#GOD what old men do to a sad sap like me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

slasherrabbitmadness · 3 years ago

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Beach day with the Slashers

Female Reader -Bo- Gender-neutral -everyone else-

Bo- Fingering but no penetration. Dirty talk.

Angst and Fluff with Herbert and Dan (They pronouns used for Y/N) Fluff with Michael and Jason.

Michael Myers (1978 with the extra height of the 2018 one)

> Wants to visit the beach during the day. He’ll even have his mask off. Instead of enjoying the beautiful view of the sun hitting the blue ocean, you spend your day staring at your handsome boyfriend.

> Michael is just there to scan for new victims. He kills people who litter, hates seeing wrappers and cigarette butts littered across nature.

> You egg him on to go swimming, it takes a lot of coaxing. “Please, Michael, just for a little bit.” He points to your belongings on the towel, “They’ll be fine, who’s gonna want to steal some sandwiches and some towels?” He shook his head. You got down on your knees and gave him sad puppy dog eyes. He grumbled then lifted you onto his shoulder, you squealed as you placed your hands on his firm back, rubbing his taut muscles.

> When he got up to his pecs in the water he threw you in. You came up for air, “Mikey, what the hell!?”

> “What? You wanted in the water.” He gave a small smile.

> He made you swim in front of the beach while he just stood in the water and watched. He knew you’d be fine, it was your belongings he was worried for. You caught his eyes, his already dark blue eyes were now matching the deepest parts of the ocean. He barreled through the water, pushing you aside. You watched him as he made his way up onto the beach.

> Some fuck had the bright idea to do some stealing. He just happens to choose the one man’s belongings you don’t fuck with.

> Before that guy had time to react to a six-foot-three man, hauling ass like he is a tiger chasing after a deer, Michael clocked him so hard in the face the man immediately went down.

> People stood around Michael, some congratulating him for knocking out a thief, others gawked “My God he swung that punch so hard.” “Is the thief even breathing?” Michael stood over your belongings, and turned back towards you, just making your way out of the ocean. Michael was mad, but not as mad at what he saw next.

> Some random beach Chad made his way over to you, “Yo, that was wild huh?” You gave a quick, “Ya.” not caring to speak to him, just wanted to get back to your boyfriend. “He just knocked that guy out in one punch.” You made your way up the beach, he grabbed at you “Hey, be careful, probably want to stay aw-”

>The poor sap never stood a chance, Michael swung his fist so hard Chad went flying back into the water.

> “I’ve had enough, we're leaving.”

> You were gonna protest, but when you scanned the crowd, you realized that yeah, we’re gonna go home.

> Walking back home, Michael held your hand, tightly. “Mikey?” He grunts, “You don’t like people touching your belongings, huh?” You turned to look up at him and he caught you in a kiss. He snuck his tongue in, dominating yours, you moaned and he pulled away. You whined and he smiled.

> “what’s mine is mine.”

Jason Voorhees

> He’s the beach’s lifeguard, so if you wanna spend a beach day with Jason, you’ll have to do it after hours. You would, but Jason takes the evening shifts too.

> Everybody loved Jason. Kids loved him, he was always so nice to them after all. He gave them swimming lessons. He was always so patient with them, never getting mad if a kid was struggling to grasp the basics.

> Men and Women loved Jason. His stoic demeanor, his calming presence...his bulging muscles. Jason was oblivious to all kinds of flirting. “Your hands are like, so big!” said a bubbly tanned beach bunny. Jason just grunts. A muscle-bound beach bro asked, “Bet you lift a lot eh, what’s your macros?” Jason just looked at his large bicep, he shrugged.

> When you visit him at work he gives you small waves then his eyes go right back to the water, not wanting to miss anything. Dedicated <3

> He doesn’t take a proper lunch break, he’ll eat his food while watching the beach, scarfing down the food as fast as possible.

> After a long day, you’ll finally have Jason all to yourself.

> Night swimming!

> You and Jason have splash fights, that he often wins, his large palms create huge splashes that knock you back into the water.

> Keeps you incredibly close in the water, will bug you to wear a life jacket if you ever swam without him. He’s very protective.

> Holds you close to him the further out you go. He won’t let you go, so it’s the perfect time to smother him in kisses.

> Jason hums into your kisses, his large hands running up and down your back, the water and his hands feel perfect on your skin.

> Jason couldn’t be happier that you're together.

Herbert West + Dan Cain - Poly relationship or what Derrick Barry calls a ‘throuple’

> “Please Herbert, for me?” He grimaced at you. Don’t you know how busy he is? Perfect specimens don’t just end up dead you know? Someones gotta end a life! You sighed and brought out the big gun. “Well, Dan said-” The moment Dan left your lips, Herbert was pushing you and him out the door.

> You and Dan had a blast, building castles, collecting seashells, playing some beach volleyball with another friendly couple.

> Herbert sulked under the beach umbrella, nose in a large medical textbook.

> “If you come with us, Herbert, we’ll get you a grape freezie!” Dan coaxed but it did not affect Herbert. Herbert waved you both off as if you were two mosquitoes bugging him.

> You and Dan walked hand in hand, swinging them in between yourself on your way to the little concession stand. “You sure it was for the best we brought him, Dan?” Dan looked at you and frowned, your eyes were a little glossy. “He only came because you were coming.” You felt the tears rolling down your cheek.

> “fuck, Herbert, you little monster.” Dan cursed to under his breath. Dan knew Herbert gravitated more towards him. It’s not that Herbert didn’t like you, just Dan was there first. Dan never told you but he often caught Herbert staring at you, a softness in his eyes that Dan knew meant one thing…

> “I’m sorry…” You mumbled, quickly rubbing the back of your hand over your eyes. Dan shushed you and brought you in for a hug, kissing the top of your head.

> “Don’t be, Herbert should be. Some Vitamin D is much needed for his pale little body. I’ll talk to him, okay? In the meantime, focus on me!”

> Dan and you continued with the most fun day ever. You ate your freezies, swapping flavors halfway through. A little boy asked Dan to help with flying his kite, Dan’s height coming in handy.

> Herbert stewed in his spot under the umbrella, watching you and Dan have fun, “Hmph, wasting time.” He kept peeking from his book, eyes on you, how you smiled when you looked into Dan’s eyes, how you leaned in closer, head resting on his shoulder. How Dan wrapped his arm around your waist, lips on your ear whispering...God knows what, Herbert can only imagine.

> “They could just yank me away from this, make me spend time with them...not that I want to. But if they dragged me away from my book then I’d have no choice.”

> When it got late, You and Dan packed away everything into the bags, Herbert supervised. How helpful/s

> Dan had you drop a few of the smaller items at the car on your own, he made Herbert help with some of the heavier items. As your figure became smaller and smaller in the distance, Dan turned to Herbert, “You know, they wer-”

> “I can’t believe you two, frolicking about so openly.” Herbert had cut Dan off. Herbert fumbled with the bags while trying to push up his glasses. Dan fumed.

> “You mean act like a couple, which we are, which you're a part of. Or are you only a couple with me?”

> Herbert snapped “excuse me, you and Y/N are most certainly a couple, which I have no part of.”

> Dan scoffed and shook his head “They want to be with you too, Herbert, They do like you, They feel upset with how you treat them. Now I know deep down you adore them, you best start showing it.”

> Herbert stopped, he looked at Dan and then at you in the distance starting the car.

> Later that night, Herbert had asked if you’d help in the basement. As tired as you were, you went to help. Herbert scarcely looked at you, but he found ways to touch you. Hands ghosting over yours as you handed him some flasks. Grabbing your hips softly to move you out of the way.

> “Everything good, Herbert?” You asked. His eyes looked everywhere but you. He stepped a little closer to you, His face only a foot away.

> He smashed his lips onto yours and wrapped you up in his arms. His hands rubbing along your sides, pulling you in so tight you were surprised he was strong enough to bring pain that way.

> “Don’t cry over me. Okay?” Your face felt hot, you nodded. “You are mine too, not just Dan’s, okay?” You nodded again. “Good. Now kiss me.”

> The kiss started tender but that just wasn’t gonna cut it with all the tension between you two.

Bo Sinclair /Female reader/

> Lookin’ at all the pretty girls go by.

> Catches you catching him staring, flashes his baby blues at you, “C’mon darling, you know you're still the apple of mah eye.”

> Gets pissed when other guys check you out. Strolls on over and wraps an arm around you, sneering at the Chads and Kyles.

> “You just had to wear that sexy little number, didn’t ya?” He snarled in your face. You grabbed your tits in the cute red bikini and gave them a Lil shake.

> Bo yanked you away from the beach, you protested, hitting his large forearm, “Bo, what the hell? Oh come on, you act like a leech an-” He cut you off, his lips slammed onto yours, the kiss was teeth and a little tongue action.

> Bo had yanked you away to some run-down looking bathrooms, the paint was so old it looked like the original coat from the 1960s

> “Now, Darlin, looks like you’ve just been wanting to rial me up now, huh? Wanting those sons of bitches to fuck you?” He leaned in close to your ear, his heavy breathing making you shake with anticipation. He suckled on it, causing you to buckle at the knees.

> “Bo, no I didn’t wan-want ah, the- them to” You were panting as he made small circles on your clit over your bikini bottoms. His fingers were calloused but he could be surprisingly gentle.

> “Now, yah best be quiet so no one hears ya, understood, Doll?” You whimpered and Bo flashed you his pearly whites. “That’s a good girl.”

> You should make him jealous more often.

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leakinglungs · 3 years ago

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playlist meme

tagged by @woefulwhoa !! what a throwback ty for tagging me<3

rules: you can usually tell a lot about a person by the type of music they listen to. put your On Repeat playlist on shuffle and list the first ten songs then tag a few folks. no skipping!

1. god knows i tried - lana del rey

2. sad girl - lana del rey

3. modern girls and old fashioned men - the strokes/regina spektor

4. crazy - patsy cline

5. cupid - amy winehouse

6. snot - alex g

7. dealer - lana del rey

8. heaven or las vegas - cocteau twins

9. million dollar man - lana del rey

10. bubblegum bitch - marina

tagging: @sad-sap @tworobocops @angst420 @livmad @squid-constellation @knockturnum and anyone else who wants to do this, esp all the longterm mutuals who tagged me in ask memes in like 2014<3

#still in my lana moment i guess lmao #about

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foulserpent · 4 years ago

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funerary practice blues

cw: sad

The old argonian was by the grave-stake again, a tired shadow sat deeper than the village torch-light could go. He had spent most of the past week in a slow orbit around the spot, even after the vultures had gone and the rites were finished. He held a bone, cleaned of flesh and blood, but unmistakably fresh.

"You've seen how the moons are gone?" Shap-Mota said to Xikeel as she approached, in lieu of a greeting.

"Yes," Xikeel said.

And it was true. The two moons had, quite unceremoniously, abandoned their usual path through the skies a day or two beforehand. It was such a strangely small change, small enough that one could pretend that they were just both in their new moon phase, or that they were merely hidden behind a cloud. The implications were massive, and yet Xikeel could hardly even pretend to care. But for his sake, she tried.

"I was in Lilmoth yesterday. The Khajiit-folk there were in a panic. I don't think anyone knows why it's happening." She said.

"And life is just going on as usual here." Shap-Mota spoke softly. "It's like nothing is any different."

Xikeel nodded, not knowing what to say.

She turned her attention to the grave-stake. The shed Hist-branch's top half was inscribed with all the proper symbols, the bottom lovingly carved with swirling patterns and striped beasts and sacred roots. Other stakes nearby were moss-covered, sunken into the mud and worn from the rains and humidity and floods. The earth beneath was doubtlessly filled with the decaying remnants of more, their carvings complemented by the meandering of termites and other little chewing-things until there was nothing left. This one would soon be much the same, though would take far longer for its meaning to be abstracted.

"It's not so bad though, right?" Shap-Mota said quietly, as if answering his own thoughts out loud. Xikeel turned to watch him. He continued.

"It was a peaceful death, and I think we got everything right. The birds took him to his gods, and the rest is buried with the Hist... And the Hist accepted him, he drank the sap with me, remember? Even though he didn't have to. I was so worried it would hurt him..."

Shap-Mota now looked at Xikeel with plaintive eyes. "So I'll be with him when I go too, I think, right?"

Xikeel nodded again. She wasn’t sure.

Shap-Mota closed his eyes. His face now twisted, his teeth baring themselves as agony took hold. The old argonian let out a low moan as he clutched the bone so tightly that Xikeel worried it would break. She gently approached his side and pulled him into a hug, nuzzling the graying scales of his face as he began to cry, but she felt it as though from a great distance. Everything ached with a dizzy numbness, sensation evading her no matter how tightly she held the man. All she could feel was her old friend's necklace digging uncomfortably into her chest, caught between her body and Shap-Mota's. She pulled him in even tighter.

Xikeel had never see it leave Ned's breast since the crisis, almost a century ago. Nor did he ever seem to take her ring off its chain, even when it would be of practical use to do so. Even when she reminded him it was technically her ring, one of two useful enchanted rings that she had just lent to her new friends, and that its mate had been lost when everything went to shit. She would usually stop herself before she opened the wound of whose pocket it was lost in.

She sometimes had troubles translating his way of sentimentality, all the meaning that could be held in things so temporary as objects and days of the year and fading scars. It was more than a necklace to him, that much was clear. Its golden chain was a last desperate physical tether to something that couldn’t hear his voice, couldn't be seen or touched. As the necklace weighed heavy on her chest, she had begun to understand.

Shap-Mota had gone quiet again, the quivering of his breath now barely audible under the breathless song of frogs and marsh-insects. When they had listened long enough, she dared to break the singing silence.

"Have you decided on what to do with the bone?" She jerked her snout at the object in question, which seemed stark white even in the dim starlight.

This was part of his body. This was under his skin, cradled in muscles and ligament and living blood. This was a leg that walked, that was rested on tables in rude ways, that gave him pain from the time it was broken and he walked on it instead of letting it heal, and it was HIS. She registered these absurdities at a distance.

"No, not yet." Shap-Mota sighed. He took a few deep breaths, collecting himself back together. "It's a very high-pressure tradition isn't it? I can't imagine having doing this for all my family members..." He let out a huff. "How do you even... represent someone in such a permanent way?"

"Mmh, he said most people just make pipes? He told me I have his blessing if we just wanted to smoke out of his leg-bone. He said-," she adjusted her voice just enough to resemble his, "'I would be literally honored for you guys to use my remains to get high.'"

Shap-Mota looked at her with his jaw hanging slightly slack. Xikeel felt her stomach sink. The word 'sorry' tugged at her throat, but Shap had begun to laugh.

"Of course he did." The man blinked in a smile. He relaxed a little, his wide frame softening like cool river-mud. "I'll have to think about that, though. I'd rather it be something kids can be around." He looked out into the marsh. “I’ll have to think about it.” He repeated, in the way old men often do.

Xikeel nodded, but felt nothing more to say. She leaned back into his side and set herself adrift again.

The night stayed the unnatural moonless dark, the sky now laid open as a yawning black mouth with the marsh in its jaw, with Xikeel and Shap-Mota lost somewhere as tiny motes drifting through water. Unknowing and without pause for breath, the frogsong droned on.

#some bg: this takes place at the beginning of the void nights (canon event)#my writing

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shiemishuzenji · 4 years ago

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100 OC Question Meme!

created by marchenvillain <3

Your Wings edition: Shiemi Shuzenji!

1. What’s a unique skill they have? Is their any reason why they can do it? Shiemi can harness the power of the sun in order to heal wounds. Her Quirk is a mixture of her mother’s (who can bend light) and grandmother’s (who can heal wounds).

2. What are their favourite possessions? Why? (sentimentality, history, price, etc) The necklace that Hawks gave her is very important to her. She sees it like a symbol of their love.

3. Do they get jealous easily? If so, what usually causes it? She gets insecure, but she never acts on her jealousy. Often times, if women fawn over Hawks, she gets all up in her feels.

4. Are they a good gift-giver? What do they tend to give as gifts? She’s more of a practical gift giver. She pays attention to what someone really needs and she’ll get it for them.

5. What’s their reputation like? Does this reputation contrast what they’re really like? People (especially when she worked in the hospital) hail her as a good doctor but one with little to no social skills. She’s quiet, so a lot of people think she’s mean. Others, like her old boss, like her polite and respectable nature.

6. Do they prefer to have a big social circle, or a few close friends? Definitely a few close friends. She’s content with Aizawa, Kayama, and Mic.

7. What’s their “type”? What romantically attracts them to another person? Men who are confident! If one looks at her track record, her old boyfriends in high school were all jocks who loved the limelight. Hawks is cocky, but a lot of that haughtiness is a facade. She loves that he knows how to tone it down and come back to Earth.

8. What does their dream house look like? She’s a simple woman: a modern white home with a huge lawn for a garden. She’s always wanted to plant sunflowers. I’m a huge horror fan, so for some reason, I’m envisioning the villa from The Human Centipede… Just the outside! eheh... is that weird?

9. If they could change one part of their appearance, what would it be? Shiemi is actually very lithe; her mother says she’s got no meat on her bones. She would love to bulk up! Also, her cup size is a B. She would change that, too, if she could.

10. What’s a simple thing that brings them joy? Well, Shiemi’s love language is acts of service. It really warms her heart when people help do things with or for her!

11. What is their dream pet? A cat! A fluffy white one. Maybe Aizawa had some influence on her? ❤️

12. What’s their position in their friend group? (leader, mom friend, chaos goblin, etc) The voice of reason. She likes to have practical fun! She’s not as rigid as Aizawa, but nowhere near as wild as Mic.

