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#written on like an hour of sleep
fairyofshampgyu · 10 months
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Been in a dom gyu brainrot lately I HAVE BETRAYED MY ROOTS IK IM A DISGRACE 😟😪 IT WONT LEAVE MY MINDHSJ ITS PAINFUL BUT ANYWAY SHORT DISCOMBOBULATED DRABBLE
Thinking about high sex w stoner boy beomgyu with piercings ! whose always known to get into some kind of trouble all the time, always mischievous and teasing and your friends saying he’s bad a influence on you and you shouldn’t hang out with him that much but you still do and don’t listen to them, always dismissing and saying you have absolutely NO feelings whatsoever and that it is PURELY platonic despite harbouring the most intense feelings for this guy sigh…😟 but you know he’s only trouble and probably doesn’t like you that way so you just kinda ignore it.
But one day you find yourself in a random quiet empty bedroom at a college party with him, sitting on the bed together as he smokes a joint and you both talk and laugh about random shit away from the mess of a party going on.
Beomgyu nonchalantly offers you his joint and you, slightly timid stumble and admit you’ve never tried it. Beomgyu only grinning at you, eyes lighting up at that and insisting that you should at least try, saying he really wants to get high w you and that it would be so fun with you, saying that he’d make you feel safe, it’d just be the both of you you trust him right? You’re good friends after all 🤷‍♀️.
And so you awkwardly take the joint, doing what he tells you to do, a bit nervous and embarrassed and still confused despite the simple introductions. Beomgyu chuckling at you and coming closer to you as he decides to just hold the joint for you instead and places it to your mouth, guiding you in and it feels way too intimate with the way he’s looking at you as well.
It doesn’t take long before the weed starts to kick in, both of you taking long drags and passing the joint round and you guys getting extremely high off your asses, anything and everything becoming funny.
“Heyyyy, heyy gyu. What’s shotgunning? I’ve heard it before idk what is is thoughh. What is it?” it’s a genuine curious question your stoned self asks and beomgyu’s eyes widen for a split second before he’s smirking widely and raising a brow at you.
“Could show you if you want~” And you nod your head rapidly, stoned self just so curious and innocent, it’s hard for beomgyu to contain himself.
He cups your cheek and comes even closer to your face, lips very lightly grazing at yours but enough that you can feel his snake bite lips rings faintly on you as he smugly puffs the smoke into your mouth, his eyes not leaving yours as he grins, hand still softly on your cheek, your mouth hanging open as you gasp loudly, not believing what’s even happening rn.
“Come on now it’s only fair you do it to me too right?” Beomgyu sits back, and stares at you, ego a bit too high rn as you hesitantly shuffle closer to him, feeling your face drastically heat up and you take a drag nervously, slowly inching towards him before beomgyu’s impatient self sighs and pulls you into his lap so sudden and harsh you yelp.
You take turns shotgunning, lips faintly touching but never enough, your brain and the room clouded over with curls of heavy smoke and weed as you breathe heavily and your face is still so heated up, eyes half lidded. Beomgyu finally pulling away and stopping, softly giggling and asking if you get it now.
Your baked ass then touching his lips, running your fingers over his lip piercings, eyes crazed and babbling about how hot you’ve always found his snake bites hot and beomgyu chuckling at that, both of you staring into each others eyes and looking down at your lips that he finds himself smashing his lips with yours, making out intensely but sloppily for what feels like hours, beomgyu hovering on top of you as his rough kisses start to trail elsewhere and you can’t help whimpering his name as he sucks hickeys and goes even further to your collarbone and his hands roaming practically everywhere, him still teasing you until you’re pleading that you need him so bad and right now.
Not even a breath later and he’s fucking into you with frantic urgency, not bothering to take either of your clothes off, settling for quickly pushing his baggy ripped jeans slightly down and pulling your panties to the side, lifting your shirt up so he can see your tits jiggling as he practically pounds into you erratically, hips smacking with yours as he moans even louder than you the entire time, rubbing his thumb over your clit, still making out with you and smelling the strong scent of weed from each other, still so dazed and both your minds fogged even more sensitive because of the drugs, everything feeling 10x stronger as he desperately tries to make you cum on his cock and it’s not long before he’s coating you too and fucking the cum back into you, fucking whilst stoned so messy
Then you wake up the next day, trying to remember what even happened, freaking the shit out and ready to run away any second, nearly leaping out the bed but beomgyu only pulls you in closer, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist so you can’t escape, sleepy and stupid grin on his face, mumbling about how he hopes you don’t regret it and that he definitely doesn’t
“Hmm~let’s skip classes today and cuddlee. You’re so comfy.”
“You’re always skipping classes, choi beomgyu.”
“So what?! You still like me hehe”
“When did I ever say I liked you?!”
“As if I wouldn’t notice. You’ve been giving me heart eyes for ages. It was cute loll. You were so bad at hiding it~”
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arthursfuckinghat · 2 months
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There needs to be a scientific study done on how Rockstar Games' Arthur Morgan is able to provoke the most earth shattering emotions I didn't even know I had in me
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dawnbreakersgaze · 1 month
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Excuse me but the idea of MC and Xav sitting on their respective balconies and texting each other The Tea while people watching in their neighborhood is both so silly and so endearing to me.
So let's go on a small adventure, shall we?
Warnings: None.
Just fluff. Pure, unadulterated fluff.
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The late morning sun was already warming you through the windows of your tiny apartment before you'd even stepped foot outside. It was finally mid-spring in Linkon, which meant you could enjoy your late breakfast on the patio without having to worry about a stray chill or errant frost dampening your weekly Saturday 'brunch' plans.
Opening the patio door with your granola bar in one hand and phone in the other, you settle into the cushioned bench that overlooked your apartment courtyard and took a deep breath. Sometimes it felt like winter was neverending in Linkon, but you could finally feel the tension of the gripping cold that had settled in your bones start to slowly bleed from you.
After getting comfortable, you finally pulled out your phone, and quickly found your brunch 'date's' contact info, sending him the customary "Get up it's people watching hour" text.
[Hey Xav, you up? I'm already on my balcony?]
