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mysteryshoptls · 4 months

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SSR Dire Crowley - Raven Jacket Vignette

"A dramatic encounter"

[Lecture Hall]

Crowley: Good morning. It is beautiful out, what an absolutely splendid start to such a lovely day.

Crowley: Incidentally… Have you noticed any changes in the apple tree growing in the courtyard?

Crowley: Yes, that's right. I'm speaking of the smallest, most recent planted tree within the courtyard.

Crowley: It feels as though it was only yesterday that it first started sprouting, and yet… It truly is growing at an astonishing rate.

Crowley: Whenever I chance a glance at that ever-striving tree growing each and every day under rain, shine or clouds, I also feel a twinge of self-reflection to be better.

Crowley: As if telling me that in both happy times and sad, one cannot forget to continue to strive for growth.

Crowley: And also… At the same time, I feel as though that tree represents all you students enrolled here at Night Raven College.

Crowley: That is, with respect to the point that with a good environment and proper nourishment, you all are able to grow and mature so wonderfully.

Crowley: …Well? Wouldn't you say that was an inspiring speech!?

Leona: Zzz.

Crowley: EXCUSE ME. I JUST HEARD A VERY LARGE SNORE THERE, WHO WAS THAT!?

Azul: It was magnificent! I was utterly enthralled by your wonderfully deep analogy. As one should expect from someone like you, Crowley-sensei!

Riddle: Really? I could have done with a little more tangible explanation, myself.

Riddle: What especially caught my attention was what you said about having "proper nourishment." Headmage, sir! What would that constitute?

Idia: Forget that, was this student assembly even a need? It's not even lol-worthy to think about how much time we've wasted having to listen to the Headmage's self-indulgent monologues on loop.

Vil: I concur. If all you wish to do is chit-chat, could you not gather the entire student body? I would rather use my mornings for my stretching exercises.

Octavinelle Student: Yeah, it's always some kind of useless speech.

Heartslabyul Student: I wanna go back to my dorm～

[clamoring]

Crowley: EVERYONE PLEASE QUIET DOWN!

Crowley: Anyway! What I was trying to say is…

Crowley: I would like everyone here to carry yourself with pride as befitting a student of Night Raven College.

Kalim: Oh! I was totally lost with what you were saying earlier, I see, so that's what you meant!

Kalim: I totally get it. I'll work hard just like an orange tree does!

Crowley: AN APPLE TREE!

[door opens]

Crowley: Hm? Who could possibly be showing up this late to… Ah.

Malleus: …

Crowley: D-DRACONIA-KUN!

Crowley: Right, did anyone tell him that there was to be a campus-wide student assembly…?

Everyone: Not at all.

Malleus: Was I not extended an invitation once again?

Malleus: You have the gall... To leave me outcast…

[lightning strikes down]

Crowley: W-Wait, Draconia-kun! Do not cast your lightning indoors!

Leona: Yaaaawn… Done blabbering, then? 'Kay, meeting over. Everyone back to their dorms.

[everyone nods]

Crowley: Aah, everyone, wait! If you're leaving, please take Draconia-kun with you!

[Cafeteria]

Crowley: For goodness’ sake. This morning could have gone much better.

Crowley: However, no matter what tribulations I may come across… Once it is time for lunch, I immediately feel much better!

Crowley: And that's all thanks to the delicious fare our school provides. What is the recommended meal of the day?

Ghost Chef: Welcome, Headmage. Today's recommendation is an exceptionally filling meat pie filled with large chunks of beef!

Crowley: Sounds fantastic. Please, I would have that, then.

Crowley: Oh, hello, Crewel-sensei and Vargas-sensei. I see Trein-sensei is with you too!

Crowley: Are you all taking lunch together? May I join you?

Vargas: Absolutely, yes, come and sit with us! I bet it'd be more than a hassle to find another seat when it's this crowded, anyway.

Crewel: I also was unable to find other seating, so here I am, reluctantly keeping company with a scold.

Trein: I do believe if you wish to avoid a lecture you would do well to not do anything warranting one.

Trein: …Oh. I see that you've ordered the beef pie, Headmage.

Crowley: That's correct. I am an avid connoisseur of meat, yes.

Crowley: Of course I'll eat it all, including beef, pork, chicken, and even wild game.

Trein: Wild game?

Crowley: Indeed, gibier, it's called. Have you ever tried it?

Vargas: Oh yeah, gibier! Last time I had some was when I ate some venison, and it sure did taste so delicious that I was overflowing with energy～

Crowley: You have a distinguished palate, Vargas-sensei. How wonderful.

Crowley: There are a multitude of other gibier meat to try, you know. I do hope you all have a chance to…

Sam: ＩＮＳＴＯＣＫＮＯＷ!

Everyone: AHH!!

Crowley: S-Sam-kun… I implore you to not pop in from behind us like that!

Sam: Nyeheehee. You all looked like you were lost in such enjoyable conversation, I just couldn't help myself.

Crewel: This is a rare sight, Sam. You're usually tending to the Mystery Shop around this time, aren't you?

Sam: The cafeteria ghosts had asked for a delivery of some ingredients, is all.

Sam: Headmage, if you're interested in some gibier that's a little more difficult to get your hands on, you know I got you.

Sam: Whatever kind of food you may want, I can procure it for you.

Crowley: You're fantastic, Sam-kun. How wonderfully supportive. However…

Crowley: In all actuality, I also have a fondness for vegetables, fruits and sweets in addition to meat. I love anything that is not spicy!

Crewel: I am fully aware. For as long as I remember, your omnivorous habits have made for quite the reputation.

Crowley: Omniv… Could you possibly say that in a more appropriate manner!?

Sam: …Hm? I just noticed that everyone's ordered very different dishes. Really goes to show each of your preferences.

Vargas: Since I always have my muscles on my mind, I make it so my lunches are egg dishes packed full of protein!

Crewel: I do like meat pies myself, so I did consider it… But that size is far too much for me.

Crewel: It may be perfect for those growing students, but it is most likely in excess of the recommended nutritional intake for us adults.

Trein: Indeed. I also selected something else when I saw it with my own eyes.

Trein: If I ate such a thing for lunch, I would still feel it weighing me down during afternoon classes.

Crowley: Is that so? Such a shame. It's so delicious～

Vargas: Nice, that's a great appetite you got. I'll have to work hard to keep up!

Trein: Look at him, devouring that hearty and greasy meat pie so easily… He truly is young at heart…

Crewel: You're not wrong, he hasn't changed one bit from my student days.

Trein: For that matter, I don't believe he's changed since I started my tenure here at Night Raven College…

Crewel: Headmage… How old is he truly? I'm curious, and yet I'm not sure I want to know…

Sam: Nyeheehee. He's truly a man of mystery. It piques one's curiosity.

Crowley: Ah, so delicious. Past me deserves such gracious thanks for hiring these Five-Star restaurant chefs.

Crowley: And what a dramatic encounter it was meeting those chef ghosts.

Crowley: That was… Oh, hm. How many decades ago, now?

[Main Street]

Crowley: Now, what shall I do this afternoon? The other professors are busy with classes, so mayhaps I'll go while away the time at Sam-kun's shop…

???: We ain't gotta sweat the small stuff, c'mon.

Crowley: Hm? This voice…

Grim: No one'll notice if we skip one or two classes. We should totally just snag a few z's instead, myahaha!

1. Let's hurry and head back towards the classroom. 2. Maybe you're right and no one will catch us…

Crowley: That certainly was Grim-kun's voice, I see…

Crowley: Even if it is just those two, how could there be anyone with the audacity to cut class at my academy! I absolutely cannot believe it!