13. How forgiving are they? What do they consider unforgivable? Shiemi is definitely forgiving, so much so that it is sometimes her downfall. However, she believes there is no excuse for villainy.

14. Who do they go to in a crisis/emergency? Any particular reason why they choose that person? Hmmm, it’s funny because most people go to her in an emergency since she’s got that nifty healing Quirk haha! Shiemi has plenty of people to depend on like Midnight or Recovery Girl, but Hawks is the one she always turns to when she needs saving.

15. How good are they at conversation? Are they a small talk master, bad at initiating, etc? The only person she likes to make small talk with is Hawks, really. She’s not much a talker, and prefers to let others do the talking. This is why she and Aizawa click so well because they both can appreciate silence.

16. What food do they absolutely hate? She actually doesn’t care for greasy foods. Pizza, for example, upsets her tummy.

17. Do they show a lot of affection, or are they pretty reserved? She’s not into PDA, but she loves to be held and kissed. When she’s sad, she almost always needs a hug. ❤️

18. If you had to represent them with a flower, colour, and animal, what would you choose? I feel like she’s more of a white lily, which I hear symbolizes humility and devotion. Her color would be blush pink, for her more timid nature and her affinity for that color. As for an animal, I think she’d be a snowshoe hare!

19. What’s their unusual quirk? (Quirk with a lowercase q, haha) Shiemi has always had very strong intrusive thoughts, and I’ve made this obvious from the first chapter. I based this on my own struggle with intrusive thoughts, so Shiemi and I can relate on the issue of fighting our inner voices to be better people.

20. Are they easy to wake up in the morning, or grouchy and sleepy? She’s an early bird! Very easy to wake up in the morning.

21. What’s their ideal date like? She loves night walks on the beach followed a busy night of makin’ love ;)

22. What’s their silliest or most unusual fear/phobia? Probably spiders. She’s not the type to scream when she sees one, but if it’s big and hairy, she’ll leave the room.

23. Is their pain tolerance high or low? Pretty low, all things considering. She knows how to fight, she just doesn’t like to because she can’t really handle her own.

24. Are they a fussy eater? Nope! She’ll try just about anything. She understands the importance of eating healthy, so she makes sure to eat her veggies every day. (Unlike me…)

25. What are their dreams like? As the writer, I’ve always made her dreams symbolic. They often reflect her true feelings or the things on her mind.

26. Are they technologically savvy? Yes! Working in the hospital, she’s a quick learner, and working in the hospital, she’s had to learn how to use all the equipment.

27. Are they forgetful? What do they tend to forget? (plans, phone, keys, etc) No, she tries to be very organized. The most that she forgets would be if she’s got a lot of work to do, she might forget one assignment.

28. Describe their morning routine. Open the curtains first (she needs sunlight), drink black coffee, watch the news, take a shower. Suuuper adult of her, I know. She’s a creature of habit!

29. Are they a good cook? If they are, what do they like to make? She’s an okay cook. Certainly not as good as Hawks! She can make basic food, but a lot of it lacks flavor -- something Hawks has had to teach her.

30. Do they consider themselves a “hero” or “villain”? Hero! Definitely. She’ll heal anyone in need, but she works for the heroes, on the side of good.

31. What holiday do they like the most? (Christmas, Easter, Valentine’s Day, etc) Christmas. It’s the one time of year she gets to spend with her whole family. Even though tensions are high, she still loves her family more than anything.

32. What are they like at parties? Party animal, or awkwardly sitting in the corner drinking punch and reading? She’s the wallflower. She’d rather grab a bite to eat and sit back, people-watching.

33. Are they adventurous, or do they prefer to stay in their safe zone? She prefers to live life on the safe side. Though life with Hawks definitely makes things exciting!

34. What’s their favourite drink? (Coffee, tea, juice, hot chocolate, soda, etc) She loves coffee; preferably black coffee. Her go-to drink at Starbucks is a venti black cold brew or a cappuccino.

35. Are they good with children? Yes! Her serene nature tends to calm kids down. She especially used to love healing kids at the hospital.

36. Do they trust easily? What would you have to do to earn their trust? She’s normally very wary of people. She automatically has her guard up when approached by someone new, but honestly it doesn’t take much for her to let down her guard. For example, she was cautious of Twice when she met him, but once she saw that he and Mr. Compress needed help, she immediately dropped everything to help. Blame her big heart, I guess!

37. Are they a hopeless romantic, or is that stuff just not for them? God, YES!! When she first met Hawks, she tried to act all tough, but she’s such a SAP! In her relationships, she devotes everything to her significant other.

38. Do they get lost easily, or are they good with directions? Nah, she’s great with directions. She tries to have a good understanding of her surroundings.

39. Are they superstitious? She doesn’t believe in superstitions; she’s more of a woman of science.

40. Do they like physical activity, or staying inside? She enjoys a bit of both. She especially likes to go for walks, but doesn’t mind spending the whole day inside reading a book.

41. What would they dress up as for Halloween? A zombie nurse -- and I mean that in the laziest way possible. She would put on her uniform and paint her face and call it a day haha

42. Do they like fast food, or fancy restaurants? Fancy restaurants, for sure. She’s a bit of a snob. She’ll eat fast food if she’s on the go, but she grew up in the lap of luxury, and really enjoys the finer things in life.

43. Are they a chaotic bastard, pure angel baby, or tired mom friend? Pure angel baby. SHIEMI MUST BE PROTECTED AT ALL COSTS.

44. Do they have a good attention span? Yes, especially when it comes to her friends. She’ll sit there and listen to someone talk for hours.

45. Are they always late, on time, or early? Shiemi thinks that if you’re not 15 minutes early, then you’re late.

46. Do they cry, gasp, laugh, etc, while reading a book, or do they remain relatively stone-faced? Stone-faced. She might furrow her brow if she’s into it, but she’s more internal with her reactions.

47. Do they keep a diary? She stopped carrying a diary when she was a teenager and her parents read through it without her permission.

48. How dramatic are they? She’s not haha She cries easily, but that’s just because she feels very deeply.

49. Do they put a lot of effort into their appearance, or do they just make themselves presentable and go? She’s comfortable with her looks, so she mostly curls her bangs and thinks it good to go.

50. Why would they be a good partner for a road trip? She would be president of the backseat! Delivering snacks, giving directions, listening to you talk and talk for hours!

51. Why would they be a BAD partner for a road trip? She’s not much for small talk. If it gets quiet, she’ll let it happen and whip out a book.

52. What topic should nobody bring up around them, lest the other person be subject to a massive ramble/rant? Anything bashing on heroes, or criticizing hero society. She’s so deep in it that she’s blinded to its flaws. She’ll defend Heroes till the day she dies.

53. Are they clumsy? No, she’s too cautious!

54. Are they a law breaker, or stickler for rules? Stickler for the rules. Not as bad as Iida hahaha but she doesn’t do anything she’s not supposed to. Blame her strict upbringing!

55. Choose a vine you think perfectly encapsulates their character. I LOVE THIS QUESTION! I feel like she’s: “Road work ahead? Uh, yeah, I sure hope it does >:( ” or “Is there anything better than pussy? Yes, a really good book.” OOH, OR “How do you know what’s good for me? THAT’S MY OPINION!!”

56. Do they like to share? Yes, my girl is very giving ❤️

57. What’s the most chaotic thing they’ve done? Have sex with a bird man she just healed the night before :U Shiemi has a high sex drive

58. Which friend do they immediately become a zero-braincelled idiot around? She gets all smitten around Hawks tbh She can compose herself around everyone except for him. Then she’s just a puddle of GOO

59. Do they love or hate surprises? She does not like surprises! They make her uncomfortable and awkward.

60. What sappy thing will they cry at? (romance movies, cute cat videos, etc) Would they deny crying about it later on? She’ll cry during sad movies, but she’s stopped being ashamed of being a crybaby

61. What’s their favourite and least favourite subject in school? Health and science are her best subjects, but her favorite was literature! Her least favorite was probably physical education just because it took her away from the books!

62. Do they take a lot of photos? If so, what of? She prefers professional photos; her camera roll is practically empty!

63. Do they wear makeup? Blush, mascara, foundation, but she only ever wears makeup for special occasions.

64. Describe what their social media would be like. Instagram: “NO PHOTOS” but plenty of tagged photos from Mic and Midnight. Facebook: articles on social issues or new medical breakthroughs.

65. Do they give people a lot of nicknames? No, she doesn’t, actually!

66. What nicknames do others call them by? She thinks it’s sweet when people give nicknames to her -- e.g. “Doc,” “songbird,” or “sunshine.” Side note: I was really into Yagami Yato when I first started writing, so of course Hawks calls her “Baby bird.” And now I really regret not being more original because goddamn... I’m not gonna go back and change it because Yagami doesn’t own the nickname, but just know that I am upset

67. What’s an outrageous story about them nobody believes? Uhh, that’s a great question. I can’t think of anything, to be honest.

68. Are they easy to fluster? What would you have to do to truly fluster them? Yes! Despite being so cool, calm, and collected, it’s easy to make her blush. Hawks is a pro at getting her all worked up!

69. What’s their dream vacation like? She dreams of traveling, preferably somewhere along the Caribbean islands where she can bask in the sun and discover new plants and creatures.

70. Are they a good liar? She is a notoriously bad liar, mostly because it eats her away inside. She can make a lie work if she commits to it enough, but she’ll always come out with it eventually.

71. What do they want to do in the future? She wants a family. She’s always wanted to be a working woman and come home after a long day to her family. She wishes that a certain someone would be a stay-at-home dad...

72. How do they feel about love? Again, she’s a hopeless romantic. She believes in having strong bonds with both family and friends, but she does dedicate most of her energy into her romantic relationship.

73. Are they more book smarts, or street smarts? oh my god, BOOK SMARTS. She wouldn’t last a day on her own out there, but man she could recite a whole scene from Shakespeare if you asked her to.

74. What’s their guilty pleasure? Sex. She doesn’t come off as promiscuous, but she would get some every day if she could.

75. Is there anyone they consider their rival? No, in fact Shiemi tends to keep to herself. She’s respectful and supportive of everyone. She does have enemies, of course, like Dabi or Mr. Compress.

76. Do they have any notable physical features? Her eyes are described as gray, but they’re more purplish-gray.

77. What’s their music taste like? Classical music takes up most of the space on her phone; Joe Hisaishi is a composer that she admires a lot.

78. What’s something they’re really bad at? Keeping her opinions to herself. She’s brutally honest, to a fault.

79. Do they have a good sleep schedule? Yesss, her whole life runs on a schedule!

80. What’s their aesthetic sense like? Oh, I’m not sure how to answer this?

81. What’s something they’re really proud of? Her degrees and awards make her feel accomplished. She has a hard time seeing her worth, but the diplomas on her wall are proof, to her, of what she can do.

82. How would they spend a free day? In bed, reading a book, snuggled up beside Hawks ❤️

83. What are they like as an s/o? Lowkey, kind of clingy. She loves attention and wants to spend all her time with her significant other, doting on them, making them feel good.

84. What’s one thing they like that they don’t want anyone to know about? Her sex drive (> w >);;

85. Do they have a sweet tooth? She doesn’t; she’s more of a savory or salty person. I actually really like this dichotomy between Hawks and Shiemi, for some reason? The fact that she takes her coffee black and he takes his sweet is kind of nice.

86. How would you describe their fashion sense? I once had a beautiful professor at university who only wore maxi skirts and nice blouses. Her fashion sense inspired my vision of Shiemi a lot. If she’s not wearing her hero uniform, you can find her in a pink maxi skirt and a white blouse.

87. Do they like spicy food? She can definitely handle her spice, but she wouldn’t choose it!

88. Are they lucky? Do they believe in luck? By all means, she has the worst luck! Can’t say that she believes in it, though.

89. What would they get into a petty argument over? Shiemi stands her ground on her opinions, but she’s more or less an agreeable person. She doesn’t like to argue or cause tension, but she will if it means standing up for herself.

90. Are they a good artist? She can’t draw and she’s got that doctor handwriting lmao

91. Do they prefer hot or cold weather? Hot! Shiemi’s Quirk is most powerful if she’s in direct sunlight. When the sun is behind the clouds, it takes more energy and time for her to heal someone. Despite all that time in the sun, the poor woman can’t tan!

92. Can they play an instrument? Her parents made her play piano when she was a child, but she doesn’t dabble in it anymore.

93. What type of movies do they like to watch? Romance and mysteries! Her favorite movie is Titanic. She cries every time!

94. What does their room look like? Neat and organized. She’s got a lot of bookshelves in her room and a nice set up for her computer space.

95. How do they feel about bugs? Scared? Fascinated? She’s fascinated by bugs, but from a distance. She won’t touch ‘em!

96. What’s their sense of humour like? (Dad jokes, morbid humour, basic knock-knock jokes, stand up comedy, etc) She laughs really hard at stand up comedy. Since she’s a little more serious, she can appreciate how goofy Hawks is!

97. What do they keep in their bag? Cell phone, earbuds, portable charger, folding scissors for emergencies, Band-Aids, and if she’s not wearing it, she’ll fold up her lab coat and put it in there, too.

98. How competitive are they? She’s only competitive with herself. She doesn’t have to be the best, but she can’t stand being the worst. (I’m the same way.)

99. What would they wear to a formal event? Describe their outfit! She actually wore that beautiful red dress in chapter 10! If you Google “Elizabeth Banks Vanity Fair 2020” it’ll pop up.

100. If you, the creator, met them, would you two get along? Yes! I think that it’s impossible for any author/creator to make a character without at least adding some personal elements in them. Shiemi isn’t a self-insert, but she and I share a love of reading and we’re both overachievers. So I think she and I would make great friends!

#your wings ao3 #shiemi shuzenji #bnha oc #oc #oc questions #my hero academia oc #my hero academia #archive of our own

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champagne-bucky · 5 years ago

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Prescription for...

Summary: Steve Rogers tells Bucky about his first time.

Warnings: pre-serum Steve x reader, smut, loss of virginity

Notes: This is my thank you for hitting 500 followers this weekend. This may or may not turn into a mini series following the adventures of pre- serum Steve and the reader. Let me know what you guys think! Please make sure to like, comment, reblog, and follow for more!! Enjoy guys!!

Steve Rogers days were numbered. It’s sad and unfortunately true. No one thought the day would come where the world would be saying goodbye once more to the Patriotic American War Hero, but it looks like the end is approaching.

Steve’s decision to go back in time was a hard one for anyone to grasp, especially his best friend Bucky Barnes. Bucky and Steve were side by side always. Even when they weren’t, there wasn’t a day that went by where Bucky and Steve weren’t on each others minds.

Bucky knew his time with his forever pal was coming up. He knew for a while now that he’d have to prepare for the day when he’d say his final goodbyes, which is why Bucky made is a point to visit Steve every free minute of the day. Steve insisted that Bucky didn’t need to come to the lavish retirement home everyday, but Bucky was insistent and being with his friend just in case the ‘end of the line’ was drawing to a close.

“Hey, Buck.” The old man laying in the bed greeted the other walking through the doorway.

“Hey, punk. How we feelin’ today?” Bucky took a seat on the plush chair next to Steve’s bedside.

“Same as everyday, tired.” Bucky frowned. His best friend has been feeling tired lately, should he be worried?

“Oh, wipe that look off your face, Buck. I’m not dead, yet,” Bucky cringed, “it’s what happens when you get older, bud.” Steve flashed him his famous smile.

“What’s got you so upset today?” Steve eyed Bucky up and down.

“Nothing. What makes you think that?”

“I may be old, but I’m not senile. You’ve been sporting that look for weeks. Now what’s wrong?”

“It’s just,” Bucky sighed, he didn’t want to say it. If he didn’t it’ll all feel to real.

“That I’m should be dead soon?” Steve grinned as Bucky gasped.

“Don’t say that Steve! You’re not going to die, not for a while.” Bucky couldn’t help but choke back the tears.

“Bucky, you know it’s gonna happen. Sooner rather than later. I’m old Buck, it’s about time I leave this place.” Bucky was crying now. The tears fully falling down his face.

“C’mon you big sap. Wipe those tears away. I want no crying today. Don’t cry until after I’m gone. I wanna remember you smiling.” Steve had been doing this a lot lately. Anytime Bucky would be upset during his visits with Steve, he would try his best to make him smile. Bucky being the god sport he is decided to go along with his charades for he didn’t know how long they’d be doing this.

“I’m not crying cause of that,” Bucky sniffled, “I’m crying cause you’re gonna die a virgin.” Steve chuckled and Bucky cringed. He wished he could’ve taken that back.

“Just like the 40s all over again, huh?” Bucky had always been on Steve in their youth about getting Steve a nice girl. Someone that’ll take care of him. Someone that’ll hold him close those long lonely nights when Bucky couldn’t be there for him.

“I’m serious, pal. We gotta get you laid before...before,” Bucky’s voice trailed off.

“Before I go off to the army.” Good ole denial, one of Steve’s favorite games to play.

“Yeah, before you go off to the army.” Steve smirked at Bucky. It was that all knowing smirk.

“What?”

“I just realized. I never told you.” Steve’s grin grew even wider, the wrinkles in his face becoming more prominent.

“Told me what? That you got laid?” Bucky shook his head and laughed. He didn’t doubt he did. He had a few brief flings before Steve reunited with Bucky.

“Yeah, Y/N Y/L/N, remember her?” Bucky was confused.

“Umm, Steve, I’m sure she’s long gone by now.” He remembers the name all to well. That was the girl who worked in her dad’s pharmacy. The girl Steve was so smitten with.

“I know that idiot, I’m talking about before. When she was alive.”

