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arwenkenobi48 · 3 years

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The PDF That Saved My Life - Why I Love “All Tomorrows” With All My Heart

(Content Warning: Discussions of trauma, suicidal ideation and sexual abuse)

*clears throat* So, as some of you may be aware, the past few weeks haven’t been easy, not in the least. I was struggling with serious suicidal urges and feeling extreme anguish towards my own body and soul. I believed myself to be tainted, filthy and all manner of destructive and negative things.

The reason behind this breakdown was due to the realisation that I had experienced sexual harassment and assault multiple times throughout my life, including an occasion last year in which I was groped by an immediate relative. I had been aware of the incident since it happened, but was in denial. I was thinking “It couldn’t have been that bad, right?” But after trying unsuccessfully to repress it, I had to face the facts that she did what she did. I was heartbroken and I’m still deeply saddened by the realisation. Everything just seemed to fall apart and I psychologically imploded, plummeting into a dark pit of worthlessness and childlike sorrow. I felt as if I had been thrown into a mental oubliette; just tossed away and forgotten about on every level. Whenever I wasn’t bawling my eyes out and grieving my lost innocence, I was stress-eating and lying in bed, feeling nothing. Every now and then, I’d receive a short burst of energy, but nothing substantial, and the feelings remained.

Despite all of that, though, I didn’t want to die. A small part of my mind wanted to hold on and ride out these waves of suicidal thoughts. But I also knew I shouldn’t have to be going through this cycle of building up and breaking down, so I finally managed to seek professional help. There’s another thing that also pushed me towards seeking help and eventually guided me out of this dark place, and that’s the work of science fiction I mentioned in the title. All Tomorrows by C. M. Koseman (I hope I’ve spelled that right).

I don’t remember exactly how I came across it, but I think it was the video by Alt Shift X on YouTube that did it. As you can imagine, my dark thoughts weren’t only directed towards myself, but the world at large. I was wondering how life could be so cruel as to let something so horrific happen to me. I saw the thumbnail of that video and I didn’t know what it was. I had vaguely heard of All Tomorrows, but was more familiar with the much more nihilistic Dougal Dixon book Man After Man, and as such I got the two confused. I clicked on the All Tomorrows video, barely paying much attention and dismissively thinking: “oh great another sci-fi dystopia that predicted humanity’s inevitable downfall”.

What that video showed me absolutely blew my mind. As I discovered C. M. Koseman’s intricate worldbuilding science fiction project, I became fascinated and enthralled by the journeys and evolutions of the various post-human species, from the fun-loving Satyriacs and the mellowed out Snake People, to the bloodthirsty Killer Folk and the horrifying Bone Crushers. Yes, many of the stories were very, very sad. The Mantelopes lost everything and devolved because intelligence was so painful. The Striders, Titans and Temptors were all wiped out before they had the chance to truly reach their full potential. The Qu and Gravitals, one could say, ruined everything. But what truly amazed me was the fact that many, many of these stories also contained great happiness.

The Colonials, for example, suffered through the kind of torture that I wouldn’t wish on the Devil himself. Being wedged together into a wall of flesh bricks, all while retaining intelligence. And yet, they managed to turn into the beautiful Modular People and create a utopian society. Yes, the Killer Folk are traditionally violent, but the ones that made the biggest progress were the ones that chose peace over war. The Satyriacs started off as the mindless Hedonists, but were able to use their intelligence to appreciate every moment of their joyful lives. The lowly Worms became the comfort-loving Snake People, always able to appreciate the little things in life. The flattened Lopsiders rose up from the ground and became the proud, tall Asymmetric People. The list goes on, but you get my point.

The point is, even though this future humanity went through the sort of Hell that makes the past few years look tame by comparison, they always managed to rise up. Sure, nothing was ever quite the same again, but they managed to make something new and wonderful out of that. When you cut an orange, you may not have a whole fruit anymore, but you have lots of slices that can be shared with everyone. The best thing you can do is move forward. The future will always hold something better for you, even if that seems impossible. Don’t be afraid to reach for it. The final quote of this incredible piece of sci-fi wiped away the remnants of dark still clinging to me: “Love today and seize all tomorrows.” To me, that meant “Be a kind soul and you can achieve anything.”

This entire story ignited a strong feeling of empathy within me; an emotion I thought I was too traumatised to ever properly feel or express again. I think that was the point. Sure, the many strange post-humans may not look like us, but we cannot deny that they are human and that brings out the best in us. We shouldn’t be afraid to show empathy for our fellow humans. Thinking lowly of what collectively proves to be our best quality, claiming we’re “above” it and aiming to become “bigger than” everything else deprives us of our humanity. Empathy, compassion, love, that’s what makes us truly powerful. If we can learn to love today, the utopian future we all dream of will finally be ours.

Love is something that, from an early age and for over half my life, I was never truly given. But that doesn’t mean I can’t give it to others. Just as the post-humans were able to move forward and rise from the ashes, I fully intend to do the same. I’m safe now. The people who hurt me are gone from my life and will never hurt me again. I’m surrounded by loving friends, in a city I love, attending a university I love, receiving the therapy I need to heal and soon to be medically transitioning too. Even though I still struggle to accept it, I’m learning to love myself as well. I think that’s the greatest love someone can ever feel. If I continue to love each today that comes, all the tomorrows will be brighter and brighter.

And to think this all started because of a PDF about the hypothetical future of humanity. I’m determined to hold on no matter what. Idk if C. M. Koseman uses tumblr or any other social media for that matter, but if he comes across this somehow, I just want to say “Thank you from the bottom of my heart. I wouldn’t be here today without All Tomorrows.”

https://youtu.be/-WIk29qtrIo

youtube

(PS: I know I have stumbled and made mistakes on my platform as well. I’m still a little bit unsteady after being in such a dark mental state for so long. I’m sorry about that. I am doing better. Thank you all if you made it this far. I love and appreciate every single one of you.)

#arwen speaks #tw: abuse #tw: suicidal ideation #tw: trauma #all tomorrows #personal philosophy #Youtube #science fiction #the future #empathy #the power of love #queue

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cosmiceverafter · 3 years

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20 for the touch asks?

20. bandaging/stitching up an injury

@chamblerstara / @manesalex - sorry this took me so long, but I hope you enjoy it. It was wonderful writing for our boys again. Thank you for the inspiration. ❤

***

I'll take care of you.

Alex missed Michael, which was why he had picked up a 6-pack from the local market and was now standing outside of the alien's trailer even though a windstorm had just passed through Roswell.

They were both single, and any time they were together, the air seemed to grow thick with desire. It was undeniable. Not that Alex wanted to deny it, not anymore.

It was crystal clear at this point that Alex's heart would always belong to Michael. Whether the alien felt the same...well, that's what Alex wanted to find out.

Taking a deep breath, he commanded his feet to step closer to the metal door. With a tap, tap, tap of his knuckles, Alex waited patiently.

After a moment, he heard a shuffle and then something dropping to the ground.

"Michael?" Alex called out, suddenly worried. When he didn't hear a reply, Alex pounded with his fist. "Michael, are you in there? Are you okay?"

Finally, he heard Michael say, "Alex, I'm fine. Just...come back later."

But Michael wasn't okay—Alex could tell by the tone of his hoarse voice. "Open the damn door, Michael."

When he heard a loud curse, the door opened up by itself with the help of his love's powers. It always sent a thrill through Alex to witness it.

Alex took all but two seconds to maneuver his body into the airstream, and that was when he saw Michael huddled over his small bed, shirtless with blood trailing down his back.

"Damn..." Alex hissed out as he took in the sight of the alien's body. He rushed over to Michael.

"I've been working out," Michael quipped, shifting to give Alex a half-grin.

Alex ignored Michael's deflecting. "What the hell happened, Guerin?"

Michael winced as he sat onto the bed, "Nothing. Just a stupid accident. It's fine."

"I swear to God, Michael—"

The alien put his hands up, "Okay, okay, Manes. Don't get your blood pressure cookin'."

Alex frowned, raising an eyebrow, "Well? Tell me."

Michael smirked and tilted his head to the side, "Yea' know, you're pretty sexy when you get in protective control mode."

Alex's heart fluttered, but he shook his head, getting even closer to Michael. "Please, just tell me what happened."

Michael's humorous expression fell. He glanced down at his hand, which Michael had finally uncovered, "I went out in the middle of the desert to analyze my new equipment, and it didn't go according to plan."

"Which equipment would that be?"

"I didn't tell you?" Michael asked, confused.

"No..." Alex answered, feeling put out over that fact. There had been a time not too long ago, where they were working closely together side-by-side. What had changed? And why did it hurt so badly that it was no longer the case?

Michael winced as he twisted his upper body to grab a wet rag. "I am trying to build a device, well, a pod-like type structure to communicate..." He suddenly looked up, and if Alex didn't know any better, embarrassment was showing upon Michael's handsome scruffy face.

"With your kind?"

"Somethin' like that."

With a reassuring smile, Alex sat on the far side of Michael's tiny bed, "That's amazing, Guerin. Any success so far?"

Michael shook his head in disappointment, his curls swaying, "I thought maybe I had gotten somewhere with the damn thing...I heard somethin', but just before I could examine what I was actually catching, that damn windstorm came out of nowhere and blew one of the metal rods directly onto my back."

Shit. "Did it break?"

"Yes, unfortunately. It got pretty messed up." Michael groaned and rubbed his hand over his face, "I clearly won't be attempting it again any time soon."

Michael stood up with a hard sigh and attempted to reach behind his back to wipe the cut.

"Can I help you?" Alex asked before he realized the words were out of his mouth.

Michael tensed but acknowledged Alex with a stiff nod, "Sure. Thanks."

Alex took a deep breath and stood up, taking the rag from Michael, trying to ignore the thrill he felt at their fingers touching. Only Michael made his body come alive like this—Alex never wanted the feeling to disappear.

Gently, Alex touched the rag onto the deep cut, and Michael hissed. "Sorry."

"No, it's fine," Michael responded. "Here, let me turn on a bit more light." With his powers, a lantern slowly illuminated the small space with a glow.

It was the first time, in far too long, that Alex could observe Michael's body properly. In the light, Michael's skin shone as the moon covers the sand with sparkling dust. His beautiful curls twisted and turned, capturing the light as it touched his soft tan neck.

Alex swallowed and demanded his attention to Michael's injury. With deliberate action on his part, Alex wiped the blood away and could see Michael gripping at his jeans. "Maybe we should have Kyle come look at this. You may need stitches."

"Nah, it's late, and the good doctor probably has far more important patients to look after."

But you are important, Alex wanted to say.

"Besides," Michael added, turning his head, looking Alex up-and-down, "I'm obviously in good hands here."

"We'll see about that," Alex replied with a laugh. "It's been some time since I've had to put my first-aid skills to the test."

"But you learned the skills, right?"

"Yup, in the military, we're trained in all areas."

"Mmm," Michael murmured, "no wonder you're so talented with those hands."

This. This right here was what Alex missed. The playful banter between the two, with that suggestive flirting. It came so naturally to them both, and Alex wanted to soak it up like a sponge. "Hush, let me finish."

"Yes, sir," Michael laughed, swirling back around. Michael propped his muscular arms up against the wall in front of him and bowed his head down.

Alex had to keep reminding himself that Michael was injured and now was not the time to think what he was so desperately imagining at that moment. But it was challenging with Michael bent over like that, his backside so close to the front of Alex's pants.

It had been so long since they had been together like that. Only in Alex's dreams did he allow himself to travel into the memory of bliss once more.

"Okay," Alex said, breaking the silence, "can you sit back on the bed?" He cleared his throat, hoping Michael couldn't hear how low his voice had become. "I'm going to bandage you up now."

Michael glanced back at him as if he caught on to Alex's dirty ideas and nodded, "Yup, I can do that." He sat down and pointed to the dresser, "The bandage is in the first drawer."

"Thanks," Alex said, stepping in front of Michael to retrieve the bandage. When he picked it up, Alex noticed a picture underneath.

It was of them, younger in the desert. Alex was holding his guitar, and Michael was smiling as he stared over at him. Alex could remember the exact day, it had been a lovely day between them, and Alex's chest suddenly felt tight.

"You okay?" Michael asked from behind him.

Alex nodded, not trusting his voice as a wave of emotion came over him. The past connected them, and Alex wondered if the future was theirs for the taking or if they would forever remain in the memories.

"Alex?"

Gripping the bandage, Alex turned around, holding the photograph of them in his other hand, "The picture of us in the desert."

"Oh, yeah," Michael's mouth fell open in surprise. "I forgot I put it in there."

"You kept it, after all this time?"

"Of course I did," Michael replied with a shrug. "We don't have many together."

"Well, we should change that," Alex instantly responded.

"Yeah, I think we should." Michael smiled that beautiful smile of his and laughed, "Should we start now? This moment is quite the experience to share with the world—your incredible wrapping skills and my epic loss to the windstorm."

"It would give the people of Roswell something to talk about," Alex added as he joined in with laughter. "That's for sure."

"As if they need more to discuss. Hell, we have enough tourists trying to spot little green aliens!"

Alex smirked, "I'll just add the caption, 'Just wrapping up a cowboy alien, who's anything but green. How's your night going?'"

"Yee-haw! I like it!" Sharing a good laugh, Alex put the picture back into the drawer and closed his eyes, hoping for more moments shared such as these.

Beyond the humor, it wasn't a deep conversation of their future together, but it was, in fact, a door opening.

Feeling a deep sense of relief, Alex finally came back towards Michael and sat behind him. Letting his abilities take over, he started wrapping the bandage around Michael, allowing his fingers to trail over Michael's chest greedily. The light moment between them had shifted; now, another emotion took its place.

Alex pushed up closer to Michael's back, and he could smell Michael's scent: Bourbon, rust, and rain. It was 100% Michael, and it felt like coming home.

Michael sighed and seemed to lean back without even recognizing he was moving. Alex steadied him and peered down at Michael's back. The bandage covered the injury nicely, and Alex's lips hovered just above Michael's skin. He wanted nothing more than to press a soft kiss right there as he had so many times before.

The alien trembled as if he could sense what Alex desired. The invisible string that pulled Alex in was a smooth ride; pulling away was the challenging resistance.

"All finished."

Michael turned to face Alex, and his fingers grazed the back of Alex's hand. "Thank you. I appreciate those gifted hands of yours."

Alex beamed, enjoying the compliment probably a bit too much, "Anytime." He meant it. Alex would always be there for Michael.

They gazed at each other, which felt like an eternity and a flash of a second all in one. It was so easy to get lost in those eyes.

Finally, Michael shook his head and moved away, snapping Alex out of his trance, "Sorry, I didn't even ask why you stopped by tonight."

"I just wanted to see you," Alex answered truthfully. "I even brought you something you like."

"What is that? You?"

Alex blushed, but luckily it was still too dark in the airstream for Michael to witness, "A delicious elixir of sorts." He nodded towards the beer.

"Not as good, but a very close second," Michael laughed as he set his warm hand on Alex's leg. "You're so thoughtful, Manes."

"What can I say? I try to be," Alex said, raising an eyebrow. The flirting was strong tonight, not that Alex was complaining.

"Who knew you'd have to take care of an alien instead?"

"I didn't mind," Alex shrugged. "Truly."

Michael squeezed Alex's leg and bit into his lip. His expression was somewhat changing, "I have something to ask you."

"Okay...shoot."

"Will you help me?"

"I thought I already had." Michael narrowed his eyes, and Alex smirked, "Help you with what, Michael?"

"With my communicator? I can't do it alone, and with my genius of a brain and those magnificently talented hands of yours, I think we could create some magic here." Yes, they could. In more ways than one. Getting serious, Michael looked down at the blanket on his bed, "I should've asked you a while ago."

"You're asking me now. That's what matters," Alex replied. "I would love to help create with you, Guerin."

"That's what I was hoping you'd say."

Alex smiled, feeling love for Michael pour out of his heart. He would create it all with Michael if only given a chance to do so. "While you rest that shoulder of yours, explain your vision, and we'll go from there."

Michael returned the grin and started expressing what he imagined within that brilliant mind of his, never faltering and never losing the gleam in his eyes.

This moment was proof that even though they had been through hell and back, the two of them could face any challenge—weather any storm.

Together, Michael and Alex could conquer the galaxy as long as they had each other.

#malex #malex fic #roswell new mexico #michael x alex #alex manes #michael guerin #tw: injury #this was a lot longer than i intended

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kiingocreative · 3 years

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The Structure of Story is now available! Check it out on Amazon, via the link in our bio, or at https://kiingo.co/book

There are some buzz words everywhere and, in the writing world, and it feels to me like ‘journaling’ is one of them. It’s something everyone seems to be doing.

It took me a while to build a journaling habit, and I wouldn’t say I’m quite there yet with my Journaling discipline, but whatever experience I’ve had with it has been incredibly beneficial.

What’s Journaling?

Back to the old trusted dictionary! Journaling is defined as:

To write in a journal or diary.

Simple, right?

For those of you with a penchant for etymology and random fun facts, the word ‘journal’ comes from the Latin ‘diurnalis’, or ‘diurnus’, meaning ‘daily’. In late Middle English, a journal originally referred to a book containing the appointed times of daily prayers. (If you use this as an ice-breaker at your next dinner party, please let me know!)

Nowadays, journaling is a lot more about keeping track of one’s praying schedule, and much more about recording one’s thoughts in an informal, free-flowing, stream-of-consciousness manner.

It’ll take different forms for different people, and the great thing about it is that (in my view) there isn’t a right or wrong way to journal. The only right way to do it is the way that feels right to you. As with any form of writing, craft or art in general, it’s all about individual preference, and highly subjective. And because Journaling is generally something that remains personal and private, you can do whatever the heck you want with it.

Pretty great, isn’t it?

Why Journaling is Good For You.

Based on my own experience, I’ve found a few benefits to journaling:

Pressure-free writing.

I’ve found that Journaling, because it follows no set rule and isn’t meant to be shared, is a great chance to write without any pressure. To write just because you want to write, with no other agenda than indulging in your love of putting words together on a page.

To me, writing without an outcome in mind is always liberating. It’s a chance to reconnect with your craft in way you might not if there was a clear purpose to it, like writing a book due to be published or a blog article meant to be posted online.

Experiment with your writing.

Journaling is also the perfect format to experiment with your writing, and try your hand at something new. Maybe you normally write fiction, and Journaling is a chance to give poetry a go. Maybe you generally blog, and your journal can start hosting plots and ideas for a novel, regardless of what you make of it later. Maybe you’ll want to try writing exercises—like jotting down ideas from a prompt or in a specific style. Or you could start recording dreams and memories you can remember.