Savanaclaw Student: Hey, we'll be using that bench to relax on while we ditch class. Get off.

Grim: Huuh!? I'm the one who found this sunny spot first!

Crowley: WHA― THERE ARE OTHERS CUTTING CLASS AS WELL!?

Crowley: Not only are there multiple students missing class, it seems a fight is about to break out, as well… What is with this break in decorum at this school?

Crowley: EXCUSE ME, YOU LOT! YOU SHOULD ALL BE IN CLASS RIGHT NOW!

Grim: Urgh. Someone annoying's found us.

Crowley: [Yuu]-kun, it is most troublesome if you cannot look after Grim-kun properly.

1. I'm sorry.

Crowley: How refreshing… It's so moving to have someone apologize so forthright immediately after breaking a rule…

2. Grim just doesn't listen to me.

Crowley: Y-You're just running yourself ragged, I see… Poor thing to have to deal with Grim-kun like this.

Crowley: All of you return to class this instant. It should be an honor that you have the privilege of attending classes here.

Crowley: Magic is not something so simple that can be controlled on talent alone.

Crowley: Of course, natural talent may be important, but what truly matters is maturing your abilities through daily growth and experiences.

Crowley: You all do remember my very loving speech from this morning, yes?

Grim: It was all about somethin' boring, so I wasn't listening.

Ignihyde Student: Yeah. Same.

Crowley: EXCUSE ME!? [Yuu]-kun, please tell me you had your listening ears on this morning?

1. Of course I remember.

Crowley: Whew... At least you're a good student.

2. Something about grape trees, right?

Crowley: APPLE TREES!

Ignihyde Student: Man, you're so annoying… You keep yammering on, but there's really no reason to listen to you, is there?

Diasomnia Student: Seriously. It’s not like I've ever seen the Headmage do any kind of crazy strong magic or anything, and even the Housewardens were ignoring him at the student assembly…

Savanaclaw Student: He ain't scary at all. Just ignore him!

Crowley: …What pitiful children.

Crowley: Well, I suppose I have no choice. I'll just have to show you exactly how important incremental advancement in your studies can be.

Crowley: …FOR MY KINDNESS KNOWS NO BOUNDS!

Students: HRRGHH!

Grim: Oh hey, that stuff wrapped around those guys is the Headmage's uh… weird rope thing!

Crowley: This is not rope. This is my lash of love! A slightly stronger version than before.

Savanaclaw Student: OW, OW! I'M GETTING SQUEEZED～!

Diasomnia Student: This kinda magic should be no problem to break out… Hurng, I can't!? Wh-Why? Our magic's not even making a scratch on it!

Crowley: That should be expected. You do realize I am the Headmage here, yes? This level of magic comes as easily to me as breathing does.

Crowley: It's one thing when those who comprehend my power, like the Housewardens, speak in jest…

Crowley: But it would be completely disgraceful of me as an instructor to be belittled by students like you who have no knowledge of the difference in our abilities.

Crowley: You should try to comprehend how unripe your magical abilities still are.

Grim: Yeah, yeah, get 'em, Crowley! Show 'em what little they know!

1. I wouldn't get too carried away… 2. Wouldn't it be better to run before…?

Crowley: And a lash of love for you! My more heedful version!

Grim: GRRAAH～!

1. Astounding, no matter how many times I see it! 2. Your lightning quick flick made quick work of him!

Crowley: Heh, you don't have to go that far in praising… Hold on now, Grim-kun! No matter how much you thrash about, nothing will come of it. Calm yourself.

Crowley: After all, I have such high expectations for you, Grim-kun. That includes you too, [Yuu]-kun.

Crowley: I fully believe that the two of you will be integral to changing the future of this academy.

Crowley: I'm sure you two will be all I hope for and more, don't you?

Grim: Yeah, yeah, I gotchu. Just leave it all to the genius Grim-sama.

Grim: …SO LET ME GO ALREADY～!

Crowley: Well then. I suppose I'll just take you all to your assigned classes just like this now.

Grim: Huh!? If you drag us along all tied up like this, everyone that'll see us will all point and laugh…!

Grim: LET GO, LET ME GOOO!

Crowley: I must make sure that you Night Raven College students properly reflect on your actions and learn from each experience.

Crowley: And that is because you are all one of my very precious, precious apple trees...

Requested by Anonymous.

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pesterquestrewritten · 4 months

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Sorry if this is an inappropriate question to ask, but why do you want to rewrite pesterquest? Was there anything wrong with its original version, or are you just doing this for fun?

brain is a Lil Loopy rn so please excuse if this answer is semi incoherent - recovering from ankle surgery rn.

im gonna try to not harp on the original pesterquest as a project/talk about my percieved issues with it. from what I understand about the work environment where it was developed, it was hell -- poor communication, tiny budgets, little overall direction. plus every artist/writer involved was likely busy with other things at the same time (for example finishing the development of Hiveswap Act 2). they had so much going against them, and... it sorts shows in the final work, which isn't their fault. the original PQ team was passionate and cared and like. the absolutely last thing i want to do is disrespect them.

(generally also stating for the record that calling the original PQ "trash" or "replaced" is like. not good vibes. please don't do this if you're trying to enjoy PQR -- the last thing the original postcanon team needs is more harassment.)

anyway.

pqr is fanfiction, fundamentally.

i started making pqr because in september i was sick with covid, i wanted to learn renpy, and i wanted to study homestuck more. i wanted to figure out what made PQ tick, literally, figuratively, all of the above.

plus i really wanted to write a different story arc for mspar.

i also really love the side characters in Homestuck, and wish they all got more time to shine. the pqr prologue including a set of Spades Slick sprites just for a brief encounter i think helps establish what i want to do with the like. raw potential of the premise of a Homestuck visual novel.

damara is the other big thing -- i've wanted to make a story with her in it work for ages. (if anyone remembers the old MEGIDO hades mod, that was my first big public attempt. she was gonna be the protagonist, breaking out of scratch's mansion. turns out coding in renpy is WAY easier LMAO)

like. the plan wasn't even initially to have the prologue be a full damara route? i just let the writing take me where it wanted to take me. it's been deeply fun and cathartic.

the prologue's "bad end" has some incredibly intimate themes of like. inevitability, and worrying you've let everyone you love down, and i showed it to a college friend who i hadn't spoken to for ages and she set a screenshot from it as her background.

like. to me. that's pqr. that's why i make it.

pqr is the laundry room ending of rose's route, a deeply personal look into my own fears and anxieties as an author reflected back through this girl's circumstances. pqr is also the retcon ending of rose's route, a wildly stupid and indulgent romp through my own past fanfiction for a silly gag that people seemed to really love.

pqr is about dave and myself looking for a place to stay simultaneously -- pqr is about jade leaving prospit, and how i was adding to that part of the game in real-time as i dropped out of college, changing both of our destinies to something unexpected but hopefully better, at the same time.

pqr is also a silly extended sleepover scene. it's just fun to see them interact.

pqr is an excuse to turn over corners of homestuck and see if we can't peek behind them. what was it like for roxy, to think she lost joey and then find rose's meteor barely a year later? of course she'd think it's impossible for her to succeed as a mother. pqr is about finding empathy for yourself for your own mistakes, reflected back at you through homestuck characters.

because really, isn't that what we're all here for?

pqr is me coming back to my last long-abandoned attempt at an act 5 rewrite. pqr is an excuse to watch my girlfriend grow in confidence and style as she makes all the endcards and incidental art (except for joey route pt 2, but THAT was an excuse to work with a NEW friend!!!!!!!)

