

Twenty-five days after D-Day Nixon was sent out on a patrol with Harry Welsh. It was a reconnaissance mission so Nixon was required to go. What they were looking for he wasn’t sure. The regiment had exhausted their knowledge of the German’s position in the area so any new piece of information could serve as an advantage.

Nixon peered through a pair of binoculars from where he and Welsh sat in the brush approximately 100 yards from a run down building. “We need to know what’s in there,” Nixon said.

“I don’t know who the hell to send,” Welsh said.

 “Ask for volunteers.”

“I hate asking for volunteers.”

Nixon gave Welsh a pointed look, “then pick them.”

Blithe, Martin, and Dukeman moved in towards the abandoned manor. The rest of the paratroopers sat hidden in the grass behind Nixon. As they waited for Blithe and the others to get into position Nixon spotted something poking out of Welsh’s backpack.

 “Harry, what exactly are you doing with your reserve chute? You been hauling that thing around since we jumped?”

Welsh sucked his teeth, slightly embarrassed he said, “gonna send it to Kitty when we get back to England. Silk, figure it’ll make a good wedding dress, ya know, what with the rationing and all.”

Nixon broke view of where the trio was moving in towards the manor to laugh at Welsh, “jeez Harry, I never would’ve guessed.”

“What? That I’m so sentimental?”

“No, that you think we’re going to make it back to England.” Nixon peered through his binoculars again. His mind flashed to Emily as he watched the men crouch down behind an upturned cart. Bad news, he thought. He had suspected for a while now that Emily may have feelings for Welsh, a man who clearly was intending on marrying his betrothed. No matter how much he flirted, Welsh wouldn’t have bothered lugging that extra chute around if he wasn’t serious about Kitty. Bad news for Emily. Suddenly, a shot rang out.

“Covering fire! Covering fire!” Welsh shouted. Martin and Dukeman pulled a downed Blithe back behind the line. They passed Nixon who saw the blood gushing from the young man’s throat before Doc Roe got to him.

“Cease fire! Cease fire!” Welsh commanded.

Winters moved up from behind, “what happened?”

“Sniper,” Nixon said coming up to him.

Winters couldn’t take his eyes off the bleeding Blithe, “they’re pulling us off the front line.”

“Now?” Nixon demanded.

Winters turned to him, “to a field camp north of Utah beach. Hot food, and showers.”

With a last mournful look at Blithe, Nixon turned away to head back. Great fucking timing, he raged to himself.

Emily was at the camp surrounded by intelligence staff and nurses, who were busy at work tending the masses of wounded men.

 “Nix?” her voice was gentle when he entered the intelligence tent.

“Couldn’t have let us know a little bit sooner? Sent the runner just a few minutes earlier?” he demanded.  

“What are you talking about?”

“We were on a patrol and some kid is probably gonna lose his life because that information came a few minutes too late! I sent them in there, I told them to check it out but turns out we didn’t need to!” Nixon pounded his fist on one of the tables.

“Lewis I didn’t know, that information didn’t come from me.”

“You’re intelligence staff! You’re meant to know!”

“I’m not intelligence staff like you are! I’m no S-2,” Emily shouted back, “no one tells me anything!”

Nixon paced the room trying to calm down, “okay, okay,” he leveled his hands on the desk, “I’m sorry. I just -,”

“It’s fine, I’m sorry too,” Emily stood across the table from him, looking small in the dim light of the tent. “I do know one thing,” she said. He looked up, waiting for her to continue, “we’re going back to England.”

“Right, great.” And he stormed out of the tent onto the beach.

His insomnia didn’t improve even knowing that they were going back to a relatively safe zone. It was impossible to sleep with the sounds of men crying out all around and bodies held together by gauze and tape only paces away. Naturally, the night before they were meant to leave, Nixon couldn’t sleep. He grabbed his flask and made his way towards the dunes on the far side of the camp.

He plopped down on a ridge into a bed of marsh grass, the coarse tendrils tickling his wrists and neck. Nixon closed his eyes and inhaled. The whiskey he had guzzled earlier that night had seeped pleasingly through his veins. The summer air blew across the salty water cooling the sweat where it pooled around his collarbone and lower back. It was so peaceful. If it weren’t for the peppering of tents barely visible against the night sky, Nixon could have pretended he was there on holiday and not for a war.

When he opened his eyes, he saw a lean figure making its way up the dune towards him. Nixon braced himself for the quiet wisdom of Winters. However, the figure failed to grow as it approached him, only reaching a height of about 5′5″. The silhouette revealed itself to be Emily, dressed in another pair of slightly oversized O.D.s.

“What?” Nixon barked at her.

“I saw you pass by,” Emily dropped down beside him, bumping his arm on her way down. Disgruntled, Nixon scooted over slightly.

“Why aren’t you asleep?”

“Why aren’t you?” Emily retorted.

“Couldn’t.”

  “Same here.”

Quiet fell between them, a comfortable quiet but Nixon could sense Emily wanted to say more. Finally, her lips parted and she said, “it’s not something you can get over.”

“What?”  

“Seeing the men like that.” Emily searched his face in the dark for any reaction. Nixon stared straight ahead. “It’s disturbing and not something anyone should ever have to witness.”

Nixon licked his lips to speak, but all that came out was, “yeah.”

Emily paused, then reached for his flask. She pulled it from his grasp and took a swig, “It’s over for now. We have to find comfort in that.”

“Right, some comfort in that,” he took the flask back for another drink. They sat there side by side listening to the waves crash against the shoreline. As the night waned on, Emily began to doze off. Her head fell to rest on his shoulder. Nixon considered waking her to walk her back to her tent but then decided against it. He didn’t want to disturb her. If she woke up now who knew if she would be able to fall asleep again. Besides, he enjoyed sharing a little sliver of the world with her in that moment. A sliver that was simple and not perverted by violence.

When the sun rose, she stirred and they both made their way back to their tents for a desperate last few hours of sleep before they were to ship off. As Nixon was boarding the ship he saw Emily standing on the Mulberry harbor hugging a dark, thin woman dressed in a nurses uniform. The woman brushed wild hairs away from Emily’s forehead then pressed something into her hand. Nixon couldn’t help but wonder what that exchange had been about. Out of curiosity, he met Emily at the gangway.   “Who was that?” he asked.

“Hm?” Emily pulled a paper wrapped candy out of her pocket.

“Who was that woman you were talking to? A nurse?”

“Oh yeah, that’s my friend Marwa.”

“I didn’t know you had female friends.”

Emily rolled her eyes and popped the candy into her mouth.

“What was that?” Nixon pointed to her mouth.

“Ginger candy, you want one?” Emily offered him a candy and Nixon accepted, beginning to feel like his old self again standing next to her.

