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hehebread · 4 years ago

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[BKDK] Izuku keeps mentioning a Kacchan to reporters and they think that's his gf

this was a request on twt that i had way too much fun writing. warning for suggestive language!

“And is there…. a special person….or a group of people you would like to thank on air today? Anyone who inspired you? Anyone you would attribute your success to? An image of victory per say?”

Izuku’s eyes glimmer as the bright lights of the studio reflect on his irises. “Oh!” He jumps in his seat, his perfectly- coiffed curls bouncing as he nods frantically to the show’s host. “Yes! Yes!” Leaning forward with his hands on his leg, the camera zooms in on his face where the blush is painting his cheeks. “I wouldn’t be the hero I am today if it wasn’t for Kacchan!”

And it’s as if an earthquake alert dropped on the talk show. The host grows this devious grin on his face as he turns to the camera team and says, “Well, well, well, behind every great man is a woman after all.”

Izuku isn’t quite sure why the host is bringing his mother into this since the interview is reaching its end and he has already discussed her influence in detail very early on, but he doesn’t get a chance to ponder.

The host, Yamaguchi-san, leans into Izuku’s space with renowned interest and an interesting glint in his eyes. Izuku feels himself sweating in his oversized maroon-striped suit.

“So, Midoriya-san, Hero Deku, Rising Symbol of Equity and Hope, can you tell us more about … Kacchan?” His voice goes higher at the last syllable, almost sing songs, and Izuku is not sure if he should be worried or not, but he won’t pass an opportunity to gush about Kacchan!

“Ah, Kacchan is very … confident, hardworking, strong, and smart. Kacchan is a hero who knows how to lead a team and perform under pressure, an inspiration to both myself and our entire graduating class, and a”—Izuku can feel the heat rise in his face as he tries to hide in his colour— “a shining star who was closer to me than All Might!”

The host makes a loud ‘AWWW’ noise at the same time as the small audience in the studio. “My, my! Sounds like Kacchan is very important to Hero Deku! Don’t be shy! Tell us more! Is there a physical description to go with your precious person?”

“Ahm!” Izuku fiddles with his fingers as he avoids the gazes on him. There a long beat of silence before he manages to say, “Muscles….Blonde…..Sharp eyes….” With a vague gesture to his middle section, he mumbles, barely audible, “Big, ugh…..” Heart.

“OOOOOOOOOH!” The host goes wild and so does the audience. “So are we talking Hiromi Oshima type big or maybe Rio Natsume, or aaaah Aki Hoshino even ….?”

Izuku feels his ears ring in humiliation as he tries to process what they’re talking about. Something Kacchan has in common with all these beautiful women is his big successful career so Izuku nods. “Yes!” Then, a thought occurs and he rises in his chair. “Even bigger!”

After all, Kacchan’s net worth is higher than these ladies.

“BIGGER?”

“The biggest!”

“Oh my god!” The host is losing his mind now! “And is it … natural? Or did Kacchan get a little help from professionals?”

“No, no, no! Kacchan was a natural ever since we were in school together!” Izuku’s eyes shine with a fire to defend his childhood best friend, no longer trying to hide in his big suit. “No one helped Kacchan get this big!”

“That’s … amazing!” The host shakes his head in both awe and disbelief. “Now we want to see Kacchan in action! When the hero works around the city, defeating villains, does the size get in the way?”

Does Kacchan’s fame get in the way of his work? “Sometimes,” Izuku muses, “But Kacchan never lets the restless and perky nuisances stop him, y’know. With a little shake from his hands, and a few colourful words of wisdoms, nothing gets in the way!” Izuku laughs as he remembers Kacchan’s way of dismissing fans and reporters alike.

“Wow!”

“Of course, there are times where Kacchan’s big firm moulds become springy and hard to control, but I have yet to see an instance where that has been a major issue. ”

Kacchan is still having some adjustment problems with his new hero costume, particularly his grenade mould, but that’s as far as distractions go.

“Does Kacchan not use support?”

“Uhm, only when it’s a dire situation! Sometimes I’m even allowed to provide assistance!”

“You must be very lucky…”

“I am! It feels … exciting and … very special! Kacchan doesn’t trust just anyone, y’know! I can never quite get used to the trust we built together. We are one unit working together.”

“Do you use your hands…. Or something else?”

“Oh, hands! Yes! But anything works really! Whatever Kacchan is comfortable with and needs at the time. Black Whip, combo moves, an iron grip...”

The host furrow his brows and seems to be considering Izuku’s answer before he opens his mouth again. “Uhm, never mind.” He then turns to the camera, smile back on. “Our time is almost running out! Thank you, hero Deku for your time! We look forward to seeing you again in the big screen!”

The next day, Izuku wakes up to the headline: Hero Deku And His Mysterious Busty New Girlfriend: The Beautiful and Spunky Kacchan!

He’s doomed

He sees Kacchan early the next day.

Having spent the morning talking to tabloids and the host show agents about the misunderstanding and whether or not it was possible to take down the episode at least, Izuku slumps his head on his desk in defeat.

Oh, this is very bad.

He starts thumping his forehead on the wood in sync with the bleeps noises in the phone, already planning his funeral in his head.

Okay, so it seems the suspense around this girlfriend is raking up his popularity, but god, at what cost.

“Nerd, we need to talk.”

Izuku’s soul near flies to the roof at the sound of the door to his office slamming close. Fuckfuckfuck.

Kacchan stands before him with his hand on his hip, teeth snarled and looking ready to tear his flesh open. Oh, this is going to be fun!

After flashing a haughty glare at the glass door to scare away the nosy friends hanging about, Kacchan continues, “About the interview.”

Of course! Yes! His final hour is approaching. “Haahahaha, what about it?” Izuku feels his undershirt cling to his torso, sweat collecting on his face. He directs a shaky hand to a nearby chair. “Feel free to take a seat, Kacchan! You want me to get you anything? Water, tissues, uhm, a knife, a body sized bag, or uhhh, a shovel? I think I have some spare sheets of paper if you’d like to give me a chance to—“

“So…” Kacchan starts.

“PLEASE TELL MY MUM I LOVE HER!”

“…this Kacchan, huh?” Having completely ignored every single word Izuku just said, Kacchan crosses his arms and scowls. “Is she strong? How come I never heard about her before? Since when did you start dating this gravure idol and pro hero, huh?”

“Wha—?”

“So, you just go around giving everyone pretty nicknames now?” Kacchan snorts and his expression darkens before he slams his hands on Izuku’s desk. He looks at Izuku from under his chin, and Izuku swear he can see flames behind his eyes. He growls, “What’s her actual name?”

An alarm bell rings in Izuku’s ears and he stutters, “Ka— Ka— Kat— Katsuko! Bakugan Katsuko…….”

Kacchan’s expression doesn’t change and Izuku feels his heart leap to his throat. God, Kacchan is gonna call his bluff at any minute now. He’s going to reject him then he’s going to break his heart and his bones.

“What’s she like?”

Kacchan shifts forward slightly and Izuku is just know noticing the ample cleavage in clear view. Right there. In front of Izuku’s face. “Uhm. Ah, she’s very, ugh, im- pec— impeccable!! And strong! Muscl— mature!! Breasty too – I mean, pretty! PRETTY!” Izuku bites his tongue then swallows thickly. “Beautiful, actually!” Lifting his gaze to meet Kacchan, he whispers, “Gorgeous. Just the most amazing person in my life.”

Kacchan is staring intently with his sharp red eyes, and Izuku feels his chest swell with confidence he never had before. “Kacchan is my inspiration, and I just … love … Kacchan so much. I wish I had the courage to tell him— um, her that.”

“Are you two serious?” Kacchan asks, impassive but there is silent rage hiding behind his words.

Something flashes quickly through Kacchan’s eyes before he narrows them. It takes Izuku a second to recognise that it’s /hurt/ and then he realise what he has just done.

“No, no, no!” Izuku backtracks immediately. “I don’t even know her that well! In fact, she kinda smells and definitely has sweating problem.” Izuku needs to do damage control and come clean NOW. “You know what? I will call her and break up with her right now. Ha ha ha.”

What the hell is he saying? Who is he going to call?

Kacchan stands up while Izuku fumbles with his phone. “Don’t be a dick,” he says, before he heads to the door.

Izuku jumps from his chair and is ready to chase after him when Kacchan stops him. “How big?”

“Huh?”

“You said Bakugan was big.”

Ah, yes, he did. Tragically.

“Um, y’know just…” Izuku motions with his hands like he’s moulding two doughballs, palms up and fingers wiggling because he’s lost control of his life once he accepted his funeral date, but that’s not even happening anymore so what is he doing really.

He then makes am hourglass shape in the air and belatedly realises that he’s just outlining Kacchan’s shape in front of him. Izuku retreats his hands and puts them behind his back in shame.

Kacchan is looking at him funny. Like he’s trying to figure something out.

“Does she shoot aerial bomb or something? Is that a combat-style quirk?”

Izuku blinks.

Kacchan just sneers and turns around.

“Whatever. I’m doing a photoshoot this afternoon. The Sekushī clothing line is dropping a new summer set and they asked me to model.”

“Se- Sekushi?? You mean, like—” Izuku feels his face go impossibly red. “You’re saying that, you’re going to wear, like…..” his voice goes down to a whisper when he says “…..a b-b-b-b-b-bikini?”

“Swimwear,” Kacchan turns to say over his shoulder, “Among other things.”

The sexy smirk he sends Izuku’s way is doing very, very weird things to Izuku’s body and imagination, things too inappropriate to describe in a work setting.

Kacchan leaves but not without offering the most dangerous challenge to Izuku’s mental wellbeing. “Feel free to drop in.”

Oh, he absolutely will.

“Bring Bakugon.”

Oh, he absolutely will not.

Actually….

Maybe, he will.

Kacchan is going to ruin Izuku

#dekubaku #dkbk #bakudeku #bkdk #bnha #mha #boku no hero fic #boku no hero academia #my hero fanfic #my hero academia #izuku midoriya #midoriya izuku #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #prompt fill #icewrites

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atsushigre · 4 years ago

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night terrors III

pairing: dabi x reader

summary: comfort is a two way street; he has a nightmare and you come to his rescue

wc: 3117

warnings: reader briefly gets choked and not in the kinky way (but not intentionally in the abusive way either if that makes any sense), potential manga spoilers for dabi!!

a/n: AHHHH it’s finally done!! cannot believe this is my longest piece yet LMAO if i’d kept it all one part like i had intended it would have been stupid long so. here we are!! hope y’all enjoy and reblogs are appreciated (and i’ll try and be back with more stuff soon!!)

part i / part ii

the third time you really see him is maybe the most shocking of all (though if you’re serious with yourself, you really should have seen this coming).

the mission had gone bad in every conceivable way, and you couldn’t say you were necessarily surprised. all signs had pointed to things going horribly awry, and yet you had volunteered your expertise regardless, and dabi had been quick to follow (though he maintained that same air of disinterest despite himself). but, even with your best efforts the mission had fallen to pieces and the two of you had barely managed a (fairly) safe retreat- he had gotten pretty badly wounded but all things considered, it could have gone far worse.

barely holding yourself together as you escaped, you quickly tried to assess the situation, and soon realized that in the state he was in dabi wouldn’t make it back to where you were stationed fast enough. seemingly coming to the same conclusion, he had reluctantly directed you to help him to a place he had, some safehouse or abandoned apartment he kept when he spent time away from the league, and you had done your best to keep him conscious and drag him along with you as discreet as possible; the last thing either of you needed was for the heroes to have caught you in the state you were in - you wouldn’t have stood a chance.

and here is where you find yourself, in the bathroom of an abandoned apartment, rifling through the near barren medicine cabinet for supplies to dress wounds as your partner in this mission bleeds out on the dusty couch. scooping up a variety of medical supplies (including a staple gun, though hopefully you wouldn’t have to use it - you may be handy but you were by no means qualified to be adding more staples to that man) and rushing out into the living room, you quickly dumped the supplies on the floor before rushing to the (similarly barren) kitchen, looking for any sort of alcohol for disinfecting. snatching the half-empty bottle of vodka, you came back down to crouch in front of the man and get to work. he hadn’t said much of anything since you’d unceremoniously dumped him on the couch and began your search, but those same electric eyes had tracked your movement throughout the apartment, pain clouding them as he grits his teeth.

you set to work dressing his wounds, hoping and praying that your minimal first aid experience would be passable enough that he would survive the night and be able to see a real doctor (one that had undoubtedly been paid or strong-armed by the league, of course) in the morning. every once in a while he would seem to make a move, almost as if he intended to take over for you and patch himself up, but between the energy he had expended earlier that evening and your quiet soothing, every time he seemed to concede, sinking deeper into the ratty couch cushions and allowing you to continue your work in (mostly) silence. he barely had the energy for remarks, only able to summon a deep hum in affirmation when you would periodically ask him if he was awake.

you pull back just a bit to admire your finished handiwork before looking up to meet his gaze, half-lidded eyes still watching you in silence. you can practically see the fatigue pulling at him at that moment but he musters up his last dregs of energy to straighten his slumped form on the couch, groaning in pain as he does so. you quickly lean forward, hands securing themselves on his shoulders as you crouch down to eye level.

“i’m gonna move you to the bed, okay? can i?” your eyes search his for an answer, and as you hear him grunt and seem to nod his head, you begin to lean his weight onto yourself as you maneuver him into the bedroom. you busy yourself getting him set in bed, acutely feeling the weight of his exhausted eyes on you as you make your way out of the bedroom once he’s settled, pausing in the doorway to give him one last once over.

“call for me if you need anything,” you sigh, and you hear the sarcastic snort as he faces his head away for you, eyes sliding shut as you linger in the doorway a moment longer. hesitantly you creep back to the living room, setting yourself down on the couch and dropping your head into your hands, waves of exhaustion rolling over you as the adrenaline of the evening seeps out of your system, and its as you run your hands exasperatedly over your face that you are met with the massive bloodstain covering the couch, where you’d intended to sleep this evening. a sigh leaves you as you set to work using the remaining (mostly) unstained cushions to form a makeshift bed of sorts before allowing the exhaustion of the day to settle over you like a blanket.

it’s less than two hours later when you’re woken with a start to the familiar sounds of a nightmare; however, this time, they’re not coming from you. no, instead, you can hear the distressed noises echoing off the walls and emanating from the bedroom, and panic grips your heart as you try and orient yourself, scrambling up off your makeshift bed and over to the doorway.

he’s thrashing around in the sheets, panicked gasps coming out of his lungs, and you can see his face screwed up in an expression of terror before he thrashes once more, facing away from you. scarred hands are fisted in the sheets, and you can hear the sizzling of what you can only assume is his flesh as his temperature begins to rise. you can almost hear him starting to mumble under his breath before the mumbles get louder and he begins to frantically shout. you’re practically paralyzed, standing in the doorway mouth agape as you take him in before something snaps in you and you quickly close the distance.

bracing yourself as you begin to shake his shoulders, you feel his form shuddering under you as he’s gasping for air. you shout his name as you try and still him before he can further disrupt your shoddy stitch work, but nothing could have prepared you for what came next.

electric eyes shoot open and meet yours, wild and feral as he launches himself forward, toppling off the bed with you as the room erupts in blue flame. one scarred hand is wrapped tightly around your throat, fingers digging into your skin as you feel the heat of his fire coalescing in his palm, and the other is reared back in a threatening pose, cobalt flames licking at his skin and casting their sickly glow over the dingy bedroom. his eyes are cloudy and wild, like a feral animal as he keeps you pinned to the floor, chest heaving with exertion, and as you struggle to claw your way out of his vice grip around your neck you barely see the fire growing dimmer as he comes to his senses.

“dabi,” you choke out, prying his fingers away from your throat, and it’s as if your raspy voice breaks the spell that had fallen over him as he scrambles off of you, blue flames extinguishing and leaving nothing more than the faint sound of sizzling in their wake. the room is dark, almost pitch black, besides the faint glow of city lights peeking from behind the curtains, and you take a long moment of pause, gaze glued to the floor as you gently run your fingers over the bruises you don’t doubt are already forming around your throat. you finally manage to lift your gaze, only to find him recoiled up against the wall, clutching the hand that was moments ago choking you out close to his chest, wild eyes flitting around and occasionally risking a glance in your direction.

it’s almost funny, in that tragic way; you know very little about the fractured man before you, nothing of his life before the league and barely anything even now that he is with you. he makes a point to dance around pointed questions (not that you were brazen enough to ask any) and keeps everything besides burning ambition locked inside of him, hidden away and detached from his person. but now you can almost see his edges fraying, that tightly wound façade unraveling, and in that minute he just looks very small and very sad, huddled up like a feral animal backed into a corner. he looks almost like a child; alone and afraid and unsure. you know logically you should turn your back and leave him, especially after what just transpired between you, but between the way he’s looking right now and the phantom feeling of a hand carding through your hair that threatens to overwhelm you, you feel your resolve cracking as you clear your throat.

his gaze jumps up to meet yours, eyes so wide the scarred skin around them is pulling on his staples, and you draw a deep breath in before reaching out a shaky hand, crawling slowly towards him. he flinches backward, and you watch as his eyes linger on the angry markings left around your throat as you hesitantly continue your approach.

“you uh. you had a nightmare. but it’s just me okay? you’re safe; we’re at your safe house.” you speak gently as you crawl right up to him, slowly moving to place your hand on one of his drawn in knees, and when he shows no signs of lashing out you close the last bit of distance, shaky hand resting lightly on the fabric of his pants as you patiently wait for any sort of response. you can feel how tense he holds himself, how tightly wound he is, and in the position he’s pulled himself into it’s impossible for you to get a good look at his abdomen; you’d have to assume that in the struggle he’d done something to disrupt your subpar sutures, and you couldn’t in good faith let him bleed out on the floor in a state like this. it seems like you’re going to have to push a little harder to get any sort of response out of him, shock setting into his bones as his vacant eyes fixate on where your hand meets his form.

“i don’t know what you saw, and you don’t have to tell me- i don’t want you to tell me anything, okay? all i wanna do is help you right now; so, can you help me help you? is that okay?” your gentle whispers fill the air, and you can see some of the tension melting from his shoulders as his ragged breathing steadies, and that clouded look in his eyes seems to dissolve under the soothing tone of your speech. your thumb rubs gentle circles on his knee, and after a few long minutes of near-perfect silence, you can hear his bones begin to crack as he slowly unfurls himself, allowing you access to his injury. you quickly assess the damages, sighing in relief when you see they’re minimal, and look up to see him staring down at you while you work, eyes swirling with an undecipherable blend of emotions before he angles his head away.

you know he feels guilty for what transpired; you can feel it rolling off of him in waves, see it in the way his eyes keep finding their way to the marks blossoming on your skin, sense it in the way he flinches away from your touch, almost sitting on his hands so as to not let them come in contact with you again. you can practically hear the apology in the air, but the little you know about him tells you he’d never manage to choke it out, and so you rise and busy yourself with the bed, resetting the cushions and fluffing the pillows before you cross back to crouch in front of him again, hand extended with confidence this time.

he stares blankly at your extended hand for a long moment before looking up and almost past you, eyes still sparkling with fragments of fear, and a gentle smile creeps across your face as you let out a soft hum.

