50% fluffy shipping, 50% batshit insanity (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
whentheymeme) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
bakerstreet2017-10-31 07:51 pm
whentheymeme) wrote in bakerstreet2017-10-31 07:51 pm
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would you be interested in doing a thing? I'm two episodes behind but I will be catching up quickly and I'm sure it'll be easy enough to avoid spoilers.
[For a brief moment, Cu is just at a loss for words. His usual demeanor towards this sort of situation would have been to crack jokes about how someone who, wielding two lances at the same time, could ever take such a strong hit to the arm like that. But there's not a lick of amusement in his eyes as he starts dressing his bicep in a linen bandage. He'll heal up- he almost always does, but the doggedness inside the blue haired lancer is nearly having him foam from the mouth.
How nice it would be to find the Saber that did this to him, to watch her smug features drain away, Gáe Bolg's curse writhing through her veins and sucking the life force out of her very existence. And it's hard to pinpoint where this rage comes from, whether it's because Diarmuid was stupid enough to get hit like this, or the fact that the sword wielder was agile enough to get a scratch on him.
He remembers to breathe, not that he has to, of course- it's more of a metaphysical calming motion as he takes Diarmuid's arm carefully and wraps the material around him. Cu is no combat medic, but he makes the binding tight enough against him so that it closes the wound. He goes to open his mouth and tell the other lancer that he ought to take mana away from his Master, but the words don't come out. This is what Servants do, right? Engage sexually and restore.
For a moment, he forgets who he is, his position in this war, and leans down to splay a soft kiss against the wrapping.]
Where is she?
How nice it would be to find the Saber that did this to him, to watch her smug features drain away, Gáe Bolg's curse writhing through her veins and sucking the life force out of her very existence. And it's hard to pinpoint where this rage comes from, whether it's because Diarmuid was stupid enough to get hit like this, or the fact that the sword wielder was agile enough to get a scratch on him.
He remembers to breathe, not that he has to, of course- it's more of a metaphysical calming motion as he takes Diarmuid's arm carefully and wraps the material around him. Cu is no combat medic, but he makes the binding tight enough against him so that it closes the wound. He goes to open his mouth and tell the other lancer that he ought to take mana away from his Master, but the words don't come out. This is what Servants do, right? Engage sexually and restore.
For a moment, he forgets who he is, his position in this war, and leans down to splay a soft kiss against the wrapping.]
Where is she?
do you have any preferences for roles or activity?
| | [Going with a mundane and modern AU of this character at, say, 20 years old... Perhaps a little of Gentle Giant and Unwilling? Maka being a petite and sweet-seeming half-Asian who is a secret badass fighter from a family of moral/karma driven assassins?] |
I'm cool with combining those two if you want, and I'll probably combine activities because I'm known for doing that. I'll try get up a starter when I get to work.
Edit: okay. I don't have time before work, if you wanna make a start please feel free, otherwise I'll get you something up on my break 😊
Edit: okay. I don't have time before work, if you wanna make a start please feel free, otherwise I'll get you something up on my break 😊
Edited 2017-11-02 00:57 (UTC)
tw: gunna put a suicide tw here just in case even though it's super brief
tenkillrecord
2017-11-02 05:42 am (UTC)(link)
I went with a combination of massage and lap rests, so basically wild card
They made the most of things because what else was there to do? The world had gone to shit, they had both the living and the dead to fear and moments of calm were few and far between and often interrupted. Somehow, hot-head sniper Chuck Hansen had found comfort and an easiness in one Paul "Jesus" Rovia and honestly, there was a good chance that he was the only thing keeping the younger Hansen from going stir crazy or blowing his own brains out just to escape this hell.
They'd grown close and Chuck was more than interested but he had no idea how to instigate anything and had no intention of ruining the only good relationship he'd managed to form. However, it didn't stop him from being tactile to the point of almost affectionate.
It was a night where neither of them had watch that Chuck came up behind Jesus, slipping both hands over the other man's shoulders and squeezing, easing into a massage against the tense muscles between his hands.