It doesn't take long for his reply. This has been your weekly tradition for a few months now. Ever since you had both just so happened to see that kid getting dragged down the street by the monstrous hound, it had become something of a... habit for the two of you to text each other the funny happenings on your street when you were home. Not that either of you were particularly prone to gossip, but the simple domesticity of it was oddly comforting after a long week of getting slogged on by wanderers.
[Yeah I'm up. Give me a sec]
The soft ping of your notification broke the peace, followed shortly by the shuffling of his patio door sliding open from above you. Sure, you could simply call out and greet him, as the acoustics out here are great and the soundproofing is atrocious, but the silence is cozy, and the atmosphere almost feels magical. This is your ritual, after all.
It's a bit like a storybook scene, you think, the two of you sharing a moment in time together yet still separated by some outside force. Maybe it was silly, but the fabricated longing almost made it feel romantic in a way that you're sure your neighbor would find ridiculous.
When you hear his footsteps above you come to a halt, you immediately notice something in particular is missing, however.
[You forgot your coffee Xav. Are you gonna be able to stay awake?]
[How could U tell?]
[I didn't smell any burning 🤭🔥]
He doesn't reply, but you can hear the huff he makes over the railing as his footsteps retreat, fading behind the sliding door once again. You don't even try to hold back the laughter his reaction elicits from you, hopeful the concrete carries it to him easily.
When he finally does reemerge, faint smell of bitter charred beans on the wind, his phone is already buzzing with the morning's newest additions to your people watching portfolios.
An older man you'd long ago dubbed "Green Thumb" who liked to frequent the flower garden outside your apartment complex was already taking photos of the new stargazer lily blossoms that had just opened this morning. So enamored by the vibrant petals, he didn't even seem to notice the couple he'd backed into who'd happened to spill their groceries all over the sidewalk. You heard Xavier call "Watch out!" From above you when he'd recognized the impending impact, but at your distance, it was no use.
[That was nice of you Xav. Too bad it didn't help 🫠]
[I can't believe they didn't see Green Thumb. He was so hard to miss. Even when Ur distracted U still see better]
[HEY! I'm not the one who sleep walks! 💀]
[And yet I'm always there to guard Ur back partner]
He's right of course, though you're not going to tell him. Xavier likes to play the part of a soft and harmless little thing, but it doesn't take much to stoke the hunter into burning hotter than you intended. His evol might be light, but you know better than anyone that light, under careful concentration, can start a blazing fire if you're not mindful. His teasing isn't ever harmful though, so instead you decide to simply poke the bear.
[Only because I'm starting to suspect you like it back there]
The distinct sound of a phone accidentally hitting the concrete marks the end of that thread.
Its not long before another of your regulars, pair of young kids Xavier had called the Trouble Twins arrived on scene. Aptly named for the number of times their poor mother has chastised them for chasing the ducks and picking the flowers, the siblings were quite the rambunctious duo. Today they seem to be a few steps ahead of their vigilant mother, rushing into the park with high-pitched hollers and improvised swords made of small branches they'd found. Today's unfortunate conquest seemed to be the pigeons that were being fed by the local grannies.
[They look like a pair of knights today don't they?]
[Knights? Don't knights usually protect people?]
[Maybe they're protecting us from the pigeons]
[Xavier those old ladies look pretty mad idk. That one even tried to chase the boy and almost caught him!]
The pause in messages was punctuated by his soft laughter above you, carried on the spring breeze. It was so warm, so genuine, so comfortable. You didn't need a mirror to feel the heat bloom in your cheeks; the overwhelming sensation of ardor flooding you at the the very sound.
[You're right. He needs more training. A good Knight should never be caught by an old lady]
[.... I don't think that's the message here Xav]
The rest of your morning goes back and forth like this for another hour. Watching your favorite people pass by, concocting new and interesting stories for them as they pass your balconies. Xavier has very interesting and oddly insightful opinions on those around him, considering you don't really recall seeing him with many friends. None the less, his company and companionship on your balconies has easily become your favorite part of the week. The only noises between you are the laughter that passes back and forth as the texts volley from one to another.
Finally, as the afternoon sun starts to become an uncomfortable heat, your phone chimes once more.
[I'm getting kind of hungry]
[Oh good. You're warning me this time. Thanks!]
[What?]
[No. I was going to ask if U wanted to go to lunch. With me, I mean?]
And just like that, the storybook was snapping shut. No longer a fragment lost in time where two people gazed at the same scene together from two separate places, but a tangible moment you could step into. Something intimate and real.
Perhaps you stayed in this thought a moment too long, or your silence below him made him second guess himself, as the chime of your phone snapped you out of your daze again.
[I didn't mean to impose if U have plans]
[I know it's Ur day off too]
Fumbling with the suddenly slippery device, softly cursing, and praying he didn't hear, you quickly hammer out the only thing that's been playing in your head on repeat-
[Yes absolutely! I'd love to grab some lunch I'm starving]
[Meet me downstairs in 30?]
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sunny12th · 1 year
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been thinking about the rotting blue heart in the House of the Undying that seemed to nearly kill Dany and the Heart of Winter that made Bran cry. Drogon ate the blue heart, saving Dany, and destroying the HotU as a result. Dany also ate a raw stallion heart to give her son (the stallion who mounts the world, the title that actually belongs to Dany/Drogon) strength.
There's some foreshadowing there, right? Dany and Drogon (plus the other dragons/dragon riders maybe) are gonna eat the Heart of Winter? Dany consuming death itself? life eating death, fire melting ice, etc. Obviously the "Heart of Winter" might not be a literal and physical heart.
Bran eating the Heart of Winter through Summer; Summer literally consuming Winter. We see him eat while in Summer's mind in the books, it's an escape from his own nagging hunger. Hunger is for winter, feasting is for summer.
Eating as a celebration of life. I like this visual better than This Character strikes down the Big Bad with a sword. I also like it more than the three dragons simply burning whatever they see in the Heart of Winter. Eating is a celebration of life; I read a post awhile ago about how grrm puts so much Detail into his descriptions of food because of this. because it's all about celebrating life in the face of death, when you know Winter is Coming anyways.
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monstrouscrew · 5 months
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when the winter solstice comes, and there's no central heating for your fragile humans in the room, you can still be anything.