“let’s get you to bed, okay?” reaching down you grasp his hand in yours, pretending not to notice the way he jumps slightly at the contact before you gingerly pull him up, resting his weight on your frame before getting him settled under the covers once again. you pull the blankets up to cover him before you hesitate for a moment, locking eyes with him again, and it’s almost as if something possesses you as you reach forward to smooth his hair back and away from his forehead. his eyes widen in surprise, and you can’t help the gentle smile that creeps onto your lips before you pull away, lingering in the doorway and casting one last look over your shoulder.

huddled under the covers, fully and properly exhausted as he comes down off of the fear-induced adrenaline spike of moments ago, it strikes you again just how small he looks; if you were really being honest with yourself, fragile was the word for it. a man held together by staples, body and soul, tormented by what you can only assume are ghosts of his past.

maybe that’s why you linger in the doorway longer than you should. maybe that’s why instead of shutting the door behind you, you step back inside before gently pulling it shut, creeping back over to the bed and crawling up and on top of the covers. those same eyes track your movement, and you can almost feel him going to ask why you’re doing this as you push yourself up against the headboard and angle yourself towards him, gently carding your hand through his hair. you feel his questioning gaze before you hear the involuntary exhale of relief.

“this is so you’ll go back to sleep, so hurry up and close your eyes already. i don’t have all night.” you managed to make it through the whole sentence before you softly giggle, recalling the flipped scenario no less than a few weeks ago, and you feel him still below you before sighing and shifting his head into your lap, relaxing fully under the feeling of your hand smoothing over his hair. it seems that after the evening’s events, he’s simply too tired to keep up pretenses, melting under your gentle touch, and you can feel a small smile stretch over his face, staples grazing over your thigh where his face is angled into your lap. you think you hear a muttered thanks, and though you weren’t quite sure you wouldn’t dare ask him to repeat it, pleased enough at the prospect of a thank you in the first place.

you’re up for an extra hour, watching the man melt under the repeated caresses and allow sleep to take him (peacefully, this time), before that same exhaustion comes creeping back and sleep comes for you as well.

you wake as the late afternoon sun creeps through the ratty curtains, full-body exhaustion threatening to draw you back to sleep but the nagging urge to get dabi checked by a doctor pulling you back to consciousness. during the night you’d shifted, laying down against the bed, and a blanket previously nowhere to be found had been tucked over you. you push yourself up as you notice you’re sleeping in an empty bed, and as you tighten the blanket around your shoulders and hurry back into the living room, you can’t help the sigh of relief you let out when you see dabi standing in the barren kitchen rifling through a shopping bag.

“you scared me.” leaning up against the counter next to him, you can’t help the small grin that stretches across your face as he produces a steaming mug of tea, gesturing for you to drink before he draws his own to his lips. warmth bubbles up in your chest, doubled as you take slow sips of the tea, and you spare a few glances down at his torso, trying to catch a glimpse of his injury.

“we should go see the doctor,” you sigh, head tipped back, and he makes what you can only interpret as a dismissive noise as he rifles through the shopping bag again before producing a mound of fabric, lazily outstretching it towards you as he gazes out the window and sips on his own tea. you gingerly take it from him and unravel it, coming face to face with a soft black scarf, and you can feel your face heat up as your grin grows wider.

“here. wear this,” he drawls, and you can practically feel the apology stitched into the soft fabric as you wind it around your neck, covering the marks of yesterday. you can see his posture loosen once you finish and turn to him, taking a moment to show off, and a low chuckle and a wolf whistle fills the air as you strike an objectively ridiculous pose.

“lookin good,” he scoffs, eyebrow quirked and smirk tugging at his lips, before he gathers his things and unceremoniously dumps them back in his bag. he moves for the door, gesturing for you to follow, and something in you has you reaching out and catching his arm, fingers gripping onto his coat sleeve.

“we aren’t talking about it after this, i promise, but i get it, okay? i get it. so thanks for what you do for me, and i hope i can keep doing the same for you.”

“i thought i told you not to mention it,” you hear him say, and before you can quickly rush to drop an apology you notice the small smile on his face, and that now-familiar warmth bubbles up inside of you again.

“you’re right. my bad; won’t happen again,” you grin, brushing past him to lead the way. you hear him scoff once more before following quickly behind, and you know deep inside you that you’ve come to cherish this rather unconventional arrangement the two of you have found yourself in. despite yourself, you can’t help but quietly wish for more opportunities to support and be supported like this; after all, you enjoy it far more than you’d be willing to admit. for as long as the two of you have night terrors, you hope the other will be there to pick up the pieces, night after night.

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yeah-klave · 4 years ago

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Jungle Dreams

Written, with love, for EnKlave Fest 2021.

Prompt: Sneaking away into the jungle.

Genre: Smut, with a side of fluff.

Word length: 2.1k.

Warning: Explicit sexual content (18+ only, please).

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of The Umbrella Academy characters or settings.

****************************************************************

Finally out of sight and earshot of the camp, they stumbled through the undergrowth, laughing and kissing and fumbling, hands blindly pulling at clothes in their haste. Dave gently pushed Klaus against the trunk of a tree and attached his lips to Klaus’ neck.

“I didn’t think we’d ever get chance to sneak away!” Klaus gasped, tipping his head back and frantically grasping at Dave’s shoulders.

“Dramatic,” Dave breathed heavily, his lips pressing kisses along Klaus’ jawline. He took the lobe of Klaus’ ear into his mouth and sucked hard. Klaus shivered and Dave grinned, grazing his teeth along the flesh before giving it a sharp nip.

Klaus gasped and clutched at Dave, raking his fingernails through Dave’s gloriously mussed curls.

“It’s been three days, Dave,” he whined. “Three whole days. I’m practically dying here. Dying of blue balls.”

Dave huffed a laugh. “What a tragically fitting end for Vietnam’s biggest drama queen.”

He sucked a kiss into Klaus’ skin, just below the line of his collar.

“Oh, Daaa-vuh,” Klaus moaned, clawing desperately at Dave’s back. “Please can you stop being funny and charming for one second and just fuck me already?!”

Dave grinned and caught Klaus’ eye. “Certainly, your highness,” he added with a quirk of his eyebrow.

Klaus rolled his eyes, but hurriedly turned in Dave’s arms, his hands scrambling to unbuckle his pants. With a flourish, he let them drop around his ankles. Then he leaned forwards slightly, holding on to the tree trunk for support. He looked back at Dave over his shoulder and pointedly spread his legs.

Dave grinned again, leaning his head to one side and taking in the view.

Klaus huffed, his eyebrows comically crinkling together in an adorable frown.

Dave moved forwards and reverently ran his hands over the pale skin of Klaus’ ass. He gave the right cheek a proprietary little squeeze, then gave it a light slap, watching the glorious jiggle of the flesh.

“Please hurry up,” Klaus sighed, his eyes huge and beseeching.

Finally, Dave acquiesced. He couldn’t deny those eyes anything.

He dug into the deep pocket of his pants and drew out the little jar of lube. He coated his fingers, then ran the tip of one around the rim of Klaus’ hole, before gently pushing inside.

Klaus let out a deep sigh and rested his forehead against the arm he had propped against the tree.

Just as Klaus had taught him, Dave began moving his finger, methodically pressing and stretching. He pulled his finger out, stacked his index finger over his middle finger and then placed them at Klaus’ entrance, only the very tips inside.

“Squeeze, please,” he said, and Klaus sighed, but then clenched obediently around Dave’s fingertips.

“And relax,” Dave instructed after a moment. Klaus relaxed his muscles and Dave watched in admiration as both his fingers easily sank another inch inside Klaus’ body.

“I love watching you suck me inside like that,” Dave said in awe.

“Daaave,” Klaus whined, “come on.”

Dave eased his fingers the rest of the way inside and started scissoring them, gently stretching Klaus’ entrance further. Klaus let out a low moan.

“You don’t have to be so… thorough.” Klaus wheedled. “I have done this a few times before, you know. I’m good to go!”

“Or,” Dave said patiently, “we could just enjoy this bit before racing on to the next part.” He ran his other hand down the gentle curve of Klaus’ spine, ending by giving his left ass-cheek an affectionate squeeze.

“God, Klaus, I love your ass.” Dave brought his other hand around to Klaus’ front, took hold of his dick and gave it a couple of gentle tugs. “Among other things.”

Klaus moaned wantonly and spread his legs further.

Dave smiled and curled the fingers of his other hand and Klaus let out a desperate gasp.

“Please.” Klaus said shakily. “Please, Dave. I need you inside me. Now. Before they start to wonder where we are and come looking.” He swallowed thickly. “Please, Dave. I need this.”

His voice was as breathy and light as usual, but Dave could hear the undercurrent of real urgency. The genuine desperation that didn’t stem from raw sexual desire, but from the need to connect with someone. To really feel something. While they still had chance.

Dave leaned forwards and pressed a tender kiss to the exposed skin of Klaus’ shoulder, right at the juncture of his neck.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured soothingly in Klaus’ ear, “I’ve got you.”

Klaus gave an involuntary little shiver, but nodded slowly.

“I know you do,” Klaus whispered back.

Dave slowly eased his fingers out of Klaus’ body. He unbuckled his own pants and unceremoniously pulled out his achingly hard cock and quickly slicked it up.

Dave moved behind Klaus. He rand one hand down the curve of Klaus’ spine again, before taking firm hold of Klaus’ hip. Finally, holding the base of his cock with his other hand, he lined up and gently pushed inside Klaus’ body in one deliciously long, slow slide. Then, he stopped. His heartbeat was thudding in his ears and all his nerve endings were on fire. He’d never get used to that feeling. Never. Not if he did this every day for the rest of his life. Completely unparalleled bliss.

Klaus let out a long, low moan.

“Fuuuuucck, yeeeeesssss! Dave! Finally!”

Dave withdrew slowly and Klaus released a breath in a deep, satisfied exhale. Dave took hold of both Klaus’ hips and thrust in again firmly, snapping his hips as he bottomed out. Klaus gasped and his internal muscles contracted sharply around him as Dave’s cock hit that sweet spot deep inside. Dave grunted and gripped Klaus’ hips tighter.

Suddenly, all the frenetic energy from earlier came crashing back and Dave pulled out and thrust forwards again firmly, then started snapping his hips and driving into Klaus in a gloriously intense and deliciously punchy rhythm.

“Fucking finally,” Dave heard Klaus exhale between grunts of pleasure.

Below him, Dave could hear Klaus chanting his name between desperate little moans and uninhibited grunts. Dave felt a warm glow start deep in his chest, Klaus’ obvious pleasure urging him on.

Dave found his rhythm and soon lost himself to the indescribable feeling of fucking Klaus. The tight, wet slide… the sound of Klaus’ desperate panting moans and punched out grunts of pleasure… the obscene slap of skin on skin… the delicate, warm weight of Klaus’ hips under his palms… chasing his desire… succumbing to this primal need… the rough pleasure of engaging in something so base and animalistic… pure carnal instinct driving his hips forwards… sinking himself inside his partner… claiming and taking and pleasuring and pleasing and thrusting and thrusting and thrusting.

“Dave!” He heard Klaus cry urgently. He swallowed and tried again. “Fuck, Dave,” Klaus said more urgently, “I’m close.”

Without loosing his rhythm, Dave brought one hand around and started jerking Klaus’ cock in time with his own thrusts.

Klaus keened. The pitch of his voice changed. His moans became higher and he released little abortive wails on every thrust. He sounded breathless and desperate. His legs started trembling and distantly Dave was aware Klaus’ knuckles had gone white where he held onto the tree trunk for support.

Dave grunted and increased the pace of his hips, the muscles in his powerful legs tensing and straining.

“Dave!” Klaus sobbed and then, suddenly, Dave felt him tense and then the world held its breath for a second. And then Klaus released the breath he’d been holding in a long shaking exhale as his body began contracting rhythmically around Dave and his cock pulsed and twitched as he ejaculated thickly onto the jungle floor.

And then Dave’s entire word narrowed to the glorious pressure building between his legs and the roaring in his ears and the sound of Klaus’ moans and the feeling of Klaus cumming on his cock and, finally, Dave let go and fucked his release deep inside his partner in heady waves of crashing pleasure, grunting and moaning and sweating and cursing.

And then he was done. Dave felt all his muscles relax and he slumped forwards slightly over Klaus, trying to catch his breath. Klaus’ knees buckled. But, on instinct, Dave caught him and held him up firmly with one large, strong arm around his tiny waist. He planted the other against the tree trunk, anchoring them and keeping them both upright. Dave nuzzled into the soft, warm space behind Klaus’ ear, then peppered kisses down his neck and across his shoulder, licking a soothing stripe over the mark he’d sucked into Klaus’ neck earlier.

“Was that what you needed, baby?” Dave asked quietly.

“Yeah,” Klaus replied throatily. Still slumped bonelessly against the tree, barely holding himself upright save for Dave’s strong arm holding him firm. Klaus turned his head and blindly sought Dave’s lips.

Dave leaned forwards and kissed him. It was wonky and off-centre and wonderful.

Slowly, Dave pulled his softening cock out of Klaus’s body. Klaus sighed and his hole gave a delicate flutter. Dave watched a thick bead of cum ooze out and dribble thickly down the inside of Klaus’ thigh.

Dave dug a hand into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief and gently cleaned the sticky mess from Klaus’ skin. He ducked down and carefully helped Klaus pull up his pants and fasten them again, then, finally, tucked himself away, refastened his own pants and snapped his belt back into place.

Leaning back against the tree, Klaus watched him fondly through half-lidded bedroom eyes, absently trailing his fingers down his neck to press lightly against the spot of darker skin. The shadow of a lost kiss.

Inches apart, Dave looked at Klaus and the satisfied expression that softened his features and gave him a radiant glow of happiness. And, once again, Dave was overcome with a wave of pure affection. He reached out and tenderly cupped Klaus’ cheek in one large, soft palm, his thumb gently rubbing the delicate skin at the corner of Klaus’ eye. Klaus blinked slowly and looked back at Dave, the expression in his eyes unmistakable.

“One day,” Dave said simply, “I’d like us to do that in a proper bed.”

“We will,” Klaus said quietly.

Dave gazed deep into Klaus eyes and was filled with the almost overwhelming urge to pour all of himself inside this man – not just his sticky, orgasmic release, but his whole heart as well.

“I want to lay you down and kiss every inch of you” Dave said reverently. “I want us to take our time. We could take all night if we wanted. And then, I want to hold you afterwards, until you fall asleep in my arms. I want to wake up the next morning to your hair in my face and your ridiculously cold feet pressed against my legs. I want all your sleepy grumbling and your morning-breath kisses. And then I want to make love to you again, in a pool of early morning light, while you’re all groggy and warm and loose-limbed and peaceful.”

“I want that too,” Klaus said, looking wistfully back into Dave’s kind, sincere eyes. “Well, we are due R&R in a few weeks…” he trailed off suggestively, his eyes scanning Dave’s face and the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile.

“The thing is,” Dave said quietly, “I don’t just want it here and now. Not just a Vietnam fling. I want it every day. Every. Single. Day. For the rest of my life.” He paused, took a deep breath and added, “I want you forever, Klaus.”

Klaus swallowed hard and took a deep shuddering breath. “Me too,” he said hoarsely. He pulled Dave’s face towards him and pressed their foreheads together and held him there, just breathing the same air. “We’ll make it work,” Klaus murmured into the space between them. “Somehow, Dave, we’ll make it work. That’s a promise.”

“Don’t,” Dave replied sadly. “You can’t promise that.”

“I just did,” Klaus said stubbornly. “And you better believe I’m not going to let the universe make a liar out of me about this. God might have written me off, but nobody should ever underestimate my selfish streak.”

Dave huffed a laugh and held him tighter. They stood quietly, just relishing the moment of peace and closeness.

“We should get back.” Dave said finally.

“Yeah, we should.” Klaus grudgingly agreed.

But neither of them made any attempt to move.

They just held on to each other and shut the world out and pretended prejudices didn’t exist and that the war was happening somewhere else to some other people.

Instead, they ran gentle hands over warm flesh and slowly kissed in a dappled green, enchanted bubble of hope and love and jungle dreams.

#klave #klaus hargreeves #dave katz #the umbrella academy #klaus/dave #klaus x dave #enklave

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ashes-in-a-jar · 5 years ago

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Tma relisten Episodes 11-15

So this round already has two other posts out of it about Oliver because he Bae.

These have alot of ideas regarding entities changing around reality, controlling non victims to set the stage, and turning around what people love most to their worst fear. Also insane abilities of the crew to obtain hard to access info and evidence! And some more Jon sass. Enjoy!

11 dreamer

Wow this episode had alot. I made a separate post with a theory about Oliver's statement here and a realization regarding him and Jane Prentiss here. They are alot to unpack

Oliver is so. Freaking. Relatable! Learned economics and hated it. Nearly had a breakdown like him because of it. "going to stay with some of the few friends that had survived my year of stress-fuelled outbursts and constantly cancelled plans." yep. That.

Boyfriend Graham ey? You notebook eating Graham?? Wow that guy is full of surprises.

I love the dream sequences and their descriptions it's a really beautiful thing to try and picture.

Its interesting how he went from passive to desparate to passive again about death. He tries but can't help. I wonder when the dreams started to bother him so much he sought after the silence of point Nemo. Was it when they became so full of red because of the apocalypse coming closer? Hmmm

Another person named John. I guess that makes sense it's a common name. But I forgot how many people are fully named in this podcast. Hundreds of names to come up with! Jonny I'm quite impressed!

He worked with Jane Prentiss in the magic shop! I can't believe I forgot about that! Wow small avatar world indeed.

"It led me to a room, the label of which was still visible, and read “Archive”. I entered to see walls covered with shelves and cabinets stretching off into the distance. These shelves were coated in a sticky black tar, which I knew at that moment was the thickened, pulpy blood that pumped through each and every one of those veins." everything that has to do with the Fears I bet. Full of death and destruction and stolen from the veins to be out on display for the Eye's pleasure.

Yo Jon is scared of this he's seriously considering going to Elias for advice

" I had Tim look into it, as I don’t entirely trust the others not to have written it as a practical joke" wait. He trusts TIM? Not to do a practical joke? How. Why. Eh?

"died in the line of duty" fuck you Jonah.

Now Jon will get every new statement immediately when it's made. Perhaps this was Elias' intention all along. To scare him into making sure he does not miss any paranormal activity recorded by the institute.

12 first aid

I'm not immune to more Gerry badassery, hell yeah

And we get polish Martin which hell yeah! Even if Jon doesn't believe it. I'm sure he's repressing the fact that he's thoroughly impressed.