“You slept with an old lad- OW!” Bucky exclaimed as Steve picked up his newspaper from the side of his bed and whacked Bucky over the head with it.

“I’m talking about before, Buck. Before I joined the army, before you joined the army.”

“Don’t bullshit me.”

“I’m to old for bullshitting, don’t ya think?” Bucky knew Steve as a lot of things. A risk taker, danger seeker, and because of his mother, hypochondriac.

“Okay, so when was it?” Bucky was curious now, he was hoping to catch Steve in a lie.

“Summer of 1935.”

“Bullshit!”

“How?”

“You would’ve told me.” Bucky was looked for any signs of joking, to his surprise there was none.

“I’m telling you now aren’t I?”

“Go on.”

“It was 1935, just after my 17th birthday. Remember, you and your family left for Chicago for the rest of the summer. You went to go stay with your aunt.” Wow, Bucky didn’t even remember the summer of ‘35.

“So, how was it?”

“I’m trying to tell you a story about how I met her and you wanna know how I enjoyed it?”

“Well it’s not everyday your friend over 100 tells you a dirty secret about their life.”

“Don’t make me smack you again. Now pay attention.” Bucky nodded and urged Steve to continue.

**Flashback**

1935

The air was hot and sticky. Kids were running around the streets while the fire hydrants were spraying water to keep them cool. On the other side of Brooklyn, a young James Barnes had just finished packing the car for Chicago.

“You gonna be alright without me, pal?” Bucky looked down at his short and unhealthily skinny friend.

“Yeah, you know me Buck, I can hold me own.” Bucky chuckled and patted Steve in the back.

“Sure ya can. Just don’t getting into any trouble, not without me of course.” Bucky hugged Steve tight.

“I’ll see ya when I get back. Don’t go kissing any pretty girls without me.” Bucky called out of the window of the car before it took off down the street.

“No promises.” Steve yelled back.

—

Steve waited until the car was out of sight before he made the long walk back to his home. There, his mother was in the kitchen preparing a delicious dessert for the two of them. Sarah Rogers was a kind and patient woman, one who always encouraged her son to take care of his mind, body, and soul. However, his health was Sarah’s biggest concern.

Steve had not grown up like the normal boys. He never did hit a growth spurt or sprout an impressive beard like his counterpart Bucky. No, Steve was a boy who was bullied and teased for not looking like a man. Sarah believe that maybe if he took better care of his health and changed his lifestyle that there would be hope for him yet. After all, mother knows best.

“Come in here Stevie and help mommy with the pie crust. Mrs. Leny from down the street gave me some apples from her tree.” Steve kicked his shoes off by the door and made his way to the kitchen.

“Make sure you wash up real good, honey. Don’t want to be sick for the remainder of the summer now do we?” Steve rolled his eyes at his worrying health obsessed mother. She was always on him about getting sick or not eating the right foods. It was rather annoying for the young Rogers boy. All he wanted to do was be like the normal kids in the neighborhood and go out and get his hands dirty, however the “normal kids” never wanted him to join in on the fun.

“Oh, Stevie!” Sarah called for her son as he finished washing the plates.

“I need you to make a run down to the pharmacy for me. Dr. Y/L/N called earlier and your prescription just came in.” Steve rolled his eyes and made his way to the door.

—

Steve had never considered himself a nervous man, not even around girls, but she, she was an exception. The pretty young woman behind the counter was mindlessly flipping through her newest book as Steve waited outside the drug store. He was going to have to talk to her. The beautiful woman that was unknowingly stealing his heart. Bucky had been teasing him for years about asking her out, but Steve could never find the courage.

"What girl would go out with a guy like me?” Bucky would frown hearing those words come out of his best friends mouth.

Slowly, Steve opened the door to the drug store, careful to not make the bell chime loudly. However, his plans were corrupted when he saw the unlikely fellows pushing him through the door altering the woman behind the counter of his presence. Buddy Bedestow and Hank Schumacher, Steve’s worst nightmares.

“Aww look who it is Hank, skinny boy Rogers. Hey Rogers, where’s your pal? Guess he’s not here to protect you now.” The two large men squished Steve between them. They have been on Steve’s ass since grade school, always picking on him for no particular reason. Well, Bucky thinks there is no reason, Steve mustered up the idea that the boys were jealous of his friendship with the most suavest fella in Brooklyn.

“Say Bud, did Stevie here run out of menstrual supplies? Ya think its our little pansy’s cycle again?” Unbeknownst to the boys, the woman was making her way around the counter.

“Nah Hank, I think Stevie here was gettin’ some rubbers, musta’ ran out when he was going down on his old lady. Is that why you’re here twig? Need to get back to momma?” Steve blushed as the boys kept berating him.

“Alright, that’s enough! Hank, Buddy, get out of here before I call your ma’s and tell them you’ve been stealing.”

“But we haven-“

“My pa may be old, but he sure ain’t dumb. Now scram.” The boys reluctantly let go of Steve and made their way out of the store.

“You're the Rogers boy I’m guessing?” Her painted lips curled into a smile and Steve’s heart stopped functioning.

“Y-yeah, how’d you know?” A simple joke, she laughed, Steve felt the heat rise in his cheeks.

“I have my ways of figuring it out. I have your prescription by the way.” She returns to her spot behind the counter and shuffles through the copious amounts of white paper bags.

“Here you are. Oh, and Steve?” Steve looked up at the woman, bottom lip fitting snuggly between her top teeth.

“Yes?”

“Don’t listen to those boys, they’re just jealous of your charm and good looks.” Steve was beet red now. Charm? Good looks? Was the girl mad? Did she really see him like that?

“Miss your kindness is greatly appreciated, but you don’t have to lie.” She frowned.

“You don’t believe those boys do you? Steve, you are possibly the most handsome fella I’d ever laid eyes on. Steve couldn’t believe it. He’s pretty sure no one would believe him.

“Don’t try and make me feel better, beautiful dames like you don’t go for boys like me.”

“You are sorely mistaken, Steve Rogers. Maybe some girls like the handsome momma’s boy types.” She leaned in and planted a soft kiss on his cheek. Steve gasped, an unwanted stir of arousal started to build.

That’s where it all started. That one simple kiss. Its innocence could not foreshadow the wild adventures Steve Rogers and his little pharmacist had planned over the summer. It started out slow, little dates at the local theater and trips to the ice cream shop, but they both wanted more they both needed more.

So that’s how Steve found himself that mid-August afternoon, standing in only his boxer shorts while his pretty little pharmacist laid out naked and panting in his bed. Sarah Rogers had gone out for the day, leaving Steve and his girl to their own scandalous devices.

“You know, my ma would skin me alive if she saw what we were doing right now, said this was a sin.” Both Steve and his girl were told at a very young age that virginity was a special thing to share on a wedding night, however, with both parties wanting more they couldn’t help themselves but give in to their ungodly urges.

“You think the big man will be upset?” Steve disregarded his shorts and reached to take a rubber from her shaking hand.

“Nah, I’m pretty sure Buck’s did worse than what we are doing.” She let out a breathy chuckle.

“Steve, hurry up. I need you.” Steve’s member twitched as he pumped himself a few times and rolled the rubber down his length.

“Patience is a virtue my love.” Steve smirked as his fingers began sliding around her lower lips.

A whine escaped his love’s mouth, soft and breathy. They’ve been practicing for a moment like this. It finally all led up to this. Their first touches, first orgasms, first time seeing each other naked, it all led up to this moment.

Softly, his fingers slide into her tight entrance, a guttural moan echoed throughout the small bedroom. She was still tight after all the sessions they had gone through. He couldn’t resist the urge to keep pumping in and out of her. He was addicted to her moans and movements, Steve wanted to be greedy and make her cum before he got inside of her.

“So beautiful, wish I could have you like this all day.” He moved a tad fast, the pad of his thumb maintaining circular motions on that special spot she always heard about.

“God Steve, I need you, please.” She whined one more as she fisted the sheets below her.

“In a minute my love, I wanna see you come undone around my fingers.” She moaned loudly at the dirty talk. Since their sessions had began, Steve had acquired a tasteful vocabulary that was enough to make anyone gasp in shock.

A few more pumps, each faster then the last, and the beautiful woman before him was quivering around him. His hand had gotten soaked from her arousal, a little had gotten on the bed sheets below her too. He can clean those later anyway. Right now he was determined to be inside his girl once and for all.

“I heard it’s suppose to hurt.” Steve began to feel worried as he placed his covered head at her entrance.

“Only for a little, but it’ll feel better.” She was an angel before him, sweaty and sticky with lust and arousal. She was insatiable and Steve needed her now.

He slowly entered her, she winced a little in pain and Steve began to pull back. She looked up and him and urged him to go on. Little by little, he filled her out. He stayed in her, not wanting to move and hurt her. She nodded her head and urged him to move. It was indescribable, the pleasure the skinny boy above the beautiful woman was sending him over the edge. Steve was expected to release quickly, but he was determined to have his love finish first.

“C’mon my love, give me another one.” His thrush we’re at a steady pace now and she was a mess. Hair sticking to the bedsheets and hands gripping her lovers shoulders. She wanted move, but they would both have to wait to delve into new territory.

“You feel so good. Please don’t stop.” He back arched and Steve almost fell over the edge.

“One more my love and I’ll come with you. One more.” On command she came and Steve followed suit. Both lovers were a panting, sweaty mess.

Steve eases his soft shaft out of her and she whined at the loss of fullness. He quickly removed the rubber and tossed it in the waste bin near his bed. He laid down next to his beloved and wrapped his arms around her.

“Till next time my love.” She turned her head and kiss Steve.

“Till next time.” He kissed her back, deeply and full of love.

**End Flashback**

“Holy shit.” Bucky was bug eyed.

“And you really thought I was lying to ya.” The old man from the bed smirked.

“I can’t believe it.”

“I knew you wouldn’t.” Steve chuckled.

“Well I’ll be damned. Steve Rogers was a scoundrel.” Bucky shook his head still in disbelief.

“So whatever happened between you two? You both just jumped into it right away?” The metal armed soldier was curious now.

“That’s another story for another day, Buck. You’d be surprised how much we did before that day.” Bucky paused for a moment.

“How much you what?!”

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers smut #pre serum steve #pre serum steve x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #captain america #captain america x reader #captain america one shot #captain america imagine #captain america smut #captain america x you #captain america x y/n #marvel smut #marvel one shot #marvel imagine

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spunky-89 · 5 years ago

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A Very Merry Christmas

A/N: Hellloooo, so I know it’s not the weekend, but in my defense, I lost a day. I thought today was Sunday but I have been informed I was wrong. Anywho, this will be a two-parter as I wrote soooo much it felt like I needed to snip it a bit. So without further ado, here is the next part (not in story timeline) of “Domestic(ish) Life”!!!!!

Series Masterlist

Word Count: 3100

The second Thanksgiving ended, you were all in on Christmas. This was not new information to Steve and Bucky. Though Bucky only had a year under his belt where Steve had five. But they knew how much you loved the holiday so even when they weren’t really in the mood, they put on the Santa hats and smiled because it made you happy. And there was nothing they loved more than seeing you happy. ---------

“Come on, come on, come ooonnn,” You whined as you tried to drag the two super soldiers into the tent.

“We’re coming,” Steve laughed.

“Not fast enough.” you groaned and ditched them to head into the tent in front of them.

“I don’t understand why we don’t do this-”

“If you say the old fashion way I swear Bucky, I will murder you.” You glared as he came up behind you.

He put his hands up and laughed, “All right, message received.”

“Good, now put these muscles to use and pull that tree out for me.” You asked as you patted his chest and pointed to a tree towards the back.

You knew that you could actually go to a tree farm in New York, but your family had always gotten them from the tents at Home Depot, Lowes, or just a stand off the main road. It was one of the traditions you couldn’t let go of. That and needing to get a real tree, even when you were alone and had to drag it up to your apartment by yourself.

Steve came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his head on your shoulder. The two of you shared a quiet laugh as you watched Bucky fight to get the tree you wanted from the pile.

“Thank you for doing this with me. I know it’s kind of silly, but-”

“Hey, it’s not silly. It’s something you love and something that means a lot to you. You know we’re there if it means making you happy.” He said. Bucky then let out a string of curses under his breath as he finally got the tree out. “And I can’t say I don’t enjoy myself.”

You giggled and moved forward to evaluate the tree.

Two hours and three Tree Tents later, you had found your perfect tree. The boys helped bring it up and set it in its base. You smiled, clapped, and did a little dance once it was in place.

“I’m glad you’re happy, but I am never doing that again,” Bucky grumbled.

“Aw come on, don’t be like that.” Steve teased.

“There is sap all in the groves of my hand. That shit is never coming out.”

“Le gasp! We do not use that kind of language sir!” You exclaimed in fake shock.

“God I hate you guys.”

“But seriously,” You giggled as you pecked Steve on the cheek in apology, “I told you to wear gloves. It is not my fault you didn’t listen.”

“I didn’t think they were necessary!”

“Well, you should know that I’m always right and you should really listen to me more.” You smiled.

“Whatever, let’s just decorate it.”

“Sorry hunny, but we can’t decorate quite yet. We need to give it a day or two to make sure it’s all puffed out.”

“I have no idea what you just said or why that’s a thing,” Bucky stated as he plopped next to you on the couch.

“It meeaanns, the trees from tents are usually all wrapped up, so it takes them some time to flatten out. So if we put lights and ornaments on it now, they are liable to just fall off once the branches have adjusted.” You explained.

“I see. I still think it’s stupid and next year we’re taking you to a tree farm.”

“Oh, so you’re already planning for next year huh?” You teased.

“You can’t get rid of me princess.” He said as he grabbed you and pulled you into his lap as he hugged you tight and layed kisses all over you while you giggled.

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

The boys were extremely unhappy when a mission popped up two weeks before Christmas. They were so excited to do all the fun Christmas things with you for your first official Christmas as a couple. You assured them it was fine, as it was just a day after all. You firmly held the belief that the day you celebrated didn’t matter, as long as you were celebrating with the ones you love. So off they went.

You were almost kind of glad they were gone. It gave you plenty of time to get their gifts done. You firstly picked up some of the gifts you and Bucky had discussed for Steve and the same with Bucky’s. You had all made the decision to include each other in the gift-giving process to make sure no one got the same things. It was working out pretty good. You did decide to do something extra for both the boys. You wanted to spoil them and it was something you’d been planning for a while anyway. So you got to work. Though you loved buying gifts, you also loved making them. It made you feel like it was just a touch more personal. Luckily you had some time off and were able to put it to use. You actually made it a girls’ night. Nat and Wanda weren’t needed for the mission, so you invited them and Pepper over. You all had a ball, mixing wine and crafts. Though they were all crafty in their own right, they always said your assistance and expertise made it way easier and the product much prettier. Some of the creations were just for fun, or in Pepper’s case, a fun gift to give the man who had pretty much everything.

“So what’s the deal with that?” Nat asked as she was laser-focused on her wine glass, not the one that was full, the one she was painting.

“Well, I’ve been working on this for months, bullying Tony and even enlisting Maria’s help to gather some relics from their past and- I don’t know. I thought it would be cute.” You said with a shrug.

“Oh it’s adorable, I just wasn’t sure what it was from or where you got the idea.” She assured you.

“Oh, it’s from one of my favorite movies.” You explained.

“I see,”

“Hey (Y/N/N), how do you use this thing again?” Wanda asked, staring at the Cricut with hatred in her eyes. You laughed as you put down what you were working on and went over to show her.

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

When the boys returned only five days later, they were thrilled. There was a minor concern that their mission would mess up the holidays, but luck was on your side for this one. But they were faced with a new problem. Christmas was coming fast, and they were stumped at what to get their girl. They knew very well she wasn’t super materialistic and cared more for small gestures then grand ones. But they were just so unsure of what to do. This was the first official Christmas as a triad, and they were panicking.

“I feel like you gotta go jewelry, my man, it’s a classic,” Sam suggested when the boys brought their fears and worries to him.

“But that’s just it, it’s classic. She deserves more than that.” Bucky said with a groan.

“I don’t know, jewelry is pretty romantic. And it can be kind of personalized for her.”

“Still not what we’re looking for though,” Bucky argued.

“Hey, you asked for my help!”

“No Steve asked you. For some reason,”

“Stop it, both you.” Steve sighed, pinching his nose between his fingers and shaking his head.

“I’m just saying, I mean, how many successful relationships has he had?” Bucky asked,

“I’ve had relationships!”

“Name two that have lasted longer than 2 months.”

“Listen here-”

“Enough.”

The three men sat in silence for a while after that.

“What about a companion?” Asked a female voice. Steve and Sam jumped a bit at the sudden appearance of Natasha.

“What?”

“Like a pet or something. I mean she’s always sad when she’s left alone when you guys go on missions.”

“No no, that part I got.” Bucky said, “But how the hell did you know what we were talking about?”

“You guys have been struggling for a week. It’s getting really close to Christmas, I gave an educated guess.”

“You scare me,” Sam said, completely straight-faced.

“Oh, I know that.” She said, smiling innocently at him.

“I don’t know Nat, an animal is so much work.” Steve said, “And they usually end up destroying a lot.”

“Yeah, but (Y/N) is great with animals.” She argued.

“I don’t know,”

“I kinda like the idea.” Bucky chimed in.

“Of course you would. You want a pet just as much as she does.”

“All the more reason. It’s a two-for-one gift.” Bucky said a bright smile on his face.

“I hate you.”

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

An hour later the two men were at a local animal shelter asking the kind workers for help. The receptionist freaked out for a minute but was able to get over her shock and help them. They took a picture with her but made her promise not to post it anywhere until after Christmas as to not ruin the surprise. She willingly agreed.