"Whatcha doin'?"
They made the most of things because what else was there to do? The world had gone to shit, they had both the living and the dead to fear and moments of calm were few and far between and often interrupted. Somehow, hot-head sniper Chuck Hansen had found comfort and an easiness in one Paul "Jesus" Rovia and honestly, there was a good chance that he was the only thing keeping the younger Hansen from going stir crazy or blowing his own brains out just to escape this hell.
They'd grown close and Chuck was more than interested but he had no idea how to instigate anything and had no intention of ruining the only good relationship he'd managed to form. However, it didn't stop him from being tactile to the point of almost affectionate.
It was a night where neither of them had watch that Chuck came up behind Jesus, slipping both hands over the other man's shoulders and squeezing, easing into a massage against the tense muscles between his hands.
"Whatcha doin'?"
( apologies for the delay! i was at work. )
There was a time when Jesus preferred to be alone. The world was still a heavy weight on his shoulders, grim in even the brightest of spaces, but he only really had to look out for himself. It felt easier, sure, but it didn't feel good. Settling into the Hilltop Colony wasn't hard in the slightest, his natural leaning towards friendliness more of an asset than not. And then Chuck Hansen came along, sweeping aside any trouble he'd had with connecting with people before. Go figure.
But then, Chuck Hansen isn't just anyone, reckless and sarcastic as he is. There's a heart of gold nestled under the bravado.
It says a lot that Jesus doesn't startle when he feels those familiar hands on his shoulders, instead leaning back to tip a look at Chuck. It's quiet moments like these that pull the rest of the world into perspective. With a quick smile, he wets his lips, ducking his head soon after.
"Just winding down. Staying out of trouble?" It's nothing more than a gentle tease, punctuated by the way he reaches up and gives one of Chuck's hands a light squeeze, glad for the contact.
There was a time when Jesus preferred to be alone. The world was still a heavy weight on his shoulders, grim in even the brightest of spaces, but he only really had to look out for himself. It felt easier, sure, but it didn't feel good. Settling into the Hilltop Colony wasn't hard in the slightest, his natural leaning towards friendliness more of an asset than not. And then Chuck Hansen came along, sweeping aside any trouble he'd had with connecting with people before. Go figure.
But then, Chuck Hansen isn't just anyone, reckless and sarcastic as he is. There's a heart of gold nestled under the bravado.
It says a lot that Jesus doesn't startle when he feels those familiar hands on his shoulders, instead leaning back to tip a look at Chuck. It's quiet moments like these that pull the rest of the world into perspective. With a quick smile, he wets his lips, ducking his head soon after.
"Just winding down. Staying out of trouble?" It's nothing more than a gentle tease, punctuated by the way he reaches up and gives one of Chuck's hands a light squeeze, glad for the contact.
all good. I just finished myself
"What? You worried I'm causing fights again, mate?" It wouldn't be the first time and he was sure it also wouldn't be the last. At the very least, it was undeniable that Chuck and his old man would have a good crack at each other no matter who was around. Almost anyone who was there to witness it, bailed as quickly as they could once the Hansens started in on each other.
After a moment, Chuck snorts, face morphing into a smirk as he starts kneading properly at Jesus' shoulders. "Gotta be a good boy when the Messiah is keeping an eye on me, yeah?"
"What? You worried I'm causing fights again, mate?" It wouldn't be the first time and he was sure it also wouldn't be the last. At the very least, it was undeniable that Chuck and his old man would have a good crack at each other no matter who was around. Almost anyone who was there to witness it, bailed as quickly as they could once the Hansens started in on each other.
After a moment, Chuck snorts, face morphing into a smirk as he starts kneading properly at Jesus' shoulders. "Gotta be a good boy when the Messiah is keeping an eye on me, yeah?"
Really, Jesus is sure he would know if Chuck and Herc were fighting again. News travels fast, after all, and people always seem to end up talking about Chuck with him. He doesn't mind, though. Well, so long as everything sorts itself out with time, as much of a luxury as that's become. Little things tend to matter that much more, now.