#band of brothers #fanfiction #original character #as far as friends go #lewis nixon x oc #emily rooney #lewis nixon #harry welsh #dick winters #female cartographers #females in ww2

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sapphirelass · 3 years

Text

What family is all about - Weasley FamilyxWeasley!Sister

Hiiiiiii!!! It’s... been a while. Again. Let’s face it, I’ll never be able to post as often as I’d like. I just don’t like rushing stuff, or posting anything I’m not happy with, so...

Anyhow, I LOVED writing for the Weasley family, and I’ll most likely do it again soon. Bill and Charlie are both underrated characters in my opinion and I had a ton of fun letting them ‘shine’ (despite this being a sort of sad story, but that always seems to be where I end up... XD)

Also, I might have to edit this once more, but it’s late, I have not posted in about two weeks and I just want to go to sleep XD That being said, take it for what it is, and I’ll try to correct any grammatical errors later. Good night! <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Please note:

1: I don’t own any of the gifs used, nor any already established characters, so credit to the authors and original creators - You have done a phenomenal job :)

2: English is not my native language, as I was born and raised in Sweden. I have, however, studied English for almost a decade, so I don’t think it’ll be a problem, I just thought I’d let you know ;)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Word count: ≈ 2800 (they just keep getting longer, don’t they? XD)

Warnings: Light swearing, blood, angst

Enjoy! :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That’s what family is all about

“How big did his tongue get?”

“It was four feet long before his parents would let me shrink it!”

The sound of laughter was heard from the kitchen as Elwira Weasley entered her childhood home. She worked as an arithmancer, and had been stationed at a research-facility in the northern parts of Sweden for the past few years. Her work took up most of her time, but she had just travelled home to go see the quidditch final with her dad, older brother Bill, twin brother Charlie and all their younger siblings.

“It isn’t funny”, her dad shouted. “That sort of behaviour seriously undermines wizard-muggle relations! I spend half my life campaigning against the mistreatment of muggles, and my own sons-”

“Are just a wee bit too daft to understand that!”

She walked through the door and found her entire family, plus two other people she didn’t know, all sitting or standing around the kitchen table.

“Ellie?!”

Her older brother and twin, with whom she had always been extremely close, both made their way across the room and pulled her into a hug so tight she could barely breathe.

“Blimey! ‘ello Bill, hey Charlie! Long time no see, huh?”

“Certainly!”, their mother exclaimed while pushing the two oldest sons to the side as she tried to get a good look at her grown-up daughter. “Not a single visit since Christmas, Elwira Weasley, we’ve had to do with owls for six months?!”

“Sorry, mum, there’s been a lot of work to do… I thought I’d stay for the rest of the summer though, if that’s okay with you?”

“Of course, dear! Have you eaten yet?”

“No, I’m famished!”

Mrs Weasley went off to get another plate, and Ellie, after greeting everyone and being introduced to Harry and Hermione, took a seat between her dad and youngest brother.

“So Ronald? Had a good term?”

“Err.. Sure? Nothing interesting except for the stuff I wrote to you about, though.”

“Well you’re going into your fourth year now - almost halfway through!” She paused for a moment and turned to her father. “You good dad? You seem a bit… tense?”

Arthur looked up from his plate and sent his daughter a kind smile.

“Don’t worry about it, darling. Hosting the world cup comes with a great deal of problems all with the need to be solved. Admittedly, it’s not really part of my job, but the entire ministry becomes quite chaotic when something like that is days away. I’m a bit stressed, that’s all. How are things up in Scandinavia?”

“They’re… somewhat slow to be honest. There’s so much work to do between like October and February, but in the summer it’s mostly filing and other boring bits of paperwork.”

“Elwira?”, Hermione asked. “Sorry, I’m just curious, what is it that you do? Ron’s never told us…”

“That’s probably cause Ron doesn’t understand what I’m doing”, she smirked, “but of course, I work with, and study, arithmancy which, as you might know, is part of what’s called ‘natural magic’.”

“Great!”, mumbled Ron quietly, making sure only his friends and older sister heard. “Hermione, there are four rules in this house, okay? One: Don’t ask Charlie about dragons, Two: Don’t ask Percy about anything, Three: Don’t ask dad about muggles, and Four: Don’t ask Ellie about her job. Break either and you’ll be stuck listening to a five hour lecture.”

Hermione didn’t seem to be bored though, so Ellie ignored her brother’s comment and continued.

“It’s the type of magic that has been studied and worshiped since ancient times and has a very strong connection with nature. The natural phenomena with the strongest affiliation with magic is, while they in themselves have what the muggles would call a ‘scientific explanation’, the northern lights. Meaning it’s only when they’re visible that we can make any significant progress.”

Ellie paused and glanced at the younger girl, trying to see whether she had caught on or not, and was happy when realizing that she had.

“And... “, questioned Hermione, “the northern lights are only visible north of the polar circle and b-”

“Between September and March, exactly… Meaning there’s sadly not that much advanced research that can be done during the rest of the year…”

“It’s still a fascinating subject though. I only started last year, but I love it.”

“I’m glad! At least some people appreciate the wonderful art that is arithmancy, Ronald!”

Ron looked up at the mention of his name and met his sister’s gaze.

“I just don’t find it interesting”, he said.

“Right, because you ha-”

Ellie didn’t get to finish her sentence before being interrupted by her twin brother.

“Hey, Ellie? Must have been fun watching the Nordic versus Germany, huh?”

“Oh shut up, Charlie!”, she groaned while putting her head in her hands. “Holy Merlin…” The Nordic National Quidditch team, of which she had become a huge supporter in the last few years, had suffered a HORRENDOUS loss against Germany, and it had certainly not been a fun night.

Her brother, however, did not shut up, but instead burst out laughing.

“Charlie, it’s not funny!! You should have been there though… You’d have done a much better job than the stand-in seeker we had.”

“What were the results again? 700-20?”

“... 520 actually”

“520 to??”, Bill said mockingly

“You’re idiots both of you… 520-0, happy now?”

Ellie hadn’t realized that everyone else around the table had been listening in on their conversation, but was made aware when Fred, George, Harry, Ron, Ginny and Arthur began laughing loudly.

“Why is this so funny to everyone? England lost badly too, and neither Romania nor Egypt even qualified to compete?!”

“Yeah...”, began Fred.

“But none of them lost with 520 points.”, finished George, earning himself a furious look from his older sister who stood up and shook her head.

“I’ll go see if mum needs any help…”

~~~~~~

Ellie loved her family, and therefore all her slightly annoying brothers, beyond everything, but being away from them for months and then meeting them all at the same time was TIRING! Having no desire to sleep through the world cup, she decided to go to bed early the night before, and she had barely closed her eyes before she fell asleep...

~~~~~~

“3, 2 ‘shhhh, quiet!”

Ellie took notice of the obnoxiously loud whispers, but it wasn’t enough to fully wake her up.

“We’ve got one more chance, 3, 2, 1, ELLIE!!!!”

She woke up instantly and sent a blast of blue sparks towards her older brother, barely missing him by an inch.