“So, are you looking for a dog or a cat? Or something else?” She asked as she led them to a back office to talk so they wouldn’t be seen by others out in the main area.

“Uh, we’re not really sure actually,” Steve admitted.

The woman laughed and had them sit down to chat.

“Okay, so this is for your mystery girlfriend I assume?”

“Yeah, we want to get her a companion for when we’re gone, but we’re not sure what would be best,” Bucky explained.

“Alright, does she have a preference for one type of animal?”

The two boys snorted.

“Anything that has fur and four legs.” Bucky laughed,

“Well, that’s not true, she also loves birds and bats.”

“Oh true, can’t forget the bats.”

The woman looked at the two icons in front of her, fond smiles on their faces as they spoke of their lover. She hoped she could one day find someone who would look like that when they talked about her. “I feel that I'm the same way.” She laughed, “Unfortunately, we don’t rescue bats here but we have lots of furry friends.”

“Do have any animals that have been here for a while? Or any animals that you guys don’t think anyone is going to take?”

“Well, we have quite a few that have been here for a year or more, a few senior animals which are less popular, and then animals who have some form of illness or disability.”

“Not one with an illness or disability. Though I’m sure she would love it unconditionally, I think a healthy animal would be better.” Steve said.

“So judgmental Steve,”

“Shut it punk,” Steve said as he glared. He turned back to the woman who was smiling as she watched the two men.

“Come on, I’ll show you a few different critters and you can see what you think will complete your family.”

She led them out the door and down a hallway. Immediately they could hear the barking.

“So, these are some of the dogs who need special attention or are small enough we can fit them in the kennel. We have bigger dogs and healthy ones outside in big pens so they have room to roam.” The woman explained.

She led them to a cage with a small shaggy terrier. It started yapping as soon as the boys walked up.

“So this is Nancy, she’s 3 years old and she’s been here for 8 months. She had some heartworms but she is finally done with treatment and is ready to find her forever home.”

The two boys shared a look.

“She’s cute but I don’t think we want a tiny dog,” Steve said.

“Specifically no yappers,” Bucky added.

The woman laughed and nodded, “I don’t blame you. But that will help our search a little bit.”

She then led them outside where they could see a number of fenced-in areas with dogs of all kinds running, sleeping, or playing with their toys.

“So, first we have Pluto, he’s a 6-year-old Lab/Pit mix. He’s a sweetheart but people get scared with him being part pitbull. He’s active but not so much that he’s too much to handle. He does enjoy going for walks and playing with his ball. He also loves tug-of-war, but I usually warn people about hurting their shoulders due to his strength, but I get the feeling you two won’t need to worry about that.” She smiled as she crouched down to call over the dog.

“Yeah, I think we’ve got that covered.” Steve laughed.

Bucky got down right next to the worker and started petting him through the fence.

“Oh, aren’t you a cutie. Oooh, you’re so sweet.” Bucky cooed.

“I’m gonna live to regret having you here aren’t I?”

“Listen, these cuties need someone to love them. Let me live my life.” Bucky snapped playfully defensive.

Steve laughed and they all moved on to the next dog, then onto cats, and finally the birds and small critters like hamsters and ferrets.

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

Their next stop was the pet store. They talked to the woman at the shelter about what supplies they would need and she gave them a detailed list with some things that weren’t necessary, but might be good to have.

They never realized how many toys you could get for animals. Needless to say, they were extra glad for the instructions as they would have been lost without them. They had put their new family member on hold to be picked up on Christmas Eve and somehow figure out how they were going to smuggle it into the apartment. But they would worry about that later. Right now they were arguing over colors.

“We should get the pink or purple, they’re girl colors,” Steve argued.

“Did you really just say that? Do you know what (Y/N) would say if she heard that?” Bucky asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah, you’re right.” Steve nodded, realizing his mistake.

“Obviously,”

“Don’t get smart with me punk.”

“Whatever, we still need to pick a color.”

“What about (F/C)?”

“No, that’s a weird shade. She would hate that.”

“What about this one?” Steve asked, holding up a sparkly red/orange one with little brown flecks in it.

Bucky tilted his head. “It’s very fall, but I think she’ll love it.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

“One thing down, a hundred to go.” Bucky sighed looking at the list.

“I don’t want to hear it, this is all on you pal. You wanted to do this.” Steve said.

“Oh I know, I have no regrets.”

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

Once they had all of the stuff, they made a quick stop to get bags, boxes, and wrapping paper. They knew they would have to wait until tomorrow to wrap their gifts as by now you were bound to be home from work and they had too much stuff to hide effectively.

They were so glad they had figured this out because they were down to the wire. It was only five days till Christmas.

With it being so close to Christmas you were practically glowing and floating on air. There was constantly a Christmas candle burning and music playing. After all the stress of the year between missions and dealing with telling people about your relationship, the boys were glad to see you let loose and be happy. You were only minorly stressed out because you had offered to host a small Christmas Eve get together with a few of the team who didn’t already have plans. Though you would all be gathering at the Tower for Christmas dinner. But on Christmas Eve it was just going to be Sam, Wanda, Vision, Natasha, and Bruce.

You had grand plans of making all sorts of delicious baked goods for both meals, but on top of it, you had to make an actual dinner for Christmas Eve. But you were thrilled. You loved hosting events and you were ready to hold a holiday in your own space. The boys helped you clean everything and make sure all the presents for the team were wrapped, as well as the presents for each other. You managed to wrangle Steve into assisting you with some of the cooking and decorating of the desserts. Bucky had long been banned from the kitchen because he infamously ate everything and you would end up having to make more. So he was stuck on cleaning duty and doing other minor jobs for you.

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

After a whirlwind of activity leading up to the big night, it was here. You all had discussed it and decided to get a bit dressed up, especially since Tony had decided that it was going to be a pajama dinner. So while the food was finished cooking, you got all dressed up in a dark red, sparkly, knee-length dress. You did your make-up and put on some jewelry before topping the look off with heels you knew you would take off within half an hour. Each of the boys stuck with a nice pair of jeans and a button-up. Both looked absolutely delicious. Not long after you all finished getting ready, you heard the first knock at the door.

As everyone arrived, wine and mixed drinks were served and you all gathered at the table for the meal. As they all sat, you stayed standing.

"Before we all enjoy this meal, I just wanted to say, thank you. This has been a rough year between missions gone wrong and huge fallouts. I want to say thank you for being my family when my family was being dicks. I firmly believe that family isn’t defined by blood but by love. I feel so incredibly lucky to have wonderful people like you surrounding me and trying to keep my dumbasses safe." Everyone laughed a bit, but your eyes had started tearing. "I love you guys. Thank you for accepting me into your family and for understanding that love comes in many forms. Merry Christmas." You finished, raising your glass, tears trickling down your cheeks.

Everyone chorused a 'Merry Christmas' and you sat between your boys, who both squeezed your hands and kissed your cheeks.

#Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve x reader x bucky #stucky x reader #stucky #christmas fluff #christmas #Domestic(ish) life #Winter Solider #winter solider x reader #captain america #captain america x reader

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f4liveblogarchives · 5 years ago

Text

Fantastic Four Vol 1 #187, #188, & #189

Thur Aug 22 2019 [02:04 PM] Bocaj: 187 issues later, still fantastic but not necessarily still four [02:05 PM] Wack'd: Eh, they're still pretty Fourish [02:05 PM] Wack'd: Unless you count Franklin I guess [02:05 PM] Wack'd: Sure, Thundra, Greer, and Impy have been around a lot lately, but Greer insists she's not part of the team and Thundra and Impy don't really play well with others [02:06 PM] maxwellelvis: Also, Impossible Man's been KO'd by an unseen assailant. [02:06 PM] Wack'd: Also true [02:07 PM] Wack'd: Anyway, on the plane ride back from New Salem, the team recaps a little [02:07 PM] Wack'd: Agatha left that place in the hopes that others have her kind would be encouraged to join her, and she blames herself for raising Nicholas badly [02:07 PM] Wack'd: These are, again, the kind of details it might've been nice to have during the actual story so we could wring something out of them [02:08 PM] Bocaj: "Thundra and Impy don't really play well with others" I posit that Johnny and Ben historically haven't always played well with others [02:09 PM] Bocaj: Sometimes a family is that cat woman stray you adopted, the woman from an alternate universe where men are considered the weaker gender until you slammed her universe into another, and that annoying alien [02:09 PM] Bocaj: We'll call him the 'urkel' type [02:09 PM] Wack'd: Let me rephrase that to "are openly contemptuous of others and seem hesitant to do even the bare minimum to lend aid" [02:09 PM] maxwellelvis: Yeah, but in a different way from Impossible Man, who literally nobody except other Popuppians can stand to be around. [02:09 PM] Bocaj: Ok well thats different [02:10 PM] Wack'd: The Four discover Impy, knocked out but apparently unharmed. Sue worries that whoever did this might still be in the Baxter [02:11 PM] Wack'd: We can also add to George Pérez to the long list of comics artists who are bad at drawing children but very good at drawing tiny adults

[02:12 PM] Bocaj: George Pérez can draw a lot of things, in terms of range and also in terms of numerical things on a page but children are black magic that eludes him [02:13 PM] Aleph Null: i relate because children are also black magic that eludes me [02:13 PM] Wack'd: So Johnny flies outside to look in all the windows while Ben decides to go floor by floor. Reed is out out because they made a plan without him and Sue has to heal his fragile ego [02:13 PM] Wack'd: “Without my stretching powers, I'm not really good enough to be anything more than a nursemaid!�� [02:13 PM] Bocaj: fuck off reed [02:14 PM] Aleph Null: can we retitle the blog to “fuck off reed” [02:14 PM] Wack'd: This is a nice moment

[02:15 PM] Wack'd: Honestly I like how forgiving everyone is being of Agatha. Not that anyone on this team has room to throw stones [02:16 PM] Wack'd: Oh my god Johnny is also like "man, running off on my own like I always do probably hurt Reed's feelings" [02:16 PM] Wack'd: Anyway Ben runs into KLAW! [02:17 PM] Bocaj: Ulysses Klaue Klaw? [02:17 PM] Wack'd: Whose shtick at this point is still being made of sound and also being able to fire sound monsters at people [02:17 PM] Wack'd: And not, you know, having a claw [02:17 PM] maxwellelvis: His artificial hand is his claw. [02:19 PM] Wack'd: Oh hey it's this guy

[02:19 PM] Bocaj: oh thats a bad look [02:20 PM] maxwellelvis: Actually that's not that guy. That's a different guy. [02:20 PM] Wack'd: Back in #20 he got the ability to alter non-organic matter because he was exposed to an atomic incident [02:20 PM] Wack'd: Since then he's had a couple of appearances in the 70s, one in Two in One and one in Iron Man [02:20 PM] Bocaj: The guy I knew as Molecule Man is a multiversal bomb [02:21 PM] maxwellelvis: Wait, I saw that guy shrivel up and disintegrate when separated from his wand for too long. [02:22 PM] Wack'd: Yes [02:22 PM] Wack'd: This got undone in the Iron Man appearance I mentioned [02:22 PM] maxwellelvis: oh [02:22 PM] Wack'd: Where he also gained the ability to possess people [02:23 PM] Bocaj: There was a shitty Avengers Assemble episode about Son of Molecule Man [02:23 PM] Bocaj: It had a stylistic flashback to EMH [02:23 PM] Wack'd: Given how fucking often these books are like "oh, they killed him, he's gone for real" and then in a completely different book he comes back to life and then he returns to his original book with a long winded explanation... [02:23 PM] Wack'd: I'm not sure why you would've assumed that he was actually dead [02:24 PM] maxwellelvis: Because this time he left behind a body. [02:24 PM] Wack'd: That doesn't mean anything! [02:24 PM] maxwellelvis: Well, a pile of dust in a ragged old Molecule Man costume. [02:24 PM] Wack'd: At the end of his first appearance the Watcher aged him into oblivion [02:26 PM] Wack'd: Agatha filling the role of "lady who tells Reed to suck it the fuck up" now that Medusa's gone

[02:28 PM] Wack'd: Anyway Ben gets turned into glass, Johnny is drowned in midair, Sue is...uh...

[02:28 PM] Wack'd: Sure, that's how that works [02:29 PM] Wack'd: And Reed tries to fire on the two but his gun is turned to helium and he's knocked out [02:30 PM] Wack'd: Okay so uh [02:31 PM] Wack'd: In the aftermath of that Iron Man I mentioned, Klaw found Owen's wand, with Owen's mind trapped inside, and gave it to a guy he met on the street so Owen would possess that guy [02:31 PM] Wack'd: The narrative notes that the guy was a boxer so I should probably also note that the guy was a boxer in case it becomes relevant [02:33 PM] Wack'd: So! The Four are incapacitated! Who cam save them now! [02:33 PM] Wack'd: Why, Impossible Man, of course. Not because he cares about the team, but because he's angry that someone defeated him in combat [02:34 PM] Wack'd: Impy can shapeshift so Molecule Man can't really do much to him [02:34 PM] Wack'd: And Impy removes his ears and makes himself into a non-sound-conductive material so he's immune to Klaw [02:34 PM] Wack'd: And then he kicks their asses [02:35 PM] Wack'd: Owen had been planning on using Reed's psi-amplifier (from that time Ben and Hulk switched brains) to make it so he could keep his ass in this body forever [02:35 PM] Wack'd: But Reed manages to cut the cord mid-process, sapping Owen back into his wand [02:36 PM] Wack'd: And undoing all the damage he caused [02:36 PM] Wack'd: AND THEN REED PICKS UP THE WAND WITH HIS BARE HANDS, LIKE AN IDIOT [02:37 PM] Wack'd: W E L P

[02:38 PM] Bocaj: Basically Lunella becoming Smartest was long overdue because Reed is dumb [02:38 PM] Bocaj: Someone needed to explicitly be smarter than him or else it would be very sad [02:39 PM] Wack'd: Don't think it's escaped my attention that this is our second evil Reed storyline in which Reed isn't actually evil [02:39 PM] Bocaj: Hm [02:40 PM] Bocaj: At least it’s not an evil Sue storyline [02:40 PM] Bocaj: Those are bad in many many ways [02:40 PM] Wack'd: If Gerry Conway's read on the Reed/Sue divorce arc was "if they're going to split up it should be because Reed does something truly ghastly", it seems like Wein's was "people seem to really want to make Reed a jerk, so how do I do that without altering the fact that he's genuinely a nice person" [02:42 PM] Wack'd: I loathed Conway's take, but Wein's is even worse because it denies the idea that Reed has anything to be culpable for. It seems like people have been shilling him constantly recently--Sue noticing Counter-Reed is unaffectionate to spot the ruse, Ben assuming Counter-Reed is obsessively watching the Negative Zone because he wants to save his counterpart, Counter-Reed immediately becoming a selfless paragon when his headache wears off [02:43 PM] Wack'd: And this issue, too, with everyone but Agatha assuming Reed is entitled to authority and feeling bad for hurting his feelings by doing their own things [02:44 PM] Wack'd: Maybe I'm being uncharitable because he's the cripple-the-b**** guy, but it does really seem like he sees nothing wrong with Reed's normal pattern of behavior and is mildly baffled anyone would. Which would fit well with his aesthetic of overwhelming nostalgia [02:45 PM] Wack'd: Anyway

Thur Aug 22 2019 [02:46 PM] Wack'd: So Reed's brain is trapped in Owen's wand now [02:47 PM] Wack'd: Ben destroys the Psi-Amplifier so Owen can't take over Reed's body permanently [02:47 PM] Wack'd: Owen, in retaliation, traps Sue, Johnny, Ben and Impy in an adimantium cube [02:48 PM] Wack'd: While he goes to blow off some adimantium rage [02:48 PM] maxwellelvis: Spider-Man and Venom ~ Maximum Carnage (Genesis) - Main Theme [02:49 PM] Wack'd: Johnny uses his heat to expand the air in the box, forcing it open, but it takes basically everything he's got [02:49 PM] Wack'd: You would think everybody in that box would die a million times of heat stroke but I guess not [02:50 PM] maxwellelvis: I was about to question the presence of Adamantium in an FF story, then I remembered that A. it's past 1975 now so Wolverine is a thing, and B. Len Wein is one of Wolverine's co-creators. [02:50 PM] maxwellelvis: And I think he first coined "Adamantium" to describe what his claws are made of. [02:51 PM] Wack'd: Watcher has gone from a white Grey to a fat bald guy to a Tor Johnson character

[02:53 PM] Wack'd: Watcher is still not talking, which Ben takes as a sign of apathy [02:53 PM] Wack'd: "Why don't you go to sell tickets to a funeral," he asks [02:54 PM] Wack'd: Ah yes, my favorite Tom Hanks movie

[02:55 PM] maxwellelvis: "You should make'em bugs!" [02:58 PM] Wack'd: Credit where it's due, I think this is genuinely the coolest monster design we've had in a while! You can see some remnants of the Kirby aping that still, in 1977, has not worn off, but it feels novel applied to brick and mortar, and I love the arrangements of the windows and the way the structures on the roof jut out of it's shoulders

[02:59 PM] Wack'd: Reed agrees to stop resisting, and the building returns to normal [02:59 PM] Wack'd: And then his friends show up and Reed starts resisting again [03:00 PM] Wack'd: Thanks to that resistance, Owen can't do anything to our heroes directly, and has to settle for transforming their surroundings [03:00 PM] Wack'd: This would be a lot simpler if they just kept the "no organic matter" limit from his first appearance [03:01 PM] maxwellelvis: Blame Steve Gerber, I guess. [03:01 PM] Wack'd: Impy tries to hit Owen with a giant mallet but Sue stops him because she doesn't want to hurt Reed [03:02 PM] Wack'd: Impy takes it well

[03:05 PM] Wack'd: Unfortunately, Reed's body gets knocked out anyway [03:06 PM] Wack'd: But while this renders the Reed inside of Owen's wand unconscious, it sends Owen into spasms of pain [03:06 PM] Wack'd: Causing him to release his grip on the wand, dropping it into a nearby factory furnace [03:07 PM] Wack'd: And so normalcy is restored--OR IS IT?! [03:07 PM] Wack'd: Reed's decided to resign from the Four [03:07 PM] Wack'd: And Sue's going to join him because "I already deserted my husband once, I'm not going to do it again" [03:07 PM] Wack'd: *sigh* [03:08 PM] Bocaj: 😐

Thur Aug 22 2019 [03:10 PM] Wack'd: FANTASTIC FOUR VOL 1 #189 [03:10 PM] Wack'd: Is a reprint of Annual ’66 [03:10 PM] Wack'd: Moving on [03:10 PM] Wack'd: As if there weren't enough reasons to hate Wein, it certainly seems like a lot of issues get delayed while he's around [03:11 PM] Wack'd: This is the second in less than ten issues [03:11 PM] maxwellelvis: That might explain why Chris Claremont took over Uncanny X-Men almost immediately after Wein revived it

#1977 #Len Wein #George Pérez #The Main Book

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alleiradayne · 5 years ago

Photo

There’s Something Strange A Reader/Sam Winchester Series

When Y/N Y/L/N escapes to the upper Midwest for a weekend of inspiration to begin her tenth paranormal thriller novel, she never imagined the source of that inspiration to be her own life. Between the old mansion, two peculiar men posing as antiquers, and the mysterious death of the heiress of Hill Manor one-hundred and fifty years ago, Y/N learns the truth about far more than the paranormal.