pqr is a friendship simulator that i am winning by having an incredibly supportive and collaborative group of friends in the dev thread who are cheering me on with every segment of text i post, friends who will hop in vc to check out the newest segment. friends like @dare0451 who literally yesterday rendered out some new audio to upgrade the June route to be even more fucking amazing and terrifying than it already was, AND DARE HASN'T EVEN PLAYED IT????? IT'S LITERALLY JUST. IT'S FRIENDSHIP MAN. PQR IS FRIENDSHIP

what the hell was this question again.

oh right.

yeah it's been fun basically. that's why i do it lol

#pesterquest rewritten #pqr #homestuck #fansim #hom3stuck #asksbox

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plottingalong · 6 months

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Indulge me in a quick tirade here. I think Ncuti Gatwa is going to be incredible and I also think that wiping the slate clean is a great idea for a whole new era. So much of 9-12's era was just more and more compounding problems, and then 13's problems built on that already shaky foundation and made an even bigger mess (I don't even mean that in a bad way, it was just a lot to juggle). So okay they're sending 15 in spanking clean in as much of a birthday suit disney will allow. (Incidentally, to be fair, they did try to set up a new generation of Who with 13, but I think ultimately they realized their main audience remained mostly lukewarm about those seasons.) That being said, I'm really unsatisfied with how they tied up 14. The lifeblood of doctor who is the fact the doctor regenerate. He can do anything, but when the time comes and the magic mystic lights start shining that means it's time for another face. 10's already gotten away with this once what with the whole tentoo shit but that was fair enough because he was exiled to another universe. This happening a scond time is really pushing it in my opinion, esp considering the fact that 13 straight up *regenerated into* DT, and he wasn't just cameoing as other doctors do in specials. To me this feels like it does a disservice to DT's entire run. Sure, he gets a happy ending, which literally no doctor ever gets. But it's too much of a bland happily ever after with no real bones to hold it up. What they could've done to make it far better was give it hard stipulations such as declaring 14 would have no further regenerations. Something incredibly touching they could have done was that instead of that dumbass joke in the first special about how 14 as a male presenting doctor would never understand rose and donna letting go of their time lordiness, they could have had the doctor go like, "huh I didn't know you could do that". And in the regeneration scene, he could have chosen the Noble way out (lol) and decided that it was time to let go, and let someone else have a turn at the wheel. In making that decision he lets go of his regeneration energy, funneling it all into 15 and leaving him with one life and one life only. That way he's tying into the family he's joining into in more ways than one, by finally making what is typically the companion's decision to let go. Anyway I just feel like they needed to make that decision wayyy more bittersweet than it was because it felt like more of a magic bullet than DT's fantastic run deserves.

#doctor who #14th doctor #doctor who spoilers #the giggle #the giggle spoilers

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paalove · 2 years

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my client didn't show up so i had some unexpected time. instead of doing anything on the to-do list i edited the f/f toddwhite-adjacent thing i've been mentioning lol (horny but not spicy)

...

When Todd gets back to the counter, White’s peering down at her own arm again.

Todd feels indulgent, and laughs, “Trying not to poke it?”

“It didn’t hurt the way I thought it would,” White replies softly.

Nothing about the way White talks is like her sister, but it’s better that way – it means Todd won’t slip up. She’s carrying the same clippers she once used on Black, a stupid weak self-pitying decision to keep them now coming back and making itself useful. She’s good at making her weaknesses useful.

That’s what all this is about.

“Are you ready?” she asks White, and she can’t help making it kind of flirty – not that White will notice.

She watches as White swallows, glances back at her tattoo, and looks back up to Todd – her gaze is harder now, as close to Black’s steely determination as she thinks White can get, and she nods. Todd could coo at the whole thing, because White’s impression of her sister is going to be so fucking terrible.

Todd grins and turns the clippers on.

Earlier, she’d explained to White, “I did this for Black, the first time – or, well,” breaking off into a too-sincere reminiscing laugh, “The first time after she messed it up and needed help making it look good. Your mae was so mad.”

She’d left unsaid and unknown the way Black had never come back for her help after, always handling it herself or with those friends she has, never looking quite as neat again. White still thinks they’re still in contact, so she can keep thinking it’s Todd that does Black’s hair.

Todd’s not that servile, but for Black…

Well, she thinks as she starts running the clippers over White’s hair – already trimmed short, White had done that part by herself before the tattoo – this isn’t in service of anyone but herself.

White holds still under her, the way Black hadn’t bothered to even back then, and even though she knows who she’s really with, the reflexive heat-memory wells up, and she licks her lips. Todd could push White a lot further than Black, before she’d push back.

At that thought, she steps around to the front of the chair, pretends not to notice the anxiety – fear? – on White’s pretty little face, and starts clipping the top.

Her brows furrow in response, but she still doesn’t move as she asks, “Didn’t we say you’d only do the sides?”

Todd’s heartbeat picks up, but she laughs easily and answers, “I thought about it again,” steps slightly closer to White, as if to really examine what she’s doing and only incidentally causing her to loom over her, “And I realised it’s better if it just looks like Black’s gone away and shaved her head again – if you look too styled, people will notice, White,” and from this angle she can examine White’s expression for any hint of betrayal or upset without White noticing.

She doesn’t get any reaction like that, though, and she tries not to feel disappointed that White doesn’t even tremble.

“That makes sense,” is her only answer.

Annoyed, Todd returns to her task slightly more quickly, a bit more brisk – rough, even. White still doesn’t move. Todd gets the top of her head done, moves down to one side, and accidentally-ish creates a little bald streak behind her ear.

“Oops,” she whispers into the same ear.

Todd can feel White’s breath, now, not as unaffected as she seems, it shudders and she says, “What?”

“It’s fine,” Todd says instead, not-quite answering, “Black DIYs it all the time – it’s more convincing if the job looks kind of rough.”

Now she feels White’s breath shudder again, hears her swallow.

“Okay.”

Everything’s so quiet – not at all like a visit from Black towards the end, but back when they were new to college and new-old to each other, discovering new things together… yes, there are echoes here.

The other side, Todd’s not as mean – she does that one as well as she can, and she turns the clippers off but doesn’t step back.

Instead, she stands up straight and gets more of a height advantage, runs a proprietary hand over White’s head – checking for anywhere she’s missed, if White wonders – and blows, so lightly White won’t say anything, onto her ear, just to feel the shudder. That one works.

Todd swallows and thinks, I could – but that would mess up the plans.

Heart pounding like it really is Black she’s been here with, she steps back and returns to a businesslike tone, saying, “All done,” with an easy smile and no indication she’s done anything weird.

Black would call her on it – wide-eyed White, visibly confused, she won’t dare.

“Good luck, White.”

Cautiously, White says, “Thank you.”

That nearly makes Todd laugh – she won’t, though. She’s got plans.

#not me #robfic #um. this probably isn't going on ao3 it feels like a tumblr-exclusive lol

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depresseddistraughtdisillusioned · 2 years

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If You Can't Have the Job You Love, Love the Job You Have?

Following our dreams, finding our passions, and chasing our purpose has left a lot of us bereft, directionless, adrift, and missing everything on the list.

Perhaps life should be defined as "Learning to cope with disappointment."

So I began to wonder, "What if I devoted myself to being good at my job? What opportunities might I find there? Since I've been without direction for years, meandering, why not grab whatever anchor is there and see where it leads me?"

I've never learned much about storytelling nor plot arcs, nor character development. I barely pay attention to all my grammarizing or syntacticality.

Incidentally, syntax is among my favorite words.

What if I really started throwing myself into it? Started taking more shifts for more money, just to expedite moving. It might not be the greatest thrill, but a little workaholism might not be the worst thing to indulge in right now.