“What ‘ru doing, El? You can’t just go attacking people?!”

He tried to sound angry, but failed miserably, a heartwarming laugh escaping his mouth.

“You bloody idiots?! Why’d you scare me like that? You’re 21 and 23, not five?”

“Brings back memories, doesn’t it? Do you remember-”

“Yes, I do!”. She rubbed her eyes slowly, “‘85, look can you two please let me sleep?”

“Sorry, sis”, said Bill. “We’re leaving in half an hour. The kids and dad left ages ago.”

“Yeah, you don’t want to be late do you? Not when you can cheer for a team that might not loo-”

“Charlie, I swear!”

~~~~~~

The match was fantastic! Ellie would never admit it to her brothers, but it was nice to watch an even one for once. Watching and cheering with her family brought back fond memories of childhood games at the Burrow or Hogwarts, and she realized just how much she had missed actually playing. They stayed up late discussing players and tactics, but eventually their father ushered them all off to bed.

~~~~~~

“Ellie?”

“Ellie??”

She stirred slightly and pulled the sleeping bag tighter around her.

“Ellie! Damn it, wake up!”

She opened her eyes slowly and saw her twin brother bent above her. The sight made her sigh.

“Charlie”, she mumbled. “We see each other once- or twice a year nowadays, do you really feel obligated to wake me up every time you get the chance?”

“Elwira, I’m serious! Get up!”

This caught her attention. Sure, the twins often used their full names when messing with each other, but it didn’t sound like Charlie was joking at all. She sat up, rubbed the sleep from her eyes and yawned loudly.

“What’s going on? Wha- Charlie? It’s still dark out? Why’d yo-”

“Ellie, c’mon. We have to help dad. Someone’s attacking the muggles.”

He threw his sister a jacket and pulled her out of the tent. Arthur, Bill and Percy were all waiting outside.

“Dad?”, she asked. “What’s happening? Charlie sai-”

“We’ve got to help the ministry!”, he said while frantically trying to count everyone and make sure they were there. “Fred, George, you make sure the others are safe. Go wait in the woods and I’ll come for you when the situation’s under control. Bill, Charlie, Percy, Ellie, let’s see if there’s something we can do.”

Nobody questioned Mr Weasley’s instructions, and immediately left in different directions. There were people everywhere though, and the two directions quickly became three, four, six. Spells and curses were fired left, right and centre and Ellie found herself disarming and stunning at least a few death eaters. There weren’t that many of them, roughly thirty or so, but the insane amount of witches and wizards fleeing the campsite made it difficult to fight back. She couldn’t risk hitting any random bloke.

While duelling a tall man in a black mask, Ellie suddenly stumbled forward, a particularly nasty curse having hit her straight in the back. Falling to the ground felt way more painful than it should have, and her wand landed well beyond her reach. She groaned as a burning pain spread through her lower back, but made an effort to get back up anyways. She did, however, not make it very far before the sharp end of a wand dug into her throat.

The death eater behind her sniggered and pulled her up by the collar of her shirt.

“Well, well, well… Why’re you trying to ruin our fun?”

He stood way too close for comfort and Ellie felt his breath on her neck. She tried to answer, but the curse that was shot at her must have hit its intended target, as all that came out when she opened her mouth was a strained cough and warm blood.

The bloke holding her let out a dark chuckle and threw her to the ground. She could barely keep her eyes open, and a thick, red liquid oozed from the wound in her back.

“Not so high-and-mighty now, are we?”

Ellie lacked the strength to fight back, and to the death eaters that seemed to take all the fun out of the situation. They set off back towards the campsite, leaving Ellie on the ground next to a few pines. She tried her very best to sit up, but ended up passing out…

~~~~~~

“Charlie?!”

Bill ran up to his younger brother and pulled him in for a quick, one-armed hug.

“Charlie, you okay? We’ve got to get back to the tent. Where’s El?”

“Wha-, I-I thought she was with you?!?”

“What? Last I saw her you were together?”

The brothers shared a lock of utter terror.

“Bill, we have to find her!”

“I know… Dad went to get the kids and Percy’s back in the tent waiting.”

“There’s no time to waste then. Let’s go”

~~~~~~

They had been running around the camping grounds for half an hour, and there was still not a trace of a living soul - let alone the special one they were searching for. At first, they had been shouting her name at the top of their lungs, but were now walking silently. That was, at least, until a shout made both of them turn around.

“Bill! Charlie! What are you doing? I told you to stay in the tent?”

Arthur Weasley came running towards them, with Harry, Ron and Hermione following close behind.

“Dad!”, Charlie shouted. “Have you seen El? We can’t find her?”

“What?”, asked Arthur. “But she was with you, wasn’t she?”

“Yes, at first, but we must have gotten separated… Dad, is that? You know?”

He threw a dark glance at the skull and snake decorating the night sky and said, “Yes. Yes it is. Look, I’ll take Ron, Hermione and Harry back to the tent, and I’ll meet you back here in ten minutes, okay? Don’t go too far. Come on kids!”

~~~~~~

Just as the brothers were about to give up, go back to the clearing, wait for their dad and hopefully find both their sisters safe and sound, Bill noticed something. A glimpse of red in the moonlight…

“Charlie? Get over here fast!”

The younger brother followed Bill’s gaze and immediately set off through the forest when his eyes found a mess of ginger hair sticking out from behind a rather large pine. Bill followed closely behind.

“ELLIE!!!?!!”

Charlie stumbled to his knees and turned his sister around, trying to get a better look at her. He pressed his hand to her wrist and breathed a sigh of relief when he found a pulse.

“She’s alive”, he mumbled. “Bill, she’s alive!”

“Good. I- Good.” Bill was lost for words too and mumbled a quick “Let me see”.

He pushed some hair out of her eyes and searched for any clues to what had hit her. He was a curse-breaker after all, but that usually meant working with curses placed on things or places, not people.

“Charlie, I-I don’t know what that is… it’s not a curse I’m familiar with and I’m no healer… You want to carry her?”

“Of course”

Charlie brought his twin into his arms and picked her up, her bruised, limp body threatening to fall unless he held on tight enough. The brothers walked back to the clearing where they’d promised to meet their dad, but kept a close watch on their sister. They would apparate, though at the moment none of them felt like they had much time for ‘Deliberation’. It wasn’t very far anyways.

~~~~~~

“DAD!”, Bill shouted as soon as they noticed Arthur in the clearing where they were supposed to wait.

“Boys! Didn’t I tell you t-”

“We’ll take that later, Dad, you’ve got to help her!?”

Arthur Weasley was speechless, which had most likely never happened before, and Charlie felt so helpless. This was worse than his worst nightmares, and there was nothing he could do. Had it been a wounded dragon, sure, he knew loads about them, but this?

“Dad?”, asked Bill. “What can we do?”