Discomfort is where we grow, so putting yourself in those situations regularly is a great opportunity to expand your writing abilities and hone your skills. Who knows, there may be writing gold in there somewhere!

Never forget an idea.

I don’t know about you, but I often get ideas for my writing and beyond at the most inconvenient moments—in the shower, whilst cooking, doing the dishes, or picking up dog poop (I know, oh the glamour of a writer’s life!). I always think that I’ll remember these, but the truth is, most of them get forgotten, never to be retrieved again from the confines of my mind.

Journaling is a great way never to lose sight of an idea. My Journaling involves a lot of notes about random ideas I have for a plot, a story, a post, or life activities in general. They serve as inspiration for the future. Writing them down helps me rest assured that I can go back to that list and explore it later, whenever convenient.

Free your mind &notice trends.

One of the most important things I’ve notice happen when I journal, is that it helps me empty my mind fro ma lot of the never-ending thinking loops I tend to fall victim to. By putting thoughts down on paper, I’m able to see them more clearly, and my brain finally feels like it no longer needs to hold onto them. Jotting things down is a great way to break your pattern of thinking (or, if you’re like me, obsessing) and to allow yourself time to take a step back and look at the big picture.

Whether it’s something you’re stuck on in your writing, or in your life in general, journaling on it is powerful, especially if you do it regularly. Not only will you create more space in your mind for better and brighter things—say, your next brilliant writing idea!—but it’ll also give you a chance to notice trends and recurring themes. And that’s a great way to build awareness about your own patterns of behaviour, and start eradicating your most negative or toxic thinking habits.

Keep a record.

Performance coach Tony Robbins (yes, him again! What can I say, I’m a huge fan) says that ‘if your life is worth living it’s worth recording’. I couldn’t agree more. Journaling gives you a chance to be your own life historian. To keep track of where you’ve been and how far you’ve gone. To look back on those day-to-day accomplishments that may look minute at the time but all add up to something big and wonderful in the end.

Looking at your own existence and experience as something that’s worth keeping a record of also sends your subconscious mind a clear message: that’s you’re worthy. You’re enough. Every moment of your life has an impact, the good and the bad, and helps mould who you become.

I’d say there are few more powerful truths to embrace in your lifetime!

Getting Started with Journaling.

That’s all well and good, you might say, but where do I start?

Fear not, my friend, here are some suggestions to get you started.

1. Set a schedule — If you don’t make time for it, chances are it won’t happen, because life has a habit of getting in the way. Identify a time that works best for you—whether that’s morning, midday, evening etc.—and schedule it in your calendar, setting a reminder so you don’t forget about it. If finding time daily feels daunting or unrealistic, why not start with once a week, or a couple of times a week?

2. Make it a habit — Stick to it! Whether it comes naturally or not, be disciplined about it. Embrace whatever comes, both the joys and the discomfort of it. Set yourself a goal—every day for a week, every other day for a month etc.—and sit with it for the entire duration you committed to.

3. Set a timer — Journaling doesn’t have to take a lot of time. I tend to journal for about ten minutes at a time on average, sometimes less and sometimes more. If you’re unsure what duration to start with, set a timer for ten minutes and see what comes up.

4. Let it flow — As I mentioned above, Journaling may or may not feel natural at first. It may feel great or it may feel uncomfortable. Whatever comes up for you, let it flow. Why not journal about the sensations and feelings the experience of journaling brings up? It may end up being one thing one day and something altogether different the next. Whatever it is for you at any given time is what’s right. Be open-minded, remember this is unique and personal, and no one—not even you—should ever judge it.

The Power of Rituals.

If you’re still unsure about the value of journaling, or about getting started with it, let me say this one final thing: the most important piece of the puzzle, as with anything else you do, is defining your ‘why’—i.e. the reasons behind your decision to start (or continue) journaling. Ask yourself:

Why do you want to start journaling?

Why is it important to you?

How do you think it’ll make you feel? How do you want it to make you feel?

What difference do you think it’ll make to you, to your life, to your writing?

Clearly defining your ‘why’ and your intentions will help you maintain the habit. More importantly, understanding the value this holds to you will take journaling from a mere habit—which can feel like a chore—to a ritual of self-care. That’s the difference between doing it because you think it’s cool, or because everyone is doing it, or because you think you should do it, and doing it because you know for a fact, in your core, that this will make you and your writing better and stronger.

This will go a long way in making it more enjoyable. It’ll help you build rituals around it that are nurturing and caring. Get yourself to acknowledge why it’s good for you and why it’s pleasurable, and then set up the environment to make your journaling time feel like an absolute treat. Maybe that’s setting the scene in the room where you journal with a candle or some background music. Maybe that’s selecting a nice notebook if you’re doing this by hand, or picking your favourite writing spot, at home or beyond.

Eventually, these will all act as triggers to get you into the right journaling mindset whenever you’re sitting down for it.

And if you’re not quite sure what that all looks like for you… Well. Isn’t that a great topic to start journaling about?

#writingtips #screenwriting #creative writing #writers on tumblr #writers #writing #writerblr #writing advice #writing community #writing resources

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years

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Thanks for opening prompts back up! I look forward to seeing what new ideas will come up. Prompt 1/2: The young archer shidi succeeds in killing Wen Zhuliu during the battle of Lotus Pier

They beat Jiang Cheng all the harder for it, when they catch him.

Wang Lingjiao said that he’d been the one to block her blow, the one that would have killed the little boy who shot Wen Zhuliu, and was therefore to blame for his death; Jiang Cheng had no idea if that was true or not, or if they were just making excuses.

Why they felt that they still needed to make excuses when they had all the power, he didn’t know.

Wen Chao kicked him, face twisting in disgust. “I was going to have Wen Zhuliu melt his core,” he complained, voice aggravated as if Wen Zhuliu dying had been done intentionally to inconvenience him. “Then we could have kept him as a pet.”

Jiang Cheng would rather die, at his own hand if necessary, than face that fate.

“Oh, well,” Wen Chao said, and reached for the discipline whip. “There’s more than one way to make a man useless.”

By the time Wei Wuxian came for him, Jiang Cheng was more dead than alive.

“You should go without me,” he whispered.

“Never,” Wei Wuxian swore, and took him away anyway.

Wen Qing didn’t have an especially promising expression on her face when she looked at him, and so he tried not to look at her. He had had thoughts about her once, maybe even coalescing towards vague intentions, but no one could be expected to take him as he currently was: little more than a few scraps of meat held together by ruptured and bloody flesh.

“You can help him, right?” Wei Wuxian asked her when he thought Jiang Cheng was unconscious.

“I don’t even know how he’s still alive,” she said frankly. “Even if he makes it through this, you’re looking at a recovery period measured in years, not months.”

“We don’t have years! The Jiang sect –”

“This isn’t something I can fix,” she said. “I can give him medicine to ease the pain, I can stitch him up to stop the bleeding, I can apply bandages to stop any further damage, I can prescribe a treatment regime that will hopefully leave him with some ability to move – but he’ll probably be in pain for the rest of his life.”

She stopped, licked her lips. “Or, if you think it better, I can – I can prescribe something stronger.”

Wei Wuxian’s voice rose up in protest, but then she dragged him away from Jiang Cheng’s door, and he didn’t hear what they decided.

The next day, she gave Jiang Cheng medicine. He drank it all down, finished even the dregs, and said, “Was that the one for death, or merely for pain?”

Their expressions were both stricken.

“Pain, then,” he concluded. He wasn’t sure if he was happy about that decision - he mostly just felt empty inside, even though he had a golden core to keep him warm. What use was a golden core if you couldn’t use your arms and legs? Wen Chao had laughed as he’d lashed him, aimed specifically at the connections between his limbs - a pet didn’t need those. “We need to make our way to the Nie sect.”

“The Nie sect? Why?”

“They’re the only ones I trust not to turn me in to the Wen sect,” Jiang Cheng said, and didn’t look at Wen Qing when he spoke. “They wouldn’t make their lives easier by giving me up, no matter what the Wen sect said. As for the rest - the rest will depend on you, Wei Wuxian.”

“On…me?”

Jiang Cheng nodded. He’d thought it over the night before and decided: if they sent him to his death, the responsibility for the future would fall on their shoulders; if they let him live, he would tell them what had to be done. “You’re going to lie to everyone.”

“What? Lie -”

“Tell them that I’m off on sect business or something,” Jiang Cheng continued, refusing to let Wei Wuxian interrupt. “Recruit them in the name of revitalizing the Jiang sect on my behalf, and only later do we reveal that I’ve become a useless person and you’re the actual sect leader.”

“I’m not going to be –”

“Father would have wanted it to be you if I were dead,” Jiang Cheng said brutally, cutting him off. “And even if I wasn’t, he might have still wanted it – you understand the Jiang sect motto better than me, remember?”

“I don’t want your birthright, Jiang Cheng! I never have –”

“What use is a birthright I can’t claim? The sect will have to be in your hands. You have to put it first, Wei Wuxian – above personal feelings, above revenge, above even righteousness. Chifeng-zun sat across the table from his father’s murderer for ten years, waiting for this war; you just have to fight it.”

“But I can’t do it without you,” Wei Wuxian said, and his eyes were wet. “Jiang Cheng…”

“What other choice do we have? I can’t do anything. I don’t doubt Mistress Wen’s words that the prospects aren’t good that I’ll ever be able to do anything again. Not cultivate, not fight…nothing.”

There was a cough at the door.

Wen Ning was standing there with some bowls of soup, his shoulders up by his ears. “About that,” he said hesitantly. “I had an idea the other day…I don’t know if it’d work.”

“What is it?” Wei Wuxian asked at once, always eager to believe in the impossible.

“It was one of jiejie’s earlier medical texts,” Wen Ning explained. “The one about prosthetics, and paralyzed limbs…”

“That was purely theoretical,” Wen Qing interrupted. They looked at her and she flushed. “My idea was that since we know the pattern of the body’s meridians, there was no need to amputate a paralyzed limb in order to replace it with a prosthetic, but rather build up a prosthetic around the limb as it existed: sort of like a metal frame that you could manipulate with your qi, the way people manipulate swords. But it wasn’t practical. Even if you could find someone skilled in smiting spiritual weapons willing to waste their time building the metal frame, there’s no way to infuse the necessary amount of spiritual energy into it without cultivating with it - and the ones that need it won’t be able to.”

“But what if you tied it to something that was already a spiritual weapon?” Wen Ning said.

“Are you suggesting melting down my sword?” Jiang Cheng demanded, horrified.

Wen Ning quickly shook his head. “Not melting down anything at all,” he assured him. “But rather…jiejie, didn’t you say that the important part of cultivating the metal frame was to send energy throughout it?”

“Yes,” she said, looking puzzled. “But how…?”

Wen Ning pointed at Jiang Cheng’s hand, where Zidian still sat – the Wen clan hadn’t been able to get it off of him despite their best efforts, and at the time of his rescue Wen Chao hadn’t yet decided if he was willing to commit to just chopping the entire hand off at the wrist.

Wen Qing’s eyes widened. “Impossible,” she said, but there was a quiver in her voice.

“It’s not impossible, is it?” Wei Wuxian said, voice eager, and for a second Jiang Cheng felt himself start to fill with hope. “It can be done! Metal conducts lightning - Zidian recognizes Jiang Cheng as its master. We could spread Zidian’s spiritual energy through its lightning –”

“But that’s the problem!” she said. “Yes, metal transmits lightning, and yes, in theory, it would work to spread the spiritual energy throughout the metal frame and therefore permit Zidian’s master to control his movements with his qi rather than his body. But it’s lightning, sparking over every nerve – it would be agonizing. His body is already a wreck, you can’t ask him to -”

“No one is asking anything,” Jiang Cheng said, and now he was afire with hope. If it was just pain...well, there wouldn’t be anything just about it, but he would manage. He would have to manage. “If it can be done, let us do it. Will you come with us to Qinghe to help us design it?”

“We can’t. Our family –”

“I drugged the wine so they could escape,” Wen Ning blurted out. “And I’m pretty sure Wen Chao will be able to figure out it was me. Jiejie, please…”

“The Nie sect has the fiercest army,” Wei Wuxian said. “We could ask them to prioritize getting your kinsmen to safety, as a favor to us; they repay you on our behalf, and we repay them later. Please!”

“It may hinder your recovery,” Wen Qing said, turning to Jiang Cheng. “As it stands, your body was just ripped apart by the discipline whip – if you take it easy for two, three years, with your strong cultivation, you may be able to heal, to get your arms and legs back.”

“But not fully.”

“…no. Not fully.”

“And the metal frame will give me full mobility?”

“Not full,” she said firmly. “You would still need to heal from the basic wounds for a few months before we could even think about starting something like this, but after...” She bit her lip. “After that, that it should be enough for you to walk and fly and maybe even fight…but listen to me! If you strain yourself when you should be healing, your body will take even longer to heal – not two or three years, but ten. It may never heal right.”

“I don’t have two years,” Jiang Cheng said. “The war is happening now. I need to lead my men, at least in appearance – I need to be sect leader, I need Wei Wuxian by my side, and I need you. I need your help.”

He looked at her – would have taken her hand in his, if he could.

“Please,” he said, nearly begging. “Please.”

She gave in.

#mdzs #jiang cheng #wen chao #wei wuxian #wen qing #wen ning #my fic #my fics #nagisachan1

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junglekookbook · 3 years

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Papilionem

Yoongi × reader

Genre: crack, yandere, angst

A/n: I write for my one muse and one muse only, I am scared to be posting again but it really helps to have a friend always have your back and support you. Hopefully I don't disappoint people with my writing. @cosmostae

Prologue (for context)

The human species as Y/n would soon come to understand was extremely selfish and pompous. Not a week had passed since she had crashed onto this planet and suddenly it became her job to save them. Like she owed it to them, when she barely managed to survive there was not one huan that worried about her but only criticsed her and called her incompetent and said that she was bad at her job. Duties aside, she did not deserve this. Why was babysitting this ungrateful species her responsibility. Her duty was to protect earth, the planet not it’s inhabitants. Maybe she should let these pitiful creatures just freeze to death. She hated Yoongi, but somehow she had grown to loathe the human species more. She had managed to secure a home in a rundown building far away from the city. Really far away. Something called ‘radioactivity’ or something was present in the area. She found it funny. ‘Just another one of those superstitions’ she thought. Her large crimson wings shimmered in the golden light of the setting sun. The warmth soothed her skin and helped her take away her attention from the pain from all her injuries that she had sustained while duelling with Yoongi. Her species was really not equipped to handle the cold. A cold dry laugh escaped her lips, finding it comical how over the years while the species of other planets focused on evolving traits that could be weaponized, hers had focussed on peace and aesthetics. Look where that got them. Cryonovians had evolved a trait to specifically destroy her planet and win the long cold war while her planet focussed on stupid things like ‘what is the meaning of life?’ “Mass extinction” She blurted out bitterly. Whilst it was true that her loyalty would always be with her home planet she could not help but be filled with disdain at the pompousness of all those philosophers. Sounds of cracking glass shook her out of her thoughts, straightening her back she poked her head from the sill to survey the surroundings. It definitely was not a human, they were very rigid with this superstition. Swinging her legs off the window sill she floated over the floor to the source of the sound. Her hands were already preparing a small ball of energy.

Yoongi stood leaning against the door frame, a plastic bag in his hands. Y/n was in no shape to fight and he knew that. If she chose to fight now, she could die, only he wouldn’t let her. He had always found them to be like lamb and lion. There was no winning chance for the lamb but he found it cute how it still tried. His amusement had developed into an infatuation that he had denied for a very long until Hoseok, his closest friend from the neighbouring planet had made him realize that he was smitten with the lamb. It was from then that he did everything in his power to get the two of them together on Earth, away from all the dirty politics, of course he did not want the annihilation of her planet, but then that Jimin showed up and suddenly that planet needed to go. The first time he saw her on this filthy planet, looking so vulnerable, he was ready to recite the confession he had spent days preparing. He expected her to be angry or cry but he really did not expect the way his throat constricted and heart raced at the sight of her. His words formed a lump in his throat that made it hard for him to breathe. That night she had knocked him off his feet, in every sense of the phrase. The days that followed seemed like a fun show to put on. He realized that watching her lose made him happy. This part of himself he was still battling with. How could he enjoy hurting someone he loved? Was it the fact that he hurt her or the fact that he never killed her? He enjoyed the control and the act of mercy he showed her everytime they duelled. It felt like a bonding activity to him.

“What? What are you here for? You are going to kill me aren’t you?” Y/n asked when she saw him leaning against the door. Yoongi took in her bruised body, and ripped wing, the bruises on her knuckles when she had had the grand idea of using physical attacks with him, it had felt like punching a brick of ice. It pained him to see her like that, knowing that he was the reason for it. That is not what he wants their future to be, when they do get married he would not be caught dead hurting her. “Why would I do that?” He asked, furrowing his brow. Y/n’s lower lip jut out in annoyance, eyes glaring daggers at him. “Oh, right I forgot, you prefer to mock me publicly everytime we fight.” She spat. “Mock you? I-” Shaking his head, he chose not to talk about it, “I came here bearing gifts.” He said raising his hands and showing her the plastic bag, the act making her flinch and making a dull pain settle in his chest. She did not feel safe around him, but he would fix that, starting with these juice boxes and packed potato chips. “I want nothing from you.” she said, moving away to create distance between them. “No, don’t say that! I had to freeze the cashier for these!” He protested, walking towards her again.

“I don’t have a home to go back to. Do you know what that is like?” She blurted out, her eyes welled up and voice broke at the end of the question. Yoongi felt his heart constrict, “I would not go back either, I will stay here with you.” He offered, he did not want to see her in more pain, he had already caused her enough of that. His offer was met with the faint feeling of getting hit by her energy blasts on the arm. She did not have the strength to hurt him, it felt like a slight tap on the shoulder at best. “You have people to go back to. People who love you, care about you, who are waiting for you. I- I am alone on this planet, trapped with no where to go, their stupid atmosphere feels like a glass jar. I have no one to go to and no one who would take care of me! I can’t live with this loneliness forever!” She screamed, tears streaming down her face, she hid her face in her hands, falling to her knees, cutting them against the glass shards. Green blood dripped from her wounds, unlike the humans it was nitrogen her species needed. Most species relied on nitrogen and helium, luckily earth had enough nitrogen to sustain her. “You’re right, I don’t know what that is like.” Yoongi finally admitted, he took slow steps when approaching her, with great caution he wrapped his glacial arms around her “but I am willing to understand. We are away from all the war, away in a world of our own, maybe sometimes we just don’t have to fight,” He cooed at her, running his hand through her hair. He did not receive an answer from her, but as the sun set, Y/n cried herself to sleep inYoongi’s embrace.

