#kick it up a notch people. why is something like this never on those damn dog coded posts | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

redorich · 3 years

Note

May I request the aftermath of Cleo learning about the magic restrictions please and thank you.

The unfortunate thing about the Dream SMP is that there is no such thing as neutral ground. Everyone's in a faction, and everyone's got beef with everyone else. The only "neutral ground" is the unsettled wilds. When Philza reports this back to Cleo, who reports it back to Xisuma, Cleo wears a put-upon look and says that her and Joe's castle will do just fine, thank you, so stop worrying about it.

The day of the meeting comes, and though Philza is hesitant to return to the castle that scared Techno half to death and activated Ranboo's main character energy, he didn't spend all that time with Cleo handing out the invitations for nothing. Cleo herself won't be present, but her partner in crime Joe will be.

Inside the castle, past the courtyard teeming with armor stand faux-life, there is a meeting room with a table. There are exits on each of the four walls, so no one feels trapped, and the table is circular so that no one feels less important than anyone else. It's all a very Socratic setup.

At the far end of the room, where the head of the table would be were it rectangular, Xisuma sits calm as can be despite the powder keg of important people with grudges he's invited into his presence. On his right is Joe, whose eyes are lit up bright white, though he's still wearing his glasses. To Xisuma's left is Grian, and to Grian's left is Doc. Continuing around the table, next sits Eret representing the Pride Palace and, to a lesser extent, the Dream SMP as a whole. After them, the next person is Philza representing the Syndicate, then Bad representing the Eggpire.

Given the antagonistic nature of the Eggpire, Bad's neighbors have been chosen very carefully; on his other side sits Ghostbur representing L'Manberg. (Philza had awkwardly told Cleo that inviting a L'Manberg representative wasn't necessary, since the place was gone, but she insisted that it was "the principle of the matter". Ghostbur seems happy enough to be invited, anyway.)

On Ghostbur's left, Sam attends on Dream's behalf. Obviously, no one is going to invite Dream, and as Dream's would-be warden, Sam was nominated to attend in his stead. Next to Sam there's an empty chair for George; Philza and Puffy both warned the Hermits that George was allergic to "lore", whatever that meant, but his place at the table was set nevertheless.

The last person to fill in the table is Tubbo, representing Snowchester. He quietly expresses to Sam that he's wary about how few Hermits there are in proportion to the number of Dream SMP citizens. Sam shrugs, and murmurs back to Tubbo that there's probably more Hermits hiding somewhere nearby. After all, isn't that what the Hermits do?

Xisuma claps his hands together once in a polite bid for everyone's attention. They settle down slowly, and once they do, he stands.

"Right, everyone-- thank you all for coming. Let's get right into it, shall we?" He smiles, though it's hard to see beneath the helmet. "With some help from Puffy and Philza, my friends and I were able to figure out why we were trapped in your server."

Sam crosses his arms. He doesn't give much of a shit about the Hermits, he tells himself, unless they have something to do with Dream-- Sam's greatest failure. (It's a lie. He looks at Doc, the only other creeper-person he's ever met-- the first creeper-person, who fought a god and won the right to live for all mob hybrids who came after him. Doc, whose eyes are fixed solely on Xisuma.)

Clearing his throat to cover up the moment of weakness, Sam speaks up. "That's great and all, but why do we care? No one was living in L'Manberg anyway; it was practically free real estate."

The callous words net Sam a glare from Tubbo and a hurt look from Ghostbur. Before either can protest, Xisuma cuts in smoothly.

"It's an issue with your server," he says, "one that Dream should have fixed. It's the reason for this meeting, actually; if there was a responsible admin in the server, I would have just told them. First, a history lesson-- Doc, if you please?"

Doc nods somberly, savoring the opportunity to ham it up a bit. "For those of you who don't know, there are three Eras. The first is the beginning of time, when Mojang created the world as we know it. Players had infinite respawns, the world was less advanced, and redstone had just been created."

"Don't you think you're going a little too far back in history?" Bad asks skeptically.

"He's getting there," Eret defends.

Doc picks up where he left off. "In the Mojang pantheon, there was a god named Notch who wanted to expand the world's horizons, to give them new biomes and mechanics and blocks they'd never seen before... but you can't make something out of nothing. He needed magic to make his big updates a reality, and he stole it from the players behind the other gods' backs."

Ghostbur gasps, horrified. "He stole magic?"

"And so the gods killed him and gave the magic back, end of story," Sam snaps, then instantly regrets it. He's too on edge.

Thankfully, Doc either doesn't mind it or doesn't notice. "Not quite," he says. "When Notch took the magic from players, they lost the ability to respawn at all, marking the beginning of Era Two-- the Hardcore Era. When the gods found out, they were angry at Notch, so they exiled him to the Void. They tried to give players back their magic, but Notch had already taken too much, and servers and updates kept needing more and more... That's how Era Three started. It's the one you live in now, with the three life system."

"So... why does this matter?" Tubbo asks. "I mean, what does this have to do with why you're stuck in our server?"

"There's a parasite on your server, eating up all the magic," Xisuma says carefully. "Your server needed extra magic to keep up, so when we went through the infinity portal it grabbed us. As a group comprised mostly of Era One players, we have the magic that the server needs to compensate for the parasite."

Most of the Dream SMP citizens look either nauseous or extremely worried at the thought of a parasite. With a furrowed brow and a chewed lip, Eret breaks the silence.

"Do you know who it is?"

They all look around the table with wary gimlet eyes, attempting to suss out the imposter among them.

"A parasite..." Sam snorts derisively. "Sounds like that damn egg."

"Language," Bad snaps, but doesn't resort to violence.

"No no, he's got a point," Grian speaks for the first time. He'd been told to stay silent, but he's not a man who will ever pass up an opportunity to meme.

Bad's face falls, and he takes on a placating tone in an attempt to persuade the Hermits to his side. "Hey, don't be like that, the Egg's never done anything wrong!"

Sam's eyebrows raise practically to the ceiling. He looks at Bad in disbelief. "Never done anything wrong?" he says. "Remember when you--"

"That was me, not the Egg," Bad cuts in with a nervous laugh.

"You tried to kill Puffy over it, then killed Foolish instead," Philza says solely because he wants the Hermits to be mad about the Egg.

"Hm," Joe hums to himself. Up until this point the man everyone knows as Herobrine has been quiet, fading into the background, but now that he's made his presence known they can't help but be wary.

He drums his fingers on the table. "Yeah, I think we need some backup. False, Iskall?"

"On it," Doc grumbles, and reaches under the table to flip a couple trapdoors.

Out of nowhere, as though they'd ender pearled in, a blonde woman and a cyborg man appear behind the Hermits' end of the table. Bad stands up suddenly, knocking his chair backward, but Doc presses another button and all four entrances to the room are shut by pistons.

The woman, False, vaults herself over the table with nothing but upper body strength and tackles Bad to the floor. While the demon is still stunned, Iskall dashes around the circumference of the table to flank him. Doc once again presses a button and the floor opens up to reveal a secret staircase, which False and Iskall drag Bad down kicking and screaming. Once they disappear into the depths of the basement, the floor closes back up and the doors reopen like nothing ever happened.

"Well," Xisuma says with a small smile, lacing his fingers together as he addresses the group.

They stare back at him in horror.

He clears his throat awkwardly. "So, with the removal of the Egg, your server will stabilize and we Hermits will be able to leave you in peace..."

"I'm sensing a but," Eret says tentatively. They take off their sunglasses with a minute sigh, reminding themself that it's because of these Hermits that their curse was removed, that they can take off their sunglasses and have gray eyes again.

Taking a deep breath, Xisuma speaks. "We think we have a way to fix the three-life system."

#mcyt #hc x dsmp #hermit canyon au #zombiecleo #philza #xisuma #joe hills #grian #docm77 #eret #badboyhalo #ghostbur #awesamdude #tubbo #falsesymmetry #iskall85 #me.cpp #me.txt

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lastbluetardis · 3 years

Text

Sacred New Beginnings (1/?)

Summary: James Noble thought he traded away his chance at love and a happy-ever-after when he signed a contract with a record label that turned him into an international celebrity. But a chance meeting in a dive bar may prove him wrong.

Ten x Rose AU, @doctorroseprompts

This Chapter: Teen, ~5500 words

Note: Er... surprise? This idea has been in my head for months but my brain took it and ran with it this weekend. I plotted the whole thing and am gonna try to update every weekend. I don’t anticipate this being more than like... 7-10 chapter? I’d love to keep it under 5 chapters but that might be trimming things down too much for my liking. Anyways, I really hope you enjoy this little story!

AO3

Flashing lights and shrieks of his name greet James the moment the back door to his armored car is opened. His head of security ducks out first and James can only see a mass of feet and legs but it’s more than enough to let him know it’s a heavier than usual crowd. Not surprising, considering the news of his latest break-up just dropped while he’d been flying back from a visit to America.

He slides out of the car, helped by hands that pull him as much as guide him through the throng. He ignores the shouts of his name—telling him to look left or right or up or down or every combination therein—and the barrage of questions and jokes that aren’t funny.

Was it you or him that ended it?

Three weeks, is that a new personal record?

Another notch in the bedpost, eh James?

Got another beau lined up yet?

If you’re looking for candidates, what do we have to do to get our names in the running?

“Ignore them,” he mutters to himself, too quietly for anyone except his security team to hear.

In answer, one of them gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze as they reach his front door. Someone has already unlocked it for him and the darkness within is a blessing he’s all too willing to be shoved into. The cacophony muffles once the door shuts, and finally he’s alone, a rarity for him. If it’s not his security, it’s personal assistants and writers and producers and photographers and the paparazzi.

Or his lover of the month, as the papers have taken to calling his partners.

But nope, his home is empty and quiet and bloody freezing. A shiver ripples up his spine as he treads to the thermostat controller. Summer finally released its hold on London, and the muggy heat has been replaced with a damp chill that burrows down into his bones.

Several button-presses later, James hears the familiar clank of the radiator and he can smell the heating kick on. It’ll take a while for his house to warm up, so James keeps his peacoat on for the time being as he putters around his home, checking the fridge and the cabinets. As always, they’re well-stocked. He hasn’t had to do anything as mundane as grocery shopping in the five years since his YouTube channel full of acoustic covers of popular songs went viral and landed him a lucrative deal with a prestigious record label. Only in his wildest dreams had he expected to find fame and fortune in the hobby he loved so much—for it to have actually happened still took him by surprise, as though any minute he’d be told “it was fun while it lasted, but it’s time for you to leave wonderland now.”

Shaking his head of those thoughts, he goes to the antique dining table that can easily seat ten people, which is great for holidays or in-home meetings, but just plain depressing every other day of the year. A stack of mail has piled up, and he spends the next five minutes attempting to sort it before giving up and telling himself he’ll look at it in the morning, once he’s not quite as groggy—transatlantic flights always take it out of him.

Instead, he rootles around his fridge until he comes up with the necessary items to make himself a ham and cheese sandwich. With the prospect of food in front of him, James realizes he is starving. He shoves a whole slice of ham in his mouth while he assembles his pitiful meal, heaping on lettuce and sliced tomatoes as though that’s enough to negate the pile processed protein and greasy chips he layers in for crunch.

It’s tastier than any sandwich as a right to be, and he nearly makes himself a second one before catches sight of his phone screen and the slew of incoming notifications. His work is never finished, is it?

There are several texts from his publicist, Donna, welcoming him home and congratulating him on not making an arse of himself just by trying to walk up the front drive of his home. (To be fair, he felt entitled to channel his inner crotchety old man and tell reporters to get off his damn lawn if they encroached on his personal property.)

“Though some photos are surfacing of your trip to New York… Anything you need me to get ahead of?”

He rubs his fingers into his eyes, knowing she’s probably referring to his last night out in the city, where he went bar hopping until the wee hours of the morning to try to forget the text his subsequently-ex-boyfriend had sent him.

Thanks for everything, but I need to focus on my career. Cheers mate.

The career that James had kickstarted for him by introducing his rising actor boyfriend to several of his friends in the film industry, because James had been so damn desperate for affection that he’d once again let the wool get pulled in front of his eyes.

And so James had reached out to mates who lived in New York and they’d all gone out and acted half their age and had a wonderful time once James forgot about why he’d gone out in the first place.

But none of that now. Nope. No sir.

“Not that I’m aware of,” he replies. “Let me know if you catch wind of anything.”

Despite the fact that he only just got home and he’s jetlagged and still feeling the effects of his night out in New York, James can’t stay in his house right now. It’s so quiet that his brain is creating its own white noise. He can’t stand being in his head on a good day, and today is not a good day.

He grabs his keys and wallet and makes for the back of the house. His property is landlocked with the back gardens of other houses; the paps have learned the hard way that James is dead serious about protecting his neighbors’ privacy and will not hesitate to phone the police to arrest and sue anyone caught trespassing on private property to snag a photo of him. James hosts dinner for his neighbors several times a year and buys them gifts any chance he can to show his appreciation for their patience and tolerance.

In the dead of night, he slips out into his back garden, the crisp October air burning his lungs in the best way as he ducks his way through the neighborhood, his feet taking him far away from the crowd of reporters that are still stationed in front of his own home. Hopefully they’ll all have dispersed by the time he gets back. Perhaps he should have turned on music or a movie or something, made them think he was settled in for a lazy night in.

He wanders aimlessly for a while, enjoying this taste of freedom and trying to remember the days when he could leave out the front door of his flat without any fanfare.

It’s dark, and thick clouds obscure whichever moon phase they’re in, but the street lamps glow yellow on the damp pavement, lighting his way forward. A crisp autumn breeze ruffles his hair and the leaves, sending them tumbling around him and skittering across the residential street that’s so much quieter than the bustle of New York. It’s good to be home, though.

He arrives at a bus stop and catches one headed into the city proper. It’s no secret that James lives in London, and therefore the general population has gotten used to glimpsing him on the tube or walking on the street or frequenting pubs. He knows people snap quick photos of him, and he’s always happy to stop and pose for a selfie with respectful fans, but mostly he’s left alone when he’s out by himself like this.

Nevertheless, he hears the excited undertones of people trying to inconspicuously point him out to their oblivious friends. He keeps his head down, mindlessly opening and closing apps on his phone for something to do as he pretends he doesn’t notice them. He won’t be on the bus much longer anyway.

Several people get off the bus with him, including a group of teenage girls who are whispering heatedly among themselves. It’s almost funny, watching them debate amongst themselves before one of them approaches him.

She’s red-faced but determined as she blurts, “Can we get a photo?”

“Sure thing,” he says good-naturedly, inclining his head for them to come closer. “Need me to take it?” He holds out a lanky arm and flops it around a bit. “Got a longer reach than any of you.”

He’s certain one of the girls is about to start crying with joy as they all nestle into his side and hand him a new-model iPhone. Damn, it’s fancier than his own. When he was their age, he had an old flip phone that lost reception if he breathed on it wrong. It was a tank though—he’d dropped that thing hundreds of times, and nary a scratch.

“Do me a favor,” he says, handing the phone back to its owner, “and don’t ping our location if you post to social media, yeah? I appreciate it.”

“You’re my favorite person ever,” one of the girls squeaks.

His face splits into a grin and he tucks his hands into his pockets. “Is that so?”

The girls spend the next five minutes chatting with him about music and how they’ve been following him ever since his YouTube days. He listens and chimes in every now and then when they ask him a direct question, but he prefers being passive in exchanges like this, content to hear peoples’ stories. It makes him feel normal, if only for a little while.

Finally, they take their leave, and James turns in the opposite direction even though the destination he had in mind is down the street the girls had just taken. But he’s been burned far too many times by encounters with seemingly innocent fans, only for them to begin following him around and showing up outside his house to talk to him again. He makes a point of not drawing out public encounters with his fans.

He wanders down a street he’s vaguely familiar with, figuring he can backtrack in a couple blocks. The night is too beautiful for him to be upset about needing to take a detour.

Everything looks different in the dark, the glow of neon signs bathing everything in hues of greens and blues and pinks and yellows. Shops and restaurants are mostly shut up for the night, their windows dark or blinds drawn. Dingey motels with pay-by-the-hour rates are in full swing, as are the pubs that have a revolving door of people in varying states of intoxication.

Deep bass that he can feel all the way in his chest catches his attention, and he gets turned around a few times, but he eventually finds the establishment: Bad Wolf Brews. At first, he doesn’t think it’s open, and that he must be mistaken about where the music is coming from, but the heavy front oak door opens, and he realizes the glass on the door is tempered so that the interior lights don’t shine through. The music is clear and heavy and vibrating in his bones. He doesn’t think twice before catching the door before it closes and slipping inside.

The air is humid and smells of sweat and stale beer. Bodies are writhing and gyrating to the rhythm blasting through invisible speakers. The acoustics are phenomenal; none of the layers are lost and the sound quality is nearly as good as if he were listening to the record at home on his own stereo system.

The lights are low, and he’s sure he trips into a few people in the minute it takes for his eyes to adjust to the dimness, but finally, he’s at the bar. There are three open stools, and he claims one between a blonde woman and a red-haired man as he wonders what the hell this dive bar serves. He can see beer taps, but he’s more of a cocktail guy. He must look as lost as he feels, because the bartender hands him a menu that looks like it was hand-written and then photo-copied. It jives with the overall vibe of the pub.

The bartender checks in with him a minute later. James opens a tab and orders a sidecar sans sugar, and is pleasantly surprised by the quality. Not to make assumptions, but he’d figured an establishment such as this would have cheap liquor. If the alcohol in his drink is cheap, it’s well masked.

When he’s drained the last drop and about to signal for another, a hand rests on his shoulder. “Can I buy your next round?”

James looks up into the face of a stranger. It’s a woman with striking green eyes and a disheveled pixie cut. Judging by her crimson cheeks and glazed eyes, she’s three sheets to the wind. There’s buzzed, then there’s drunk, and then there’s plastered. He prefers not to let himself get to that last category, and by extension, he doesn’t really like to associate much with people who won’t remember the night come morning.

“Thanks, but I’m good,” he says with his most charming grin. “G’night.”

He has no idea if the woman knows who he is, but the way she shrugs and saunters to the gentleman sitting beside James, he doubts it.

He gets clumsily propositioned a few more times and always politely declines with a smile. So far, nobody here seems to recognize him and he is going to ride out this anonymity for as long as it’ll last. It has been too long since he’s been able to sit in a pub and drink quietly. Well, quietly, insofar as crazed fans or paparazzi aren’t harassing him—the music is loud enough that he’s sure to have ringing in his ears for a few hours once he gets home.

But he’s not really in any rush to get home, and so he orders his fourth cocktail before making his way to the loo. Alcohol goes right through him, and it’s nearly gotten him in trouble on tour a time or two.

There’s no line, but the loo is crowded, and he tries to ignore the double-takes as he stands in front of a urinal to take care of business. If he wakes up tomorrow morning to find that someone snapped a photo of him having a piss, he’s going to lose his goddamn mind.

Bladder tended to, James keeps his head ducked and shoulders his way back into the bar. His stool is unoccupied, and when he steps forward, he realizes why. A purse sits on it, seemingly reserving the seat but he can’t figure out for whom. He’s about to take the cocktail the bartender hands him and stand against the shadowed wall when someone picks up the purse.

It’s his blonde-haired stool mate. She flashes him a broad grin that lights up her entire face and squeezes something deep in his stomach.

“Saved your seat for ya,” she says with the ease and confidence of someone who’s known him his whole life.

“Thanks,” he manages through a suddenly dry mouth.

Feeling like an idiot for standing and gaping, he slips into his seat and downs half his new sidecar in one go. It’s as though the ice has been broken now, and she turns to him, her elbow on the counter and her cheek propped on her fist.

“Pretty sure you could outdrink a fish, mate,” she drawls, smiling again in that easy way that does too many strange things to his insides. “You’ve been knockin’ ‘em back for over an hour now.”

Has it really been that long? James checks his watch, and yup, it’s half past ten. The paps should be gone from his house by now, but he feels no draw to leave this place. The alcohol has left him pleasantly tipsy and warm, but he’s more drunk on the fantasy that he’s just a normal bloke having a nice night out in a newly-discovered dive bar.

“Fish don’t really drink though, do they? They absorb water through their gills via osmosis,” he replies, and he wants to bite his tongue off because what the fuck was that??

This woman, whatever her name is, doesn’t seem to mind his answer though, because her face scrunches in a giggle. His body is hot and throbbing with more than drink now, and he wants to hear that sound again but his brain has stopped working.

“Is that so different from you absorbin’ alcohol through your bloodstream?” she muses, finishing off whatever is in her short tumbler.

“Can I buy your next round?” he blurts rather than responding to her question, which he’s almost certain was rhetorical.

Her smile melts into something softer, something private and a little shy. “If you’d like.”

“I do.” He flags down the bartender and glances at his new companion expectantly.

“Gin and tonic,” she says. She thanks the bartender, then James when she takes her first sip. “I’m Rose, by the way.”

“James,” he says, feeling stupid because his face is plastered all over London, which likes to boast that it’s the home of international celeb James Noble. But wouldn’t he seem more of an arse if he just assumed this gorgeous woman knew who he was?

Nevertheless, his stomach sinks a bit when she snorts into her drink and says, “I thought it was you.”

“Yup, it’s me,” he forces, his voice flat. He hides his frown with his glass, knocking back the rest of his sidecar like it’s a shot. The room sways slightly with the violent motion of his head, and maybe he’s slightly drunker than he’d thought.

If Rose catches on to his sudden sour mood, she doesn’t mention it. “What brings you here to Bad Wolf?”

He shrugs and blows out a noisy breath. “I dunno. Went for a walk, ended up here.”

“Those are the best sort of adventures.” She hums wistfully. “Sometimes you find what you didn’t know you needed when you let yourself get lost.”

That observation is far too astute for his current state of mind, so instead he says, “Would you like to dance with me?”

Her eyes flicker across his face for a brief moment before she says, “Okay.”

He hops down from his stool, but Rose hesitates, clutching her purse and coat awkwardly. The bartender helpfully tells her to keep them on her stool, and he’ll keep an eye on it. Rose flashes him a grin that James would rather she flash at him, but he realizes that is utterly absurd, so he simply rests his coat on top of her things to better hide them from view. He then holds out his hand for her. Her palm is soft and warm against his as he leads her to the crowded dance floor.

They find space towards the back of the pub, hidden in the shadows of a hallway that states it’s closed off to patrons. And of course, of fucking course, right when he rests his hands on her hips to find the rhythm of the song, a new one comes on, and his own voice belts from the speakers.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters. He loves his music—he made it, after all—but he can’t help but feel pretentious and more than a little silly to dance to it like this.

Rose, however, grins and says, “Oh, come on, this is one of my favorites.”

She catches his hands where he’d loosened them at her waist and forces him to grab hold of her. She’s wearing high-waisted trousers and a top that leaves a sliver of her belly exposed. His thumb grazes the skin of her bare side, and it’s enough to send tingles through his body. Rose, meanwhile, slings her arms around his shoulders and begins to rock her hips from side to side in sync with the bass, embellishing the motions until she looks absolutely ridiculous but so, so beautiful.

He can’t help but grin and laugh, and he mirrors her movements until they’re both dancing like idiots to his music.

“This is how my baby brother dances,” she explains, bouncing up and down while twisting her hips. “We have regular dance parties together.”

“How old’s your brother?” he asks.

“Just turned four.”

He blinks, and blood rushes from his face. “And… and how old are you?”

“A perfectly legal twenty-four,” she drawls, reaching up to flick his nose. “You can start breathing again.”

Thank fuck.

“That’s quite the age gap.”

“My mum got remarried when I was nineteen,” Rose says with a shrug. “She and my stepdad didn’t waste much time.”

“Clearly,” he mutters under his breath.

“It does feel a bit like they’ve started over,” Rose confesses with a too-stiff shrug. “New family, new life, and I’m the interloper.