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(ID in the alt text)
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b4kuch1n · 5 months
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took a mock ielts test today
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thevalleyisjolly · 1 year
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Something about Neverafter and consumption, devouring as an act of survival, defiance, fear.  Stepmother faced with the unbearable horror of her existence, ripping her teeth through every might-have-been and was-not and gorging herself on the endless, infinite glut of every story that forever binds her, a cosmic ouroborous.  The Baron of Bricks, who lived once and then ate, ate of industry and steel and arms and bricks, ate of Death itself, so that all that he fears, all that once made him feel small and inferior, he takes into himself and tells himself that now he lives, now he is stronger for it.  Candlewick, trapped in the nightmare of twisted childhood, turned to cannibalizing children just as the island has always done in its own way of sticky-sweet forbidden promise.  La Bête, taking apart every sinew and joint of her captor and this is no banquet but it is more than sustenance, it is victory, of a kind, to take what imprisons you and eat of it, to take its power over you unto yourself so that it cannot hurt you again.
(What they don’t tell you is that it doesn’t stop hurting in the first place)
((If consuming your misfortunes and devouring your prison is supposed to be a victory, the proof that you have taken the power over you and made it part of yourself, why have you never felt more cornered, more afraid, more desperate, more trapped?))
And then Ylfa.  An offer, by one who has eaten, will eat, will be eaten.  She takes what seems to have torn her life asunder, wolfed it down as it wolfed her Grandmother down, becomes the very thing that made her who she was, and lives.  Except.  Except there was an offer.  There was an offer and a choice, and maybe it was not the eating but the choice, willingly given, and a decision, willingly made. 
Eating, not as an act of survival but as an act of life.  Not gnawing away at the bones of your monsters until they can no longer hurt you, until you have proven your utter victory over the dust of their marrow, but digging into a proffered feast that may or may not have been meant for you but is nonetheless given to you so that you might eat and live.  Living not to consume, not to take what you please because it is there and you can and you need to or perhaps you just fear you will be the one devoured otherwise, but consuming as a part of life, taking your fill of what you need, of what is given to you for that very purpose, so that you may find yourself in the act.  Not just eating, but eating well.
All things are consumed in the end.  I love you.  I want us both to eat well.
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So it's a typical Tuesday night and all I have to say is that I adore Wylan and Jesper and their love so much!! 🫶🏼
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They have experienced a lot of cruelty and been through a lot of pain and hurt in their lifetime and then they find each other and it's like something shifts. As Taylor Swift would say planets and stars aligned to make sure that magic happens when they found each other.
They shared a night together which was dazzling in its own way only for it to end like that's the end of the story, when that was just Chapter One.
The next time they meet it feels like the song some of the original lyrics of Gorgeous were written about Wylan quietly pining after Jesper “You're so gorgeous and I ain't just talking about your face but look at your face and I am so curious your mind got me feeling some type of way ... 'cause you're so cool,  yeah you should think about the consequence of your magnetic field getting way too strong ... you know it ain't my fault ... you're so cool it makes me hate you so much ... I'm nothing that you want but I must say you're gorgeous. ...” 
And then they become friends and get to learn more about each other and start falling for each other. We get to witness what “... for once, you let go of your fears and your ghosts. One step not much, but it said enough. ...” “... we can't make promises now can we babe ... is it cool that I said all that? Is it chill that you're in my head? 'cause I know that it's delicate. ...” looks like on our screen. The gentle way that they care about each other and for each other ... UGH MY HEART!!!!!
Even when they are on the battlefield, they are so in sync with each other. The way they are their badass selves and look out for other people while simultaneously looking out for each other? The way Wylan has his hand on Jesper's shoulder when they are first on the ground and trying to figure out how to go about things as Tamar asks them who they are!!!!! Wylan's little smile and nod when Jesper goes ahead to show them “what it's like to be blessed”!!!! The way Wylan comes picks up one of Jesper's guns and gives it to him after that!!! And then all those little moments in the background where it seems like Wylan is hurt and Jesper does not leave his side once!!!!!
“MY MAN” (moonlit witch version willow ~ I'm begging for you to take my hand, wreck my plans that's my man!!!)
*twinkling sounds of a key being made*
Someone with gambling addiction using the thing they are dependent on to try and give Wylan a home. Wylan who has never known what a home is before “... because all these boys ... never took me quite where you do. And all at once, you're the one I've been waiting for – king of my heart, body and soul ... the taste of your lips is my idea of luxury ... we rule the kingdom inside my (your) room ... is this the end of all the endings, my broken bones are mending with all these nights we're spending ... baby,  all at once, this is enough. ...”
Also thinking about Kit and Jack's response to the question of what Wylan and Jesper's universe would like and they said something like — if wesper could create their own thing ... it would be quite a cozy place. There would be a fireplace and a safe - where they keep the guns and the bombs. They would hold onto their weapons as there is danger outside and in comparison to that, they feel safe together … they found each other amongst the chaos. … <3 
And how they found a home within each other — “they have quite the opposite first impressions but when they start speaking there is a shared language that they have and a shared understanding. They want to look after each other and protect each other amongst the utter chaos … they are able to sort of engage in what is quite a joyful, lovely time. They are both very damaged; especially with trust is how they are able to find homes within each other, safety within each other in amongst the wildness. …”
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skoulsons · 11 months
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Eye To Eye Is All We Can See
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• gif by @azertyrobaz
Pairing: Ezra & Cee (Prospect 2018)
Word count: ~2900
Summary: Ezra says something stupid and Cee tries to convince him that he’s wrong
A/N: Nothing except I wrote this until sunrise , so I apologize if it is absolutely terrible, downright ooc, or horribly grammatically. I have not rewatched the movie quite yet 💀 Just a bit of fluff and a tiny hurt/comfort?? Don’t ship them!!
Tagging my favorite people who I get to talk about this movie with: @sotvtaughtmehowtofeel @not-so-mundane-after-all @orangechickenpillow @jessahmewren @alternatewriter @starchild0985
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Thank you,” she said.
They’ve been together a few cycles, the Green Moon left far behind them.