“Right. Er… I suppose there’s no use trying to get you to wait here?”, he said while looking at Charlie who frantically shook his head. “Right, Bill could you go back to Percy and the kids? Fill them in on what happened? Then Charlie and I’ll take Ellie to St Mungos, okay?”

Bill didn’t look too happy with the idea, but nodded nonetheless.

---

“Charlie sit down!”

“Fred, he can’t”, said George. “Hey, I think you missed a spot over there, Charles”

“Shut it both of you! Honestly, why am I the only one that’s worried?”

Arthur stood up and put an arm around his son.

“Listen, we’re all worried, but walking back and forth isn’t helping anyone. Just sit for a moment, huh?”

“No, dad, you don’t understand! It’s my fault. We were supposed to stick together! I let her out of my sight...I-”

“Charlie, we all-”

“No, Bill, you don’t get it either, I should-”

“-let your sister sleep for once? That’d be greatly appreciated, thank you.”

The entire family turned at once, and found the oldest daughter struggling to sit up.

“EL!!”

Charlie stumbled over and put a hand on his sister’s back, trying to help her up, but unfortunately placing it right where the curse had hit her.

“Auch!”

She moved away from his touch and he pulled his hand back immediately.

“Blimey, Ellie I’m so s-”

“Charlie, it’s good. Don’t worry about it.”

Ellie pulled her brother into a hug, though he was now extremely careful, and she looked over his shoulder at the rest of her family. Her eyes met Bill’s and he sent her a kind smile. She gestured for him to come join them, and eventually the whole family found themselves in a loving group hug. Molly did her very best to wrap her arms around all her children, desperately trying to convince herself that they were all there - safe and sound and loved.

Because if there was one thing the Weasleys had a lot of, it was love and that is, after all, precisely what family is all about.

~ L

Masterlist

#weasley family imagine #bill weasley x sister #charlie weasley x sister #harry potter imagine #weasleys x sister #HP #hp one shot #Goblet of Fire #quidditch #arthur weasley x daughter #creative writing #writing #hp fan fic #harry potter fan fiction #weasley siblings #weasleys x daughter

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ghoulfriendfam · 4 years

Text

Shane Madej X Reader

College Bookshop AU!!

Summary: You are in college and for the past eight months you have been wrapped up reading books from a mysterious recommender that is only identified as “S” in your look bookstore. You have been trying to piece together who “S” is for month to no avail- but when you meet a handsome and helpful sales clerk you think you might have found your man!

Part 1 of 5 ; Part 2 (I will link the updates as they come out!)

You woke up at the sound of your alarm. It was six am- which wasn’t any cause for excitement- but it was also Friday. Fridays were the best days. Fridays were when a new book would appear on that certain aisle, beyond the landing of the second floor of Calypso’s Bookstore, cradled within the wire holder that said “Recommendations ~ S” in chalk letters.

“S” you always had liked how that letter was turned, not quite cursive but not quite print either. It was crookedly curved and yet- yet at the same time it was perfect.

Imaginative? Artsy? Creative?

It was crazy how easy it was to attach a personality to that “S”- to someone you didn’t even know. You see Calypso’s was a busy place- a community- filled with university professors, students, employees and hipsters. “S” could be anyone of them and you had reluctantly given up long ago trying to seriously figure out who it was. You could ask- that’s true- but then what if they weren’t who you expected- what if it somehow it got awkward and things turned wrong- what would you even say if you met them:

“I noticed that you were having a crisis back in September?”

Because you had noticed. They usually liked the classics- history too- and every now and again a few excellent thrillers. But in the middle of September the flow changed to “The Myth of Sisyphus,” “On Death and Dying,” and “Notes from the Underground.” No one reads those back to back by choice. Unless, of course, the choice is made for you by some existential panic...

Maybe you were reading too much into it. But there was something fantastic about trying to piece together who they were and what was going on with them. It was like a secret conversation- a private and personal aside with a stranger. And that didn’t just happen every day- well- except on Fridays.

Breakfast that morning was quickly hurried through, as even though the shop didn’t open till ten, you were impatient. Grabbing a stack of your class notes, you shoved them in your bag and wrapped up your in coat and picked up your umbrella. It was nearly summer- but the clouds were still going to have their final say before vacating for the hot month.

The rain was warm and steady as you walked down the campus side street past the Arts buildings and into the coffee shop that was across the street from Calypso’s. As you drank your favorite drink and half read through your assignments, every so often you’d glance through the foggy window of the shop, letting your eyes drift across the street. You could feel yourself hoping- hoping almost beyond your own acknowledgement- to spy movement on the second floor- like a child peeping down the stairs on Christmas Eve. But no movement was seen, to your expected but still irksome disappointment.

Returning, more earnestly to your work, the hours ticked by and soon it was 10:30. Quickly, you packed up your things and waved goodbye to your favorite Barista. In a half-skip half-jog you splashed through the rain and bounded up the curb to the bookstore. Pushing through the weathered door, the bell rang above you, a nice and familiar sound.

Inside the store was already bustling with the regulars- who were already taking up their common haunts. While you were an avid patron, you couldn’t beat the dedication of some of them. The romantic lit professors practically ran their office out of Calypso's and could, without fail, always be found nesting in leather armchairs with stacks of papers and red pens by their side. Near them were the groupie grad students, mimicking every word the professors said and eagerly shuttling coffee back and forth across the street. They were all on the first floor today- as always.

You shuffled your way by them and around the displays of best sellers towards the back, passing the Wiccan Craft Club- they gathered here every Friday too. Today it was Sigil cross stitching. Spooky- but fun. One day you had the notion to join them and see what it was all about. Maybe they could help you find who “S” was you mused.

Taking the steps two at a time, you wound your way up the spiral staircase to the second floor. The worn rugs that lined the upper aisles softly gave way under your steps, as you followed the familiar path. Your eyes lit up.

“The Spy Who Came in from the Cold”

Well, that was an interesting selection. They usually didn’t pick espionage books. Excited, you picked up the book and began reading the summary- even though you knew you were going to buy it anyway. A wry smile formed on your face. It was about East Germany. Two months ago “S” had recommended a nonfiction book “Anatomy of a Dictatorship” that was all about the Soviets involvement in East Germany. You could put some of the pieces together.

Tucking a copy under your arm, you went back downstairs to the checkout. It was 10 till 11:00 and your lecture began at 11:20, so you couldn’t really linger any longer. Placing the book on the counter, you began to shuffle distractedly through your bag for your money.

“Great choice,” Hummed an unfamiliar voice.

Your attention quickly redirected to the register. Leaning over the counter, happily scanning the book, was an unusually tall and lanky guy with bright eyes that shone right through you. You had never seen him before, and you were sure of that because you would have remembered it. As he moved his long unruly swirls of chestnut hair made a bob and you could feel your ears turn red.

“Have you read it?” You managed to say, your mouth suddenly dry.