I think it's really interesting the effect entities have on people who are decidedly not their victims. Everyone leaving no questions so the entity can set the scene for the scare. Like with Gillespie how no one lived in the apartment building he was in etc. Alot of work into a handful of people being genuinely scared.

Gerry's burns stopped at the neck? How did he manage that. Also it's hilarious to imagine that he's like "yes burn all of me but please. not my goth makeup"

Zippo lighter with eye design!! And Jon has web design! They are brothers (joke but still really interesting)

Liquids were boiling around her and she didn't feel the heat. Also an interesting effect just for the scare.

Gerry got eye superpowers like Jon if he can function while injure and filled with painkillers.

“Yes. For you, better beholding than the lightless flame.” Gerry knew she'd be haunted by a Fear from that day on and realised that perhaps being watched would be easier for her specifically to deal with than the Desolation. I guess that's a way of assessing people. Which fear would least bother you.

Jon is already enamoured with Gerry you can tell. He can't wait to hear more from him. Just you wait Jon.

They really can access alot of information huh. CCTV Interviews files. Pretty impressive for a non-research team. They're so good at it they'd rather do that than actual archiving.

13 alone

The sound editing in this episode is not that great it was a bit to get used to.

We get a glimpse at the Lukases which is... Ugh

Jon is actually trying to be nice. Granted it's not working and she is a bit of a standoffish person herself who just went through a bad time but alot of her reactions are not his fault. He was trying to be considerate giving her space to record but he did stay when she asked.

She had already leaned into the Lonely before the incident it's interesting to see how some of these statements start with a person actually liking the aspect that later turns to fear. Same happens in lost johns' cave.

Evan Lukas sounds like an avatar of the exact opposite of the Lonely. At least to her. That's a really interesting effect from someone, especially a Lukas.

But maybe dying wasn't his family killing him but him not feeding his patron which he tried to leave. Really tragic.

She was in Martin's domain eyyy!

It's got a bit of buried aspects to it with the grave stuff and all.

"My fingers dug into the soft cemetery dirt as I looked around desperately for anything I could use to save myself, and my hand closed upon that heavy piece of headstone. It took all my self-control to keep a grip on that anchor, as I slowly dragged myself away from the edge of my lonely grave." The headstone was her anchor? But it said forgotten. I wonder how it helped her pull away. It probably had to go together with Evan's voice. Like the rib and the tape recorders having to work together! I just wonder what meaning the stone had for her.

"I’d be tempted to chalk this one up to a hallucination from stress and trauma, if it wasn’t for the fact... " God he does believe her heavens. He's not a skeptic!

This is when Jon's dreams start which... Good luck Jon.

14 piecemeal

Rentoul is terrifying sonofabitch and I would never want to meet him irl

I remembered them talking about how he was supposed to be a person who cursed alot and they couldn't do it because of sensor and I have to agree this could have been much better for the story. I tried imagining curses in some places.

LOL Jon reading this is funny. Trying to voice act the bad boy. Doesn't sound right on his voice.

With these kinds of statements happening alot where the person does something bad, the institute has to be in touch with police over them. The nda has to include that.

Hello Angela! I really wonder what her deal is. She scared the bid bully so she gotta have creepy vibes to the extreme.

Another lighter! Hmm do I have to start following the lighter motiff in this podcast. This one has a topless woman on it. Flesh lighter?

Salesa's also appearing that's cool! Noriega was probably looking for an artifact to reverse the curse. Didn't work tho since they left with the crate. The buried crate perhaps?

I'm wondering. Was this written? Because the statement sounds like he's talking. If so, Where's the recording?

Oh Jon your attitude towards Martin is so bad. He works so hard and it's not even in what he's good at, sorting and filing like he knows how to do from the library. God.

What's the deal with all the furniture gone? Did he think it'll help not get injured? He's not that smart if he thought that would help him.

15 lost Johns' cave

Ack a bad statement she was not a good person all around

Another example of the entities setting the stage by controlling others not to interfere with the victim's experience.

Also another example of the person liking the subject (cave exploration in this case. And the dark for that matter) only for it to turn against them.

Not much to say about this one other than its one of the scarier ones for sure. And her recording in the end is really the cherry on top. There is alot of discrepancy between what she believed happened and what actually did which shows how much the fear plays with and changes around reality. That's also how she manages to lie in a statement to Beholding. It wasn't a lie. It was her version of reality and she did not remember saying those awful words.

Taught me alot about cave diving and how much I will never do it in my life.

The Dark was mixed into this as well so it wasn't purely Buried.

Btw Where did she get the candles she was found with?

It feels like she made a choice. Didn't want to spend her last moments with her sister and then didn't want to die. She chose her sister to be taken over her. Her sister called for help and the candle coming closer might have been her! But she just shut her eyes.

How did Tim gain access to the recording?? Wow that's some prime evidence.

Martin is claustrophobic amongst other things huh? Live how Jon just dismisses this as an excuse not to work. At least he didn't push it.

#tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #Tim stoker #Oliver banks #Tma hiatus liveblog #gerry keay

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eldritch-elrics · 5 years ago

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this summer, me and my brother watched four whole shows. at long last, here is my comprehensive review of all of them!

in the order we watched them, these shows were:

avatar the last airbender (ATLA)

mob psycho 100 (MP100)

demon slayer / kimetsu no yaiba (KNY)

fullmetal alchemist: brotherhood (FMAB)

they were all very very good!

i’m not going to try to rank them, but, as is probably obvious by the state of my blog, my favorite was FMAB :) if i had to pick a least favorite, then, it would probably be KNY—not by any fault of its own, but just because it didn’t appeal to me quite as much as the others. still a very good show!

i will review each show by:

giving a quick plot-based pitch discussing the show’s hook or appeal

discussing one element that i believe it does better than any other show on this list—in other words, a quality that i think it stands out for

discussing one element that didn’t appeal to me or that i had issues with—a criticism

putting forth my favorite character and favorite episode or arc, just for funsies

including various other commentary. mostly positive, as, again, i did really like all of these!

(i’ve tried to make this whole thing free of specific spoilers, but if you’re planning on watching any of these shows and want to go in more-or-less blind, it might be best not to read this.)

first of all, i’d just like to discuss all four of these shows as a whole! it was definitely interesting watching one after another and noting similarities between them.

all of them have siblings in them! which is, perhaps, fitting, as i watched them with my brother

two include a pair of siblings in which one has powers and one doesn’t (at least at first), and part of the narrative involves getting better at using those powers (ATLA, MP100)

two include a narrative centered around a pair of siblings and something tragic that happens to them, resulting in the older one being traumatized and forced to train to become a soldier, and the younger one turning into something (arguably) inhuman. the protagonist’s major goal is to return his younger sibling to the way they were before (KNY, FMAB)

ATLA and FMAB are both fantasy political dramas, which is rapidly becoming a favorite genre of mine

most of these are historical, or historically inspired in some way, which is interesting!

all of these shows are really really good at character building. all the main characters are interesting and complex, and the relationships between those characters are similarly nuanced and very well written. they make you really care about both the protagonists and the side characters!

avatar: the last airbender

pitch: as the ever-growing imperial force of the fire nation threatens the earth and water nations, a kid from the long-lost air nation turns up and it turns out he can control all four elements and he has to save the world and all that. sorry i tried to write this pitch like five times and realized that well at this point i think everyone reading this will know the plot of avatar

stands out for: avatar has possibly the best worldbuilding i have ever seen in a show—it takes the time to introduce us to so many places and aspects of its world, both explicitly and subtly. the main highlight of this is the magic system. by creating a magic system based in body movement, the process of using magic and learning to use/control it better becomes immediately obvious to the viewer. combine that with the philosophy behind each type of bending and the way that characters take bending inspiration from types different than their own, and you’ve got a system that is complex, flexible, believable, internally consistent, and just plain fun! it makes action sequences a blast. i especially liked the moments when bending was stretched to its limits in totally logical ways (metalbending, bloodbending). not to mention the way that bending is seamlessly integrated into the world of avatar! the example that comes to mind is the earthbending-powered transport system of omashu. a whole essay could be written on that topic alone!

criticism: i know this is a sentiment shared by many people, but the first season was kind of boring to me. some of the humor and the plots felt hit-or-miss. of course, it needed to take that time to establish the world, and it does a great job of doing that. it just didn’t hook me until the second season.

favorite character: i love toph she’s so much fun :) iroh is a close second! and zuko is great, too, of course

favorite arc: i loved ba sing se a ton, especially the episode when they get there and everything feels off. it felt so resonant with real life, in a very fun way. there’s a reason “there is no war in ba sing se” is a meme…

other commentary: what can i say? it’s a classic for a damn good reason. the plot is tight, and it does a great job raising tension and introducing new elements and twists. i also love the care put into the antagonists, especially azula, who has a fascinating arc.

mob psycho 100

pitch: a middle schooler and a charismatic con artist team up to smite ghosts using extrasensory powers. thing is, only the middle schooler actually has ESP, and it happens to be really, really powerful. can he navigate the difficult world of middle school while also getting a better grip on his powers—and his bottled-up emotions?

stands out for: the way that MP100 uses animation is excellent. it takes a little getting used to but it’s just so fun, combining all sorts of different techniques to create an experience rich with drama and emotion. it’s playfully exaggerated and self-parodying, adding to the show’s fantastic sense of humor as well as its truly emotional moments.

criticism: the way that ESP works makes suspension of disbelief tricky. it’s a great feat to introduce a character who is essentially all-powerful and still make them interesting (even in fight scenes), but at times (especially the second season finale) it felt like a magic system with too much breadth and too few limitations. this might just be my bias for hard magic systems talking, though.

favorite character: other than mob and reigen? probably teru. he’s loads of fun AND all the season 1 episodes he’s in slap hard

favorite episode: the one where the girl asks mob out on a date as a dare.. it’s super cute

other commentary: thank you mp100 for being the leftist propaganda we all deserve <3

in all seriousness though, this show is a blast!! it does a great job switching between silly and serious in the blink of an eye. i also really appreciate the way that it balances comically huge stakes with much smaller, more personal stories. for example, the conflict between mob and reigen in season 2 is especially well-done. in general the emotions just feel so real? characters whose emotions tie into their powers are an excellent trope, and mob is a wonderful protagonist who exemplifies this really well.

finally, on a more critical note—there are so many characters in this show! and it feels like only a handful are fleshed out? however, this may be due to the fact that it’s not an adaptation of the entire manga (which i haven’t read). there’s a lot more to go! more characters to dive into! so i probably shouldn’t try to critique it in the same way as a finished work.

demon slayer / kimetsu no yaiba

pitch: demons kill a boy’s family and turn his sister into a demon, so he decides to try and figure out a way to turn his sister back into a human. what follows is a demon-killing adventure that’s in equal parts harrowing, poignant, and hilarious.

stands out for: there’s not much i can say about this other than “please just take a look” but the art and design is phenomenal. it does a much better job of integrating 2D and 3D than a lot of other animated series, and overall it is just so so pretty! all the character designs are complex, memorable, and fit the characters perfectly. the color choices are interesting and satisfying. i also really like the sound design? not often that i notice that in a show. i’ve watched so many KNY amvs by now lol it’s just amazing animation

criticism: the narration style leans too heavily towards tell instead of show. this is mostly an issue with the first few episodes, but i got super annoyed by how much the show would narrate every single one of tanjirou’s thoughts instead of letting us infer those thoughts through his actions and reactions—the latter, i think, would have been more emotionally impactful. sometimes silence speaks louder than words! tanjirou was also not the world’s most compelling protagonist in my opinion, though i think that mostly has to do with my own tastes.

favorite character: *holds up zenitsu* I Just Think He’s Neat. i actually kind of lost it when he first used his powers, like… damn i love characters with weird relationships with their magic like that. i also think the narrative about how having a solid foundation is sometimes more important than knowing a ton of different moves was really powerful. and he’s just funny! pathetic boy i love him

favorite arc: really just the whole spider arc. fucked up man… i love it. they pulled off that last twist so well, and all the family stuff was so weird and complex and emotional…

other commentary: it’s just a really solid and very well-written show! the team of tanjirou, zenitsu, and inosuke is so much fun… bro bonding :) i also quite like the horror elements; it’s fucked up but in a good way. finally, this is very specific, but the demon that can alter buildings/rooms through drumbeats? appealed to me very much. it’s a cool and unique power!

fullmetal alchemist: brotherhood

pitch: two kids do some fucked up alchemy and end up getting parts of their body stolen by god. now they’re on a quest to get their bodies back, but find themselves wrapped up in crazy government conspiracies and alchemy more powerful than they ever could’ve imagined…

stands out for: plot. by this i mean less overall concept (though the overall concept is pretty great too), and more that the pacing and progression of the story is extraordinarily tight. for the most part (the first few episodes are a little weak but i’ll let it slide), it does an excellent job establishing its premise and building on it logically, adding layers and layers that extend naturally from what we already know. everything has a reason for happening; everything is revealed in good time and all the twists are super satisfying. there’s great balance between exciting moments and quiet moments. it’s just very good at being a story!

(fun fact: i’m reading the manga right now and so far it’s even better paced than the show, which is super interesting! it’s especially good at how it lays out pieces of the backstory and then fills everything in later in a really satisfying way.)

criticism: this is incredibly specific but it’s what comes to mind as something that bothered me: winry’s character arc was really disappointing. for most of the series she’s a pretty strong character, but in the end it feels like she gets pushed aside, defined only by her relationship with ed. what happened to her wanting to take action more? that was a specific desire she expressed—wanting to be less passive! since she’s such an important character, i wish she could have had more presence in the last season other than as a sounding board for the elric bros’ emotions. (even though her one scene in the last episode was really good and emotional…)

favorite character: other than the elric bros, absolutely ling. he fits into multiple of my favorite character archetypes (fun, silly, bastard, gets possessed…) and he’s just overall a delight. plus his relationship with greed is really really good. bro bonding at its peak!! (my other favorite is pride. i will not say why because spoilers. but if you know me.. you know)

favorite episode: this is really really hard to choose but i’m gonna go with envy’s death because. holy shit.

other commentary: i’m a really big fan of the complex and nuanced way in which FMAB breaks down militaristic, imperial regimes from the inside. many of the characters have done awful things, and the story forces them to grapple with that and accept that all they can do now is be better in the future. the moral complexity is just really good! characters with flaws—we love to see it!

finally, parts of this story seem so so catered to Me Specifically that it’s no wonder i got so into it. like just the entire premise? the way that so much of the conflict is built out of identity crisis and exploring the nature of consciousness and human vs inhuman? beautiful. i love ed and al so much

if you made it all the way to the end, thank you so much for reading!! glad to have finally gotten this done (3 months late…) and put all my thoughts down. i hope this inspires someone to try watching one of the shows i discussed!

#avatar the last airbender #mob psycho 100 #kimetsu no yaiba #fullmetal alchemist #my post #long post #then for my own tagging purposes..#atla #mp100 #kny #fmab #i really hope some people read this! i put a lot of thought into it

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kazbrkker · 5 years ago

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Chapter 6: Distant Reminders

Chapter summary: Finally a glimpse of the day Farah, Hadir and Alexis met, told from both perspectives. Some fluff between Alexis and Alex. Slight confession (blink and you miss it.) [3870 words]

Warnings: pretty dark chapter – please be careful. Mentions of wounds, burns and blood. Implied mentions of sexual assault.

27 October 2019, 0600 "Alexis" & "Alex" | Codename Aces CIA agents with Urzik militia Liberation Force Base, Urzikstan.

Truth be told, Urzikstan was starting to grow on the CIA agent. Used to working in much less hostile environments than this, Alexis figured it would take time before she could adapt. But between the constantly rowdy, yet lively compound and the unpolluted Urzikstan night sky that smiled down at her—it wasn't difficult for Urzikstan to imprint on her.

It was 6 on the clock when she awoke, a wired response. Judging from the unslept sleeping bag, Alex was still on lookout duty. Five minutes later, he entered the room.

"Wow, cute bed hair."

"Morning to you too." Alexis ignored his sarcasm, starting to roll her sleeping bag but halted at Alex's request—questionably saying hers was more comfortable. "They're the exact same," She deadpanned.

"Fine, I like your smell. Consider me obsessed." Alex lazily pulled his shirt over his head and grabbed his towel. Her laughter was airy among the morning stillness.

"Dial the creepiness to a min, 'kay?"

They walked to the makeshift showers that Farah had shown them—grimy and borderline filthy but they couldn't be bothered, instead, grateful that showers were even a possibility. Alex stepped one foot in when Alexis opened her bathroom door, "Quick proposition, wanna save some water?"

Alex dramatically clasped a hand on his chest at her vexed jab.

"What? It's our part to save the Earth, isn't it?" His voice lowered to a whisper, as if he was sharing the best-kept secret. Their foreheads were practically touching, his breath fanning on her cheeks. Their height difference made Alex peer down at her, thumb boldly rubbing across her cheekbones. "I'm just offering, I take my responsibility very seriously."

"Mm. I bet. Just get your ass in the shower." Back against the bathroom door, Alexis chuckled at how ridiculous he was, but it was a normalcy she got used to. Even at 6 in the dead morning, there was already an irrepressible smirk on display. The warmth that radiated off his bare torso did nothing but intensified her need for a freezing shower. He didn't even budge under her shove.

"Ooh. Grumpypants."

Rolling her eyes, she briefly glanced at the muscular arms that encaged her, silently tracing the intricacy of his tattoo sleeves, "Can I leave now?"

"Sure, excuse me then." He gripped onto her hips as though squeezing through a narrowed pathway—except it wasn't, there was plenty of room. All he had to do was release her.

It was pointless to try and ignore the heat of his touch, her thin cotton t-shirt could only do so much.

Alex stepped away, chuckling knowingly. She almost felt cold. A flustered Alexis stood rooted for a few seconds before rapidly blinking, breaking the... whatever this was. "I hope the water doesn't run out when you have shampoo in your eyes!" She shook the feeling out of her system, harshly biting her lip to reprimand herself.

'Jesus. Drag your mind out of the gutter, will you?' Although the devil on her shoulder tempted her with an exhilarating idea. Alexis swung the door shut with a bang, hopefully, loud enough to scare those thoughts away.

She heard his muffled yells from outside. "Point taken, you're a devious thing, aren't you!"

After a much needed shower, she found her partner back in their room. His hands tucked behind his head, droopy eyelids signified his sleepiness but held open with resistance. She entertained his cheeky statements while drying her hair.

"You look great."

"Tuck me in?" His persistence eventually honeyed her. This half-asleep state was endearing, albeit laughable and unbelievable to anybody else.

"Night." She squatted down to face the now tucked-in Alex. He answered back, words blurred from exhaustion, clearly delirious since he audaciously asked for a goodnight kiss, but was met a splash of cold water. "Well, it's officially morning, but... semantics. Answer is no." Refusing to witness her smug face, within two minutes, the said man passed out.