The cycles have been nothing short of eventful in a small spacecraft and two strangers in a very complicated relationship. Cee has had to keep an extra keen eye on Ezra. Not because of distrust, but to make sure his arm is healing well. Or, as well as a cut-off limb could heal with limited medical supplies and a kid, though capable, having done the operation.
Also because Ezra keeps forgetting he’s lost an arm and continuously reaches out for support along the walls of the ship when he moved from their sleeping quarters to the cockpit and he has fallen every single time. He fell out of his bed the first night they were in it; Cee spent five minutes trying to pull him back into the bed and then another fifteen having a verbal battle with him to try and convince him to get back in bed.
There have been moments of frustration where things catch up with Cee, her irritations coming out verbally to Ezra. He never fights back. He always sits, patient and understanding as Cee rehashes the things she’s kept bottled up and taped down for years with all the strength of scotch tape that’s lost all its grip.
They were also navigating their route off the Green to somewhere safe and figuring out… what exactly they were. Strangers? Partners? Friends? Family? Ezra has treated Cee as a real person, a girl with agency and deserving of a fruitful life since the second he met her; it’d be difficult to walk away from someone who gave you something you missed out on all your life. In that same way, it’d be hard to walk away from a kid that saved your life—twice.
Cee also had nightmares about the Green. The Saters, the mercs, the music, even her own father. Ones of Ezra, too. Him dying, abandoning her. Him using her, just like Damon seemed to do. On the worst night, the night when Damon and Ezra’s lifeless eyes were all she could see and their cold, torn open skin were all she could feel, she woke up crying.
Ezra was at her side before she even woke, unsure what exactly to do. He waited, and when she finally did wake, with a tear-stained face and a burning throat, Ezra’s compassion was overwhelming. His eyes were gentle, concerned. He kept his only arm hovering over her shoulder, waiting for permission. She let him hold it, for both their sakes, wishing she’d hugged him instead. Wishing she met him on the floor, their legs a conglomeration of limbs as he held her tight against his side. Instead, he stayed beside her until she calmed, quiet and reserved affirmations in It’s okay, little bird and You’re safe, Cee. Damon's cold, almost robotic responses to her harsher dreams were always Quit your crying or It’s a dream, calm down, so when Ezra keeps a firm, reassuring hold on her shoulder, talks her through it, and wears a soft smile Cee thinks she got to see even before Kevva knew of it—one that is only heightened when the stars of the Black shine enough light in to highlight his strands, making him look less intimidating than he makes himself out to be—Cee relaxes. How a stranger, of all people, can sit beside her and walk her through something so small compared to what all the Black has to offer is beyond her. How Ezra, literally, stooped down to her level to comfort her.
It doesn’t make sense. Nothing that has happened the last seven cycles makes sense. The Green and the people, if they could even be called such a thing, that the pair encountered still seemed so far away from Cee. That they were things that seemed only to be written in fictional novels and included in stories of old.
Except for one thing. One thing that makes sense. One thing that Cee is becoming more clear on with each passing cycle. Perhaps the clearest thing to come out of their time together.
He cares.
She cares, too.
And now they were in the Black, and had been for six cycles. The vastness and eternity of the growing darkness offered a strange comfort to both of them. Despite their care for each other, freedom was out there. Freedom awaited the both of them out there. Separate freedom.
Cee was always confined to Damon. She was always just another pair of hands to mine or hold something Damon couldn’t. An extra pair of eyes to search for Aurelac or an extra pair of ears to listen for any harm or to protect him, completely selfishly. Damon never acted selflessly, not even for his own daughter.
She hadn’t much freedom apart from him. She was always tied to him and his work. She was never given opportunities away from him. No chances for her to explore on her own. To see what was so great about this life that Kevva gifted her. She never had the chance to meet other people and form lasting friendships. She wasn’t given time to… live.
The Black offered that to her—Opportunities. Planets to stop at, to lay low on. Places to settle down. A life to live.
Ezra had freedom ever since he was a kid. He was free, encouraged even, to explore. To get to know the world around him. The vastness of the growing creation. He had the freedom, the opportunities, to explore all of it. But as he grew, there was a hunger for earning. A hunger for points and mining. Anything that could offer him a more than satisfactory life. Aurelac, specifically. An attachment to the work, the hunt, also selfishly. He did what he had to to get what he wanted, similar to Damon. Only Ezra, despite being on his own for most of his adulthood and being separated from his family for longer, cared. He cared enough to listen and pay attention to a little girl he didn’t even know.
He cared enough to be fair. Even split.
Being free from his work wasn’t too far-fetched for Ezra, but it happening because of a child was definitely not his expectation.
Especially someone like Cee. She had a fire in her. She was capable, he knew first hand she was. She was strong, threatening when she needed to be. She was skilled, intelligent, able.
But she was just a kid. He saw how scared she was, even with Damon. But in their time on the Green, he’s gotten to know her. Cee was kind, careful. Ezra noticed the way the inflection in her voice changed when she got excited about Streamer Girl. She cared and she protected. Her heart was big, willing to risk her life to go back for him, even after he specifically told her to go.
Cee was good. All she did was help. Love. She wasn’t a killer. She wasn’t selfish. She wasn’t ruthless or hungry for points. She wasn’t bad.
Ezra believed himself to be. He killed. He was willing, ready, to kill. Someone who has that reputation isn’t good, especially when killing a little girl’s dad gets added to the list, despite what he thought of the man.
He doesn’t believe he’s worthy to be thanked. That anything he’s done, especially to her, is any reason for thanks.
“Oh, no, nothing to thank me for, birdie. I have left you barren and deem your gratitude inappropriate for such a time. Ever since you touched down on the Green Moon, your conditions have been less than unacceptable…”
“Ezra…”
“...and I have been present in all the things that have troubled you so greatly these last few cycles. You have been burdened with dragging my weakened bag of bones across the Green.” “Even as we venture into the Black, you have continually endured my long-winded communication and idle, though I believe fascinating, narrative.”
“Ezra-”
“I am a bit crestfallen that you’ve been subjected to a multitude of predicaments in the time we’ve been together and that I have imparted insignificant salutary to your current expedition.”
“Ezra.”
“The Saters, the mercenaries… I’ve only brought you hindrance after hindrance, little bird. Allow me to implement points in to your care so that you may persevere in your journey and-”
“Ezra!” she shouted, grabbing at his face. Her hands reached his neck first, fingers stretching to the back of his neck, tickling his hairline.