“Yes, actually, I have read that one- and I venture to think that you’ll enjoy it too,”

He smiled. His face was by no external metric perfect- but it had wonderful sort of charm- a charm that was making your brain go all fuzzy.

“Y’know,” He mused putting the book in a bag, “It is surprisingly hard to actually read when you work in a bookstore.”

“Too many choices?” You laughed- a nervous god awful laugh- but he didn’t seem to notice.

“It’s the agony of my existence!” He exclaimed with comedic air, “Sometimes- y’know- I’d rather walk into the sea then make a decision.”

You giggled, pressing your hand up to your mouth to stop it from running away from yourself.

“That’ll be 13.95,”

“Oh!” You jumped, forgetting that there was an actual transaction going on, and swiped your card. In between the digits of your pin you stole several glances upwards at his name tag.

“Shane,”

Your ears got redder with the realization- Shane! Was “S” for Shane? The anxiety of being around such a cute guy soared- neigh skyrocketed- in an instant.

Taking the bag from him you blurted out a shaky: “Thank-you”

“Don’t mention it-” He beamed, “Come back soon!”

You nodded. There needn’t be any worry. You would be back- and on more days than usual. Ripping your eyes away from him, walked out of the store and into the rain. Putting your umbrella up, you began to walk slowly towards your lecture hall- and for once you were thankful that it was on the other side of campus. The long walk there would give you time to cool off from whatever had just happened.

He might not even be “S” you told yourself. So what- he had read the book- he works in a bookstore- of course he is well read- of course he reads things. On top of that, you had never seen him before today and you had been reading the recommends for almost eight months now. In all likelyhood it wasn’t “S” and to think so was just wishful dreams… dreams…

A smile formed on your mouth. Even if he wasn’t “S” he was still something- you could feel it- definitely- definitely something. As you rounded the sidewalk and strolled up the library lawn, “Come back soon” replayed in your mind and you knew that you wouldn’t hear a word of the lecture. And you didn’t.

#shane madej #buzzfeed unsolved #shane x reader #BFU #BFU x reader #reader insert #bfu fanfic #bfu au #shane bfu #shane madej x reader #buzzfeed unsolved x reader #buzzfeed unsolved fanfiction #bfu fanfiction

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robinsnest2111 · 3 years

Text

indirectly tagged by @lampmeeting

it's not part of the original thing but I'm gonna add a silly little self portrait as well~

Questions to get to know you a little better:

1. What do you prefer to be called name wise? Robin or any kind of nickname related to that you can come up with lol Some of my favourites are Rob and Robble

2. When is your birthday? November 21st

3. Where do you live? A little town in Niedersachsen (Lower Saxony), Germany. Known for being the summer residence of a royal bloodline some 200 years ago. Yes there's a castle :P

4. Three things I am doing right now? Trying to forget the nightmare I just woke up from, thinking about getting a few more clementines from the kitchen and fininishing a little sketch I started yesterday

5. Four fandoms that have piqued my interest: Metalocalypse (ofc), Hogan's Heroes, Ghost BC, What We Do In The Shadows. Those are the main 4 at the moment but there's always a chance for other fandoms to take over for a bit.

6. How has the pandemic been treating you? ....yeah. Not so great. My grandma died suddenly at the start of the pandemic, I had to leave my internship I was super happy at early because of lockdown, finished my last semester at college with horrible online classes, had to move back in with my parents, cut contact with someone I've known almost all my life, barely passed my finals, still on the hunt for a job (started applying to places in September) and am close to losing it any day now lol Also pandemic means no flea markets which was one of the few things keeping my brain happy and occupied while giving me a chance to ride my bike around the region for hours :^(((((

7. Song(s) I can’t stop listening to: Sadly no particular song coming to mind right now, but I've had Ghost's entire discography and Dethalbum I, II, and III on rotation for months now lol. This Toss A Coin To Your Witcher Remix has also been stuck in my head for a while and is always worth a listen (Also have some silly techno/hardstyle remixes stuck in my brain permanently because I listened to them as background noise while trying to make my final college projects somewhat decent. Terence Hill & Bud Spencer - Lalalalalala, Da Tweekaz - Jägermeister, Star Wars Hardstyle, DJ Ötzi - Anton aus Tirol, Das Leben des Brian - Schwanzus Longus)

8. Recommend a movie: The Road to El Dorado by Dreamworks, a children's movie, I know... Each song is an absolute banger tho (even the German versions!), the jokes are silly but fun, the queer/gay hints add that little spice that I subconsciously picked up on and felt comforted by as a kid and the design of the everything is just (chef's kiss) Also the chemistry between the 4 main characters is gud as heck. It's the childhood movie I latched on to the most, my mother had to rent the dvd almost every single day until I bought a copy myself lol

9. How old are you? 24 orz I don't feel like it at all...

10. School, university, occupation? Finished college in August, unemployed because no one wants to hire in the creative field during a worldwide plague :^)

11. Do you prefer heat or cold? As long as it's under 35°C I prefer heat. My hands and feet are icicles 95% of the time after losing weight :^(

12. Name one fact others may not know about you? Since I'm an expert oversharer you probably know almost everything about me already orz But uhhh. Lemme see... I learned how to operate a laundry machine at the ripe old age of 20 at my internship at a hair salon lmao My mother never had the nerve to show me how on the modern machine we have at home (along the lines of "you will fuck it up anyways so let me do it >:^(((" which is an overarching theme in her raising me lol), but the older machine with the simpler dials at the salon was a good start to learn and honestly one of the things at this internship I'm still super grateful for...

13. Are you shy? Oh hell yeah I am... It's all the years of getting only negative feedback for trying to interact with others lol

14. Preferred pronouns: He/Him mostly, still figuring out if I still like they/them or nah (since in German there are no neutral pronouns that aren't neopronouns I've automatically gotten more attached to he/him lol)

15. Biggest pet peeves: I feel so mean for admitting it but honestly: Any noises my parents make. If I'm having a particularly bad low brain energy day even hearing them breathe makes me wanna run away and scream in anger... (Doesn't irk me with anyone else tho, which is weird...)

16. What is your favorite "dere" type? Oh there's more than 4 types now?? I've always liked Kuudere types the most out of the original 4 types, but I guess Shundere and Utsudere are right up my alley too!!!

The Kuudere (クーデレ), sometimes written Coodere or Kūdere, type refers to a character who is often cold, blunt, and cynical. They may seem very emotionless on the outside, but on the inside they’re very caring — at least when it comes to the ones they love.

The Shundere (しゅんデレ) type refers to characters who are sad and very depressed. While a full smile on their face might be out of the question, their love interest can help them open up and feel accepted.

The Utsudere (うつデレ) type refers to a character who is often sad and depressed. There is a reason for the character’s despair such as being bullied at school. Even if their life improves, they are often wary of other characters’ motives.