Part VI - The Cleansing

Summary: A ritual and a few spells. Sap, cap, trap. What could possibly go wrong? Warnings/Tags: Characters get beat up by a poltergeist. More fluffy flirting. Square filled: Author AU Characters/Pairings: Reader/Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester Word Count: 3,064 A/N: For @spnfluffbingo2019, this entire series fills the Author AU square. Super giant huge thank you to @atc74 who beta’d this giant thing for me.

“She seemed genuinely terrified you would destroy the pen,” Sam noted as he flipped through a book.

Across the table Dean glared at her as Y/N opened her mouth to speak. “Yeah, about that,” she started, then cleared her throat. “I knew it would work. I did the same thing when I released her. That's why she didn't kill me. But I thought I had actually gotten her to move on to… heaven? Hell? Whatever afterlife that may or may not—”

“Heaven, probably,” Dean said, his glare softened. “You don't go to hell unless a demon collects you for some reason. Or you choose it.”

Y/N blinked at him for several seconds, then opened her mouth multiple times, each with the start of a different question, only to move on. “I'm going to… log that away as if you didn’t just tell me heaven and hell are real and ask my fifty-seven million questions after we’ve taken care of this poltergeist.”

Dean sipped from his drink as he nodded in wordless agreement.

Y/N returned to her book and stared at the page, unable to focus. Too many competing thoughts vied for her attention, and when she tried to give one that very thing, another weaseled its way in to distract her. At least after all this, she would have one hell of a book on her hands.

Sam prodded her arm then and pushed a book to her as he dragged his chair closer. “I think I might have something.”

Though Y/N heard him and understood him, her mind wandered as his presence overwhelmed her. So near, Sam smothered her, and not unpleasantly. Far from it, Y/N wanted little else then, aside from maybe her book to write itself. But since that would never happen, she settled for imagining Sam Winchester in all manner of ways.

“Y/N?”

She blinked. “What?”

“I asked you if the trap made sense,” he said. “It’s… not going to be easy.”

Sam pointed at the open book where Y/N found Latin mixed in with English. As she scanned the page, the plan clarified. “A ritual and two spells. Gives all three of us something to do, right?”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed as he smiled. “It does. Do you need help with—”

“Non opus auxilium cum latine.”

Sam’s smile brightened as he laughed. “You speak Latin. Of course you do.”

Her chest tightened at the brilliant flash of excitement in his eyes. “I do,” she said as she smiled and averted her gaze. Looking at Sam was like staring too long at the sun, but oh how she wished she could stare for days.

“Huh,” he breathed as he leaned ever so slightly closer. “Of all the civilians to get involved in a hunt—”

“Jesus Christ,” Dean groaned. “Just give me my spell so I can go memorize it on my own.” He brandished his open hand as he leaned across the table.

Sam tore a page from her notebook and jotted down the spell. “We need some components for the ritual, too. Can you grab this stuff from the car?” he asked as he handed Dean the paper. “The bowl, too?”

Dean shot Sam a flat glare before looking over the paper, glanced at Y/N, then back at the paper. “Alright. We’ll meet up in the ballroom in an hour. Unless someone shows up again.”

Sam flashed a quick smile as he said, “Thanks.”

Dean disappeared around the corner of bookshelves, the thump of his heavy boots fading into the distance until silent. Y/N stared at the chair he vacated, too many thoughts warring in her mind. But the comforting warmth of Sam’s long fingers and massive palm enveloped her shoulder, and she startled as she turned to face him.

He, too, jumped as he reared back and withdrew his touch. “Sorry. I shouldn’t do that—”

She silenced him with a touch, cupping his cheek. “Sam, please don’t second guess yourself.”

His eyes closed as he nuzzled her hand, turning into her palm. A deep breath expanded his broad chest, and his lips pressed to her palm where he kissed her. But then he grasped her hand in both of his and held it to his chest, and his eyes opened as he said, “I'm scared. This… you, helping us, isn't exactly how we do things. And even when a civilian gets involved, it…”

His words faded as he stared into her eyes, that familiar, profound look of simultaneous longing and pain. “It never felt like this?”

“It’s been a while,” he said. “Let’s just put it that way for now. After this, after we zap this poltergeist back into its trap, we’ll talk. I promise. Is that okay with you?”

Not a hint of a lie hid in his eyes no matter how hard Y/N searched. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe everything he had said. But she knew how the story ended. Sure, they might lock the poltergeist away. Except the cost might be greater than they understood. Or worse, Sam understood that cost intimately, and because of that, had chosen to put off talking with her.

Y/N lurched from her chair into his arms, hers wrapped around his neck, and her lips planted on his. And God bless Sam’s embrace, for in it, she had never felt safer. At least she knew he would be there for her, do his best to protect her. There she found a modicum of solace, that whatever happened next, they would face it together.

When they parted, Sam breathed through his smile as she touched her forehead to his. “You know, if Dean came back right now, that’d make a hat trick.”

“Wow. A hockey joke. In Minnesota. Don’t quit your day job,” Y/N teased.

He turned to the table with a frustrated sigh. “Speaking of day jobs,” he said, “we should get to memorizing this stuff. If you don’t mind, I’d prefer the ritual.”

She cocked an eyebrow at him as Y/N returned to her chair. “You don’t think I can handle it?”

“As capable as I think you are, the ritual is… the most vulnerable part of this process,” Sam explained as he pointed to the text. “You’d be exposed to her at her strongest.”

“And I won’t be when we’re trapping her?” she asked.

“Correct,” Sam continued. “The ritual is going to sap her of her paranormal energy. Dean’s spell will bind her to the pen. And your spell,” he paused as he pointed to her page, “will actually trap her in it. Sap, cap, trap.”

Her gaze drifted to the pen where it sat in its holder beside its twin on the base of the inkwell in the center of the library table. “We’ll have to do something about it then. Hide it? I’m guessing it can’t be destroyed if it’s holding a poltergeist.”

“Correct again,” Sam laughed. “We can think of what to do with it later, though. For now,” he took a deep breath and pushed the book towards her, “we’ve got some memorization to do.”

“Great.”

If she made it through the night, Y/N vowed to hear Sam’s laughter every day for the rest of her life.

“Did you two actually memorize your spells or just make out the whole time?”

“Aw, poor Dean, hasn’t been laid in weeks,” Y/N teased.

He stared at her with a flat, thin-lipped glare until he rolled his eyes and handed her the bowl full of ritual components. “Yeah, fine, I’m jealous. Go give this to that damn gorilla over there and tell him I said not to fuck it up.”

She crossed the large ballroom to give the bowl to Sam as she asked, “Why are we in here anyway? Why not the library?”

Over her shoulder, she watched as Dean approached a table, fingertips teasing the tablecloth and eyes dancing across the banquet settings. “Because,” he started, “there’s more space. Library’s too cramped.”

Sam stood as she approached with the bowl and took it from her. “He’s got a point.”

A rapid rush of fabric spun them both about to find Dean with an entire tablecloth in his hands, his eyes wide and his mouth wider. “Holy shit, I did it.” He pointed at the table where, sans tablecloth, stood place settings for six and a wide centerpiece full of fall flowers, all shifted two inches towards him.

“He… I am so sorry. He watches too many movies,” Sam muttered as he shook his head.

“At least the flowers are still standing,” Y/N said with a wink.

The bowl dropped to the table with a dull thud as Sam groaned. “Great, now there’s two of you.”

Though she laughed, the moment of levity faded in a wisp of smoke as she watched Sam work. A ritual. Real magic again. And a spell. She was going to cast a spell, something that, eighteen hours ago, she had known to be fictional. All that had come crumbling down around her, and since that moment, when Sam had told her the truth in the library, Y/N had oscillated between elation, fear, and sadness. Innocence lost, her books no longer represented an escape from reality.

Life had proven to be stranger than fiction.

“Ready?”

His baritone pacified her conflicted thoughts, settling them to a dull roar in the back of her mind. She turned into his touch at her shoulder and hugged him as hard as she could.

“You're gonna be fine, Y/N,” he said as he smoothed her hair. “I promise.”

When she looked up into his eyes, she found the same fear that gripped her chest. “You shouldn't make promises you can't keep.”

“I don't.”

Serious as a heart attack, Sam’s dark stare lingered on her a moment longer before he parted from her. Back at his table, he stood before the bowl, final components in hand.

Y/N took up her position two tables away, hidden behind a large pillar. Across from her, Dean stood behind a similar pillar, and gave her a thumbs up. Between the two of them, she knew she should be reassured. But the nagging worry that everything would go terribly wrong never loosened its vice-like grip of her racing heart. And as Sam’s commanding voice filled the cavernous ballroom, Y/N hoped—prayed, even—that he and Dean would prove her wrong.

Spiritus, dico vobis, et ita erit tibi reaponsum. Spiritus, ego dicam, et sic tibi manifestatur. Spiritus, ego præcipio tibi, et ita, so obedieritis.

He tossed a component into the bowl, followed by an ignited matchbook. A slow kindling crackled to life as a subtle simmer caught the twigs and powders. At first, she thought the ritual had failed. She saw no sign of the poltergeist. Or any spirit for that matter. But when Sam repeated the mantra, the fire in the bowl flared three feet in a gout of violent green flame. Sam recoiled as he shielded his face with his arms, but he maintained his cadence, repeating the ritual’s words as the fire settled, then turned a beautiful shade of blue.

A sharp gust of wind whipped through the room bearing the same chill she had felt twice that night, and it seeped into her bones once more. Her breath clouded and condensed before her open mouth, and her eyes widened in shock, not only at the freezing air but at the sight of Sam bathed in blue light from the flames of the ritual bowl. He towered over the table, spine straight and shoulders held back as he commanded the paranormal powers of the afterlife to bend to his will.

And bend they did. Dust and dirt gathered in a swirling cloud in the center of the room. Strikes of lightning darted across the windows and illuminated the ballroom in staccato flashes. Sam repeated his ritual as he leaned into the howling wind and the form amassing in the center of the solidified into the spirit of Y/N Hillstead once more.

An ear-piercing shriek shattered the glass of the windows in a wall of sound as the poltergeist threw back her head in wild rage. Pain lanced like fire through her entire body as Y/N collapsed to her knees, hands clamped over her ears but to no avail. Endless seconds stretched as darkness encroached, and Y/N willingly submitted to that painless nothing, so ready for it all to end in so few seconds.

The screams stopped with a sputtered choke, and as the wind settled, her vision cleared. Chill and pain all subsided in a wave of warmth as Dean's deep growl recited his spell. She peeked around the pillar to find Sam brandishing an iron poker in one hand and a can of salt in the other as the poltergeist struggled against invisible bonds. Sam’s ritual had worked, sapping the spirit of her power and priming it for Dean’s binding spell. And Dean, his booming voice filling the ballroom, commanded his spell as though second nature.

Spiritus, ego catenam, et sic te manere. Spiritus, ego dica te, et sic manebitis. Spiritus, adiuro vos, et ita vos peregrinamini.

He held the pen out before him as the veins of green glowed in angular shafts of eerie light cast across his face. The poltergeist wheeled about and rushed him in that last second before Dean whipped the pen across the room to Y/N where she leaped out from behind the pillar and caught it.

As the poltergeist towered over Dean with a clawed hand raised, he shouted, “Get her!”

Sam threw his can of salt at the poltergeist only for it to pass straight through her head. Dean caught it and flung an arc of salt at her, but Y/N Hillstead continued her pursuit, bearing down on Dean like a wolf on its prey.

“Y/N! Do it!”

Sam’s shout shocked her into action, one confident step after the other bearing her towards the poltergeist. She gathered all her willpower, breathed in a breath so full, and spoke.

Spiritus, ego confinium te, et sic te erit perseverare. Spiritus, ego cohibere te, et sic te erit ferre. Spiritus, ego imprison te, et sic te patietur. In aeternum.

The pen flashed so bright Y/N shielded her eyes as her last step faltered. The pen warmed in her fist brandished before her, gold and green lights glimmering from it and dancing on the floor and ceiling as a strained hiss sought release. The poltergeist wheeled about as that hiss rose to a howling of wind, drawing her towards Y/N when she opened her hand. She wanted nothing more than to run in that moment as the poltergeist started for her, drifting agonizingly slow, each second longer than the last.

“Say it again! Keep saying it!”

Dean’s bellow barely sounded above the wind, but Y/N heard him. And so, she repeated herself, poured her entire soul into that spell, believed beyond everything she had ever thought possible. It had to work. Sam wouldn’t let anything go wrong if he was there. He had found the spell and said it would work.

Cold crept up her arms, her spine, and settled in the pit of her stomach as the lights flickered, dimmed, then snuffed out like so many little lives. The icy fingers of death closed on her throat as Y/N Hillstead reached her and squeezed, lifting Y/N three feet off the floor, and screamed an unholy wail that wracked her entire body with pain the likes of which she had never felt before.

The last of the gold and green light in the pen sputtered and died, and as the darkness returned, Y/N witnessed the last thing she would ever see. Dean tried first, ambushing from behind, but a casual flick of the poltergeist’s wrist sent him flying across the ballroom and through a table where he stilled amongst the rubble. Sam followed, hot on his heels with the iron poker, only to be thrown aside much the same, a ragdoll discarded and forgotten in a crumpled pile beneath a shattered table where the ritual bowl had once stood.

All for naught, their magic had failed. And all three of them would die because of it. Because of her. Because she let loose a century-and-a-half old vengeful spirit in an impulsive bid for inspiration. What was worse was that Sam and Dean’s last memories would be of her, the woman that had gotten them into the mess that ended in their deaths. And she had no one to blame but herself.

But only if she let it happen that way.

Y/N dug deep for the last of her strength and reached for her back pocket. Numb fingers fumbled at the handle as she cursed in her delirious state. The poltergeist turned her attention back to Y/N in that single second, and as their eyes locked, time stood still. For that infinitesimal blip in her life, death seemed inevitable.

The click of the torch drew both of their eyes down to her hand where Y/N had shoved the pen into the hand-torch’s bright blue flame. The poltergeist dropped her to her feet as her strength wavered, bits of dust flaking from her outstretched hand. Shriveled fingers reached for her face, clawed at her flaking flesh as her jaw opened, but no scream sounded. Her hands faded, followed by her arms, and then her body. As the pen charred and burned, her clothes drifted to pieces, and bit by bit, her face disintegrated. In so few seconds, it was over. The remains of Y/N Hillstead sat in a pile of ash at Y/N’s feet, a threat no longer.

A groan and clattering of rubble snatched her attention as Sam roused from his ruined table. His eyes swept the ballroom until he found Dean stirring from his own pile of dinnerware and wood. He rushed to him, tossing pieces of the table aside until he reached Dean, then, when he was sure he was okay, hugged him so hard, Dean gasped.

On his feet, Dean, too, scanned the ballroom only to settle on Y/N, the pile of ash at her feet and clutching her hand-torch.

“Son of a bitch.”

Sam looked between Y/N and Dean. “What?”

“C’mon, you friggin’ ape,” Dean started. “We’re going to the kitchen.”

“Wha-why?!” Sam protested. “I want to know what the fuck just happened!”

“Y/N can tell you,” he said.

Sam checked over his shoulder as she followed them from the ballroom. Sheepish, she smiled as she averted her eyes.

“Why are we going to the kitchen?”

“Because I owe Y/N a drink.”

“For what?”

Dean shot her a smile over his shoulder.

“For saving our asses.”

If you want to be tagged for this series specifically, send me an ask or a DM! If you want in on any of my tags (Sam/Jared, Dean/Jensen), you can ask for that, too!