An amused curve played on her lips, observing her friend. Once he was truly asleep, judging from his unfurrowed eyebrows and slightly parted lips, she kneeled to land a soft kiss on the crown of his head. Her movements trembled ever so slightly as her lips brushed against his forehead, diligent to not rouse the light-sleeper.

Otherwise, she'd never hear the end of it.

Alex had slipped into unconscious blissfulness by now, leaving her alone with her raging thoughts. Looking at him, she thought of a few words that she would never utter out loud, even if her life had been beaten to shy of an inch. She was no idiot, nor a teenage girl struggling to analyse her feelings.

Alexis had feelings for Alex, she resigned to it ever since her return from St. Petersburg. Staring death in the face can do that to somebody.

It was a fool's errand to think it would ever work out. A bigger mistake if she destroyed the most important person in her universe. It didn't help that they were in the middle of a war, and they always were.

Besides, love was overrated. But try telling that to her defying heart for not letting it go even after five unreciprocated years. Alexis quietly untied the curtains covering their partition of the compound, leaving more than one thing to rest.

It was a nightmare to work out in jeans, but to respect their culture, she obviously had no complaints. Alexis convened with Farah, Hadir and another group of militia fighters for their first training today. Today's lesson resolved around stealth—her speciality. She taught them everything to know about sneak attacks, efficient knifing and using unconventional weapons like a belt or a pen.

They were an easy bunch to teach, like a sponge readily soaking up whatever she had to give. Somehow standing here reminded her when she was an insignificant recruit back in Fort Benning, how time flew. "Being stealthy is more than sneaking around and keeping quiet. It conserves ammo and your energy. Tradecraft 101: if you can't identify the target, you are the target."

They wrapped around 9.15am, concluding the lesson by teaching them her neat trick, emptying her shoes to reveal razors pasted against her ankle. "Hide these in your socks. It will get you out, trust me." She drawled out the last part, unintentionally grinning at a funny memory.

Farah smiled, asking her fighters to head to breakfast. Hadir, with his stomach growling embarrassingly loud throughout the training, eagerly led the beeline to the kitchen. The commander spoke gratitude to her informative lesson again, before a small tap on Alexis' shoulders pulled her attention away. It belonged to a young woman, not older than 15, she guessed.

"I... want to learn more... Can you teach me?"

"Your English is flawless..." Alexis waited for her name, the young woman was fidgety, only met her gaze meekly upon asking.

"Alia."

"Beautiful name." A smile fell on both the commander and the agent's lips. "Well, nice to meet you, Alia. Maybe we can meet back here after breakfast?"

The young woman nodded eagerly, shoulders now loosened. There was a slight skip in her steps when she walked in the kitchen's direction, joining the rest.

The corpse of the young child she witnessed the yesterday unwillingly flashed before her eyes. If she shut her eyes, she'd bet she could still smell the unholy putrid decay of human flesh.

"Alen– Alexis?" The sound of her name dragged her out of her thoughts, the excitable yells and rowdy chatter from the kitchen now of tangible existence. Farah waited for her expectingly, "Lost you for a minute."

They walked away to the rooftops. "Oh. Sorry, just... I didn't see her when I was here the last time... She's so young."

"War waits for no one," Farah replied truthfully. "We found Alia in a sewage tunnel three years ago, she was the only one left in her family. We found her before the soldiers did..."

She didn't explain further; for they both knew the tragic outcome of a young girl living alone in this occupation. Farah continued on a solemn note, "Barkov does not inflict pain only from his bombs and massacre. He tears families apart, ruin our children's innocence. Barkov and his army do... unspeakable things..."

Farah didn't explicitly state it, but there was a shared understanding. It was terrifying to be a woman in Urzikstan. Or really, be a woman anywhere near this life...

"I'm sorry I couldn't help you the last time."

Fazed by the unexpected mention of old events, Farah replied a few seconds later. "It's okay. You came back."

"Still, five years is a long time when freedom is on the line."

"Alexis," Their gaze connected meaningfully, "I have waited all my life. Five years is nothing. Plus. you came with backup. You brought me victory."

The agent's nose scrunched in grimace, "Don't jinx it." The commander looked perplexed at her words, "It's bad luck to say you've already won before you actually did."

"You believe in luck?"

"I didn't, but after you saved me... Let's just say I'm a believer." Although there was nothing cheery in her tone. "Luck can go a long way, I'm living proof." The distant look in her eyes and made Farah caution around her next words.

Farah remembered the day she stumbled upon Alexis. Stumbled would be the right word, seeing she literally walked in a chamber with Alexis in it.

Same shit, different day. Only today Farah and her fighters received intel of a new mob that moved operations just outside the borders of Urzikstan. As if Barkov wasn't enough, they were terrorising and robbing farmers of their already piss-poor life.

They utilised the element of surprise, showing up in the dead middle of the night. Also dousing the enemy's compound in petrol was an easy and foolproof way to get the job done.

"Sister!" When Hadir yelled for her, she was terrified something had happened to her brother—who was still inside, drenching the house with more petrol. "There is a woman... Prisoner! She doesn't look like she's with them!"

"Bring her out!"

Hadir balanced a bloodied woman on his back, carrying her all the way back to their waiting trucks in the woods. Farah immediately demanded her male fighters to look away, covering the skimpily dressed woman with a canvas mat. Not that it mattered, really—the unknown woman's face was unrecognisable, bruises and blood littered all over her body, her natural skin colour a mystery to them.

"She's alive! Barely breathing, but still here." One of her fighters announced. At that, they floored back to their compound. Farah was the one to clean her up, horrified by the state she was in. The commander had seen her fair share of gore, but even she didn't want to imagine what the mob did to the woman. Under the cuts, wounds and burns Farah could see a peek of the woman's skin colour. After dabbing some water on her face, her American features came into view.

There was no patch on her, no dog tags to identify her. Soldier? No, spy, she concluded. The woman looked far too beautiful for a wise commander to send into an active, hostile battlefield like Urzikstan.

Farah shook her head dismissively. "You give me too much credit, Alexis. You were the one strong enough to live through all that."

"If it weren't for you, the mob would have killed me. Hopefully." The agent swung her legs freely over the rooftop's edge. Her solemness didn't bypass the commander. "I'm serious, Farah. If I wasn't so lucky to meet you, even though it was in a burning fire, I wouldn't be here..." Their sight fell upon a faintly wrinkled patch of skin that covered a part of Alexis' left shin. "You saved my life, Farah. Thank you."

Through blurry vision, it was hard to make the commander's face, but she roughly pictured the curve on her lips. She made no efforts to hide her tears, knowing Farah had seen her worse. Recalling St. Petersburg drained every ounce of life in her, a dark stain of her past that no matter what, she couldn't scrub away.

And believe her, she had scrubbed her skin raw trying to erase it. But it still lived, crawled under her skin.

After the annoying tear dropped, her vision cleared. Now facing Farah, who seemingly had the same sentimental expression on her face, the two women engulfed in a tight embrace. There was a kind of serenity residing in the knowledge that Farah still smelled the way Alexis remembered.

When Alexis, then Alena first woke, she was quick to hold a scalpel against the first person she saw. It didn't help that it was a man.

Digging relentlessly into the guy's neck, she ignored the electrifying pain all over her body yelling at her to stop.

"Stop! Stop!" A young female dashed into the room, frantic arms flailing about. Alexis recognised the authority that radiated off this woman, so she jerked her head at the exit.

"I cannot let you leave. Look at you, you need to recover."

Displeased, the scalpel pierced through the man's skin. Eyes averting in a frenzy, she tried to work the best escape plan in her jumbled mind. "I'll recover somewhere fucking else. Let me go."

"We are not the enemy here–"

"'Cause the bad guys are so honest?" Alexis spat, using the guy as her human shield to inch towards the entrance. Her antics were gaining a ton of spectators, lining alongside the exit with firearms. "Tell your men to back off. Now! Or I fucking shoot my way through."

Alexis dropped unconscious after that statement, apparently, someone had hit her with a dose of anaesthetic. She half-imagined she would be restrained, but surprisingly, not only was she not, but the same woman slept beside her bed defenceless too.

Maybe it was pure stupidity, or kindness.

"Hate to interrupt, but Laswell's calling." Alex's voice boomed from the rooftop's entrance, making her jump. Back-facing him, she hastily wiped her tears and at a confirming nod from Farah, she turned around—all traces of tears disappeared from her face.

Farah watched the brunette agent retreat, a sad yet proud smile resting on her face when she thought about how far they both had come.

"Everything okay?" Alex inquired warily, shutting the door behind him for complete privacy.

"Yeah, perfect. Why?"

"Nothing. Just looked intense, that's all. And you're usually not big on hugs."

An uncharming snort escaped from her. Leaning against a table, she said, "Maybe that's just when it comes to you. Enough, where's Laswell?"

Alex was about to probe further but an unceremonious ring of the satellite phone stopped him. He huffed, having half a feeling that Laswell was a genie or something borderline supernatural, summoned at the mere mention of her name.

"You got Saint and Echo 3-1 on the line."

"Sorry for the early call, but I got good news. The attic of the Al-Qatala townhouse was a gold mine. It looks like we found the Wolf."

"Good news indeed," Alex commented.

"Communications from the laptop were tracked to Ramaza Hospital in Urzikstan, where the Al-Qatala leader is believed to be holed-up. Farah's forces will track terror activity at the hospital while a Marine ground force will advance on the complex."

At that, they arched a questioning brow, "Why the extra heat? We already have Farah's forces."

"Not my call, Saint. Colonel Norris suggested it and the General agrees. We only have one shot at this, the plan needs to be flawless." She almost scoffed at the same old excuse, but couldn't really blame Laswell. "You two will link up with Sergeant Griggs, the main priority is to capture the Wolf. Saint, you will lead interrogation about the stolen gas. I want him alive, can I trust you?"

Alexis shrugged casually. "Of course, death would be too easy for the bastard... Excuse my language, Watcher."

"Agreed. But, I still want him to look presentable, got it?"

"Are we talking face? Or waist down?"

"Saint..."

The female agent received a defeated laughter from her partner, mouthing at her to stop it. Suddenly the minuscule guilt in him for executing Alexis' punishment for "insolence" disappeared. She had a true gift for pushing the limit, and then some. Consider it her cheap thrill—testing how far she could resist the CIA's chain of command. Alex sometimes wondered if Alexis was actively trying to court her death.

It was humorous watching her try though, knowing she was too precious of an asset to the CIA and JSOC to really punish. She'd only get a light slap on the wrist for trying—only irritating her further.

"Just kidding, Watcher. You can count on me."

━━━━

28 October 2019, 0530 Rammazan, Urzikstan.

Soldiers or agents, everyone had their pre-mission rituals. The familiarity of routines helped to comfort soldiers who fear they might not return from their voyages.

Every day might be their last.

For Task Force Black, it was a last-minute poker game until somebody won three streaks in a row—freeing themselves from carrying claymores for that mission. Usually, Commander Maddox would win, but observing their games for a prolonged period of time, something told Alexis her commander was playing cheat.

Their games, albeit entertaining, was not her thing. She liked her silence, enjoy the isolation before entering another war—she'd never know how long a mission was. Days, weeks, months.

Her incident changed her, after that, she could never really be alone anymore—feeling the urge to always be surrounded by people. So there she was, sitting on yet another rooftop that oversaw the hospital the Wolf was in, even though it wasn't her shift.

A waft of smoke filled her nostrils unpleasantly, immediately catching her attention. "I can feel you looking," Farah said from her right.

Busted.

"6 minutes." The agent subconsciously mumbled, earning a confused look from the commander.

"She means you're killing 6 minutes off your life." Alex continued after Farah's narrowed eyes, "She used to annoy me with this every time I pick up a stick. Mildly efficient. If you have iron willpower like me...Alexis can be very persuasive." He winced at the reminder of her 'detox' sessions, truly terrifying.

Alexis rolled her eyes.

Their conversation ceased when Farah's walkie-talkie announced Al-Qatala was firing in the hospital. "My soldiers confirm that the hospital is under siege. Al-Qatala is taking civilians as human shields. They're protecting someone."

"Or something."

Farah shrugged, "The more we find out... Hadir is my best sniper. You can rely on him and all my fighters."

"Well... This one is my best sniper. You can rely on her as long as she's well-fed— Ow! See my point?"

"Keep talking... I'll leave you to die."

Taking the opportunity when Hadir and Alexis engaged in small talk, seemingly part of their ruse, Farah successfully sneaked Alex her cigarette. He managed to pass it back before his partner swivelled back.

"Marines want their pound of flesh. They're leading the charge on this."

"I told you we would help you."

"And you're keeping your word."

"I don't do this to keep my word." Farah hesitated, "The invaders of my country have no regard for human life. The gas kills all things. Even food in our gardens. If you use these tactics, you are my enemy."

"No exceptions?"

"None. Al-Qatala has given my people a bad name, and we have paid dearly for their crimes. I want to see the Wolf punished."

The two CIA agents nodded coherently, "We'll make sure you're at the embassy for the handoff to Price."

"And you? Where will you two go when this is over?"

"Wherever they send me," Alex stared into the distance, casually nudging Alexis, "Hopefully this time to somewhere with a view."

Alexis chuckled, rolling up the hems of her jeans, "Urzikstan isn't so bad... you know. After we kill Barkov."

At their sighs, the commander finally understood. "You don't choose?"

"Ha. Not exactly." There was a price to pay to be the best out of the best, spoiler alert, it sucked.

They spilt, each taking different corners to defend until sunrise. Knowing his best friend couldn't be alone, Alex's fingers thoughtlessly slipped between hers and pulled her along.

Hadir called for the female agent, "Want to spot for me?"

Alex's grip tightened significantly. Her blood spiked from being put on the spot. "Um. I don't know... Hadir said he kept my fried rice—" Alex grumbled an insincere apology on her behalf before dragging her away. He hoped she couldn't hear the way his teeth grounded in irritation.

They settled on an isolated corner, away from eager ears. "Okay, I really wanted to eat that–"

"I'm a better eating partner. A better partner, overall, not that I'm trying to compete." He boasted with a wink, "But if I have to, I'll definitely win."

"Ah, the lovely smell of testosterone. If I didn't know better, I'd say you're tiptoeing on jealousy," Alexis mumbled sardonically, the scope on her sniper rifle clicking rhythmically.

"I'm not jealous."

At the realisation, a wry smile appeared on her lips, taking a break to harshly shove Alex's left shoulder. "My goodness, you are jealous! Don't worry, Hadir won't sweep me off my feet, pretty sure he has bigger things to worry about..." Alexis cleared her throat sarcastically, "Like a war?"

"You know me, I hate sharing. Especially my best friend." He shrugged dismissively after flicking her nose, only to be met with a pair of mocking eyes. "Can't you pretend to love me, just once? Come on, Lexi, say it. I'll cover your eyes." He whispered, the best friend part doused her with a bucket of cold water. Undeniably her heart lurched, though it was a simple joke, her stubborn heart had a mind of its own.

The rifle laid in her hands, forgotten. Under the rising sun, her voice was reduced to a whisper. Alexis swallowed a thick gulp, deciding to wave the white flag so she could calm her fiercely pounding heart.

"I don't have to pretend, Alex. You are my best friend. There's nobody else I can physically stand being in a room longer for five minutes."

For a cynical person like Alexis, this was basically a confession.

Alex arched a brow, still waiting.

"Fine. Love you."

Just as the Urzikstan sun finally pierced through the clouds, shining streaks of blood orange on their faces, it charmed a spell in Alex. The man couldn't help but be enamoured at this gorgeous sight.

"Yeah." He replied mindlessly, chewing down his lips while watching Alexis close an eye in concentration through her scope.

"Love you too."

‧͙⁺˚*･༓

alex, deadly c.i.a agent/prev delta force soldier: "tuck me innnnnn. 'kay gr8, now give me a goodnight kiss."

a/n: i gotta admit, i was so sleepy writing the first half i typed "fuck me in?" instead of "tuck" i mean... if u insist 😳

taglist: @flyboidameron

want to be tagged? just let me know!

#call of duty x oc #call of duty x reader #alex modern warfare #echo 3-1 #alex cod #john price #kyle garrick #farah karim #hadir karim #kate laswell #oc: alexis #fanfiction #call of duty #modern warfare #killer instinct #ysr writes: kl #please read tw carefully

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plutoswrath · 6 years ago

Text

horror for each sign

(Warning: explict description of violence and disturbing scenes.)

Aries: Gruesome:

I sit in the living room. The TV is turned on but there is no sound but the endless noise of the static. Black and white orbs mix into my vision and the walls are painted red. It mixes beautifully with the minty wallpaper, now adorened with red roses. Mother was so annoying. Always telling me to move aside from the TV (’Stop watching TV!’). So I took the hammer Mother usues to tender the meat with. She sat in front of the TV. And I smash the hammer towards her head. Tendering her head like a fine filet. (Splatter. Splatter. Splatter. Crimson colored splatters everywhere). Mother is quiet and in my head everything is very loud. But then my favorite TV show comes on and I sit in front of the big, static scene. I forget Mothers now very well tendered head behind me. I am not bothered, being just by myself.

Taurus: Tragic:

This appartement is a nightmare to sell. I’ve had some tough cases and some tough clients, but this is...nothing I was prepared for. Nothing about appartement 26 seems off at frst. It’s rather small, I could even say it has the potential to be cozy and warm, but there is something eerie clawing on your back, as soon as you enter it. Not to mention the figures I see in the corner of my eye and in the mirrors sometimes. The carpet is old and smells like somebody desperately tried to clean it over and over again in order to cover something up (murder maybe?). The bed always looks as someone just sat on it, even though I made it minutes ago. I learned not to put my keys on the shelf because they will go missing and reapear on strange places (behind the shower curtains). I am doomed because I am bound to this appartement. There has been a number that keeps calling me and asks if it’s still avaible, we made an appointment for a visit, but no one appeared. I can’t call them back, the number isn’t avaible (that’s what the voice of the Lady at the other side of the receiver whispers). But this number keeps calling me, every Friday at 12pm. I know something happened there, but at this point I don’t dare to search for answers.

Gemini: Disastrous:

Once there was a man, with a house big enough for him to live, too small for a family to grow. The man drew a picture of his family every day - 4 people. Happy and smiling, eating dinner at the kitchen table. The man brushed his teeth every night before lying down to sleep and combed his 4 puppets hair. Humming, humming. He loved his puppets, dear companionship they were always there for him where did my family go? No need for a family I told her to stop shouting at me as his house is too small to grow one. Because he is alone and forever and will be and will not seek out for a real life company what do you mean they aren’t my children? Ding dong. I open the door and see a child a child that is not mine. I will refuse to accept that they aren’t mine I am alone and will keep me company, yes come in, I will buy some cookies, sit down on the couch, you want to look at my puppets?

Once there was a man, with a house big enough for him to live, too small for a family to grow. But enough space for a small family of puppets, now combing 5 heads every night before lying down to sleep.

Cancer: Cruel:

It is 08:30 pm. in the deepest of winter. The sun has set a long time ago and the world outside is warpped in a thick blanet of glistening snow. Four children brush their teeth before lying down to sleep, as they hear someone climbing down the stairs and opening the door.