There is no way this vivacious woman in front of him could ever be considered an interloper, but before he can tell her that, she continues, “Mum does her best to assure me otherwise, but still. It’s hard to watch all the things Mum and Dad are able to do for Tony—that’s my brother, Tony—when Mum struggled so much as a single mum with me.”

“Your dad’s not in the picture?”

A sad smile pinches her face, and he regrets asking.

“No, I never knew him. He died when I was a baby.”

“I… I’m so sorry.” Well, he’s totally buggered this all up, hasn’t he? He wracks his brain on how to salvage the easy banter they’d had at the bar, but draws a blank.

Rose seems to realize they’ve lost the mood, but she breaks out into a lazy grin and says, “Since you seemed so opposed to dancing to your own music, it’ll please you to know a new song’s on. C’mon, show me your moves.”

He’s not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, and so he follows her lead, watching her dance her heart out until her cheeks are pink and her hair is damp with sweat. He’s sure he doesn’t look much better, since he can feel the perspiration beading down his back and beneath his arms, but he can’t bring himself to care. Tonight has been the most fun he’s had in a very long time. Clubbing in New York had been a lark, but he’s been swarmed by his American fans half the night, and had been busy drowning his latest heartbreak to fully enjoy it. But here, now, with Rose, it’s like he’s any other bloke in a pub, chatting up a pretty girl he wants to get to know.

Their bodies are wrapped around each other with the ease and grace of partners who have known each other for years, and he forgets that he has known Rose for all of a few hours. He never wants this night to end. He wants to cling to this fairytale and pretend that the clock isn’t about to strike the proverbial midnight.

But time marches on as always. The clock really does strike midnight, and the bartender begins to clear people out of his establishment. James is as exhausted as he is exhilarated, no longer drunk on booze but rather the company of Rose and the magic they made together by simply dancing the night away.

They head back to the bar to retrieve their coats and her purse, and to close out their tabs. James slides his credit card to the bartender and asks him to charge everyone’s tab to his card. If the bartender is surprised, he hides it well. A few minutes later, James is signing off on the receipt of purchase of several thousand pounds-worth of alcohol. His personal assistant is sure to be confused as hell when she wakes up to see the charge. He fires off a quick warning text to her so she doesn’t open up a fraudulent charge claim.

James salutes the bartender, knowing he’ll come back to this pub as often as he can until he’s found out and this place once again becomes somewhere that’s overrun with his fans.

The night is refreshingly cold when he and Rose emerge into it, a nice change after the stifling, sweaty heat of the bar. However, she hunches her shoulders against the chill, prompting him to wrap his arm around her waist and tug her into his side, all too eager to lend her some of his body heat.

“Can I walk you somewhere?” he asks, glancing around the street that is now full of the drunken patrons who’d been in the pub with them. They all disperse in different directions, stumbling home or to a different bar that is still open. “Or wait with you ‘til you catch a cab?”

“Yeah, sure,” she says, pulling up her phone to order a ride. She taps on the screen for a few quiet moments then says, “Done. Should be here in a few minutes.”

They descend into a slightly awkward silence that James wants to break, but he can’t think of anything clever to say. So he says nothing, and finally headlights wash over them, momentarily blinding them before a taxi pulls up.

“D’you wanna share?” she asks, opening the door to the back seat.

Is she as reluctant to leave him as he is to leave her? Or is she being polite and eco-friendly by ride sharing? Nevertheless, he nods and slides into the back seat beside her.

There is something incredibly intimate about sitting with Rose in the dark interior of the taxi, and he feels like he’s fifteen and wondering how to hold his date’s hand after a cheap night out at the cinemas. He fists his hands together, knotting his fingers until his knuckles pop.

The driver goes to the address Rose provides first, and all too soon they’ve arrived.

“I’ll cover the fare,” he says when she makes to hand over some bank notes to the diver. “It’d be my pleasure.”

She hesitates, but nods, then opens the door to climb out of the car. His pulse quickens as he watches her walk away with nothing but a, “Goodnight.”

“Can you wait just a minute?” he asks the driver.

“Meter’s still runnin’,” he grunts.

“That’s fine.”

James scrambles out of the taxi. “Hey, Rose?”

She turns back to face him, frowning.

“I… er… I had a great time tonight,” he says lamely, but her frown relaxes into a smile. “It was fun. With you. I had fun.”

“Yeah, me too,” she answers.

He licks his lips; his mouth is bone dry and his pulse pounds in his ears, making his vision throb with each frenzied beat.

“Do you… do you maybe wanna do it again some time? Hang out together? I… I’d really like to see you again,” he says, cursing his clumsy, fumbling words.

She scrutinizes him for a long moment, her expression indecipherable. His stomach sinks. Maybe this was a one-off, a story for her to tell her mates.

You’ll never guess who I met at the pub last night. James Noble! He paid for all my drinks and we danced like idiots.

He stews in his misery of doubt, and just when he’s about to tell her to forget about it, she slowly nods.

“Yeah, okay. I’d like that.”

“Really?” he asks, a hopeful edge creeping into his voice.

She laughs. “Really.”

“Brilliant!” James fumbles in his pocket for his phone, and he thrusts it at her. “Give me your number? I’ll text you. Or call.”

He rocks back and forth on his toes and heels, waiting for her to finish up with his phone. He has a sudden, potent bolt of panic that she’s snooping through his private messages or photographs for something to use against him to make a quick profit, but before that panic can take root, she hands his mobile back to him. It’s open to a new texting conversation.

From: 🌹 Bad Wolf Girl 🌹

Now I’ve got your number too 😉

He beams at the name she’s given to herself in his contacts, then he pockets his phone.

“I’ll see you later,” he says.

“You better,” she replies with that knee-weakening smile he’s grown to love over the course of the night. “See ya.”

“Bye.”

He stands there like a moron until she’s safely inside, then he turns back to the taxi and climbs in. The deserted streets streak by as the driver takes him to his neighborhood. He never gives his address though; he always chooses a destination a few streets away, just in case.

James generously tips the driver and bids him goodnight before slipping into the night to his home. He was right: the paparazzi are gone. There is no fanfare as he slips his key into the lock and lets himself into his house. It’s warm and cozy, but still too quiet for his liking.

Between the plane ride and his night out, he feels greasy and disgusting, and indulges in a hot shower before bed. He washes Rose’s scent off of his body, an intoxicating blend of jasmine and vanilla that’s as sweet as it is musky.

He’s groggy by the time he crawls into his giant, king-sized bed and burrows deep into his mounds of pillows and duvets. One of his ex-girlfriends once teased that he turns into the marshmallow man when he sleeps.

His sleep is deep and dreamless, and when he awakes with the sun the following morning, he feels more refreshed and invigorated than he ever remembers being. He’s got a full day of meetings with his songwriting team to brainstorm his next album, and he is ready.

But first, he checks his phone. There’s nothing from Rose, which makes him a little sad, but also nothing from his publicist, which is always a good sign. If ever she messages or calls him first thing in the morning, it always means there’s some sort of dumpster fire to put out. Usually a dumpster fire full of compromising photos of him.

He makes a point of not Googling himself, but he does occasionally check his social media pages for new posts about him, wanting to know when, where, and how his fans came across him in the wild. He easily finds the photo that he took with the group of teenage girls, and makes a point to like the original post and type a quick, “Nice to meet you all. Thanks for chatting with me last night - J” in the comments section. He snorts to himself as his comment blows up within seconds.

But other than some grainy photos of him riding the bus, he can’t find any other photos of himself. Nothing of him wandering the streets or drinking in the pub or even having a wee in the mens’ room. And best of all, there’s nothing of him and Rose. No photos of them dancing together or sharing a cab. If Rose has a social media account, it didn’t post any sneaky photos or bragging stories about dancing all night with James Noble.

He can’t quite believe it; he managed to have a fun night out drinking without it all being thrown back in his face the next morning. Within seconds, he’s grinning to himself and pulling up Rose’s contact information. It’s still in his phone, further proof that his night with her wasn’t some sort of jetlagged fever dream. She was real.

“Good morning. I hope you slept well. Thanks for last night.”

She responds almost instantly. Good morning to you too. I should be thanking you for paying my drink tab and taxi fare 😉 And for being an excellent dance partner.

“The pleasure was all mine, on all counts.” He sends that message, then types out a new one, “I’m gonna be in meetings all day (yes, I know it’s Sunday), so please don’t be discouraged if I don’t reply. But I’d really like to see you again. Want to do dinner or drinks or coffee or something?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, needing to make himself presentable for when his driver picks him up in an hour. Yet he can’t help but check his phone every three seconds, until finally there’s a message from Rose.

Yeah, I’d like that. I work ‘til five most nights, but I’m free after that. Or we can wait ‘til the weekend.

With spirits lighter than they’ve been in months, James steps out of his house with a broad, stupid grin that the ever-present crowd of paparazzi are all too happy to photograph.

#ficandchips #dwfic #doctorroseprompts #doctor who #ten x rose #ten x rose au #james x rose #yet another iteration of james and rose lmao #romance #meet cute #light angst #musician au #my fic #sacred new beginnings

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full-of-jams · 4 years

Text

Best Decision Ever

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Summary: You meet a pretty boy at the club and promise him that talking to you is the best decision he’ll ever make.

Genre: smut, more smut, pwp, one shot

Warnings: just filthy sexy time with zero chill, holy smokes

Word Count: 4.4k

A/N: JK smut is actually my favorite genre to read. I was inspired to write Good Riddance first, but since GR is a slow burn I thought I’d get straight to the point with this one xD The title is inspired by Hobi’s Grammy statement that liking BTS is the best decision ever. Let me know what you think.

°°°°°°°

„Hey, what’s your name?” you asked the boy lying beneath you as you broke away from your languid kiss. His eyes fluttered as he whispered an inaudible answer. How could anyone be so endearing yet enticing at the same time? You felt yourself melt a little on the inside. You gave him another kiss, this time deeper, your hands winding through his dark curls as you tightened your grip and tilted his face slightly upward, baring his throat.

His chest heaved as you broke apart, his beautiful eyes unfocused, pupils dilated. He looked terrified, but those wide eyes didn’t fool you. You could feel exactly how much he actually enjoyed your little game.

“I can’t hear you. You need to speak up.” You breathed into his ear. Your lips brushed his jawline, your tongue traced along and gave his skin a taste. His breath hitched. You couldn’t wait to hear what other sweet sounds he could make.

“Jeon Jungkook?” He replied shakily, this time a bit louder. Barely.

You lifted your head and gave him an amused look. One of your hands slowly wandered down his bare chest and gave his nipple a playful pinch. You could feel his cock twitch in response beneath you. Your eyes remained focused on his face as you quirked an eyebrow. Are you sure you know your name?

A lovely flush overtook his cheeks. He was so pretty you wanted to scream.

He swallowed; you could see his Adam’s apple bob. A glint of resolve set in his gaze. “M-my name is Jeon Jungkook.” He still sounded nervous, but his hands betrayed his intention as they gave your hips a tight squeeze.

A slow smile spread across your face. “Well, Jeon Jungkook. You’re in luck. I’ll show you why talking to me tonight was the best decision you’ve ever made.”

-------

It was a weekday night and you were in town for a business trip. Your colleague who was supposed to join you on the trip had to cancel last minute. This left you with two choices – spend your evening alone in your hotel room, accompanied by your ever-so-loyal partner called room service or call up a local friend and see what they were up to. Luckily your friend immediately responded and asked if you wanted to join her at the club tonight. You didn’t need much convincing. There’s no better way to unwind from a long day than a few shots and some uninhibited dancing. Your friend rallied a group of people for the night and you all arrived early enough that you still managed to snag a spot in the seated area of the club. At first you didn’t really care about the other people in your group. And you most definitely didn’t pay any closer attention to the handsome boy at the other end of your sofa, who threw you tentative looks all throughout the evening. As the night progressed, the club filled up. Your friend stood up and dragged her boyfriend, under some heavy protesting on his side, to the dancefloor. Some of the other friends joined them while others chatted away. Before you could decide whether you should also hit the dancefloor or strike up a conversation with the new people you met, the boy slid into the vacant spot your friend left behind.

“Hi, Y/N right?” His voice grew shy as you turned your attention towards him. You didn’t know how you hadn’t noticed him earlier. He was really a stunning specimen of a man. His black curls partly fell across his eyes. He wore a loosely fitted dark shirt in which his collarbones peeked through and his tight black jeans left little to your imagination. Fuck, you didn’t even know men could have sexy collarbones.

You gave him a captivating smile. “Hello, stranger.”

The boy responded with a faint, nervous smile of his own. “I-I thought I’d keep you some company since you don’t seem to know anyone else.” He nodded his head slightly toward your friend who was thoroughly enjoying herself.

Maybe you just found an even better way to unwind tonight. “That’s very nice of you,” you replied in an sultry tone. The boy twisted his hands as he searched for what to say next. You decided to relieve him from his misery and asked, “Do you want a drink?” You took the bottle from the table, poured two shots and pushed one glass towards the boy. He wanted to say something more but seemed to be tongue-tied as he took up the glass. “Cheers.” You clinked your glass against his and raised it to your mouth. A warm feeling spread through your throat and stomach. The boy winced slightly as he downed his drink, a drop of it escaped the corner of his lips and started to make its way down his chin. Sexy and cute. You weren’t going to say no to that. You lifted your hand to his face and gently caught the droplet with your finger. He flinched slightly at the unexpected touch, but his look was immediately replaced by something undefinable as you brought your finger to your lips and tasted the alcohol.

“Sweet,” You mused.

You noticed how the look in his eyes shifted. He finally found his words. “Do you want to dance?”

Your smile grew wider. “I thought you’d never ask.”

-------

This was how an hour later a half-naked and breathless Jeon Jungkook ended up in your hotel room bed. You were unmistakably delighted.

His body was splayed out in front of you, his head resting against the soft pillows, his thick hair a dark halo around his face. Your knees straddled his hips on either side as your hands eagerly ran up and down his beautiful chest and abdomen. Your fingertips traced each of his ridges and you could feel goosebumps rise in the trail of your touch, his muscles tensing and releasing under his silky skin. He let out a small whimper. His hands started to wander up your body, exploring your curves, but you could tell he was holding back. You leaned forward and kissed his sexy collarbone. Then you put out your tongue and licked along his throat until you reached his lower lip and bit down. He moaned quietly into your mouth. “You can take it off, you know? Don’t be shy.” Your hips rolled slightly to emphasize your words. A louder moan escaped his lips.

“Oh my god, you’re so hot.” He said almost in anguish. His hand hastily moved up your back and unzipped your dress. He started to peel your dress straps off your shoulders. You sat up to help him, pulling your dress over your head and carelessly throwing it into the corner of the room. His hands stilled for a second around your waist as he admired you on top of him in your black lace underwear. Then he continued his roaming, hands sliding under your bra und lightly squeezing your breast. You gave him a sly smile, “Are you enjoying the view?”

He sat up and started kissing up your neck as he unclasped your bra. “You’re so soft, you smell so good. You have no idea.” he sighed into your skin, sending shivers down your spine. Once he removed your bra, he pulled back so his hungry eyes could take in your naked beauty. His fingers and mouth followed suit. He pinched your left nipple with one hand while his mouth closed around your right nipple and started to suck bruises into your skin. You carded your fingers through his locks and threw your head back in pleasure. Look who was not so shy anymore.

Albeit his obvious desire for you, you were starting to get bored of these playful touches and decided it was time to kick it up a notch. You gave Jungkook a gentle shove on his chest. He fell back against the mattress as you pinned him down. “Play time is over, Jeon Jungkook.” Jungkook’s eyes widened, but then immediately settled on a lazy smile. What a beautiful man, you wanted to see him fall apart underneath your touch.

Slowly you slid down his body, your hands finding his belt. In one swift movement you removed his belt and started to unbutton his jeans. He lifted his hips so you could pull them off. You sat between his legs and your hands started to glide up. Your eyes followed your hands as you explored his irresistible body with fascination. You could feel how his muscles shifted and trembled as you went higher and higher up his thighs. Your hands stopped in their tracks just before you reached his bulge, which was very much straining against his underwear. You glanced up at Jungkook’s face. His eyes were trained on your hands; a cute little furrow formed between his brows as his focus was solely set on anticipating the sensation of your touch. He returned your glance with a desperate look as he realized you stopped. “Please,” he begged feebly.

“Please what? What is it you want, baby?” You teased.

“Please touch me. I want to feel you. You have no idea how hard I am right now. The dancing was torture.” Even his whining was pretty. Almost as pretty as his breathless pants as you ground against him on the dancefloor.

Your hands finally moved up to his bulge, you wrapped your hand around the outline of his cock and gave him a squeeze. “Well if you’re asking so nicely, who am I to refuse you?” He let out a delicious moan. It was like music to your ears.

Your hands pulled back his underwear and his throbbing cock finally sprang free. Damn, why was everything about him so pretty?

Jungkook blushed and chuckled softly as you realized you just said your last thought aloud. His shyness returned as he asked, “Do you really think my cock is nice?” You had other plans with him, but you just couldn’t resist to show him how much you appreciated the art that was his body.

“It’s very nice. I’m sure it also feels nice. Hmm, does it taste nice?” you deliberated giving him a cheeky grin. Jungkook gasped as you lowered your head and started to lick up his length. You gripped him with your right hand as your lips started to take in his head. Your left hand continued roaming up his beautiful torso. Gone were Jungkook’s thoughts as he cursed and clenched his hands around the bedsheet beneath him. You loved how intensely he seemed to respond to your every touch.

Your tongue licked his slit and tasted his precum, you bobbed your head once, twice and released his penis with a loud pop. You were elated as you took in Jungkook’s contorted face. Better pace yourself before the boy came right there and then. You still wanted to have some fun of your own. If he wasn’t naked underneath you, you couldn’t have guessed if he was in pain or pleasure. Maybe it was both. You writhed back up his body, put your hands on either side of his face and gave him another heated kiss. He opened his eyes as you pulled away, his pupils blown even wider. He already looked so breathtakingly fucked out and this was only the beginning. Jungkook’s hands wrapped around your ass and started to knead. He was searching for the friction he lost a second ago as he pushed your pelvis down against his cock. “Why did you stop? You feel so good,” his mouth turned into an adorable pout. Your heart squeezed. Fuck, what did you get yourself into?

Your hand gripped his jaw and shook his head slightly. “Tut, tut. Stop. Sit up for me, baby.” Jungkook wanted to protest but you slapped his hands off of you and sat up, your bodies losing complete contact. He started whining again, but stopped immediately and scrambled against the headboard, as he realized you were taking off your panties. You swung your leg back across his lap and sat back down on his crotch. His length running right against your slit. Your hands found their hold on his shoulders. You tested your position and gave your hip a roll. His cock throbbed at the pressure, you both let out a moan.

“Oh my god, you’re so wet and warm. This feels so good,” he groaned. His hands wrapped around your hips and his fingers dug into your flesh as you started to grind along his body. You moved rhythmically; your pussy coated his length in your wetness. Your lips found their way back to his. Your tongues slid against each other as you feverishly explored the other’s taste. You had to break away after a few moments, both of you breathless from the moans you were trying to hold back while kissing. His abs flexed and you let out a loud cry as his taut muscles rubbed against your clit. His face lit up at your reaction and he slightly shifted his hands and body to heighten the sensation. The tension was building up inside of you, you were grinding down harder and faster against him, thoughts completely scattered as you let your pleasure take over your senses. His nose skimmed along your shoulder as he inhaled your scent of lavender, sweat and sex. It was a jarringly intimate gesture, considering the lewdness you were performing right now. After a few moments his nose was replaced by his mouth and suddenly, he bit down on your skin as he tried to subdue another tormented groan. The sharp sensation in your shoulder only sent your senses further into overdrive. You keened.

“Shit, if you keep this up I’m going to cum. Please let me fuck you. Pl-l-lease.” Jungkook pleaded.

God he was so sexy when he was desperate. You brought his face back to yours and panted against his lips, “Mmmh baby, don’t you want to see me cum first? Be a good boy, if you cum now I’ll have to punish you. I want to feel your pretty cock inside me when you fall apart.” Jungkook’s entire body shuddered as he took in your words, he pressed his lips against yours and started to devour you as if he were starving, all the while flexing his abs to help you reach your climax. All at once, the tight ball in your gut unfurled and a hot wave of pleasure rolled across you body. You screamed with rapture and threw your head back, Jungkook let out another desperate moan against your throat. You slowed down your grinding and gave Jungkook a satisfied smile. The boy looked completely wrecked, you could see a vein straining against his neck as he tried to control his body’s reaction.

“You’re such a good boy. As a reward you get to choose how you want to have me.”

His haze lifted a bit as his eyes turned eager, “Are you sure?” You kissed his lower lip, pulled it between your teeth and purred, “Of course. However you want. Your choice.” His eyes darkened at your words. “Lay on your back.” His voice was hoarse, how cute.

You obediently lifted yourself off him and laid down on the bed. Let’s see what would happen when he took control. He briefly searched for his pants; you heard a crinkle as he opened a condom and slid it over his cock. He quickly returned and hovered over you, right hand stroking down your body as his left arm held him up. His fingers gave your nipples a painful pinch. You yelped in surprise. His gaze turned even darker as he continued to wander down your body.

“Spread your legs.” He commanded, his voice dropping an octave. A shiver went down your spine as you took in this new side. You opened yourself for him. A knowing smile spread across your face. Since you laid eyes on him, you had a feeling he wasn’t just a cute and shy boy. He needed to be riled up and coaxed.

Jungkook noticed your look. He pressed his lips against your ear and growled, “Do you think this is funny? To rub your pussy all over my dick and make a mess while all I’m allowed do is watch? Do you know how much I just want to fuck you into oblivion right now? But I won’t. If I fuck you right now, I don’t think I can last. I want to fuck you so hard you can’t walk anymore. That’s what you deserve for teasing me.” Your smile dropped, you were so incredibly turned on right now you thought you’d combust. Gone was his cuteness. Exactly in this moment, his thumb found your clit and pressed down. Your body arched underneath his touch as he began to rub with vigor. His left hand moved to your hip and pressed it down in place, while his mouth started a trail of kisses down your body. Once he reached your pussy he spread your folds apart and gave you a full lick. Your head turned to the side as you groaned into the pillow and your hands found their way back into his hair. Your hips tried to buck against his face, but his iron grip held you in place. He burrowed his head between your legs and started to eat you out with a hungry moan. After exploring your folds, his burning tongue started to penetrate you in powerful strokes and his nose nuzzled against your bud as he feasted on your arousal. The tension in your gut started to build up again. Your eyes rolled back in pleasure, he really knew what he was doing.

Then suddenly his mouth was gone. You frantically looked down at his glistening face as he gave you a seemingly angelic smile. This boy was going to be the death of you. You were about to complain when suddenly two of his fingers plunged into your body with a squelching sound. “Jungkook! Fu-uck!”

“Look at you. So delicious, so sweet. So wet, so needy. Isn’t this what you were looking for tonight? A good fuck?” His fingers continued pumping into you faster, curling them occasionally against your walls. Your mind was going blank, your pussy was clenching, you were almost there. “Oh my god, Jungkook!”

Suddenly he stopped again and removed his fingers from your pussy with a wet noise. He moved back up your body and gave you a roguish grin.

“Jungkook, what are you doing?” you asked in a weak voice. You couldn’t contain yourself anymore. Be it his hand or his dick, you had to cum.

“This is what you get for torturing me earlier. You’re so hot right now.” He gave you a chaste kiss on your lips. Your hands pulled at his hair. “Jeon Jungkook,” your voice turned dangerously low. He let out a throaty laugh. “You said however I wanted. Are you enjoying yourself?” You gave him a glare. Fine, he wanted to play?

“A good fuck? I’ll have to assume your cock is only pretty to look at if you won’t fu…” You couldn’t finish your sentence as the air got knocked out of your lungs. Jungkook’s hands suddenly lifted your knees over his shoulders and he surged forward, plunging his length all the way into you.