She doesn’t know what this is like. Damon was never really gentle with her. Not physically, at least. She thinks, maybe, he was gentle with her when she was born. Holding her in the crook of his arm, her small, fragile head resting in the safety of his hold. Her skin held against his, breathing in tune with his, eyes fluttering open to catch her first glimpse of the world; her father, a tight-lipped smile strung across his face as tears well in his eyes, his thumb gently rubbing back and forth over the blanket she’s wrapped tightly in, occasionally bringing his thumb up to her red cheeks, a quiet hi to greet her.
Something she thinks Ezra could’ve done.
Something she suspects Damon didn’t do.
Something she knows Ezra would’ve done.
Cee pulled her hands away from his neck and brought them to his face instead, her palms too small to hold him the way she wanted to. She tried, letting them rest against his cheeks and feeling the scratch of his beard beneath her fingers. She kept her fingers outstretched, her pointer and middle threading lightly through the hair above his ears as her last two sit beneath his ear. She kept her thumbs in place on both his cheeks.
If there’s something to say, Cee can't say it.
She’s used to apologizing. She’s used to apologizing over taking up too much space. She’s used to apologizing over getting excited over Streamer Girl. She’s used to apologizing for eating too much of their rations, even when it was the amount she and Damon agreed on. She’s used to apologizing over resting, even when there was nothing to do. She’s used to apologizing over… being around him. Her breath was enough to apologize for.
But this wasn’t for apologizing. Ezra said something stupid and she needs to convince him that he’s wrong.
But the words can’t come to her. They don't. A contrast to how Ezra seemingly has an eleven page research paper of words on hand at all times, no matter the situation, Cee comes up short on correcting him. On affirming him that he’s wrong. On reassuring him that he has helped her.
He’s a grown man. A grown man who killed her father doesn’t need affirmation. Doesn’t need reassurance. And he surely does not need his face held because some kid thought he said something stupid.
Definitely not.
She holds his face firmly, the skin of his cheeks forming at her hold. “Don’t… say that, please. You’ve…” she pauses, inhaling and exhaling through her nose, forcing herself to catch his eyes and to make sure he hears her. “You’ve done a lot. You have. I know it’s… it’s only been a few cycles, but…”
You saved me. You protected me. You kept me. You came after me. You encouraged me. You made me feel safe. You tried to sacrifice yourself for me. You killed for me, more than once.
You loved me. You love me.
Her mind races with all of it, every word holding an unimaginable weight she had never experienced prior. Every word holding truth and passion behind them. Honesty covered every single one, Cee knowing in her soul that that was the man Ezra is. Those things he has done for her, how he’s treated her—that is who he is.
She watches him, wondering if, somehow, the look in her eyes could say the words for her. And if the glimmer in his eye is any indication, she thinks the burning it has left in her heart has found its way to his, too.
She could never say any of that about Damon. He wasn’t an encouragement and any dreams she had and wanted to pursue were shut down by him. She didn’t feel safe with him—not the kind of safe where she’d hide behind him if they were approached. There wasn’t any confidence that he’d care to protect her with his life. And if it came down to the Saters, Damon wouldn’t have kept her.
Ezra was different. Ezra was new, fresh. Real. He showed her more in seven cycles than Damon showed her in sixteen years.
That, to Cee, was enough.
She was wanted now. She could tell. Ezra’s attempt at telling her he was no good for her and saying he offered her nothing was the furthest thing from the truth.
Cee has sought connections all her life and was always denied or taken too soon to form a new one. It was always just Damon. Ezra went through so many partners in his life that he became numb to anyone who would stick around permanently. Numb to anyone who would ever be with him—his other half. And when a child entered his life and created and filled the hole in his heart that wasn’t there before, it became something supernatural. A longing he had immediately, and also a resisting. He was dangerous and he managed to put Cee in some of the most risky situations in under a day.
But Cee didn’t focus on that. She saw through that. She saw his passion and interest in the things he talked about. While it has only been with her, she’s seen the way he cares. The way he went to walk her through the operation on his arm. How he smiled at her and had an immediate pet name off hand to call her by, which, surprisingly, has stuck around—not that she would ask for him to stop using it. How he indulged her interest in Streamer Girl, saying he must now read it after hearing her praise it so well. She’s seen his gentleness in how he’s treated her, spoken to her, but also his violence in how he’d protected her from the mercenaries.
He’s done more than enough, as much as he may try and convince her, or himself, that he has not.
She smiles at him, her hands still on the sides of his face. Before she has a moment to really think, she brought her hands around his neck more, tilting his head down and his forehead towards her. She goes to the side a bit, kissing the skin right at the hairline of his blonde section of hair. She takes a moment to breathe in while her lips are still pressed to his forehead and her fingers lay by his ears, gently holding his head in place.
If she can’t find words, she hopes this works in their place.
She pulls away from him, keeping her hands still on his face as she settles their glances back. Ezra smiles as he shyly drops his head, breathing out a light laugh. Cee smiles, too. A wide, happy smile. One almost unfit after all she’s been dealt.
Cee drops her left hand to his shoulder and takes her right hand away from his face and brings it to the blonde section of his hair. “So…” she starts, rubbing some strands back and forth between her thumb and pointer finger, “how did this even happen?”
Ezra lifts his head, trying to move his head out of Cee’s grasp, but she just laughs, continuing to rub the strands together. He stops moving his head and looks back at her, a more serious expression on his face. “Quite the story there, little bird.”
She makes a face. “...And? We’re not in a rush.”
“That we aren’t, birdie. That we aren’t. Still, it’s a bit of a lengthy tale that I don’t believe to be worthwhile taking up any cherished time we have on our trek-”
“Ezra.”
“Yes?”
“Are you avoiding my question because it’s an embarrassing story?”
Ezra looks offended and starts backing up his claim with no’s and some long and winding explanation as to how, after inhaling alarming amounts of Dust in the Green, he was brought to Central to be fixed up. A few cycles in, Ezra, prematurely, got out of bed and tripped over himself, hitting the small guard rail on the other side of the bed, knocking himself unconscious. The incident gave him nine extra cycles at medical bay and, within a few weeks, after his wound had healed, his hair was growing back blonde.