“Children, lie down, will you? Uncle Vitja will tell you a nice story before you go to sleep, okay? Since your mother and father are still in that restaurant they mentioned earlier they told me to help you fall asleep. Of course I prepared a nice story from Russia, what kind of question - oh, just hear what I have to tell, okay? Have you ever heard of Baba Yaga? No? Ha! I thought so, now, listen closely..never, never go alone into the forest and be disrespectful to nature, you hear me? Baba Yaga has her eyes and ears everywhere and somewhere she will watch you when you try to pick all the flowers from the fields or demolish the trees with a knife; yes I am looking at all of you! You are closeby teh forest, so pay attention! Her hut can’t be found since it stands on chicken legs and wanders around. Also you can’t enter even when you find it, because it turns around when sensing intrudors. But you’ll notice if its her shack even when it looks normal because the garden is adorned with human skulls since she likes eating us. Huh? What are you looking at me? I only tell the truth! She is one with the earth and one with life and death; she decides who needs to die and who doesn’t but this all...makes her hungry at times, it’s exhausting you know and the flesh of humans is so tender....”

Uncle Vitjas eyes run across the room as he turns to the opened window.

“Rule number one: never leave your windows open when your parents aren’t home. Yaga smells the bad spirit of mean children!”

And his eyes turn red and his nose long. His back shrinks and his skin turns to bark. The teeth long and metallic. The children are in shock and fear grips them tightly as the old womans long finger hover over to them. They can only hope for their parents to come home soon.

Leo: Mad:

“Manot? Dear, is that you? (.....) Dear, don’t be mistaken, I am sorry for troubling you with my calls lately, but I am so far away and I needed to hear you voice (.....) Oh silly, have you forgotten how to speak? I called your mom yesterday because I read that you couldn’t bring yourself to look her in the eyes after stealing the money she put aside for your fathers surgery (...) Oh- so sorry, I know you told me not to read your diary, but please, put those dangerous pills aside and come to me - no rehab needed, just my ever lasting love that heals you (............) Manot...now, don’t be mean. I wouldn’t break into your home if you would just give me the keys like I asked you to in my last love letter!! Pay attention to my words and you wouldn’t be so troubled all the time!! Stupid bitch, igoring me and my love as always, why do you think you’re higher than me? (.................) Can’t say something? (...............) Hello? (.......crrk.........) Hello? Are you recording this? Just wait till I come home! Hope you don’t fall asleep without me, hehe, mind it if you could put on those sweet mint colored panties you wore back than as you graduated? I loved these...ha..... (....). Well then, I need to go to work now. See you soon love. Bye.”

Virgo: Cold:

Our Grandmother used to tell us stories about her old school. Stories I like to tell my friends when we sit together for a drink after work. She has always been a funny woman, she’s been a clever kid that liked to trick her teachers at times and told me she never got into trouble because of the ‘funny’ old man (a monk to be specific) that apparently no one saw except her. The school (having been a monestary in the past) was old and full of history. And the kids gave the dead walls new life. And so did my Grandmother to this dead man who never talked but stood in the corner, pointing to opened windows she snook out when her teachers turned away. Or directing her to the funny old photobooks of former students in the big library. He never left the grounds of the school though. She was young - 8 years old maybe - and felt special to have made such an ‘unique and special friend’, that she never thought about the fact that it could’ve been a ghost. So I asked her if he was nice. Her smile turned crooked and she looked out of the window as she answered: “I think he was once, but he was lonely for too long. One day I walked down the hallway and he pointed to staircase to the cellar or our school - something we were forbidden to go to under any circumstances because of the gigantic oven that stood there. Well, as idiotic as I was I followed him, but right in front of the doorway I stopped. His smile was off and he pointed into the black room where the giants red and orange mouth of the oven smiled at me. I felt the chance in the air and left, shaking my head. He looked angry and sad at the same time. Later that day one of our students went missing. And they found him. 2 days later, his ashes and bones in the oven. I am glad I was smart enough not to walk into the room that day and I never saw that monk again.”

Libra: Erroneous:

‘I love you, I love you’, I whisper as I turn the knife in your chest and stab into you heart for more than a thousand times. All the times I told you I loved you, I revisit those memories and breath heavily as I remember our first kiss. ‘Ah, your eyes are beautiful..’ So I plunge them out and put them in a jar, I place them on the top of my bookshelf so I can look at them and you can look at me when I lie down to sleep. I f e e l t h e w a r m t h o f y o u r b l o o d o n m y b o d y G o d y o u f e e l s o g o o d. I love the way you looked at me and you loved my smile so I engrave it into my skin, on my face - forever. I place my hand on your chest and the open wound allows me to toucg your heart. I smell you and feel you.

I l o v e y o u.

Scorpio: Demonic:

‘It is him who writes the names behind our wallpaper, when our little daughter tells me to look behind it. He is the nightmare that keeps her up at night, the monster underneath her bed, the long black hair that is tickling me in the shower. There is a shadow I feel standing behind me, someone breathing in my neck; the wind that is closing and opeing our doors and the force that drags me from the couch every time I try to sleep there. The feeling of someone standing behind me and watching how the blood begins to pump under the constant pressure in our own precious four walls. There are eyes inside of the dark- A pair of two red eyes accompanying me everywhere. They are placed in every little black corner in our house. I see them in the reflection of the TV and the computer screen. They are bloody and since weeks our sleeping room smells foul. And it is I who brought him here in order to bring you back, my dear, and I brought sin over our love, over our home, over the one I swore to protect. And I will continue protecting her - in heaven.’

Love, Helena

(To whoever finds this: leave the ruins of this home and never come back.He will follow.)

Sagittarius: Bloody:

I once visited this town on one of my trips. It was small and far away from the next bigger city, but people from all around it swooned over the restaurants that has been there for several generations - apparently it served the finest meat in town. So naturally, I ordered a table for one the following day and tried a steak myself. Indeed, it was fine - very fine, tender and beautifully pink colored in the middle. I am confused though: I haven’t seen any fields with cattles or any farms on my way to this city. Nor do they have many tourists here; so how does this restaurant survive over the years? Then again, my uncle is an ivestigator and told me that near the next biggest city that is two hours away have been reported people that went missing over the past 50 years. And seemingly, they never reappeared. But they cases went cold since there were almost no hints or tracks.

Oh god .

What am I eating?

Capricorn: Sinnful:

Day after day he cared for the old cathedral, being the only Pastor to talk to for the old village, in the dark times of WW1 being the voice of sanity that bring clarification for the desperate citizens. “God”, he asked one day, knees on the ground, “why does his happen to us? What did we do, our small village, to deserve being conflicted in this war?” God - knowing that the higher sense of the things happening aren’t for this man to understand, the pastor knowing for sure that it is evi, tempted people creating chaos on earth - kept quiet and knew this was an inner war he had to fight for himself. The devil - listening as well - being sneaky and answering the man instead: “You want to know?”, he asked alluring. The pastor cried. “Yes..all this blood and murder..” Content the devil whispered into the ear of the Pastor, telling him all the sins of the people in town, showing him that there is no such thing as innocence. No, every time someone dared to go to the confessional, it was not the Pastors voice answering him. Something dark devoured his soul that night, letting him lose hope in good and moral. And he shamed them. And he pushed their souls to the cliff in times of gruesomeness. And no one dared to put a foot into the church, even after the war. Because an old, bald man with bloodstained eyes wrote hieroglyphics on the wall at night, talked in gibberish and dared to haunt everyone who stepped into this holy place with their sinfull souls.

Aquarius: Immoral:

24.11.2017. Day 23. I didn’t leave the labor for almost a month now. I am not interested in eating. I don’t want to sleep. I just...can’t stop hearing those screams of this...abstrusity the doctor shot two days ago. I think he lost his mind. He thinks creating live is like cooking: grabbing some ingredients that seem to get along together and putting it all into one mixing bowl - hoping for the best. But that’s not it. That’s against nature, that is...disgusting. He is whispering names to those dead mutated baby animals. (Sophie, wasn’t it?) He hopes for them to live, but how are they supposed to live if they can’t even move their limbs? I wonder now, how far will he go? I am afraid he will test on me. I am a female, perfect to give birth to whatever he wants me to. I need to find a way out of here, before I become one of his subjects. He looks at me always a little too long at times. And he complimented my wide hips once. I will hide this letter somewhere safe, so he won’t find it, but please, if someone’s gonna find this and me, nurse ▇▇ ▇▇▇ is no more, please, stop this madness. He has a cellar I am not allowed to go in, God knows what he is keeping in there, since I already know where he is keeping the animals. To whoever reads this, stay safe, don’t be fooled by easy money making like me.

Pisces: Otherworldly :

Mom doesn’t believe me.

She doesn’t believe that there is a Boogeyman in the closet, with yellow eyes and long, long fingers that tries to grab little children in their sleep. She doesn’t believe that when I close the door behind me, I can hear someone scratching at the other side of it. She doesn’t believe that there is someone standing in front of the window at night, that’s why I close the curtains always for her and force her to look away when the dark figures in the mirrors try to scare her. Mom hates the footsteps at night, but I just try to catch those bats that get into our attic every night. He sends them and tries to scare her so much so that she falls down the stairs and breaks her neck.

Mom didn’t believe me back then and years later after I died in this house she still tries do deny the evil in it. But I am here to protect her. Even tho she is afraid of me, I love her and will forever be by her side.

#wanted to do that for a year #sorry if its not for everyone #i like.....writing stuff like that especially when its a bit more abstract like aries gemini or libra #astrology #zodiac #aries #taurus #gemini #cancer #leo #virgo #libra #scorpio #sagittarius #capricorn #aquarius #pisces #own #mine

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proseandpeonies · 6 years ago

Note

Prompt: Rowaelin! College au, she runs into him at a bar, they have a one night stand, and the next day she finds out he’s the grad student TA for her class. Or anything with rowaelin and college

@aelin-godkiller you have no idea how much joy answering this gives me! This is my first completed work since August, I think… idk. Also, this is about 2/3 smut so I hope you enjoy.

My Writing

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

Aelin was truly, deeply fucked. The tall, silver-haired manacross the bar had been checking her out every five minutes (she’d been doingthe same, if not more frequently), and if one of them didn’t get the balls toapproach the other in the next minute, Aelin was going to scream. He sat at atall table, occasionally talking to the equally handsome man across from him. Aelinhad thought initially that they were on a date, but then Tall and Handsome hadkept looking her over with a gaze that was simply indecent. Aelin had met hisgaze a few times, even raising her drink at him when she had been feelingparticularly ballsy.

She’d pointedly ignoredevery other invitation to dance the whole evening, from men and women and thosein between, but still, she hadn’t gotten the nerve to approach him. It wasn’tthat she was scared of his rejection, no one in recent memory had turned downone of her prepositions, but it was more that she felt … Rusty.

Her relationship with Chaol had ended months ago (tragically),and with the exceptions of a few drunken gropings in the back of various clubsand bars throughout Wendlyn, she’d remained pathetically celibate. Patheticallyand depressingly celibate, her days filled with classes at the University of Wendlynand her nights spent at whatever bar was closest. She’d done anything to distractherself, but up until this night, she hadn’t sought distraction in someone else.Aelin grimaced down at her gin and tonic, tilting it side to side, watching theice clink against the sides of the glass. She was Aelin Galathynius, for gods’sake, people would kill to be or fuck her. She could do anyone and anything,and she’d be damned if—

“Am I bothering you?”

Aelin didn’t let her surprise showas Tall and Handsome stepped up to her barstool, his silver hair glinting inthe dim light. His smile was small, timid almost, but she could tell he wasn’tunconfident. There was something about his easy grace and strong body told herthat he knew how attractive he was. Funny, she did too.

“Not atall.” Aelin grinned, and took a sip of her gin, “I thought I was going to haveto draw a picture to get you over here.”

The man laughed, and it was deep and warm and reminded Aelinof honey.

“You know, you could’ve come to me.” Tall and Handsome had therolling accent of someone from Doranelle.

Aelin tsked and tilted her head. Truly, she was fucked. Hissilver hair was swept back into a neat bun at the back of his head, a fewstrands slipping out to frame his face. A black, inky tattoo that was writtenin the Old Language flowed from beneath his gray oxford up and over his jaw tocurl around his left temple. And his eyes, gods his eyes, they were the deepestgreen she’d ever seen. As she gave him the once-over, she considered what tosay next.

“Iwouldn’t want to give you the satisfaction,” she decided.

He smiled and extended a large, calloused hand, which shetook, “I’m Rowan.”

“Aelin,” she purred, “Lovely to meet you.” It was so, so lovely.

He quirked a brow, his smilewidening.

Aelin grunted as Rowan slammed heragainst the door of her apartment, his hands spreading her thighs as he kissed herlike she’d never been kissed. Gods, he was strong. Strong enough to lift her 5’9,muscled frame and slam her against a door like she was nothing.

“Fuck’s sake, Rowan,” she moaned. But he didn’t stop, he wasbusy kissing and sucking his way down her neck, biting when he felt like it.How the fuck he’d figured she was into that, she didn’t know.

He had her pinned, all of his body pressed against her, andthe scent of his cologne, piney and masculine, went straight to her head. Aelinrolled her hips against his in a desperate attempt for some release against thethrobbing in her core.

Aelin brought his mouth to hers, slipping her tongue throughhis parted lips. He tasted like bourbon and mint and Aelin felt fire streakthrough her when he canted his hips up against hers, grinding his cock againsther core. This was what she needed, what she had been wanting for too long. Adistraction, a heady, warm distraction that would make her feel something besidesanger and guilt and rage.

Rowan pulled away, tugging the strap of her dress off andexposing her breast. She watched as he pressed soft, almost tender kissesaround her breast before finally slipping her raised nipple into his mouth. Shetossed back her head, his lips and tongue evoking needy little moans that she couldn’tcontain. He pulled away and nipped and bit at her other breast, alternatingfrom soft kisses to sharp bites.

Aelin slid the hand that wasn’t clinging to his shoulderthrough his hair, freeing it from the tie at the back. He began to pull awayfrom her breast, but she gave his hair a quick yank, pressing him back.

Rowan laughed aroundher breast, but then raised his head.

“Where’s the bedroom?” His voice was low and gravely, hislips shining.

Aelin unwrapped her legs from around his waist and took hishand, tugging him behind her as she made way to her bedroom. If she stumbled neitherof them mentioned it.

The second the stepped into her bedroom, Aelin was on him.She slanted her mouth over his, moaning against his tongue. Rowan slid hisenormous hands beneath her thighs and lifted her up, walking back towards herbed. There was no ceremony from Rowan when he tossed her down, but Aelin didn’tmind. She didn’t want to think about anything but pleasure tonight.

Aelin stared up from the bed at Rowan, making sure he was watchingwhen she pulled up the tight skirt of her dress, slowly exposing the v of herlegs and her lack of underthings.

“Fuck,” Rowan rumbled, sliding a hand up her leg, “Do you alwaysgo out like that?”

Aelin rolled her eyes and tugged her dress all the way off.Men were sometimes so slow.

“Did you see this dress?” She tossed it at him, smiling as hiseyes widened at her bare body. “It would have shown ever little line!”

Rowan shook his head as he laughed, his long hair messy fromher hands. Rowan wasted no time as he tugged off his shirt, undoubtedly poppinga few buttons in the process. Aelin let her hands wander as he stripped, squeezingher breasts and sliding a trembling finger over her clit. When Rowan stood barebefore her, Aelin let out a soft, breathy moan. His body was strong and dark-skinned, the hard ridges of his muscles taking her breath. She parted her legsas she looked at his aching cock, allowing herself to imagine what it would feellike inside of her.

Rowan leaned down between her legs, parting them with reverenthands, “Can I?”

Aelin smirked and gave him a slow nod.

He began by kissing up her thigh with hot open-mouthed kisseshat teased her to no end, his hands massaging her flesh. There was somethingincredibly heady about watching his head move between her legs, it made herfeel powerful and beautiful and—

“Fucking hell!” Aelin’s hips bucked as he finally slantedhis mouth over her core. He slipped her legs over his shoulders, and she dugher heels into his muscled back, the feeling of him and his tongue too much tobear. Her back was arching off the bed almost immediately. Rowan let out a lowmoan, the vibrations from it sending little shock waves through her.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he groaned, his lips shining withher slick.

Aelin usually preferred her partners to abstain from dirtytalk, but something about his voice made her a little more inclined towards it. Rowan slid his tongue to her entrance, givingher slow, deep strokes that left her gasping. Aelin grabbed a fistful of hishair, her hips bucking and undulating against him. She could feel herselfquickly approaching climax, and she began to cry out in jumbled gasps.

He began to grind against her clit, two of his long, thickfingers scissoring inside her, and Aelin let go of coherence, “Don’t- don’tstop!”

She felt the heat of her orgasm spread from her centerthroughout her body, and Aelin moved to cover her mouth with a hand, but was stoppedby Rowan, who was still working her through her orgasm.

Aelin let herself cry out, hoping that her neighbors wouldn’tthink she was being murdered.

When it was all too much, she tugged him up, not even caringthat when he kissed her, she could taste herself on his lips. She slid her handdown the ridges of his abs, scratching her long nails against the v of hiships. Rowan gasped against her mouth, his eyes squeezing shut when she wrappedher small hand around his length. Aelin pulled away from his mouth and beganpeppering his jaw and neck with soft kisses, enjoying the sounds she waswringing from him with each twist of her wrist. Rowan tilted his head down to lookwhere she stroked him and let out something she assumed was the Old Language.

After a moment, he stopped her hand, his grip gentle butfirm, “I want you to come at least two more times before I do, princess.”

Aelin laughed and let him go, but didn’t let his littlenickname go by unpunished. Before he could react, she pressed the pad of herthumb over the slit of his cock, once, twice, until—

“Gods above, Aelin, stop.” He pulled her hand away, his voiceloud and commanding. Aelin met his dark stare and held it.

“Make me, prince.”She said the words with more than enough venom.

Rowan let out what could’ve been a growl and pushed her upthe bed, knocking her hands away as he positioned his cock at her entrance.

“Come on, Rowan, I—”

Aelin let out a scream as he pushed in, his length thick andlong and more than she’d ever had before. Aelin arched her back, her handsscratching against the skin of Rowan’s back. She was sure she’d left marks.

Rowan rumbled out a laugh and pressed lazy, soothing kissesalong her neck.

“Did that work?”

Aelin rolled her hips, having already adjusted to him, “Perfectly.”

But she was a bit pissed at his too satisfied tone. Aelinwrapped her legs around his back and shoved, hard. Rowan grunted as she slammedhim onto his back.

He gazed up at her, a little shocked, but Aelin could tellhe was pleased. She grabbed his left hand, which was also decorated by thestrange tattoo, and placed it against her breast. He got the idea quickly, andbegan pinching and massaging her aching breast. Aelin lifted herself thenallowed gravity to bring them back together. The moved as two opposite forces,Aelin pulling, Rowan pushing, and she was becoming dizzy with the feel of him.She ground her clit against him, her breath coming in gasping pants.