His breath hit your face as he let out a deep groan. “You just can’t let me win, can you? Happy?” Your hands gripped his shoulders as your body tried to adjust to the sudden new feeling. You felt so full, your thoughts didn’t leave much space for anything else except to revel at the feeling of his cock inside of you. After a moment your hips pushed against his, urging him to move. He slowly pulled back, dragging his cock against your walls in a painfully slow motion. “God you’re so tight. How do you feel so good?”

“Please… Please move.” You’ve never sounded this wanting in your life. He finally showed mercy, lifted your hips higher in a bruising hold and pushed back in with a powerful thrust. Your hands frantically searched purchase around his arms as he started drilling you into the mattress at a blinding pace. For a few long moments the only sound in the room was the incredibly dirty sound of your skin slapping and squelching against each other. Jungkook’s breath turned ragged, but he showed no intention of slowing down. Your face crumpled in a silent scream, tears sprang into your eyes, as he slightly shifted his position and hit your sweet spot. Your pussy clenched around his dick and he continued to angle his thrusts towards that spot. Your mind was spinning. You couldn’t form proper words anymore and a string nonsense left your mouth, “Jungkoonnng! So hnnng!”

Jungkook continued his brutal pace. One hand slid across your pelvis, found your clit and started rubbing. “You need to cum, baby. I can’t hold out much longer,” he ground through his teeth. You couldn’t take in what he was saying; your mind was too far gone. It hit you like a brick wall. The tension exploded and your orgasm washed over your entire body. You clamped down on him hard, he fell forward at the sensation but continued to thrust into you while his head hung in the crook of your neck. His chest heaved as he continued to chase his own high. Your walls fluttered and your pleasure continued to course through you. Jungkook snapped his hips one last time and came with a long groan. He collapsed onto you and you both lay there gasping for air.

After your breathing slowed down you gently stroked his head and his back. “That was incredible.”

“Mmhm,” Jungkook hummed in lazy agreement.

“Baby, you need to get off of me so I can clean up.” You said softly as you tried to push his heavy body off of yours.

“No.” Jungkook responded petulantly.

“What do you mean no?” This time you shoved a bit harder.

Jungkook wrapped his hands around your wrists and lifted his body. You noticed the feeling of his cock as he slipped out of you.

“I’m still hard. Turn over.” His deep voice returned.

Your eyes widened, “Jungkook, what do you mean?”

He gripped your body and flipped you over like a doll. You were too surprised to resist. He reached back into his pants and fetched another condom. “You said I could have you however I wanted. And I promised to fuck you so hard you couldn’t walk anymore.”

Jungkook slid behind you, lifted your hips up in the air and spread your legs apart. You were now on your underarms, cheek and chest pressed against the sheets.

“Jungkook I’m not sure I can take another round.” You never thought that you would say these words tonight.

“Shhh, don’t worry. Your pussy seems to disagree. God you’re beautiful from all angles...,” he ran his fingers through your folds and felt the wetness gather there anew. Your body betrayed you as you shuddered against his touch. He slowly grazed his nose along your spine, leaving a few kisses along the way. Once he reached the nape of your neck you felt the roll of his hips as his cock slowly rubbed against your folds. He ran both his hands down your arms, laced his fingers briefly with yours until they found their way back down your spine and rested in a tight grip around your hips. Then without a warning he entered with a fast stroke. He continued to snap his hips against yours, regaining his wild pace, accompanied by grunts every time he pushed back into you. You held onto the sheets with your dear life, having difficulties to hold your upper body in place. You didn’t know anymore which way was up or down.

At some point Jungkook seemed to get tired of you slipping and sliding around due to his forceful thrusts. One of his hands cupped your breast and in one smooth movement he lifted your back up against his chest, your head lolling onto his shoulder as he continued to thrust up into you. You tried to meet his strokes as best as you could as your gut tightened for the third time this evening.

“Kiss me.” He panted. How? You had no idea. But as you promised - what Jungkook wanted, Jungkook got.

It was a messy and wet kiss. At this point you were basically just inhaling each other’s breath and spit, your mouths trying to keep up with the pounding movement of your bodies.

Jungkook grabbed your fingers with his hand which wasn’t holding you upright and started moving it toward your clit. You caught on to his intention and started to rub yourself down under his guidance. You long stopped suppressing the moans which you breathed continuously into his mouth.

Jungkook was also losing his mind. “God you’re so hot. How can you be so hot?” he muttered against your garbled sounds. You were wound so tight, you were going to combust any moment. Then Jungkook’s cock suddenly pulsed inside you as he came hard and strong. For the second time he bit down on your shoulder, this time his own immense pleasure causing wreckage to his body. The mixture of different sensations, his cock pulsing against your walls, the sharp pain of his bite and both your fingers against your clit, caused you to also fall apart in that moment. Everything flashed white as your strongest orgasm yet overtook your senses.

Jungkook dropped his hands and you fell limply against the bed, unable to move a single muscle. A second later his body thumped against the mattress right next to you. You were both plastered in sweat and out of breath.

“You were right.” Jungkook heaved between gulps of air, eyes still somehow bright and shining. “Talking to you was the best decision ever.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you took in his boyish excitement after the filthiest bouts of sex in your life.

This pretty boy was definitely going to be the death of you.

°°°°°°° 26/03/20

#jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook #bts #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #jungkook au #bts au #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #jungkook imagines #bts imagines #jungkook reaction #bts reaction #jungkook scenarios #bts scenarios #smut #oneshot #best decision ever

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yayteaberry · 3 years

Text

*SFW* Wildflowers (Bakugou)

He hadn’t shown it, but he was very angry with you. An inordinate amount, yet there wasn’t room to do much about it without looking insane.

Your quirk wasn’t something he didn’t notice, it was manipulative and sneaky. The quirk was certainly notable in that he’d never heard of it before that point, someone producing pheromones to influence the people around them accordingly was a powerful thing to have on your side.

But for someone who was trying to become a hero, you had a seriously sadistic sense of humor. He didn’t notice it at first but now it was becoming a problem.

Obviously, you were toying with him.

The reason? He couldn’t say, there wasn’t any discernible gain beyond embarrassing him. Maybe that was the end goal then - keep him from his top performance by distracting him. In the span of two months he’d gone from refusing to memorize any names, to knowing your schedule like the back of his hand, and that was a major problem. It was an unintentional side effect, he wanted to be sure of wherever you were so he could try to prepare himself for your fuckery.

He spent a lot of time trying to recall if he’d known you in the past, why you would torture him like this. Though he never dredged up anything meaningful, at no point before UA had you even attended the same school as him.

At first it was a light annoyance, something he could dismiss as initial nerves brought on by someone who could have power over him.

But it was getting unmanageable, he was wasting his time thinking about your dumbass when he was supposed to be focusing on his studies or counting the number of pushups he was doing.

You can’t be worth all this stress and attention, he knows there has to be an outside source. Why on earth would he feel this way otherwise? Somehow you’ve managed to become his greatest annoyance but also the one person he never minds being around.

Somehow, pft, it was obvious that you’ve been using your quirk to keep him from being a threat, keep him away from being better than you by softening him up.

The worst part of it all was your own passiveness. You acted like you didn’t even know him while doing this to him, rarely looking in his direction and never speaking to him unless spoken too.

He was losing control of his own thoughts, getting visibly upset whenever Kaminari said a single thing about you. For his own sake he just chalked that talk up to Kaminaris delusional teenage antics, as if you’d ever give that freak the time of day. Why did he care? Why should he care? He never felt anything in that degree when Kaminari picked anyone else, what makes you so radically different?

Things were getting messy for him, blurry and confusing, too many questions piling up that had only one answer. You were ruining his mind with your stupid quirk. It’s your own fault! You’ve infested his soul at this point, rewiring him to brainwash him into doing whatever you ask.

Today was the last straw, he can’t take this anymore! Every day he just waits for you to ask him for whatever you’re building up too, knowing in his heart that you’re about to take advantage of what you’ve been planting within him. He’ll be damned if you turn him into a cowering sidekick.

The moment he knew for sure you’d be in your dorm, he made a plan.

Well, ‘plan’ being the surge of adrenaline that filled him at the prospect of tiptoeing around you for the rest of his time at UA, potentially even once he became a pro.

He decided he’d confront you, make you stop, and everything would go back to normal. After this he could finally resume his climb to #1 without your claws pulling him down.

It’s that thought he repeats to himself like a mantra as he speed walks over and kicks the door of your room wide open.

You yelp and nearly jump off your bed, the combination of being scared like that and seeing the boy responsible nearly ejecting your soul out of your body.

“I’m sick and tired of your fuckin’ bullshit!” He stomps inside, kicking the door a second time to close it.

You stifle the urge to scream, scrambling away until your back hits the wall, hands up as you try to defuse the situation. “Wait, wait! Hey now w-whatever you think I did, I swear I didn’t, if you’ll let me-”

“Shut the fuck up! There’s no hypothetical here, you’re fucking with me for fun and if you don’t stop it right now I’m gonna kill you!”, he curls his lip up, sparks lighting up in his palms as he tries to force a confession out of you.

“... What?” You’re completely lost, letting your confusion show as your shoulders drop.

“Don’t you ‘what’ me! Keep playing ignorant and see where that gets you!”, he raises his voice up another notch, taking a step forward. “I’m not an idiot like the rest of those extras, I see what you’re doing! You really think someone as smart as me wouldn’t notice!?”

“I never said you were an idiot! But I swear to god I have no idea what you’re talking about!” You spout anxiously, pulling your knees into your chest, feeling fully cornered.

He just rolls his eyes, closing the gap between him and the edge of your bed. “Oh so now you act all pathetic when I call you out on it to try and get me to feel bad? It isn’t gonna work! I-!”

When he inhales he catches onto the smell in the air, eyebrows knitting together as he feels an instant calming effect from it. “... The fuck?”

“That’s my quirk, that’s what it smells like when I want someone to calm down,” you shakily explain, still holding your hands out like you’re going to have to push him away, sending out as much relaxation pheromones as physically possible.

His shoulders roll back and he stops making his standard ugly expression, face zeroed out in a way you’ve only seen once or twice when he gets invested in something enough to forget he’s around others.

It’s cute, but right now it's more of a sign he’s no longer about to throttle you. “Yeah this is familiar in a way, when we’re in training I think. Guess I never noticed it could be pretty. Usually I’m just pissed that you’re trying to beat me.” For once he’s using an inside voice, which feels oddly personal since you’ve only heard him screaming. It almost seems like whispering in comparison. “So you can choose to make it scented? Masking it so people don’t see it coming is smart. But it’s not so smart now since I know what you’re doing.”

“Mask it? I kinda can’t, the point is that people breathe it in, if they can’t smell it then it doesn’t really work. I really do mean it when I say I have no clue what you think I’m ‘up to’.” You begin to ease off the output, not wanting to knock him out, which you’ve accidentally done before.

“No you have to be, it doesn't make any sense otherwise. You’re doing something or I wouldn’t be feeling this way. Don’t bother lying to me, I’ve already caught you.” He’s still passive but he crosses his arms over his chest, tilting his head.

You give an exasperated huff, “Feeling what way!”

“It’s so fuckin out there that I’m surprised you don’t use this tactic more in training. It’s totally obvious that you’re doing something to make it so I’m the only one who can smell your stink. You’re manipulating me, otherwise there’s no way in hell I’d be so dopey around you. Why the fuck else would I notice whenever you’re gone? Feel compelled to return your pens that you always drop since you’re such a klutz?”, he speaks as if it’s common fact, rolling his eyes as he continues, “You rope me in daily with these little details that you heighten by using your quirk, and then it’s like you have no idea who I am. Since you’re so comfortable living in my head, you should’ve seen this coming.”

That's much more than you expected him to say, a light pink dusting across the bridge of your nose at the confession he has unintentionally given you.

“I-I can’t remember a single time you’ve done that,” is all you can think to say.

He clicks his tongue against his teeth, lolling his head from side to side as he formulates a response. “It’s just like when return all the shit you drop but you pretend to not notice, and you’re doing the same thing right now. It was confusing at first but now I’m just getting irritated that you keep playing dumb. Stop working your dumb stinky magic to turn me into your lackey, get someone else to do your dirty work if that’s what you’re looking for.”

“Bakugou I’ve never done that to you, I wouldn’t!”, you stammer for a half second, making a judgement call on how you should handle this, and deciding to come clean. “I actually… I really like you…. I-I respect your work ethic, how strong you are, confident as well, I wanted to gain your attention through the right ways!” You sit up on your knees and make eye contact with him, trying your best to convey how much you mean what you’re saying. “If I wanted you drooling on my shoes then you would be, but everyone around me would be doing the same, my quirk isn’t selective like that. But I wanted to get noticed by you more than I wanted to chance annoying you as a first impression… I really wanted to have a reason to approach someone like you first.”

“Well that’s a stupid way to go about it. I can’t afford to have these kinds of distractions so if anything you put a lot of effort into just, wasting my time.” He’s nearly hesitating on some words. But he pulls himself together, staring you down for a moment. “So I’m done with this. I’m not doing this anymore, I’m done playing games.”

You can’t understand the logic here.

He comes barging into your room, demanding you stop making him like you against his will, and when he finds out it’s organic plus you feel the same way, he somehow manages to reject you? It stings, a lot.

“Yes or no.”, he sternly interrupts your quickly spiraling thoughts.

“Yes or no..?” Flat out confused for the millionth time, you blink a few times, pulling back the tears that threatened to spill over at his initial rejection.

“I’m not asking again.”, he curtly spits out.

“But what are you asking yes or no for?” You squint at him, unsure and waiting for him to say something along the lines of ‘Yes to dying or no to living’.

“Are we dating or not! Yes or no goddamnit!” He’s blushing brighter than you at this point, eyes pointed to various places in your room where you aren’t, shifting in place uncomfortably.

Suddenly it dawns on you.

Even after hearing your returned confession he doesn’t think you’ll say yes.

“Yes, Bakugou, of course.”, you say with a warm smile, reaching forward to hold his hand.

His sigh of relief as he relaxes his posture strikes you as intensely adorable, though your heart skips a beat when he shoots you a smirk. “That’s what I thought you’d say.”

#bakugou katuski x reader #sfw #bakugou katsuki #gender neutral reader #gn reader #bakugou fluff #mha fluff #fluff #a03 fic

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unrelenting-jazz-hands · 3 years

Text

He picked the wrong seat.

(This is something that’s been floating in my head. I love college!AUs and I’m just happy to be here. I like the idea of Levi studying to be a social worker and Hange being a behavioural Neuropsychology prof/researcher. plus Hange would have rats... this fic is just a place for her to have rats and rat friends.)

He didn’t know it when he first sat down on the couch, but he should have known it when a woman in maroon sweatpants staggered up to his couch.

She placed the tower of books and papers she was carrying onto the couch with a grunt that let on how heavy the pile had been. She shook out her arms before sitting on the other side of newly formed blockade. Levi glanced her way and leaned over to throw a scowl, to make sure she knew the disruption was not appreciated.

But she just sat quietly and read. So, he didn’t move, he figured it would be fine. He should have moved.

And she just sat quietly and read. So, he didn’t move, he figured it would be fine. He should have moved.

"Hange! Hey, Hange! There you are, why didn't you answer your phone?" A young man jogged over to the woman sitting on the couch next to Levi.

Levi's scowl deepened, and he glanced at his watch, not for the first time in the last 15 minutes. His own class finished over an hour ago, but Isabel's lecture wouldn't be finished for another 45 minutes. It was getting late, and as the air grew colder, the nights were getting darker. He didn't like the idea of her walking home alone at this time of night. Furlan thought he was being dramatic, they weren’t on Understreet anymore.

The kid approached the couch and dropped his bag unceremoniously at her feet. He looked a little older than Isabel. Fuck, he was dreading the day she introduces some dumb boyfriend to him.

The woman slowly looked up and seemed more startled than she should have been to see the kid in front of her. She blinked and looked at her watch.

"Oh, it's 6:45 already? Hey Jean! Sorry, I lost track of time." One of her hands was still on the stack of books that was starting to lean just a little too much for Levi's comfort.

He shifted away and glanced around the room. The atrium was busy and noisy. There wouldn't be anywhere else to sit this side of campus on a gloomy September night. The choices were to either sit here or to stand somewhere like a weirdo. He grumbled to himself and looked back down at his notes.

Jean shrugged, "All good, Hange. But, where's your phone? You didn't see my messages?"

Hange looked down at the report in her hand as though she expected herself to be holding the phone. "Oh... I thought I had it." She attempted to pat down her jacket pockets (of which there were far too many) and then tried to use her foot to move her bag towards her.

Glancing up at the kid with a slight frown, "what's up? Why? Did something happen at the lab?"

"No," Jean said with smile, "Armin was just asking what time he should tell his tutorial the kick-off party starts. And then just to say that the slides for the lecture tomorrow look good."

Levi watched out of the corner of his eyes as Jean bent down to help the woman check her bag for her phone and mumbled, "We really should get you a case you can clip to your belt or something…"

"A-ha!" Hange raised a fist clenched around a flip phone, and then suddenly, she was holding it with two hands.

Her pile of books had had enough and was about to topple over when Levi's arms shot out to steady the tower before it collapsed on the brunette. She hadn't even noticed.

He didn't mean to catch the books before they fell. He really hadn't planned on moving at all; the books weren't even falling his way. It was her own damn fault if she didn't notice. But, his body was just too used to moving quickly to catch pictures, mugs, and lamps before they could reach the floor. It wasn't a coincidence that they didn't have many breakables in the apartment, what with the way Isabel was constantly twirling around and Furlan's sleepwalking.

When Hange did notice, a few seconds later, she let out a startled yelp and attempted to use her whole body to steady her library.

"Shit, no! That's making it worse," Levi said, not bothering to hide his annoyance. He steadied the pile again and kept his arms holding it up for a while longer before shooting a glare to the airhead next to him.

"Sorry, sorry!" Hange said with a laugh. She grinned at him from around the books, "thanks a bunch, though! Wild reflexes!"

He rolled his eyes, "You just weren't paying attention."

She raised an eyebrow and cracked a grin, "what? Were you staring at me?"

Levi felt his cheeks go warm and diverted his gaze from the woman's laughing eyes.

"No, I wasn't," he said curtly, "I was just sitting in the fucking danger zone."

He made sure the books were steadied before he picked up his notebook again.

The kid in front of them coughed and shifted around uncomfortably. "Thanks, man," he said while giving Levi a quick once over. "If those textbooks go down, all the paper she's stuffed into them would have ended up everywhere. It took hours to match the notes up to their text pages again."

Jean reached over and started restacking Hange's stuff on the floor while she held on. She still looked like she found the whole thing much too funny for Levi's liking. He decided not to look her way.

"You should really organize your shit better," Levi mumbled, keeping his eyes on his paper.

Hange leaned her head back against the couch, "aww, man... that's what everyone says. I've tried, guys! It just never lasts." She let out an exasperated sigh.

Jean muttered something too quiet for Levi to catch, but Hange nudged him with her foot and shot him a look.

"Well, enjoy carting around half the library then..." Levi shot her way and that, he hoped, was their last interaction.

Hange looked down at Levi's open binder, which was neatly labelled and visibly well organized.

She let out a small "huh," before turning her attention to the kid again.

"Alright, Jean! Well, the kick-off party starts at 8:30 at the Wallflower. I'll head over after my lectures and locking up the lab." She frowned, "wait, why wouldn't people join? Puppy therapy is always super busy."

Jean sighed and leaned his head to the side, "yeah, but Hange. I mean, the hype just isn't the same with rats. Plus, the lab is intense and the hours for the regular meetings are kind of random."

Levi frowned at his notes. What the fuck? Fucking weirdo...

Hange sighed, "yeah, you're right." Then shot him a bright grin, "But! I swear I'm about to get a big grant to really kick it all up a notch! We're really getting somewhere, and we can maybe take on a few more assistants next semester to help with all the data entry that's going to need to happen!" She was basically bouncing.

She paused and looked around the room quickly before returning her fiery gaze back to Jean, who was looking a little frazzled.

"And get this, Jean Boy, I've been working on something with Moblit. I can't get into it right now, but it could be really big if it all goes according to plan. Like really big!" She was bouncing again. Her hand gestures were getting more exaggerated and much too close to Levi's personal space. He decided to just lean away and scowl instead of getting dragged into another conversation.

Jean narrowed his eyes, "Wait, like big for you and research nerds or big as in normal people big."

Hange grabbed his hands, "like brand new wing big. Like the Rat Pack Club goes on vacation big."

Levi was still looking at his notes. He had to admit he was starting to be a little more curious than he was annoyed. She was trying to whisper but wasn't doing a very good job at it. God, it was like she didn't know how to be quiet.

"Wait, so this is something you're working on with Dr. Berner? I thought you were still heartbroken from him switching labs," Jean asked while trying to take his hands back. "Is he back?"

Hange shook her head, and her smile dimmed a little, "no, my ride or die still over at the Medical Imaging Lab in the comp sci building." She perked up and continued on, "But! It may have worked out for us in the end!"

Jean looked a little less tired now, "huh... well, when can you tell us about it? Who knows about it?"

Hange let out a low chuckle, "uh, well, don't tell anyone. It started as just a little side project for Moblit, Nanaba, Nifa, and me. We didn't expect it to really go anywhere. So keep it to yourself, for now, I'll let y'all know when I can."

Jean nodded. He looked determined and, suddenly, a lot younger than he had a minute ago. He gave a mock salute, "you got it, Doc!"

Hange mirrored his salute and gave him a wink. "Awesome, ok! Oh, also, did you have any questions about tomorrow's lecture?"

Jean shrugged and shook his head, "nah, I looked it over, and it's pretty chill. Cog Psyc was a fun course."

Levi glanced up and looked at the top right corner of his notes. Intro to Cognitive Psychology.

"And that's exactly the vibe we want this semester! Fun!" Hange exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air.

"Yeah… ok, fun. I can do that," Jean mumbled. "I'll tell Armin," he said as he turned to go. The kid waved lazily over his shoulder, "See ya tomorrow, Hange!"

"Get home safe, Jean! Tell Sasha and Connie I say hello," Hange waved to the back of the kid's head before leaning back and slouching down.

"Rat Pack Club goes on vacation. Ha! Take that monkey brain," Hange muttered with a smile. She closed her eyes like she getting ready to take a long nap in the middle of the atrium, which was getting less busy as time went by.

"Oh!" She exclaimed and shot up and turned to face Levi with a much-too-bright smile, "I forgot to introduce myself!"

She stuck out a hand that was covered in ink smudged. Levi felt the corner of his lips fall and held back a snarky comment; he really was trying to be less pissy, as Isabel put it. He sighed and reached out to shake her hand. He had hand sanitizer in his pocket.

"I'm Zoe Hange, but please call me Hange! Nice to meet you, and thanks for saving my books!"

Levi nodded, "Levi." He went to take his hand back, but the weirdo was still shaking it.

"You're taking Psyc 221 tomorrow, right? That's awesome. I hope you're ready for a heckin' good semester, Levi!" Hange was still shaking his hand.

"Yeah. Yeah, it sounds great," Levi mumbled as he jerked his hand away from her grip.

"Is this your first semester here? Transfer student? Do you live on campus? What courses are you taking?" Hange kept going as though he looked happy to be there instead of inching away and gathering his papers to leave.

"Second semester here, transferred from Wallrose College," Levi muttered. He didn't want to admit it, but Hange's enthusiasm was putting him on edge. What the fuck was she on?

Hange nodded enthusiastically, "That's great! Welcome, and if you ever need anything, don't hesitate to ask! I'll be your lecturer for PSYC 221. My lab's down in the Neuro wing, so feel free to stop by if you have any questions!" She pointed down the hall that had a staircase at the end of it. "I always really enjoy having some older students," she continued, "at least someone to make eye contact with when the kids make a reference I don't know." Hange smiled at him before rummaging through her pocket and proceeding to hand him a business card. He didn't want to take it, but he also didn't want to piss off his professor. Fuck it, whatever.