I'm just concerned about what that does to my psyche.

It's hard to know exactly where to focus your attention. Sometimes you're better off seeking something to pursue, rather than something to avoid. For instance, becoming really involved in exercise could be the same goal as not smoking pot. If your goal is not to smoke, you're moving away from something. That can be more difficult, because you're still focused on the activity. Focusing on not doing it is not that different from focusing on doing it.

The reason for this is neurological. In a very rudimentary sense, your brain sends two signals when you tell yourself not to do something. The first signal says "do the thing." The second signal negates the first one, sending a "do not do the thing." When most people stand near a ledge they will get this sensation. You will likely get a wild thought about jumping off the edge. This can happen if you are a perfectly happy person who is neither a thrill seeker nor suicidal. Many people have this happen to them.

The reason is the brain is thinking about jumping off the ledge, and then saying "but actually, don't do that."

It's very similar to the mental trick "don't think of an elephant," which forces someone to immediately think of an elephant, because they do that in order to tell themselves not to think about it.

What this means for quitting an addiction is that if you're focused on stopping, you're still reactivating the part of your brain that thinks about engaging in the addiction.

This is why many people then focus on recovery, as their replacement. That is thinking about healing from the addiction and engaging in life again, rather than simply stopping. It also provides an outlet for emotionally clearing out the difficult thoughts and feelings that led to engaging in the addiction in the first place.

This was about learning to love your job, huh?

If you focus on making your job better, or becoming more adept at your job, it can become your passion, and take on purpose for you. You can start to see how doing it allows you to impact the world in some way. Learning more about it, you'll see even being a good cashier is something that can work wonders for you. That's about reading people, understanding shoppers, seeing how a business operates from within. Seeing where there is potential to learn and grow.

Otherwise, I'm focused on being resentful and thinking they are wrong and that I'm a bitch who isn't standing up for myself. Actually, I could find a better way to interact with my editor.

See, pot mellows me out enough to think of these things. It's a crutch, but it's not all bad. Minus the paranoia part.

But, I'm going to shift my mentality to trying to be better at my job. I've actually been listening to my editor, and just trying to learn to play the game they want. Which is a good start. It wouldn't hurt to voice my opinion in a way that is kind and approachable. There's no need to silently stuff it.

Being a better writer, better marketer, and learning more about the operations of a bigger site isn't a bad education. So, I'll play the game and see how they do things 'round these parts.

The scientific mindset is a powerful one to acquire. If everything is an experiment to see the outcome, your ego doesn't get involved as easily. You merely observe the outcome without feeling like you handled it badly or are weak, stupid, or wrong for your thoughts.

If you feel like something dark and bloody, watch the Hannibal TV Series. I mention that because Mads Mikkelsen as Hannibal is always watching people, gauging their reaction. He is never really involved with their feelings. He is merely observing them and how they respond to the grim and dour circumstances. The show itself fades after about the second season, if not a bit before, but the early parts are such masterworks that it's really worth watching. That's from a lifelong lover of the original "Silence of the Lambs" film, the whole Thomas Harris series of books, though also a harsh critic of the "Hannibal" book itself. I barely bothered with "Hannibal Rising" because I felt like Harris was going back to a well that worked, but his inspiration had fled.

Anyhow, Mikkelsen's performance is a great example of someone who treats everything like an experiment. Constantly removed, and making little mental notes of how you act, what you say, how the strain shows. Weighing your heart against a feather.

#addiction #job #work #employment #Hannibal #Mads Mikkelsen #Loving your job #finding your passion #finding your purpose

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iam93percentstardust · 3 years

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Not sure if you’ve written something like this before, but my prompt is Tony being really into skincare and one day Steve finally lets him do a skincare routine on him before they sleep? And tony climbs on Steve’s lap to do it while Steve just lets his boyfriend do his thing, indulging and amused. I thought of this while doing my night time skin routine hehe

Hi! No, I don’t think I’ve ever written a skincare routine fic before, but it’s something I’ve always wanted to try! Since my skincare routine is really simple, I ended up writing more of an introspective fic while Tony is incidentally doing his routine on Steve, but I hope it’s still something you enjoy!

As always, everything I write is also on ao3

Steve doesn’t understand it, but that’s okay.

The skincare routine has always been more Tony’s thing than his. Steve just doesn’t understand the point when his shower works just as well. Tony always calls him the peak of human perfection anyway and that’s without the routine so why should he take the time to bother with skincare on top of that?

Tony likes it though. Steve’s never asked, but he thinks Tony’s insistence on doing the skincare routine every single night before bed has less to do with how much he likes it and more to do with the routine being something he and Maria had done together before—before that terrible accident last year.

He looks at Tony, sleepily doing his routine in the bathroom. There’s something very soft about Tony when he’s sleepy. Tony when he’s awake and alert is always a sight to see—usually dressed in an oil-stained t-shirt and holey jeans, mind flying from one topic to the next, held back only by the speed of his fingers, positively beautiful in his exhilaration. But Tony when he’s sleepy, when he’s dressed in an oversized MIT hoodie and fuzzy socks, that’s something special that only Steve gets to see.

He gets up from their bed and heads into the bathroom, wrapping his arms around Tony’s waist as he stands behind him. Tony makes a quiet, surprised sound, hands dropping down to Steve’s.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Steve says and nudges the sensitive skin behind Tony’s ear with his nose. Tony murmurs wordlessly, so he does it again before placing a kiss light as air there. “When you’re done in here, you wanna come out to our bedroom and do one for me?”

Tony’s head falls back on his shoulder. His eyes are shining, a small smile playing around the corners of his mouth. “You mean it?” he asks.

“Wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t.” It wouldn’t be right of him to dangle that offer in front of him only to snatch it away. He knows that Tony’s been dying to try out his routine on Steve for ages. He’ll be excited that Steve is finally agreeing. He doesn’t know what makes him say yes today, other than it’s a completely random day and on completely random days, he likes to surprise Tony with things, spoil him the way he should be.

Tony’s face lights up. “I’d like that,” he says and stretches up enough to kiss the underside of Steve’s jaw. “Go sit on the edge of the bed, I’ll be right out.”

It takes a few minutes before Tony pads out of the bathroom, silent in his socked feet, arms full of products. Steve’s eyes widen at the sight, and Tony chuckles.

“Don’t worry, darling,” Tony tells him, setting the bottles down beside him. “It’s not as scary as it looks.”

“Looks pretty scary,” Steve mutters.

“Hmm, well then, let’s see if we can make it a little better. Sound good?” Without waiting for an answer, Tony slides into his lap, straddling him. Automatically, Steve’s hands rise to his hips, both to steady him and because it’s a Pavlovian response. His hands aren’t the only parts of his body that know what it means when Tony straddles him, and he fights back a wave of embarrassment as his cock hardens against Tony’s ass. Tony, though, just laughs again and raises up a little higher on his knees to relieve the pressure on his dick.

“You can sit down, sweetheart,” Steve says. “I can behave.”

“I know you can. But this is a better angle for me anyway.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I am,” Tony assures him with a wink. “So sure.”

Steve relaxes as Tony pulls out a small white tub filled with some sort of cream. He closes his eyes as Tony gently dabs it onto his skin with his fingertips, rubbing it in in little circles. It’s oddly soothing, Tony’s calloused fingertips gentle on his skin.

“This is cleanser,” Tony tells him. “If you’re wearing any makeup, it helps break it down, but for you and me, we just use it to break down any larger dirt particles on our skin.”