They laugh together in the ship, the joyous noise echoing off the walls as they continue to pile on jokes and more stories as the conversation flows. By the end of it, Cee’s face is red and Ezra is breathing heavily, both of them slumped against separate walls, holding their stomachs.
It’s true, there are opportunities out there in the Black. Places to settle down and figure things out. And with each new passing cycle, their decision becomes more clear: they’re figuring it out together.
~~~~~~~~~
post-fic note: I can’t remember exactly, but Ezra’s hair growing back blonde after an incident I think comes from another prospect fic out there, I think we violent ones, but I’m 100% sure if it was that one or another one. All that to say it is not an original idea and I don’t take credit for using it for Ezra’s character. I liked the idea of it when I first read it and wanted to use it similarly
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yewphoric · 5 months
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WIP Wedn.... Whenever
so i WAS gonna try to do this on wednesday but..... oh who am i kidding, i only just started something worthy of a post
thank you for the tag @oblivions-dawn !! i taggggg.... @multi-lefaiye, @skitzo-kero, @anexor, and @potatolordofficial !! no pressure ofc :]
today i present screenshots of not one, but TWO pieces!! that are intended to be companion pieces!! and im going CRAZY over this idea of mine i swear. one must imagine me vibrating and running in circles and jumping up and down.
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RAHHHH !!!
hopefully i can get these finished and posted within a reasonable time, but this is coming from the same person that's still working on their WIP Wednesday piece from [checks calendar] 2 months ago WHEEZE
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moongothic · 9 months
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I did not take any before photos, because all I meant to do was remove this busted ass backpocket from an old pair of pants and leave it at that. This was not supposed to be A Thing that I'd document. It was supposed to be a quick, low-effort improvement
But then I noticed this
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A rip. On the ass seam of my precious pants. Kinda, it's not quite a hole yet but as you can clearly see, the fabric has deteriorated really badly and is well on its way to becoming a massive hole. On the ass seam.
And so I spent 8 hours mending these god damn fucking pants
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If you needed more context as to WHY I'm so deeply upsetti about fixing these pants, here, I'm not even bothering with a TL:DR
The damage was about like 5-7 cm long (did not measure and can't be bothered to go check anymore), quite sizeable and as you can see from the photo above, quite see-thru. Like it wasn't too bad YET, I don't think anybody would've been able to see my underwear through the ripped area but. I wanted to fix it before it got to that point, right
So yeah. Started working on mending the seam at like 4 am, after I super quickly watched like two YouTube videos about mending rips on pants just to get an idea of what to do and just went for it.
Important thing to note is that because I started working on this in the middle of the night, I could not use the sewing machine because it woud wake up the whole bloody neighborhood. So it was gonna be all by hand
So I grabbed some scrap black cotton fabric I had laying around to use as reinforcement for the mending. In one of the videos I watched, the person demonstrating their mending technique used some iron-on adhesive to attach their fabric patch instead of relying on pins. Because I wanted to make this as easy as possible and because I figured it could help stabilize and strenghten the broken fibers a little bit (maybe?), I used some fabric glue because it's all I happened to have on hand
So I very gently dabbed a tiny bit of glue onto the the damaged area (inside the pants) and slapped my fabric piece onto it, cutting it slightly smaller after the glue was dry enough
And yes I failed the apply the patch straight so the first like centimeter of the damaged area didn't even get the patch on it. But like. Whatever man fdjghskdjfg
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I picked some sewing thread that matched the pants' colors the best and just. Got to mending/borderline embroidering. On the bottom picture, you can see the first litle bit of mending I did on the right side, mostly on one red stripe and just a smidge on the black to the right of it.
It looks like ass.
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Also, although I tried to apply as little glue as possible to the area, I still appearently managed to apply too much, so there's like visible glue residue on the ripped area. The glue also made the fabric really stiff and thick, which I could notice because I could tell if I did any mending outside the glue area, like my needle could pass so much easier through the two layers of fabric if there was no glue.
This alone made the process of just mending this rip take eight fucking hours. Also using a single thread of sewing thread did not help, I did realize on the final four stripes I could hold two threads at once for better coverage, so better late than never, but jesus christ I'm a dumbass
(Also no I absolutely do not expect the sewing thread of hold up super well, it'll last however long it'll last and that's that)
But yes. I kept on mending. For eight hours. From 4 am to noon. I did take like two brief snack breaks but that was p much it. Eventually, I had this on my hands
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Cleaned it up a little bit and it turned into this
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Now this cotton I used to reinforce the rip probably wasn't the best pick because it did want to start fraying immidiately, so I ended up applying just a smidge of the fabric glue onto the black cotton too, just to help it last a smidge longer maybe and keep it from fraying
But yeah, with that, the mending was done. I did have a Moment of Fear when I realised that the black cotton was quite thick and I was suddenly So Afraid the patch would become visible once I'd put the pants on-- like the shape of the patch ghosting on the other side. Which, considdering the shape and the location of it would be absolutely mortifying
But, when I did a quick test try-on of the pants I realized that the rip was actually much lower than I first thought, closer to my crotch than butt. Also, while the mending looks horrendous close-up, ain't nobody going to notice it from a distance when it's so low in my crotch.
So it's all good! The mending worked out!
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Again, it doesn't look good close-up, it's super wonky (since the glue spread the fibers and left them stuck in the position they were in and I was just trying to follow the stripes), but it's good enough
Anyway, at that point I figured. I've gone out of my way to fix this rip when all I meant to do was remove a back-pocket. I might as well go all the way and fix that pocket properly too
To me back-pockets on pants have no purpose aside from maybe protecting the actual fabric of the pants from wearing out so fast by taking the damage instead. So I didn't need a pocket replacement (hence I considdered it optional to begin with)
But when I ripped the pocket off you coud see where the pocket had originally been, and while the indentation could probably be fixed by ironing the pants a bit, there were these small holes from where yarn had gone through the fabric so like. Yeah let's just replace the pocket
(Also sorry about the cat hair, did not clean it for this photo because god knows it would've been covered in a whole new layer 2 minutes later, you know how it is)
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Using the same black cotton (since it's what I have and it fits just fine here), I freehanded the pocket like a gremlin.