"I know what you mean. My younger sister is always trying to get me to do these stupid fucking dances for TikTok or whatever the fuck," Levi grumbled out as he looked over the card. His eyes flicked upwards to meet hers.

"[email protected]?" He asked with a raised eyebrow. He didn't let it leak into his voice, but, shit… She had to be a few years younger than he was, and she was a professor and director of a research lab. He didn't want to say he was impressed, but he was. But she was also a fucking weirdo.

Hange nodded and smiled widely. She reached back into her pocket, grabbed the card back from Levi, and scrawled something down with the newly retrieved pen. The pen was labelled, pocket pen.

"Yeah! It's the email address for the club I started with some students. My research lab has been doing some behavioural studies with rats, and it's hard not to fall for their little paws and their little eyes. So, every now and then, we get together and hang out and chill with some rats. This Friday, we are having our kick-off party. You should stop by!"

Hange handed him the card back. It had a time, a date, and an address.

"This is more of a social gathering at a bar near campus, not really a regular meeting. It's mostly just a bunch of research assistants and a few of us old folk having some drinks," Hange shrugged, still smiling. She wasn't done, "the usual meetings are chilling with the rats and throwing around ideas. Sometimes the students pitch us some experiments, and then we give them feedback."

Levi didn't think he would go. To the meetings or the party tomorrow. Hell, he knew for sure he wasn't going to go. Still, he nodded and muttered out a half-assed, "sure."

"Plus! The kids don't stay too long at the parties. They eventually head out after a few drinks to the next destination to get trashed where their profs can't see them. So it's only rowdy for a little while. It's been a while since I made it to the second location. I'm not that old, but I'm not that young anymore." She laughed lightly, and Levi was caught off guard by how pretty the sound was.

"I can't Fridays," Levi said as he pocketed the card, "I work Friday afternoons."

Hange nodded, "It's 8:30 to late-thirty, so stop on by if you want! Or if you know someone who'd-"

She was cut off by someone dropping their bag onto Levi's lap.

"What the fuck?" He started, looking up with a scowl. Of fucking course it was Isabel. He looked at his phone and saw 5 missed calls.

"Dude, what's the point of having a phone if you never answer it," Isabel said with a little more sass than Levi was used to. His brow furrowed. He'd ask about that later.

"Don't be a shit," he said gruffly, but still more gently than his usual tone. She made him worry like that. "My phone was on silent."

"Hi! You must be Levi's sister! He mentioned he had a younger sister." Hange stood up and grabbed Isabel's hand with a smile, "I'm Hange. I'll be your brother's professor starting tomorrow. Should I be keeping an eye on him? I feel like he's going to give me a hard time." Hange gave Isabel a wink and a smirk, which the younger girl returned. She looked a little less tense than she had a minute ago.

"Pfft, Nah. He's pretty bland." Isabel replied and shook Hange's hand with significantly more enthusiasm than Levi had. "I'm Isabel. Thanks for engaging with Mr. Grumpy here. He usually just sits there like a weirdo."

Levi stood up and thrust Isabel's bag back into her arms, "Ok, time to go." He turned on his heel and started walking away at a brisk pace.

Hange shouted out, "bye, Levi! See ya tomorrow!"

Levi waved over his shoulder but stopped when he didn't hear Isabel following behind him.

Isabel was still standing next to Hange, who was staring at her pile of books. He groaned and made his way back to the couch as Hange leaned down and tried to pick up the stack.

He placed a hand on Isabel's shoulder and attempted to steer her away.

"Isabel let's go," Levi said.

The young lady shook her head, "Nah. I'm catching a ride with some friends. We're gonna go get some food before heading home! So don't worry about me!" Isabel gave him a look and gestured towards Hange, still mapping out a game plan. Levi pretended not to notice her look and shot her a glare of his own.

"Isabel. Dammit, why did you tell me that before I stayed till the end of your classes?"

Hange let out a chortle and glanced up at them, "Ha! Classic. Have fun, kid!"

"Well, since you don't need to worry about me," Isabel said sweetly, "you're free right now. Hange, let Levi help you with this!" She shoulder-checked Levi and stuck out her tongue at him with a grin.

"I'm sure she's fine," Levi said.

"Oh, man! I would so appreciate it!" Hange all but yelled, standing up suddenly. Her head smashed right into Levi's chin, making them both groan and bring their hands up to their respective injuries.

"Dammit, four-eyes. Be fucking careful," Levi growled. He shot Isabel a look, but it didn't stop her giggling. He was losing his edge.

"Ok, bye! I have my phone, and it won't be on silent!" She waved and hurried off in the direction of the exit. There was a group of girls who waved, laughing, before walking off together. Levi let out an exasperated sigh, but he was happy to see she was making friends. She deserved it.

Groaning, he looked back down. Hange… was just sitting on the floor, next to her pile of books. No, she wasn't just sitting there. She was reading a book.

"Yo, four-eyes. You want help or not."

"Hmm?" She looked up as though unsure of who was talking to her. She blinked her big, brown eyes and then smiled. Her lips formed a little oh, and though she only just remembered where she was. "Oh, yes! Sorry, I got side-tracked there for a minute. How's your chin! I'm really sorry about that!"

She stood and reached out to touch Levi's face.

He took a step back, "You were just touching the floor. I don't want you touching my face!" He felt his cheeks warm up a bit and shifted his gaze. He picked up most of the stupid, fucking books.

She chuckled and reached down to pick up the rest. She looked at him with a grin and replied, "that's a fair point, Shorty."

"Shorty?" Levi all but dropped the books. "Whatever, Four-eyes," he said and stormed away.

He heard some undignified sputtering as she tried to think of a comeback. He smirked. Good, she should feel bad.

"You just called me Four-eyes? What, I can't call you Shorty?"

"Not when I'm doing you a favour," he shot back. " And after you try to break my face!"

"No! Come back, Shor- Levi! I mean... I mean, come help me, Levi," she sounded whiney. He wasn't sure if he liked that sound.

He turned around and saw her trying to pick up the stack again. He let out a sigh and dragged his feet back to the fucking weirdo, again.

"Oh my fucking god… Why do you even have this many books with you?" He said gruffly as he took an armful of the offending items.

"Research!" Hange exclaimed as though it was obvious. She started to walking away at a surprisingly fast pace.

"What the fuck, slow down, weirdo," Levi said. In-fucking-credible.

"Well, come on then!" Hange said, glancing over her shoulder. "My office isn't too far away."

It sure felt like it was, though.

After winding their way through the halls and then down several sets of stairs, Hange finally unlocked a door and turned on the lights of her office. It was absolutely filled with books, with stacks of papers covering every surface. She shuffled into the room, stepping over a few plastic boxes, and placed her cargo on her chair. It was the only surface that had any space. Hange motioned for Levi to hand her his share, which she placed on the ground, next to the chair.

"Fuck, Hange. How the hell do you ever find anything?" Levi said, unable to hide the growing frustration from his tone. He didn't like clutter, and he really didn't like this room. "This is a fucking mess."

"Oh, it's not that bad! I can find what I need eventually!" She waved her hand and flicked off the lights. Hange picked up two plastic boxes, letting out a small grunt as she did so.

"Alright! Let's head out. Close the door, would you?" She nodded to the open door.

"What's in the boxes?" Levi asked, shutting the door. He had no idea why he was still here. Why was he still here, talking to this lunatic. God, he shuttered thinking of the stacks of paper in that little office.

"Oh, just old notebooks that I need to shred, some speakers I need to donate, and then a lot of rat food to bring to the shelter."

He had forgotten about the rats.

He looked over at the tall, lanky woman. She was obviously struggling. Shit.

"Give me those," he muttered as he took the boxes from her.

She let out an audible sigh as she shook out her arms, "oof, thanks a bunch! Ok, it's over this way!"

Levi glanced her way, "what is?"

"My apartment!"

He felt weird about this. He didn't know this person. Well, he did, or he would know her. Tomorrow, anyways. It still felt weird. He wasn't sure he really knew why. He nodded silently and followed her.

He paused when he looked down.

"Are you wearing fucking crocs?"

#levihan #college!au #levi is a loving older brother #and Hange is a delight #I’d carry her books #a mess but I hope u like this mess #aot #attack on titan fanfic #fanfic #levihan fic #myposts

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keelywolfe · 3 years

Text

FIC: Knick Knack Paddy Whack (BAON)

Summary: As far as Stretch is concerned, there's only one solution when you're addicted to thrift stores. Selling all the crap you bought so you can buy more!

Notes: Stepping outside of the main storyline for a moment, we'll get back to the aftermath we're all expecting in a moment. 😁

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationships, Domestic Fluff

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

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Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

Stretch was a bonafide thrift-a-holic, he honestly was, and he knew it. It was an important thing to know about yourself, really, because certain problems arose from bad case of oooh-shiny-itis.

Sure, one ceramic zombie hand thrusting up from the dresser to hold his rings and change was an awesome thing to behold, but an entire collection of zombie hands was a tough sell to the person you were living with, especially if that person was Edge. Not that he’d managed to find a collection of zombie hands and if he had, that thrift store would have been on the weekly check list, for sure. But the same premise applied to ‘zombie hand plus an entire horde of other bizarre ceramics surrounding it’.

Stretch wasn’t bitter about the limitations when it came to his collection, nah, he got it. There were certain things you couldn’t ask for from the person you love, and a house filled up with weird tchotchkes that looked like they belonged to the grandmother of the chainsaw massacre family was a step too far. Plus, asking Edge for more space would be unfair. He’d either agree because he didn’t want to tell Stretch no, or he’d say no and feel bad about it. Nah, the set of porcelain dragons playing instruments in a rock band he’d found wasn’t that important, not if it gave Edge a case of the guilts.

Problem was, Stretch really couldn’t resist sometimes. How was he supposed to turn away a wedding painting of Yoda and Kermit the frog? Or a coffee mug with a penguin orgy on it? He couldn’t, that’s how, but his allotted space was filling up in the house proper and soon he’d started to amass quite the collection in his lab, too. It was when the overflow expanded enough to start infringing on his erlenmeyer flasks that he decided he needed a new strategy. Science waited for no one and definitely not anything with the word ‘taxidermy’ included.

That’s when Stretch came up with the plan. Okay, it wasn’t a plan, exactly, more like a flash in the pants of brief inspiration, but hell, he’d been flying by on those his entire life, why stop now?

One of the places he frequented was an antique mall, which was a fancy way of saying one rung on the ladder above actual thrift store, except they rented stalls for people to sell their stuff, so maybe it was more like a glorified garage sale. People carted in their junk for other people to buy and the cashier up front handled all the transactions. Minimal time, minimal effort, that was exactly what he and his kitsch needed, so Stretch went ahead and rented a stall of his own.

The not-exactly-a-plan worked out pretty well. He could buy something at the thrift shop and proudly display it for a while around the house, and then when it came time to replace it with a new find, he’d add it to his stall and whatever money came from it, he donated to the local kid’s charity that the Antique Mall supported. That meant he got in his kicks and joy without looking like a prequel to a Hoarders episode and Edge only had to deal with the octopus tentacle ashtray for a few weeks.

Seriously, it was a win-win all the way around.

A few things did take up permanent residence, of course; he couldn’t give up his zombie hand. But so long as it wasn’t a clown, (clowns were disposed of by Edge immediately and with great prejudice), he was allowed things like his nested Matryoshka dolls of Nicolas Cages for a time.

About once a week he went down to add new things to his stall, mostly during the weekday hours when the buses were on the empty side and he could take up an extra seat with his box of additions. It wasn’t exactly a secret, Andy came along a few times to help, but he never really mentioned it to Edge. Not until today when Stretch realized he’d let things go a little too long and he had some extra boxes to haul down.

Better to take care of it while he was thinking about it, otherwise it tended to turn into an endless cycle of ‘oh, I should do that today’ and him forgetting, but aside from the extra lugging required, it was also Saturday and the bus would be loaded. Hitching a ride would be required, plus a little extra muscle, and his husband was his favorite source for both.

He found Edge in the kitchen, sitting at their temporary table with his laptop and yeah, it was Saturday, time to drag him away from whatever bullshit work he was doing. Stretch put on his best wheedling face and asked, “babe? can you give me a lift today?”

“Of course.” Edge didn’t look up, what a total waste of Stretch’s beguiling charms. His gloved fingertips were soft against the keyboard as he finished whatever he was typing before glancing up at Stretch, and maybe his schmoozing wasn’t entirely wasted; the way Edge closed the lid on his laptop spoke of a guilty conscious for working on his day off. “Where are we going?”

“downtown,” Stretch tucked his hands into his pockets and rocked on his heels. “i need to hit up my junk and disorderly shop.”

That got him a pause, “Your what?”

“heh, you’ll see.” Stretch curled a finger at Edge in a ‘come hither’ motion that his husband didn’t follow, only watched suspiciously. “c’mon, i need you to help me carry some stuff.”

“This ride is starting to sound less like transport and more like a chore.” But Edge followed him to the basement for the boxes, and, surprise surprise, his willingness to help went up a few notches from wary to eager when he figured out what Stretch was doing. Eh, couldn’t blame him. At the top of the pile was a plush frog with the top hat that played ‘hello my baby’ whenever you pushed on its foot, something Red did every single time he walked past it, plus anytime he’d felt like shortcutting in for a quick press. Time to let it damage the sanity of another family.

The boxes were tossed into the trunk of Edge’s car, frog and all, and soon they were on the road, heading downtown. Truth be told, Stretch wasn’t sure what Edge would make of the place. He tolerated thrift stores well enough, but the antique mall was a different kind of beast. An entire building of obscure collections cluttered together into eclectic displays that others were trying to barter and sell.

There were stalls filled with milk crates of old records, shelves and shelves of antique glassware and dishes. Some stalls had vintage clothing, feathery boas mixed in with disco pants and ruffled aprons. Old instruments, rusty farm equipment, strange kitchen gadgets that looked more dangerous than useful, this place had everything and then some.

Plus, the mall had a certain sort of smell, a musty, dusty scent verging on decay that settled into the sinuses and hung around for a while. Stretch thought it was the smell of a life well-lived and he kinda liked it; after years of thrifting, he associated it with finding treasures, but who knew if Edge felt the same. His tastes in smells (heh) ran more to clean and green, not old-timey funk. Could be it reminded him of shower mildew.

Whatever his opinion of the odors, Edge kept it to himself. He helped with the box carrying and checked out Stretch’s stall curiously but didn’t say much. Probably recognized the stuff on the shelves as having once been on a table or Stretch’s nightstand, until the glee wore off and it ended up gathering dust in the basement. He wandered off at some point, heading into the depths of the mall, and left Stretch to restock his meagre wares.

It took longer than he’d expected. Since he’d opened up his stall, not everything Stretch found thrifting found its way into the house proper anymore. Some of it he bought as a straight-to-video option and he was getting pretty good at finding interesting doodads at the thrifty places that might sell better here, location, location, location, that was the ticket.

Stretch always priced his junk reasonably, usually not much more than he’d paid for it. Wasn’t like he needed the money, and besides, Stretch knew himself pretty damn well, therapy did that to a guy. At the end of the day, he knew what this was really about; all an elaborate scheme to satisfy the inner packrat in his soul that struggled sometimes with giving things away.

Bartering had been built in him before he could say the word; in the Underground, he’d gotten damn good at getting deals for what he could scrounge at the dump. This was the same thing, really, just with slightly different stakes. Dinner wasn’t riding on his latest stash of dvds anymore, always a plus, and these days he could simply look at the empty shelves, content in the knowledge that his Smeagol cardboard cutout had found a new home.

Hey, therapy wasn’t the only way to work out a few kinks in your internal lines.

When the last box was emptied, Stretch wandered up to the front desk to give the lady who ran the front register his new inventory list. That was when he heard it.

There was an old piano up front with a sign on it that said, ‘Do not ‘play’ if you cannot play’. Most of the time it sat silently but someone up there was giving it a good try today. The notes were slower, with obvious hesitations as the player searched for the correct keys, but the song was one Stretch knew. Gently melancholy, a match to the cautious playing.

His curiosity piqued, Stretch wandered over to watch and he wasn’t entirely surprised to see Edge sitting on the piano bench, his attention on his hands as he slowly played. It was a tough choice between watching him play and simply listening to the song and Stretch found himself trying to do both. The uncertain skill in hands he knew so well as they coaxed the music free.

When the last note faded, a faint smattering of applause came from the different stalls around them. Stretch waited for it to end before sitting on the bench next to Edge.

Quietly, Stretch said, “i didn’t know you played.”

“I don’t,” Edge said. He smoothed a hand over the keys, not pressing down, simply touching them. “Not really. I can’t read music, but I know a song or two by rote. A friend of mine pushed me to memorize them.”

Welp, Stretch didn’t have to ask what friend, now did he. An old friend back in another world, and people weren’t replaceable even if they wore the same face. He didn’t say anything, didn’t need to; Stretch understood in a way only a few people could, and he settled a hand on Edge’s leg, squeezing his knee gently.

“that was really good,” Stretch offered, “you have a good memory, babe.”

“Some of my memories are better than others,” Edge said. The words were more contemplative than sorrowful, and he didn’t look at Stretch, only touched the back of his hand briefly with his gloved fingertips. “You tend to feature in the best ones, love.”

He reached for the keys again and started to play. The song was more confident this time, bright and cheery, with only the occasional missed note. A handful of other people drifted over, some pausing to watch and some moving on, going about their day with a song to carry them along.

Stretch only tapped his toes and listened as Edge played, more than willing to let him go on until he was ready to stop. If Edge wanted to take a brief dive into the past, then the antique mall was a place for it, where memories and times past mingled with the present.

Besides, a new memory to take home was better than any knickknack.

-fin

Note: The first song Edge was playing was 'Clair de Lune' by Debussy and the second was 'The Entertainer' by Scott Joplin. In case you were wondering. 😁

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #by any other name

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popculturebuffet · 3 years

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Sparkshortstravaganza! (Commissioned by WeirdKev27)

Well this was a needed kick in the pants. When I first heard of the Sparkshorts program I was excited. As a kid I loved PIxar, as an adult I love pixar and as an old man dealing with the loss of his partner floating away in my balloon house, i’ll still love pixar. So the idea of a program focused on giving new fresh talent the room to do whatever they wanted and make content that would be on Disney Plus, a platform BADLY bereft of original animation? It was a dream come true and the first one I saw Kitbull is easily a masterpiece and something that I can vividly recall every part of to this day, which for my terrible short term memory recalling EVERYTHING is a rare feat few works have achived. But given I have a REALLY bad habit of letting things I want to watch sit there if I don’t jump on them immediately.. I let it sit there and didn’t touch any of the shorts and mostly forgot about the program until now. Until Kev, my patron and the only person paying for reviews at the moment, though others are more than welcome wink wonk, just decided what the heck and to test out comissioning shorts picked these ones because why not. And given I had been dragging my feet and reading the descriptions found creative and suprisingly heavy premises... I was fully on board And better late than never because along with Soul this program has EASILY restored my faith in the company after Onward really disapointed. Granted they’ve done worse, while there are pixar films I haven’t seen I need to like Coco or Cars 3, I’ve vowed NEVER to watch Cars 2 unless I have to and that vow has served me well so far. The shorts here are as a whole beautifully animated, have a ton of wonderful concepts and even the two weaker ones are still gorgeous to look at and a decent watch regardless and both come from a very well meaning place with a very well meant message. So yeah i’m thankful for this comission and to show you why let’s go through every Sparkshorts so far and see why their so awesome.. after some background of course.

Sparkshorts, for the uniniated, is a program by pixar where animators are given six months and a limited budget to create a film based on personal experince. The program was designed to test out new ways of animating, directing and creating and to find a creative “spark” in it’s employees. Thus each film feels unique, has it’s own style.. and is utterly charming. I’ll be looking at them chronologically as while this wasn’t my watch order, I feel it’s a bit neater that way. I’ve already taken long enough to get to watching these, let’s open these films up and see what makes them tick shall we?

Purl: An Adorable Yarn Ball Vs Toxic Masculinity Purl.. was better the more I thought about it. The first short released, it DOES have a good message and killer animation. The film takes place at B.R.O., a dude broey brockerage firm that’s painfully relasitic both in how broey it is and in how it looks. That’s to contrast our heroine: Purl, an adorable ball of yarn who just wants to be accepted but is instead ignored by the rest of the company till she changes herself up, donning a suit like her co workers she badly wants to fit in with and adopting their wolf of wallstreet esque douchebaggery. She finally gets accepted.. but ends up shedding her new self to help another Yarn Ball starting up. Director Kristen Lester drew from personal experince, starting work at animation in a mostly male dominated workplace and thus having to adapt and only letting the femine side she’d repressed out when she moved to working at pixar, which had more female employees. The film DOES have a good message about toxic workplaces and toxic masulinty and learning the personal story did raise it a few notches as it made it clear to me that what SEEMED like an over exageration.. was probably just a light exageration given the kind of bro antics we’ve heard about at companies like Ubisoft. So while I didn’t like the film much at first honestly.. it’s over the top because it NEEDS to be because even though it’s 2021.. some idiots STILL don’t get it and kids are better off learning it now so it’ll hopefully stick when their entering the workforce. So we’ll get more people like perl willing to make a change and stick up for those like her and less dude bros. Still a decent and clever short with Perl’s bro form looking really neat and the animation on her in general is really fucking gorgeous. All in all not the best of these but still pretty good and while a bit thick on the message.. it kinda has to be.

Smash And Grab: A Jaunty Ride to Freedom

This was a really fun one. Directed by Brian Larson and inspried by his need for a break from routine this follows two robots, the titular smash and grab who are designed to well.. smash and grab coal-like energy things for a train and have for years and years. The two long to high five, but can’t because their hooked to tubes so they can’t escape. But one day Smash looks out the window and not only sees fellow robots living a better life.. but a way to power him and his buddy/love intrest? I mean bromance or romance, either way it works. Point is our heroes escape, and have to fight security. It’s just a really damn fun and creative movie. While robots wanting a better life isn’t new, the crisp art deco animation, breakneck pace, fun gags and heartwearming relationship between the two bots is just charming as hell. It’s just a fun ride the whole way through with a lot of heart and creativity with the two’s way they throw coal to one another used to take out the guards, and all together just some really good set pieces. Easily one of my faviorites here and that’s a high water mark to pass.

Kitbull: Tiny Orphan Kitty + Big Abused Doggo = Best Friends

As I said this is the only one of these I saw before today and as I said it’s stuck with me. I love dogs. I have one of my own named Yoshi whose just a sweet boy. So i’ve always loved ALL DOGS.. and was thus horrified years ago when I learned about the stigma Bulldogs get. Seen as “agressive’ and “Mean’ and victious.. when really a lot of them, including my grandpa’s own pitbull when I was little, are just loveable as any other dogs. And having also known a former fighting dog my friend owned, if a much smaller min pin rather than a pitbull, who by the time I met him had become the sweetest dog you’d ever meet.. yeah.. don’t mistreat a dog just because some assholes force it to fight to the death because their sick, horrible, ghastly human beings.. if they can even be CALLED human beings after doing that to these poor animals. My point is it’s nice to have a short about such a needed subject. Director Rosana Sullivan actually had the idea for the short for years and intended to do it as a side project, but when the program cropped up she moved it to pixar and the result is one of the most popular and easily one of the best of an already bright bunch, brought on by her love of animals and working in a shelter. It’s also one of Pixar’s first 2d animated projects and proves their just as good at that as cgi. It’s the touching story of a kitty whose alone in the world and initally mistrustful and hissy at a big dog she finds and is naturally scared of.. until she grows to bond with the dog, realizing much like a LOT of fucking people need to that pitbulls.. are just dogs and often victims of circumstance and the poor, sweet pooch who just wants his owner to love him.. is instead thrown into a fighting pit, nearly killed and forced to make a daring escape with their new forever friends help. It’s through this wonderful, heartrending friendship that the dog finds freedom and the cat.. finds them both a home, no longer running from people but instead making sure they both get a person. It’s often brutal at times, with the scene of the dog being forced to fight being one of the most striking: while we thankfully don’t see the action, we HEAR IT, as does the poor kitty, and we see the aftermath: a friendly harmless dog thrown out into the cold just because it dosen’t WANT to fight. It’s just really heartrending stuff that makes the happy ending all the better. It’s also gorgeiously animated which I mentioned but i’ll say it again; the animation here is GOREGOUS, unqiue and stunning. Go watch this if you haven’t.