THERE’S SOMETHING STRANGE MASTER LIST

ALLEIRADAYNE’S SPN FLUFF BINGO MASTERLIST

ALLEIRADAYNE’S SPN MASTER LIST

The Whole Thang:

@atc74 @hannahindie @bevans87 @meganwinchester1999 @plaided-ani-on-hiatus @oneshoeshort @jonogueira @andkatiethings @elfinmox @wonderfulworldofwinchester @princessofthefandomrealm @just-another-busyfangirl @jmekitchens @81mysteriouslyme @dolphincliffs @seenashwrite @canadianspnhunter @meowmeow-motherfucker @depressed-moose-78 @staycejo1 @hobby27 @pretty-fortune @mypopculturediva @fanfictionjunkie1112 @sandlee44 @4llmywr1tings @claitynroberts @maddiepants @scarletluvscas @donnaintx @blackeyedangel9805 @rainflowermoon @winchesterprincessbride @lazinessisalliknow @the-is13 @waywardafgrandma @keymology @sister-winchesters99

Sam’s Sasstresses:

@morganas-pendragons @karouwinchester

There’s Something Strange:

@peridottea91 @amanda-teaches

#alleiradayne writes #spn fanfic #spnfluffbingo #spnfluffbingo2019 #reader/sam winchester

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shireness-says · 6 years ago

Text

You Mean Everything

Summary: Even in the silliest moments, Emma and Killian always manage to find the beat together. A little lighthearted rockstar!Emma AU snippet. ~1.3K. Rated T for mild language. Also on Ao3.

Read from the beginning: On Ao3. On tumblr: Maybe I Won’t Die Alone, Second Verses and Happy Beginnings, Lullaby, Nobody’s Business, Have you ever thought about what protects our hearts?

A/N: Have you guys missed reading these? I’ve missed writing them. Thanks to @snidgetsafan for her beta services yet again.

This is completely inspired by that time some friends and I got a little tipsy and tried to sing along to “Come On Eileen” at the restaurant. And found out it’s damn near impossible. Seriously, there’s too many words for how much music there is. Anyways, it was a karaoke prompt waiting to happen. This fic takes place somewhere between the original fic and “Second Verses and Happy Beginnings”, after Killian’s song but before they move in together or get married or any of that. Title taken from the aforementioned song.

Tagging those who have historically like these: @kmomof4, @shady-swan-jones, @effulgentcolors, @onceuponaprincessworld, @mythologicalmango

Enjoy, and let me know what you think!

Killian groans as soon as the song starts. It’s unusual for him; after all the years of their acquaintance, platonic and intimate, Emma knows he’s not a man predisposed to complaining, and if he does it’s usually displayed on his face or with his words, not so inarticulately.

(Well, there are situations where she can get him to groan, Emma’s learned in the past 6 months they’ve been together, but they involve a lot more privacy and a lot fewer clothes. In the middle of the Jolly Roger on karaoke night is nowhere near the time or place.)

“Oh god. This is the worst song for karaoke, just awful,” he complains.

Emma listens closely for a moment, somehow managing to recognize “Come On Eileen”. Yeah, it’s the kind of thing that groups of drunk old white men would choose instead of Scarlet, but it’s kind of a classic. Sort of. It’s not horrible, at least. “I don’t know about that, it seems catchy. One hit wonder or whatever.”

Killian just glares at her incredulously, a bar towel slung over his shoulder in that way she not-so-secretly thinks is sexy. “Maybe it sounds fun, but have you ever looked at the lyrics, Swan?” he asks. “There’s far too many words for the rhythm provided. Listen:”

He has a point. The singer is practically tripping over his own tongue to get all those words out, and the tempo isn’t even fast enough to make it necessary. “Oh god, that really is bad.” Has she never actually listened to the verses before, only the chorus? The more she hears, the more likely it seems.

“Exactly,” he nods decisively. Know-it-all. “I’m just saying, anyone who chooses this song is unbearably cocky, unbearably stupid, or hasn’t heard the song in years. Or a fearful combination of the three.”

It’s a ridiculous statement, especially since one of Killian’s closest friends is the one currently trying to sing that mess. And failing. No one has ever accused the drummer of having good taste in anything but women, and Emma’s just granting him that because one of her friends is the woman in question. “What’s Scarlet then?” Emma asks teasingly.

“Oh, definitely the horrifying mashup,” Killian grins. “As if you have to ask.”

Obviously.

The more Emma watches, the more it seems like a caricature - Will busting out some terrible dance moves and bopping his hips back and forth, singing into the mic with more enthusiasm than Emma’s seen all night. But the more Emma watches, the more she also notices how all his ridiculousness is aimed right at Belle, like he’s trying to crack her up. It’s working, too; the brunette wears a wide smile across her face and tosses her head back in laughter as her boyfriend executes a particularly absurd butt wiggle.

“Maybe he’s doing it to make Belle smile,” Emma suggests softly, allowing the teasing to seep out of her tone. It’s not a laughing matter, after all; if anything, it’s rather sweet.

Emma can read on Killian’s face that he agrees as well, can see it in the way his own smile softens and the lines around his eyes set into a gentle crinkle. “Maybe that too,” he admits.

Regardless of why Will is making such a spectacle of himself, it’s a lot of fun to watch. Like always, Scarlet throws himself into karaoke like this is the make-or-break moment of his career, something that Emma always gets a kick out of. Killian’s right - it’s really not a good karaoke song at all. She’s a little right too, though, as it’s undeniably catchy. The crowd is loving it, and even Emma finds herself tapping a foot along to the beat on the rung of her bar stool.

Killian obviously notices too, as when the second verse starts, he extends a hand in Emma’s direction. “What do you say, love?” he offers. “Want to dance?”

Emma huffs a laugh in response, looking at him incredulously. “Weren’t you just the one complaining about this song?” It’s tempting, but she’s not even sure how it’d work with this music. Between that and his objections, any attempt at dancing seems a bit doomed from the start.

“Aye, but that doesn’t mean it’s not still a fun tune,” he argues. “C’mon, Swan, just a little turn around the floor.”

And somehow, she finds herself accepting.

Neither one of them is particularly graceful, as it turns out, but they make do with a silly little shuffle and sway back and forth. Mostly, Emma revels in the closeness of their position, with one of his hands low and tight on her back and her arm looped under his to hang on to his shoulder. Their other hands are grasped loosely, alternating between being pressed against Killian’s chest right above his heart in during their more sedate movements and propped out to the side, swinging back and forth, during more energetic ones. Killian doesn’t seem to particularly care what they look like, leading her in crazy circles and spinning her over and over again right in a row until Emma’s forced to brace herself against the dizziness. Probably his plan all along - to get her somehow pressed even closer along his body. The happy grin on his face and that eyebrow wiggle certainly suggests it.

That grin drops soon enough into panicked confusion and the song suddenly slows down. Serves him right. Emma can’t help but laugh as Killian practically trips over his own feet as he hurries to get back on beat. “Shit, I forgot about the tempo change,” he mutters, before pulling an embarrassed face as Emma lets loose another snort. She can’t help it - it’s always been adorable to see him flustered.

“Oh, like we were doing so well before,” she teases back.

“Oh hush, you.”

(And then it’s her turn to be a little flustered, as Killian punctuates the admonition with a little nip at her earlobe. Ridiculous, infuriating, sexy, wonderful idiot of a man.)

All too soon, the music is over and Will hops back down from the small corner stage to let the next singer get ready and to go kiss his girlfriend. Emma can’t blame him. Still, she’s a little sad the song is done. Even if she’d been reluctant at first, she’d really enjoyed twirling around in Killian’s arms. Their dancing was nowhere close to ballroom quality, of course, but there’d been a lot of laughter and a lot of fun. Proper waltzes probably don’t have enough twirls and spins in them anyways. They’ll definitely have to do this again sometime, she thinks.

“Still think it’s the worst song ever?” Emma asks, slinging her arms around Killian’s neck before he can move back behind the bar to help Merida. Not that he seems to mind, reaching for her hips on what must be instinct by now. Merida is handling the bar patrons just fine by herself anyways.

Killian snorts, seeing right through her teasing. He leans in close to nuzzle against her forehead before replying. Such a sap. “For karaoke? Yes. To make you smile? No.”

Even if she’s absolutely, definitely, completely charmed, Emma still rolls her eyes. She’s got to keep up her persona or whatever, after all. “Kiss-up.”

“Your kiss-up,” he whispers, dropping a light kiss to her lips. Not that that’s the end of it; maybe he would have left it there, but Emma’s more interested in dragging him into a proper kiss. Who needs to get back to work, anyways?

(Months and years later, Killian jokingly suggests they use “Come On Eileen” for their first dance at their wedding, recreate their first dance as a couple. They’re both willing to settle for putting it on the playlist and laughing all the while at their own private little joke. Killian never does remember the tempo change, but Emma thinks that might be what marriage is like anyways - working around the unexpected together.

They’ll catch the rhythm again.)

#captain swan #cs ff #captain swan ff #my writing #You Mean Everything #Maybe I Won't Die Alone #rockstar!Emma verse #rockstar!Emma #bartender!killian #and some terrible karaoke #Scarlet just has the worst taste honestly

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brucebannerblr · 5 years ago

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Re: Bruce/Tony/Strange - Sorry it took me so long to get back to you! The first word that came to mind when I read your reply was "awkward", so let's go with that. Hope you can do something with it. :)

This took absolutely forever but I hope you’ll still see it someday, anon.

Writer’s Month Day 4: Road trip

Awkward doesn’t even begin to cover it.

It started like this.

Bruce and Tony were eating breakfast in the communal kitchen because they were heading to a conference they both got invited to later this week and would be heading out in the afternoon. Tony was there because Steve wanted to talk with him about some details about leadership during Bruce’s and Tony’s little vacation, and Bruce was there because Bruce was a sap who always ate with Tony.

And Stephen simply ate in the communal areas because he was an old, sad and lonely mess.

He didn’t mean to crash the conversation either but he was invited to the same conference and he couldn’t portal there because he didn’t know the place and Bruce offered that he and Tony take him when Stephen mentioned that because Bruce was a saint. And because the conference was in the Middle of Nowhere, Mountains, which was only reachable by car, here they were.

On a road trip, Stephen crammed into the back of a car with two men who he had a crush on who just happened to already be a happy couple, and the car broke down.

The worst part of it was that it had to be Tony Stark they broke down with, and Tony was really competent with cars... and also ridiculously hot in just a top, smeared with engine grease. Because it was Middle of Ridiculously Hot Nowhere, naturally. And Bruce took off his shirt too and Stephen was literally Not Dealing At All.

God, he needed Christine so he could release his sexual frustrations at someone.

“He looks unfairly gorgeous like this, doesn’t he?”

Stephen almost tripped, freeing himself of his own shirt because it was becoming unbearable without the car A/C, and looked at Bruce as if he had grown a second head.

“I’m sorry, did you say something?”

Because certainly, he must have misheard.

“I said, Tony is stupidly sexy when he’s working, don’t you agree?”

Stephen could see blush rising on his face, unsure what was even happening. Then Bruce looked Stephen’s bare chest over, carefully up and down and lord almighty, there was no way to misinterpret that, was there?”Not that you look too bad yourself.”

That was when Tony approached. Not helping at all.

“Okay, I give up. Wanna take us home, magic man? Fuck conferences... Oooh, Brucie, you didn’t tell me you got him out of his shirt!”

In the end, Stephen’s day ended a lot better than he could have expected it to.

#writersmonth2019 #science triple boyfriends?#magic science boyfriends?#bruce x tony x stephen #Anonymous

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alchemisland · 5 years ago

Text

Moors Mutt IV - Old Stone

Lar had set plates of milk and egg on the exterior ledge in tribute to the fae folk said to inhabit the ancient mounds. Ah, how rugged tradition. Despite innumerable era-defining events happening daily across the world, for the village of Sperrin it was just another day when the sun rose and, with luck, set again in the evening. They hadn't time for dullards in tailed suits dictating tastes, but they had still team to tend the interspecies relations their ancestors cherished. By all accounts I have heard, to spurn the giving of tributes and gifts incurs great penalty from these entities, with many a workman rising with thorns in his bed after rooting out on the old Hawthorns, which are so revered entire networks and key routeways, which I say should serve to modernise this place a bit, are diverted from their course to leave the old fairy trees in peace. Even now I puzzle at this strange practice, at the contrast between past and present evident in all things once you leave the big cities. The fae, I have since learned, are a race of otherworldy beings driven beneath the furrows as the plague of mankind spread; its boils gaping swordwounds, its pus the belch of industry, and always fatal. Thackeray's 'Sketchbook 1842' spake thusly on the practice; "Crude as their barn religion seems to the imperial beholder, there is yet intricacy in this practices and archaic wisdom therein. If a faith's claim to true institutional status is the number of adherents, there are more worshippers in these bog towns, who bear saints names, than ever had Patrick driven toward the tide." Thackeray made no mention of an egg dish though.

A scarred moggy had the scent hot on his nostrils, thought he what fine folks we to leave a sup for me. I watched him furtively take the decking and slink toward the dish. First he tapped the rim to glean what consequence he might incur, but seeing the clear craned and began to lap its contents delightedly, soaking its whiskers. Fergus thundered out the door, beelining towards the cat which he had spied through the window. He lifted a knee with all grace of rusted Talos and swung the appendage toward the hissing feline. Bold, but not careless, the moggy bailed, zipping from sight before Fergus' hobnail hit. I supposed it a tad overreactive, but when one considers the fae as a true belief system, that cat was essentially gobbling up our good faith, and I thought with another opportunity I'd have done the same.

Lar seemed smaller inside. The barframe served to deemphasize his ample stature, a kingly six foot one stood stock straight; more kingdom keep than tavern keep, and a fur mantle he wore most Heraclean. He took great stomping strides, as in a childhood tale my mother fireside imparted of a giant who wore seven league boots. His ever-bailed fists hung like cudgels by his side, two loyal hounds never stumped for purpose. In his great shadow, one felt a gratitude for civilisation; a concept voluntary for men like Lar. Every second a short man, like me, spent not being torn limb from limb by a man like him was a second lived by his decree.

I swanned to his side, eager for revelation, suddenly taken by the spirit of adventure. Not quite the long walk to the docks before an age on the high seas, for indeed the only thing Sperrin had to resemble the rippling sails of farbound triremes were the sad slanted fabric roofs in the central square still hanging from the Christmas Market, but it was no less a proud moment and a little death; the death of office and oath, of duty, of tedium; for that day I was no longer a swaddled urbanite, good only for council meetings and book reviews, I was reborn in renown; I set off toward the unknown with all the zeal of a whorebound sailor, as of old heroes had.

'Lar, a moment if I could. In the house yesterday I found a bill of sale for an old church somewhere in the demesne. Do you know it?' I asked.

'Know it? Took my first communion there. As did he.' Lar nodded toward Fergus who jostled delightedly, pulling the second of three bags across his vast flank. 'Everyone did. Before she got her toxic claws in.'

'You're joking? I didn't think to ask last night, I thought you wouldn't be interested. This is most fortuitous. Oh, lash me for assuming. What age were you when it closed?'

'After first Communion.' Lar said, concealing his question.

'I'm not Roman Catholic. Happy? My father was a man of intense private faith. Very distrustful of institutions. He encouraged us, and others, to think for ourselves, not to puzzle overmuch the mysteries of man's making.'

'That explains a lot.' said Lar, papist to the root.

'I'm no heathen.' I exhaled my irriation. 'I know my bible well as any bishop; better even. My father wanted to join the priesthood, alas it was not to be. A noble ambition, even unfulfilled. Does that satisfy your piety?'

'What stopped him?' said Lar, unsatisfied. I saw glinting around his neck a pendant freshly clad, its chain lightly linked, an effigy of holy Saint Anthony sun-crowned acentre against a gold rondure.

I shrugged my shoulders. 'Insitutions? He didn't talk about it. So enlighten me if you will; what age is Communion? Twelve - or is that Consternation?'

'It's Confirmation.' Lar spat through gritted teeth. 'Communion is the unleavened bread. Usually the ceremony takes place when the child is seven or eight.'

'Right. And Lady Sizemore, you would not deny she was a woman of means?'

Lar scoffed, loosening phlegm. 'I would not.'

'I had presumed so. Her estate is vast, her house lavish, its contents irreplaceable, its memories priceless, but she was not ostentatious in herself. Lar, I know we're out for the beast and don't worry, I still intend keeping up with the thing, but my heart is really set on figuring this church business. See, I have had cause to see her financial records, public and private. Aside from maintenance costs and the occasional queenly feast, she seemed positively a pincher of pennys, a scrimper.' When our eyes met Lar squinted suspiciously, waiting for more. 'I mean to say Lady Sizemore seemed modest despite her earnings, yet enormous costs were incurred purchasing the church and moving the cairn. I want to know why it's so special.'

'You'll soon find out. Where do you think we're going?'

'Truly? An angel. Art thou an angel? Thou art, truly. Who else so cherubim in cheek and lobe!' I nearly clicked my heels. 'How serendipitous I should inquire. Let me ask another question; what's there now?' We had slowed, each of us, in anticipation of local colour. If trips to the outdoors had purpose, twas this, tramping blind and giving life to what has passed, and perhaps in gratitude, if a higher place exists than this, the dead will bid us good fortune.