When she woke up in the morning, Yoongi was not around, a cool sensation lingered on her arms but it wasn’t the kind that caused discomfort, it made her understand why humans used ice on wounds. After breaking down last night in front of the man she had sworn to kill, she felt the pain fade and dull in a manner that fomentation with ice could only do. His words played in her head “A world of our own” he had said, no one would know if they fought or not, last night she felt a comfort she had not felt in a long time, but then again, she had not been shown kindness in a long time. It was the bare minimum on Yoongi’s part, she brushed it off as basic courtesy, as for what he said, she would give him an answer once her wounds healed. In the words of the human philosopher, Taylor Swift “Band aids don’t fix bullet holes” and she had just endured air bombings.

The wings took the longest to heal, it took great patience to see them come together and for the scar to disappear. She took a day for herself, tried those potato chips and almost gagged at the ridiculous amount of sugar in that litchi juice box. Given that she hated sugar so much, she figured that she would use it to address Yoongi. She was growing tired of using that Cryonovian name. She wrote him a letter that day, to be fair, she wrote him at least thirty but sent only one.

“Dear Yoongi, Yoongi, Suga,

What happened between us, nothing happened betw Maybe it is easier for you to ask for a few moments of peace, you have not lost everything that you had known to be true about your existence or purpose. With my planet no longer existing, I have often questioned why I must still keep the promises of an extinct species, but I understand it now. You froze a man to death for some edibles, something I could never do, these humans, they are so fragile… they need my protection, I must protect them from people like you who simply take and take and take. You took my home and my love, you are taking from these people too. I may not be strong enough to defeat you yet, but I will never stop trying, so long as humans can see that I am good and you are not, I will fight. When next we speak it will be as rivals.”

They did meet as rivals again. High above in the sky, a crimson winged fairy fought a white haired cryokinesis wielding assassin. With new found motivation coursing through her veins, she fought Yoongi. A part of her acted impulsively, filled with denial for finding comfort in his arms. She was relentless in her rain of energy on his figure. She knew that she was doing better than she ever had, she might just win, maybe she would mock him too. Let him live to be defeated again. Make a spectacle out of him like he did everytime. She allowed herself a small glance at the crowd gathered below that cheered for her today. That believed in her after so long. Only… they didn’t. They hated her for doing well against the mysterious bad boy villain with ice powers. They hated her for trying. They hated her no matter what she did. A sudden sense of despair consumed her, making her mind go numb, a window that Yoongi used to gain the upper hand. He had not intended to hit her heart, he aimed for her arm, he watched with dread filled eyes as her unconscious body started falling through the air. In his panic and desperation he reached out his hand to hold her, letting her survive that fall. Losing control of his powers in his state of distress he watched the icicle impale her heart in horror. The screaming of the crowd died down and the sound that echoed in his head over and over was the thud that had accompanied Y/n’s fall. He had killed her.

#yandere min yoongi #yandere yoongi x reader #yandere bts #yandere #yandere suga #min yoogni #bts jimin #yoongi x you #yoongi #yoongi × reader

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popculturebuffet · 3 years

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Amphibia Season 2 Reviews: The Second Temple and Barrel’s Warhammer “The First Drumbeats of War”

Welcome back all you happy people! We’re in the final stretch of the season now, only three more episodes after this. And with this episode the end trajectory of the season becomes clear and the anticipation to the finale mounts.. and the dread as boy oh boy is this one going to hurt. Join me under the cut for a recap and spoiilers as I break down my thoughts and prepare for war.

The Second Temple:

Our heroes head to the great north for their next temple...

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No no I just mean the arctic part of Amphibia. That’s sadly not a crossover we’re getting.. yet. One can dream.. or write weird fanfiction. Point is it’s time for an ice adventure. Also Hop Pop now has his own “Hop Pocket” in Joe’s sweater> Aww. Also Joe has a sweater now. Awwww. And he crashed upside down. Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww. I keep thinking I love this bird as much as humanly possible and he keeps going and finding new ways to make me love him more.

Our heroes soon run into a problem though: While Marcy’s coordinates got them there the temple isn’t in sight. Anne does find them some help though as she spots a familiar stand. It’s some lady they met back in the bizzare bazzar named valeriana?

Yeah clearly a lot of you have better memories than me, which isn’t hard my mind is a never ending sinkhole and while I remember a LOT of stuff, I often forget just as much. So a vendor lady who was hinted to be important but didn’t do much in the episode itself totally slipped my mind and I didn’t even notice she was apparently in the season 2b trailer. I have no memory for a character who turns out to be vitally important yet all the memory for Stoopy.

Your doin Odd’s work Stoopy. But she is as she offers to take them to the temple, revealing herself as part of a hiden order dedicated to the calamity box and protecting it.

But like most hidden orders, Val seems to be a huge prick, and chastises and berates Anne constantly questioning her worthness and skil, and chastising her for giving up her coat to save her friends when a cardinal Val summons goes after their catapillar skin coats, and goes out of her way to rescue a family in the path of an avalanche. Val decides from all of this Anne is not worthy and she won’t guide them.. which causes Anne to rightfully call her out on her episode long streak of irritating condesencing bullshit. Val responds as you’d expect.. by warping Anne to another dimension and trying to steal the box from her leading to a fight. The fight is engaging with Anne giving it her best, though weirdly she didn’t take her sword along, while Val points out a lot of anne’s thefts over the years: from bessie to hop pop’s wallet.. to the box. Which Anne admits.. but also admits as shitty as it is it’s better to learn from bad things you did and do the right thing now, than to dwell on them and let htem drown you.

Anne wins and val is dangling by a ledge and while she points out Anne can’t escape without her.. Anne figured out the staff. But Anne.. is a good persona nd as much as she’d like to let val die when her hand slips...she dosen’t. SHe’s her enemy sure but she’s still a person and her death does nothing and solves nothing. And that.. turned out to be the whole point. Val was simply testing Anne’s character: The whole journey was the temple and while the previous temple tested for intellegence.. this one tested for heart, anne’s greatest trait. Val powers the gem with her staff glad to have found something worthy.. but much like Luke or Aaang, Anne hears her friends in trouble and leaves with the gem only mostly charged. She returns.. to find everyone okay, Marcy showing the plantars stuff on her phone, and they set off... but the gem blinks a bit as they leave.

Final Thoughts on the Second Temple: The second temple is a decent episode. It has some great worldbuilding, some good gags and really shows off anne’s character development, her empathy and her bravery while giving us an intresting side character and possible future Ally in Valeriana and increasing the mystery around the calamity box. If it’s REALLY as bad as it’s name implies... then why are these people protecting it? And why are the protections, the order the temples.. benevolent, based on personal character and making sure the right person passes. Did Andrias name it that.. and if so.. did he do it for his master? I have a lotta questions and i’m excited to get the answers. All in all a very decent ep.. but like last week the second one majorly upstages it.

Barrel’s Warhammer

So we finally check back with Sasha and I was excited as her previous spotlight episode earlier in the season is still the best episode of the season. But this one brilliantly builds on that.

The various leader of the toad towers are having a summit and well...

So i’m just going to call them the cryptkeeper, bad haircut and grime’s sister. Their all doubtful of whatever pitch Grime has while Grime and Co are preparing, and have bonded with Percy and Braddock more and the two having designed a cool one eyed logo for their army.

The pitch is intrigues the toad with even Grime’s Sister he used to tease as a kid being impressed.. and reveals to our anti-heroes that his name is Grimothy. Grimothy. GRIMOTHY

But their not impressed with the idea of a disgraced captain and his “Hummus” leading them, even if Andrias has his own Humuss’... and this reveals to Sasha her best friends exes are doing just fine without her and working together. She takes it how you’d expect.. by taking it out on Bad Haircut’s guards and angrily asking waht it’llt ake. it’s then the cryptkeeper rises, turning out not to be dead with one request: Barrel’s Warrhammer. Sasha agrees to retreive it for them, but both Percy and Braddock are terrified.. as is GRIME of all people.

We find out why as they take a lava boat to go fetch the thing: Barrel’s Warhammer is a legendary weapon, wielded by the Toad Hero Barrel, who used it to fight off a great monster and keep it from destroying a villiage dying in the process with his hammer apparently still guarded by said beast. Grime doubts it’s actually real and feels i’ts just a legend. But Percy and Braddock are more concerned with posisbly dying but Sasha reassures them that they’ll be fine and if it gets too dangerous, she’ll bail, using a Kawaii pose as a signal and making me feel very old.

They find the Hammer but can’t lift it because “Only those who be worthy can”.. oh wait wrong hammer. No this one is just really heavy. They soon find the beast, a narwhaal worm, a massive armored horned worm. Phrasing. So naturally Braddock and Percy want to opt out... but Sasha chooses going after the worm over honoring her promise, and hooking the things horn to ride it to the tower. They just need to bring the hammer there.... even if it costs her friends their lives and saftey and involves betraying them. And this creates a marvelous parallel to the other episode in this pairing: Anne time and time again puts her family and girlfriend, random strangers and even an enemy’s life above her own. To Anne it’s helping other people what’s important damn what happens to her. If she’s cold, buired or something else fine. What matters is someone else is safe. Sasha by contrast.. is willing to risk herself and other sif it means getting waht she wants. It’s her will to matters.. and it’s her lack of empathy that’s holding her back. Anne is strong because she has her new family, Marcy, and an army of loayal friends in Wartwood. Sasha may be strong in ablility.. but her weakness in heart costs her. She has grime.. btu that end sup being it as while they sucessfully arrive and get the troops they need.. Braddock and Percy can’t bear the cost or danger or the hurt of Sasha’s betryal and depart with Grime noting that getting what you want costs. But as we’ve seen with Anne and Marcy’s respective temples, it was doing the right thing NOT getting what they wanted, that made them better as people and got further. And as the look on Sasha’s face shows as her friends depart her, and she realizes she’s almost entirely alone.. she’s not sure world domination is really WHAT she wants. OR that it was worth the prices she keeps having to pay.

Final Thoughts:

Barrel’s Warrhamer is another masterpiece following sasha. While not as strong as Toadcatcher it’s still damn good, showing Sasha’s further travels down a bad road, and her starting to doubt if this path is really worth it. The acting and animation are topnotch, as is the world building. It’s a truly stellar showing that just ratchets up tension for the fianle.. and for the inteivitble reunion between our three heroines and the clash between their three sides; the king Marcy serves without realizing his true malevoence, the Toads Sasha and grime are leading to war.. and the frogs Anne once swore to protect that are about to be swept up in the tides of war.. and possibly take a stand against both sides. War is coming for our heroines and they are not ready for the hell that is to come.. and neither am I. Frog this is going to be painful isn’t it?

If you liked this review follow me for more, shoot me an ask or comment with your own thoughts, send me a dm if you want to comission a review and join my patreon at patreon.com/popculturebuffet so I can keep making these reviews. Until the next rainbow it’s been a pleasure.

#amphibia #sasha waybright #anne boonchuy #marcy wu #hopidiah plantar #joe sparrow #captain grime #percy #braddock #kawaii #barrel's warhammer #the second temple #disney channel

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snarktheater · 3 years

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Hey, d'you have any French book recs? I'm trying to work on my French, and rn I have downloaded one of my favourite book series' French translations, but I figured maybe books already written in French might work better? Also have you read the Ranger's Apprentice series? 1/2

RA's def flawed - the books' narration does like to point bright arrows at the protagonists' intelligence, and the last few books def have the tone of 'old white man trying to write feminism', although at least he's trying? - and it's aimed more to the younger side of YA, but it is still a very fun series, and I can ignore the flaws fairly easily, at least partly due to nostalgia? This rather long lol but I'm wordy.

I'll start with the second question: no, although every time the series is brought up I have to check the French title and go "oh, right, I've seen these books in stores". But I've never purchased or read them. It sounds like something I probably would have enjoyed as a teen but I just missed the mark, and these days I'm trying to drown myself in queer books, so that probably isn't happening.

As for your first question, geez, I haven’t read a French book in years, so this is gonna skew middle grade/YA, though that may not be so bad if the point is to learn the language. I will also say that as a result, these may read a little outdated.

I'll put it under a cut, even if Tumblr has become really bad with correctly displaying read mores. Sorry, mobile crowd.

It's also likely that old readers of the blog will have seen me talk about most of these. I don't feel like going through old posts.

One last thing: while I was curating this list I took the time to make a Goodreads shelf to keep track of those.

The Ewilan books by Pierre Bottero

(It's a testament to how long ago I read these books that these are not the covers of the edition I own, and I can't even find those on Google. I'm settling for a more recent cover anyway since it'll make it easier to find them, presumably)

There are at least three trilogies (that I know of) set in the same world.

The first trilogy is essentially an isekai (so, French girl lands in parallel fantasy world by accident) with elements of chosen one trope, though I find the execution makes it worth the while anyway.

The second trilogy is a direct sequel, so same protagonist but new threat, and the world gets expanded.

The third one is centered around a supporting characters from the previous books, and the first couple of books in it are more her backstory than a continuation, though the third one concludes both that trilogy and advances the story of the other books as well.

Notably these books have a really fun magic system where the characters "draw" things into existence. It's just stuck with me for some reason.

A bunch of stuff by Erik L'Homme

I have read a lot of this man's books, starting with Le Livre des Etoiles.

They also skew towards the young end of YA, arguably middle grade, I never bothered to figure out where to draw the line. They're coincidentally also using the premise of a parallel world to our own (and yes, connected to France again, the French are just as susceptible of writing about their homeland), but interestingly are set from the point of view of characters native to the parallel world.

It also has a very unique magic system, this one based on a mix of a runic alphabet and sort-of poetry. I'll also say specifically for these books that the characters stuck with me way more than others on this list, which is worth mentioning.

This trilogy is my favorite by Erik L'Homme, but I'll also mention Les Maîtres des brisants, which is a fantasy space opera with a pirate steampunk(?) vibe. I think it's steampunk. I could be mistaken. But it's in that vein. It's also middle grade, in my opinion not as good, but it could just be that it came out when I was older.

Another one is Phaenomen, which was a deliberate attempt at skewing older (though still YA). This one is set in our (then-)modern world and centers a group of teens who happen to have supernatural powers. I guess the best way to describe it is a superhero thriller? If you take "superhero" in the sense of "people with individualized powers", since they don't really do a lot of heroing.

...I really need to brush up on genre terminology, don't I.

The Ji series by Pierre Grimbert

This one is actually adult fantasy, though it definitely falls under "probably outdated". It is very straight, for starters, and I'd have to give it another read to give a more critical reading of how it handles race (it attempts to do it, and is well meaning, but I'm not sure it survives the test of time & scrutiny, basically).

If I haven't lost you already, the premise is this: a few generations ago, a weird man named Nol gathered emissaries from each nation of the world and took them to a trip to the titular Ji island. Nobody knows what went down here, but now in the present day, someone is trying to kill off all descendants from those emissaries, who are as a result forced to team up and figure out what's going on.

I'm not going to spoil past that, though I will say it has (surprise) a really unique magic system! I guess you can start to piece together what my younger self was interested in. Which, admittedly, I still am.

Once again, this one also has a strong cast of characters, helped by rich world building and the premise forcing the characters to come from many different cultures (though, again, I can't vouch for the handling of race because it's been too long).

The first series is complete by itself, though it has two sequel series as well, each focusing on the next generation in these families. Because yes, of course they all pair up and have kids. Like I said: very straight.

A whole lot of books by Jean-Louis Fetjaine

OFetjaine is a historian, and I guess he's really interested in Arthurian mythos especially, because he loves it so much he's written two separate high fantasy retellings of them! I'm not criticizing, mind you, we all need a hobby.

The former, the Elves trilogy (pictures above) is very traditional high fantasy. Elves, dwarves, orcs, a world which is definitely fictionalized with a pan-Celtic vibe to it. The holy grail and excalibur are around, but they're relics possessed by the elves and dwarves with very different powers than usual. Et cetera.

Fetjaine also really loves his elves (as the titles might imply), and while they're not exactly Tolkien elves, there's a similar vibe to them. If you like Tolkien and his elf boner, you'll probably like this too. And conversely, if that turns you off, these books probably also won't work for you.

This series also has a prequel trilogy, centered around the backstory of one of the main characters. I...honestly don't remember too much about it, but I liked it, so, there you go, I guess.

I said Fetjaine did it twice. The other series is the Merlin duology, which, as the title implies, is a retelling of Merlin's story. Note that Merlin is also in the other trilogy, but it's a different Merlin; like I said, completely different continuities and stories.

This one is historical fantasy, so it's set in actual Great Britain, and Fetjaine attempts to connect Arthur to a "real" historical figure...but, you know, Merlin is also half-elf and elves totally exist in Brocéliande, so, you know. History.

Okay, that's probably enough fantasy, let me give some classics too.

L'Arbre des possibles et autres histoires - Bernard Werber

Bernard Werber is a pretty seminal author of French sci-fi and I should probably be embarrassed that the only book of his that I read was for school, but, it is a really good one, so I'll include it anyway.

It's a novella collection, and when I say "sci-fi" I want to make it clear that it's very old school science fiction. It's more Frankenstein or Black Mirror than Star Trek, what we in French call the anticipation genre of science fiction: you take one piece of technology or cultural norm and project it into the future.

It has a pretty wide range of topics and tones, so it's bound to have some better than others. My personal faves were Du pain et des jeux, where football (non-American) has evolved into basically a wargame, and Tel maître, tel lion, where any animal is considered acceptable as a pet, no matter how absurd it is to keep as a pet. They're both on a comedic end, but there's more heartfelt stuff too.

L'Ecume des Jours - Boris Vian

(no cover because I can't find the one I have, and the ones I find are ugly)

This book is surrealist. Like, literally a part of the surrealist movement. It features things such as a lilypad growing inside a woman's lungs (and, as you well know, lilypads double in size every day, wink wink), the protagonist's apartment becoming larger and smaller to go with his mood and current financial situation, and more that I can't even recall at the moment because remembering this book is like trying to remember having an aneurysm.

It is also really, really fun and touching. Oh, and it has a pretty solid movie adaptation, starring Audrey Tautou, who I think an international audience would probably recognize from Amelie or the Da Vinci Code movie.

I don't really know what else to say. It's a really cool read!

Le Roi se meurt - Eugène Ionesco

Ionesco is somewhat famous worldwide so I wasn't even sure to include him here. He's a playwright who wrote in the "Theater of the Absurd" movement, and this play is part of that.

The premise of this play is that the King (of an unnamed land) is dying, and the land is dying with him. I don't really know what else to say. It's theater of the absurd. It kind of has to be experienced (the published version works fine, btw, no need to track down an actual performance, in my humble opinion).