Float: This is Why Krakoa Exists

This.. has easily been the hardest to review of the bunch. While ALL of these stories are very personal, very inclusive and very intresting, this one.. is a bit rougher than most of them and hits REALLY close to home. See this one was built out of director Bobby Rubio’s experinces raising his son who has autisim.

It’s about a dad who discovers his infant son can float... and thus gets stares of fear or judgment from eveyrone around him slowly getting broken down by this. So he makes a HORRIBLE judgment call and rather than just accept some people are assholes, weighs his son’s backpack down with stones despite him hating it then drags him away when he ends up floating off, before screaming at the poor kid WHY CAN’T YOU BE DIFFRENT.. He DOES instantly regret this and the ending is genuinely touching as the father finally accepts his son is different and throws him into the air while on a swing, letting his son soar as he always should’ve. It is a beautifully animated and well meant film and the filipino representation is truly great: Rubio originally was going to have the characters as white but his fellow animators convinced him to go for represntation and be true to himself and honestly in a time when disney itself has had to be fought to get queer representation most of the time, it’s nice that pixar at least is a part of it that throughly encourages representation and will gladly put diversity and representation over any bullshit “risk factors”. That being said.. while this was a decent short with a very well intentioned message and it clearly connected with a lot of people.. it wasn’t for me and I say this as someone who has autisim. As someone who has worn down people’s patince and been starred at by a freak for something I was way too young to properly deal with. I’ve been in this Kid’s shoes.

And that’s the problem: The metaphor dosen’t really work for me. While auitism CAN have some benifits and I wouldn’t be any other way i’d be lying if I said it was easy having trouble commuincating, constnatly misreading people, constnatly worrying if someone’s going to like you, and hyperfocusing on a problem instead of being able to set it and forget it for a bit to my own detriment. There’s other problems and not ALL of my issues come from anxiety disorder: I also have anxiety and depression. They just bleed badly INTO said autisim sometimes, as it’s hard to effectively combat anxiety sometimes when your mind won’t let you.

What i’m saying is... there aren’t any FAULTS in his powers. See i’m a fan of x-men, so I can only see this boy as a mutant, and yes I know they usually manfifest at puberty but there have been exceptions so don’t at me.. and one of them who has no real downsides other than the unfair stigma of being a mutant. He’s more like storm, who can control the elements and whose power only enhances her life nad lesss like say Rogue, who looks normal.. but can’t touch anyone without knocking them out at best or horribly abosrbing them into her head at worst. There’s no downside other than the fact people judge him and his dad is a dick about it. And the dad part is hard because I get what Rubio is going for: parents make mistakes, parents mess up and their only human even if they should embrace their kids anyway. That’s a good message and one I support.. I just think Rubio was way TOO hard on himself and thus made his stand in into an unlikeable asshole, one whose more concerned with how everyone ELSE thinks and does the horribly abusive action of basically tying his son’s wings down so he can’t fly. He mans well, it’s so his son dosen’t float off.. but instead of finding a way to help him and work with him on it.. he just stuffs rocks in his back and forces the kid to be miserable so other people can be happy. It just goes way too far in the other direction to work. As I said I think it’s the guy being too hard on himself, manifesting his worst moments with his kids and his biggest regrets and making himself into a very hard to like character because he has trouble forgviing himself for how he acted. So I want to say if you ever read this bobby while I wasn’t hte biggest fan of your film.. I do wholly support you and your son.. and the fact you made an entire FILM just to show your sturggle and show people there not alone was a beautiful act. You are not a bad person , we all make mistakes and we’re all just human. You are a good man Bobby Rubio. I may of not liked your metaphor... but your message is beautiful.

Wind: Immigration by Way of Rocket Science

Thankfully moving on.. this one is tied with Kitbull for my faviorite. It has a truly intriguing premise, a great metaphor, stunning animation, and is just really moving, gripping and fun to watch. This one was by Edwin Chang, and as is usualy by now, it was built on personal experince.. but not his. It was built on the fact his father was an immigrant who had to leave his mother, Chang’s grandmother, behind to a better life. She rejoined them eventually but it left an impact on his father and thus serves as the core of this story. And honestly knowing that only STRENGTHENS an already impresssive sci fi short. It’s the story of a boy, apparently named Ellis so i’ll use that, and his grandmother who live in a bizzare, hauntingly beautifuly stygian sinkhole that has floating rocks and debris. The two spend their day farming potatoes and grabbing whatever they can to hopefully make their way out. But it becomes clear to young Ellis after they find a plane his grandmother wants HIM to go alone and escape and is willing to sacrifice herself.. and ends up having to trick the boy into thinking sh’es going along in order to get him to do what he needs to surivive and thrive. It’s a truly gut wrenching story as even when she seems to have found a way for them both to leave.. it’s very clear she’s simply training him with all the welding tools and what not so he has skills to make it out there on his own in the unknown. So he can live without her.. but more importantly.. so he CAN LIVE. Away from the darkness, not having to scrape and to surivive and hopefully find something better out there. While the old parental figure sacrifciing thsmelves so the youngun can start hteir journey isn’t new.. it’s the unique, beautiful and haunting setting and the emotoin, conveyed only through the utterly beautiful animation that make this story feel fresh, along with it’s great metaphor. This short is just haunting, beauitful and really damn sad, and I only dont’ have all that much to say because it’s all in the visuals. The only thing I have left is like all of these really, watch it. But especailly this one.

Loop: Enough Said

This is part of the reason I didn’t like Float all that much. Loop is just.. way better at conveying the experinces of having auitism. While Renee is a more severe case than me I can relate to what kicks off the film: Renee, usually paired with an adult at the camp she at, is forcibley paired with a chatty boy named Marcus. While Marcus is eager to go home and has no idea how to interact with the two the two genuinely bond, with Marcus slowly getting into Renee’s world. The key scene for this and the one that clinches the film is Renee waving her hands over the reeeds in the water, throughly enjoying it with marcus not getting it.. till he tries himself. Director Erica Milsom, whose worked with autistic children and picked this medium entriely because i’ts perfect for a non verbal character and is one that can tackle heavy issues like this in a way to help people understan, really wanted to counter most depections of severe autisim, paticuarlly sensory issues. While we see the good in them instead of JUST her freaking out or being overwhelemed: how her sounds and the things she feels truly relax her and how she really DOES enjoy nature and is perfectly at home there. It’s just a beautiful way to show this disablility is not ALL bad, as many works tend to focus soley on the drawbacks. While I had my issues with Float part of it was it had too much good.. but Loop is superior at this simply because it shows both with unflinching honesty: The beauty of something that calms and relaxes your brain or a touch or sensation that just FEEELS really good, things that while again i’m not on the same level as Renee.. I can still fully relate to. But what puts it over float besides not having a messy metaphor is it DOES show the issues that come with it.. but does so WELL and with nuance. It shows how isolating autisim can be, especially for someone like Renee who can’t talk, how people are sometimes freaked out by you and don’t know how to interact with you and how adults can MEAN WELL, and the counsler setting them off was a good idea in the end... but can also be misguided and not fully know how to handle you without overwhelming you. It shows just how bad a panic attack can be, how you can just.. shut down and drive away. It was easily the sequence that hit the hartest and resonated the most as I’ve had those, and i’ve just shut down with no one able to reach me.. and it makes it all the more touching as Marcus eventually realizes how to handle things, and gives her space despite the setting son and the peril of being stranded.. because he realizes she needs it and offers to simply be there when she’s ready. It’s a touching, wonderful gesture, capped by him giving her a reed.. and the two heading home finally udnerstanding one another.This one is very close to wind in my heart and I think I found even more love for it writing this review and realizing just how much it hit me. And that ain’t bad.

Out: Be Proud of Who You Are.. with the help of a gay cosmic space cat

Speaking of hitting close to home and really resonating with me, we have Pixar’s first short with a gay main character, with his sexuality being the center of this. And as a bi person who had struggle accepting his sexuality let alone telling anyone, even when you know someoen will likely accept you.. this naturally hit hard. I took some time to realize I was bi, and when I did I was terrified of telling my mom, despite her being loving, supportive and just wonderful, same with my brother. Both fully accepted me as I figured and had no issue with it, esepcially sine my romantic history is nearly non existant anyways, but I related to our hero Greg’s fears of coming out to his parents despite them being utterly wonderful, well meaning people. It’s hard to come out, it’s hard to admit that about yourself, and it’s hard knowing you may not be accepted or things may change. I had an even harder time coming out to my dad, who I fully expected being a trump supporter and having said “if gay marriage is leagal I should be able to marry my cat”, to not support me and to loose him.. and was proud and suprised when nope, he was utterly supportive and happy for me.. if a bit awkward with the “be careful with sex” advice.. to someone whose had none and may never will due to being awkward as shit. But he meant well and the point is I really related to this, and it’s easily one of the best coming out stories of this kind, tied handily with Schitt’s Creek’s episode about Patrick coming out to his parents that dealt with the same theme. And naturally given the nature of these shorts it was a story close to Stephen Clay Hunter’s heart, as he group up a gay nerd in the 80′s a time when homophobia was even worse and representation was near non-existent. So when given the shot he wanted to make something for a young him, something they can look at and point to and tha’ts me. And the behind the scenes short for this one sold just how... big this felt for him. To draw two men in love and embrcing, to see guys mo capping that. To see someone LIKE him on screen. It shows just how important representation is and how dumb it is it took 20 goddamn years at pixar for them to get gay.

The short itsel is delightful as we open with a gay space cat and dog appearing in a rainbow. The Cat and Dog are watching Greg, a nice young man whose moving out of his small town with his boyfriend Manuel.. only to panic when his parents who he hasn’t come out to show up to help move and try and hide the one photo he has of them. And despite Manuel seeing it as a very easy thing to do to come out.. it’s not for Greg. He knows it’s hard and a scene of him practicing shows the poor guy breaking down at the thought of telling them despite getting every indicatio their nice people. It’s then the whole Space Cat thing comes in as the cat enchanted Greg’s dog’s collar, so when greg puts it on as a jest, it’s a body swap! So naturally we get tons of REALLY well animated shenanigans as Greg has to get his body back. Seriously the animation here is gorgeous with director Hunter choosing the painted on , impercet style to give it a storybook feel which fits the story perfectly.. seriously if Disney hasn’t made a story book of this do so.. and if they won’t someone on etsy do it because Etsy is apparently where the merch companies should be making happens.

The point is it’s fun, furious and leads to some great gags.. and then we get the emotional punch to the godnand as Greg bites his mom’s hand in order to prevent her finding a photo of him and his boyfriend. He instnatly regrets it, and breaking the photo in the process and goes to comfort her.. and we get easily the most emotinal, most beautiful part of it as Greg finds out his mom is hurt as she can clearly tell he’s keeping her at arms length and dosen’t want to loose him.. and she’s known all along he was gay.. just like the Schitts Creek example it’s clear she’s hurt a bit her son is scared to tell her but just wants him to be happy. So with a brilliant use of a squeaky toy greg switches back.. and comes out, with his dad warmly hugging miguel when he introduces himn and the space dog crying. Just a beautiful, charming, fun, and gorgeously animated short with some badly needed representation.

Also... one last note. This isn’t related to the short.. but Disney, who once again proves they can’t be progressive without stabbing themselves in the foot and no I will not stop giving out about this. This time’s especailly bad as while Out was heavily promoted.. the descripton DOSEN’T mention it having Pixar’s first gay lead and goes out of it’s way to hide Greg being gay despite the fact the short dosen’t and his being in the closet is the whole conflict of the short. And the not mnentiong the first gay lead thing is noticable because Loop DID rightly point out it was their first non verbal proganist. You can’t.. brag about being progressive about one thing and then try to hide your being progressive about another you idiots. Plus the “pleasing the bible belt” ship has sailed and left port. Ducktales is gay as hell with Penny being gay, even if Disney won’t let her just come out and say it, the crew still had her say it as much as they could, Violet’s dad’s being gay, Della being bi and Webby and Lena being as close to a couple you can get without disney screaming at them no. Andi Mack is fully avaliable on D+ as well.. well okay not fully because the dad turned out to be a pedophile, but still a series with a fully gay character is out there. And finally Owl House got TONS of press for having a bi progatanist and having her love intrest be a girl. Even if Dana Terrance had to FIGHT for that, and rightly so good on her, the point is you have queer characters already. The groups that hate you for that aren’t going to magically stop hating you because you hide the fact a short anyone can see from minute one is very , beautifully gay, I mean it starts with a very swishy space cat emerging from a rainbow atop a pink dog. COME ON. I only have a few words left for disney..

Okay whew, one more and we’re out of here.

Burrow: It’s Okay to Ask for Help and To Bang a Willing Salamander This was the first one I watched today. In hindsight had I properly researched the shorts and realized how heavy they were I probably would’ve saved this one for later to help balance out the deep feels of some of these. While Burrow is VERY VERY good, as all these shorts have been even Float, it’s subject matter is a lot lighter. I mean so far we’ve had stories about toxic masculinity, animal abuse, issues accepting your child is diffrent, sacrficing yourself so your loved one can have a better life, autisim and coming out of the closet. Even Smash and Grab which is light and breezy.. still has a disney death, and is still about a heroic rush to freedom from slavery whenyou think about it. This one.. is about an insecure bunny whose afraid to ask for help and ends up learning to get it while ending up plumiting through a bunch of comedic set pieces. It’s basically if Winnie the Pooh and Bugs Bunny had a baby comedy wise, it has the warm feeling of pooh art wise, a storybook quality tha’ts utterly adoring.. but director Madeline Sharafan specifccally wanted the animators to take after chuck jones, using lots of great expressions and reactions. It has a real classic theatrical screwball comedy vibe and given The Looney Tunes, Droopy, and Tom and Jerry mean the world to me and i’m glad nto reocnnect with 2/3 thanks to HBO Max.. I fucking loved it.

Burrow is still a personal story and is based on Sharifan’s experinces having trouble colaberating, wanting something to be fully baked before showing it off, something I agian relate to. She often hid from the others and refused to show her work until it was done while everyone else was happy to help. And as the previously used to slam disney hard with something they own Hickman Era of X-men has shown.. colaboration is just better and more freeing. By having friends and colleuge s to bounce off of you refine ideas, see how people react to them and grow a bit and that’s what the shorts about.

The plot is easily the simpliest of these: A young bunny wants to build her dream burrow but gets self concious when she runs into a friendly mole and rat living next door to where she wants to build and keeps digging to find both privacy and her own place.. and instead ends up digging into various shenangians and other burrows from frogs, to hedgehogs to most memorably some Salmanders taking a sauna.. and in the best and most ‘how the fuck did they get away with this bit of it”, one of the salamanders ends up .. gladly removing his town and being liike “You wanna do this? I mean I got an hour free” And i’m just saying while now wasn’t the time and the offer was a little awkward i’d go for it if I was her. I mean at least ask him out for coffee later. He seems nice enough if low on boundries. Then ride him until the morning light girl, ride it. She also finds the Demon Bear from New Mutants at one point.. so that’s where he retried to after danny kicked his ass again. Neat.

But eventually our heroione digs herself too deep and ends up hitting water before finding a

Who sees her crumpled plans and then does the stygian call of the badger to call all the other animals to help and after they escape the flood, the bunny finally realizes their good people and lets them see the plans. So we end on our heroine and her new friends and possible salamander lover helping her settle in as she finallyg ets the home she wanted, complete with disco. I mean every home should have a disco. If I didn’t have a ceeling fan i’d have a disco ball.. and I still want one just to set somewhere or hang away from the fan . Let me dream dammit. Overally a fun, hilarious, mad dash short with a good message and a good note to go out on.

Final Thoughts: Overall.. the Sparkshorts program is fucking spectacular, a great way to let some of Pixar’s staff get into the directors chair and really shine, and a way to tackle issues that they may not be able to get greenlit into a full film. Lushily animated, well produced, Pixar has announced MORE are coming and I cannot wait. Thank you kev for comissioning this, and thank you all for reading. If your new and liked this review, follow this blog as I talk disney all the time: when they come back i’ll be doing regular coverage of Amphibia, Ducktales and the Owl House as new episodes come out every week, and i’m currently doing a retropsective on the three cablleros kev also paid for, with the finale of it, an episode by episode look at the legend of the three cablleros, starting this week. I’m also covering LIfe and times of scrooge mcduck (though infrequently for a bit), and finishing up a look at darkwing duck’s just us justice ducks, started with looks at all the players involved and finshing next week with the episode itself. So if any of that sounds good to you, check out the archives, but goodbye, goodbye, goodbye for now.

#sparkshorts #pixar #disney #disney plus #disney+#purl #kitbull #out #wind #loop #burrow #LBGTQ+#lbgt #lbgtq #float #smash and grab #robots

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criticofallthings · 3 years

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Hi it’s 4:43 AM and I’m back with another t h i ng. AKA apparently I write Destiny 2 fan fics at at the pre ass crack of dawn now.

Presage mission + “another one for the trauma jar D2 meme” + a love for all things Drifter related bc this poor insufferable soft man is a total fucking gem and I will never, NEVER EVER forget about those tapes that he made for our guardian to find = this stuff below

no beta, so don’t come at me for grammar issues unless you’re gonna be nice about it.

WARMTH

Drifter saw the flashing notification before he heard it, the chime muted beneath the Gambit livestream. His ghost had marked it as a priority message, something important to get at. On screen a massive Taken ogre quivers into existence. Nice. Team A was doing great and unless Team B pulled off one Hell of an invade two times over he doubted they’d catch up in time to challenge Team A. His hand hovers over the message, but his eyes flick back up to the stream. Team A’s coordination has been top notch all match and now was no exception. Drifter watched as two of them casted their supers on the Primeval ogre and it’s envoys. Orbs of power litter the field. Moments later Team A’s titan flies from off-screen in one of the most electrifying thundercrashes he’s ever seen. Globs of exploded ogre cover his hidden cams, soon to dissolve into nothingness. Gambit sirens wail and Team B’s Taken are reigned back into their cages. “Alright alright alright, last match of the day and it was a good one for Team A. Team B? Not so much.” Drifter pauses speaking into the mic, a little drama, before continuing in his showman’s tone. “Ay, but that’s what tomorrow’s for! Come on back and queue right in. Drifter’s always hungry.” He ends with a chuckle that doesn’t rise to his eyes and as soon as the guardians transmat to their ships he closes everything down. A message alert pops up on his console again, marked red for priority and sent almost half an hour ago. Damn, he thinks to himself and runs a weary hand over his face. Drifter’s other hand is on the edge of the console, index finger tapping it anxiously. Fuck it, how bad can it be? Drifter opens the message, tension rising to his shoulders, but then he freezes and his shoulders drop. He traces a few words of the message, forlorn sadness easing the laugh lines and crinkles at his eyes away. A few taps and the console goes dark. Drifter turns away and stands for a moment at the door. He lets out a sigh before starting again, yanking off his gloves before trudging towards his cargo container room.

There’s a lantern hung on the hook outside of his cargo container, the interior dark. Across the snow that never seemed to leave the Derelict, he sees whispered hints of someone carefully walking or rather, half-gliding over it. Through the gloom he spies a small pile of stuff he doesn’t remember making and an obvious lump in his bed. As he draws closer Drifter sees that the pile is actually carefully stacked warlock armor and the sleeping lump in his bed, is The Guardian. Yet again. Drifter’s lost count how many times it has been since he first offered the Guardian refuge aboard the Derelict. The first time they took him up on his offer he found them later, sleeping in a corridor standing against a bulkhead. He let them be since it was an out of the way spot. Eventually he showed them his bed, the Derelict’s only functional bed and told them to make use of it. Until now they hadn’t and he would still find them sleeping in various places aboard his ship. Sometimes with or without some pieces of armor, but also never like this. In plain clothes, more or less, sleeping bag haphazardly pulled over them. So vulnerable. And so tortured.

In sleep, Drifter found that the Guardian was an almost entirely open book. Nightmares haunted them more often than not. Sometimes so strongly that the Guardian would thrash about while asleep, murmuring feverdly, occasionally coherently about what they relived in their dreams. Tonight seemed to be one of the Guardian’s more silent nightmares. No thrashing, no murmuring, but the tight grimace of their lips and furrowing of their brow betrayed the Guardian's silence, showed their distress. Drifter steps to the cot, gently pulling the sleeping bag over to cover them better. Task done, he sits at their side and tentatively brushes a few stray strands of hair from their face. As he does so, the Guardian visibly relaxes, some tension dispelled from their face. It pulls at him more than he thought, making his chest tighten uncomfortably.

“Don’t take your armor off around me, kid...I’m not someone you oughta get comfortable around.” Drifter can’t help but let the whispered words fall from his lips at the sight before him. It was all too tragic. Too fucked up. So much pinned upon one guardian. One person. His hand moves before he realizes it and softly he cups their face, thumb tracing their jawline. Beneath his hand he can feel the muscles twitch and then slowly relax from the strained clenching of their jaw. Another measure of stress slips from their sleeping face. Drifter lets out a breath he was unconsciously holding. For a moment he thought the Guardian was going to wake up. Another trace over their jawline and Drifter takes his hand from their face. Quietly he murmurs, “why are you here…” as the tips of his fingertips trail over their cheek. He pauses, feeling impulsive and...something else...when he glances at their lips. Drifter lets his fingers ghost over their skin, tenderly coming to a rest below the Guardian’s cupid’s bow. He lightly traces the shape of their lips, feeling it out. Soft and a bit dry. There’s a thin crease of dried blood where they must’ve split their lip during combat. Or maybe bit it open themself on a previous restless night. He’s seen it happen before. Once even their tongue.

Drifter closes his eyes at that memory, a faint tremble visible only in his hands. He just about had a heart attack when he saw the Guardian slouched over with blood streaming from their mouth, sitting just outside the Gambit transmat room. He had shaken them awake, and his shock only grew when he saw them open bleary eyes and wipe the blood off of their chin as if it was normal and summon Ghost. The usually talkative bot didn’t say anything, but the way it healed them instantly and then bumped their forehead before leaving —he knew. Drifter knew that this must have happened several times before. “Mind if I...sleep s’more...here?” Their sleep-heavy voice caught his attention again and Drifter lifted his hands from their shoulders. “Nah, kid.” Drifter stood up and half turned, waiting for them to do the same. “C’mon, hurry up! I ain’t so mean to not lend you a spot to sleep.” The Guardian rose slowly to their feet, eyes unfocused and mind miles away from here. Something in him stabs at the sight and Drifter can’t face them looking so...worn. He turns away. Shoving hands deep into his pockets he starts walking, pausing only once to confirm the Guardian was shuffling along behind him. He shows them how to get to the sole cot on the Derelict.

A hand on his wrist snaps Drifter out of the memory. He looks down to see the Guardian awake, eyes somewhat clear. There’s confusion in their expression and he feels their lips move beneath his fingertips. Ah. Hastily, he pulls his hand away, clearing his throat. “ ‘m, sorry...about that.” Heat flushes his face as he turns to avoid eye contact. It’s silent for a while. Drifter stares at the rivets holding a seam of the cargo container together when he hears the crinkle of the sleeping bag being moved. He does his best to look discreetly out of the corner of his eye, but is caught. Drifter holds the Guardian’s gaze until they break off to shift towards the wall. Lifting the sleeping bag they look at him directly and motion for him to lie down. “It’s too cold.”