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Could not be bothered to do a better job, but again, I don't need it to be a functional pocket.
The good news though was that by this point it was noon, so I could bring out my sewing machine to finish the job for me
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(I could have hemmed the sides, but did not bother. It's going on the inside, this is good enough)
Pinned it down to where the original pocket had been (using the indentation as a guide) to sew it on
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And boom, pants fixed
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The pocket took me like less than two hours to add (but this doesn't include the time it took me to remove the original pocket in the first place), so, yeah, much faster than hand-mending the rip.
In hindsight, I probably should've replaced both pockets if only because the fabric on the other pocket is wearing down, but like
By the time the thought crossed my mind I had already lint rolled all the cat hair off the pants and ironed them, the sewing machine was already put away so I did not want to bother with it. It's fine
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But ye, you really need to look close to notice the mending, my 13~ish year old pants from approx. middle school are okay now, they have been saved. And now I can wear them to tomorrow's convention. Wheeeeeee
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i am going to fucking explode this class with my mind. what the FUCK do you mean NO POINTS for late submissions. killing stabbing biting maiming
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daz4i · 11 months
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wait okay. instead of going to sleep like a normal person. here's how I'd change the ages in bsd (for those that have a canon age), bc no one looks their age/it makes the timeline feel weird, i wanna let at least some major past events breathe a little between one another. possibly controversial takes ahead:
atsushi: i like that he's 18 actually. he looks and feels 16 but no yeah 18 works better. I'd say 20-21 would be nice but that'd reallyyyy throw his backstory's timing off unfortunately
dazai: 25
kunikida: around 27-28
ranpo: 28 also, maybe even 29 (his whole thing is that he looks young for his age anyway)
yosano: 28 as well
tanizaki: like. he does look 18. but also 16 and 21 at the same time. i like him as a bit older than atsushi so let's say 19-20, and naomi as well while we're at it
kenji: why is he 14. it's not that he doesn't look 14 it's that i simply did not expect a child to be the muscle in a detective agency. so please make him like at least 16 which is only just slightly better tbh
kyouka: yeah 14 is chill in her case imo. makes her more tragic 👍
katai: 27-29ish as well
fukuzawa: at least in his 50s. maybe 55ish, or even more. he def looks like it and it fits more with having a son in his 20s
akutagawa: i do want him to be older. but making his age gap with atsushi bigger is weird. so keeping him as a 20 y/o it is, maybe 21 at most
chuuya: 25
kouyou: 30s. early 40s even. she is already so milf coded. finding out she's 26 in canon was straight up offensive i swear. come on.
higuchi: 21
tachihara: 22 or 23 maybe? (the hunting dogs don't have canon ages but i like jouno and tecchou as 26ish so that way he's still like the baby of the group)
hirotsu: how is that man 50. make him 65 at least. jfc. the whole point is he's been with the mafia a long time. ik they keep recruiting teenagers for some reason but give me a break. my dad is pushing 70 and looks younger than him
q: actually my issue with them isn't that they don't look their age (tho they do look a bit younger ig) but that timeline wise?? they're so weird?? why did the mafia have a 6 y/o on deck that's just inconvenient for all parties involved. like i can excuse kyouka at 11ish but come ON. at least make them 10 in fifteen. or just bring them in later bc i just realized the timeline doesn't line up with the dazai and chuuya changes otherwise. man idk
odasaku: girl that man was NOT 23 when he died he should've been like at least 27 then
mori: late 40s or early 50s. keep the few years gap from fukuzawa maybe but he should still be older
ango: 29ish in the current timeline. or even 32. idk why but that number feels right.
francis: 45 at least. how is a 32 y/o man supposed to have a daughter old enough to study abroad...
poe: 29
melville: actually he is the only one aged correctly in this entire manga. bestie 🔥🔥🔥🔥
steinbeck: 24. maybe even older
lucy: 20-21ish. same issue as akutagawa really
louisa: 25 at least please 🙏
nathaniel: 34 maybe.
margaret: also early 30s. how the fuck is she 20. like kouyou this is straight up insulting 😭
mark: ageless for he is the spirit of youth and joy (yeah 22 is chill for him actually. he's like the taylor swift song. he'd love that)
mushitaro: tbh I'd make him more around 29 or even older than 30. like he would be a believable 35 y/o to me if needed.
nikolai: actually him being 26 is chill too. tho i wouldn't mind making him around 28-29ish too since i already aged up most 26 y/os so may as well go all the way.
shibusawa: yeah he can stay 29 too idm. i actually didn't know he had a canon age until now. cool!
i think that's everyone who has a canon age (excluding lns bc i haven't gotten to them yet)? aside from sigma maybe but his age is more of a plot device than a fun fact. and fukuchi is implied to be the same age as fukuzawa so, yeah just make them the same in this case too.
i did mess up the timeline myself with this. so lemme clear it up:
The War and the whole thing with mori and yosano still happened when she was 11, so 17 years before canon. that means mori was still in his 20s back then, no big change
untold origins still happened when ranpo was in his teens, honestly we can keep it 14, so 14 years ago, meaning fukuzawa was in his late 30 or early 40s. again not too big of a change I'd say
fifteen happens when. well. dazai and chuuya are 15. ten years ago. i don't want q there get them out of my sight (for now) let them be a kid for a bit!!!!! but yeah like in canon that means the previous boss's murder was a year before, 11 years ago. also while we're at it, stormbringer is also the same aka a year after 15
now this is where we shake things up just a bit. rather than occuring when dazai is 18, i think we can push the dark era to when he's 20 and still maintain the whole childlike thing he has going on there, it's not that big of a difference imo.
that means, 5 years before canon instead of 4, making akutagawa 15 back then, and ango 27 like odasaku.
also yeah q comes in at some point in the middle between those^ I'd say close to dark era than fifteen.
originally i wanted to make skk 26 but this started stretching things even more. bc now we gotta figure out how long dazai spent in hiding. and ig we can keep it 2 years and just make it so his entrance exam was 3 years before canon. again imo not that big of a stretch 🤔
idk why i said this changes the timeline a lot i think this is p simple. also lets ppl stew in their situation for just a bit longer which i like more.
thank you for reading. you are very brave and strong for pulling through. feel free to disagree with my takes but just be nice about it please. I'm also open to hearing other takes if you have any that i didn't consider 🫡 but again just be nice okay?? 🥹
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caricature-of-fic · 5 months
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2x mini fic for: 1x03 Witch
POV Giles; 2. POV Buffy
----
Had he thought himself prepared, when he was called upon to act as the Slayer’s Watcher? Prepared to take on this task that he’d barely expected to be assigned at all anymore?