'Nothing much anymore. There's been a church on that ground since before any Bishop in Rome ever lied. The first Christians arrived, little more than farmers, armed with twisted staves. Stone by stone they built a temple for their desert god, refuse from the cold of the islands. The Gods of ancient Albion were not of the sun, blithe were they to effulgence. Came they from beneath the clod. Slithered out from eel bores and swam the narrow estuaries like boneless longships. Worshippers twisted as their idols took every chance to spurn the advances of the interlopers, but such savagery cannot be upheld. Hate is not enough. Hate is the infernal speed, the thud of knuckles, the thunder at the antler crash of rutting stags, but it is a fickle thing, a false security, sapping and parasitic. By generations, these savage men became curious. They had killed so many, sundered their doings and mocked their skygod, yet still the missionaries adhered his tenets. Perhaps, they thought, this God is some powerful thing. And with that, the spell of the old ways was broken. Already as the tribesmen made their first ginger steps up the slopes, the slopes we ourselves will ascend, the suckered whips and shadowed protrusions of the old ones retracted to the otherworld, down into the deep dells and dark delvings and the dwindling darks of earth. Came they curious and unarmed, bid the missionaries impart this wisdom worth dying for. This site was not alone chosen for its useful vantage and strategic defensive position. The arriving zealots had observed natives worshipping standing stones, more ancient than the predeluvian cultures of hyborea and Tartaria. Such megaliths were known to hold great arcane power. The priests need only convince the tribes that power was theirs, a demonstration of their gospels infallibility, done easily within a generation. Priests controlled education, taste, oversaw cultural changes, discarded blasphemous and mysterious rites. Soon the brood knew nothing of the traditions held by their forebears. An epoch of strife began.'

'Ah. So the priests came, withstood the assault and incorporated existing idols into their own pantheon? How cunning, deceitful and a tragedy I should say too.'

'All-seeing though their God was, people will always do as they please. The old ways survive unchanged, even to this day the older townsfolk meet for the mysteries. When Fergus and I were bairns enormous crowds travelled from far afield to celebrate the imbolc, until she rooted out the cairn and left the church to rack and ruin. It shouldn't have been allowed.' Lar nodded, the ire of its sundering still upon him fresh, running like new fire in his veins and I saw with each clumping step he drove the point of his boot into the soft ground, like a knight's lance in a fallen pikeman's back, spending his annoyance in this manner.

When I saw his shoulders raise with tension lifted and gait restored, I probed further. 'Do you know the priest?'

'Er - yes. Tarbuck I think his name was.'

'What about Talbot - as in Talbot Church?'

Lar raised a suspicious brow, like a furtive otter arching from the swell, they were thin, brown and sleek, I'd say manicured if I didn't know him better, but I suppose I did not know him well at all. His mouth began to turn and I watched him, trying to clear my mind in anticipation of inquest. At last he spoke most considered, rising to be heard over Fergus' hyucking. 'Yes I suppose that sounds right. Talbot. Couldn't tell you more. Why are you asking if you already know? If I didn't know better, I'd say you're withholding information, partner.'

'You wouldn't believe me if I told you.' What could I tell him? That I had seen a faceless priest with mucky vestments out for a midnight walk? Where did I see him? Funny you should ask, in bed. In bed? Well, yes. I was in bed, but my mind was to the church called be the peal of silent bells. No, it was best to withhold until I knew more, and still all this time there was the beast, presumably furious at having been picked second.

I was met with silence. More space came between us. Knowing Lar and Fergus would soon disappear from sight, I was forced to shout over the wind, 'Why did she move the Cairn?'

Lar shrugged again. True to his word, he could not tell more than that. 'Winter.'

I had thought much since waking from the dream, about the church and lady Sizemore, about the familiar priest and the sympathetic plight implied in his step and dimmed blue eyes. I had forgotten much of the dream's stark imagery. Only this impression of the man burying his secrets and his spade daubed in clay remained. I found most curious the cairn's relocation. Lar had not seemed confident imparting the reason for its transfer, that Lady Sizemore was told the house wouldn't stand another winter despite having done so two hundred years; to me, that seemed a spurious motive and something worth inquiry.

Dawnflame pulsed in seductive ruby, splintering to a prism that dazzled in its royal array, from bold scarlet to princely vermilion, and in that sanguine bank we found hopeful portent. Other larks stirred from roadside redoubts to wave passage. Husbandmen mostly, any whose labours were bound to the rueful star's whim. Breaking from the road we made for pasture, cutting due Northwest across the plain. Dawn's jewels, stars of morning which are night's silver sisters, sundered underfoot, brittle things past season returning to aether.

Lar and Fergus scouted ahead, rudely parading superior vigour. They whispered among themselves. Fifty years old the pair of them, they still moved like Herne the hunter through all terrains. Fergus gave credence to the theory empty vessels howl loudest, guffawing at every ribaldry Lar conjured from the sewer he called a brain. With spare breath I might have cursed them, but my fury came a decliate whisper, peeling like nighttime bells; loudly and to no one. I wished barren the bellies of the sows that held them.

Ego as engine, for a furious mile I kept pace, propelled solely by a need for petty victory. Predictably, for those bones had long been cast, I quickly slowed back to a sad trudge, slower than my previous languid pace.

Themselves ramblers taking long walks for leisure, Lar and Fergus waited at each fence feigning to check their watches, teasing with so many rests between arrivals a man might never tire. Gladly I obliged, quipping Aesop's lessons were lost to them. What else had I but meek agreement. Nod and smile, chaste to make a Roman wife blush, icily injecting scorn where possible unnoticed.

At length the naked path yielded to thick woodland more typical of the region. We pushed through the system of unbowed oaks, which cast snake haired shadows where light could penetrate. Further the branches enclosed to a dome, stealing our brave shadows. Little rest we took in the maze's darkest sectors. Badger, fox and mole strode brazen, unfamiliar and unafraid. At the helm, Lar thought himself Alexander in Hanyson, immortal thirst his guiding star. I remembered how ended that tale.

How hard it seemed rising after only a moment stilled. How quickly a hard-earned graceful step replaced by rhythmless clomping. It was not until several minutes treading passed that semblance of form returned, and soon after, the next reluctant stop, the mossy bank where last we halted still visible shortly behind.

For a time there was sun. Golden fire, faint and pale beyond a tattered veil. The aperture seized before our eyes until only A crescent of light remained, the golden torc of Ulaid.

This terse land existed long before man's dominion and would reign unchanged in the wake of our expiry. Here she gave no quarter. Gaia dressed for war in all her plate. All twisted briar and stinging barbs, long tunnels of night giving to treacherous muddy groves where a man might be taken by the bog and the old things therein.

'Where in jezebel's saucehole are we?" I planted myself. Thought I of Ephialtes leading Persians through the pass, cursed by the gods to wear his inner treachery outwardly.

Fergus deferred to Lar's judgement. Solomon-like, Lar waved our wagons halted. He tossed the empty skins to Fergus. 'Fill these' he said, miming drinking.

While the Giant fetched pales Lar prodded the scant briar. 'Say Lar.' He bid me sit upon a raised bank.

'You look like shit.'

'Not so bad yourself' I wheezed. 'Truly do we have to go so fast? Is it so far we can't mosey, even just for a mile? I've done walking but this is hoplite stuff.'

'Deal.' Lar wanted to sit but he didn't. He stood, knees taxed, breath compromised, but he stood. Nothing to prove and still at attention. One could not deny his character.

We watched Fergus' return, arms extended like some horror out of Jotunheim. Wet cloth clung to his forearms like setting plaster, arousing suspicions he had endured some minor aquatic tragedy. My dry mouth prevented inquiry. I snatched the skin and quaffed generously, muttering thanks. Quite unsympathetically, I had to force myself not to ask 'Water we going to do now?' or comment that it was growing colder the further we went up, in fact 'ri-very cold.'

I produced a flask. Cursed with muteness, Fergus could not explain what manner of calamity had befallen him. Louder his teeth clacked. A mirror pool formed about his feet, spreading wider until he stood aft a glass plinth. I offered a lash. The whiskey shot fire through his veins. His eyes bulged as the water of life reignited the dampened kindling of his passions.

Lar, hitherto predisposed with watering of a different sort, emerged fastening his trousers and immediately noted something awry. He lifted his chin an inch, gave us the once over and bounded towards Fergus. He took a clump of wet tweed and squeezed until it wept through his clenched fist. 'Christ. What happened?'

Lar claimed little of Fergus remained. A friendly shade of what once he was. He assured me what others perceived as emotion was mere instinct. Nerves and twitches, mimicked gestures. Still I swore he had recognised his own foolishness at having fallen into the stream. How shyly he stared to his feet, if only for one moment of divine clarity.

Lar was concerned about Fergus' garments. Wet clothes would spell disaster for the burgeoning expedition. I offered my scarf. Lar followed suit. Like a freed condemned, he slipped the coarse rag from around his own neck. Flattened parallel, they formed a hugging shawl around his sodden shoulders. Gently, by degrees, we warmed Fergus. He took another swig from the flask. In his gargantuan hands, fingers like rolling pins splayed across its scratched surface, the flask appeared little more than a doll's trinket.

Upon imbibing the second drop, revelling its minor anaesthetic quality, his cheeks flashed pink, rouge to blush a whore. When great cities crumbled and ancient wisdoms were lost, when mankind regressed to a baser form, bestial and philistine, beloved of ignorance, the denizens of ancient Ireland had brewed this potent potable, and on its warmth resisted the great debasement. Fire exhumed ice in his veins. The fire of life; the fire of the elixir I had given him, which of old the anointed ones consumed seeking arcane knowledge, devolving their mind to its primal state, therein discovering secrets lost to time.

Ahead the vanguard, Lar spied him first. A shambling form moving quick through the trees. With a limp wave he halted us. Behind we mimed his stoop. On haunches he held the order with a trembling hand, for which we never blamed him. Everyone had reached the same conclusion; the beast was upon us. We had wished without proper consideration. Now our twisted desire was made flesh. From the underworld the beast reeking of acrid smoke had clawed, toxic miasma from the foundries of hell in heady tendrils about its paws.

Gradually the amorphous form revealed contours most corporeal; those of an older man, sweeping towards us at a markedly unsupernatural pace. He moved furtively, shoulders raised to his ears protectively, eyes deep set and impatient. Closer he came until he stood before us on the crest of a mossy embankment. He stood still for address, unsure if we were brigands, bounty hunters or worse. He cast a long glance over each of us in turn, tracing our brows, testing the mettle behind our eyes, down the chest to the navel, to our stained feet and upward again. He shoved a letter into his pocket and I saw on his ringfinger he wore an enormous golden signet, though I could not discern any detail in the dimness.

With his green gillet stained polkadot and wild sideburns adjoining beard and hair, he appeared more victorian eccentric than hiker. I soon learned that his name was Dalliard, a local with roots deeper than those from which his wiry gruaig sprang, a mad albino nest atop his wisened head. He spoke with a thick lilt, a strange medley of gaelic and slang, almost saxon sounding if I didn't know the name Dalliard wasn't Northon. He was assuredly a kill-your-son-and-live-with-your-wife-in silence-for-twenty-years-over-the-lend-of-a-spade type.

Beneath his snowy bristles lay zit red cheeks. I imagined his mouth when it moved as a bubbling postule, his tongue glorious pus emerging like a curious worm's head. As he elbowed past I caught his eye, or rather disturbed him rudely staring. Next I wondered whether the creases on his brow were newly formed, ever present or mere projections of my exhausted, possibly delirious state. No, unmistakably this Dalliard recognised me. Something he saw worried him. Probably some pervert up to no good in the old churchyard, worried we would stumble upon his vile derelictions. Perhaps some looter of antiquities, wondering if I'm here for the same. All this passed in a moment, soon he was long passed and speaking overshoulder.

'Up ahead' he panted, mopping his brow with an overworked handkerchief, 'it levels out. Push on. No more'n a mile. If the kirkyard is left, you've got it. If it steepens again, ye've strayed.'

'The light fades quick. Careful on your way. Don't dally.' Lar called after sardonically.

Emboldened by closeness we came on fast to devour the remaining track, leaping from ledge to mossy shelf with educated precision like trained fleas. How quickly one became accustomed to difficulty; it was not hard to see how we proliferated across every inch of the globe, until even the secret and sacred places of the world were sullied by our refuse; their tranquility strangled by our inanities. Without fire to christen me, mine had been a baptism by stone. Keeping in pace, I turned to Lar and Fergus. 'Know that Dalliard chap well, do you?'

'We don't send cards at Christmas. Lives on the other side of the valley. Different schools, different everything, same parish. Posh eccentric sort. Had some affiliations with the good lady. Why? I'm sure he'd love to take a lovely lass like you for a stew any evening of the year.' Lar bellowed.

'No, it's nothing. Curious

is all. Seemed a bit sketchy to me. Is he all there?'

'Oh yes, quite. Seemed sensible the few times we chanced to meet. Put it from your mind. We're almost there. I've thought of a question all of my own, fancy that, what's your name?'

'Aha.' I smiled. 'I thought you'd never ask.'

'Thought you'd never tell.' Lar smiled, for once unteasingly.

'It's Bastable.' I answered with surprising pride.

'What Bastable?' Lar asked.

'Mr. Bastable will suffice, thank you.'

#Folk horror #Folklore #Myths and legends #Horror #Horror writers #Horror writers of Tumblr #Writeblr #My words #WIP #Writing goals #Plot #Dialogue #Prose #Amwriting #Spilled ink #Writers of Tumblr #Irish writers #Writers of ireland

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fiftytwobadstories · 6 years ago

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33 - He Didn’t Tell Us What We Were Digging For

Work didn’t come easy anymore. Our town was filled will good hard working men that had been out of the job since the mines closed down some years ago. If you were lucky, you could get a job bagging cans at the supermarket two towns over, but there was always some teenager more capable of putting up with abuse than us old codgers. There didn’t seem to be anything left for us besides the soot in our lungs. But the world doesn’t stop when you lose your job. Times marches on and wears you down like the roof you can no longer afford to fix.

I spent most of my days at the Employment Centre. When I first started going there, I was constantly searching through newspapers and checking job postings, but after a while I just stopped looking. What was the point? These days, I would just sit quietly at a table there with a stack of week old papers in the centre of it along with a bunch of other sorry saps that I had used to work with—all gathering dust. I would say that I had given up hope, but I was sure pretty that my hope had been left behind at the bottom of a mine many years ago.

The other guys and I didn’t talk much any more. Back when we were working, you could always hear our laughter echoing up and down the tunnels, but now the only sound we shared between us was of our despondent feet tapping on the linoleum floor of that beige lifeless room. Every now and then, one of us would break the silence and ask how the wife doing or what the score was of last night’s game, but the responses were usually kept to as little syllables as possible. Nobody ever asked how the job hunt was going, because we already knew the answer.

To be honest, I wasn’t sure why I kept coming back there. The Employment Centre was such a sad place and it clearly wasn’t helping me find a job, but somehow it felt better than staying at home just staring out the window at this grey-painted town. Hell, some days even getting out of bed felt like a small victory in its own. At least being here made it feel as though I wasn’t a total failure. These guys were all going through the same pain that I was and we all shared a certain silent understanding of one another.

It was on one Monday morning when I walked into the Employment Centre, I could tell that there was something going on. There was a murmur in the air and all the chairs around the table were empty. I found all the guys standing around the bulletin board where a sign had been tacked up that read “HELP WANTED.” I nearly dropped my paper coffeecup out of my hand when I saw it. The sign read that a team of men was needed for a digging project and there was a number to call for more information. A saw smiles on the faces of the guys for the first time in a very long time. It was a sign from God.

I called the number from the phone at the front desk. A man answered and he sounded relieved to hear from us. He didn’t exactly provide us with that much information; only that he needed a hole to be dug for him and that he would meet us tomorrow morning in the Highlands to show us the spot. After hanging up the phone, I realized that I had forgotten to ask about payment, but honestly I was just so excited to be doing something with myself again. It was reason enough to live another day and I could now see small of sliver of light on the horizon.

The next morning a dawn, we all crammed into the same van and—after a quick stop for coffee at the drive-thru—we set out on the road to the Highlands. It felt good to be in my coveralls again and I was practically shaking in my seat from the excitement. We pulled up to a field far off from the road and had to walk a bit to find where the Man was waiting for us. His dark eyes were sunken in and his pale skin hung loose off his face. I asked him if there would be any payment for the work and his eyes brightened.

“Of course, everyone will get what they deserve.”

There was already a small hole in the earth where the man must have started digging himself. It looked as though he had been digging with own his fingers, but he didn’t get too far thanks to his fading physique. The guys and I started digging. We weren’t quite sure how deep we were supposed to dig, but he told us that we would know it when we saw it. I assumed that we were digging a well, but then again, why would he need this many people to dig just one well? And there weren’t any houses nearby anywhere that I could see. Though, it wasn’t my job to ask questions—it was my job to dig.

As we dug away, it wasn’t long before the guys and I were laughing again. The Man watched on eagerly and without saying a word. The hole ended up being rather wide to fit the five of us, but the Man didn’t seem to mind—as long as it was deep enough. We found ourselves a good rhythm and was starting to feel just like old times. We got somewhat carried away and we realized that the opening of the hole was already far above our heads. The Man said that it wasn’t yet deep enough, but that he would lower us a rope when we were done. I wasn’t sure that I had seen him with a rope.

We kept digging until we could no longer see the sun above our heads. Even when we reached the bedrock, he told us to keep on digging. We started to see what looked like white roots sticking out from the rock as we dug deep, only to realize that they were bones. Thinking that we must had stumbled upon some dinosaur fossils, we got pretty excited, but that excitement faded when we found a human skull. I yelled up to the Man about what we had found, but only said that we were almost there.

I felt my pickaxe reach something soft and we stopped digging. Up above, it sounded like the Man was singing, but we couldn’t make out the words. I brushed aside the loose stones and felt a smooth rounded surface with a line of long dark strands that curved outward—was this an eye? It was massive. The eye alone was bigger than my head. The Man’s singing grew louder. I knelt down and ran my fingertips over the skin and to my horror: it was warm. The eye fluttered open and looked around before its gaze landed upon me. I fell backwards with a scream and the pupil narrowed. The Man kept singing.