Drifter freezes. His mind hitting a brick wall too thick to just power through. He’s stunned into a very rare silence. Uncertainty and confusion write themselves out upon his face. Seeing him be so still, the Guardian drops the sleeping bag to place a hand on his knee. “You asked...why I come here.” They speak slowly, as if unsure about what they’re saying and are figuring it out as they say it. “You...you don’t use me like everyone else.” They look away from him, cheeks faintly pink. “Zavala, Ikora, the Vanguard...they mean well, but...they don’t get to treat everyone as people. They need a killer? I kill. Answers? I seek. Someone who might survive the impossible? I survive. Unconditionally. Righteous things and unspeakable things... Because I am a guardian. I don’t have a name. Many ghosts just go by Ghost...I’m the only guardian without a name. There was just...never time for one, and…always so much to do. Lives to save. Futures to fight for…” They trail off, eyes slightly unfocused, perhaps lost in nightmares they haven’t escaped yet. “You bring Gambit, but it’s never a real pressure to join.” Their hand slips from his knee, becoming a loose fist on the cot.

The coiling thing in Drifter’s chest squeezes painfully. He shifts, almost stands, but then changes his mind. To Hell with it all. Shucking off his pauldrons, he shrugs out of his duster and kicks off his boots. Awkwardly, Drifter lays down on the cot —it’s made only for one after all— but gives up on trying to leave space between him and the Guardian. Laying on his side, he shoves an arm under the pillow and motions for the Guardian to come closer. They move over slowly, a little unsure now. Drifter grabs the sleeping bag and covers them both with it. He’s left that arm out, unsure on how much contact would be wanted. When he feels the Guardian shivering, Drifter almost stops himself from draping that arm over them. But he doesn’t stop himself. Instead he gently pulls them close to him until their back presses against his chest. They feel oddly cold despite being recently asleep. Drifter summons a measure of solar light over his skin, just enough to let soothing heat roll off. He feels the Guardian relax, shoulders dropping the tension that had remained.

Minutes pass and just as Drifter thinks they’ve fallen asleep, the Guardian quietly speaks. “It was so cold there...and twisted…” His arm around them tightens protectively for a moment. “Where did you go? Recent mission?” The Guardian nods slowly, voice a little louder, but twice as worn out as before. “Presage...the Glykon.” Drifter hums a short acknowledgement, turning over their words in his head. He was aware of the Vanguard operation, already heard snippets of Osiris live on comms reporting tidbits back to the Vanguard. The Cabal ship was a house of horrors. Thinking on what he knew of it, Drifter came to a sudden, sinking thought. “Did you…?” He isn’t able to finish his question, half knowing what the answer would likely be. Again, the Guardian slowly nods. The tightness in his chest returned with a sting before the Guardian spoke their confirmation, a small tremor rolling through them at the memory. “...alone.” Drifter holds them close, knowing no words could ease the turmoil in the Guardian’s mind. He holds them and keeps his Light near and solar-filled to stave off the Derelict’s iciness. Eventually the Guardian’s breathing levels out and Drifter can tell they’re sleeping. Several hours later he drifts off to sleep as well. When he wakes in the early morning, Drifter opens his eyes to see the Guardian’s face next to his, still asleep. It’s the first time he’s seen them look so at peace.

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mycelier · 3 years

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Xena Coffee Shop A/U Idea

So Gabrielle works in coffee shop, maybe Starbucks, but more likely a smaller more niche store that is soft and quiet with big squishy couches where all the regulars know and love her. She’s exhausted from managing the place without being an official manager (or maybe she is idk) but she smiles often and the place remains busy despite a Starbucks having moved in just around the block because (although she would absolutely deny this) the patrons look forward to her positivity and advice. But people know not to mess with her or try to cause trouble for her or any of her fellow employees because although she is sweet she’ll kick you out if you even THINK about being rude to any of the employees.

Xena founded a karate/jujitsu/something hybrid gym SOMETHING where her primary focus is helping people (in particular, women or marginalized people who feel weak or unsafe or feel incapable of protecting themselves), but she doesn’t turn away people if they come to her for the right reasons. She hosts daily fighting lessons using different techniques (jujitsu, weapons, hand to hand, p much everything) and had reached an almost legendary status to those who have come to her in their time of need. It is well known in many circles that Xena used to the be the head of a....gang? Crime syndicate? Mob? I’m not sure, but something HUGE and something that made her a lot of money and a LOT of enemies before she left the life for good. I kind of like the idea of her being some kind of crime boss for some huge underground syndicate because that gives some room for some kidnappings and crazy stuff but also that’s hot as hell.

Joxer DEFINITELY becomes an employee by simple virtue of being in the store so much and bugging her so much that he may as well be being paid for it (but also he is...surprisingly good at creating new roasts and making cool new drinks so why not). He thinks he’s suave (like Ares) but deep down knows he’s not.

Ares is the obnoxious rude ass businessman who treads the line of being banned from the store but is accepted only because he buys ENORMOUS amounts of their coffee for his meetings or whatever. He’s buff as hell and has reflexes that put a cat to shame. I’m not sure if he’s officially into martial arts but he knows a lot of things from a lot of places. OH MAYBE HE IS LIKE BIG BOSS OF CRIME SYNDICATE THAT HAD BEEN PARTNERED WITH XENA’S IDK.

Ephiny is a student of Xena’s; she’s amazing but struggles with trusting partners after the loss of her husband (Phantes). Her son is just getting to the point of toddling and she already has him INVOLVED with Xena as much as is physically possible. She also works with Gabrielle in the coffee shop and is the eventual link that brings Gab and Xena together.

Callisto was Xena’s top student and top pain in the ass until the loss of her family. She now trains at a “rival” dojo. She’s constantly proclaiming herself better than Xena and trying to take Xena down a notch or two despite the fact that that’s not how any of this works. She lost her mom and sister in a fire and blames Xena (she was 8 or 9 and a student at Xena’s dojo; Xena took her home one evening with nobody came to pick her up after practice. she tried to run into the burning building but it was too far gone. she claims Xena kept her from saving her family but deep down thinks that if she hadn’t been at practice she might have been able to save them). She will probably have some kind of redemption arc because I feel bad for her even though she is irredeemable (from what I’ve seen so far in the show).

Perdicus worked at the coffee shop but left to figure out how he could win Gabby’s heart (they grew up together and he’s loved her since he knew what love was but she’s always been...unsure). He’s gonna be in the thing as like...some kind of friend at the very least because Callisto did him dirty in the show and I liked him.

Iolus and Hercules MAY run the “rival” gym. “Rival” continues to be in quotes because although everyone in the town sees them (Xena and Herc) as rivals, they have nothing but respect for one another. Herc is in love with Xena (she thought she loved him too..once.) and Iolus THINKS he’s in love with Xena and then thinks he loves Gabby but realizes he loves Hercules; this may be a uniting factor for Xena and Gabby as they work to try and help Iolus overcome his insecurities and confess his feelings to Hercules (who will be startled but is bi as hell and will be really excited because he thought Iolus was SUPER into Gabby/straight as could be).

Autolycus is an art thief a la Cary Grant in Psych. He has a lot of money but lives relatively modestly and donate a fair amount to charities and to Gabby’s coffee shop, all under a pseudonym of course because it could never get out that he secretly wants to be Robin Hood more than anything in the world. Perhaps at some point the coffee shop has gone broke (maybe Krykus runs the shop and he’s an asshole who doesn’t care and ends up stealing a ton of money and running off into the night?????) and Autolycus (and Xena) band together to purchase the shop and put it to Gabby’s name (which upsets Gabby at first until she realizes that they were helped by the ENTIRE STAFF and a lot of the loyal customers because they love her and they love the changes she’s made to the shop).

I’m thinking...maybe one night, late, after Gabby had to stay to do inventory and order stock, she’s mugged. They have a gun and although she’s willing to give them what’s in her wallet, she fights back when they threaten to physically assault her and she ends up punched a few times. Now, depending on how dark I want this to be...she’s either beat up BAD and ends up joining the gym after Ephiny finds her and takes her to the hospital and demands she take better care of herself....but more likely (because it’s HOTTER), Gabby is saved by Xena, who had also been at her gym late doing an inventory and stock of the small pre-packaged bars and shakes she sells or something, important because maybe Gabby will start providing some kind of healthy snack as a thank you to Xena??? Anyway, Xena busts in after Gabby’s beat up and saves the damn day. Now!!! Either Xena falls in love INSTANTLY but keeps it way down because that’s who she is, or she simply thinks Gabby is cute (’m not decided) and is delighted at first when she sees Gabby show up to her gym. Gabby is enraged and frustrated that she wasn’t able to protect herself and Xena shows her how to redirect and channel her anger away from doing harm and into protecting herself.

This will EVENTUALLY and ultimately be a Xena x Gabby fic but I think it’s gonna take a while for Gabby to get there. When she realizes she loves Xena it will hit her like a sack of bricks and she won’t be able to breathe for a few moments as she takes in the woman who has become her best friend in the entire world and realizes that she absolutely loves her.

And that’s more writing or thinking about writing than I’ve done in eons but I wanted to get it down somewhere.

#xena fic idea #xena warrior princess #xena x gabrielle FOREVER #writing ideas for sometime when I actually think I can write #if anyone is even vaguely interested lemme know!#sometimes encouragement goes a long way with me

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stressedkitkatttt · 4 years

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Just A Little Jealous

A little jealously never hurt...

Quick Note: school has started back up for me, and some freshman are already trying to burn down the place, so I will be working on stories during the week and try to post them on the weekends. We're gonna see how long that lasts because we all know how horrible I am at posting things on time... For those who have requested stories, I am sorry I take so damn long to post them, but I promise that they will get posted!

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: a jealous Christopher Velez, size kink, teasing, angry sex

Anon: I love your blog 😍😍😍 Your Zabdiel stories are *chefs kiss*. I was hoping if you had time could you do a Christopher Velez imagine with a size kink and jealous sex?