“Are you going to follow that up by telling me which brand you recommend and to subscribe to your channel?” Steve asks dryly, reminded of the influencers Bucky keeps showing him so they can laugh at them.

Tony snickers, pressing his face against Steve’s shoulder for a moment. “I like to think I’m not as bad as that. For one thing, this routine is way shorter than theirs.”

“Yeah?”

“I assume when so many companies own your soul, you have to stretch out the routine so you can cram all those products in.”

Steve grins, hands sneaking under Tony’s shirt to rub against his bare skin. “Well, thank god that there’s only one company that owns your soul.”

“Hmm hurray for SI, I guess.”

Tony follows the cleanser up with an actual face wash, cleaning Steve’s face with as much care as he’d shown him during the cleanser. He doesn’t describe any of the other products, instead telling Steve about his day at SI, a much better place now that Stane is ousted and Tony has hired a new CEO instead. Steve likes Pepper a lot; he thinks she’ll be good for Tony, bringing some of his more fanciful ideas back down to earth. They’re working on a new water filtration system right now, a cheaper but higher quality alternative to the systems out right now.

In turn, Steve tells him about his own day, finishing up the last couple of classes he needs for graduation. He’s getting a degree in art therapy, intending to help kids the same way he was helped back when he was young and constantly sick. He just needs to finish two more classes and he’ll be set, ready to “go forth and save the day” as Tony puts it.

Tony’s movements start slowing down as he tires, his eyes taking longer to open each time he blinks. “Hey,” Steve says gently, catching Tony’s chin in his hands so he can look him in the eyes. “We don’t have to finish this now. We can do this tomorrow.”

“No,” Tony says sleepily. “We’re almost done.”

“You sure?”

He nods, and Steve lets him get back to what he was doing. Sure enough, Tony applies one more product to Steve’s face—“A moisturizer,” Tony tells him—and then stands back up, wobbling on his feet. Steve reaches out to steady him, hands lingering on Tony’s waist.

“How about I put all these away and you crawl into bed?” Steve suggests.

“You sure?” Tony asks, echoing Steve’s own words.

He nods. Tony really must be tired because he doesn’t even put up a fuss about making sure Steve puts the products back in their place—which is good, because Steve has no idea where they go. He just wants to get them put back in the bathroom and they’ll take care of putting them away properly tomorrow.

Tony is already mostly-asleep by the time Steve heads back into their bedroom, only his hair peeking out from under the blankets. He smiles at the familiar sight and turns out the lights, easily picking his way across their bedroom in the dark to settle into bed next to Tony, who curls into him as soon as he lays down.

“Good night, sweetheart,” he murmurs, closing his eyes.

Tony mumbles something and presses the lightest of kisses to Steve’s shoulder.

#stevetony #alle writes #alle answers #if you like please consider reblogging #Anonymous

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shihalyfie · 3 years

Text

Just a few notes about Ghost Game in regards to some discussion about its ghost/potential youkai theme:

I know a lot of people are bringing up Yo-kai Watch, which I think is a completely understandable and fair comparison because it’s a popular monster-collecting franchise that deals with this kind of topic, but...if you’ve actually seen the Yo-kai Watch anime, it doesn’t resemble this much in tone at all. Ghost Game’s promotion has constantly been leaning on it having a proper horror/scary atmosphere, which Yo-kai Watch prominently does not; in fact, one of its most notable traits is that it’s more about using youkai to explain extremely mundane phenomena like “people forgetting things they need to be remembering” and silly hijinks that often involve things like fart jokes. For that reason, it’s also extremely episodic and doesn’t have much of a dramatic plot; the games are more toned down about this aspect and have more drama, but that’s also partially due to the difference in format (and, moreover, it tells you something that the second game's plot was adapted into a movie instead of being part of the TV series). That’s one of the reasons it was considered a Pokémon rival, because it had the same “accessible to everyone” appeal and was intended to be an indefinitely continuing extendable franchise. If we’re just strictly speaking in terms of tone, you’d even make a better case for the early episodes of Appmon (which shares a writer with its anime, while we’re at it). Not even the whole series of Appmon.

You can also see this in terms of target audience too; with the exception of the reboot (which presumably had to use the same age levels as the original Adventure for obvious reasons), every Digimon TV series since Savers has focused on middle school children, and the primary target audience for Digimon has traditionally been preteens, whereas the original incarnation of Yo-kai Watch was very much aimed at a significantly younger wider-appeal demographic (same as Pokémon’s).

If you do want to make an accurate Yo-kai Watch comparison, there’s the Shadowside iteration of the franchise (which did have darker and more dramatic story-based elements), but I think it’s pretty unlikely Digimon would be taking anything more than a few minor cues; it probably wouldn’t be a good thing to be using Shadowside as a major reference of success, given that, uh, it didn’t do nearly as well financially (I’m saying this as someone who enjoys this, so I don’t mean this as a dig). It’s like saying that something’s trying to ride off of Digimon’s hype, but then the example cited is Frontier or Appmon.

The “ghost story” genre with going out and solving mysteries regarding them is not an uncommon one in Japanese media (see Natsume’s Book of Friends, Mononoke, Mob Psycho 100), and people paying close attention to Ghost Game’s production and staff are actually suspecting that this is more taking cues from GeGeGe no Kitaro -- which is basically known as the franchise about solving spiritual mysteries in Japan. And, incidentally, also produced by Toei! To the point it shares staff! Including Sawashiro Miyuki, voice of Gammamon, voicing Kitaro in the most recent version of the anime. Kitaro very much does have the horror atmosphere Ghost Game is advertising itself as having, to the point Sawashiro (presumably very self-aware about her position in this) outright namedropped it, and on top of that, it was the show that used to hold the timeslot that Ghost Game now has. So if a kid was watching Kitaro on that timeslot in 2018, it’s presumable that they might like something with a similar atmosphere, and it makes sense that Toei and Bandai would want to keep in mind what they could do to attract kids to the show when they’re about to lose the card of “Adventure-loving parents convince their kids to watch it”.

Moreover, horror stories mixed with Digimon aren’t new to the franchise; this is its first incarnation in kids’ anime in particular, but Cyber Sleuth/Hacker’s Memory indulged in a lot of that atmosphere, even for things that technically had nothing to do with ghosts or spirits (“doll quest”, anyone?). So while it’s possible it’s taking some cues from Yo-kai Watch because of its popularity boom a handful of years ago, I don’t think that’s the primary franchise it would be wanting to take after given the differences, and because Yo-kai Watch itself takes cues from Kitaro (the aforementioned Shadowside branch had a crossover with it, too), it kind of feels like saying any magical girl series released after Sailor Moon must be ripping it off -- a magical girl series may take cues from it due to its popularity, but it’s hardly the first magical girl series to ever exist.

#digimon #digimon ghost game

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canary3d-obsessed · 4 years

Text

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed, Episode 01

(Masterpost) (Next Episode)

Warning: This is **FULL **of spoilers, not just for this episode but for the entire series. If you haven’t finished all 50 episodes, please don’t read it!

Intro: 2020 continues to be much much too much while also being incredibly boring, and Im done with Shen Wei’s Lewks, so now I’m doing a deep meta dive into the Untamed. Let’s roll!

Prologue: The Battle of Mordor

The Demise of our Protagonist

Unlike some other shows I won’t name, The Untamed kills its suicidal queer protagonist immediately, rather than waiting four seasons, so we know what we're in for.

This is Wei Wuxian, who is about to yeet himself off of a cliff. He is having a bad day.

Note: if mouth blood bothers you...C-Drama might not be your thing.

Reasons for mouth blood: a sampler

Anyway...cliff time

Note: if (fictional) suicide bothers you...C-Drama might not be your thing.