It would be ridiculous to attempt to resist easing back into Chuck's hands, and so Jesus gives in, letting out a breathy laugh at the tease.
"Far be it for me to tell you to behave yourself." And then he's drawing in a breath, letting his eyes slip closed. "Anyone ever tell you that you have magic hands?"
It would be ridiculous to attempt to resist easing back into Chuck's hands, and so Jesus gives in, letting out a breathy laugh at the tease.
"Far be it for me to tell you to behave yourself." And then he's drawing in a breath, letting his eyes slip closed. "Anyone ever tell you that you have magic hands?"
"Bet the others would tell you otherwise." Probably because they knew Chuck would actually listen to Jesus. Mostly.
Snorting again, Chuck leans over to stare down at Paul's face, hands never ceasing in working out kinks and tension along his shoulders.
"Can't say they have, mate." It goes unsaid that it's because Chuck has never let anyone close enough in to be able to form the kind of bond that they have and therefore he's lacked the physical contact with people. Which definitely explains why Chuck acts so touch starved whenever they do have a quiet moment alone to just relax. "Maybe I shoulda taken this path instead of the military."
Snorting again, Chuck leans over to stare down at Paul's face, hands never ceasing in working out kinks and tension along his shoulders.
"Can't say they have, mate." It goes unsaid that it's because Chuck has never let anyone close enough in to be able to form the kind of bond that they have and therefore he's lacked the physical contact with people. Which definitely explains why Chuck acts so touch starved whenever they do have a quiet moment alone to just relax. "Maybe I shoulda taken this path instead of the military."
"Maybe they already do." It's said with a very slight shrug of his shoulders. Jesus isn't looking to discourage Chuck from continuing just yet. "All I ask is that you're happy and safe. I know one is a little more attainable than the other."
But he opens his eyes again, flicks his gaze up to catch Chuck's. There are a lot of things he's tempted to ask, but most of them he's unsure of. They might lose moments like these if he chases the wrong rabbit down the wrong hole. Judging from how often he comes up in his conversations with other people, he's sure it's painfully obvious he's at least a little smitten with Chuck.
"It'd certainly be safer if you had, but I think all the sitting around might have driven you crazy." Not that he's complaining, not with Chuck's hands working away the day's tension. With a low noise, content and pleased, he shakes his head. "Thank you, by the way. I didn't realize how tense I was."
But he opens his eyes again, flicks his gaze up to catch Chuck's. There are a lot of things he's tempted to ask, but most of them he's unsure of. They might lose moments like these if he chases the wrong rabbit down the wrong hole. Judging from how often he comes up in his conversations with other people, he's sure it's painfully obvious he's at least a little smitten with Chuck.
"It'd certainly be safer if you had, but I think all the sitting around might have driven you crazy." Not that he's complaining, not with Chuck's hands working away the day's tension. With a low noise, content and pleased, he shakes his head. "Thank you, by the way. I didn't realize how tense I was."
"Wouldn't surprise me." His smirk softens into something that only Jesus and Judith ever see. "I am happy. And with you at my back, I'm as safe as anyone can be." There we're always risks in this new world and more care had to be taken now more than ever, but they made a good team and they looked out for each other.
Holding Paul'a gaze, Chuck offers enough of a smile that a dimple makes and appearance and his hands still for the briefest moment so that they're just resting, thumb brushing through the hairs at the nape of his neck. He's always careful not to catch his fingers in the long locks when he does this, but sometimes there's the temptation to run his fingers through them that he just has to fight lest he cross a line. When he realised he's been still for several minutes, he starts up again, moving his hands lower to loosen off the rest of the muscles.
"Mate, half the time I feel like I'm going crazy here and we live in a world where dead people wanna eat you and the live ones wanna beat ya fucking brains in." Sometimes Jesus really was the only thing keeping him sane. If the Hansens had never found Hilltop, Chuck's sure one of them would've killed the other.
"Don't mention it. You carry yourself differently after a hard day." It wasn't weird that he knew that, right? Chuck had been a sniper, seeing was what he did. Or at least that's what he told himself.