Enjoy some jealous Chris with a size kink <3

~~~~~~~

You were at a club downtown with the guys. They wanted a good time and it had been a while since you and Chris went out, seeing as he was still recording music. You put on a nice dress, that hugged your curves but wasn't too tight; you wanted to dance after all, and paired it with some nice, but comfortable, heels coupled with a nice necklace Chris had bought you a few months back. You make sure to check yourself, fixing up some small details before you walk out to the living room, and see Chris sitting on the couch, on his phone as he waited for you.

He noticed you in the reflection of his phone screen as you came up behind him and he turned, eyes going wide. He smiles and stands up, pulling you close and burying his face in your hair. "You look very beautiful," he mumbles. You hum and wrap your hands around him. He pulls away, "Let's go. I want to show you off tonight." You loop your arm around him as he leads you down to the street and hails a taxi.

The rest of the guys were already at the club when you arrived. You guys head inside and Chris takes you to the VIP section and you head to the bar as Chris finds his buddies. You order your drink and take a look around. Once you finish it, you head over to Chris, who was talking to Zabdiel, and he pulls you close. "I want to dance baby," you lean up and run a hand through his hair. He nods as you drag him to the dance floor. You find a spot and turn to face Chris, who smiles.

The song ends and changes into one with more of a provocative beat. You smirk and grind down on Chris, who is eager to grab your waist and pull you closer to him, leaning down to nip along your neck and tug your earlobe, telling you how sexy you looked. When the song ends, you're both sweating both from grinding together and the heat generated from the other people on the dance floor.

"I'm gonna go get another drink real quick, wait here." You tell him over the bass of the new song. He nods and you weave through the other people to get to the bar, ordering water. As you finish and turn to walk back out on the floor when the sea of people moves just enough to give you a clear sight of Chris standing with Zabdiel again, chatting away. You huff and walk into the crowd, dancing along to the beat. Maybe if Chris sees you dancing alone, he'll come and get you.

You dance alone for a couple of songs when you realize that Chris isn't gonna come and dance. You contemplate going over to him but you hold back. You decide to show him what he's missing. You continue to dance alone and when there's a break in the music, you feel a tap on your shoulder, which makes you turn around, expecting to see Chris. Who you saw was definitely not Chris. He was decently handsome, obviously not as handsome as Chris. He offers you his hand and asks to dance.

You know you should decline but he seemed very polite and a little voice was telling you this was a way to get back at Chris. He did say he wanted to show you off and yet he was talking to Zabdiel. If this didn't get his attention, you didn't know what would. You accept his offer just as the song starts to play. It had a nice beat, not too fast and not too slow, a good song for people to enjoy dancing to. You had to give it to this man, he was a good dancer, matching your movements.

When the song changes to something you can get down too, you glance over to check on Chris. Surprise, surprise he's still in deep conversation with Zabdiel. What the hell could they be talking about that is so important? Chris had told you the past few days he wanted a break and let loose. Well, you decide to kick it up a notch with this stranger and you begin to grind down on him, just as you did with your boyfriend. He seems to notice how you eyed Chris and places his hands on your hips, not moving them too far. He seems to know he's in a game of sorts and he doesn't want to provoke anything further.

As you continue to grind, the feeling of someone watching you makes smirk. You don't have to look to know that you've got Chris' attention. You can also feel the man tense. He suddenly loosens his grip and you watch him back away, giving you a wink before disappearing into the crowd. You don't have time to react as someone grabs your wrists hard. "We're going home. Now." His tone is scarily calm. He tugs on your wrist as he pushes through the crowd and out the door. You take a deep breath as the cool night air hits your skin.

Chris hails a taxi and opens the door for you. You hop in and Chris gives the driver the address. As soon as the back door closed, the air was suffocating. The ride back was silent but his tight grip on your thigh was letting you know that you're really in for it when you get back to the apartment. The ride is about ten minutes and soon, too soon, you're outside the apartment complex. You get out as Chris pays and drags you inside.

You reach the door first and wait for Chris, who opens the door and lets you walk in first. You head straight to the kitchen where you get a glass of water. Chris enters the apartment and slams the door, leaning against it as he locks it, staring intently at you. You make eye contact and play innocent.

"What?" You say, taking a sip from the glass.

He takes a breath in, "You know what, nena."

You bat your lashes and tilt your head, "Mm, no, I don't. Care to enlighten me?" You barely have time to react as Chris pushes off the door and now stands centimeters from you. You stumble back and he keeps pushing you until your back hits the wall. He leans down and places his hands on either side of your head, placing the glass of water on the counter.

"Don't you dare play innocent with me, chica. You know exactly what you did tonight." You know Chris would never lay a hand on you, but he was damn good at intimidating you with just his body. "Why were you grinding on that man like that? Were you planning on fucking him if I hadn't come and stopped you?"

You snort. "Of course not, papi." The tone of your voice changes to a sultry one as you bring your hands up to play with his shirt. Chris, however, was not in the mood. He takes your wandering hands and pins them above your head.

"But I was alone and you had said you were going to show me off tonight. The only thing you showed anyone tonight was that your conversation with Zabdiel was more important. I was just simply... showing you what you were missing." You pout your lower lip.

"Oh no, you don't get to touch me after what you pulled tonight. Do you think he could've fucked you better? Make you cum as hard as I can?" He's right in your face now, plump lips brushing your own. You can feel how hard he is, pressing against your lower abdomen. He suddenly brings a knee between your legs, resting close to your throbbing core.

"N-no," you reply, captivated by the new look of jealous rage in his eyes.

"Then why were you grinding on him like that?" You don't reply. "Well, it seems I haven't made it clear enough about who you belong to if you're going off and finding other people. So I guess papi is going to have to remind his little girl who she belongs to." You yelp in surprise as Chris picks you up and takes you to the bedroom, his words barely registering in your head. You feel a sudden rush of wetness down in your core at his words.

You land on your bed and Chris pins you down. You haven't seen him this worked up in a long time. You decide to push your luck even more. You suddenly bring your hands up to his chest and push back. He stumbles back and looks at you a little shocked. "You don't get to touch me tonight. You said you were gonna show me off and you didn't." You see his eyes become black and he stalks back over to you, making your heart flutter.

"I'm in charge tonight. You don't tell me what to do nena." His hand wraps around your throat, squeezing enough to make you suck in a quick breath. "I'll take what I want." He pushes you back onto the bed and wastes no time in taking off your shirt and pants, hearing the fabric protest against his rough hands, leaving you in one of Chris' favorite lingerie sets.

He groans at the sight of you and leans over your body, beginning to mark up your neck with harsh sucks and nipping teeth. His hands wander up and quickly massage your chest over the lace, tweaking your nipple and making you arch your back. He pulls his lips away from a dark hickey he was working on and brings his lips to your ear. "Are you going to apologize?"

His words wash over you and you bring a hand up to his hair, grabbing it and tugging, making him groan. "I'm not apologizing," you lean up and bring your lips to his throat and leave a mark on him. "Because you don't deserve it." He moans and places a hand in your hair, pulling your lips away from his throat and crashing them together. Your lips molded quickly and the kiss was bruising.

He suddenly pulls back and pushes forward, making your back collide with the bed. He begins leaving marks all down your body to your heat. His hot breath fans over the lace, making you shiver in anticipation. He pulls the lace to the side and his tongue collides with your nub and you moan his name, hand going straight for his hair and tugging. He groans and flattens his tongue, adding two fingers.

With the stimulation of his fingers and his tongue, he's got you like putty in his hands. He knows you're close when your walls tighten against his fingers. He builds the fire in your belly, bringing you closer and closer until he pulls away at the last second. You're ready to chew him out for not letting you cum when his hand finds your throat again.

"Like I said, you don't have a say in what I do to you tonight." His dark eyes are looking into yours and you want to protest against him. Yet, the feeling of his fingers and tongue is an addicting drug and you wanted to feel them again. "Are you going to apologize now or am I going to have to keep punishing you?"

You couldn't hold yourself back.

"Like I said, I'm not apologizing because you don't deserve it." You fire back. He narrows his eyes and he has half a mind to tie you up, but the closet seemed so far away and he knew how desperate you were to cum. It wouldn't take much more until you broke. He doesn't reply to your snappy comment but he goes back to his original position and starts rubbing you at a slow pace.

You squirm against his teasing fingers, but he places his other arm on your hip, trying to keep you still. He brings you to the edge once again and you clench your jaw, not in the mood to give in to him. He continues to bring you to the edge once more and you want to slap him. He moves up so you're face to face, his hips flush with yours and you can feel the outline of his hard cock through his pants. He felt so much thicker tonight then he ever has previously. Maybe it was because you were so eager to get him inside you.

"I know how much you want my cock, nena. Beg for it." He says, just barely moving his hips against yours. You glare defiantly at him and he smirks, grinding a little harder. Being edged three times made your clit a little sensitive, and the feeling of fabric against it made your legs twitch. You decide that he can't be the only one torturing you. Reaching between your bodies, you find the tops of his pants and slide your hand over the material, feeling a solid outline of his cock. Nope, he was definitely thicker than usual.

You give a firm squeeze and he bucks his hips. He's just as eager as you are, though you both are too stubborn to give in first. You find his tip through the material and gently rub a finger against it, making him groan. You're a little surprised that he hasn't tried to stop you. You tease him just as he did to you, though you only get to edge him once before he finally gives up.

"Fuck it!" He growls and stands up to take off his clothes. You quickly remove the lace you wore and Chris was on you seconds later. He positions himself against your entrance and your eyes roll back as he pushes in. He took his time, and the deeper he pushed himself in, you couldn't help but moan his name loudly as he reached places you didn't know he could reach. When he bottomed out, you had never felt so full with him. You've fucked plenty of times but something about tonight was different. Chris was going to ruin you and you were going to gladly let him do so.

"Look how well you take my cock, princesa." He boasts. "I bet his dick isn't as big as mine. I bet he can't make you moan like I can. Nobody knows your body better than me." It was the truth. Nobody could ever come close to how Chris makes you feel. You reach for his hair but he repositions himself so he can pin both your arms above your head. "You don't get to touch me."

You're about to bite back when he begins to move his hips, which quickly gives you an amazing sensation that leaves you speechless. He finds a semi-quick rhythm that gives you both just enough satisfaction but not bringing you to the edge quickly. His lips find your neck and begin a new hickey. You begin to squirm against his body, moving your hips up against his and he lets you. You can feel his cock reaching places, even at this slow pace, sending you over the moon in burning pleasure.

When he pulls his lips away, there is a dark mark forming. This pace is nice and all, but you're impatient, and still feeling the anger from earlier, not to mention you can't leave your mark on him, you demand that he goes faster. When Chris makes eye contact with you, you know you've pushed a nerve. In retaliation, he goes even slower. You can curse at him as much as you want, kick and complain, but he's in charge tonight and you know it.

This slow pace is a double-edged sword, not only affecting you but him as well. He didn't realize how much he needed his release then when he went slow. He tried not to show how much he wanted to pound you into next month but he couldn't hide everything from you. You could already tell he was struggling to not let the beast take over. This pace was your final breaking point. Taking in a breath, you apologize.

"Chris, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have grinded on that man tonight." He looks up at you, breathing hard, before he picks up his pace instantly, eager to bring you and him to the edge. This pace quickly builds up the fire and your walls are squeezing around him and he moans your name, eyes closing and head dropping to your chest.

"I'm sorry too." His voice was muffled by your chest and you almost didn't hear him. You don't respond, so he picks up his head and looks at you, pupils wide as he draws near. "I should have made good on my promise to show you off," his voice stutters a little. You both work off the last of your anger in the final moments. He lets go of your hands and you drag your nails down his back, leaving red marks, and he finds a spot under your jaw to make one final mark on you.

His hips begin to stutter before he cums, his hips lazily thrusting as you cum moments after him. Both of you stop and Chris rolls off of you, panting. When you both calm down, he helps you clean up and comes up behind you, making you roll onto your side and he wraps an arm around you. "I'm sorry baby," he apologizes again. You turn your head, catching him in your peripheral.

"What were you and Zabdiel talking about anyway?" He doesn't respond and you turn and face him, giving him the look.

"Well, I can't tell you..."

"Why not?" You suddenly press a hand to his shoulder and roll him onto his back, surprising him and even yourself as you climb on top of him. "Do I have to force it from you?"

"It's a surprise nena," he says, grabbing your hips. "Something special I planned for our anniversary next week..." You look down at him, shocked.

"Really?" He nods. You didn't plan on forcing anything out of him, it was an empty threat, but something about him always got you going. "Think you can go for another round?" He grins wide and nods as his hands travel up your body and find your chest.

"Good, 'cause I can go all night long..."

~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @cracraforfandoms @kmsmedine @kikixfandoms @richardscurls

#cnco #cnco chris #cnco chris smut #christopher velez #christopher velez smut #cnco richard #richard camacho #cnco zabdiel #zabdiel de jesus #cnco joel #joel pimentel #cnco erick #erick colon

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alkhale · 4 years

Note

so... that new his dark materials on HBO got me feeling some things and thinking... Memos HDM AU?

Memos His Dark Materials AU Ko-Fi Request

(for context for the excerpt down below this, when someone’s daemon makes contact with another person’s daemon, it’s considered very personal and intimate. This is normal between family members and very close friends or loved ones, say, Luffy’s daemon would probably touch all his nakama’s left and right just fine, but for certain others, this may come as a bit of an alarming little sensation for them since people feel what their daemons feel and the same vice versa as extension of their souls)

- Hoku’s daemon is a white panther named Hau.

The two of them don’t get along very well and tend to get on each other’s nerves due to personal reasons. They’re capable of being a fairly good distance apart even though this isn’t normal and considered painful for most people. They sort of trained themselves to be able to be apart because they felt following their independent values was most important. It’s a bit of a messy situation but they’re the first ones either of them would turn to no matter what. He has the same marking she has painted around the curve of his left eye because it’s tradition for Pokians to paint it onto their daemons when they come of age. All daemons from Artopoki are also always colored white just like their hair.

His name means “happiness” in Hawaiian.

- Mahina’s daemon is a white horse while Manu’s is a small white wild cat. Mihawk’s is a massive, massive ink black raven named Sable. She and Mahina’s daemon got along really well.

- Shank’s daemon is a reddish tinted lionness who goes by Reina. Hoku and Hau are a bit smitten by her but Hau kind of hates Shanks, maybe not hate but he tends to be on the more skeptical end of him versus Hoku being a little doe-eyed for the man. Hau loved Mihawk though. Mihawk was the first person to ever touch him outside of Hoku’s parents (human to daemon contact is a super big deal when it’s not family or intimate loved ones, daemon to daemon is a little more tolerable but raises some brows)

- Luffy’s daemon settles as a springy lionness name Soleil who he calls Sol. She’s very energetic and can’t really read a room but she makes up for it with energy. She and Luffy are two peas in a pod.

- Nami’s daemon is an orange fox named Riki, the greatest thieving duo across the East Blue.

- Zoro’s is a massive bengal tiger named Masumi and she’s got a much more approachable personality than her counterpart but tends to be just as lazy and ferocious.

- Usopp’s is a chameleon by the name of Emmo. She’s a bit of a coward too but she’s funny.

- Sanji’s is a beautiful, rather stunning lady jackrabbit by the name of Celine who loves beautiful people and kicking. She seems a little wiser than Sanji.

- Brook’s is the skeleton of a songbird named Aretha. They’re the strangest case on the Grand Line because of his devil fruit. She sings beautifully for a pile of bones though.

- Franky’s is a female beaver named Aspen, they’re pretty much carbon copies of each other.

- Robin’s is a black owl named Yuval. He’s on the quieter side and tends to creep people out on first glance but he’s a very gentlemanly owl.

- Ace’s ends up settling as a red and black lynx by the name of Iskra. Sabo’s is a peregrine falcon named Brisa.

- Vivi’s is a fennec fox named Seti.

- I couldn’t decide of Kid’s should be one hell of a murderous honey badger with attitude named Naga or a crocodile or a bear. Any of those three felt pretty right but I lean more toward the honey badger HAHAHA.

- Law’s daemon is a snow leopard named Estrella. These two are an especially dangerous duo and Estrella tends to be a bit more on the mysterious side at first.

- - - - - - -

“Your blood,” Shank said, cupping her cheek. “Is worth treasures more than his.”

Hau bit at Shanks’ cloak, snarling as a white husky in protest, trying to pull him away. Reina watched him in utter amusement.

Steam exploded from Hoku’s ears, her entire face flushing red.

“Oops, hey, someone get Makino! I’m worried dove’s got a fever!”

- - - - - - -

“It’s nothing but a childish crush,” Hau said pointedly to her, perfectly aware of the fluttery, gross feelings inside Hoku spilling over to him. He walked after her, lashing his tail angrily while Hoku stared up at the sky in a daze. Shanks had just given them a living, ripe kiionohi tree. “He just thinks we’re cute kids. He likes teasing us. This is how he took Luffy!”

Hau worked over-time to remain as indifferent toward Shanks as Hoku originally wanted to be. Hoku had just given up and rolled over to the fact that Shanks was just… so hard to dislike. Was there even a reason to dislike him? Sure, she still got jealous that Luffy was so damn fond of him, but when Luffy was always pulling her around despite that, promising she was his first before anyone else—

“Are you listening to me?” Hau hissed at her, biting her ankle in protest. Hoku looked down at him. “I don’t like him! He’s just another schmuck! Nothing’s gonna happen anyway! Dream on! We’re just kids to him, got it?”

“I know that,” Hoku snapped, cheeks flushing. “I-It’s just adoration. Childish adoration. What do you think I’m gonna do, ask him to marry me?”

“No,” Hau muttered, “but don’t get any ideas.”

“I’m not,” Hoku snapped back at him, lightly nudging his paws. Hau swiped at her. “He’s just… he’s just charming, is all. And you’re one to talk, you know. You look at anyone that’s willing to scratch your ears like they’re god!”

“I don’t let people scratch me behind the ears!” Hau protested. “No one’s allowed to touch me!”

“Yeah,” Hoku snorted. “Except Luffy, right? I feel what you feel too, dumbass. Think about how it feels for me to get scratched behind the ears too, okay?”

Hau grumpily settled down onto his haunches, stubbornly looking over to the side, “But it’s Luffy.”

Hoku could understand that, but it didn’t make the sensation any more normal. Actually, I might be starting to get used to that. Luffy’s so damn touchy it’ll kill me. She didn’t even flinch anymore when Hau and Soleil were pressed tight together, rolling around or tumbling about each other or cuddled up in a pile. Luffy’s warm fingers patting Hau’s head, hefting him up into his arms—that was still something she was getting used to.

Or Hoku, cupping Soleil’s head in her hands, pressing a kiss to the top of the daemon’s head, committing utter taboo. Hoku, letting Soleil cozy up to the crook of her neck, shove her face into Hoku’s hand, weave between her fingers while Luffy laughed beside them—

The four of them, touching each other’s daemons, each other’s partners, each other’s souls—

But I am getting used to it. Hoku shivered. Never touching anyone’s daemon, huh?

Hau lashed his tail, “I won’t let Shanks touch me, you can count on that.”

“You’re just jealous,” Hoku said. “Luffy and Soleil already said we’re first. And it’s not like Shanks is going to be here forever, he’s a pirate, remember?”

Hoku rubbed the side of her arm, looking down at her shoes, “He’s just… he’s just become Luffy’s idol. You see how he looks at him—Luffy knows what he wants to do now ‘cause of him.”

Hau huffed, whiskers twitching. Hoku gave him a little shove and Hau shifted into a bull, ramming at the back of her knees as Hoku laughed, shoving back at him.

Shanks was just a bit of fun, that was it.

- - - - - - - -

But Reina didn’t play by the rules.

“You’re getting faster, little dove.”

Hoku almost screamed. Her heart lodged into her throat, forcing her to choke as Mau nearly clattered onto the dirt from her hands had she not hooked it last minute. She apologized to the amused blade, checking for scratches and trying to work out a game plan in her head.

Hau frowned. As deep of a frown as an unhappy skunk could make, sitting by a log and looking pointedly Reina’s way.

She didn’t know when Shanks’ daemon had made her way over to them or where Shanks was, probably with Luffy to be honest, but there Reina was, living up to her name.

The lioness daemon was stretched out onto a fat slab of rock jutting upwards from the ground. Luffy used it as a launching platform a lot when they were playing. Her red-gold body rippled, leisurely soaking up the sunlight.

Hoku’s fingers itched.

Reina watched them with golden irises.

“Thanks,” Hoku said, trying not to be awkward but feeling very much so. “I’m not there yet though.”

Reina’s chest rumbled, a deep sound that made Hau wrinkle his nose in protest. She laid her head down onto her paws, rolling over onto her side. Hoku noticed the scars lining her softer underbelly, the notch missing from a piece of her flicking tail.

“You’ll get there,” Reina said soothingly. “Why don’t you take a break?”

I feel like I’m talking to the devil. Hoku shivered. Temptation incarnate. “I haven’t hit my number of swings yet.”

“Shanks and Luffy are playing by the harbor,” Reina almost purred. “Don’t you want to join?”

Hoku frowned at her boots. Yes. “No. I’m glad Shanks is taking up all his time.”

Reina’s ear twitched. Her eyes glimmered playfully. Hoku felt as though if her feet weren’t planted firmly to begin with, she’d already be making her way over to the lioness for no reason other than the fact that Reina seemed to be beckoning her over.

“How come you two can be so far apart?” Hau blurted. Hoku shot him a look of disbelief.

Reina’s whiskers twitched in amusement.

Hau hunkered down, waving his big bushy tail. “I-Isn’t it painful? It’s weird, daemons aren’t supposed to be able to do that.”

“You two seem to be able to go fairly far,” Reina murmured. “Is that not strange?”

Hoku and Hau flinched.

Reina laid her head down onto the rock, letting the sun color her pelt. She looked crimson gold in the sunlight. “He and I simply found it in ourselves to promise to live our lives to the fullest and the freest.”

Reina seemed to smile, lips pulling back to show her fangs. “Besides, like this, I can be with Luffy and he can be with little dove at the same time, hmm?”

Hoku and Hau blinked in confusion. They looked at each other and back to Reina who’d rolled over to show them her back, settling down for a nice, long nap.

“Finish up those swings, dove,” Reina purred. “Then let’s play.”

I miss Luffy. Hoku miserably flattened herself down against the grass, Mau propped up onto a trunk beside her. Hau was chirping haughtily in the tree branch above her, flapping his white wings even though he was supposed to be a toucan. I always run off even when he’s playing with Shanks. Maybe I should just suck it up and have fun with them too. Or, not fun. Just… spend time. Yeah.

Hoku groaned, rubbing her sweaty face with her hands.

“About time,” Hau chirped at her. “Let’s go! I don’t care if Shanks and everyone else is there, I want to see Luffy and Sol.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hoku snapped. “I heard ya. You just want to get touched again.”

Hau flattened, ruffling his feathers, “That’s not true!”

It absolutely is. Hoku sighed, preparing her aching muscles to lift her sluggish body up. Hau was practically touched starved and Luffy’s generous pats were like a drug. He did a good job making sure Shanks never got near him though. Hoku didn’t even flinch. Touching other people’s daemons is still such a weird feeling though, I can’t get used to anyone else but them.

She’d only ever touched Sable twice. Ki and Kekoa didn’t count because they were family. Soleil was the only one she ever really touch-touched, and even then, it was still a sensation Hoku felt all the way to the tip of her toes and down to her bones. Intimate.

Bet no one else has a daemon willing to get himself pet. Hoku peeked through her fingers at Hau who jumped from the branch and shifted into a little white butterfly. He’d turn into a dog later because it was easier to play with Luffy like that. What daemon goes up to someone to get themselves touched?

Some taboos just weren’t meant to be crossed.

A shadow fell over Hoku’s face and she blinked, moving her hands away to look up.

Reina looked down at her.

Hoku froze, stiff against the ground like a corpse. Her heart hammered stupidly loud in her chest, loud enough to burst through her ears. From this spot, she could make out every fine, red-gold hair smoothed over Reina’s slender face. She could see the dark lines that traced her feline gold eyes, followed the slope of her muzzle, to the long, elegant whiskers—a few cut short, and the few scars that lined her soft nose.

This was the closest she had ever been to the daemon.

She could sense heat from the lioness, hulking power and muscle. Reina’s killing paws sat on either side of her head. She could crush Hoku’s skull without much effort. Rip her throat out. In another world, Hoku would be fearing for her life—even in this world, Hoku was still fearing for her life, but, but, maybe death at the hands of such a beautiful, powerful daemon couldn’t be that awful.

Hoku waited, staring at Reina with wide eyes.

Reina blinked once, slowly. Something like amusement seemed to shift over the fine hairs on her face and she lowered her head over Hoku’s. Her body seized up, unable to breathe.

And then languidly, a warm, wet and scratchy pink tongue rolled once across her face, down her forehead to her lips and over her chin. Reina pulled away, satisfied, looking down at Hoku’s disheveled, slightly wet face and bulging eyes before calmly sauntering off, hips swaying.

It took her a moment. A good, solid moment. Her heart did something funny, her body frozen stiff and ascended to some other plain of existence, her mind whirring and still buzzing from the electricity of the slightest contact with—

Someone else’s daemon—

Reina—

Shanks’ daemon—

Touched—

Hoku’s face blushed a bright, scarlet red. She grabbed her face with her hands and rolled around in the dirt like the little bug she was.

Hau jealously nudged her face with his little ferret nose, huffing and puffing in displeasure.

She’d never been touched by someone else’s daemon before.

- - - - - - - -

The final nail into her own coffin was done by Hoku’s own hands.

At the crack of dawn, when the light was just beginning to crawl its way out of the horizon to peek over into the sky. Just hours before, Hoku had finally shown Shanks the book, speaking with him in the low light of that bar and making a total fool of herself—enough for Hau to tease and taunt her about it for hours until they fell asleep.

She woke up earlier than Luffy today, leaving him snoring in her hammock with Soleil sprawled as a baby badger over him. Hau woke up, slithering into her shirt and keeping himself warm by her stomach as they walked out into the forest.

Reina was already waiting for them.

“Dove,” Reina greeted, velvet voice carrying over as Hoku trudged through the dewy grass. Sunlight was warming her pelt, heating it up like a forge and turning the red-gold of her pelt darker and brighter.

Hau muttered a low, half-reluctant protest. Yesterday, Luffy had picked him up, holding him close and willingly thrusted Hau toward Shanks like some kind of sacrificial offering.

Shanks didn’t take the daemon, simply grinning in understanding at Hau’s horrified expression. Her daemon had never felt more betrayed.

“Hau, you gotta get along with everyone!” Luffy laughed. “Don’t be dumb like Hoku!”

Hoku couldn’t stop the greedy, uncontrollable itch in her fingers.

“...good morning,” Hoku mumbled, tucking hair behind her ear out of habit. Reina was stretched out, regal and picture perfect on that same slab of stone. Dawn was rising over the fine curve of her spine and the lioness kept her gaze on them evenly, waiting as Hoku slowly came to stand beside the slab of rock.

Reina’s ears swiveled forward. She watched Hoku, eyes glittering. A soft sound left her parted jaws.

Hoku hesitantly took a seat on the rock, a few inches away from Reina. She could feel heat rising from the daemon, her head turning to follow Hoku as they stared at each other.

She weakly raised one hand. Hau’s heartbeat matched her own.

“Could I… Could I draw you?”

Reina’s jaws parted to let out a soft rumble. Her body curved more, keeping Hoku in the middle. Her paws stretched out and Reina kept her eyes evenly on Hoku’s.

Hoku softly set her hand down on Reina’s side. Warmth flooded into her fingertips, spreading up her arm and making half her body feel almost numb with the sensation. Hoku’s head spun, buzzing with that vibrant thrum of energy as Reina’s pelt shifted under her fingertips. Hoku daringly let her hand come down Reina’s spine, feeling the muscles and scars in one gentle stroke.

Reina’s scratchy tongue dragged over Hoku’s hand in approval.

“I hope that man is deep, deep asleep,” Hau muttered. Hoku agreed.

She thought her heart was going to burst.

- - - - - -- -- - -

“This place is crawling with marines now,” Smoker said. “What are you going to do? Let them arrest you like some kind of washed up drunk?”

Hoku lightly pushed the glass in front of her. The bartender nervously refilled the glass, jumping in fear when Smoker glared daggers at him.

“Hoku,” Smoker said.

The woman kept swallowing mouthfuls of the whiskey in her cup, ignoring him. Blanca’s fur had settled over her back, smoothing out. His daemon watched the woman before them in silence, looking at Hau and then back to Hoku.

A soft sound left Blanca’s lips. Smoker shot her a warning look. The smoky colored husky daemon lowered her tail.

“What happened to all that spunk?” Smoker continued. “You don’t give two shits if I cuff you and take you in from here?”

Hoku didn’t even turn to look at them. She kept her shoulders hunched, curling in on herself over the bar’s countertop and refusing to meet the gazes burning into her back. The empty glasses spread out across the wood counter beside her, the heavy smell of alcohol settling amidst the cigarette smoke.

Hau kept silent at her feet, curled up and head low. Smoker observed the daemon carefully, noticing the matted fur, the dirt stains in the crisp white that used to be his go-to for hunting them down in the crowd. His unsheathed claws, caked with dried dirt and blood. The cleanest spot was the blood red ink curled over his half-hidden face under the countertop’s shadow.

A new spot was inked into his fur. A small, blood red flame right where the muscle of his shoulder blade bunched under his right foreleg. Smoker’s eyes traveled upwards to the matching red flame inked into Hoku’s skin over her right shoulder blade.

“This is it?” Smoker said gruffly.

Hoku snorted. Blanca shot him a look, gray eyes hard to read but Smoker never needed to read her eyes, he could hear her thoughts loud and clear in his own head, in the space they shared.

“Who cares,” Hoku muttered bitterly. “You got what you wanted.”

Blanca fell silent. Smoker shot his daemon a sharp look, but she refused to meet his gaze, tail limp behind her and ears pricked far forward, focused on the woman before them.

Hoku bowed her head. Her hands went up, carding through her hair, holding them there as though she were cradling her head in her hands.

“You won,” Hoku whispered.

His daemon took a step forward.

“Blanca,” he warned.

The husky kept her muzzle shut, looking at him.