The Plague - Albert Camus

You've probably heard of this one, and if you haven't, let me tell you about a guy called Carlos Maza

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I'm honestly more including this book out of a sense of duty. The other three are books I genuinely liked and happen to be classics. This book was an awful read. But, um. It's kind of relevant now in a way it wasn't (or didn't feel, anyway) back in 2008 or 2009, when I read it. And I don't just mean because of our own plague, since Camus's plague is pretty famously an allegory for fascism, which my teenage self sneered at, and my adult self really regrets every feeling that way.

Okay, finally, some more lighthearted stuff, we gotta talk about the Belgian and French art of bande dessinée. How is it different from comic books or manga? Functionally, it isn't. It really comes down more to what gets published in the Belgian-French industry compared to the American comics industry, which is dominated by superheroes, or the Japanese manga industry, which, while I'm less familiar with it, I know has some big genre trends as well that are completely separate.

The Lanfeust series - Arleston and Tarquin

This is a YA mega-series, and I can't recommend all of it because I've lost track of the franchise's growth. Also note that I say "YA", but in this case it means something very different from an American understanding of YA. These books are pretty full of sex.

No, when I say YA I mean it has that level of maturity, for better or worse. The original series (Lanfeust de Troy) is high fantasy in a world where everyone has an individual magical ability but two characters find out they're gifted with an absolute power to make anything happen, and while it gets dark at times, it's still very lighthearted throughout, and the humor is...well, I think it's best described as teen boy humor. And it has a tendency to objectify its female characters, as you'll quickly parse out from the one cover I used here or if you browse more covers.

But still, it holds a special place in my heart, I guess. And on my shelves.

The sequel series, Lanfeust des Etoiles, turns it into a space opera, and goes a little overboard with the pop culture reference at times, though overall still maintains that balance of serious/at times dark story and lighthearted comedy.

After that the franchise is utter chaos to me, and I've lost track. I know there was another sequel series, which I dropped partway through, and a spinoff that retold part of the original series from the PoV of the main love interest (in the period of time she spent away from the main group). There was a comedy spin-off about the troll species unique to this world, a prequel series, probably more I don't even know exist.

Les Démons d'Alexia

Something I can probably be a little less ashamed of including here.

Some backstory here. The Editions Dupuis are a giant of the Belgian bande dessinée industry, and for many, many years I was subscribed to their weekly magazine. That magazine was (mostly) made up of excerpts from the various books that the éditions were publishing at the time; those that were made of comic strips would usually get a couple pages of individual scripts, while the ongoing narratives got cut into episodes that were a few pages long (out of a typical 48 page count for a single BD album). Among those were this series.

For the first few volumes, I wasn't super into this series, probably because I was a little too young and smack dab in the middle of my "trying to be one of the boys" phase. But around book 3 I got really invested, to the point where I own the second half of the series because I had canceled by subscription by then but still wanted to know more.

Alexia is an exorcist with unusual talents, but little control, who's introduced to a group that specializes in researching paranormal phenomena, solving cases that involve the paranormal, that kinda stuff.

As a result of the premise, the series has a pretty slow start since it has to build up mystery around the source of Alexia's powers, but once it gets going and we get to what is essentially the series' main conflict, it gets really interesting.

Plus, witches. I'm a simple gay who likes strong protagonists and witches.

Murena

There was a point where my mtyhology nerdery led me to look for more stuff about the historical cultures that created them, and so I'd be super into stuff set in ancient Rome (I'd say "or Greece or Egypt" but let's face it, it was almost always Rome).

Murena is a series set just before the start of Emperor Nero's rule. You know, the one who was emperor when Rome burned, and according to urban legend either caused the fire or played the fiddle while it did (note: "fiddle" is a very English saying, it's usually the lyre in other languages). He probably didn't, it probably was propaganda, but he was a) a Roman Emperor, none of whom were particularly stellar guys and b) mean to Christians, who eventually got to rewrite history. So he's got a bad rep.

The series goes for a very historical take on events, albeit fictionalized (the protagonist and main PoV, the titular Lucius Murena, is himself fictional) and attempts to humanize the people involved in those events. Each book also includes some of the sources used to justify how events and characters are depicted, which is a nice touch.

It's also divided in subseries called "cycles" (books 1-4, 5-8 and the ongoing one starts at 9). I stopped after 9, though I think it's mostly a case of not going to bookstores often anymore. Plus it took four years between 9 and 10, and again between 10 and 11. But the first eight books made for a pretty solid story that honestly felt somewhat concluded as is, so it's a good place to start.

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smoochi-dazai · 4 years

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Hello there, can you do headcanons on how Atsushi, Dazai, Kunikida and Chuuya would react if they found out their fem s/o could sing opera? Like she’s not a professional, but she is self taught and has a powerful soprano voice and she sings Carmen’s Habanera like an angel basically? And they find out through her singing in the shower, through karaoke, etc. If you want to do this imagine thank you! 🙏💕🌹🍷✨

✿ “ Love is a rebellious bird ” ✿

—> Bungo Stray Dogs, Atsushi, Dazai, Kunikida, Chūya + PM Dazai | Reader

—> Sweet | hcs

—> Description | Atsushi, Dazai, Kunikida and Chūya react to a s/o who’s a talented, self taught opera singer.

+ I’m not sure how this turned out, sorry for taking so long <3 This is my first time writing for Atsushi, Kunikida and Chuya so i was super worried. TwT

Nakajima Atsushi

✿ Atsushi along with his s/o lived together, similar to Kyōka - Dazai suddenly roomed these two together with some kind of scheme. Using a cover up of keeping her safe, even though the s/o was plenty able to protect herself.

✿ The least Dazai expected was for these two not to start dating. It had been a couple months time before they even developed some feelings, but the love was intoxicating the air.

✿ Eventually becoming more affectionate publicly, small kisses on the cheek, hand holding- it was all some cute puppy love. Forming into something more genuine.

✿ While his s/o were roomed together with him, it wasn't uncommon for Atsushi to be out of the house at work. Or the other way around while his s/o still searched for a job.

✿ Thankfully Atsushi recommended to be an assistant at the ADA, if his s/o had no interest in all the violence and fighting as a proper member.

✿ The day Atsushi was first introduced to his s/o’s powerful voice for singing was while she was in the shower.

✿ He had towels for s/o and a spare change of fresh new clothes, but the poor boy didn’t want to interrupt their singing. opening the door ever so slightly, he put the clothes inside then shut the door again. No intension on invading his s/o’s privacy.

✿ Atsushi would mostly likely sit outside the door to listen to his s/o’s singing. It captured his heart honestly, poor boy was speechless.

✿ Never had he heard such a strong voice, he saw you as such a beautiful singer, let alone someone who slept right next to him ?! he couldn’t believe his ears.

✿ Poor boy ends up being hit by the door when his s/o came out of the bathroom, now changed in light clothes and a towel over their shoulders that had been partially dampened..

✿ Atsushi stared at his s/o in awe. Unable to say a word he just stares at s/o for an uncomfortable amount of time.

✿ Once Atsushi snaps out of it, he’s complimenting his s/o all day.

✿ When I say all day, I mean all day.

✿ Atsushi had no idea you were capable of something so, amazing. He knew you were talented, but never grasped the fact you could control your voice for opera?!

✿ He wont force you to sing for him or anything, but every once in a while he may ask.

✿ Overall, Atsushi was in love with the singing. He wouldn't question much, he’d be too busy complimenting it all.

Dazai Osamu

✿ These two first met at the cafe beneath the ADA’s head office.

✿ While the others were screaming at each other over work, Dazai left for some peace and quiet. The least he was expecting was a new waitress coming to his table with the cutest little smile.

✿ Dazai would do his typical flirts, asking to commit a lovers suicide.

✿ Each time he was declined, for obvious reasons haha.

✿ Visit upon visit, Dazai would show up much more frequently then the rest of his friends in the ada.

✿ They started to be on a first name basis which was a surprise, because even the ADA members call him by his surname.

✿ The day Dazai visited and found the cafe trashed up because of a group of thugs? he was beyond upset. s/o was knocked out cold on the ground, while the head of the cafe was clenching onto his hand that bled.

✿ After the ada caught the ones behind the attack and taught them a lesson, Dazai offered to take care of s/o at his place. She meekly accepted his offer.

✿ Being around someone more casual was refreshing and new, the rest of the people he knew were always work busy and overall just rude to him. Stick in the muds as he’d put it.

✿ S/o was gentle with him, always worried if he got injured- it was odd.

✿ At first he began rejecting her, but she’d still come to his place with groceries and cook for him.

✿ Falling her her more and more, Dazai joked less about his suicidal tendencies. Becoming more serious with his issues, he’d vent to s/o for relief. Even when she didn’t say anything in return, it was still comforting.

✿ Eventually these two started dating, Dazais flirtatious habits died off and he was always focused on his s/o. Some may say he was a bit obsessive, but Dazai was just afraid he’d lose what made him want to live.

✿ Their first date was simple, going out to town and just walking together hand in hand. They ate together, shopped a little- that was until he felt his s/o insist on pulling his arm, pointing at a building across the street.

✿ Dazai thought his s/o was pointing in the direction of a pathway leading to a river.

✿ “ You want to commit a lovers suicide in the river? “ I never said he completely got rid of the jokes- even if they hold a little truth.

✿ “ No moron! Karaoke is tonight !! “

✿ “ oh. “

✿ Pouting, his s/o dragged him to the building. Not minding that they were alone, she just wanted an excuse to sing for her lover.

✿ Thats the night she first sung for Dazai- he wasn’t aware of her talent in singing before-hand so this man was in pure awe.

✿ Dazai leaned back in his chair, eyes never once leaving his s/o’s form when she sung to him. A smile formed on his features uncontrollably, the singing wasn’t any singing of a casual for fun. It was Opera-

✿ He constantly wanted to speak up and say how amazing his s/o was, but stayed respectful. keeping his mouth quiet.

✿ Afterwards, Dazai showers his s/o in love. Kisses, words- you name it.

✿ “ Your voice was so powerful, ah~ I could die! “

✿ Dazai claims that if it were to continue he may faint from the beauty, saying his s/o was an angel sent from above to take care of him.

✿ His s/o better be prepared- because the next day she goes to work. all the ada detectives were sitting down like usual, but that's when Dazai takes it upon himself to drag s/o onto his lap and start bragging about her.

✿ Dazai tries to make her sing again, but the poor girl is embarrassed looking down at her lap.

✿ Overall this boy is all over his s/o, bragging to the world that she is talented as hell. Will often tease her for blushing when he asks her to sing for him.

Kunikida Doppo

✿ This man didn’t plan on meeting the woman of his dreams for another 3-5 years as he stated many times, which would then lead to marriage.

✿ But when you became an assistant at the ADA he couldn't keep his eyes off you, always coming with excuses as to why he’d stare.

✿ Dazai constantly teased him over this-

✿ “ Is it true? Kunikida has the hots for our new assistant?~ “ Dazai teases, only to be tossed away.

✿ “ I am only keeping an eye for her for the safety of our office, plus she may need guidance around the office. “

✿ “ Sureee.. “

✿ He never planned on becoming super close to the new assistant, but the way she smiled at him always kept his heart fluttering. The determination held in her eyes whenever he gave advise, it was something he appreciated.

✿ Unlike Dazai, she wasn't always on her ass. The potential love of his life was always on her feet, keeping her work a priority.

✿ It got to the point, she was kunikidas go-to person for assistance. Need coffee? she’d get it for him, need to shut up Dazai? he is already out the window. She’d never failed to meet his expectations, a true blessing. Even helping his with paperwork became a regular whenever he was fatigued.

✿ He never involved himself with romance, especially around work. But he couldn’t help but fall for you as time went by, dazai pointing it out made it more obvious to himself. he was changing because of his s/o.

✿ It takes a couple years to actually get together, this man is always busy with his work and ideals. So even though it takes so long, id say its worth it. He deeply cares for his s/o even if he isnt always fun and romantic-

✿ The first time he hears his s/o sing was when they were off work for once, just resting at home on the couch. However, kunikida still insisted on working from home.

✿ His s/o had to convince him to leave.

✿ “ Can you at least listen to me sing? I’ve been practicing... i thought you’d want to listen. “

✿ Sing? this was the first time he heard of his s/o singing. He never wrote that down, time to add it to the list of talents he figures out his s/o has.

✿ He was convinced to listen to one song, thankfully. So his s/o dragged him to the living room, siting him down as she sat in front of him.

✿ At the start, he never once put his notebook down. Writing random jots in there about she could only assume- it was about her.

✿ So while singing, she carefully takes the book from his hand, catching Kunikidas attention.

✿ After the singing, Kunikida was almost in tears- nowhere in his notebook did it say his girlfriend would be this talented.

✿ He’d grab her shoulders, staring eye to eye with her. It was an intense stare only to be glossy, tearing up. Explaining how that was so beautiful.

✿ Overall, Kunikida is gushing over the beauty. There will be a lot of explaining as to how his s/o is perfect in his eyes.

Chūya Nakahara

✿ Chuya first met his s/o through the Mafia, s/o weren’t all that special. Just another person beneath him in terms of rank, he didn’t know much about them honestly.

✿ It wasn’t til he ran into his future s/o during a meeting with fellow executives and their leader, Mori.

✿ S/O was playing with Elise on the opposite side of the room, Chuya was much more focused on Mori for obvious reasons at first. But then his ears pick up on s/o braiding Elise hair and humming for her.

✿ Honestly it was pretty sweet, s/o was a beauty he’d admit.

✿ Suddenly, Mori called s/o over. Advising her to follow Chuya on a mission to retrieve information from a colleague in question.

✿ At first Chuya would question why she of all people would be sent with him, but that look in her eyes gave it away. S/O wasn’t any normal mafia member, her dull eyes still held a sparkle. Serious about their mission.

✿ Something about it was intimidating?

✿ Its never right to judge a book by its cover, Chuya knew that. But he still couldnt grasp that someone as motherly as the s/o was capable of hurting even a fly.

✿ S/o was there to keep him under control, Mori was all too aware of Chuyas hot-headed approach to issues. But Chuya still was trustworthy enough.

✿ It became a regular for s/o to join Chuya on jobs.

✿ Turns out she was born without any kind of agility. She was the most human you could get, but that didn’t stop him from admiring her. She seemed like a mystery at first.

✿ S/O was capable of high levels of martial arts, even rivalling him. Though Chuya still would have the upper hand, just from having a little more experience in the mafia.

✿ s/o would lure people in with her singing, then he’d deal with them.

✿ S/O gained the nickname ‘ Siren ‘ for her beautiful vocals, while deadly even without Chuya at her side.

✿ After almost a year working together, Chuya gained feelings for the women at his side. the feelings were mutual, s/o and Chuya were just too caught up in work to confess.

✿ He would compliment s/o for a job well done, her singing was truthfully very alluring.

✿ It was only recently where he found her on an empty bridge in Yokohama.

✿ She seemed to be preparing to sing on her own, maybe practicing for future missions. If she sung on the streets she’d probably make more money then the mafia gave her.

✿ Chuya kept himself hidden away in the shadows of night, watching his s/o who was doing small exercises for her vocals.

✿ S/O began to sing opera, which was new to him. Shutting his eyes, Chuya couldnt help but smile. He never saw himself dating such a talented young women. Someone to call his own.

✿ Even when he’d murder someone before her eyes, she never once seemed disgusted. Never found herself question his motives, not even tease him for his outbursts.

✿ He adored his s/o through in through.

✿ When his s/o finishes singing, he’d finally reveal himself. out of the blue, his s/o would be pulled into a hug.

✿ “ That was beautiful, who knew i’d date someone so damn talented. Holy shit. “

✿ Chuya wouldn't bombard his s/o in compliments like others, it would be more shown through actions. A kiss on the head with his arms wrapped around her waist.

✿ Chuya would be happy, alone on the bridge with s/o.

✿ Overall this man would get a little distracted on missions because of that beautiful voice, may have to snap him out of it during serious times. Be prepared for hugs, and many pecks on the lips.

Bonus !! Port Mafia Dazai

✿ Dazai first met his S/O in Lupins bar, one night where he went to meet with Odasaku for a couple drinks. He heard a women in the opposite corner of the bar humming to herself.

✿ Having nothing to do with her, the smaller hums were relaxing to just think during before he made his leave.

✿ Frequent visits later- Dazai found himself showing up for her, more then the drinks. Often alone, he’d just come to listen to the women hum, or even sing sometimes.

✿ She rarely properly sung in order to leave the peace at the bar serene. Having no interest in making someone uncomfortable.

✿ One day he visited and finally spoke to her, even praising her just for a mere tune that created a beautiful atmosphere in a normally gloom bar.

✿ Days on end, Dazai would insist on her singing for him. Free time? he’d be spending that time at the bar. He was often curious as to why the talented women was stuck at a cheap bar like Lupins. Yet, she never seemed to answer his question. So he left it be.

✿ That’s how they end up getting closer and started dating. Visiting almost everyday to see one another- The women never questioned his often dull expression as days pass by.

✿ Who knew she had been the single thing keeping him to hold some faith in humanity, or even himself.

✿ As the visits became daily and they started dating, she often would leave the bar and sing for Dazai outdoors. It allowed her to use all her vocals, no matter how loud she may be.

✿ Hums, small tunes, singing then- Opera. Something she always found interest in. Feeling confident to sing for Dazai after really knowing each other.

✿ The first time his S/O grabs his hand before he even sat himself down, he knew something was up. Rather it was good or bad had been the real question.

✿ “ I wanted to try something new for you “

✿ Dazai had no idea what he was instore for, but accepted it anyways. Sitting himself on the ground crisscross.

✿ That was the first time she had sung an Opera for him. It was purely her voice, no instruments in the background or some music video online. It was live, right in front of his eyes.

✿ Boy was this mafia executive in Awe. His S/O was beautiful, and not just that. She was talented !!

✿ Dazai being in the mafia hasn’t any experience in the world of singing, yes he often would hum random tunes through boredom. But her voice was so strong, and held control throughout the whole performance.

✿ Once his S/O finished singing, Dazai was speechless. Eyes sparkling like a child as he stands up and grasps her hands. There was hardly space in between them, but he pays no attention towards that.

✿ “ That was outstanding !! How’d you do that ?? “

✿ Honestly he didn’t give her time to answer his question, before asking a million more. Dazai was just in love with her voice, even more than before. It was stronger then any person he’s fought against. How could someone be so talented and it not be an ability or something?

✿ Overall this boy is in shock, he’s absolutely in love with the singing and insists on his s/o doing it more for him on the days off work.