Holding Paul'a gaze, Chuck offers enough of a smile that a dimple makes and appearance and his hands still for the briefest moment so that they're just resting, thumb brushing through the hairs at the nape of his neck. He's always careful not to catch his fingers in the long locks when he does this, but sometimes there's the temptation to run his fingers through them that he just has to fight lest he cross a line. When he realised he's been still for several minutes, he starts up again, moving his hands lower to loosen off the rest of the muscles.
"Mate, half the time I feel like I'm going crazy here and we live in a world where dead people wanna eat you and the live ones wanna beat ya fucking brains in." Sometimes Jesus really was the only thing keeping him sane. If the Hansens had never found Hilltop, Chuck's sure one of them would've killed the other.
"Don't mention it. You carry yourself differently after a hard day." It wasn't weird that he knew that, right? Chuck had been a sniper, seeing was what he did. Or at least that's what he told himself.
[He's certainly not the only one feeling stupid. Diarmuid let himself get attacked. He let himself get injured. And now he has to deal with the consequences. He breathes heavily, letting Cu do what he needed to do in order to keep him going. The bandages were tied on tightly, keeping him from bleeding any further. He lets out a light, slow sigh.]
Thank you.
[He knows what he should do. He should, indeed, go find his master to get his mana, but he can't do that. The ideal does not appeal to him one bit. He takes a breath to hiss out.]
She... I don't know where she is now.
[She hit him and ran. And he can barely tell what direction she ran off to with how hard she hit him.
He turns to look at him.]
Sorry. I'm not very useful right now.
Thank you.
[He knows what he should do. He should, indeed, go find his master to get his mana, but he can't do that. The ideal does not appeal to him one bit. He takes a breath to hiss out.]
She... I don't know where she is now.
[She hit him and ran. And he can barely tell what direction she ran off to with how hard she hit him.
He turns to look at him.]
Sorry. I'm not very useful right now.
( preferences on profile; will avoid ragnarok spoilers/set beforehand unless otherwise requested. )
It's no big surprise that the smile Chuck's smirk morphs into is one of Jesus' favorite things. It makes his stomach flip, just the once, and it's due in part to him talking about actually being happy, too. While he wasn't under the impression Chuck was unhappy, there's nothing quite like hearing that he is. Warmth settles in the pit of his stomach and he has to fight off a smile that threatens to take over his whole expression.
It's the long moment Chuck holds his gaze that really gets him, though. There are a few beats where Jesus has to force himself to take measured breaths, the possibility of forgetting how to breathe entirely a very real thing. Jesus never asked for a reason to fight for survival, but these moments between them make a good case. When Chuck finally starts to move again, he lets out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, averting his attention to rein it all back in again.
"If you're going crazy, I'm in the same boat. Somehow, thinking about it that way doesn't make it sound so bad." It's meant as a joke, but falls a little short, especially given he has to lend some thought to Chuck devoting attention to how he carries himself, of all things. Now that really doesn't seem so bad, honestly. In fact, it almost feels good.
"Why don't you sit down, take a load off? You can use my lap to lay your head down, if you want. I think it's about time I repay the doting, don't you think? I'm not the only one who has had a hard day, after all."
It's the long moment Chuck holds his gaze that really gets him, though. There are a few beats where Jesus has to force himself to take measured breaths, the possibility of forgetting how to breathe entirely a very real thing. Jesus never asked for a reason to fight for survival, but these moments between them make a good case. When Chuck finally starts to move again, he lets out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, averting his attention to rein it all back in again.
"If you're going crazy, I'm in the same boat. Somehow, thinking about it that way doesn't make it sound so bad." It's meant as a joke, but falls a little short, especially given he has to lend some thought to Chuck devoting attention to how he carries himself, of all things. Now that really doesn't seem so bad, honestly. In fact, it almost feels good.
"Why don't you sit down, take a load off? You can use my lap to lay your head down, if you want. I think it's about time I repay the doting, don't you think? I'm not the only one who has had a hard day, after all."
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