“Smoker.”

Smoker tossed his cigar to the side. His gloved hand clenched into a fist before it loosened. Smoker let out an aggravated sigh, shaking his head. He took a step forward, raising his hand up.

Hau’s growl ripped through the air like a knife. A single, resounding warning. Smoker glanced down to the daemon, glaring at them with icy venom, fangs and claws bared. Blanca lowered her head only an inch, her only way of showing they meant no harm. Hau pulled his lips back into a louder snarl, tail lashing in aggravation.

Hoku glanced down to her companion, frowning for a moment before she raised her head and looked back at Smoker.

Tears continued to trickle from the corners of her eyes. They slid down the curve of her cheeks, dripping down her chin. Hoku watched him in silence, expression unreadable.

The admiral hesitated for only a second. Blanca let out the softest, softest whine.

For a moment, Hau’s body untensed, staring. The foggy look started to clear. Hoku’s brows creased and Smoker reached out with his gloved hand one more time.

The doors to the bar slammed open.

The light winked out from Hoku’s eyes. Hau stood onto his paws, head lowered, eyes narrowed into dangerous slits.

His men flooded the dimly lit room, raising their guns and shouting out orders as Smoker cursed in his head and Blanca’s ferocious barks of protest flooded the room over his, ordering the marine daemons to stand down.

Smoker lurched, eyes snapping in surprise to where Hau suddenly had Blanca pinned to the wooden floorboards of the bar. His daemon was silent, rigidly looking up at Hau with her teeth barely bared, body still while Hau’s jaws were wrapped around her neck. Smoker felt his teeth on his own, Hoku’s dead eyes looking at all of them.

“Go ahead,” Hoku said coldly. She turned to the marines by the door, half-smiling. “Just don’t forget, Hau’s got one more life over her.”

Blanca kept silent, staring imploringly at Hau. The panther ignored her gaze, keeping his jaws buried in the scruff of her throat, waiting. Smoker stared hard at Hoku and she kept her gaze on his men, expression devoid of emotion.

-- - ----- ----

“Estrella,” Law drawled, ice dripping with the roll of his tongue.

His daemon pounced.

They poor no-body marine dog never stood a chance.

--- --- ---- ---- ---

“No,” Law said. “This is rehab.”

He kicked Hoku’s lower back, sending her flying down the stairs with an ungoldy screech and down into the boiler room. Penguin and Sachi peeked their heads around the corner, staring down into the darkest depths of their sub while Law shoved a hand into his pocket.

“Is she still alive?” Penguin asked.

“She’s got a couple, right?” Law asked Hau. “Which one was that?”

Hau flicked his tail tip, the only sign of his annoyance. Estrella watched him with peering eyes, following the sway of Hau’s haunches as he slunk down the steps into the boiler room after Hoku.

“Fuck you, Law!” came the ghostly holler. “I’m going to blow up your submarine! You forgot I’m suicidal, asshole!”

Law looked satisfied, turning his back on them and closing the boiler room door. To Sachi and Penguin he added, “Make sure she doesn’t come out until she’s done.”

---- --- --- --- ---

Law froze, his entire body stiff as ice.

He took a moment, reassessing the sensation he felt unfolding in his chest. He considered it carefully, made sure this… this feeling was not a mistake, that he had not wrongly interpreted the shared sensation between himself and his daemon. He picked it apart in seconds, slowly, rigidly turning his head to the corner of the deck.

It was dark, only a single headbeam lit from the corner pathway of the submarine. The deck on top of the rounded hull was bathed in darkness, but even in the thin light, he knew down to his bones he was not seeing wrongly.

Law gave the woman beside him one discreet, searching glance.

Hoku looked completely and utterly unaffected. He watched her a second longer to make sure it wasn’t an act, but her careless, bored demeanor showed truthfully she had no inclination whatsoever to sharing his barely, barely startled turmoil. Hoku looked completely at ease, still squinting in the distance to see if she could make out the constellation they’d just discussed, mouth moving around the dried fruit she’d just popped into her mouth.

Law carefully, with great composure, withheld the light, creeping shiver that traveled down his spine. He narrowed his eyes, looking back, but Estrella coyly kept her mind blank, hiding all of her thoughts from him the way they’d taught each other to.

There, against the side of the entry doorway, the two of them laid.

Hoku’s daemon had stretched out, directly in the middle of the deck to keep the perfect distance away from either side of the railings. His long, furred body turned a pale, ghostly shade of white under the moonlight, large paws hiding pearl white claws. Hau’s side rose and fell in lazy slumber, his tail stretched out behind him like a white whip, ears twitching only occasionally.

But the issue was who was beside him.

Estrella had silently made her way from Law’s side across the deck to his. Her lithe, powerful feline body almost nearly matched his in size. Law watched her with rapt, rigid focus, brows furrowed in dark disbelief as his daemon purposefully ignored his silent prodding.

She stopped inches from Hau’s form, sitting on her haunches, tail curled neatly over her paws. Hau’s ear flicked once in her direction to signal he’d noticed, but kept his eyes closed. Estrella stared down at him, icy gray gaze that had stared back as she ripped throats out of marines and pirates and their enemies alike, becoming almost clear.

Estrella rearranged herself, laying down on her stomach barely a centimeter—a heavy, tense centimeter Law could feel—from him. She folded her paws neatly over each other, staring out seemingly in boredom. Her striped black tail flicked from side to side, occasionally brushing against Hau’s limp one. A ghost of a touch.

Touch.

His daemon. Estrella.

Hau didn’t move, tail limp, body relaxed. Estrella turned her head to look down at the other daemon, expression carefully blank. Her tail curled and then the tip of it brushed against Hau’s flank. His fur seemed to shift, bright, scarred pink nose twitching but he remained relaxed. Estrella seemed pleased by this and her tail promptly laid out beside his own, curling idly over his.

Touching.

Law looked back at Hoku and she reached for another dried fruit, popping it into her mouth. She shuffled through her bag, debating whether or not to shove a handful more. Oblivious.

Is your connection to your daemon that terrible? Law almost bit out. Almost. It would have come out calm and cold and collected. Are you that dull? Is it that messed up? Are you an idiot—

He went rigid, gripping Kikoku with white knuckles.

Law exhaled, slowly. He carefully turned over his shoulder, inch by inch, glaring daggers behind him.

Estrella didn’t even blink at him, eyes trained sideways and away. She looked silver against Hau’s snow white. Her long, raspy pink tongue slid out languidly from her mouth in soothing, relaxed motions. It showed off the dangerous curve of bone-crushing fangs. But Estrella’s tongue was now running over the top of Hau’s face, over his ears, around his neck as she turned her face and—

“Are you grooming him?” Law spat out in disbelief at her.

The snow leopard lazily flicked her tail behind her in response. Hau yawned, stretching his paws out, unbothered, and resumed his slumber as Estrella continued her grooming, content.

Law ripped apart the shudder that almost raced down his spine. He shoved the sensations traveling from Estrella and Hau’s shared connection, the low buzz of energy, of electricity that came when two daemons touched each. A feeling he’d only ever felt when Corazon’s Rosa would curl her soft, furry body up around Estrella—

He grit his teeth, squaring his shoulders and forcibly maintaining his composure as he promptly knocked Kikoku against the metal railing once.

Hoku looked up, brows creasing. A fruit stuck out from between her lips. She gave him a look, as though he’d done something wrong for disturbing her.

Your daemon is touching my daemon.

“Somethin’ wrong?” Hoku asked.

Do you not feel what I feel?

Law gave her a flat look. Hoku continued to chew.

Go get your daemon—

“Hoku,” she and Law both looked down. Hau’s voice was smooth and not too low, like a melted rumble. He came up to her leg, pressing his big head against her hip and curling his tail over her leg. The white panther daemon blinked blue eyes up at them. Law could see gold.

Hau seemed to examine Law for a moment before his long whiskers twitched. The white panther blinked once. Law stared back at him, curious about the eye contact someone else’s daemon was making with him.

Without even pausing, Hoku’s hand ran over his face, pushing past his soft ears and turning against his cheek to scratch under his chin. Hau lifted his head for better access, a loud rumble filling the air.

Several feet away, Estrella slowly made her way toward them, nonchalant and shifting mass of silver and black fur. She didn’t even acknowledge the icy daggers her other half was fixing her with, haunches swaying as she came up and sat down loyally by Law’s feet. Estrella looked up at Hoku, whiskers twitching.

“What game are you playing?” Law thought at her.

“Nothing,” Estrella thought back at him, innocent. “Nothing at all.”

---- ----- -----

P.S - If you guys like this au, highly recommend checking out 500shadesofblue’s story “Echoes” on ao3, super good.

#memos #memos au #hdm au #daemons #straw hat crew #shanks #trafalgar law #mihawk #mahina #manu #hoku #ko fi requests #smoker

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fanfoolishness · 3 years

Text

All right! Off to liveblog Chapter 9, The Marshal!

Ah yes, recap. “Traveling for me, that’s no life for a kid.”

Except searching and searching for a Jedi takes time. Except Din and the kid fall into routines and habits and sweet little moments throughout the day. Except Din dreams sometimes, in the dark of deep space, that there are no Jedi... that the kid will always need him, and he wakes from these dreams feeling both grateful and guilty

Moff Gideon totally killed those poor Jawas, didn’t he.

What would it be like to be a Jawa, to find joys in scrap and metal, to dream of Egg???

To scavenge, perchance to dream....

I LOVE LOVE LOVE all the graffiti art for this scene

Also, Grogu’s pram absolutely got scorched in the flame trooper’s assault and Din didn’t go back for it or anything. Yet they’re using the one Kuiil made? This bothers me and it’s so petty.

3PO made it into the graffiti <3

Grogu is a budding art critic, change my mind

Gor Koresh, such a dick. But I love the music being so reminiscent of Jabba’s palace! Ludwig Goransson, you’ve done it again

I wonder if Grogu gets overwhelmed picking up Force vibrations in crowds? Is that a thing? Or does he mostly just get senses from other Force-sensitives?

Wherever I go, he goes. BECAUSE HE’S YOUR SON DINGUS

I can’t believe how adorable Din is, going on to total creepos about the fact that he has Been Quested

It just speaks to a very sweet earnestness on his part

“Put up your armor for the info” and Din: swivels his head like woah

What is Gor Koresh going to DO with the beskar anyway? He’s not even wearing any???? What a prick

He absolutely deserves everything coming to him

But Din even gives him a chance! What an idiot

Kick... BABY! (Anyone else ever play Peasant’s Quest on Homestar Runner???)

I always forget about the whipcord. How do I always forget about the whipcord?

Ooh Mando has a very homey cape this scene, I like

I’m glad he’s leaving this guy to be devoured by monster dogs, he’s gotta protect any other Mandalorians that may run across him

Does Razor Crest strike anyone else as a rather feminine ship? It reminds me of a sea cow. She’s got a belly on her.

PELI MOTTO MY QUEEN

She’s sooooo happy to see Grogu and he’s delighted to see her too and they’re all just so happy together

“I’m here on business.” Does that mean that they sometimes hang out not on business? Oh, what the hell, I’ve already written the fic.

Peli doesn’t dare leave the city walls. But maybe she will again someday? Sit a little in the desert, feel the suns on her face, the wind in her hair?

Is this R2-D5? Like, THAT R2-D5 that the Jawas nearly sold Luke?

The speeder bike has rusted. This lends more credence to my theory that Din and Grogu got to have a good amount of time together!

Grogu LOOOOOVES SPEED

Boy’s gonna be a pilot some day

I just... love... all of Din’s visits with the Sand People so much

Siiiiigh I love all speeder music in this series so much. Again, Ludwig Goransson, YOUR BRAIN

Just imagine being a little kid riding in the speeder with your dad, knowing he’s gonna take care of anything scary, and you get to go fast and see everything and feel the wind and it’s so delightful and you feel so safe even though you’re going 200km an hour <3

Hmm so a whole night fell on the way to Mos Pelgo. I just love watching episodes and looking for pockets of time that I can exploit with fic :)

Just imagine a Tusken calling him out and signing the word for “your son” and Din just having to go with it.

I always forget there is a little notch under the ear piece thing of his helmet. I’ve been drawing the damn thing for 2 months and still don’t have it down.

Short!cape version, activate!

Fake Boba Fett: *arrives*

Did he seriously have spurs back in the day? God I need to rewatch the original trilogy, don’t I?

Din watching Vanth order spotchka and being confused as hell, like “you know we’re not going to drink that in front of anyone, right???”

The body language in this scene is so good. The way Din stops, mid-step, and freezes. Then breathes, heavily, frozen in place. Ready to fight. Pissed as HELL. Take. It. Off.

Oh Din. “He’s seen worse” is not exactly a ringing endorsement for your ability to keep him out of trouble, lol.

Just imagine Grogu curiously feeling the vibrations of the krayt dragon and thinking he’s never felt anything so BIG in the Force before

I always forget what the name is the for the liquefaction of soil during a severe earthquake.... *doublechecks* goddamn it it’s just “soil liquefaction”

Doodle idea: Din having to clean tobacco spit off Grogu’s clothes from the spittoon

Awww Din’s speeder is so tiny next to Cobb’s pod racer engine speeder

Cobb Vanth: *runs away, steals ice cream, I MEAN A CAMTONO*

Yeeeeah running into the desert was maybe not the best way to survive in most cases

Luckily Jawas on Tatooine are honest and want to trade instead of steal his shit

I’m excited to see how shit goes down in the Book of Boba Fett! Do we get to see the Sarlacc escape on screen, FINALLY?

Weequay bartender: “But who WAS that masked man??”

Pew

God I miss the amban rifle so much!

It’s such a weird and sexy weapon

Do the dog things have a name? Tusken snarlies?

Every time Din speaks Tusken I die a little bit because I love it so

Awwwww he’s brushing the bantha’s teeth!!! It’s just very sweet to see

Grogu: ‘plz to not be eating me”

Din: *so fucking impatient about this guy not drinking a fucking gourd*

Grogu: *yay I love it when dad shoots fire!*

I love the sign for “kill it”

I also love how done Din is with petty squabbles, like, at all times

He just has no chill. Just “stop your whining, dammit.”

Grogu: “my dad is so smart”. He’s hanging on to every word Din says

Grogu: *watches dragon* DO NOT WANT

I love it when Din gets sassy. “They might be open to some fresh ideas.”

“It’s to scale.” *cackling*

Din volunteering the village is very yes. I also love when he is just absurdly old-fashioned. “Dragon will kill you if it takes its fancy, yadda yadda”

More energy thoughts from Grogu — everyone focused, tense, worried but Grogu isn’t sure why

A bantha is essentially a ground Appa and my husband votes to rename them a Grappa

Sand People always ride single file, to hide their numbers

Ooooh is this the same “the village rises up to defend itself” motif as when the Sorganites were training with Din and Cara?

It sounds very similar, but I could be making this up entirely

This episode was so fun on first watch but it doesn’t have a ton of emotional heft. I still like it, because I love all of them, but it’s definitely not as ripe for expansion of content as some of the others. Except, of course, to the Din/Cobb shippers, who said “hold my beer” and went off. Have fun, you crazy kids.

Run Sand People run!!!!

Seriously though Star Wars suffers from a serious case of the ecology never making any sense. What do banthas eat???? There’s gotta be SOMETHING for them to eat!

Krayt dragon: LOLOLOLOLOLOL

Mando tiiiiime but imagine Din glancing over to Cobb and for a second forgetting and being glad to fight alongside another Mandalorian but then he isn’t

Also there’s definitely room in this episode to write some cute little camp out scenes with Din and Grogu, awwww

Farewell to Mos Pelgo!

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian chapter 9 #the marshal #din djarin #grogu #mando live-blogging

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Note

winter prompt fill 5, indruck, nsfw?

5: your car slid into a snowbank and i’m the mechanic that comes to tow you

Two hours.

Two fucking hours, that’s how far this guy is from town. But because he’s three hours from the one to the west, it’s Duck’s company that got the call from AAA for a tow. On night three of what's forecasted as a week-long snowstorm. And because it’s that kind of job, the call came in at 4:45 pm. At least he’ll get overtime for this.

Being out of Kepler means the radio has real stations, half of them playing blocks of pop hits and the other half blaring Christmas carols. Duck doesn’t mind either, settles on listening to crooning about sleigh bells and winter wonderlands as he tries to keep the truck from sliding into snow piles.

He’s all prepared to be aggravated at whoever was clueless enough to get themselves stranded and stick him with the four hour round-trip, but the closer he gets to his destination the more he sympathizes. Because this is a rural two-lane highway and not a major through-road, the maintenance is spotty at best. Couple that with the still-falling snow and he’s just glad the guy was in the kind of accident where he could still make a call after it.

The last half-hour he’s down to thirty miles an hour, lets out a groan of relief when the dead taillights of a car reflect back at him. Once he positions the truck and hops out, he rolls his eyes; the sedan doesn’t have snow tires or chains on, something even a person with a Nevada license plate should have known to carry north.

Duck wonders if being unprepared is a habit when the driver steps out in far too light a coat for the weather, shuddering and stuttering out an “Th-thank g-goodness.”

“Guessin you’re Mr. Wilde?”

Pale hair falls over red glasses as the man nods. With his hood up, he looks owlish, guarded. He’s all limbs and edges, and Duck can’t help but think of a stray cat that needs a warm bed and some food.

“Go ahead and get up into the passenger seat. Heat ain’t runnin, but it’s sure as heck warmer than out here. I’ll get her hitched up and we can get going.”

Another nod, the man hunching forward as he scurries into the truck. This is the easy part, getting the damaged car hooked to the truck and freeing it from the snow. The hard part comes when they turn towards town, two hours of darkness and icy roads ahead of them.

“I’m so sorry you had to come all this way. I, ah, did not intend to crash, nor to do so this far from help.”

“Hey, it’s what we’re here for. Gonna be slow goin on the way back, since it’ll be real fuckin embarassin to call a tow truck for a tow truck.”

A snicker, “I picture them as growing exponentially larger, like nesting dolls. A tow truck towing a tow truck towing a tow truck towing a car would be the size of a semi.”

Duck chuckles, “Yeah, it’d be a sight. And a fuckin nightmare for anyone who got behind it.”

The cab is warming nicely, so his passenger pulls back his hood. In the darkness he can tell the pale hair is metallic silver, and there’s a hell of a bruise blooming on his forehead. Duck’s never seen anyone quite like him, and if their survival didn’t depend on his concentration, he’d spend the next hour studying him.

“Damn, got banged up in the crash huh.”

“Yes.” The man gingerly touches the bruise, sighs, “It’s my own fault for being careless.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, nearly spun out on the way to get you from the damn black ice.”

“I wish I could say that was the sole cause, but I was also asleep.”

Duck bites back the urge to scold him; he wants him to be comfortable around him and besides, even if Duck is having a crappy night, this guy is having an even worse one.

“Wouldn’t be the first person who thought they could make it one more town before stoppin for the night and was wrong.”

“True. It’s just that, ah, I’ve been driving three days straight without sleep.”

“Jesus Christ, you on the lamb or somethin?”

In his periphery, he swears the taller man flinches.

“No. Just having bad luck with a chaser of poor choices.”

“Gotcha.” Duck drums on the wheel, “so, uh, Mr. Wilde, what do you do when you ain’t stuck in the snow?”

“I draw. And Indrid is fine…” he peers awkwardly at Duck’s name tag, “Duck.”

“It’s a nickname.”

“Ah. Are you a mechanic as well as a driver?”

“Yep. Do it part-time when I’m not workin at the national forest. Friend of mine, Ned, runs the garage attached to the Cryptonomica.”

“I recall seeing that when I drove through. Quite the Jacks of all trades, you two,”

“Most of Kepler’s got more’n one job. It’s the kind of place that’s always losin fundin or people, just barely stayin afloat.”

“One sympathizes. Do you like your jobs?”

“Trained in forestry, so it’s always what I’ve wanted to do. The mechanic stuff,” Duck shrugs, “nice workin with my hands and beein able to help folks out. And I ain’t half bad at it.”

“I certainly appreciate your efforts. I--wait, hold on, I’m sorry but I need to…” he turns up the radio, playing what Duck assumed was Santa Baby from the melody.

“He is saying ‘buddy.’ What in the world? Why would you change it?”

“Can’t have the fella in the red velvet suit thinkin you’re gay.” Duck jokes.

“Heaven forbid.” Indrid smiles, and Duck likes the expression so much he decides to see if he can get him to do it again.

“You wanna hear a slightly inappropriate joke?”

“Absolutely.”

“How come Santa don’t have any kids?”

“How come?”

“Because he only comes once a year and it’s down a chimney.”

There’s a beat and then Indrid guffaws, covering his face with his hands as his whole body shakes with amusement, “that was horrible, do you have any more?”

Thank god he’s got a wealth of bad jokes tucked in his brain. When he exhausts those he and Indrid trade brainteasers, stopping now and then to talk about their lives. The taller man asks Duck about his jobs, about the woods, and the town, and offers a few anecdotes in exchange. Duck senses they’re about they’re set in a time in his life that’s further away than Indrid would like.

Indrid also readily shares the snacks from his small backpack. Duck eats what he can while still safely piloting the car. Then nearly takes them across the yellow line when Indrid unwraps a Starburst with his tongue, and prays the man will stay in Kepler long enough for Duck to take him to dinner.

-------------------------------------

Given he was expecting a painfully awkward trip at best, Duck’s friendliness is a welcome surprise. Now that they’ve been stuck in the car together for close to two hours, Indrid is confident saying this is most fun he’s had talking to someone in a long time, even before things went all to hell.

It helps that Duck is the picture you’d get if you googled “Indrid Cold’s type”; sturdy, handsome in an unassuming way, undoubtedly pleasant to cuddle, with muscles that Indrid is positive could hold him up against a wall for at least a few minutes. In another life, one that’s so far away he fears he imagined it, he’d wait until they were done with the business portion of this evening, then slip Duck a card with his name in silver letters and his hotel room number on the back. The man is so genuine in his kindness too, Indrid feeling safer in the dark with him than he’s felt in years.

Which makes him feel even worse about what he’s going to do.

“Not too far now.” Duck turns the windshield wipers up a notch, “thank fuck for that.”

Indrid curls forward, holding his stomach, “I, ah, I really hate to say this, but I’m afraid my gas station lunch is coming back up.”

“Shit, okay, lemme pull over.” Duck guides the truck onto the side of the road, “do what you gotta do.”

His hands are on his lap, keys still dangling from the ignition. Indrid lunges over, grabbing them and trying to shove Duck into the door in one go. The mechanic is too fast, yanking the keys to his chest.

“What the fuck man!?”

“I’m so sorry about this!”

“Then fuckin stop!” Duck kicks, misses, and Indrid knees him in the stomach as gently as he can.

“I can’t, I need the truck.”

“Are you fuckin car-jackin me right now?”

“It’s not personal.” He gets the keys away, only for the world to flip ninety degrees as Duck tackles him backwards.

“It sure feels like it is!”

Indrid hoped that his survival instincts would kick in hard enough to make up for the exhaustion and that coupled with the element of surprise would bring him success. Instead, his limbs have no power behind them, and all he can do is curse when the driver flips him onto his stomach, trapping his hands behind his back and pinning him with his body weight.

“Fuck.” It’s a pathetic noise for a pathetic man.

“Explain. Now.” Duck growls.

“I, I, you were right when asked if I was on the lamb.”

“....fuckin what?”

“It was a set up, and I finally, finally got free, and, and I will not go back, I can’t, but if I’m out a car I need a replacement and-”

“And you almost stole a truck that’s got a goddamn tracker in it.”

“Oh.” He presses his face to the seat in shame.

“Somethin tells me you ain’t a seasoned crook.”

“I’m not a criminal at all! I have no idea what I’m doing. I was just going to drive and drive until I hit the coast, I hadn’t even decided what to do after. I, I’m sorry, I waited until we got close to town so you wouldn’t be too far away to walk home safely. I, ah, I wasn’t prepared for having to do this to someone I like.”

Duck shifts above him, mutters, “what the fuck do I do now” to himself, and tightens his hold on Indrid’s wrists.

Indrid whimpers, realizing with horror that his body responded to the mechanics of the fight but not it’s context.

Duck freezes at the noise, and when Indrid hazards a peek the mechanic is staring down in disbelief.

“Are you fuckin hard from this?”

There’s no use in lying, he’s faced worse humiliation than this, “Some. Not on purpose. I, ah, I enjoy rough treatment.”

Duck’s face fills with bitter amusement, “And I like givin it. But not to fellas who nearly steal my truck. Fuckin figures the first guy to flirt with me is doin it for some other reason.”

“That’s not true, my plan involved no flirting.” Indrid huffs, “I was flirting because I think you’re handsome.”

More pressure on his back as Duck leans down to whisper in his ear, grinding against his ass, “Yeah? Were you hopin I’d fuck you in here? Or over the hood when we got back?”

“Maybe.” He manages a smirk.

“Hopin I’ll fuck you now?”

Indrid nods, but Duck doesn’t notice. The mechanic sits all the way back, releasing his hands, “too damn bad, because unlike you, I only take things with permission.”

“C-consider it granted.”

The hand finds his back again, but instead of shoving or grabbing it strokes up and down, “Indrid, I’m serious. I ain’t doin anythin if the only reason you’re offerin is because you think I’ll hurt you if you don’t.”

“I’m not. I want this, Duck, I want to be with you.” He’s going back to jail one way or another after this, unwilling to consider the thought of hurting Duck to get the keys. He’d rather go back with one happy memory and a few minutes of fun freshly stored in his mind.

There’s silence, Duck’s hand still as he thinks. Then it comes down hard on Indrid’s ass, “Okay sugar, happy to oblige you. Besides, seems to me you owe me an apology for that sorry excuse for a car theft.”

Indrid moans loudly when Duck hauls onto his elbows and knees, though it’s the pet name that hits deeper than any of the much-welcome pain. The waistband of his dollar store sweatpants hits his thighs, there’s a pop of something plastic, and then a slick finger is teasing between his asscheeks.

“Vaseline. Great for keepin your skin from cracking in the cold.”

The finger disappears and he whines, pushing his ass back and getting it slapped so hard he yelps.

“Nice try. But this ain’t for you, it’s for me. Don’t got a condom and only got a tiny bit of this left and it ain’t enough to fuck you full on.”

“It’s alright, I like the pain, you could use spit or-”

“Nope” another slap, “that turns into the bad kinda pain real quick. Now open your fuckin legs.”

Indrid does so, gasps happily when Duck slides his lubed-up cock between his thighs.

“Close ‘em and keep ‘em closed. Good, ohfuckyeah that’s good.” The thrusts are already fast, Ducks hands holding his hips in place, “fuck, tell you what sugar, you may be a shitty crook but you’re a damn good lay.”

“Yes.” Indrid moans, scrabbling for a hold on the upholstery.

“Shit, you do like it rough. Like it when I talk like that?” One hand comes down, petting Indrid’s head and brushing his hair away from where it’s stuck over his eyes.

“So much, Duck, please, please, more, I want more AHgod!” Tears slip past his glasses as Duck hits the right side of his ass over and over again. He’s been treated like a criminal mastermind, made miserable because of it, so being nothing more than an eager piece of ass is a welcome change.

“Then I oughta tell you this is what you get for tryin to get one over on me. Think you can throw my ass out in the cold? Gonna turn yours so red you won’t be able to sit for a week.”

He’s so hard it isn’t even funny, and beneath the wonderful cycle of pain-relief-pain-relief his mind chants safesafesafesafe.

“Fuck, Indrid, I’m so fuckin lucky you tried that stunt on me, can’t wait to cum all over that cute little ass, ohyeah, fuck, fuckyeah.” He pulls out, cum spurting onto Indrid’s ass and legs and Indrid hears his own voice saying “thank you” as he does.

As he’s contemplating what form of begging will earn him an orgasm, he’s flipped onto his back, one calloused hand pressing him down by the shoulder while the other jerks him off. He squeaks and squirms, one palm thwacking into the door as his right leg catches the steering wheel.

“Sensitive, sugar?”

“Yes.”

“Shoulda thought of that before you bent over for me.”

“TechnicallyAH, you, you’re the one who bent me over.”

Duck jerks him extra hard in reply, grinning. The sight of him is just the right balance of menacing and protective that Indrid only needs two more bucks of his hips before he’s cumming. The mechanic works him through it, squeezing him roughly just to hear him whimper (Indrid’s certain of it).

He sits back and starts putting his clothes in order as Indrid lays there, panting from exertion and the weight of reality on his chest.

“I don’t suppose you have something I can, ah, wipe off with before you take me to the station?” He asks softly.

“I’m not taking you to the police, Indrid.”

“What? Why?” He bolts up, his mind screaming that he shouldn’t ask too many questions lest it make Duck change his mind.

“I’m not sure what kinda guy fucks someone and then hands them over to the cops, but I’m damn sure I don’t wanna be one.”

“You’d do that without even knowing the full truth?”

“Wouldn’t mind if you told me.” Duck starts the car, adds “seatbelt” as he pulls back onto the road.

Indrid gets his pants up and buckles in, huddling in on himself, “As you probably guessed, my name isn’t Wilde. It’s Indrid Cold. Wilde was the man I stole that car from, who also had a very nice AAA plan it seems. I am, or was, an architect. Quite talented, if I do say so myself. And many other people said so, once upon a time. My firm got a contract with a certain large city to design and help build a bridge. I was head of design, and I was certain this would be the project that made my name. It did. Just not how I hoped.”

Duck slows down as they reach the edge of Kepler.

“Have you ever heard of the Silverlake Bridge?”

“Ain’t that the one that collapsed a few years agooh, oh shit was that your bridge?”

“Yes. Halfway through the project, I became concerned that certain elements of the design would not be as stable as they needed to be and might collapse without warning. The higher ups said it would require a larger budget to do the new, far safer design, but gave me the go ahead to finish my proposal of the securer model. They accepted that design, and I thought that was the end of it. Turns out, they funneled the money needed for the better bridge into their own pockets, both my bosses and the representatives from the city. Unbeknownst to me, they built the weaker bridge. When it collapsed I” he takes a deep breath, the memories surfacing in a tidal wave, “I was shocked, and prepared to accept responsibility, as I could not understand how the design failed. It was only when the investigation revealed how it failed that I understood my warnings had been ignored and I was being set up as a fall guy. Not only for the collapse, but for the missing funds, my bosses swearing up one side and down the other that they’d given the money to me to manage. They’d had this planned for months, and so had built our communication in such a way that I had no proof the money hadn’t come to me. Thus I was blamed, tried, and convicted, and in the minds of many I am responsible for the death of 67 people.”

The engine shuts off and he looks up to see them in an auto garage. Duck is turned to him, face so sad and sympathetic that Indrid could almost believe..

“You think I’m telling the truth.”

“I know you are. Not sure how, but even though I ain’t much of a liar myself, I can usually tell when someone is bullshittin me.”

“I don’t want to go back to prison.��

“You won’t.”

“Duck I, I can’t ask you to hide me, that could put you in danger of arrest.”

“There’s all of four cops in Kepler, and I’d bet my life no one here could pick you out of a line-up as a ‘disgraced architect Indrid Cold.’ And if we need a cover story, Ned’s got a knack for ‘em.”

“We?”

Duck cups his cheek and Indrid leans into it, “You and me. Indrid, I think fate is a load of bullshit, but I can’t shake the feelin me pickin you up tonight was meant to be. Lemme help you, please.”

Indrid sets his hand on Duck’s own, “Okay. Ah, where do I stay? I have fifty dollars left.”

“Could stay with me if you want. No strings attached.”

“Is that your way of letting me down gently?”

“My way of saying you don’t gotta fuck me to have a place to live. If you wanna fuck me just because, say the word and I’ll rail you into next week.”

“I’d like both those things so very much. Though right now all I want is to sleep.”

Duck leans forward, kissing him so chastely that the following lovebite is all the more thrilling.

“In that case, sugar, let’s get you home.”

#Indruck #indrid cold/duck newton #winter fills #mechanic au #on the run

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