To be fair there are hardly any suicides in The Untamed. No more than ...five? As long as you don’t count the entire population of the Wen Corporate Headquarters in Yiling or those wall bandits in Qinghe or Madame Yu or all those Wens who supposedly threw themselves into the mud puddle or that Mo guy who broke his own neck. Plus watching Wei Wuxian’s cliff drop several more times from multiple angles. So, you know. Hardly Any Suicides.

This is Lan Wangji, who is about to have his first losing encounter with physics. He is having a bad day.

In fact, if it is possible to have a worse day than the guy who is currently falling to his death, Lan Wangji is having that.

This is Jiang Cheng, who is feeling extra stabby from this camera angle. He is having a bad day.

Camera operator: why you gotta take it out on me?

(Much, much more after the cut!)

The Amulet Situation

This is the Stygian Tiger Amulet. Yes, by all means, (Netflix) subtitles, let's use a 12-dollar word, “Stygian,” that every English speaker who is not a Shelley/Byron shipper will have to look up. Let’s not use a normal word like "deathly" or "corrupt" or you know... "Yin" which is clearly what they are saying on screen.

Why does this tiger amulet look like a chameleon crossed with a remora? Wei Wuxian can paint photorealistic bunnies on a flimsy lantern while sitting in a field having distracting teenage lust, but two months of meditating with super magic gets him a tiger that looks like a chameleon. And don’t try telling me this is a traditional-Chinese-art vibe because this jade tiger from frickin 1000 BCE is way more tigerish than Wei Wuxian’s attempt.

Try harder next time, Wei Wuxian.

This is thousands of cultivators having a battle. What do you mean, it looks like about 40-60 dudes?

Any time someone in The Untamed refers to a number of people, it is like when you do your high school play and look off into the wings at nothing and say “Hark, A Ship Approaches!” and everyone’s parents nod indulgently.

Jin Clan Mountain Hunt:

*viewership nods indulgently*

This is Captain Blowhard, over on the right, courtesy name Clan Leader Yao. His job is to talk smack about Wei Wuxian and stick up for whoever is the biggest asshole in any given scene.

He represents mainstream cultivation-world values so here he is shanking one of his allies to take the deadly amulet of evilness.

The Present Day

Spilling All That Yiling Laozu Tea

Down at the Exposition Tea Shop, the Lan juniors are chilling and listening to Tea Dude tell the story of Yiling Laozu.

How did they get permission to take this field trip? “Principal Qiran, we want to go downtown to hang out with the local rabble and learn about your favorite person, Wei Wuxian.”

Waiting in the wings is the man with a fan and a plan, Nie Huaisan(g), who is paying tall loot to get these stories told.

...Why? Is Mo Xuanyu having tea here and listening? Or is Wei Wuxian being summoned back by hearing all this smack being talked about him? *Shrug.*

Gank Your Soul

Drunk flag guy out here talking about spirits. Wikipedia tells me that In one school of Daoist thought, a human being has a collection of physical souls (魄 pò) and ethereal souls (魂 hún). Drunk flag guy is saying “hún ” at the moment.

The many types of souls don’t translate well into English, where spiritual vocabulary has always been shackled connected to Christian beliefs, and is too limited for this context. So when the subtitles have conversations like “Is it a soul eater? No, no, it’s a spirit taker!” just roll with it. (Speaking of hún, if you have any interest in linguistics, do yourself a favor and go read all the wonderful meta @hunxi-guilai)

The spirit-carrying flag looks a lot like Raava and Vaatu from Korra which...probably doesn’t mean anything.

The Demise of our Trill Host

Suicide #2 happens about 8 minutes in.

Mo Xuanyu is that hippie roommate with the annoying wind chimes and bead curtains and blood spatter.

He is super mad at his terrible family and also at Jin Guangyao, who sent him home to his terrible family. I wonder if Fan Man Nie Huaisang influenced Jiggy’s decision-making there. Mo Xuanyu’s choice to die for revenge might be excessive, given how easy it actually is to murder the Mo family.

Being Alive Is Fine I Guess As Long As I Get To Fuck WIth People

Wei Wuxian starts his new life by splashing a little water on his face, which instantly makes his hair go from this

to this.

He looks at his reflection and wishes he was dead, which--mood--but he gets over it as soon as he finds someone whose day he can fuck up.

And he is ALL in on being crazy.

OP wishes she had the Wei Wuxian kind of crazy instead of the kind she actually has.

Meanwhile, this is the sane Mo cousin:

This asshole is wearing one of the best fabrics in the whole show, incidentally. Asshole.

My favorite bit of Wei-Mo craziness is when Wei Wuxian does a meaningless 360 all the way around this dude before ducking in the opposite direction, which is like when I make 4 right turns around a whole block to avoid making a single left across traffic.

Perhaps I Do Miss One Thing In This Life

Wei Wuxian has pining thoughts about Lan Wangji, so he plays WangXian on a fucking blade of grass well enough for Sizhui to recognize it from his dad's guqin jams.

Wei Wuxian is a better flautist than even Inspector Gadget BeatBoxing Flute Guy (Google it).

Our Many Many Spirit Lure Flags have Lured A Spirit, Oh Shit

Lan Clan has a Plan and Wei Wuxian is a Fan

Having one single lure flag stuck in Wen Ning’s torso caused spirits to basically eat him alive, so to catch one evil spirit, 6 disciples holding flags on the roof plus 8 more flags on the ground seems like a good amount. Wei Wuxian is like “yep, a single one of these will lure every spirit for five miles, carry on, younglings.”

Baxia Does the Heavy Lifting

Wei Wuxian is supposed to kill four people because of this curse situation, and in the course of the series they all die, and he kills exactly zero of them. The curse on Wei Wuxian’s arm should be called the scorekeeper curse.

Baxia’s spirit pinballs around the Mo clan, rapidly killing three people on Mo Xuanyu’s list plus a couple extras for good measure. Who's a good blade? Baxia is! Yess you are! Yes you are!

This here is the exact point in the show where your friend, who has listened to you squee about The Untamed for three months and finally agreed to watch it with you, will say “what the fuck am I watching?” and try to get up off the couch. Tackle them!

This also the point where we all realize that the prosthetic and practical effects in this show were probably not made by the people who made the clothing, because the quality is...variable. The white eyeballs are pretty good, but the glove of death is ridiculous.

Camera operator: why you gotta take it out on me?

While Baxia goes to town on the Mo clan, the Lan Clan babies...watch? And tie up the various victims after they are already goners.

Narrator: Her son is dead.

Meanwhile,

Wei Wuxian, you motherfucker. You’ve been alive for like 7 hours and you’re already building a new zombie army. No wonder you don’t want them to call Lan Wangji.

Hanguang-Jun Cut It Up One Time

Lan Wangji shows up and very slowly kicks zombie ass with his guqin. If you are used to Hong Kong action speeds, you will find The Untamed very peaceful.

All of the baby Lans fan squee up at Lan Wangji like he's the cultivation world's David Bowie and...they're not wrong. Jesus Fuck, he’s charismatic.

Lan Wangji is soft boi when he discovers this murderous sword full of dead-bastard energy, because it reminds him of his true love.

Like the talk about souls, the conversations about the nature of the murderous entity really don’t survive translation into English.

Servant: it’s a ghost!

WWX: it’s not a ghost, it’s a spirit

Babies: It’s a spirit

LWJ: it’s not a spirit, it’s a [...] ghost

Our Protagonist gets the FOH

Wei Wuxian is soft boi when he sees Lan Wangji, but not so soft that he considers actually, like, sticking around.