#bsd #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs #bungo stray dogs x reader #Nakajima Atsushi #Nakajima Atsushi x reader #Dazai Osamu #x reader #Dazai Osamu x reader #Kunikida Doppo #Kunikida Doppo x reader #Chūya Nakahara #Chūya Nakahara x reader #Mafia Dazai osamu #Mafia! Osamu dazai x reader #Port mafia #Smoochi dazai

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miss-kittys-magical-library · 3 years

Text

Into The Mystic

(Leon x Honey one shot)

Warnings: smut and fluff

A/N: Honey and Leon get what some people don't, another chance at their first time. It's my birthday, and I'll continue getting my faves laid if I want to!!

Leon felt uneasy about their move to Manhattan. Honey had spent several years on the run from the FBI. But she slipped her old neighborhood on like the coat he bought her their first Christmas. It was warm and familiar to her.

Leon, on the other hand, was anxious. He still looked over his shoulder the last few weeks. He was unable to let go of the idea that they were squared up with both organizations. Honey and Kidman got them to out bet one another based on all the documents Leon had hidden in his belongings when they left London after.. Not only were they clear, they got to keep the money. But not without an ominous warning that the couple might owe them a favor in the future.

In The Village, Honey and Leon's flat was spacious. They had a massive kitchen and living area. A clawfoot bathtub and shower and both of them could spend time together without banging elbows. There were two bedrooms and a walk-in closet. A room too large for an only child like Selina, but there was hope more kids may one day follow. There was a fire escape for plants and smoking weed late after the little one went down. Most importantly, they had a king sized bed and a master room they never had to split with anyone.

Leon sat on the edge of their giant bed and waited for Honey. Whatever it was she was doing in the closet. He waited for her with patience for the last year, the last few weeks, these last hours until Selina went for her nap.

Despite being together again, he hadn’t actually been WITH Honey. He forgot how much he loved sex with her. He was always too high since she and her pregnancy left London for India. He stayed faithful and wanked to the photos she left behind. Or the erotic letters she wrote. So much had happened, he settled for her kisses and held her while she slept.

“Fuck yeah! I found them! Ok just a few more minutes, alright. Sugar did a number on my body, not sure if they’ll fit.” Honey shouted out at Leon from the depths of the closet.

“Your body is quite lovely,” Leon claimed. “All soft curves ‘n’ such. You haven't given me a go at seeing you proper naked since everything. I miss it. Bring it out here, lemme get a toss in?”

“That's what I'm trying to do, you knob!” Honey waved a hand from inside the closet. Her arm covered in leopard print. “I'm just nervous is all.”

Leon's eyebrows raised, “You taking the piss? Honey Comb, nervous about sex. With me? I reckon you're the sexy one between the two of us, yeah? Those hips and tits, like a sculpture. Bloody hell I'm built like a baby deer. You made me shave, and I look like a mental teenager.”

“Fuck’s sake, Leon! You look exactly like you did the day we met. That's what is doing me in. Of course I've got nerves, we haven't had sex in over a year. It's like, our second first time or something.”

He never thought of it like that, but she was right. They were getting reacquainted. Having to adjust to new roles as parents and partners. Leon had to adjust, Honey had six months on him with the baby. It was gobsmacking how quickly she settled in as his number one thought. How his brain now switched automatically from having sex with missus to his daughter.

Selina with her big, dark eyes like Mummy, but Leon's wild curls. The way she hardly fussed and loved being bound up to his chest as they walked the city. She would stare at him and tilt her head around to make sure Honey was still there too. Then she would smile around her pacifier, and that was Leon's too. A much better picture to fill his head at night than the agent with an axe protruding from his back and dead bodies he stepped over as they hurried away.

Leon clenched his eyes shut from the memory. He inhaled deep and exhaled slow, but his hand trembled with a craving for opium or or anything. Except he went cold turkey the moment they got in the back seat of that Mustang Kidman stole. He was clean, except the odd joint. Honey said that wasn't the same, it calmed his nerves. Healthier than a head shrinker.

“Close your eyes, alright?! I had to set up the record player. God I hope watching my godmother paid off.”

Leon obliged, “Done!”

He could sense Honey in front of the bed as the music started. A giant, dopey grin spread across Leon's face when he opened his eyes, “Alright, doll.” He leaned back to watch.

Honey started to twist her body to the ground with her back to him. She held the leopard coat tight around herself as her hips started to sway to and fro hidden by the giant jacket. She opened one side to reveal a bare shoulder that she rolled to the music. Then repeated again with her other shoulder before she dropped the coat enough to show her bare back right above where a bra strap would be. Leon bit down hard on his lip.

Honey covered herself and spun to face her partner. She opened the jacket to reveal a strapless bra, high waisted black panties and thigh highs held up by a garter belt. Leon squirmed in his spot when she placed a foot beside him on the edge of their bed.

Her hips never stopped their movement as she unsnapped one stocking and started to roll it over her leg and over her knee. She stepped out of it and hung it over Leon's shoulder. She switched to the other side and placed that foot beside Leon now. He grabbed her ankle, but she slapped at him playfully and shook her head. Her finger wagged back and forth.

Now Honey leaned her body forward like she was going to sit in Leon's lap. It was so quick, he almost lost balance. She did this rhythmically a few times before presenting her garter belt to him and gestured he undo this one. He was all too happy.

Leon started to pull the nylon forward once it was freed. He palmed the soft skin of Honey's inner thigh and the back of her calf as she let him take this side off. He couldn't help bending to kiss the same spot on her body where his hand had been. She didn't stop him as his lips trailed her knee and calf. In fact she forgot herself when he looked up at her with his bright, verdant eyes.

“Stop!” Honey’s cheeks were pink and hot with embarrassment. “You're making me forget what I'm doing! I'm trying to make this special for you.”

Leon’s hands traveled up Honey’s hips and waist and splayed out along her back under the fur coat. He buried his face between her breasts and showered them with kisses that moved down. His fingers alternated between massaging her back and backside all while his tongue traced the line in the center of her stomach and dipped teasingly into her navel.

“We have a daughter together. I'm your husband, and you’re my wife. Blimey, you chose me for some reason. That's the biggest mystery of this bloody universe.”

Honey’s fingers tangled and untangled and tangled again throughout Leon's hair. She melted her body into his as he spoke. She held his head to her chest. “What's a mystery?”

Leon unhooked her bra with little effort. It fell to the floor so he could lose himself one more time in her cleavage. This time his hot mouthsucked on her hardened nipple. He switched to the other and teased it with his tongue. Honey's grip tighter on the back of his head as she urged him back towards her stomach.

“That you love me,” Leon’s response muffled. He bit at the waistband of her panties and tugged it down and off with her help.

Honey was naked under the big coat and stood exposed to her husband. A body she wouldn't show him the last few weeks. Leon drew her foot back up to the bed. His eyes gawked at her breasts and her stomach and her pubic hair. She couldn't tell what he was thinking, but all of her own thoughts rushed out of her head when he suddenly slid two fingers inside her.

“Fuck!” Honey cried out and dug her nails into Leon's shoulder.

He dove them in and out of her body. Hooked them just a bit and kept pumping at the wetness and her slit. His eyes on her sex as he did it almost fascinated by how deep they went. His middle finger found her clit which he fondled momentarily before he replaced his fingers with his mouth and tongue.

Leon flicked his tongue back and forth like a snake. He held Honey's backside and pulled her onto his face. His mouth and tongue worked together to elicit cries of pleasure from the woman in his arms. It goaded him into going faster until he knew she couldn't take anymore. He withdrew his tongue and sat back to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. A satisfactory grin dimpled his cheek.

Honey got her hands on Leon's boxers and yanked them down and off. She went to take the coat off but he shook his head. His eyes begged her to leave it on. So she did as she straddled his willowy body and took his cock in her hand. She positioned it just outside her entrance and teased the head with it. She ran it just outside and Leon agonized in her grip.

“Honey,” that familiar drawn out whine like music to her ears before she sank down onto him.

Leon's hands splayed out across Honey's back once more as she started to ride him. Her hips undulated back in time with the rhythm of the record that had started over in the background. Arms draped in a lackadaisical fashion over his shoulders.

Leon raised his hips to just immerse himself inside her walls as she bucked on his lap. His hands on Honey's waist to aid in the powerful back and forth motion.

Neither was sure if it was the build up or how long it had been since their last time, but Leon didn't last. That was ok Honey kept reassuring him as he let go of everything and came. A tremble coursed through Leon as she hugged him tightly, both their hearts beat wildly and out of control. Honey didn’t cum, and that was alright too.

Then Selina began crying from the other room, and Honey's breasts started to leak milk on instinct. Leon's chest was wet, and he held his wife back to stare at them as they did the other function boobs were meant to perform.

“Right on,” he said simply with a nod of his head.

Honey stopped being mortified right then of the way it looked, or the things her body was doing because of the baby. Their baby.

This sweet, intelligent, passive, lithe, sexy man beneath her with the eyes like moss and angled jaw and fuzzy eyebrows and messy hair wanted her. Leon would always want Honey. At 23. At 25. At 36 and 43 and 57. For now they were just getting re-started.

Tag list: @robertsheehanownsmyass @elliethesuperfruitlover @frogs--are--bitches @super-unpredictable98 @slutforrobbiebro @badsext @nightmonsters @bisexualnathanyoung @rob-private

#robert sheehan #robert sheehan character fics #leon #leon x honey

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aizawaskittenwhore · 3 years

Text

𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐮𝐭

words:3.7k

pairing: aizawa x fem!reader

warnings: tw mention of blood, tw mentions of death, mentions of drugs in case you forgot this is a cartel au, murder, swearing, keigo being a cocky lil fucker, sexual harassment towards the end cause yakuza men suck

rating: 18+ cause shit gets real this chapter

a/n: i FINALLY FINISHED IT FUCK YES chapter two mothafuckas!!! i’ve been having so much fun brainstorming everything to come, and here you’re gonna really get a feel for how big this cartel is. player two, f/n l/n, you’re up! <3

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐨: 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐝’𝐬 𝐞𝐲𝐞 𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰 ↳ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞

September 13th, 2181

2:56pm

Musutafu, Japan

“Hold the fuck up. This doesn’t make any sense, I mean—these are Pros. Well known and well respected Pros, at that. The hell would they be tryna’ run a fucking cartel for?!?” Ken Takagi (more commonly known as Rock Lock) rubbed the bridge of his nose in confusion, not understanding the motive or correlation. “I mean think about it. These motherfuckers got more money than they know what to do with. Endeavor is a shareholder in goddamn Nintendo, Hawks owns his own fucking agency and line of sports cars, and I could’ve sworn I saw Eraser getting Shinsou fitted for a fucking Cuban on his birthday a few months ago. It’s not like they’re strapped for cash these days.” Ken huffed, the agent’s arms crossed as he leaned back in the conference chair.

In an attempt to try and broaden the range on your current investigation, your department recruited the help of several Pros to provide reinforcements in Japan, the States, and wherever else sales were being made. Going undercover was already plenty dangerous, and going alone was the equivalent of signing your own death warrant. Enlisting the help of Rock Lock, Ryukyu, Miruko, Fatgum, Edgeshot and plenty of others was relatively easy; these were Heroes that had experience with smugglers and narcotics-based operations, so when you’d approached them with the task at hand, they’d happily agreed.

However, some needed more convincing than others.

“Takagi. Think about it. Sure, they may not be living paycheck to paycheck, but look at the timeline.” You state, looking over your shoulder towards the holographic board displaying an interactive timeline of the investigation, including photos, invoices and even audio recordings pulled from surveillance cameras. “Two years ago, we seized a truck containing approximately 78 kilograms of crack cocaine. When we questioned the driver on where he was taking it and where he got it from, he didn’t budge. Luckily for us, the dumbass wasn’t smart enough to avoid a paper trail, leaving the insurance documents in the glove compartment when we’d taken him into custody. The insurance company was under the name “Target Lance”, but after doing some digging on the name we found out the corporation went bankrupt six months before and was eventually bought out by Chevrolet.” Pausing to return to the screen welded to the wall behind you, your hands swiped as you searched for the file reading December 5th, 2178: A live video feed of a towering skyscraper being built, the building’s name reading “Chevrolet Corvette Inc.” as it hovered above tens of stories above each worker.

“But you all haven’t heard the name Chevy in a while right? That’s because two weeks after that building was built, the hundred-million dollar company was bought out by Takami Corporate-”

“-who owns Takami Motors. Which is the brand associated with the Peregrine Speedsters, Hawks’ damned sports car line.” Ken finished for you, brown spheres twinkling in sudden clarity. “Now you’re speaking my language.” You nod, hands waving as you continue to brief the room of Pros.

“The Todoroki and Nintendo console collaboration didn’t happen until about earlier this year, March to be specific. Which is quite convenient..since around that time the price of cocaine per gram stabilized in both America and Japan, rising from $112 to $138 bucks a pop. I’m nobody to speak on looks either, but for as long as we’ve known of him, Eraser has dressed like a depressed college student with insomnia that doesn’t understand the concept of soap or a pair of clippers. Now he’s got his wife in Cartier bracelets and getting his shirts tailored because the collar “doesn’t allow him enough room for his capture weapon”?!? Bullshit.” You huff, stifling a smile as you watch Miruko and Edgeshot snicker in their seats at your...blunt observation.

“It makes sense. Three years ago all our agencies, including those overseas, started cutting our checks down by half. They can barely afford to pay us a quarter of what we used to make, and these guys are making these lavish purchases while we all starve?? No way. Something’s fishy, and it’s damn sure not this takoyaki.” Fatgum spat, hands quivering with rage as he struggled to grasp the food with his chopsticks.

“Fatgum’s right. Hero unemployment is at a staggering 8.7 percent. Meanwhile, these men are spending money like it’s going out of style. It makes no sense.” Miruko pondered, Ryukyu folding her hands in her lap as she voiced her approval for immediate action. Edgeshot nodded in agreement, brows furrowed in frustration at this blatant disregard for the law. “So we’re all in agreement that our own people have resorted to breaking the law. Cool, got it. Question is, why? And what the hell are we gonna do about it?” Ken demanded, his patience having worn thin from all this speculation.

“Good question. I think they’re trying to take advantage of the tough spot the Hero Commission is in right now, manipulate that vulnerability and use it for their own gain. They’re not invulnerable to the tough times Pros are facing in the workforce. So they’ve gotten together to try and make it work for them, even if it means breaking the law.” You query, hands typing furiously at the virtual screen to pull up the files of each Hero, displaying all the current information on them from their blood type to each known family member. “These three banding together though? Along with other people? There’s no way. They hate each other. Or at the very least couldn’t get anything done even if they did have a common goal in mind.” Edgeshot murmured lowly.

“I thought so too. But then it hit me: it’s not just some flimsy group project. Sure, crime has gone up since the formation of this cartel, but nobody who holds any rank has been murdered or harmed in any way. No no no, these guys are singing in tune for now...which means there’s a damn good choir director among them. So I’ve volunteered to go undercover, work my way through this organization and figure out just how high up this goes.” You assert, shoulders rigid and chin aloft as the harnesses of your costume frame your figure.

“Alone?? Are you outta your goddamn mind? Let me go, you’ll need back up-” Rock Lock sputters, hands fanning out in shock.

“No way. What about your wife, your kid?! This isn’t just some average drug bust, we’re dealing with powerful men in possession of superhuman abilities that have the game on lockdown. You’ve got too much to lose, more than any of us anyway. Edgeshot and I will go, we’ve seen the other side of the law before, and our quirks are better suited for stealth should anything go wrong.” You fire, eyes narrowing into slits. “The rest of you will be working in tandem with the DEA and our resources, and we’ll report back to you with all future developments. We’ll also need you to be ready to fight at a moment’s notice, if we need it.”

A thick silence clogged the air, Ken settling back into his seat across the table. His amber eyes flickered in irritation before huffing in acceptance, the situation being out of his hands. All the conference participants’ gazes fixed in determination, some with anger. The tense aura weighed on everyone present before Miruko cleared her throat, ivory teeth gleaming in a smirk.

“Well we’ve got a solid plan. So all I wanna know is...when do we start?

June 2nd, 2182

In all honesty...you thought the nickname was just a sad attempt to stroke his ego. But seeing the way over seventy commercial-size planes and approximately 30 seaplanes sat aloft balmy concrete in the Guadalajara sun showed you exactly why they called Hawks “Lord of The Skies”. Arrays of laborers with avian-oriented quirks loaded kilo after kilo of coke on to each and every plane, some by hand and others by forklift. Welders were personally hand selected by Keigo himself to eliminate the issue of utilizing every available inch of space; each vessel having been stripped of everything from the seats to the built in mini-bars (much to Keigo’s chagrin). From where you stood in the scalding hot beams, the runway seemed to extend for miles as it brimmed with visible heat-waves.

Dressed in a simple black tank top, black biker type shorts, aluminum plated gauntlets, steel toed combat boots and harnesses that encapsulated the curves of your body before coming to a stop at your thighs, you silently rejoiced in the airflow your gear allowed you in spite of the color. The bandanna atop your hairline helped to absorb some of the sweat, which was a bonus.

“Not bad for a starter fleet huh? The wingspan on these babies almost makes me jealous.” A rich and decadent voice called from your left. Sleek carmine appendages and brassy blond hair entered your peripheral vision, giving way to the man who ran the show: Keigo Takami. Adorned in a pair of low rise denim jeans that were so incomprehensibly tight they accentuated every bit of his dick (which was likely intentional), a plain white tee and ebony cowboy boots that looked like they cost three times what you make in a week; he most definitely looked the part of the People Magazine’s “Sexiest Man Alive” and Playboy’s “Player of the Month” titles he’d earned. Luminous olive skin glistened with sweat, droplets sliding down the deep v neck of his shirt with ease; the way the daisy-hued fabric stuck to his crafted abdomen leaving nothing to the imagination. Tourmaline and Argentium piercings dangled effortlessly from both ears, and if you weren’t so hell-bent on putting the motherfucker in jail you would’ve had no problem admitting how attractive he really was.

“Starter fleet? You’re about to put Delta out of business, look at this shit!” You guffaw, arms folded, an eyebrow raised in astonishment at his “humble” admission. “Flattery will get you everywhere, and then some.” Keigo chuckles, breath hot against your ear the instant he bends at the waist, hands settled in his pockets with that cocky aura about him.

“-And having your damn breath against my ear in 107 degree weather will, respectfully, get you my foot up your ass. I didn’t fly down here to get treated like one of your poor interns. I came here to make money, so let’s talk it.” You lash, the climbing tempature slicing your tolerance for bullshit to shreds.

“Shit. Straight to the point huh? I like it. You wanna talk shop, say no more. Over lunch though, I’m starving out here.” Keigo clicks his teeth with a grin, escorting the two of you towards the very jet he’d arrived in. “A little unknown fact about me, usually I hate flying ”conventionally”. Gives me anxiety, and I’m awful company when I’m nervous.”