Had he thought he knew what it would mean, to watch over and prepare the one girl whose life was to be dedicated, fully and without fail, to the greater good, to the saving of the world from all those malevolent forces most humans had no idea they needed saving from?
Rupert wasn’t sure anymore, but he thought he had. After all, the job being to prepare the Slayer herself, wasn’t it automatically implied that he, as her Watcher, must already be prepared?
Shifting the Slayer—Buffy, shifting Buffy in his grip so she wouldn’t slip from his arms, so he wouldn’t drop her on the concrete—shifting her carefully and clenching his jaw at her quiet moan, he knew that he’d been wrong. He, and everyone who’d prepared him for this job, this calling. Because the Slayer wanted to go to the local disco and to be a cheerleader. Because the Slayer had defeated a master vampire before Rupert had ever laid eyes on her, and instead of accepting this as her initiation into the life that destiny had decreed to be hers, she tried to turn her back on her Calling, and on him. Because despite her obvious contempt, she immediately took up her weapons when necessary, and did her best to keep everyone else out of danger.
Because the Slayer was a girl of sixteen, and he’d been prepared—or at least willing—to pitch her against all sorts of demons and creatures, and she’d seemed easily up to the task when she’d been stubbornly asserting her teenage will and punching and staking anything that required such treatment, her small, thin body belying the strength she wielded.
God, she was so small. So small, and so very, very young. Did he remember what he’d been like at sixteen?
He didn’t, not really, but it hardly mattered. Buffy was sixteen now, and despite all the preparation he’d received from the Watcher’s Council, he had in no way been ready for the reality of being responsible for her.
Because that was the crux of it, wasn’t it? The Council had meant to prepare him to wield a weapon. A living, breathing weapon, but a weapon nonetheless. Instead, she had come to him a human, a teenager, with opinions and objections in abundance, and with a personality as strong as her powers, if not, impossibly, stronger.
If he’d been better prepared, maybe he’d have known how to handle that. Handle her. Maybe he’d have known how to squash her protests, her rebellion.
Maybe having her lie dying in his arms would not feel quite so much like losing a child. Maybe it would simply feel like a moment of professional failure, no more. He’d known her less than a month, for heaven’s sake, and in that short time the majority of their encounters had been accompanied by an intense sense of frustration. By all rights, it should not be such a hardship.
By all rights, she should get to live her life in peace. Not making the cheerleading squad should be the greatest of her worries.
Buffy grimaced in his arms, and Rupert knew that he was, to put it the American way, completely fucked.
---
coda.
“So, is this usually how things work for you?”
Buffy glanced up from where she was rummaging through her bag for a pen. She had committed to spending her free period to catching up on her math. Well, more like, she had absently mumbled in Willow’s vague direction that she really should do that, shouldn’t she, and Willow had responded to the idea—more of a passing thought, really—with an enthusiasm that Buffy had yet to learn to expect, and, well. Somehow it had turned into a sort of commitment, so she should probably at least be ready to take notes, right?
Right.
“With the failing to find the materials needed to do actual studying?” She shrugged, taking the opportunity to briefly give up her search. And then take the pen that Willow held out to her. “Oh. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome! But, uh, no, I meant…” Willow glanced around, as if anyone on school grounds would care what the two of them were saying. “It’s all, slaying vampires and hunting demons for you, right? And witches, now, I guess, so… do these things always just, you know, show up to interrupt whatever you’re doing, or…”
“Oh.” Buffy took a moment to reflect. “Never did so far? Well, until now. Believe it or not, but until recently, my life was actually pretty normal. School, friends, sports… Nothing even tried to kill me until I was 15! Unbelievable, right?”
Going by Willow’s frown, maybe she’d overdone the perkiness on that last bit. Oops. Buffy shot her a halfhearted smile. “Okay, seriously, no. The interfering in my normal life activities is kinda new. Except the whole vampires-in-the-school-gym was obviously also a major interference, but that was more a… coincidence, I guess, not an attempt to assassinate my academic career.” She swallowed. “Wasn’t really expecting to have the first normal high school girl activity I go for be a source of supernatural trouble, no.”
“And it wasn’t even vampires this time, huh.”
Willow was looking at her all sympathetic. Buffy wasn’t entirely sure what to do with that. “Guess I can count humans among the things that might try to kill me now! Fun times. Who ever said being the Slayer was boring?”
“No one, I think,” Willow pointed out reasonably. “This didn’t even have to do with being the Slayer though, did it? It was just… Amy, well, Amy’s mum being way too much into cheerleading.”
“Great! So it’s not just who I am as the Slayer, but who I am as a Buffy that makes people murderous!” Maybe her smile was a little bit manic. So what? She had earned a little bit of hysteria, hadn’t she? “Willow, promise me, if you ever feel like murdering me for any reason, let’s talk about it first?”
“Um. Sure? I’m not planning to, though. Murder you, I mean.”
“I cannot tell you how grateful I am to hear that.” Buffy lightly pushed her shoulder against Willow’s before finally turning towards the, as of yet unopened, math book. “On second thought… if it’d get me out of math…”
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tswwwit · 1 year
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do they ever just…make out. like lay there for half an hour and just do it for the hell of it. or are they like hmm but we COULD be fucking let’s do that
Of course they do! It just wouldn't be very interesting to read.
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ozymandiasdirge · 5 months
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i really do like oda i feel like i have to preface this that im chomping at the bit to get the actual plot with ace's execution moving since its been like 25 chapters and luffy STILL doesnt know somehow but im two and half chapters into amazon lily and some of this feels like its so comically misogynistic that star trek the original series in 1966 would have been like okay we need to rethink some of this
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