17. Rate your life 1-10? Maybe a 4? 4.5 at max

18. What is your main blog? The one I'm posting this on lol

19. List all your side blogs and what they’re for:

yorkiesart - old as hell and inactive artblog

bleedingheartbird - very triggering and depressing vent blog :^(

yorkie2111 - my very first username, a sea and ocean themed aesthetic blog now mostly for when I miss Denmark a whole lot (kinda inactive)

robinsartnest - a second attempt at a separate art blog, inactive as well lol

20. Is there anything people should know before becoming friends with you? I'm a clusterfuck of several undiagnosed mental illnesses and probably other conditions that I'm trying to figure out and deal with on my own until I can get professional help and some diagnoses. At times I'm weird and distant and overall very depressed and unpleasant, I've already hurt so many people this way and am trying to be better every single day. Basically I've never been given the "How to properly Human" manual and am frantically trying to get it right without hurting too many innocent people in the process.

Anyway, if you are nice to me I will love you forever ♡♡♡ :'3c

idk who to tag so if you wanna do this, do it~

#oh wow that's a long one haha #gosh these tag things really encourage my oversharing nature oops #anyway if any of you want to do this too feel tagged :D #get to know me better

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crimefightingspiderguy · 4 years

Text

left hand free

Part II to the series, i want you to want me.

Summary: (Y/N) is checking in on Peter in Germany.

Warnings: I guess swearing? Maybe spoilers for Captain America: Civil War, but like who hasn’t seen that bad boy lol?

Pairings: Peter Parker x best friend!reader

Word count: 1,632

A/N: I’ve decided that I’m going to attempt to get this series done before I start my summer semester, so on the 15th of May, if I can’t then updates will be slow during that time, at least for a month until I finish school. Updates will ideally be 1-2 times a week since that’s about how many days I have off from work. Thanks for the support on the last part!

You anxiously pace back and forth on your kitchen floor. Lost in your thoughts, only brought to reality by the familiar ding of your phone. You let go of the breath you didn’t know you were holding. You pick up your phone and look at the text from Peter,

P: “Just landed in Germany”

Y: “Well now that the hard part is over, have a great trip! 🙄🥴”

P: “All will be fine lol. Make sure to send me a picture of us “hanging” so I can check-in with May.”

“Hey, dad!” You called to him, hoping he could hear you from his room.

“What’s up?” He popped his head out from behind the door frame.

“I have a strange favor to ask. Can you take a picture of me working on my Spanish project? Since Peter and I couldn’t work on it together, they want us to take pictures of each of us doing our halves so they know we didn’t just have one person do all the work.”

“What happened with Peter coming over this weekend?”

“Oh, it turns out he had a college recruitment thing. He didn’t think he’d qualify when he applied, so he thought he’d be able to make it. He’s gonna do his half in his hotel.”

“Oh, alright.” Your dad takes your phone from you and snaps a picture of you leaning over the poster board, pretending to write the title for the project. He hands you back your phone. “That’s an odd request from a teacher.”

“Well, that’s what they tell us, but we all really know that they’re just lacking in volunteers for the yearbook so they want to get some extra pictures of kids working on projects if they can.” You chuckled nervously, and took the phone back, immediately sending it to Peter. He went back to his room, telling you goodnight and to not stay up too late. “love you!” you shout as he shuts his bedroom door.

“Back at ya kid!”

You phone bings and brings your attention back to Peter.

P: “Oh look how cute you look when you pretend to do homework 🥺”

Y: “Shut up. I hope Captain America knocks you on your ass with his shield.”

P: “Well that’s not very nice. Maybe I should ask one of the Avengers if they’re in the market for a new best friend.”

Y: “Go ahead and do that for me because if you die then at least I’ll have someone to comfort me. Does Thor happen to be on your team? If so, I’ll gladly mourn my loss in his big strong arms 😢”

P: “As a matter of fact, he is not. Guess you’re s.o.l. Nighty night.”

Y: “Night, try not to get yourself killed dumbass.”

You continued working on the Spanish project throughout the night. After all, you were planning on having two people doing this, and now you have to make up for that. Well, that’s what you told yourself, you knew that you wouldn’t be able to sleep well all weekend with the thought that Peter might be in danger. But, if he really has been Spider-Man this whole time, then he’s been in danger for some time. But this seems like a different kind of danger. You’ve always know Spider-Man to be the friendly neighborhood crime fighter, but now that he’s working with the Avengers, you worried what that kind of exposure to a bigger enemy might mean for him. Maybe this is why Peter never told you, he didn’t want you to hold him back or worry constantly about him. You’d understand him not telling May because of that, but you thought that your friendship was something beyond just caring about each other. You thought it was the two of you encouraging each other and helping them to be the best version of themselves, so why didn’t he trust you with something that was so important to him? Maybe he thought you’d rat him out? But if he gave you the chance he would know that you would never go behind his back like that. Maybe this was your chance to prove that to him. Well, whatever his reasoning, you hoped he would be more honest from here on out.

The next day you hadn’t heard anything from Peter all day. You assumed he was probably just busy, plus being in a different time zone probably didn’t help, but you still had a gnawing feeling. That was until you got a text of a picture of Peter with some locals, and you realized he was probably sightseeing until it was time to “suit up”. You smiled at the picture and saved it. He looked so genuinely happy, and you didn’t get to see that often in pictures. You realized that this was something that he was excited about. His nerves and tension you sensed when he asked you to cover for him were gone, and he was fully enjoying himself and his chance to fight with Iron Man. You sighed contently and shut off your phone, figuring it’s probably best to not have it taunting you throughout the day.

When you finally turned your phone back on, about right before you got into bed for the night, you had a video from Peter waiting for you. It was him running around a town square and showing you all the different food carts. You chuckled, not really sure why he felt the need to share all the food carts with you of everything, but you didn’t mind. Accompanying the video is a text that says,

P: “Mr. Stark says we’re gathering at the airport in the morning because that’s where Captain America is heading, trying to escape.”

Y: “Loving the video and picture, looks like fun! Hope everything goes well tomorrow, kick some ass Pete ❤️ (oh and don’t die please)”

P: “Oh now you want me to come back. Now that you know Thor’s not here to dry your tears?”

Y: “I’ve always wanted you to come back, I’m just saying if you don’t… I might not be so torn up if Thor was sent to break the news to me 😉”

P: “I’ll put that in my will really quick “P.S. Send Thor to break the news to (Y/N)”.”

Y: “I appreciate your support on this bud! Oh by the way, here’s a picture of the project finished for May, tomorrow I’m baking Mantecados so when you get back you can be my taste tester and then everything should be ready to present on Monday!”

You’d gotten up and snapped a picture of the finished poster board. Then propped your camera on your desk so it looked about Peter's height, and set a timer. You hopped in front of the board and held your arms out in a way that someone would show off a car on a game show, and out on a big grin. You sent both to Peter so he had some options for what to send to May as proof. He responded to you after he saved them and forwarded them to May.