Settling into the light taupe hued cabin, you observe the not-so-subtle elements of class. Ivory shochu bottles with intricate crystalline glasses to match, the bar fully stocked with gold accents along the upholstery. Plates of costly Kobe style beef rested atop spotless porcelain, romaine lettuce coupled with grilled applewood bacon, chicken, avocado and buttermilk dressing settled into envy-inducing black marble bowls. The plane was spacious, and certainly cost a pretty penny or two. “You’re upfront, so I’ll be honest with you. As of right now, this plane is the last thing I’m worried about-” Hawks mutters lowly, dijon eyelets tapering into thin slivers.

“-It’s the Shie Hassaikai making their encore appearance, and with the Colombians at that.”

You choke on a sip of Vega Sicilia, pupils dilating at the thought.

“Now you spoke about wanting to make some money, right?” You nod, heart rate steadily rising.

“What if I could offer you something more? Something of...extensive value.” Keigo drawled, dark undertone flooding the air like a thick smoke. “Like what, Takami?” You inquire.

“A seat at the table.” He shrugs, like one would if they were discussing something as trivial as ice cream flavors or Friday night plans, not the reorganization of a crime syndicate. “You’ve been workin’ for me shy of a year now right? Somethin’ like that? Anyway..”

He takes a deep, contemplative swig of the chestnut liquid, eyes boring into yours.

“You’re efficient, and you don’t take anyone’s shit. Good help’s hard to find in our line of work, and before you know it, this little hierarchy is gonna go under some..reorganization. Only the people who aren’t afraid to get their hands dirty will have a place in the new order, so I want you there.”

“What’s the catch? I’m not dumb enough to just assume this is some promotion for busting my ass.” You tread, brain working double-time to try and decipher just what Keigo’s getting at. “Clever girl. It’s a simple task, in and out.” He assures, middle and ring finger sliding a matte-finish photo across the mahogany. Displayed was Kinan Zango, a member of the Shie Hassaikai’s middle rankings shaking hands with Joaquin Fuentes, a Columbia native known for having a body count in the double digits.

“Another fact about me: Only one thing heightens my anxiety more than planes...people who fuck with my money. This asshole Kinan’s been selling my routes to the fucking Columbians and pocketing the profits, and getting 20% of the product as a little “thank you” when he knows nobody moves coke through the Gulf other than Takami fucking Keigo. He’s becoming a problem, and I don't like those.” Kei growls, left eye twitching minutely. His nails are sinking into the polish of the wood, his energy vehemently furious.

“Take care of this for me, and you’ll be my plus one to Guadalajara tomorrow.”

The general public often made the mistake of writing Keigo off as just your average “pretty boy”. Whereas a trained eye could see that while he may be pretty, he was nobody to be tested. The sheer intellect he possesses to seek, hand-craft each and every route, assign planes to their designated locations along with alternatives should there ever be an issue? He just didn’t get enough credit.

So he took major offense when someone had the audacity to treat his hard work as though it was theirs.

Besides.. you got a man with looks, money and bloodlust? Tch. You’ve just created a monster.

You weren’t necessarily opposed to the idea of ridding the world of another drug-dealing degenerate, but the idea of casually committing a murder as a DEA agent in a foreign country just didn't sit right with you. Undercover agents weren’t permitted a “license to kill” should the investigation call for it either, so it was between committing a murder as government agent, or declining Keigo’s request and missing out on a front row seat to the cartel’s entire operation.

The silence that followed his sentence was deafening. Ice cubes chimed loftily as they swirled around inside his glass, clear liquid sloshing around while he awaited an answer.

Your jaw sets, eyes piercing into his.

“Consider it done.”

Blood spattered onto the pale concrete, moonlight illuminating the scarlet hues. Your knuckles throbbed with pain, the sensation blossoming through your hand as your lips curled back in a snarl, vigorously ridding your hands of the other man’s bodily fluids.

“ If you really think coming after me for that bird brained motherfucker is gonna change anything, you got another thing fucking coming.” Kinan spat, nose steadily flowing with red. His lip was busted, face splotched with yellowing purple bruises. Tugging at his restraints he thrashed, mouth spewing white-hot venom.

“You’re talking a lot of shit for a middle-ranking yakuza who thinks some new coke routes is gonna keep the Hassaikai from dumping your body on the side of some road in Zacatecas.” You observe, sending a harsh kick between the mans ribs, steel toed boots making an audible crack. “The Japanese are like Dixie Cups to them...”‘use em’ once, then throw em’ away”, right? You’re a fool if you think your days aren't numbered once you wear out your welcome.”

“Fuck you. You’re little boy toy threw a temper tantrum, so he sent you to “take care of things”, isn’t that right?” Kinan coos, eyes softening in a mocking pout.

“Trust me, you're not the first slut Takami’s been sticking it in that he’s sent to kill me. Only difference between you and the rest of those bitches-” He huffs, head craning back against the metal chair to let our a soft breath of laughter. “-is that you’re gonna put up a fight.”

Suddenly his bones began to shift, popping and snapping as his skin began to pool below him; you recoiled in fear watching his body slowly slip from his imprisonment like gelatin exits a mold.

“I’ve got elastic bones kid! Whatever breaks just snaps right back into place.”

Skin stretching and pulling as he regained his original form, legs sprinting towards you. Before you could fire off your Quirk’s sonic blast his grip seized the back of your neck, a blade taking residence just below your left eye; it’s tip pressing uncomfortably into your water line.

“Now, if you're good, I’ll make it quick. Though I’m known for being pretty... through with my toys.” Kinan leers, a hand slowly slithering down your sides to reach for the muscle of your ass.

“Go to hell, and die there while you’re at it!” You shout.

Bile creeping into your throat, you seize the momentary shift in energy, generating a small sound wave that sent Kinan a few feet to your left; giving the two of you some distance. Your Quirk allowed you to absorb sound to power-up your physical movements, or send it out in the form of sonic blasts or sound waves, so the louder the sound, the more power it gave you. Readying your fists in anticipation for combat, you silently willed for a sudden disruption in the deafening silence as he rushed back to your rigid body.

What you didn’t anticipate was that the sudden bang that filled the air, and the lifeless body of Kinan dropping to your feet with a thud, his head...

excavated, for lack of a better word.

“Don’t you know the entire point of having backup while under cover is to... call for backup?” Edgeshot snarked, striding towards you, gun settled back into it’s holster. His foot carelessly nudged the bleeding man before removing a Polaroid camera from his knapsack and snapping a photo of the carnage.

“W-what the fuck?! Look, I don’t mean to sound ungrateful when I say this, but what the absolute fuck did you just do??? We’re government agents, in a foreign country, we can’t just fucking murder these assholes nor do we have the license to-” You sputter, brows arching in frustration.

“This was your ticket into Guadalajara. I just secured you box seats when you were this close to getting stuck in the damned nosebleeds. I believe the correct words you’re looking for are thank you.” Kamihara snaps, shoving the photo into your hand.

“We’re in a world completely different from our own. It’s forgiveness first, and permission later down here. I don’t like it either...but it’s just the way things are.” He sighs, hanging his head while his shoulders settled like the solar system rested on them.

“I’ll take care of this. Now take that to Hawks, and don’t you dare fuck it up. Don’t let me have killed this poor asshole in vain.”

You nod, stepping over Kinan’s body.

Good riddance.

“Thank you, by the way.” You putter. Kamihara returns the sentiment with a nod, before turning to the corpse before him, phone raised to his ear as he spoke with whoever was on the opposite line, eyes that were once grey now swam with deep scarlet.

“Excellent work! I won’t lie, I had a feeling you were hardcore, but damn, this is some seamless shit! You deserve my praise.” Keigo beams, pearly teeth sparkling in the light of the cabin. Nodding in acceptance you grasped his hand upon his offering, permitting him to escort you towards your respective aircraft.

“Well, a promise is a promise. And if nothing else, I’m most certainly a man of my word. Meet me at this airstrip same time tomorrow, 8am. Pack light, Mexico’s a bitch in the summer, though you already know that.”

“Got it. Pleasure doing business with you, Hawks.”

“Call me Keigo, if you want. I hate all the formal shit, long as we got respect, that's all I need.” He shrugs.

“Understood. See you tomorrow, Keigo.” You affirm, climbing the ladder to your jet, body visibly relaxing at the thought of rest.

“Wait--before you go, I wanted to ask ya. What’s with the whole ancient hieroglyphics tat you got goin on, on your spine? It just looks familiar, is all.” He queries.

Home.

November 12th, 2174.

“Y/N! I found somethin’! It’s this super cool protection rune I found in grandma’s things. Check it out! It wards off all evil, and whoever’s in possession of it can, like, balance their energy with the divine power.”

“You’re such a hippie, I swear to god.” You grin.

“Don’t hate because my chakras are balanced and yours aren’t, bitch.” She grinned, index and thumb coming together to flick your forehead.

“At least take it with you for your exam, for good luck! Pleaseeeee! I think it’ll really help.” Her doe eyes melting your steely resolve. You could never deny her, those eyes constantly solidifying her role as the younger sister.

“...Only if you’ll clean my room for me when I come back for Christmas.” You demand, an eyebrow raised in mirth.

“Deal.”

And even though you never did admit it to her, that tiny piece of paper tucked into your bra did more for you during that exam than any late night cram session ever could’ve.

“It’s a protection rune. To ward off all evil energies, spirits and all that shit.” You mutter.

“Hm. Looks like it works, seeing how well tonight panned out for ya. Could use me one, would probably keep old man Todoroki out my fuckin’ hair.” He chuckles, hands releasing from the railing as he threw you a wave.

“But I wouldn’t worry too much about tomorrow, anyway. I got a feeling you’re gonna fit in just fine with us.” He smirked.

Ah.

If only that were true, Keigo.

taglist! : @liliesoftherainmain @therealwalmartjesus

#aizawa x female reader #mha x reader #aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa x reader #aizawa x you #mha #bnha x reader #hawks #nyafterhours

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westerhos · 4 years

Text

Our Story: Chapters 2-3

Thank you to everyone who has sent such lovely messages about this story! Happy to hear some of you are re-reading it while others are discovering it for the first time. Now for the next two chapters, which really should have been one...

[December 24th, 1990]

Their home is a modest one—a studio clinging to edges of the city, not far from where they first met. It’s an older building, mid-19th century, with pipes that freeze in the winter, burst like Scottish primrose in the summer. There is a single window on its western side, which welcomes the December-white sun at each day’s end. And it is here, lined along this sill, that Claire’s plants reach hungry towards the sky, try to trap this silver sliver of heat inside their veins.

Save for the flowers, theirs is an ascetic sort of décor. Sparse like a monk’s quarters—though Jamie and Claire hardly mind. They decorate the empty corners with their future, hatched in whispers during the night.

One day, Jamie promises, they’ll have Persian rugs and a four-poster bed. One day, they’ll own a leather sofa, its cushions like butter against Claire’s bare thighs. “And a vase!” she adds. “All fancy people have vases.”

But for now, they sleep on a musty twin cot, their belongings stored in the trunk at its foot. Jamie’s manuscripts are stacked inside, their pages marked in ballpoint scribbles and soil-dusted fingerprints. (“I canna read what this says anymore!” Jamie yells. “S’okay,” Claire says. “That paragraph was rubbish anyways.”) He’s an editorial assistant, the paltry salary worth the power of the red pen, which reshapes the written world to his liking. It buys food and rent, and covers what med school tuition Claire’s scholarship does not.

It’s a quiet life, but a happy life.

Claire yawns. “Did you know that every Christmas Eve my uncle told me a story? Made it up himself, right on the spot.”

“Are ye trying to tell me ye want a story?”

“I may be hinting at that, yes.”

“Ach,” Jamie says. Her favorite sound, every inch of him encapsulated in this strange, Scottish scoff. “Your subtly always turns me on.”

“Oh, hush. C’mon.”

He runs a hand through his hair, auburn and cinnabar limned in moonbeam.

“A good story on the spot? That’s no small amount of pressure, Sassenach.”

“How about a request then?” she offers, and Jamie raises a brow. “How about my favorite?”

“Yer favorite?”

“Don’t play coy. You know. The one you always start incorrectly? She is wearing a holiday sweater, a confection of silver bells and sequined penguins…”

“Weel, it’s a much better beginning than the ‘curl of my lips’…”

“Debatable,” Claire replies, tongue tracing the valley of his cupid’s bow.

But Jamie nods, chooses a different beginning this time: “It was immediate…”

He twists one of Claire’s curls around his finger and inhales. She still smells like the springtime, earthy and ripe, and perhaps there’s a hint of his own musk now, too. He likes it this way, enjoys finding proof of his existence somewhere beneath her skin. Permanent.

“Immediate!” Claire echoes, a one-woman Greek chorus. She is pressed into him, feeling his chest curve around her spine. It always surprises her how their bodies fit so perfectly, their limbs folding and molding to fill all their negative spaces. (And she has so many, our Claire, between her toes and between her ribs. Vacant rooms where her mother, her father, and her uncle once lived.)

“Aye, from the minute I saw ye, I ken you belonged wi’ me.”

“Mmm,” she hums, not saying, “Of course I felt the same thing,” or “Of course I loved you from the very first.” Because, of course, Jamie knows this already. (Strange, they both think, how the heart can move faster than the speed of light.)

“Speaking of which…” she says.

“Ye don’t want to hear the rest?”

“In a sec,” she replies. “But your friends seem to think we should get married. Dougal especially.”

“They do,” Jamie says softly. “And Dougal does—to him, maybe.” He brings Claire’s hand to his lips, smiles into the Christmas present he’s wrapped around her finger. A ring: one mounted pearl, taken from his mother’s necklace. (“No’ an engagement ring, mind,” though they both knew it meant forever.)

“Do you, though? Think we should get married?”

“I’ll do anything that means I can call ye mine.”

“You already can.”

“Aye, but I dinna think the law agrees wi’ you.”

“Devil take the law.”

Jamie laughs. “I reckon the Devil doesna want the law either, Sassenach. He hates the law.”

“You’re avoiding my question.”

“Which is?”

Claire turns towards him, remembers this past year together: their first date (Italian restaurant, 9PM showing of Pretty Woman), their first fight (broken coffee mugs, a noise complaint). She remembers the first time they made love in this small, crooked flat: middle of the floor, surrounded by packing boxes and crumpled newspaper. The bubble wrap had crackled beneath them—pop-pop-pop!—as if they were dancing on fireworks. (“I never want to leave this place,” she’d told him. He thought she’d meant the flat, but she’d meant his arms.)

“Which is…Well. Do you want to marry me, James Fraser?”

He squints. “Is that a proposal?”

“Yes.”

“Then why aren’t ye on your knees?”

“You bloody—”

Claire’s elbow swings towards his face, but Jamie catches it, stretches her arm back so that her palm lies flat against the wall. He rolls on top of her, leans down and lets her heart beat against his lips. Wills it into him until his blood thrums with it. The sound of their story.

“Yes,” Jamie says. “I want to marry you, Claire Beauchamp.”

“You mean Claire Fraser?”

He laughs; she smiles (they are both winners on this day).

“Aye. Beauchamp, Sassenach, Fraser.” His voice drops, a whisper: “My wife.”

[December 24th, 1991]

While Jamie and Claire’s studio remains the same, the flowers change with the turn of seasons: baby-skinned petals become felted cloth, neon-bright as they hang from a child’s mobile. The pots along the sill are gone, their soil-dust trails swiped away and their roots transplanted to a community garden. In their place, sits a collection of shiny, new tools for a shiny, new crib, which stands half-assembled beside the cot. The flower mobile blooms above it, suspended in silent wait for spring. For Faith.

Come April, Jamie and Claire will bring the sunshine into their home, no longer needing the single window and its lancing, evening light. Come April, they will have marigold walls, yellow linens, and bright rubber duckies floating in the sink. All of this for the baby that will sleep inside the shiny, new crib beneath the flowers that will never die.

Faith. This is the name they have given their future, no longer an unfurnished corner in their studio, but a growing presence inside Claire’s belly.

“Ugh!”

“That bad is it?”

“Worse than bad. I look like a whale who’s just fucked a Christmas tree.”

Jamie opens his eyes, his wife framed by his fingers, and he moves his hands to stifle a laugh.

“And a few wee penguins at that…”

“You’re not helping,” Claire whines, examining her reflection in the mirror. Rounded cheeks, rounder stomach; sharp lines blurred by months of pregnancy. All afternoon, she has scolded and cajoled, bribed and threatened, her cottons and nylons. But the fabrics have been stubborn, loath to surrender their bodily claims to the child pushing against them.

“Jamie, I can’t go out wearing this.”

“I dinna see how you’ve much choice in the matter, Sassenach. We should've gone to Waverly yesterday,” Jamie replies. The sweater—the same one she’d worn the evening they met—hugs her stomach. Tight but still discreet, the purest flash of flesh above her waistline. “Party’s at 8. We’ve no time to go shopping for a proper outfit. It’s either that or what God gave ye.”

“Oh, wouldn’t that be a treat? A naked, pregnant woman sipping virgin egg nog in front of the buffet. Happy bloody Christmas!”

“Angus wouldna mind.”

“Well, so long as the host is happy.”

“I wouldna mind.”

Claire snorts and twirls, as if to say, “Are you sure of that?” (He is, absolutely, and to the marrow of his bones.)

Jamie sighs. “D’ye want me to wear mine too?”

“You mean your lager-stained pullover? With the Santa looks that looks like he’s got vomit in his beard?

“Aye, that’s the one.”

“Yes,” she replies, grinning. She remembers where it lies amongst the rest of their clothes, just as she remembers its wooly scratch against her breasts two years before. Jaime’s hands (so much larger than hers, even then) lifting it up and over, laying her bare beneath the fluorescent lights of his dorm room. “Yes, I want you to wear your Belligerent Santa jumper.”

Jamie nods.

“And no beer for you, either. Just store-bought non-alcoholic egg nog. My misery needs company.”

“Fair is fair.”

“And—”

“There’s more?”

“Much more.”

“Ach, weel. Anything for the most beautiful woman in the room.”

“Oh, Rupert will be so grateful you think so, Jamie.”

“What are friends for?” He draws closer, vibrating. “But what about you, Sassenach?”

“Me? You’ll look more ridiculous than I will. I’ll be peachy and taking shots of fake egg-nog!”

Claire finds the sweater and throws it to Jamie, watches him catch the frayed and wrinkled ball of it. The hem is still an unraveled spool, which she winds and winds around her finger. Once, twice, three times until it marks her skin in a pale, white ring. She pulls it taut, feels the slow draining of her finger as the blood retreats, towards her husband. Electricity between them (the pipes groan, the winter thaw come at last).

“Now,” Claire purrs, “put that on so I can take it off you.”

“D’ye think we have time?”