“Rowan, I need-,” she didn’t have to finish it as Rowanslipped his hand from her breast to her clit. The rhythm he found had her hurtlingtowards the cliff of her release, and she slid her hand into his free one, whichallowed her more momentum.

She screamed again as she came, the sound loud and gasping.

Rowan groaned beneath her, and she could tell he was tryingto hold it together as her core squeezed and pulsed around him.

When she had ridden the wave to its end, Rowan rolled her ontoher back. A bit out of breath, he looked her over. Her chest was flushed anddamp with sweat and she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“I think I promised you another one, correct?” Rowan wasn’tashamed of how out of breath he was.

Aelin seemed to struggle to openher eyes, but she was coherent enough to gasp out a breathless, “Yes.”

The next morning, as Aelin sat in her 10 AM Arts of Wendlyn,she thought about the scribbled number Rowan had left on her kitchen counter.She silently thanked the gods she had avoided the whole awkward one-night standgoodbye.

She took a sip of her coffee as she waited for their instructor.Professor Maeve Noire was a bitch, but Aelin had to admit she was a genius.

The sound of the auditorium door shutting drew Aelin out ofher thoughts.

“I’m Rowan Whitethorn, and I’m your TA. I’ll be instructing for ProfessorNoire this morning and for the rest of the…”

Aelin felt her stomach drop as she locked eyes with him.

Rowan cleared his throat, his face carefully drawn. “For therest of the week while she attends a conference in Doranelle. Now, if you’llopen the book to page 245…”

Aelin was so fucked.

#rowaelin #abby’s writing tag #rowaelin fanfic #tog #throne of glass #rowan whitethorn #aelin ashryver galathynius #aag

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queenmorgawse · 6 years ago

Text

transmigration for dummies

chapter five. mdzs scum villain au. concept credit goes to @lee-luca. read on ao3 for end notes. previous | first | next

She said the lunatic killed her son!

At the servant girl’s words, gasps ripple through the group of disciples. “What?” Lan Fan asks, her face full of disbelief. “That funny-looking guy with the ghost makeup?”

The other girl opens her mouth as if trying to explain, but she’s shaking so badly only a few garbled, incomprehensible words come out. Jingyi takes pity on her. “It’s fine, we’ll go.”

“Yes, you’ll be safe,” Sizhui intervenes, shooting Jingyi a grateful look. Jingyi sternly tells his heart it is not the right moment to feel so pleased with itself. “You,” their leader points at half the group, “stay behind in case other corpses show up while we’re gone. Everyone else, come with me. Jingyi, send off one of the flares now. This is an unexpected development, we’re not supposed to deal with it on our own.”

If there’s one thing Gusu Lan disciples can do mindlessly, even with fear rising at the back of their throats, it’s follow orders. They fall easily into disciplined ranks again, packing up their weapons and talismans and checking their supplies, sharing them evenly among themselves.

The servant girl looks on, eyes wide ; Jingyi tries to give her a smile, even as he feels his own heart hammering at his ribs. ( If it’s out of fear or excitement, he honestly can’t tell. ) Fumbling with his pockets, he draws out one of their flares, igniting it with a flick of a flame talisman. The fireworks whistle through the air, exploding in a shower of pale blue sparks and forming the Gusu Lan cloud pattern overhead.

They hear the East Hall before they reach it. Horrified murmurs and hushed comments buzz around Jingyi, the crowd’s fear almost tangible. When the young cultivators enter the hall, some of the Mo family relatives turn to them with such hope in their eyes he doesn’t have the heart to think of what comes next.

Jingyi gently taps Sizhui’s elbow, pointing to a human-shaped object covered by a swath of white fabric with a nod of his head. “Look, over there…”

They carefully skirt around Madam Mo’s slumped form. For a moment, Jingyi almost feels sorry for her, but it’s hard to make the feeling last when he remembers how fast she turns on the rest of them, or what Mo Xuanyu went through at her hands. At least, she doesn’t protest when Sizhui bends down and, murmuring apologies, uncovers the corpse’s face.

Mo Ziyuan looks like he’s been dead for days, not minutes. His skin looks like it shriveled up, both water and life draining out of him, and Jingyi feels his stomach twist at the expression of pure terror frozen on the boy’s face. “It’s like an old man’s corpse,” he whispers to Sizhui, whose face betrays similar confusion.

“They found the corpse less than three minutes ago, is what I overheard,” Sizhui replies in a hush. “In the hallway outside of the East courtyard, apparently. He was already like this when they got to him.”

“Da-shixiong, what happened to him?” Tao Ming whispers as he catches up to them. When he takes his first good look at Mo Ziyuan’s corpse, his face turns an interesting shade of green.

Sizhui’s barely opened his mouth to reply when a loud crashing noise resounds at the entrance of the hall. The crowd looks on as a few servants drag ‘Mo Xuanyu’ in, their hands like vises around his arms. Though they don’t let go of him, Jingyi catches Wei Wuxian’s slight movement to be able to get a better look at the corpse. He can practically see the gears turning in the man’s brains.

Moments like these remind him that for all the times he called Wei Wuxian the dumbest main character to ever walk the Earth, he really is whip-smart when it comes to everything but Lan Wangji.

Movement at the periphery of his vision catches his attention just in time for him to move out of the way as Lan Sizhui surges forward, gently wrapping his fingers around Madam Mo’s wrist and knocking a silver dagger out of her hand. It lands at Lan Fan’s feet, and Jingyi quickly bends to pick it up before the woman can wrestle out of Sizhui’s - admittedly light - grip and try for round two.

“My son died a tragic death, so I am only avenging him! What are you stopping me for?” Madam Mo screeches, her frantic gaze darting between the two of them.

In the meantime, Wei Wuxian’s captors have let go of him. The infamous Yiling Patriarch tucks himself behind Sizhui’s back, his eyes barely peeking out over the boy’s shoulder. “How does your son’s tragic death concern me?”

Well, he’s not wrong, but he could have worded it better!

Jingyi doesn’t need to speak, anyway. It’s obvious Sizhui won’t raise a hand against the ‘lunatic’ ⎯ at least, not yet. Instead, his fellow disciple forces a smile, standing tall between Wei Wuxian and his would-be attacker. “Madam Mo, seeing from your son’s condition, his flesh and essence have been drawn out of him, which means that he was killed by evil beings, not him.”

Next to Jingyi, Tao Ming squeaks out a little ah, while Lan Fan winces. Despite himself, he considers it a family resemblance.

Madam Mo looks more ready to either blow up or faint by the minute. Instinctively, Jingyi steps forward, putting himself between her and the younger teens.

“You know nothing!” she heaved. “The lunatic’s father was a cultivator. He must have learned a lot of demonic spells from him!”

“Madam, there is a lack of evidence, so…” Sizhui starts, before she interrupted him again.

“Here’s all the evidence you need! Look for yourselves! A-Yuan’s remains already told me who murdered him!”

Another wave of whispers ripples through the servants and family members. Jingyi makes a move toward the white sheet, but before he can get to it, Wei Wuxian scampers to the corpse’s side and gives the fabric a sharp tug. It slips away without a sound, revealing the awful detail for all to see.

“What happened to his arm?” Lan Fan asks, her voice almost an octave higher than before.

Madam Mo gives a triumphant cackle. “See? Everyone who was there heard what the lunatic said, even you children! He said that if A-Yuan touched his belongings again, he would cut off his hand!”

Almost immediately, she buries her face in her hands. Whatever she says comes out as wretched sobs, which Wei Wuxian is perfectly fine with ignoring, taking advantage of her distraction to bodily shove his hand into the folds of Mo Ziyuan’s robe and fishing out a black scrap of fabric.

Jingyi snatches out of his hands as soon as a spark of understanding lights behind his eyes, holding it out towards Sizhui and the other disciples. Their eyes collectively widen, the truth of the situation dawning on all of them at once.

“What an idiot!” Lan Fan exclaims under her breath, earning herself a disapproving glance from Sizhui. Jingyi can’t help but share the sentiment, though. When someone repeatedly tells you not to disturb a flag formation unless you want to get seriously hurt, listen to them, dumbass!

The look on Sizhui’s face says otherwise, though. Our fault, he mouths to Jingyi, eyes suddenly downcast.

“It’s not your fault,” he feels compelled to say. “We were busy subduing the corpses or resting between waves, we couldn’t keep an eye on the stuff literally everyone was told not to mess with.” He awkwardly pats Sizhui’s shoulder, hoping the gesture conveys everything his brain is not letting him word properly at the moment.

The other gives him a wry, grateful smile, but the moment is quickly interrupted when Madam Mo pulls herself out of her stupor again and hurls a teacup at Wei Wuxian’s head, the porcelain shattering on the wall where he would have stood had he not moved in time. “If you didn’t frame him in front of so many people yesterday, would he go out in the middle of the night? It’s all your fault, you son of a bitch! And you!” she screams, whirling toward Sizhui. “You bunch of useless fools! You cultivate and ward off evil spirits, but you can’t even protect him! A-Yuan is still a child!”

Sizhui’s face darkens, but he somehow keeps his expression neutral. Jingyi, on the other hand, is burning up with the need to introduce his fist to Madam Mo’s face, but the invisible, hovering presence of the System keeps him from acting on that impulse. From the slight movement behind him, though, he’s not the only one entertaining these kinds of thoughts, even if they’re all too used to discipline to crack so easily. At least, there’s nothing stopping him from mentally clapping for Wei Wuxian’s tirade. That’s right! Suck it, Ancient Chinese Mrs Robin!

Madam Mo grows visibly red in the face. Her hand whips out, slapping her husband on the shoulder. “Call everyone! Call everyone inside!” Her shoulders shake violently. “You… You… You, get out of here as well!”

Jingyi does feel a bit sorry for the master of the house. Grief wraps around him like a cloak, making his movements sluggish. Kind of like watching a fish jerk around on land, he thinks regretfully. Rest in peace, my dude. Or maybe just a bit, because you were maybe also shitty to Mo Xuanyu, but, you know.

He’s entirely prepared for the shrill scream that pierces through the air, just seconds after A-Tong the servant leads Mr Mo out into the courtyard.

He and Sizhui don’t need to look at each other twice to rush out of the hall, closely followed by the other disciples. Barely a few steps out the door, they almost trip over two twitching bodies. At first glance, even an idiot could tell there’s nothing to be done for Mr Mo. His corpse lies on its side, left arm missing, looking as thoroughly drained of life as his son’s. A-Tong, on the other hand, is still drawing in shallows breaths, as if trying to crawl back inside.

Madam Mo, following close behind, lets out a quiet wail at the sight and crumples. One of her attendants catches her right before she hits the ground, looping her arm around her shoulders.

The others’ faces look as pale as Jingyi’s must be. Despite knowing what happens next, fear twists in his gut all the same. In theory, everything should be fine, but he’s already proven that canon can veer off the ‘correct’ path. What if it does again? What if he’s not as fast as the original would have been and someone gets hurt?

As soon as the thought worms its way through his head, Jingyi resolutely shakes it off. Worrying about things like that is exactly the kind of distraction that’ll actually impede him.

Sizhui’s voice cuts through the haze, although it still sounds rattled at the edges. He helps A-Tong up, his grip surprisingly steady. “Did you see what it was?”

The boy’s mouth moves, though he’s unable to form more than a few strangled sounds. Seconds last hours in Jingyi’s mind before the servant starts shaking his head, unable to calm down or stop trembling. “Fan-shimei, help him up,” Sizhui finally says. “Jingyi, you did send the signal, right?”

Jingyi nods. “Yeah, but if there aren’t any seniors around, no one’s gonna be here in less than an hour.” He takes a deep breath, crossing his fingers behind his back not to get pinged by the System, then adds : “Let’s stay outside. There’s more room to move around here, if people panic inside, we’ll never get anything done.”

A quiet whimper interrupts their conversation. Horrified and fascinated, Jingyi watches A-Tong slowly draw himself upright.

“A-Tong, you’re awake!” the girl supporting Madam Mo sighs. Dude, you’re about to have so many regrets, Jingyi thinks, and lights a candle in his thoughts.

As if on cue, A-Tong’s hand curls around his neck. Lightning-fast, Sizhui gets to his side, tapping a few acupoints to get him to loosen his hold. When the other boy looks to him, Jingyi grabs the boy’s left hand. Even a Lan disciple’s arm strength is no match for a resentful Nie Mingjue’s, it seems ; even knowing exactly how it goes, he’s tempted to close his eyes.

It ends when A-Tong’s head drops with a sinister crack. Shocked, Sizhui lets go, leaving Jingyi free to follow suit.

The servant girl moans, hiding behind the group of cultivators. “… A ghost! There’s an invisible ghost here. It made A-Tong strangle himself!” At the same time, all the lanterns in the courtyard are blown off, plunging them into darkness.

The scene plunges into absolute chaos. Masters and servants alike trample each other in their attempts to flee as fast as possible, stumbling over themselves. “Stop!” Jingyi shouts, hoping his voice carries over the screams. “Everyone shut up! Stay right where you are or I’ll drag you back!”

It works better than expected. More than a few people stop in their tracks, stunned, and Jingyi’s friends ( can he call them his friends now? ) make googly eyes at him like he just grew a second head.

【OOC behavior detected : uncharacteristic outburst : -20 ⎯】

Before the System can announce points deduction, Jingyi interrupts : I’ve got to try and keep things from escalating! Original’s an asshole but he wouldn’t risk more people getting hurt, okay?

He marks the silence that follows as one of the proudest moments of his entire life.

“Most people still left,” Lan Fan observes after the commotion quiets into faint sobbing. “Nice try, ge.”

“Yes,” Sizhui echoes kindly. “Let’s just...let’s do our best now, okay?” He pulls a flame talisman from his sleeve and ignites it, creating a reassuring burst of light to keep the shadows at bay. While he goes to restore the lanterns’ glow, some of the disciples approach the remaining members of the Mo household, murmuring reassurances.

This is a lull. Jingyi’s no soldier, and the courtyard is not a battlefield proper, but he can tell they’re only getting a few moments’ reprieve. He spares a thought for the others. If he’s this scared knowing more or less what comes next, what about them?

“Hand… His hand! A-Tong’s hand!”

There we go.

He doesn’t need Sizhui to turn toward A-Tong’s body, burning talisman in hand, to picture it. The servant’s left hand is gone, chopped off at the shoulder, just like Mo Ziyuan.

Wei Wuxian lets out a wild cackle that startles the breath out of several disciples, including Jingyi himself. “Why the hell are you laughing? Is this the right time?” he hisses at the man. Does the lunatic cover really need this? He’s definitely going to scare the household further!

“No, no!” Despite knowing the truth, he has a hard time repressing a full-body shudder when Wei Wuxian pulls at his sleeve, pointing at the corpses. In the low light, his hanged ghost makeup stands out all the more harshly, making him look like one of the undead himself.

“What, no? If you’re not going to stay quiet ⎯”

Wei Wuxian pffts and shakes his head. “These aren’t them.”

“What?” Tao Ming asks, a tremor to his voice, at the same time Sizhui adds “What do you mean, these aren’t them?”

“This isn’t Mr Mo, and this is not A-Tong either,” Wei Wuxian states, uncharacteristically serious. “Look at their hands! I know they’re right-handed, they always hit me with the right one.”

Lan Fan looks like she would have crossed her arms if she wasn’t so determined to cling to the hilt of her sword. “So what?” Whether she or any of the other teenagers will admit it, they’re all hanging to ‘Mo Xuanyu’s’ lips, out of dread or anticipation or both.

“He’s right,” Sizhui says slowly, his face pale. “I remember, when he was in the hall earlier...” His eyes stray toward Wei Wuxian again, a hint of suspicion creeping into his gaze.

Nope, nope, nope ⎯ not if he can help it. The hint’s too obvious, and Jingyi can’t risk jeopardizing Wei Wuxian’s cover ( read : the OOC function for himself, too ). He grabs Sizhui by the shoulder, ignoring the little surprised noise the other makes, and nods towards Madam Mo. “We should check on her state."

He can pinpoint the exact moment Sizhui sees what he’s meant to see : the disproportionate fingers of her left hand, thicker and longer than they should be, calloused like a wealthy mistress’ would never be. “Grab her!” he shouts.

Tao Ming and another few boys surge forward, seizing Madam Mo’s arms and twisting them behind her back in a hold most people would struggle to break out of, let alone a rather frail, middle-aged woman. For a moment, everything feels like it’ll be alright, until her arm snaps back in a humanly impossible angle and shoots towards Sizhui, who stands poised over her with a talisman in hand.

Jingyi moves before he can think. Later, he will remember spell-embroidered robes and the protective patterns woven into the fabric, but right then there is only Sizhui, the ghost hand about to tear out his throat, and his own lack of impulse control.

He almost screams when the corpse slams against his shoulder, biting down on his lip to stifle his voice. In Sizhui’s eyes, staring up at him, he can see the reflection of green flames as his tunic bursts into flames. Madam Mo shrieks and lets go, crumpling to the ground in a heap.

Jingyi shrugs off the rest of his ruined outer robe as fast as he can, but half of it has already been burned to a crisp. He throws the remains over Madam Mo’s corpse, but it’s too late : her left arm has detached itself from her body, crawling around like a difform spider, veins and muscles bulging in a grotesque way.

As if waking from a haze, the other Lan disciples wriggle out of their own robes, ball them up and throw them at the ghost hand, engulfing it in a circle of emerald fire. “Sword formation!” Sizhui orders, visibly still shaken. His gaze crosses Jingyi, and he mouths thank you.

Light flashes across the courtyard as they draw their swords, planting them into the dirt in a near-perfect circle. The ghost hand writhes, crashing against the fence again and again. Jingyi can see sweat beading on Lan Fan’s forehead right across from him, her face lit by the glow of her blade, but she’s too focused on pouring spiritual energy into it to keep her hands steady to notice him looking ⎯ or Wei Wuxian sneaking back into the shadows. Good.

When he spots the first signs of corpses moving at the edges of the courtyard, Jingyi screams, “Look out! Let go of the swords!”

A few of the others look ready to protest, but an inhuman roar cuts them short. They move out of the way just fast enough to avoid being trampled by three newly-awakened fierce corpses. There’s little to do but stare as the late Mo family hurls itself at the disembodied arm, tearing at it with nails sharp as knives, teeth protruding like needles from their distorted mouths.

Jingyi makes a move to stand in front of Lan Fan ( as, he assumes, a good big brother should ), but she nudges him aside, leaning forward. She looks...absolutely enthralled?

I mean, good for her.

Despite the apparent entertainment potential of the fight, it quickly becomes clear who’s winning it. Slowly but surely, the fierce corpses are losing ground, tossed around like chiffon dolls, the shocks punctuated with the sinister crack of bones. Jingyi looks anxiously between them and Wei Wuxian, still half-hiding in the dark, ready to distract any of the disciples should they point out the lunatic’s sudden change in attitude.