The ground began to rumble and split around us. We screamed desperately at The Man to lower a rope, but he ignored us. I scrambled to my feet and began clawing at the wall of the hole, but I wasn’t able to climb very high. The Thing below was starting to move and the Highlands were splitting apart. The ground opened up as its mouth widened and let out a shattering roar. My ears started ringing and my fingers slipped. The Thing started to rise as the ground swallowed us. It would consume the surface as we were forever trapped below.

#writers on tumblr #lit #long reads #prose #short story #short stories #literature #creative writing #writing #writers #writer #spilled ink #spilled words

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petri808 · 6 years ago

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Oh, For the Love Of!

@kamihaji-week August 13- Ship Day

“Mikage?” Nanami finds the Land God sitting in the parlor relaxing with a book. “What is all the racket going on outside?”

“I believe it is Tomoe, Mizuki, and Kirihito discussing something heatedly.”

With fists clenched at her sides, “Eh! What are they fighting about now?!” The young woman is ready to storm out there and given them all hell.

“Oh, if I had to guess it has something to do with you my dear,” he smiles and finally looks up from his book. “You are what those boys usually fight over.”

“Kami, I can’t even think of what it could be over right now.”

“It is the age-old question that haunts many a young man, Nanami chan. I would leave them be if I were you.”

“Age-old question?” Exhale, “never mind,” shaking her head, “I can’t do that, they might scare away patrons. I’ll go tell them to stop or take it elsewhere.”

After Mikage wishes her luck and returns to his reading, Nanami stalks her way out to the front porch. She was sort of used to Tomoe and Mizuki bickering constantly for her attention but now Kirihito too? Ugh, ever since they had saved him from Izanami in the Underworld he’s been popping up unexpectedly and she had no idea why. They weren’t friends for starters, Tomoe was starting to suspect who he truly was, but simply disliked the guy ever since he found out he had tried to kiss her. But this was the first time he had shown up at the temple. ‘Was he trying to sneak in and got caught? Maybe that’s what the argument was about?’

The shouting grows louder the closer she gets to the door, yes, this needs to be stopped now for she could clearly hear the voices of Tomoe, Mizuki, and Kirihito, ‘Kurama too?’

Sliding the door open with a harsh slam, Nanami launches into a tirade of her own, pumping her fists at them. “Are you trying to scare people away?! What are you guys all fighting about now?!”

The three men freeze in mid fight mode, Tomoe with his hands blazing of fox fire, Mizuki suspending a stream of water from the nearby purification basin that quickly disintegrates when he hears Nanami screaming, and Kirihito with a simple tanto dagger clasped in his hand. Kurama who appears to have been trying to break it up also pauses and they all turn to look at her. He is the first to back off as she storms her way over.

“Kirihito what are you doing here?! Tomoe, Mizuki, you two really need to stop being at each other’s throats!”

“He started it!” They all point at each other

“I don’t care who started it! Just stop it!”

She is so furious, that even when Kurama walks over to her she is poised to strike. He puts his hands up, “Nanami chan, you can quickly settle this fight, all they want to know is which of them do you prefer.”

“Eh?” She turns and looks at the three men. “Tomoe and Mizuki fight for my attention, but Kirihito too?”

“Apparently so.”

But Kirihito steps up first, “I do not have any feelings of the sort for you.”

“Liar!” Tomoe and Mizuki cry out. The fox yokai lighting his hand on fire again, “if that’s the case why they hell do you keep showing up wherever Nanami is? You must be following her!”

“It is true,” the dark-haired man responds without emotion, “but I simply find her intriguing.”

Now it’s Mizuki who counters, “I don’t believe you either, you’ve tried to kiss her once, and succeeded a second time…”

Nanami stiffens, “how did you find out about that Mizuki, I-I never told anyone that part.”

“You did what!” Tomoe roars and takes a swipe at the man, “you bastard!” Kurama and Mizuki grabbing his arms to hold him back.

“You should just leave Kirihito,” Kurama advises, “Just get out of here and don’t come back.”

“Tch,” he grins and puts his blade away, “Just remember, you can’t watch her all the time!” then disappears down the hill.

Kurama exhales and let’s go of Tomoe along with Mizuki, “that’s one down. He gives me the creeps too, Nanami chan, you sure know how to attract them.”

Startled, her whole body flushes at the insinuation, it’s not like she tries to gain anyone’s attentions, most of the time they seem to just gravitate to her or wants something from her and it’s frustrating. At one point she had lumped Kurama into that pile but lately his attentions have changed.

With the girl a bit flustered now, “Nanami chan,” Mizuki takes the opportunity to get closer to her, “will you just tell Tomoe you like me better, so he’ll leave me alone.”

But Tomoe pulls her away from the graspy little snake, “Don’t touch her!” he growls, ears pinned back, “you’re just as bad as Kirihito! First you trick her into the marriage binding then kissed Nanami when she was unconscious to force the familiar spell! She’s just too nice to kick you out of here!”

Mizuki crosses his arms and huffs, “that is because I do love her…”

“You had barely known her! You are just a sad, lonely, pathetic, irritating little snake!”

“Tomoe, you don’t have to pick on him either!” Nanami pulls out of his grap, but when Mizuki tries to grab her arm instead she steps away from them both. “You two are both aggravating.”

Kurama who stood back during the latest fireworks, “Nanami, do you prefer Tomoe or Mizuki, if you just tell them it may stop the fighting.”

“I doubt it,” she rolls her eyes.

“No…” Mizuki cries out

“…Tell us the answer!” Tomoe finishes the retort and the two men look at her expectantly.

“I-I…” she puts up her hands, her face is heating up and red blotches are popping up on her cheeks, “t-this is not fair to make me say it!”

“So, you do like one of them, don’t you, Nanami chan?” Kurama teases the girl, “it’s pretty obvious to me, I mean I see it all the time being surrounded by adoring fans.” He holds both her arms gently, forcing her to face them. “Look at the poor saps, they deserve to know how you feel.”

“But,” head dropping, “I don’t want to hurt one of their feelings…”

“It’s me!” Tomoe points at Mizuki, pushing his finger into the man’s chest.

“No way, Nanami chan likes me better!” returning the gesture.

“You are dreaming snake boy, Nanami likes me more than you!”

“I don’t think so, you perverted kitsune!”

Tomoe grabs Mizuki’s yukata, “who you callin’ a pervert!”

“Okay, how about drunkard!”

“Why you little! Nanami… Eh,” Tomoe look to where she was just standing, “where did Nanami and Kurama go?”

“See you scared her off!” Mizuki pushes away, huffing and running off to search for them. “Nanami chan?!”

From a distance, high in the sky, but where they can still watch the two guys as they searched the shrine grounds, Kurama had whisked them away by her request. “You know, eventually you should just tell Tomoe you love him.”

“I will,” she exhales, “but when I’m ready.”

He laughs, “this is why I don’t want to fall in love, it’s so much work!”

“Oh please, I know you are Ami are getting closer too!”

“I am n… Fine, then let’s just keep these secrets between us.”

“Deal.”

#khw2018 #kamihaji week Ship day #tomoe and nanami #of for the love of!#petri808 #short fic

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beaubcxton · 6 years ago

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‘And that’s your cue.’ ( Jily )

An au where you try out for auditions and you’re really scared but then this cute guy calms you down and then what?

A/N: Here’s the au that no one asked for. @youreyesinstarsabove this is for you. There’s hardly any fluff here but if you wait, you shall see. (is that vague enough?) I wrote this in a few hours so dont judge me xxxx

Lily Evans has not been living her dream. Neither her vision of what constituted a dream and what not. For starters, she still lived with her friend, Marlene and she was reminded of this fact every weekend at night. And there’s the issue with her job. Life would like to say it bit her in the ass when she found out she was working for Severus Snape- the creep who stalked her when they were children. She had taken the job, still because money? In this economy was a rarity.

Life had kicked and laughed at her but she raised a finger- it was her favorite one-, dusted her skirt and strode away. You could say, she was holding life by the balls when she took matters into her own hands.

After her parents died, she had spent hours wondering what to do with the money they left for her.

Petunia had shown up for the funeral and sniffed when she caught sight of Lily’s clothing or rather lack of mourning clothes.

“A shame, Lily. What would our parents say?”

“I think-“ Lily bit out, furious that even the matter of mourning was a competition to her sister. “-that they would be rather happy that I haven’t got a stick in my ass.”

True to her nature, Petunia had balked at her in disgust and swept away, adamant not to be seen involved with her freak of a sister.

She could almost hear the hearty laugh of her father. And suddenly, she knew what she had to do.

So here she was, dressed in a lousy blouse and tight jeans, in a hall where the auditions for a French play’s cast were being held. Only the residue of courage lingered in her as the prospect of what she was about to face wore her. She fans her face- why was it so bloody hot?

“Jenna Mackenly.”

The name sends another jolt to her and she shuts her eyes so she doesn’t have to see her clammed up hands and her shivering legs.

“Hey.”

Jumping, she takes a glance at the man next to her and immediately freezes. Sure, its bloody dark and she can barely see him but to the gods, if he wasn’t fit as hell. Brown eyes blinked at her and his jaw- one that could melt hafnium ( sue her, she’s a nerd)- tilts. He’s holding a plate of French fries and offers them to her which she declines.

“You nervous?”

She nods.

He takes her silence in stride. Perhaps, he’s used to girls fawning over him and being shitting messes. “You don’t need to worry much. Just look at that- he points to a light behind him- and sing. The judges are a bunch of cranky wankers-“ She huffs a laugh here because they indeed were; Several of them looked almost bored as the poor girl sang shrilly- “so don’t bother looking at them, yeah?”

The advice takes a moment to settle in but once it does, she murmurs out a soft thank you.

“Ah.” His eyes lit up and their close proximity enables her to see the flecks of gold swimming in them. “She speaks.”

“She is Lily Evans.”

“And he is James Potter. Not the judge, I meant me. Ugh, I am so not cool.”

She lets out a giggle. “It’s alright. I’m used to boys being stuttering messes around me.”

Laughter erupts from him and the girl on stage pauses briefly before continuing. “Says the girl who was in awe of me just a few seconds ago.”

“Excuse me if I didn’t know what to say to a stranger.”

He smiles like a wolf. “Well, I’m not a stranger anymore, am I?”

And then, like the wanker he is, he shifts as if he knows she going to gulp when she sees his muscles flex. Chuckling, he deems that the act of teasing her would not go well in his favor and asks, “What are you doing here?”

She cocks an eyebrow at him. “I’m going to sing.”

A blush stains his cheek. “I know that. I meant, why are you here?”

Despite the flow of ridiculous questions, she says, “I always wanted to be a singer. There’s something beautiful about the way you can control your voice and direct it to flow, you know? Music, it’s a piece of art that goes in the ears and straight to your heart, clanging through your blood as it does so. Everyone’s born with a song and ahh, it’s a channel to release your anxiety.”

He hums. “Have you thought of becoming a writer too?”

Again, he offers her the plate. She picks one fry and chews it. “Did you know French fries have actually no French origin?”

Surprised, she says, “I do.” And like the sap she is, she blushes. Quickly getting back on topic: “I work for a magazine, actually.”

“Which one?”

“Echos.”

James immediately recoils. “You work for Snape?”

“Yeah.”

“Ughhh. And here, I thought you were a decent bird.”

She should have rebuked him. She really should have. That’s what a decent employee would do but she hated Snape as much, if not more than he did. It's not unexpected that the public detests Snape. When Severus was a journalist, several protests were his doing as his articles were usually along the lines of ‘NO place for immigrants.’ ‘The possibilities if the blacks are once again oppressed.’ It hurt Lily’s conscience that she had to work for a man like him but her bank account needed it.

Lily shoves him by the shoulder. “Oh shut up. Not all of us are rich, Mr. Posh.”

“Mr. Posh?” He barks a laugh. “That’s a new one.”

“Shush. It’s because of that perfume you’re wearing.” She remarks, rather reluctantly. His odor was rather intoxicating. It was a mixture of ink and cookies but she interrupted when she saw his mouth form an arrogant grin. “What do you work as?”

“Lily Evans.”

Fudge.

James pushes her a little. “You can do this.”

She can do it. She was Lily Evans according to her birth certificate, not Quitter Evans so, hands sweating alongside wobbly knees, she glided through the silence and assumed her position on stage.

“What song are you going to sing for us?’

“Greek Tragedy by the Wombats.”

One of the judges blinked at her and yawned. “Well, go ahead.”

Wanker.

Stand tall, her mother used to say. Chest open, head back, relax and let your voice flow.

So she sang. The stumbling croak soon dissolved into what she hoped was the lull of a nightingale. She closed her eyes when the judges started talking to one another. She kept singing, reminded herself of a time when Petunia and her ran down to breakfast as soon as the scent of maple danced in the air. She thought of the time when she had didn’t give a damn about money and did things because she liked it. And she lingered on James, the man she’d just met who gave her the confidence to find her voice.

“That’s enough.”

Her eyes flew open and she stumbled a little.

“That was great.”

Snapping her head towards the familiar voice, her jaw almost drops.

Of course, of bloody course, James had to be a judge. Internally groaning, she mutters out thanks and stalks off stage.

He catches up with her when she’s about to leave.

“Alright, Evans?”

She offers him a reproachful eye. “I suppose it was too difficult to tell me you were a judge.”

He laughs. “Is that what got your knickers in a twist?”

Scowling, she flushes. “People probably think I was trying to.....seduce you.”

A beat of silence and then he doubles over laughing. In the light, she can fully appreciate his features. He’s better than fit. Too damn tall but his wavy and messy jet black hair make up for it. And, he’s wearing a carry on shirt. The universe hates her, she’s sure.

“Seduce?” He chokes out, finally.

Waving a hand to brush the matter away, she says as a matter of fact, “We all know I'm irresistible.”

Fondness coats his features. “That you are. I doubt you’d like to go out on a date with me, now?”

Cursing whoever bothered to add logic in her vessel, she declines the offer halfheartedly.

James takes the rejection in stride. Kissing her palm, he purrs, “Until next time?”

He smirks as she nods faintly.

LilyEvans to MarlMc: bring ice cream.

MarlMc: bring it urself

LilyEvans: not fair. I just rejected a hot guy.

MarlMc: strawberry or vanilla?

LilyEvans: chocolate.

MarlMc: that’s not an option

Also youre a dolt.

LilyEvans: it is now.

I know.

Marlene does not bring chocolate ice cream.

It truly is a sin but nonetheless, a sad Lily needs her ice cream so she sticks her spoon in the salted caramel ice cream. (“It’s a new flavor,” Marlene explained.) (“I was going to get a new flavor.”) (“Stop objectifying the bloke, you sap.”) (“I am not, you cynic.”)

They share ice cream that night and the following one. Marlene calling Lily a dolt after each spoon.

“You’re going to get in.”

“I sang like a crow, Marls.”

“You’ll still get in.”

“I won't. And I don’t care, either.”

Marlene made a hmph sound but if the outcome was a failure, Lily wasn’t going to wallow in her misery. She had learned something as she poured her heart out on that stage. Sometimes, you’ve gotta do things for fun even if you suck at it. Keep trying until you can proudly say, “I lowkey don’t suck.

Someday, she’d sing in front of people who wanted to listen to her instead of three old men and one fit bloke. Someday.

And when the call came a few days later and some ass said, “You didn’t make the cut, sweetheart” and hung up, she was stung but she shrugged it off and posted a cover of her song on youtube.

LilyEvans to MarlMc: im going out

MarlMc: u???

On a weekend?

Instead of reading??

Who are you??

LilyEvans: shut up

I have a boy to find

who’s a cute nerd

MarlMc: ashkashdihsndlksa

“Thank you.” She held the plate of fries in her hand, silently asking herself what the frick she was doing.

Taking a deep breath, she entered the auditorium and looked around. Unlike last time, it was James that made her uneasy and not the stifling heat. His mop of hair was not to be found in the seats and the realization brought a pang to her chest.

“Looking for me?”

Spinning around, she’s faced with a very very close James.

“James.” She breathes.

“Lily.” He responds, quirking an eyebrow. “Sorry that you didn’t get the part.”

She swallows. “It's okay. I got you some ah, fries.”

He takes the plate from her and inspects the chips, thoughtfully. So much for romantic gestures.

“What-“

“Wanna go out with me?”

“Sure. You have my number?”

A frown tugs at her lips. “Wait, what?”

“Do you have my number?” He repeats, rather slowly, grinning at her confusion.

“You’re saying yes?”

He mocks a sigh. “Not a bright one, are you Lily?”

“What? I’ll have you know I got a degree in politics and-“

Laughing, he gently pulls her outside and scribbles his number on her arm, his touch sending goosebumps through her blood.

“Call me?” He imitates a phone and she lets out a laugh

Brimming with euphoria, she says, “I’ll do more if you’d like.”

And then, he kisses her.

Maybe the universe didn’t hate her after all, She’ll think months later as she rubs her belly and replies to comments on her youtube channel.

“Hey, Lils?”

“Yeah?”

“They increased Snivellus’s jail time.”

Its bad of her to laugh but she still does.

“Did you call the guy to fix the bed?”

Her boyfriend huffs and kisses her on the cheek. “I’ll do it myself. I’m James.”

“Exactly why I’m asking.”

Huffing, he turns but she tugs him back.

This time, she kisses him.

#mine #jily fanfiction #james potter #lily evans #harry potter #jily #melina is awesome

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