P: “Thank you! May is really appreciating the fun shots of you acting like poster board making is your calling. Also, I’m really looking forward to knowing absolutely nothing about our project when we present lol.”

Y: “Hey, that’s on you lol. Read the points I have on the board on your plane ride back.”

You set your phone down and closed your eyes, a smile on your face that you couldn’t shake. You were able to sleep peacefully knowing that for now, Peter was okay. You could worry about him tomorrow, but for now, he’s okay.

You decided to sleep in as much as you could, since today all you had to do was go out and get some baking ingredients, then bake. You woke up around noon, which is definitely longer than you thought you’d stay in, but you weren’t mad. You were facing your alarm clock on your bedside table then turned on your back to stretch. You looked up at your ceiling and fell out of bed.

“What the actual fuck!” You yell as you fall, scared to death.

You heard the most familiar laugh echo through your room as Peter fell from your ceiling to your bed. You stood up, grabbed your pillow and smacked him across the head.

“Hey! It’s not my fault you’re easy to scare!”

“No, but it is your fault that you’re a total ass.” You laugh at him, but then pause as he takes off his mask and reveals his black eye. You quickly take his face into your hands and gently rub your thumb over it.

“Who did this? I’ll kick their ass.” You said, completely forgetting that he was just fighting the oldest living Avenger.

“I’ll let Mr. Stark know to warn Cap that you’re coming for his head.”

“Right, sorry. I did just wake up, I totally forgot you were off fighting big bad guys. So what was it like? Are you an Avenger now?”

“It was interesting and kind of cool to be doing more than just stopping random thugs from stealing old ladies’ purses, ya know? And no, well… I’m basically an Avenger, but I think I have to wait for another assignment or something for me to prove I’m ready.”

“Well, hopefully, they’re not needing you too much.”

“Why not? I could really do this! I could be an Avenger!”

“What about school?”

“Well I could obviously do both, I would just have to only do Avenger things when I can, but I’ll manage, I’ve been managing for a while now.”

“Well, as long as your happy, and not dead, I’ll support you.” You chuckled, hoping that Peter would continue to trust you with his Spider-Man secrets.

Current Taglist: @popluckbih

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged throughout the series. I hope you enjoyed! Feedback is always welcome :)

Find more of my work here.

My work is exclusively posted on Tumblr by me, on this blog. If you see my work posted elsewhere, please reach out to me.

Thank you, xx.

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berniesrevolution · 4 years

Link

Last week, thousands of people in the Australian state of Victoria were urged to evacuate their homes. “Don’t wait,” the alert warned. Bushfires were burning across the state; so large were some of the blazes that, according to Victoria’s commissioner of emergency management, they were “punching into the atmosphere” with columns of smoke nine miles high. The smoke columns were producing their own weather, generating lightning that, in turn, was setting more fires. Some time after residents received the evacuation warning, many of those in the most seriously affected region, East Gippsland, which is a popular tourist destination, received another alert. It was now too late to leave: “You are in danger and need to act immediately to survive.”

Just to the north of Victoria, in New South Wales, blazes have so far destroyed more than nine million acres. Meanwhile, in the state of South Australia, dozens of fires were burning last week, some of them uncontrollably. At least nineteen people have died in the fires, as have hundreds of millions of animals, including a significant proportion of the country’s koalas. More than two hundred and fifty thousand people signed a petition arguing that, in light of the devastation, Sydney’s famous New Year’s Eve fireworks displays should be scrapped, but the celebration proceeded anyway, in part at the insistence of the Australian Prime Minister, Scott Morrison.

“I can think of no better time to express to the world just how optimistic and positive we are as a country,” said Morrison, a Donald Trump-like figure who was on holiday with his family in Hawaii last month when, owing to all the fires, New South Wales declared a state of emergency. (It declared a second state of emergency last Thursday, ahead of what was expected to be another catastrophic weekend.)

In a Dantean sort of way, Australia’s holiday-season infernos provided a fitting close to 2019, which has been called “the year the world woke up to the climate crisis.” In India this past summer, a heat wave killed more than a hundred people in the northeastern state of Bihar, and in Japan a month later a heat wave sent an estimated eighteen thousand to the hospital. All-time temperature records were set in France, where a high of a hundred and eight degrees was reached in the town of Vérargues on June 28th, and in Germany, where the mercury in the town of Lingen hit a hundred and seven degrees on July 25th.

In Australia, records were broken only to be rebroken. On December 17th, maximum temperatures across the entire country, which is roughly the size of the continental United States, averaged 105.6 degrees. Then, on December 18th, they climbed to 107.4 degrees. The “feeling when you open the oven door” is how one Australian described the heat to the BBC. “It’s like that, but just the whole time.” Globally, it was the second- or third-warmest year since accurate measurements began. (The exact ranking is still to be calculated.) In either case, each of the past five years has been among the hottest five, and the decade counts as the warmest ten-year stretch on record. If 2019 was supposedly the year we “woke up to the climate crisis,” the twenty-tens have been called “the decade we finally woke up to climate change.”

(Continue Reading)

#politics #the left #new yorker #climate crisis #australia #green new deal

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poppys-writing · 4 years

Text

The Missionaries, Part 1

A/N: new Box Boy series here, but this time it’s more caretaker/comfort centric! I hope you all will enjoy this new take on the Box Boy universe and whump in general. Once again, credit goes to @sweetwhumpandhellacomf and @shameless-whumper for creating this wonderful sub-genre of whump that continues to thrive. Thanks for reading and feel free to check out my masterlist!

Noah woke up to the same rattling of the tiny, rusty plane, dark clouds hanging ominously outside the plane window. He thought that the headache would disappear with a long nap, but it was still as bad (if not worse). Looking across the aisle was Ruthie, who was awake when he fell asleep and was still awake now, her leg tapping incessantly into the metal floor and her hands fiddling nervously with her coat. “You nervous?” He hollered across the aisle to her; the drone of the plane along with the deafening engine made him worry that she wouldn’t even be able to hear him.

She jumped, apparently freaked out by his voice. Her head snapped to face him, her gentle brown curls whipping around even though they were secured in a ponytail. Nonetheless, she flashed him a wide smile, though her eyes didn’t sparkle with joy like they usually do. “No, no, not at all,” she reassured him with a nod. “Why do you ask?”

He held her gaze for a moment, considering pointing out her fidgety behavior, but ultimately decided against it. He didn’t want to be rude. “Uhh, no reason,” he quickly dismissed, a couple of chuckles escaping as he moved to rub the back of his neck. “I’m a little bit nervous,” Noah lied. He wasn’t nervous at all. Should he be?

“Oh, you are?” Ruthie returned back, head cocking to one side. She could see right through his lie; Noah never gets nervous, even when he should be. They’re going to a foreign country, serving for the first time as medical aid, even though they haven’t become doctors yet. In addition to that, they’ll be in one of the biggest human trafficking hubs in the world for two months, treating the victims of the beast that will be breathing down their neck. Yeah, he should be worried about that. “Well you have no reason to be freaked. It’ll be a good experience!” Ruthie lied through her teeth.