Just as Madam Mo lurches toward the ghost hand again, a hoarse, wheezing sound tearing from her dead throat, two vibrant notes cut through the air, clear as silver bells. They seem to echo through Jingyi’s very core, stealing the breath from his lungs.

The creatures freeze, cowering.

Around Jingyi, his friends come back to life. Tao Ming almost faints, Lan Fan breathes the biggest sigh of relief Jingyi’s ever heard from anyone, and Sizhui wipes blood off his face, beaming. “Hanguang-jun!”

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #lan jingyi #lan sizhui #zhuiyi #mdzs fic #kim's fics #transmigrator!ljy

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mojoflower · 6 years ago

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Teen Wolf mpreg fic recs (99% Sterek, 1% Steter)

I know that you love me, even when I lose my head by LunaCanisLupus 22 E, 136k, Complete. “We’re not mates, Cora,” he insists. “I mean look at him-“ // “Ouch,” the kid says, no longer pushing that shit eating grin. // “He’s- he’s,” Derek tries, at a loss of how to explain why this can’t be possible. Why it shouldn’t be possible. // Or the one where Derek gets attacked by hunters, ends up with amnesia and forgets Stiles is his mate.

Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Stiles, Alpha Derek, but Stiles is a BAMF, BAMF Stiles, presumably Actual Derek is also a bamf, but College Derek is pretty useless, Heh heh

Wow, this story just grabbed me and didn't let me go and now it's the end of a full day and I have no excuse for abandoning everything except that I was really involved and enjoying the plot. // Stiles is such a fucking badass, I love this, he's super-smart and strategizes and handles everything that comes up like a pro and it's totally easy to see why they have such a large and powerful pack. 'College Derek', meanwhile, is a complete sexist asshole (with the whole Alpha/omega thing) who says some super hurtful things in the first half out of sheer ignorance mostly -- although occasionally it's spite. Stiles handles it as well as he can, trying to hide that it hurts and striking back because he has backbone for god's sake... but his bondmark is slowly fading and that's terrifying and tragic. // Meanwhile, the Silva pack is due to arrive with some manifest bad intentions, and Peter is lurking around stirring up trouble, and it's a really fucking bad time for Derek to not remember who he is, because it makes their pack vulnerable. // Great story.

The Lighthouse Keeper by tugela54 E, 75k, Complete. On a rural island just off Alaska’s northern Inside Passage, stands a centuries old lighthouse - the perfect sanctuary for its keeper to hide when the moon is full, to burn and rage through its cycle with the townsfolk being none the wiser. // But then a new resident comes to Beacon Harbour – a bright-eyed young student chasing an elusive whale species – and all of a sudden those thick stone walls seem paper thin…

Bottom Stiles, Like Whoa,

Whoa, that was an intense climax, I'm kinda breathless. Great story. Stiles is earnest and funny (and sooo hot for the giant, hairy, handsome man -- when author says size difference they are not messing around and it's mentioned frequently) and Derek is monosyllabic and awkward. They figure it out eventually, and there is hot sex (did I say size difference and hirsuteness?). Laura's a great werewolf-sister (Derek is the only werewolf) and her son Seth is a cutie. The cast of characters (Chris, Jordon, Finstock, Angus, Gladys and the two First People Miriam and Jonah) are interesting and fleshed-out. Love the plot, and the take on Derek's werewolf (not Teen Wolf style), love the First People lore and rituals, love the setting waaay up in Alaska on this tiny island. // (Don't let Major Character Death tag scare you, you're gonna be just fine.)

Hey Lover, I Got a Sugarcane by pibroch (littleblackdog) Steter, E, 17k, Complete. [References to Mpreg rather than straight-up #mpreg] “Put Peter on the phone,” Stiles says, too sharp to be polite. // “What?” Derek sounds completely thrown. “Stiles, I don’t think— Okay, you’re obviously not understanding what’s happening here. Peter isn’t talking. He’s basically just growling at this point, and he’s rounding on anyone that gets too close. He actually bit me when I tried to take back my pillow. I nearly lost a thumb.” // “Derek.” The reality of this shitshow of a situation is finally kicking in, undeniably, and Stiles needs to hear Peter’s voice. “Just trust the omega, okay? Tell him it’s me, and give him the damn phone.” // ---"Wrangling Rut-Drunk Alpha Boyfriends 101" by Stiles Stilinski, omega and responsible adult person.

I've loved other things I've read by this author

Delicious. And also funny.

I've Got A Sure Thing by skoosiepants T, 11k, Complete. Stiles's water breaks ten miles outside of Beacon Hills.

Fox Stiles, Werefox Stiles, Daddy Stiles

Precious: I love the style, it tumbles and tumbles over itself. Stiles is himself. Derek keeps hanging around, and he loves little Princess Leia. Cora keeps laughing at them. Stiles might be a little confused.

******

He calls Derek and says, “I think your entire family is here, dude,” and Derek roars, “What?” and, “Don't call me dude, “ and, “Fuck, I'll be right over.”

Derek shows up in his EMT uniform and with his partner Boyd, stoic and amused, and the wild look in Derek's eyes is probably as close to a panic as Stiles will ever see him in.

Derek says, “Oh my god, Laura,” and grabs for Prin just as Prin launches herself out of Laura's arms toward him. He swings her up in a practiced movement and settles her on his hip and Laura grins so wide her fangs are showing.

“The pack wanted to meet her, even Mom's here,” she says, gesturing toward a big black wolf that looks almost exactly like Derek in wolf form – the wolf lifts her head and sneezes at them, then goes back to nosing through Stiles's DVD collection.

“Mom,” Derek says, and holds Prin up so she hides his face. Prin tugs at his hair and knees him in the eye and giggles when he shoves her up so her tummy is balanced on the top of his head, it's so cute Stiles can hardly stand it, his life is insane.

“Okay,” Stiles says, clapping his hands together, “I'll make tea.”

I don't think that means what you think it means by ThroughTheTulips M, 21k, 7 works, Complete. Ever notice how aliens have mostly similar customs to humans in Stargate? There never seem to be words or concepts that just don't translate. For the most part that makes sense given how they were spread deliberately across the universe, but there should be more weird stuff. // So I made some. This is very fluffy and ridiculous. Enjoy.

I simply can't with this. What an unanticipated, hysterical delight.

I Know Where Babies Come From, Derek by DiscontentedWinter E, 52k, Complete (series is 132k of deliciousness) [Implied Mpreg, rather than actual #mpreg]. Stiles finds a baby on the porch. // It looks exactly like him. // Well, this is awkward.

Favorite, read again, still a favorite

Funny and unique and gripping (and there's one part that's simply fucking heartbreaking, god every.time. I bawl like a baby). I love this so much. It's totally one of my return-again-and-again-comfort-fics (even though there's very little that's slow-paced and domestic about it).

monday i can fall apart but by friday i'm in love by tryslora M, 6k, Complete. It's just past five in the morning and Stiles is barely awake, wearing only sleep pants that hang low below his pregnant belly, and he can't get the damned brand new jar of decaf coffee open. But he has a neighbor, and he's too tired to think that waking someone else up at this hour might not be the best (or politest) of ideas.

Alpha Derek, Omega Stiles, Caretaking,

lol. short and funny and sweet and Alpha!Derek is a caretaker (and pregnant omega!Stiles is a sass-spewing dork)

finger on the trigger and all fired up by tryslora E, 6k, Complete [Implied Potential Mpreg rather than #mpreg]. Derek goes undercover to expose a drug trafficking ring running inside of a porn studio. What he finds is Stiles.

Hot and funny.

I'm Not Immune by moodwriter E, 24k, Complete. “Did they inject anything into you? You can hold me back. You can stop me. I can’t stop you.” Stiles is in full blown panic mode now. // The one where Stiles and Derek get kidnapped, and sex needs to happen for reasons.

Great story, grows as it's written. Follows a lot of emotional development, tangled in the godawfulfucking situation they're trapped in.

Fire, Fury, and Flame by IAmAVeronica E, 125k, Complete. Stiles Stilinski was never going to be the omega who got knocked up right after high school, and then he's accidentally artificially inseminated with a stranger's sperm. // Awesome. // And the father of Stiles's baby just so happens to be Derek Hale. Half-feral, quite possibly a murderer, and pursued by a gleefully sadistic band of hunters who are only too eager to use Stiles and his baby to hit Derek right where it hurts. // Joy.

Omega Stiles, Alpha Derek, Mpreg, Kidnapping, Stalking, cultural ramifications of a/b/o

So, Stiles, the omega-rights activist who never wants anything to do with an Alpha and wants to avoid any of that biological imperative bullshit, winds up pregnant a la Jane the Virgin. BUT. Derek is unwilling to commit, or even to have Stiles tell anyone who the baby-Daddy is. This could be because a complete psychopath has him in her targets.

Kate is one fuck-scary villain, just, crazy as a bag of cats and vicious with it, and the filth that comes out of her mouth is truly chilling.

Stiles gets kidnapped pretty early on, which is frightening enough, and then she's back for another try. At that point, he's kidnapped again, this time by Derek, who whisks him across the country to the Preserve, a werewolf compound in Maine. Here, Stiles is the only human, pregnant and vulnerable and trying to make a temporary life until the baby is born. But will it only be temporary?

There's love, sociopolitical musings, lots of angst, lots of danger. The baby is born about 3/4 of the way through the story, and then Kate comes around to terrorize everyone again. Even though Derek and Stiles are living in a house that's reinforced with bars and a panic room, she still manages to nearly burn Stiles and the baby…

Rescue Me (& Take Me In Your Arms) by tumtatumtum E, 34k, Complete (series is 37k so far). Just when Stiles is starting to reach panic-attack levels of stress, a leather jacket and firm thigh are pressed right up next to him, and an arm is casually thrown over his shoulder. Stiles looks up to thank this kind person who is saving his life, and suddenly forgets what air is. // Because HOT. DAMN. Call the police and the fire-man, this guy is smoking. // Or the AU where Derek helps save Stiles from an ex, and a steamy BDSM relationship ensues- with feelings all over the place.

Fake/Pretend Relationship, Sub Stiles, Dom Derek

Whoooaa, Nellie. Strap in for a ride, folks. Hot and also hilarious, which is a difficult combo to achieve. Loads of D/s sexy times. Stiles is precious. Derek is possessive and a wee bit insecure. They're awful fun to watch together. ***The one where Stiles is Alpha Mate which magically means he starts leaking slick outta his ass, even tho he's human.

*******

[Kept trying to find this fic using key words bar and boyfriend and ex-boyfriend... which finally got me there. It's SO worth a re-read or ten.] I also tagged it with fake/pretend relationships, since it's fake for about the first 5 minutes, until Derek puts his hand on the back of Stiles' neck and Stiles moans and MELTS and lo, romantic and sexual interest is born.)

It's a mad, mad world by ElisAttack E, 74k, Complete [No #mpreg] "They call him the Feral Wolf." The man laughs hysterically as Stiles backs away from him, fear coursing through his veins. "Feral Hale. Do you know why? Huh?" The man creeps closer, testing the restraint of his chains, white talcum falling from his skin, swirling in the air like the dust devils plaguing the wasteland. "Because he's fucking mad." // Or the one where Stiles is a prisoner looking to return home, but to do so, he may have to rely on a questionable drifter.

Really enjoyed this. Very interesting take on alpha/omega, haven't seen it before. And yay for apocalyptic mad max-type world. Scary as fuck.

a little advice for aspiring fires by The Byger (Byacolate) E, 42k, Complete. Regardless of his sadly lacking social circle, Stiles was going to have to get some physical contact or he was going to explode. Seriously. It’d be messy and Derek would probably become even more emotionally constipated having to clean up little bits of Stiles from his pristine walls and furniture.

Touch-Starved, Skin Hunger, Omega Stiles, Sassy Stiles, stiles talks CONSTANTLY, Mpreg, Kidfic

But We're Still Sleeping Like We're Lovers by CharWright5 E, 110k, Complete [No #mpreg]. There are several things Stiles Stilinski knows to be facts: he's a werecoyote like his parents; his twin sister Malia could use a filter more than him; he's an Omega and terrified of his upcoming heat; and Derek Hale-McCall will never see him as anything more than his kid brother's best friend. Doesn't stop Stiles from asking the Alpha to help him during his heat. Or from developing some serious feelings that go beyond the bedroom. Basically, he's totally screwed, in more ways than one.

Fox Stiles, Creature Stiles, he's not a fox, but when I'm cruising that tag, I'll like to read this story

Idiot boys. Hot sex. More idiot boys. Angst. Fluff.

Jurisdiction by elisera M, 7k, Complete (series complete at 20k). John is a pretty level-headed guy. He wasn’t always, back during his own Sturm und Drang period, but he married a firecracker of a woman and got a kid with an affinity for trouble like he got payed for ending up in it, so someone had to level out or they would’ve ended up living in a treehouse or Lapland doing god knows what. Anyway, getting a hold of his temper is one of John’s better life achievements. It makes him a good sheriff and it kept him from blowing his lid too badly those last two years when Stiles started acting out in a way that John had never seen before. // But the temper is still there. // He’s reminded of it when he comes home on a random Saturday in March after spilling his milkshake all over his uniform shirt only to notice he didn’t have a spare in the station and finds Stiles bend over the kitchen sink with hunched shoulders.

Papa Stilinski is a total badass and mmm mmmm mmmm, so is Derek. Stiles has got some awesome muscle looking out for his best interests.

Into Something New by marguerite_26 E, 9k, Complete. [Implied Mpreg rather than #mpreg]. Something is happening to Stiles. He’s losing time. Something is messing with his head, with his body. Maybe if he felt better he’d think to be worried.

Nowhere Man by 1lostone E, 76k, Complete. [Mpreg (off screen)] When Stiles leaves Beacon Hills, he does it without a backwards glance. For two years he is happy on the other side of the country- until someone targets not only him, but his daughter. // Unfortunately, the asshole bodyguard his dad hired to make sure he gets back home is none other than Derek Hale. And that's really not very good for either of them.

1lostone is, as always, the goddess of the lengthy, painful, disturbing, angsty, violent, sexy story. God, I love it.

The Second Coming (of Werewolf Jesus) by lupinus, uraneia E, 40k, Complete. Stiles was enjoying his senior year until his crazy English teacher decided he made the best candidate to gestate Derek's kid. Now Stiles is a seventeen-year-old pregnant dude and he and Derek have to figure their shit out, because in nine months they are going to be tied together for the rest of their lives.

Sweet: very fluffy and domestic.

Pride and Place by DarkAthena (seraphim_grace) E, 63k, Complete. (Part of series A/B/O bodice rippers) [Mpreg, Discussion of mpreg, no men were pregnant in the making of this fic]. Derek Hale, Earl of Osterbrook, has inherited, following the death of Lord Montfort, a run down house in Yorkshire he neither needs nor wants, convinced his staff are robbing him, and with the mystery of a missing ward, he manages to get himself talked into a ridiculous bet, that he cannot pass as a steward until Midwinter, nearly two months away. So can he maintain the charade? Find the missing child? and manage to turn the shambles of a house around, or will he give up and let Peter take the thousand pounds he bet. // now with explicit epilogue - the rest of the story is teen rated though, so if you don't like the idea of explicit sex in your bodice rippers - just don't read that bit.

Great story.

The Well of Living Waters by kalpurna E, 30k, Complete. King Derek takes a consort.

Within His Power by NoBezel E, 69k, Complete. [Discussion of mpreg] Derek is a wolfish cyborg, brother of the Governor of California, heir to the Hale fortune. Stiles is a un-sequenced human in a world of designer DNA. When Derek is forced to choose a mate, no one expects him to choose Stiles. To be fair, Derek doesn't expect him to say no.

Pretty fucking phenomenal. Lots of world-building and political intrigue. If you're in it for the tropes, you'll be disappointed, but otherwise it's intense and dense and lovely.

The Threat of Human Sacrifice by vampireisthenewblack E, 45k, Complete. The sheriff bought a crib and made Derek help him put it together. Stiles thought of Hemingway and the shortest, most heartbreaking story ever told, and dismantled it on his own while Derek was out. // [The one where Stiles getting knocked up is the least of his worries.]

So excellent and intense.

The Honey and the Sting by the_ragnarok M, 19k, Complete (series still wip) Derek didn't remember what happened when he went into heat. He could only assume the worst. The truth may be stranger than that.

Beautiful.

Tiny Houses by ohmyjetsabel E, 77k, Complete. "So this is what Stiles does. He lies in Scott’s bed and waits for Melissa to say she’s found someone to get it out of him, to cure him of the wrongness and the bad, and he dreams. // God, he dreams. // He dreams of fire and swollen bellies and that scene in Alien, of giving birth to jackals through his urethra, the whole horrific nine yards. His head is a terrible place to be, he can’t imagine his stomach is much better, why anyone would want to put a thing inside of it."

Fuck.

Shifts by gryvon E, 15k, Complete. Stiles has what he's always secretly wanted - he's in a relationship with Derek and he's one of Derek's betas - but all that gets turned upside down when Gerard kidnaps him and his unexpected baby.

Who doesn't want Stiles having emotionally confusing sex with Derek, getting knocked up unbeknownst to either of them, and then kidnapped for the future baby? I mean, really. It's classic.

A Mating Moon by unpossible E, 37k, Complete. (Series 55k so far.) [this is not mpreg, just to be clear] “Hey, Scott, so, I uh, there’s this amazingly hot guy and I’m uh, gonna spend the weekend with him but, you know, just to be careful, I’m sending you his picture, so if by some terrible chance my bloated corpse shows up sometime Monday, just, y’know pass this along to the authorities.” He pauses. “Uh. Kidding?” and then hangs up with a rush of air. // “That is the worst voicemail in the history of voicemails,” Derek says.

fucking fantastic

(Once in a) Blue Moon by clarkoholic, skywardsmiles E, 60k, Complete. (Series 63k so far.) Stiles and Derek are getting along, but they’re not a family, and they’re sure as hell not mates. Christ, they’re basically just two stupid guys who happened to get pregnant because of a full moon and sheer dumb luck.

Oh, the angst, the pining, the guilt, the blame, the anger. Total pain-fest while we watch Stiles nearly die from the burden of the pregnancy. Lovely sweet ending, of course.

Tried and Tested Series by dancinbutterfly E, 53k, 12 works, Complete. In which Derek has a sex emergency with unplanned results, Stiles could be the baby daddy on one of those horrible MTV pregnancy shows, Sheriff Stilinski takes in strays and life in Beacon Hills never has a dull moment, not even when things are calm.

Really wonderful series. Stopped at Part 11, so am waiting for updates. A good investment of time, even incomplete. ;D // [Huh, evidently I missed an update somewhere along the line!]