Wei Wuxian is also clueless boi, noting Lan Wangji’s white clothing and thinking, as in the past, that he looks like he’s dressed in mourning. The term he uses is 戴孝, which google tells me means the type of outfit worn by Jiang Yanli after Wen Ning rips her husband’s heart out someone who is in mourning.

Actually, Wei Wuxian, you dumbass, he is in actual mourning, actually, for you. Dumbass. He probably packed away all of his blue outer robes 16 years ago and only takes them out occasionally to reminisce about that nice date you had on your mountain of corpses.

On his way out the door Wei Wuxian manages to find a red ribbon for his beautiful hair, so things are looking up.

Where to go next...hey I know, how about that one haunted mountain with the killer statue, you know, the one that all my executed friends and child came from? That’ll be fun and a great way to put the past behind me!

Episode 02 Restless Rewatch is here!

#fytheuntamed #the untamed spoilers #the untamed gifs #the untamed #restless rewatch the untamed #tw: blood #tw: suicide #chen qing ling #cql #c-drama #bl drama #canary3d-original #the untamed memes #my gifs

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thedevillionaire · 3 years

Text

The Twentieth

Okay. ~5,000 words of Underworldian stuff that happens. Well, primarily one thing, really, but not all at the same time. Sort of. Ask me anything, thank you so very much for reading, and...well, here we go.

--- This was not at all how he’d planned for the day of their anniversary to unfold.

In the back of his mind, in corners he’d quite deliberately not lingered for a moment longer than absolutely necessary, he’d known that trouble was possibly oncoming as early as the night before last, the descending fog of nascent illness as recognisable as it was unwelcome. But it had been…at least a year, perhaps close to two, since he’d last felt this way, and he was hoping that he was wrong, and that what were seeming like potential signs of bad news weren’t actually signs at all.

They were.

Cerberus sniffled.

It wasn’t supposed to go like this. He’d tried, he really had. Discounting those signs as unimportant even as he took precautions because of them, he’d risked nothing, pushed his luck with nothing. He’d even gone to bed several hours earlier than usual last night, and fallen asleep almost immediately on top of that. Unlike his bonded, who’d had a late night and come home at some uncertain hour from one of those social catch-up things she so enjoyed that he was…less inclined towards, even in times when he was feeling entirely well – not that he’d given that as the reason for his disinclination to participate, of course.

Hardly relevant, anyway.

And he’d slept soundly enough that he’d not woken to notice her join him – in fact, he’d been so sapped of energy that from the moment the warmth of the hearth and bedcovers enveloped him, he was out – which just made it all the more ominous that he’d woken feeling like he’d got no rest at all, bone-tired as if no respite had been granted, with a constant, dull headache that so far had refused to resolve, and yesterday’s mild discomfort at the back of his throat sharpening significantly into an active and intrusive concern.

Getting caught in that ridiculous downpour on the way here wouldn’t have helped matters either, he thought bitterly. Although brief, it had been intense, and sudden, and heavy, and though the mercy of Teleport could not have been a more welcome escape, the short time spent in headblurry indecision about whether or not he should utilise it had nonetheless been long enough that his coat had been soaked through. The refuge of the radiant heat of his Office was helping somewhat, at least, and most of his clothing had dried by now – though his hair, which he’d tied back with a loose bow of slender black velvet ribbon to keep errant strands from his face, was still noticeably and uncomfortably damp against his neck. Less so than had he left it unbound, but still…

If he’d ever regretted choosing to walk rather than taking the lazy option before – gods, the damn irony of thinking that the walk would possibly benefit him tonight, of all things – he was sure he’d not regretted it as much as he did right now.

He sniffled again.

Fuck.

---

Closing the folder of Requiem’s surprisingly competently done assignment, he sighed and added it to the small stack of completed works, vaguely wondering if he’d been too generous with the grading. Although he knew the content backwards and could in fact get away with paying very little serious attention, his mind was nevertheless, for the most part, almost entirely on other things.

This was supposed to be the night where, once respective regular mundanities and commitments were out of the way, he would take his beloved to indulge in whichever of the things she most loved to indulge in while on a Visit, utterly at her behest, and completely guilt-free for her with no mandated set goal to achieve, no limitations on immersion, no regulations at all; just an unscheduled and spontaneous trip to the mortal plane, a high-end cocktail bar all dress codes and decadence, and a veritable array of delicious, oblivious Takings there for her pleasure – ahh, darkling, a smorgasbord! – all eyes upon her because nobody, not in the Underworld and certainly no mortal, can compare, and despite his usual personal antipathy towards bothering with the mortal realm, he knew of certain excellences all the same, and he’d put his own preferences aside and simply present her with the glories and spoils she deserved, watch her dance from the shadows and delight in it.

Darkling, I will give you the world.

He’d had every intention of doing precisely that.

And it was also really starting to feel like he was definitely not going to…not going to let this happen, damn it. You’ll be fine, stop putting unnecessary emphasis on transient discomfort, it’s nothing, you know these things pass, just…

He sniffled again, more sharply this time, claimed another tissue and blew his nose, trying to disregard how doing so did nothing much to stop the continuing drip and irritation.

Just get on with it. Honestly. Vaporising the tissue, he took another sip of the honeyed tea that wasn’t doing nearly as much to counteract the sting in his throat as he’d hoped it would, and returned his attention to the job at hand. He noted with distaste as he opened the new folder that yet again it seemed that Hellion hadn’t bothered to proofread the simplest of…

Oh gods.

His breath caught, thoughts ceased, focus helplessly crumbling.

“Hh-hh…”

He rolled his eyes at the inevitability of it, and grabbed another tissue, and another, as the insistent need made itself unstoppably and urgently known.

“Hh-TSCHH-uu! *snff!* Huh-TSSCHH-uu!”

Therion, across the room and in the midst of cataloguing a stupidly confusing array of recently rediscovered and yet unsorted secondgen scrolls, glanced back over his shoulder at Cerberus briefly. “Gesundheit,” he commented offhand, not remotely surprised by this development. Given the constant sniffling that had been going on for the last couple of hours or so, he’d pretty much been expecting that to happen sooner or later. No matter how infrequently the Demon king may catch cold, symptoms were symptoms. Sounding like shit there, boss, he thought, but decided against voicing it.

Cerberus managed a quick thankyou before the demanding urge once again overtook him, and he inhaled deeply, desperately, the force of the sneeze almost doubling him over.

“hhh-AHHTSSCHHUU!”

Therion glanced over again. “You okay, man?”

Cerberus, with a strong sniffle, cleared his throat and made an incidental sound of dismissal. “Mm, fine,” he murmured, which he knew at this point was a complete lie, his head pounding. “Pardon me.” He blew his nose, sniffling again immediately. Ugh. “It’s, um…it’s nothing.”

He returned his attention to Hellion’s paper.

It was, however, no matter his assurance, becoming undeniably something.

Fuck.

---

The hours had somehow simultaneously dragged and flown by, some goals achieved, others – and, to be honest, the ones he’d most been counting on – unfortunately not so.

Cerberus sighed heavily, put aside the last of the assignments he’d reviewed, and, having had quite enough of honeyed tea for one day, poured himself a substantial glass of cognac from the decanter on his desk.

On the plus side, he’d got through a decent amount of the papers, all things considered. On the minus, though, his oncoming cold, rather than resolving into the insignificance he’d hoped for, had instead settled in undeniably, pouring into his head like cement, and he pressed the back of his hand firmly against his nose with enough force for pain to overtake irritation. He vaporised yet another bunch of used tissues, sniffling again, and tried to take his mind off Kia and what she might be thinking, expecting, dreaming, anticipating…

..and what he feared he was not going be able to deliver.