Before Noah could get another word in, Ruthie turned back to the window to gaze out at the ominous clouds and overthink everything, effectively ending the conversation. So, without any vocal company, Noah decided to gaze at the empty seats of the plane and imagine the companions they could’ve had. Sophie, Tyler, Jonathan, Mary, Rebecca, Elijah and Esther, Cindy, Jane, Rob and Will. So many of their friends that were supposed to accompany, but all dropped out for various reasons. Mary didn’t have time or money to get the appropriate vaccinations; Tyler, Esther and Cindy couldn’t raise enough money to go and had to work over the summer anyways; Sophie, Jonathan, Rebecca, Elijah, Jane and Rob’s parents all wouldn’t let them go because they thought the trip would be “too dangerous.” Noah didn’t blame them; with human trafficking statistics rising by the day in Belarus and travel advisories announced, he considered not going too. But, Ruthie coming from a family of turn-or-burn preachers and missionary leaders, her parents refused to let her back out of it. Ruthie even offered to request a transfer to somewhere a bit safer than Belarus, but her parents insisted that she finish what she started. There was no way Noah could let her go halfway across the world by herself, so he stayed on, suppressing his nerves once again to go into the belly of the beast.

So now it’s the two of them. Ruthie’s a nice gal. Being in the same friend group in college, they got along and enjoyed one another simply due to mutual friends, but never became close and drifted even further apart during medical school. Leading up to the trip, they went out to lunch and hung out and studied together so they could bond before spending the next two months in a dangerous foreign country together. In that time, Noah discovered her to be nicer than he thought, funnier than he expected, and cuter than she was before.

The plane began its decent into Minsk, the capital and only city with an international airport. The dark clouds and turbulence broke to the city covered in a steady rain that drummed against the plane windows. From the sky, the Stalinist architecture evidently hasn’t been touched up in decades. Still, there was something beautiful about the tall, dreary buildings. The dark windows held the ups and downs of millions of people: mothers bringing home their child, businessmen saving their company, marriages that fall apart, loved ones that pass on, and also hundreds of thousands of people involved one way or another in the Box Boy industry.

Since the Box Boy and Babe industries had been outlawed in the United States almost six years ago, the American government cracked down on human trafficking so hard that the industry had to completely relocate out of red, white and blue borders. Minsk being a major hub even prior to the U.S. breakdown, it was naturally the next best choice. On the bright side, human trafficking in North America became virtually nonexistent. On the down side, Noah and Ruthie are now in the heart of it all once more.

The plane landed, emptying out its two Americans and their luggage and moving on to pick up some other human cargo. Who would be the next people sitting in their seats? Box Boy moguls, or Box Boy victims? Noah shuddered at the thought, lugging his bag across the slick tarmac towards a van with the familiar Christian Missionary Alliance symbol plastered all over its side. As they sauntered across the runway, which seemed to get longer with every step, Ruthie and Noah could feel the eyes of the ground controllers and travelers following them. Some of them were angry and disdainful, while others were hopeful and trusting - hopefully they’d encounter more of the latter once they get to the mission house.

Ruthie and Noah loaded their bags into the back of the van, piling in and shedding their raincoats. Ruthie’s ponytail had frizzed up in the rain, poofing out in every direction. Stop staring, Noah internally scolded himself, but it was too late. Their eyes met again, but this time he was inches from her face - he could see the honey-colored flecks littering her brown eyes, watch her dimples form as she smiled back at him. Does she have a boyfriend? Maybe he should ask that once this whole don’t-get-human-trafficked thing is over.

The van lurched into motion, Noah and Ruthie lurching along with them. A little laugh escaped her lips as she clutched on to Noah’s arm for stability, while he reached for the handle above to secure the both of them. Even after the ride got steadier, Ruthie still clutched his arm.

After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, the driver turned around and flashed the both of them a toothy smile, a gold tooth barely visible. “Welcome to Belarus!” he warmly greeted them with a thick slavic, even though they had been riding in the car for a while now. “We go pick up for other missionaries, then drive. You’ll be settled by dark.”

Casual conversation commenced until the van turned into the parking lot of a run down motel. Three missionaries from Spain, a couple from Germany, and two friends from Australia piled into the rickety old car. Polite greetings were exchanged and all got settled in for the couple hour drive to the house.

Minsk rolled by Ruthie’s window, the business-centric neighborhood that the airport was surrounded by turning residential. With that shift came what she was dreading: the Box Boys and Box Babes. Back home, when it was legal, she still became nauseated at the sight of a human being owned by another human being, and she didn’t even see it that much publicly in small town Idaho. Here, however, it seemed to be commonplace. Some men or women were leashed - leashed! - to powerful looking men and women that strode through the streets like they owned the place. Some girls trailed behind men with nasty grimaces, keeping their head down and hands folded in front of them. Some boys walked beside women with large heels and an entourage. It was disgusting. Absolutely revolting. Apparently west coast mega cities like Los Angeles and San Francisco were just like this, but by the time Ruthie made it there the business was already outlawed. How did the United States even legalize this? How could anybody legalize this? Ruthie wanted to pound of the windows, to jump out of the van and shout at everyone for their tolerance of this injustice. Instead, she let tears well in her eyes, clinging tighter to Noah’s arm.

Noah wasn’t looking out of the window just for that reason. He kept his eyes focused on his hands in his lap, or his watch, or just closed them. He already knows what it looks like, and he’d rather not see it again. When he felt Ruthie clutch at his arm even tighter, he nudged her with his shoulder to get her attention away from the window. It worked, and she quickly turned her head towards him, frantically rubbing away tears. “You okay?” Noah posed, careful to keep his voice down.

“I don’t know,” Ruthie shrugged, trying her best to smile at him. She does that. Instead of being sad, she decides to smile - it doesn’t really work all the time. “It’s just...I’d only heard about it, never actually seen what it looks like until now. It’s bad, Noah, this is really bad.”

Noah sadly nodded his head. Oh, if only she knew the worst of it. Sweet Ruthie with her naive small-town mindset. He wouldn’t trade her for the world, but sometimes he wished he could tell her the truth without ruining her endless joy and kindness. “I know, I know. We’re here to help though, don’t forget that,” he tried to reassure her. Noah’s not the best at comfort - since he rarely gets nervous, he doesn’t know how to deal with this fearful emotions.

“Hopefully our help is enough,” Ruthie responsed, casting her head down towards her hands instead of outside the window.

Noah surveyed the bus, just like he surveyed the plane. This bus was supposed to be filled with their closest friends, all journeying together to fight the evils of man and heal those who had fallen victim to corruption. Hopefully this van will be filled at all when the mission ends.

#box boy universe #box boy multiverse #box babe #box boy #caretaker #comfort #caretaker prompts #comfort prompts #my writing #the missionaries

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