In the Solstice of our Hearts by ravingrevolution E, 73k, Complete. "You're not putting that up your butt," Scott told him flatly and Stiles couldn't stop the pissed off whine he made, but his friend continued. "Stiles, you can't put that up your butt, you know that. Your butt won't be ready for anything to go in it until-" // "Okay, okay!" he said, flailing his hands to stop his friend's lecture. "Message received, no butt stuff until I'm pounced on by some freaking animal in the forest and ravished to within an inch of my life. Got it. Thanks, Scotty, I mean heaven forbid I actually try to take control of my life and give myself a fighting chance or anything." // "Not all alphas are animals," Scott said quietly. // Maybe he was right, but Stiles wasn't holding his breath.

Omega Stiles, Berserk Stiles, omega beast, everyone's a virgin, Hurt/Comfort, care taking

The one where there's a Mate Run in the woods, and Derek with his pack manage to frighten Stiles up a tree from whence he falls and is impaled on a branch (ouch!) and then they spend a week in a cave while Stiles heals. Meanwhile, Kate and her cronies are sneaking into the month-long Mate Run with the intent to a)finally kill Derek and b) sneakily bond with some omegas. So Stiles goes berserk, which is the omega form of a hulking violence monster, to protect Derek. (Story could have stopped there, but carries on for another 1/3.)

#mpreg #mpreg fic rec #mpreg stiles #mpreg sterek #mpreg fic recs #mojo's fic recs #christyimnot #christyimnotred

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randomingoftherandomness · 6 years ago

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Gab’s Top 10 Shows [June 2019]

So, if you have followed my blog for a bit, you’d know that I watch a bit (and by a bit I do mean quite a lot) of shows. I should have done a list like this earlier, but like, here we are. And these are my Top 10 shows as of June 2019. Might do another one of these if the world doesn’t explode by December.

10. HIStory3: Trapped (Line TV/Choco TV) - If I know anything, I know that I am always up for more positive LGBT rep in Asian media. I adored every moment I spent with this, and yes, there’s still miles to go in terms of addressing some of the issues faced by the Asian LGBT, I am happy with what I got with this one. It is definitely ‘bolder’ than its predecessors. Important to note though: the acting is a bit hammy, and there is an assault scene that never truly gets resolved satisfactorily, but if you can live with these, give this one a shot.

9. Brooklyn Nine Nine Season 6 (NBC) - Let me just start this off by saying that I love the way the B99 fandom came together and got the Godfathers of the Nine Nine involved, which culminated in their pick up by NBC. This season was consistently funny and heart-wrenchingly good; tackling both the light hearted moments and the serious moments/topics with equal grace, and they definitely did not miss a beat at all. I cannot wait to see what Season 7 brings.

8. Tidying Up With Marie Kondo (Netflix) - This show changed. My. Life. I’m not being dramatic when I say that I watched the first half of the first episode and watched the rest of the show in the middle of the innards of my closet. This isn’t just a show about home improvement or whatever, and Marie Kondo isn’t about telling you to throw everything away, but only to take your time to recognise the things that make you happy. It is a lesson that I think we can all carry on to every aspect of our lives.

7. The Umbrella Academy (Netflix) - Okay, deadass as a kid who came of age in the noughties, knowing that Gerard Way (the Gerard Way! Who was the soundtrack of many an angst sesh in my room!) was having his work being made into a series? It was everything to me. This show was a wild and fun and at times, heartbreaking ride. It makes you pause to evaluate the relationships you have in your life; whether your influence and presence in others is a positive one or not. But honestly, it’s not that deep. I just loved watching all the violence and the crazy shit that hit the fan.

6. Love, Sex & Robots (Netflix) - Now, this here was one that I didn’t expect to like. An anthology series from Netflix which is somewhat taking a play out of Black Mirror’s playbook, all the episodes are animated (or in the case of Ice Age, semi-animated) to great effect. Thought provoking, dark, and at times, horrifying, there were some that didn’t do it for me, then there were some that I have rewatched at least thrice since (see Good Hunting, Suits and The Secret War).

5. A Discovery of Witches (Sky One) - Another adaptation and this time from Deborah Harkness’ All Souls trilogy (which you should check out if you have the time). Between Matthew Goode low polished growl and the view of the dreaming spires of Oxford, this was everything I had envisioned the book to be, come to life. There isn’t a spare moment in this show. Everything was dream woven and I adored how fleshed out everything feels, considering Season 1 only had 8 episodes.

4. Star Trek: Discovery Season 2 (Netflix) - This season broke me. It fucking broke me into pieces and then reassembled me again. Many tears were shed whilst watching this. It expanded the Star Trek mythos in such wonderful ways, making us fall in love with the Discovery crew and making us root for them, giving us such wonderful representation of humanity and compassion, empathy and love in all its facets, in all its forms. I could wax lyrically about this all day, so if Season 1 was a bumpy ride for as it was for me, give it another go, and do yourself a favour and watch this.

3. Good Omens (Amazon Prime) - Look, I’ll be the first to admit it, but when I heard that they were making a Good Omens TV adaptation, I was on the fence about it. For me, my Crowley and Aziraphale were Peter Serafinowicz and Mark Heap from the radio adaptation, and I still believe that Peter would’ve knocked Crowley out of the park even though I had the highest of faith in David Tennant. I fell in love with this from the get go, and I am so supremely glad that I got to watch it. The first half of Episode 3 is a particular favourite, and I loved the rather ominous hint at the end of the series. Should they opt to do a Season 2, I wouldn’t be against it at all.

2. Dark (Netflix) - I’ve seen this show being recommended to me for awhile now, and I’d put off watching it. I regret that. It’s a masterpiece, this show. Everything is connected and if you take your eyes off for even a second, you are going to be doing connect the dots Charlie Day meme style. This show forces you to question everything, to pay attention, to be aware. I find myself having to consciously will myself to do tasks, and to exist outside the need and urge to bury and drown myself in Dark. Season 3 cannot come any sooner. I don’t think I have felt so strongly about a show like this in awhile now and I cannot find it in myself to temper the burning urge to consume any and all fanmade media and interact with everyone in the Dark fandom for theory crafting and/or just to scream about my feels because I’m unfortunately very alone here haha... Super sidenote, and unpopular opinion, but Dark > Stranger Things. Everyone is sleeping on this show and it’s about time y’all woke up.

1. Chernobyl (HBO) - If you don’t watch anything else from this list, if you don’t watch anything else this year, watch this. I will scream it from the mountain tops, and I will die on this hill, watch. This. Show. Jared Harris was tragically divine and wonderful, and Stellan Skarsgard was exquisite and brilliant, and if this show doesn’t get its dues from all its peers during awards season, I will fucking flip. This show is a one in a lifetime kind of thing, and everyone from the actors to the writers to the set designers did their jobs with such respect and deference to the actual 1986 Chernobyl event, and I cannot tell you how wonderful it is to have a satisfying conclusion to a narrative (yes, I am shading Game of Thrones). I feel so strongly about this show. It is horrifying to watch. It is soul gripping. It is the story of sacrifices made, and the price of lies and the cost of truth. It is a story of the common people and the ones who paid the price for what is right. It’s not the highest rated show on IMDB for no reason.

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valiant-noble-soul · 6 years ago

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Mun, whats your opinion on FMA 03 vs FMA:B? Do you like one better? Do you like them both? I would like to hear your thoughts!

~I think they’re both wonderful shows! A lot of people like to argue on which is the ‘good’ version, but I feel like they both have their strengths and weaknesses. Allow me to break them down for you:

03 FMA

TRIUMPHS

>Better character development. This is due to the fact that the 03 series is less story-driven, so it has plenty of room for filler. This time is spent making sure every character is studied in-depth, including the villains. Backstories are explored, self-view is brought into question, and when someone has a change of heart, it’s well-earned and never feels out of place. That’s not to say that Brotherhood doesn’t have development as well, but there’s much less time dedicated to it.

>More brotherly moments. I’ll be honest guys, when it comes to shipping, I’m pretty indifferent to all of them. The one relationship that makes me squeal and hug myself is the love between Ed and Al .They’re so different in every sense of the word, but they would die for one another in a heartbeat. Neither drags the other down. It’s very clear how much the two need each other, especially in this version of the story. It’s filled with small moments of brotherly love that just makes me melt. This is something that I sadly found a little lacking in Brotherhood.

>Better soundtrack. Not that there’s anything wrong with the Brotherhood music, but wow the songs in 03 gives me chills! The tunes are so haunting, always reaching inside me and clutching my heart in a tight grip. In fact, it always brings me to last moments of the series where I spent a crushing night wondering what the hell I just watched and how was I going to survive the pain? I like Brotherhood’s music, especially with the openings and closings, but the score in 03 is the one that had the biggest emotional impact on me.

FAILS

>Unfocused plot. While it was good to see a lot of the filler being used to develop characters, I can’t say every second was used wisely. A lot of episodes were dedicated to either stretching out a situation as long as they could, or showing Ed and Al going on a random adventure. Now the latter isn’t so bad if you don’t mind waiting five episodes to get back on to the main event. Now I love watching the brothers at work, so I enjoyed the episodes, but half the time I wasn’t entirely sure what the brothers were striving for. What was the overall plot? Were we still looking for the Philosopher’s Stone? Are we going to do anything about the homunculi soon? Sometimes you just have to be really patient with this show and not everyone is going to be willing to do that.

>In hindsight, the homunculi don’t make a lot of sense. Now don’t get me wrong, I like the idea behind this version of our sinful baddies. They are what’s created when a human transmutation is attempted. They start out as ghastly figures, but after they feast on red stones, they begin to take on human forms. However, when you stop to think about it, there’s a lot of questions to this concept that needs answers. Why are they all named after sins? Are there others out there? Are you telling me human transmutation was attempted only seven times and then never again? In the entire history of alchemy? Why wasn’t Sloth....well, slothful? These are just a few of the questions that made the concept feel like it wasn’t thought out as carefully as it should have been.

>It took a nosedive on how dark it got near the end. Okay, now this one is based on personal preference. There had always been dark elements to FMA of course. It started with the Elrics bringing back their dead mother, only to have their bodies torn apart after all. But near the end....woah. Suddenly it was giving AoT a run for its money! Believe me when I say the death count was just stacking up by the end. And don’t even get me started on what happened to Rose. Like where the hell did that come from??? And to have the brothers separated at the end? Look, I didn’t know Shamballa was a thing at the time! I thought they were separated for good. I think I spent the night staring at my ceiling, wondering how I was ever going to nurse my heart back to health. It just felt like all the fun and adventure was sucked out and replaced with, quite frankly, the darkest material I’ve seen in a long time. Usually I’m cool with that, but not when it comes to my Elric bros, thank you.

Brotherhood

TRIUMPHS

>More fun characters. Funny with all the characters 03 introduced in their filler, the ones I find more enjoyable are the ones in Brotherood. Mei, Yao, Father, Selim/Pride, they were all a lot more fun to watch. Even our main cast seemed more interesting, such as Hoenheim playing a more heroic role in his departure, rather than just having him leave because his body was rotting away. While I don’t feel like many characters were covered more in-depth than in the 03 series, I do feel like the writing gave them enough material to capture our hearts and attention regardless.

>More balanced, thought-out plot. You certainly don’t have to worry about anything dragging on in this version of FMA. The plot is brilliantly thought out, starting as a simple promise between two boys, and ending with a battle against a godlike figure for the sake of the country. Plus, this version has the right balance of drama and humor, and it doesn’t forsake the other at any point either. It never becomes too silly to take seriously or too dark to find joy in. It’s a story filled with hope and strength that will leave you feeling warm all over.

FAILS

>Emotional development can sometimes be skipped/rushed. All the problems with Brotherhood can pretty much be summarized by this. Equivalent exchange, my friends. In order to give us a better-paced anime, the show had to gloss over moments that needed to have a little more time to grow. The prime example that comes to mind is during Al’s existential crises. I’ve seen three different versions of the key-point (live-action, 03, and Brotherhood), and I have to say the Brotherhood version is actually my least favorite take on it. It’s such a huge and tragic issue that needs to be explored, but the show decided to wrap it up in the span of five minutes and then never bring it up again. Not only does this rob us of a moment that should leave us reaching for our tissues, but it also removes some of Al’s development as a character.

Another scenario that comes to mind is when the brothers reach the end of their journey and Al finally retrieves his body. Am I the only one who felt like something was missing at the end there? Like, here was, back in the flesh for the first time for almost half a decade, and all we got from the brothers emotionally was...smiles? This should’ve been the most heartwarming moment of the entire series! They should’ve cried, held each other, high-fived, something! Well, as my friend @alchemic-elric once told me, by this point the story was no longer about the brothers, at least not completely. Everyone’s story was fleshed out to a point where there were many loose ends to tie up, leaving no time to put extra focus on the brothers. This is great in terms of story-telling. Not so great for my Elric bros. BROTP heart though....

I wish there was some way to combine the development of 03 with the plot structure of Brotherhood. Then I think we would have the perfect FMA. Both series have their ups and downs, but if I had to choose a favorite, I would have to go with Brotherhood. It does deliver on everything, even if it’s not always to the extent 03 does. This doesn’t mean I consider 03 a bad series. Far from it! I highly recommend it for anyone who hasn’t seen it yet, especially if you just want some time to watch your favorite characters do their own thing. Just be prepared for a darker, grittier version of the story. The ride will be beautiful, but quite painful.~

#asks #mun answers

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cygnuswheel · 6 years ago

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he’ll always be ready at the drop of a hat. however, oscar hasn’t even remotely been interested in wearing any kind of headgear, no matter how cold and murderous the world is.

hm.

so perhaps they’re about to die.

through vertigo and panic, the effort it takes to push past such intense and nauseating emotions is a considerable one, but doable nonetheless. with practice, he focuses on the area around them, surveys the angle of their unfortunate vehicle, and frowns to himself.

if anything, oscar is doing relatively well when it comes to steering, seeing how the only thing that he recalls the boy being able to drive is a tractor. atlas airships are quite a ways off from all things familiar back at home, and it shows with the unwilling twitch of his hands and the rush of blood past freckled ears.

he’s too slow. if he had just grabbed onto the stick and pulled back, they could have avoided the whole shoreline altogether. the boy’s heart is beating much too fast for logic to come before emotion here, something that ozpin finds a bit relieving, even if this is hardly the time for it. ( it’s something that oscar would surely scold him for, if he had half the mind to pay attention to what was happening in his head right now. oz can’t help but snort at the amusement of it. )

the ex-headmaster could fall into place right now, drag himself out of whatever ditch he’s holed himself up in for the past few weeks and just do what’s natural. it would have been too easy to reach forward, grab ahold of oscar’s hands and use them as his own if he wanted to steer them out of danger. but the child wouldn’t like that, would he? after all, it was his body, he should at least be asked before any funny soul business went down. something about the prospect makes ozpin frown.

at this point in time, if he asked, oscar would surely say yes and give him full reign. desperation and fear can make even the most infuriating propositions appear as if they came from the holy saints above. it should be an easy decision for the entity; this ship is their way to atlas, and there are two innocent passengers on board that could be killed if even the slightest misstep is made. the lights and sirens of the vehicle are already screeching, in critical position, but as his presence comes to hover above a panicked soul’s to amend the problem, he slows.

stop. rewind a few moments, a few days. faced with the eyes of many a tired and crazed searcher staring him down, oscar smiles and rubs at his neck, saying that he was home and here to stay as long as he could. ( he didn’t know when he was going to disappear, and, frankly? neither did ozpin. everything’s gone wrong since the fall of beacon. he had traveled to another vessel too fast, assimilated the boy to the horrors of the world too fast, reminded the boy that he would no longer be “just oscar” too fast. gods, he’s only 14. how’s that for fair company? ) a gentle flame shines with conviction in hazel eyes, and he feels the boy’s fist tighten and clench when no one is looking, hearing the constant mental mantra of ‘ just keep trying. ‘

that’s something that he had told himself over and over again in his millennia of existence, because trying meant something to someone. even if that someone was just himself. even if that someone was a million years in the future, living happily in peace without ever having heard the name ozma and his pathetic, tragic tale along with it. there was some payoff, somewhere out there, where one’s work would mean something. he’s put these puzzles together far too many times to deny that.

two seconds.

he’ll give oscar two seconds before he asserts his presence to salvage the airship at the last possible moment. two seconds to recollect himself from absolute terror and alarm and drag himself out of this mess. ( even with all of his moping and sulking, it seems that, even here, ozpin can’t help himself but lean towards being an educator, a teacher. the boy has to learn if he wants to stand on his own two feet, doesn’t he? ) the child’s heart is beating out of his chest, his teeth clenched together and hands gripping at the steering stick for dear life.

one and a half seconds.

browsing through the kid’s mind, ozpin sees the process of oscar trying to write his own will. the feather pen has been dipped in ink and the parchment lay on the table, waiting for his jurisdiction, but it’s no use. the boy is stone still. he doesn’t know what he wants to do after he dies. ( he shouldn’t have to. he’s so, so small. but there’s nothing that oz can do about it. the gods had taught him that. )

one second.

the treeline is so much closer now. no one can see how the people on the cliffside are reacting, but ozpin can at least begin to guess how their reactions look. ( a particular set of red eyes strikes a pang in his core, making the frown descend into a scowl. ) there’s still time, and there’s still belief. he doesn’t want to pull the plug just yet, not here, not yet. there’s time.

is there time?

half a second.

oscar’s eyes are still wide as saucers, mouth still slightly agape in a silent scream. if he doesn’t die from the crash, surely he’ll fall from an anxiety attack or something. ozpin wants to comfort him, encourage him, but talking in a moment like this would be deadly. they’d never even be able to get an argument in before theyre all scattered as flesh and blood among the metal and shrapnel, with himself rising elsewhere to another damned human being.

a tenth of a second.

ozpin closes his eyes, sighs with the combined fatigue of tens of thousands of poor souls, before reaching out and--

--he watches as oscar pulls up.

there are many bumps and tumbles during the descent, but it’s here where ozpin, completely unharmed by whatever was going on with the boy, finds himself in a daze. oscar holds firmly, the flame returned to his gaze as he skirts and grazes past trees with the grace of a seal on land. it’s not pretty, but with split second calculations, ozpin can see that the other had just barely managed to pull off the perfect maneuver.

he notices that his hand is still hovering over the boy’s own. how... startling. how bold. but with even all of the risk, ozpin can’t find a single injury that oscar hasn’t begun to attend to himself with his aura. he had been completely useless, an airbag that had stalled a tenth a second too slow. huh.

... so that’s who oscar pine is.

there’s still work to do, and ol’ oz knows that, but he’ll sit back for just a bit longer, watching and waiting as the last resort that the boy probably doesn’t even need. ( ‘ we just did it our own way ‘, hm? well played, ruby. ) a sigh. observation. that’s something that he’s good at ( and boy, ozpin does not find those often ). he could manage to look on for a bit longer.

as the world returns, oscar’s eyelids flutter to the sound of a dying machine.

#oscar pine #ozpin #professor ozpin #rwby volume 6 #rwby spoilers #rwby #( two souls. )#[ hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh ]

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