“Of course we do,” she says. "We always have time." (Not always, not forever.)

“Well then,” Jamie says, bowing. “Your servant, madam.”

At this point, I still had no idea where I was going with this story, and I think that’s abundantly clear here. Regardless, I was very much taken with the “romanticism” of being poor, in love, and bohemian in New York City—so these two chapters are basically my written daydreams about being a young Patti Smith. Luckily, that never happened! Although I did wind up living in a tiny long-term Airbnb with an opera singer, a grand piano that took up the. entire. living. room., and a very uncomfortable futon that I slept on for my first 6 months in Brooklyn.

These are really the last ~~happy~~ chapters for a while, which is totally a reflection of the fact that I had moved to Brooklyn and was scared, lonely, and just generally very angsty, lol. So my apologies for what lies ahead.

One closing thought: Why did I choose Pretty Woman as Jamie and Claire’s first date movie, lol? Had I just watched it? Did I just associate the ‘90s with Julia Roberts romantic comedies? Did I not bother researching other movies that came out in 1990? Your guess is as good as mine!!!

#myfic #outlander #jamie fraser #claire beauchamp

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punkofsunshine · 3 years

Text

The (Informal) Miniature Anarcho-Solarpunk Manifesto

The integration of communalism into a classless system away from the main caste-esque system of hierarchy around the world is very costly when viewed from a consumer lens, but is essential in the degradation of the overbearing hierarchy that the main populace is subjected to and thusly become numb to the pressures placed upon them from an early age, spiral into endlessly consuming for a sense of being in a world that doesn’t care if you’re alive, to them you’re just a replaceable cog in the profit machine. The goal of the communalist, socialist, solarpunk, etc. should not be to live in their own bubble, but to expand their influence exponentially through participation with the outside world, turn a commune into a city as it were. Less people in a place that has dictated control by the state and the consumers within, the less control the state and capital have over people. A migration of people increases quality of life and food consumption, luckily food growth can be optimized to accommodate many people when given according to need as opposed to given to whomever has the money to afford produce. One must also keep in mind, the debt accrued is now a community responsibility, so the members will do everything in their power to keep people functioning in the community, that must include people paying off debts. Who are you if you let a fellow worker suffer on their own? Who are you to let a human such as yourself be subjected to the violence of the state in its many forms? Pushing back against such oppression is why we ascribe to this ideology, so we can taste freedom and save the earth from ourselves.

No individual is solely responsible for the pollution and poverty. Multiple corporations and their figureheads are. Jeff Bezos, Bill Gates, Bernard Arnault, Qin Yinglin & family, Michael Bloomberg, The Koch family, Jim Simons, Alaian & Gerard Wertheimer, Mark Zuckerburg, Amancio Ortega, Larry Ellison, Warren Buffett, the Walton Family, Steve Ballmer, Carlos Slim Helu & family, Larry Page, Sergey Brin, Francoise Bittencourt Meyers & family, Jack Ma, Ma Huateng, Mukesh Ambani, Mackenzie Scott, Beate Heister & Karl Albrecht Jr., David Thomson & family, Phil Knight & family, Lee Shau Kee, François Pinault & family. Sheldon Alelson, The Mars family, Elon Musk, Giovanni Ferrero, Michael Dell, Hui Ka Yan, Li Ka-Shing, He Xiangjian, Yang Huiyan & family, Joseph Safra, Dieter Schwarz, Vladimir Potanin, Tadashi Yanai & family, Vladamir Lisin, Ray Dalio, Takemitsu Takizaki, Leonid Mikhelson, etc. (Forbes) The list could go on, but I’m not about to list four-hundred people, the people have to change what the ruling class refuses to, hijacking corporate manufacturing and removing police of their power is essential. The police are targets due to the fact they protect corporate interests and stunt progressive growth, all of the people listed above refuse to let power be taken from them, there are too few people willing to make attempts to go after them because what would happen to their favourite source of consumption if that happened? What would happen to convenience? It would disappear, they don’t want to have to make things themselves, such is the first world’s entitlement. Doing without the convenience to save the environment should be a priority, things aren’t going to just get better on their own just because you installed solar panels and an eco-friendly water filtration system. The extent of the work that needs to be done is tremendous and must be organized efficiently and with regard to equivalency of power.

The world is in the process of ending due to all the turmoil we put it through, but the fact we’re more worried about comfort and convenience is very telling of what kind of culture western society has, instead of trying to fight those who destroy the environment and oppress us, we’re eager to mimic them. Why? Because they have and we have not. Such is the downfall of the consumerist mind. A majority of Americans think like consumers, not citizens, which is very telling because the anti-communist culture moted it be after the second world war. (Vox) There’s no telling where the zeitgeist is headed, but there’s political radicalization on both sides of the spectrum, sadly the other side of the spectrum is what we fought against, fascism, nazism, and authoritarianism. 2016 through 2020 were the worst years in terms of hate crimes committed on minority groups since the 60’s which is really saying something, neo-nazi groups sprung up and made themselves the focus, where there are fascists, there will always be anti-fascists or to be informal, antifa. I, the author am a background informant for the loose collective known as antifa, our job is simply to let people know where rallies are going down, we use pseudonyms and VPNs so we cannot be tracked. So why am I telling you this? Isn’t this supposed to be about what we can do to rebel against the systems that oppress us? Yes, and I’m getting there. There’s a reason I’m talking about fascism, and that is the fact fascism and capitalism are linked together.

Fascism/imperialism has been described as “capitalism in decay” by Vladimir Lenin due to the fact that neoliberalism is capitalism functioning as normal, communism post-capitalism, and fascism is capitalism going away slowly. It is an unjust and evil way of looking at the world, but once capitalists sense danger to their power, they fund fascism just so they can keep their power for longer. Anti-fascist action is also anti-capitalist action, for every nazi destroyed, we are one step closer to freedom. For every capitalist institution raided and demolished, we are one step closer to freedom. The city isn’t made of buildings that you can buy from, it’s made of the people who live there, so when the BLM protests occurred and stores were “looted” and burned, that was a form of praxis that hasn’t happened in years it was truly inspiring to see the people of Oregon (among other places) fight the police, fight back the alt-right, give capitalists the middle finger, create autonomous zones, and keep people from getting evicted during the pandemic. That is what communalism is partly about, supporting each other in the face of adversity no matter the cost of personal wellbeing, it’s the pinnacle of mutual aid.

Revolutionary action is one-hundred percent essential in securing future freedoms for not only generation Y, but generation Z and subsequent generations. As a member of generation Z, I feel fear, anger, and dread when it comes to climate change and the fact our generation will have to clean up the messes of the former generations when it comes to pollution, greenhouse gas emissions, unsustainable farming practices, soil health degradation, deforestation, the melting of polar habitats, natural disasters, etc. The weight of the world falls upon our shoulders and we realize this as a truth or we reject reality and follow in our parent’s footsteps and do nothing about it, it’s up to us, the most depressed and angry generation in the U.S.’s rather short history to right the wrongs made by former generations when most of us can’t even find motivation to get out of bed in the morning. I am writing this manifesto in my bed as I have been for the past week when I remember to write it down. It’s not enough to just write a theory however, put practice in it and it becomes more than just a talking point. It becomes a movement, how far you want to take it depends on you, but I do not condone violence against any of the people in the list above for strictly legal reasons. It is not absurd to think that we don’t have a snowball's chance in hell to stop the impending climate disaster that is about to fall onto us, because that assumption is correct. The best we can do is rebuild afterwards then hope and pray the next generation continues our work to restore the planet and maybe move outside our solar system, god willing.

I’ve tried writing a short solarpunk novel, I realized that the fiction may be important for outreach, but I was trying to add personal political theory to a narrative that’s supposed to be about a character’s internal conflicts as opposed to what I’m doing now, informal political theory, which is why I’m addressing you, the reader. I’ve read and listened to political theory in the past, and it’s incredibly dry and hard to pay attention to, don’t get me wrong, it’s important when you’re a part of various movements such as eco-socialism, communalist-anarchism, and anarcho-solarpunk, but I think it’s more important to connect with a reader or listener to make sure they understand the message before saying “do some praxis.” That is the goal here, not to be the leftist, humane version Ayne Rand, but instead instill in people a hope for the future that learns to do without mass manufacturing, that learns to make their own food sustainably, that learns that we all have a right to food, clean water, housing, medical treatment, and clean air without having to pay for all of those things. I may not be a part of the bottom percentage of people, but if I were my point would still stand strong, the notion that you have to work to get basic necessities is immoral on many levels, but in “free market” economies that’s the standard and I was as blind to it as most people before I found solarpunk, it started out by liking the aesthetic, but I started thinking about what we do to our planet and realized this isn’t just a bunch of pretty pictures, this is an idea for a utopian future entrenched in equality, sustainability, environmentalism, and anti-corpocracy.

Many people say that socialism has never worked, they give reasoning such as “Income inequality expands under socialism.” Which is just capitalist projection, during the 2020 pandemic, which is still ongoing at the time or writing, the rich got richer and the poor got poorer. “. . . in the months since the virus reached the United States, many of the nation’s wealthiest citizens have actually profited handsomely. Over a roughly seven-month period starting in mid-March – a week after President Donald Trump declared a national emergency – America’s 614 billionaires grew their net worth by a collective $931 billion.” (USA Today) The middle class, which skyrocketed post-feudalism/post-monarchy has been getting erased by the ruling class, which is the goal of capitalism. Capitalism is rooted in the aristocracy or the bourgeoisie and was created to have control over the masses without having a direct economic power structure overhead. Things may have gotten better for the growing middle class and the poor marginally, then the industrial revolution kicked in and everything went downhill from there. Pollution began with burning coal, the car came along, now it’s coal and oil, and so on until today where we have access to truly world-altering technologies, but what’s holding us back are the people who continue to exploit non-renewable resources for profit and solely profit. The betterment of mankind isn’t on the mind of the capitalist, they can avoid global catastrophe, they aren’t the peasants, they’re the monarchs. Why do you think billionaires fund space travel and cryogenics research? It’s not to better the rest of the world, it’s to get the hell out of dodge after global warming takes its toll and they have no more workers willing to fill their pockets by letting their labor be exploited. As I said above, it’s up to my generation to fix the mess they made. Maybe we’ll learn a lesson, or maybe we’ll die in the process, either way the situation is dire and action needs to be taken.

Who will take action? Well, if you made it this far into the manifesto without falling asleep or getting angry at the things I have to say, it’s you, me, and everyone else who cares, is tired of selling their soul, and wants freedom. Freedom, not via the dollar, but via being human. It matters not your ethnicity, skin colour, religion (or lack thereof), sexuality, gender, or anything else; you matter, the world matters, and it takes all of us to save it.

-A manifesto by Aeron Fae Greenwood

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sinner-as-saint · 5 years

Text

Questions

Run-through: While on a mission, you’re stuck in an area of a building with your fellow Avenger, Bucky Barnes with whom you may or may not have a love/hate relationship. And while waiting for someone to come rescue you, you both find quite an interesting way to keep yourselves occupied.

Themes: language, dirty talk, smut

“Ah, fuck this shit!” you exclaimed, kicking the old, rusty metal door one last time before sitting down on the dusty ground, panting and leaning your back against the same door the was shut. You had been trying to get that door to open for the past 15 minutes, with no success. So you gave up, hoping that the team would be able to track you down and come and get you out of this stuffy room.

“You’re trying in vain, doll. Save your energy, trust me,” your mission partner said. And God knows how much you hated the sickly sweet tone he used on you.

“Funny you say that, Barnes. You’re not even trying to get us out of here,” you replied, sarcasm dripping from your words as you leaned your head back, closing your eyes as you were exhausted.

You and the team set out on a mission earlier. The plan was simple; get off the Jet, sneak into this hauntingly old, gigantic abandoned building, take down whoever was in there, search the place for anyone held captive, destroy the remains of whatever barbaric transactions were taking place there and leave. But when you all decided to split just so you could search the place better and faster because the place was huge. HUGE. And, that’s when everything went to shit.

Steve, Nat and Clint were searching the east wing while you and Bucky were assigned to search the west wing, and the others explored the massive dungeons.

You and Bucky, despite sometimes being each other’s nightmare, were a very high-powered duo. Nothing could go wrong when you both worked together because your strength and skills complimented each other’s extremely well. But that was until the floor above you decided to collapse; trapping you in what seemed like an emergency panic room. Honestly, you only went in there because it seemed a little absurd when you thought about why someone would think of having a panic room in such a place.

So long story short, the floor above you collapsed for whatever reason and trapped you inside with Bucky and his annoying self. And you figured that the rest of the team were really far away because you could only hear static noises through the comms. You prayed to God that they found you as soon as possible.

“Guys? Anyone? Sam? Seriously, come and get me out of here. I don’t wanna die in this horrible place, with Bucky of all people. God, come on, where are the Avengers when you need them?” you tried reaching out to anyone who would hear but all you got was more static noises and you let out a long, dramatic sigh. Then you heard Bucky who let out a chuckle.

“You’re really dramatic you know that?” he asked, sitting down as well, his back against the wall facing you. The room was quite small so you were only approximately 10 feet away from each other.

“Is it dramatic to not wanna die in this awful place b-“you got cut off by a broken voice coming through the ear piece you had on.

“Hang on kid…heavy….we don’t-….coming…in...couple-…hours,” was all it said. And you soon realized that the voice was Tony’s.

“Tony? Tony can you hear me? Hello?” but you got no reply back. This time, even the static noise was gone.

Your face lit up when you heard that they were coming to get you, but did he just say a couple of hours? What the hell?

“At least now we know that they’re coming. Looks like all that whining finally paid off, huh, doll?” Bucky said, looking at you dead in the eyes.

“Yeah, what are we gonna do for another couple of more hours?” you sighed, leaning tour head back against the door, once again making a little thud sound.

He smirked.

“You know, I might have some things in mind,” he suggested, and even though you couldn’t see him, you knew he must have had that damned, cocky smile on his face.

You opened your eyes, grabbed your gun and aimed it at him.

“I will not sleep with you, ever. I wouldn’t fuck you even if you were the last man on Earth, Barnes,” you said, slowly lowering down you gun and placed it beside you again.

He laughed.

“I never said anything about sleeping with me. I was merely suggesting that, uh, game you and Nat were playing the other day. What is it, 50, 30 questions?” he asked and you shook your head weakly.

“We’re currently trapped in an old building, under a floor that just collapsed with our friends looking for us without any idea of where we could be because they can’t track us. And you wanna play 20 questions?” you couldn’t believe he just said that.

You knew he was quite a weird person but you never thought it’d come to this.

He shrugged. That damned, cocky smile still on his perfect face.

“I mean, we can’t just sit here and look at each other for hours. Might as well get to know each other better, and as Steve said, you and I need to work on our issues. So, 20 questions it is!” he sat up straight, still facing you.

He did have a point though.

“Okay, fine. I’ll go first. Barnes, how do you manage to reach such a soaring level of stupidity?” you sassed and he bit his lip.

Damn… wait what?

“Skills, doll. I’m next, what’s the one thing you’ve always wanted in life?” he asked, looking at you attentively.

You thought over it for a moment.

“Control. My turn, would you like to go in the future or the past?” you were beginning to notice an odd light in his eyes and you didn’t know why.

“The future. My turn, did you sleep with Thor the night you were both drunk, flirting shamelessly during the New Year’s party?” he asked, and your jaw was about to hit the floor.

Damn it, you knew this asshole would ask some dumb shit like this to make you uncomfortable. Why did you even agree to play this game?

“I, I can’t answer that. That’s private,” you simply said and he moved closer to you, to a point where he sat directly in front of you. Your boots touched his and his eyes stared into yours, unmoving.

“I supposed you’re forgetting a dirty little rule you made, doll. An unanswered question equals discarding an article of clothing. Now, answer me, or take something off,” he spoke calmly as he reminded you of the stupid rule you made the last time you played with Nat. You mentally kicked yourself for making such an immature rule in the first place.

“You’re such a pig! Okay, fine.” You zipped down your jacket and took it off. Leaving you in your leather pants, a tight, white tank top, under which was your red, lacy bra – the outline of which was very visible.

And suddenly, your skin felt very hot as Bucky took in your appearance. You were still very clothed but something about the way he was looking at you made you feel, naked. Very naked.

You avoided eye contact as much as possible while asking him your question.

“Okay, who do you think about when you masturbate at night?” you asked, keeping a straight face as one of his eyebrow raised.

He tilted his head to the side slightly and smirked again.

“What makes you think I think about someone? What if I say I watch porn like any other guy?” he asked, smirking.

You laughed.

“Because, you are not like other guys. Bucky, you can barely use Google. Now just answer my question, or take something off,” and it was your turn to smirk.

He let out a frustrated breath and took of his jacket. Under which he wore nothing. So within seconds, Bucky sat facing you, shirtless. And for the first time, you weren’t complaining.

“Like what you see, doll?” he asked, again with that damned, cocky smile on.

“Screw you Barnes, it’s your turn,” you said, eyeing him shamelessly.

His skin was so smooth. He barely had any scars except for many healed cuts around the point where his shoulder met his metal arm. And you suddenly felt bad for all the horrible things he had to go through alone.

“Hello? Y/N?” he waved his other arm in front of your face, dragging you back you reality.

“Yeah, sorry,” you said sheepishly.

“I asked, were you scared of me the first time we met?” his words weren’t laced with sarcasm anymore, but they did have a hint of mischief coating them.

“Absolutely not. My turn, do you ever take our bickering at heart? I mean, have I ever hurt you by saying something really harsh?” you asked, surprising yourself because you didn’t know where this question came from.

Did you really care about what he thought?

He smiled.

“Nah. Cause I know deep down, you’re a good person with a good heart. And really nice boobs too,” he answered, and a very smug expression displayed all across his face while his eyes stared at your cleavage.

You threw your jacket at his face, making him laugh as you shook your head.

“I’m sorry, but they’re there and you expect me not to look? Whatever, my turn, have you hooked up with Thor before?” he asked again, smirking.

He inched closer to you, placing his leg in between your ankles. And his eyes never left yours.

“I said I can’t answer that! Plus, you can’t repeat a question,” you argued but he wouldn’t listen.

“Rules are rules, sugar. Take it off,” he said, and tugged at your tank top.

Something took over you and without thinking, you got rid of the tank top. So you sat there, in front of him, only in a lacy, red bra and leather pants. Your hair did cover parts of your chest but it didn’t help the growing hard on in Bucky’s pants.

He didn’t think you did, but you noticed. And a devious, really, really unholy thought went through your head.

You folded your legs under your thighs and sat down on them again. This caused him to have to look up to you slightly.

“My turn, are you hard right now?” you asked, nonchalantly and you saw how his jaw almost dropped.

“I, uh, what?” he asked, as if unable to believe what he just heard.

“Oh you heard me, do you have a hard on right now, soldier?” you asked again, inching closer and closer to his lap until you straddled him.

His eyes rolled back when you moved your core against his hard length slightly. When he opened them again, you were smiling down at him.

“Yeah, yes I do,” he answered, smirking again. Why was he being so smug? You thought you had the upper hand in this situation.

“My turn, have you ever thought about me while using that little light pink vibrator on yourself, doll? And don’t lie, I heard you once or twice,” he cooed, kissing the side of your neck with certainty as he knew you could never answer that.

Your eyes widened in shock as you let out a little moan while Bucky left a trail of love bites along your throat.

His hands grabbed your ass and he pushed you into him slightly. You whimpered at the friction.

“I’d rather not answer that,” you simply said, getting off his lap abruptly.

You stood in front of him and unbuckled your pants, slowly taking them off. You watched how his chest rose and fell quickly as you took your time in slipping out of your tight pants.

You were turning him on and you liked it.

Once you got out of your pants, you dropped them on the floor and that’s when Bucky stood up as well.

“Oh wait. Are we done playing?” you asked innocently, as if unaware that your matching set of deep red lacy underwear wasn’t driving him crazy with desire.

He nearly moaned just at the mere sight of you.

“Don’t tease me, doll,” he said sternly, slightly grabbing your jaw with his metal arm. You giggled, grabbing him by the back of his neck, pulling him down so your lips hovered over his ear.

“You wanna know a secret? I always, always think about your metal fingers every time I use my vibrator,” you whispered innocently, placing a little kiss on his jaw line. And he let out a growl.

“Fucking shit! Do you have any idea of what I wanna do to you right now, doll?” he sounded like he was clearly frustrated. And you liked that.

He pushed your body backwards until you were trapped between him and the wall. His hand was at your waist and one was around your neck, causing your head to slightly lean backwards. His cold fingers wrapped around your warm neck made a certain wetness pool in your underwear.

“No, actually, care to enlighten me Barnes?” your wrists wrapped around his arm, giving him the hint that you liked it there.

He leaned in, his lips hovering over yours as you felt your heart beat insanely fast in your chest. A fiery, desire filled warmth filled your entire body as his dirty words filled your head.

“I want nothing more than to strip you naked and have my way with you, doll. And I know you want the same. I know you think of me when you get yourself off at night, but I assure you, I’ll make you feel better than your toys ever could babygirl. I wanna hear you scream my name as I make you come multiple times until you forget your own name, you want that, doll?” as he spoke, you felt a warm liquid dripping down your thigh. When you realized what it was, your blood rushed to your face. Bucky literally had you dripping wet with only his words.

“Fuck…” your voice trailed off as his hand caressed your inner thigh.

You let out a moan as his hand gripped your throat a little tighter. You smiled, looking up at him while slightly grinding your lower abdomen to his.

“You’re into choking, huh? And very needy too I see. Tell me, doll, what do you want?” he asked, pressing his entire body against your so you could feel all of him.

His skin on yours felt just right.

“I want you, Buck. Right now!” you said, loud and clear but he wasn’t done yet. He planned on teasing you even more.

“Watch that tone with me doll! Now tell me, where do you want me?” his words sent shivers throughout your entire body.

His hands traveled up and down your skin, causing goose bumps along the way.

“Down there,” you replied, pointing your finger downwards your body, smirking at him as he sank to his knees.

His hands ran up and down your things, causing your body to shake as he chuckled.

“You’re so responsive, baby, I’ll make you feel so good I promise,” he whispered while kissing your inner thighs. Licking the droplet of lust which oozed out of you earlier. The whole of it was so vulgar that your eyes rolled back.

Your hands tangled into his hair as he slowly slipped your underwear down your legs, causing you to shiver at his bare touch.

Once you stepped out of the red underwear, his mouth latched on to your core. His tongue moving back and forth from your entrance to your clit, while his eyes looked up at you. Having his head in the middle of your shaky legs was spine-tingling.

His hands wrapped around your hips, spreading you slightly while nuzzling his mouth deeper into your core as you let out multiple moans and groans.

“You taste amazing baby,” he said, detaching his mouth from you for a brief moment as he slipped two metal fingers deep inside you, slowly. He watched you frown in pleasure as you tugged on the roots of his dark hair.

“Bucky… oh my god” you moaned shamelessly. And he smirked again.

He kept his fingers buried in you, constantly rotating them or slipping them in and out of you as he stood up once again, claiming your lips.

His mouth was wet, and you could see your wetness all across his beard.

His tongue slipped past your lips and gently stroked the top of your mouth. His fingers worked relentlessly between your folds and you felt a warm pressure forming in between your hips just as his metal fingers curled up inside you, brushing against a weak spot you barely knew you had.

You moaned into his mouth, your hands still tangled into his hair.

“You like my fingers in your cunt, huh, doll? You like it when I touch you like this, don’t you?” he asked, panting against your mouth as he felt his pants grow tighter and tighter.

But when you didn’t answer, his frustration got the best of him.

He slipped his hands out of your heat, making you whimper. He harshly grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look up at him.

“Answer me when I talk to you baby, don’t be a brat, yeah?” but you could barely form a proper sentence to reply back so when you said nothing, he messily grabbed a chunk of your hair, tugging at it lightly and brought you to your knees.

You knelt in front of him, your core still dripping and throbbing because he didn’t grant you your release yet.

“Bucky, I –,” he cut you off immediately.

“Shh princess, now get to work,” he held your head gently as you unbuckled his pants quickly, almost desperate to please him.

You pulled down his pants and underwear and almost immediately took him into your mouth. You swirled your tongue around his tip for a little while, making him grunt in pleasure.

“You look so good on your knees, doll, with my cock in your mouth,” he moaned out loud, pushing himself into your mouth slightly.

You bobbed your head around his tip, taking him inch by inch until he hit the back of your throat. You repeated the same thing over and over again until he quickened the pace at which he moved in and out of you, which notified you that he was really close to coming undone.

But since he didn’t let you cum, you weren’t gonna let him cum either.

You removed him from your mouth and slowly licked the slit on the top of his tip, tasting his pre cum as your hands toyed with his balls, earning a moan out of him. You smiled in satisfaction as you rose up to your feet.

His eyes widened when he realized what you just did.

“But -, but baby, I –,”

“Shh, just fuck me, soldier. I want you so bad, Bucky, it hurts. Please,” you pleaded, unhooking your bra and letting it fall on the ground, leaving you both completely bare.

“Come here, doll,” he whispered, smashing his lips to yours. Kissing and biting your mouth as his lined himself at your still dripping entrance.

He brushed his tip up and down your entrance, not fully entering you and it drove you crazy.

“Bucky, please, n-no more teasing,” you moaned, and he chuckled.

His hand at your throat held your neck a little tighter, choking you slightly.

“Else what, huh, doll?” he saw how needy you were for him and it filled him with a sense of pride.

As response, you just moaned when he slowly entered you. Allowing you to feel every vein on his length and feel yourself stretch to your maximum so he could fill you up completely.

“Ah fuck! Bucky!” you moaned as he slipped out of you and slipped in you once more.

He groaned as he filled you to the brim, slowly moving in and out of you.

“You feel so good, doll. All wet and warm for me, damn it!” he grunted out as you rotated your hips against him, adding more the sensation.

His filthy words and his movements around your body caused an assortment of swear words to leave your mouth. A mouth which he soon started to nibble on.

His teeth tugged at your bottom lip while he moved in and out of you at an increased pace. His metal arm was still gripping your throat while the other one held your hip, probably leaving a deep purple bruise as a memoir – adding to those around your tits and along your neck.

The momentum he created with his length at your core further increased the tightening pressure in between your hips and you desperately needed to come undone. With each passing second and each stroke of Bucky’s length, you felt you orgasm building up quickly and you knew immediately that you wouldn’t last longer.

Your quiet screams only encouraged Bucky to move quicker. You felt your legs starting to shake as you knees felt weak, unable to hold your body weight.

“Bucky, baby, I’m gonna cum,” you moaned against his cheek as ragged breaths left his sinful lips.

“Not yet! Look at me,” he gripped your jaw, forcing your eyes to stare into his, “Who is making you feel this good, huh, doll? Tell me, who?” he grunted, sweat dripping from his forehead to his sharp jawline.

He applied more pressure at your throat and he fucked you until you could no longer form a complete sentence. He somehow managed to hit all the right spots.

“Y-you are, Buck…” your words turned into a moan as you could no longer hold it back. So, you came hard, with a quiet scream. Mumbling how good he made you feel against his cheek.

You felt his length pulsating inside of you as you rode out your orgasm, and you knew he was close. With a couple more strokes, Bucky came undone as well, his warm liquid hitting your walls which made you squirm against his bare body.

“Fuck, baby, you were so good,” he whispered, his hand leaving your neck and caressing your cheek as he slowly slipped out of you.

“You too, Buck,” you giggled, and kissed his lips one more time.

He broke the kiss and spoke up again.

“You didn’t fuck Thor though, did you?” he asked, making you laugh as he pressed your body against his once more.

“No, but why does that bother you?” you grabbed his face in both your hands and kissed his nose, making him smile down at you.

“Good, because I don’t want anyone else touching what’s mine,” he nuzzled his face into your neck and kissed his way up to your lips again before whispering a quick, “you’re mine.”

The two of you hurried to get dressed and as soon as you zipped your jacket back up, somebody pushed down the door.

Dust particles flew around for a bit, making your vision blurry for a while before you could focus again on who was in front of you.

“There you guys are! Are you okay? We’re so sorry we took so long, the entire west wing collapsed and we didn’t know where you guys were,” Nat explained, pulling you in for a wind pipe crushing hug.

“Its okay, Nat. Actually, that gave Bucky and I plenty of time to, uh, work on our issues,” you explained, briefly looking at Bucky who had the same cocky smile on his face and Steve beamed.

“That’s great! Now let’s go home,” Steve said, ushering you and Bucky out of the room. But that was until you heard Tony’s voice.

“Uh, are we just gonna collectively ignore the bright red bra that’s on the floor?” he asked, pointing towards it a few feet away from where you stood and everybody’s gaze fell on your forgotten bra on the floor.

Shit!

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colehasapen · 4 years

Text

(ONE SHOT) kadala STAR WARS

Fox wakes up.

After everything, he's not expecting to. Not after what he had done - how uncharacteristically stupid he had been. He had done what he had, expecting to die, to be killed so that the nightmares would end and his brothers would be saved - it's what he deserves, after what the Chancellor had made him do. His brothers would see a future, he had made sure of it, but it wasn't a future for Fox, not with all the people he had killed, even if he hadn't meant to.

They haunt him. They scream in his dreams and he can feel their blood on his hands, he can see their faces every time he closes his eyes. He sees them as they were as they died, killed by his hands and with his weapons. It’s not always the same people haunting his nightmares, they’re interchangeable and they blend together - there’s been so many of them - but there’s always one that stays, clear and loud and there.

Fives.

Fives with his frantic voice, with his wild conspiracy and dilated eyes, and the gaping, burning hole in his chest, blackening the otherwise plain plastoid. The hole Fox put there. It never should have happened - it was supposed to stun, he had turned his blaster to stun as soon as he heard it was a brother the Guard were going after - and maybe that’s why Fox couldn’t forget his words or chase the ghost of the dead ARC from his thoughts. The more he thought about him, the less crazy Fives had seemed. The hate-filled eyes of his brothers followed him through his days, accusing - because he had committed the worst sort of crime against his brothers, he had killed one of them - and Fox doesn’t bother trying to keep them at bay. They hate him, and Fox doesn’t blame them. He hates himself too. It could have been the weeks of lost sleep or maybe the patchy memories he couldn’t string together, but Fox found himself continuing the dead man’s investigation, chasing rumours and diving into the darkest parts of the Republic.

What he had found only made Fox hate himself more.

Fives had been right , and Fox had killed him. He had killed the brother who had been trying to save them all. His brothers were dying in droves, and it was Fox’s fault. By killing Fives before he could bring the knowledge of what the Chancellor was to the Jedi, Fox had all but signed the death warrant of the Republic and allowed Palpatine to keep the power he was using to control the war from both sides.

Fox had known immediately what he had needed to do. He had compiled all the data into a single file, written out his goodbyes, and set it all to send on a timer. Then he had left to confront the Chancellor, never letting on to the Guard what was going on - but with Thorn marching on no one gave him a second look, no one would worry about his comings and goings - and looking to buy his brothers time to receive and read the results of his investigation. They would pass it on, Fox knows, because it was a threat to their men and their Jedi. Fox had never had a Jedi, never understood the love his brothers had for them, but he’s seen the way so many look at their Generals, how many of them love their Jedi Commanders, and he knows that they’d protect them.

They would be able to save themselves, and build the futures they all hadn’t dared to dream of. Fox wouldn’t be part of it, didn’t deserve to be part of it, but he was fine with it. He would die to ensure his brothers would be free, as a final apology to Fives, and to Rex, who had had to watch his vod’ika die in his arms - something none of them deserved, and it was especially heinous that he had had to deal with the trauma of knowing his brother was killed by his ori’vod. They may never have been especially close, not like he had been with Cody or Wolffe, but it was hard not to remember the little blond cadet Cody had brought back to their bunks all those years ago whenever he looked at the confident and scarred Captain Rex’ika had become. Rex couldn’t look at him anymore, not without a burning hatred in his eyes, and Cody and Wolffe were rarely ever on Coruscant, even if they had wanted to see him - which Fox doubts. Neither of them would love a brother-killer, not after the Malevolence and not after Sergeant Slick’s cold-blooded betrayal.

He doesn’t deserve their forgiveness, would never receive it, but apologizing for what he had done took some weight off his shoulders before his inevitable death. He had marched into Chancellor Palpatine’s office prepared to die, but at least he’d been able to warn his family, to share what he had found. He had thought that, at best, the Chancellor would have him killed then and there, that he would summon his Guard like he had with Fives. Fox hadn’t been expecting the man to throw lightning out of his fingers, and it hadn’t even registered until the burning pain tore through him, boiling his blood in his veins until the world went white.

Then he woke up.

He didn’t die, and Fox’s scattered, foggy mind has a hard time coming to terms with the fact. He blinks groggily into the darkness, body alight in agony, and he has a moment of overwhelming terror. He can’t see - where is he - why can’t he see?

Fox gasps, bile and blood burning the back of his throat as he chokes and wheezes, eyes rolling desperately, trying to see anything at all - but it’s just darkness. Fox forces himself to calm down, to categorize what he can tell of his situation as he had been trained for. His limbs are shaking, and he feels like he’s been flayed open alive. From what he can tell, he’s slumped against cold metal, arms held above his head by heavy manacles, and the chains clatter with every tremor that shakes his sprawled frame. His legs tingle uselessly, but he can still move them - or at least he thinks he can, from the sound of plastoid dragging across the metal floor - so the Chancellor’s attack hadn’t paralyzed him. He feels like he had been stabbed multiple times, then lit on fire and left to suffer.

Fox isn’t sure how he isn’t dead yet - better yet, he doesn’t know why he isn’t dead yet. Instead, he’s chained in some dark, stale room that tastes of badly recycled air and smells like blood. He doesn’t know how long he’s been here, or how long he will be here, with his arms going numb as gravity pushes the blood from the suspended limbs. The only courtesy he’s been shown is that he wasn’t chained standing up. With nothing else to do, Fox is left to drift.

He drifts in and out of consciousness, wondering, despite himself, what was going to happen to him. He drifts, and he dreams - and as time continues to pass without anything to mark the passage besides his own overwhelming hunger and thirst, Fox wonders if anyone will come. He knows, deep down, that he won’t be rescued, but it brings him a dark sort of amusement to think of Palpatine coming back to torture him to find his dead body here. He wants to die.

And yet he doesn’t.

He continues to cling to life - a life he doesn’t deserve. It’s almost funny that after so many casualties, that it’s Fox who can’t seem to die. It’s Fox who continues to close his eyes, hoping that he’ll finally march on, only to open his eyes once more and curse the world. Why was it him who wouldn’t die, when there were so many good men who deserved to live more than him. Men like Thorn, who had hope no matter how bad it got, and who’s mangled body had been left for the wildlife to eat. Men like Fives, who had tried so desperately to save everyone, but would never see the fall of the man who had been pulling all the strings.

He doesn’t know how long it’s been since the first time he woke up, but Fox finds himself flung back into his body by the sudden overwhelming presence of noise after so long of just the sound of his own rasping breath. Light burns against his eyelids. There are warm hands pressing against the burnt skin of his neck, drawing him close to a firm chest. Fox tries to flinch away on instinct, fighting against the hold - how long had it been since someone had touched him? Had it been when that last time Thorn had last clapped him on the shoulder and promised to see him soon? - and a rushed, familiar voice washes over him.

“Fox. Fox.” Someone says, as his arms are gently lowered one by one by another pair of hands. “ Udesii, ori’vod. Udesii, ni olar, Fox.” Fox sucks in a ragged, gasping breath, body quivering, and he coughs around a dry, bloody throat. He can’t bring himself to open his eyes, afraid that it’ll all melt away into darkness once again. “You did it, Fox. You did it.”

His voice rasps when he speaks, rough with disuse, “Me'bana?”

“Palpatine is gone, vod.” Fox shivers, and agonizingly slowly, he forces his eyes to open. An orange pauldron meets his gaze, and Fox nearly sobs.

“Cody.”

“Yeah, ori’vod.” Cody chokes, and Fox suddenly realizes that he’s not the only one who’s shaking. “I’m here. And if you ever do something like this again I’m going to kick your ass. You’re not allowed to march on yet, vod.”

Fox chuckles wetly, turning his head to press his nose against the rough fabric of his brother’s blacks, ignoring the uncomfortable press of cold plastoid against his ravaged body because it’s something other than the cold metal he had had to deal with for so long. “Ni ceta.”

“Udesii.” His little brother breaths, voice thick, pressing his face into Fox’s no doubt greasy hair. “You have nothing to apologize for, Fox. As long as you’re alive.” Cody shivers again, and Fox forces his laden arms to rise, ignoring the fogginess of unconsciousness rising up to drown him once again, and he clumsily wraps them around his brother’s hips like he had all those years ago when Kote would crawl into his pod during summer storms. “You stopped him, Fox. He can’t hurt you anymore - he can’t hurt anyone anymore.”

“Good.”

“Sleep, vod.” Cody murmurs, curling around him protectively. “You’re safe.”

Fox sleeps.

#star wars #fanfiction #cole writes #whumptober 2020 #no.1 let's hang out sometime #commander fox #commander cody #whump #waking up restrained #shackled #fix-it

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