Acceptance of such, however, was still not something he was willing to entertain quite yet.

Damn it, it’s one night. Surely you can at least delay this ridiculousness for one more night. With a lengthy, determined sniffle and heavy exhalation, Cerberus, elbow on desk and hand against forehead, lost himself in a mix of annoyance and self-pity for a moment before an intense rising fury at the situation overtook it, and he frowned, sat up straighter, and drained the glass of cognac entirely.

Do. Better.

With a brief shake of his head, he rubbed his nose and opened the next assignment in the pile, read the name. Ah, Cenotaph, he noted with a slight satisfaction. Shouldn’t be dreadful. Although he nearly always…

His thoughts were jarringly interrupted by the intrusive ring of the telephone, and despite him dearly wishing he could palm this off to Therion, the phone was on the desk, and proximity demanded he be the one to answer. And to make matters worse – apparently that’s possible, and of course it is – he could feel the rising, inexorable need to sneeze again.

No. This is not happening. Just… The idea of being defeated by such a simple, base physical weakness infuriating, he sniffled with sharp determination, crushing a hand clutching a tissue against his nose, and answered the call.

“Demonics.”

Aera took a moment. “Cerbie? Okay, wow. What are you doing in Office?”

I…work here? Cerberus couldn’t quite parse what her intention was, what sort of answer she was expecting. Was that rhetorical, or…? “I don’t… What do you…” He sniffled again, his breath catching momentarily, but he fought the urge back once more, and tried to concentrate on the matter at hand. “What?”

“‘Debodics’,” Aera said in mimicry of the congestion destroying his consonants, her tone flippant and biting at the same time.

Frowning in annoyance, his patience worn thin enough as it was, and in no mood to engage, Cerberus snarled a curt, “I’m fine,” and wiped his nose.

Aera scoffed. “You’re seriously going the denial route? Hate to break it to you, but you sure don’t sound fine.”

“Do you have a point?” Cerberus asked tersely, internally cursing his inability to comprehensively prove her wrong – not that she was necessarily wrong, but that was hardly the issue.

“Godssake, Cerbie, you’re such a…” Aera began, but recognised she was probably wasting her time and decided to just let it go. She knew his pattern with this sort of thing, and so she backed off a little – though by no means completely. “Okay, fine, alright, I could be wrong, maybe you’re not sick after all. So, you know, if you’ve been crying or punched in the face or something, go right ahead and clear that up for me.”

Cerberus, exasperated and increasingly distracted, just wanted an end to it all. “Damn it, Aera, can you please try to tear yourself away from the apparently fascinating state of my health for a moment and just tell me what the hell it is you want? *snf!* And you could be a bit more pleasant to me, you know,” he added pointedly. “It is my anniversary, after all.”

Aera gasped lightly in realisation, the date having escaped her notice completely. “Oh, shit, it is too! Ah, fuck, sorry, happy anniversary. But, no, anyway, this call does actually have a point. I think I might have left a scarf in your Office yesterday. Do you have it? It’s blue.”

You couldn’t have just asked that immediately? Cerberus glanced around the Office perfunctorily, not seeing anything of the kind. “N…” His breath caught again and he scrubbed his hand roughly under his nose, sniffling sharply, and took a moment before trusting himself enough to answer her. “No.”

“Really? What the hell have I done with it, then?” Aera wondered, partially to Cerberus but mostly to herself, before returning her attention to the conversation at hand. “Oh, and bless you.”

“What?” Cerberus frowned in confusion, his head clouded enough that he wasn’t entirely certain that he hadn’t missed or forgotten something that surely he ought not to have been able to miss or forget. “I…I didn’t sneeze.” It was…inescapably true that he needed to, but he’d not…

Aera chuckled briefly, quietly. “You will.”

She hung up.

The freedom afforded him by that disconnection, one staggered, desperate inhale was all it took. And in the moment, he didn’t even care that she’d been right. At this point he just wanted relief.

“hh-HH… Ahh-HEHTSSHhuu!”

“Gesundheit,” said Therion again, smiling grimly to himself. He usually minded his own business about this sort of thing – not that it came up much – and indeed still considered staying out of it altogether now. But he hadn’t known about the anniversary factor before, and playing substitute Leader for a few days was hardly the worst fate in the world, and if not tonight it was almost certainly going to come to that fate soon enough anyway, so…

He put the scrolls aside, walking over to stand opposite where Cerberus was seated at the desk. “Hey, man…”

“Huh-AHSSCHuu! *snf!*” Cerberus groaned. “Gods. Excuse me,” he murmured with a heavy sigh, his head and sinuses throbbing. He sniffled wetly, blew his nose, excused himself again, and looked up at Therion somewhat hazily. “Mm?”

Therion half-smiled, casual, non-committal. “Happy anniversary, dude. Didn’t mean to listen in or anything, just…you know. Overheard.”

A small smile of appreciative thanks crossing his face, Cerberus sniffled again and nodded in otherwise silent acknowledgement.

“Just a thought, though,” Therion continued. “If I had a choice between going home to my mad-hot bonded… How many years now, man?”

A heartbeat. An eternity.

“Twenty.”

“Fucking what?!” Therion stared at Cerberus as if he was out of his mind. “Fuck, man! Congrats and shit, but for real? If I had a choice between going home, like, immediately or staying in Office for a few more hours marking shit I could pretty easily get my Understudy to do, actually? I’d be out of here in a fucking microsecond. But, you know, you’re the boss, man. Do whatever. Just saying.” Reaching across the desk, he picked up Cenotaph’s paper and scanned its contents quickly. “I mean, this looks pretty good, I guess, but, you know, Kia probably looks better.” He grinned as Cerberus gave a dark smile in response, and paused only for a short time, but enough that the pause be noted. “Seriously. You know she’d spoil the fuck out of you.”

Cerberus sighed again, regret, bitterness and castigating self-reproach evident in his eyes beneath a haze of sickness he really could no longer deny. Yes, I know, of course I know, but... “The spoiling really was suppo… hh-HH…” He hastily took another few tissues from the box, burying his face in them just in time to catch another fierce sneeze he had no chance of stopping. “AHHTSCHUU! Goddamnit. Pardon me.” He wiped his nose, sniffling again immediately – disturbingly liquid, entirely ineffectual, and with a weariness behind it that he could not disguise. Looking back up at Therion, he returned to his point. “I’d really intended the providing of spoils to be my job tonight. And this…utter ridiculousness—” He made a vague gesture towards his face. “—was supposed to have improved, not worsened, damn it.”

With another heavy sigh, disappointment palpable, he capitulated. “I don’t suppose you keep any cold medication in Office, do you?”

“Sorry.” Therion shook his head. “Go the fuck home, man. I got this.”

Standing, Cerberus nodded briefly in reply, giving Therion a firm pat on the shoulder as he passed by. “Thank you,” he said quietly, and vanished.

---

And naturally half the damn Underworld seems to be here.

Well, he most certainly was not going to queue.

Ignoring the mixture of hushed mutterings and soft gasps from the others in the Healing centre – none of whom he recognised but it was evident from the expressions on the faces of the…many people staring at him that the reverse was not the case – Cerberus walked to the front of the line with only the most cursory of glances at those who he had no intention of waiting either for or behind, greeted Riviera at the front desk perfunctorily and, abruptly beyond caring to hear any more of the continuing intrusive sussurance, froze the entirety of the waiting room’s occupants under Stasis with a crisp wave of his hand.

Dear gods, shut up. I will set you all on fire and I won’t regret it for a second.

He sniffled strongly. “Aldiss, please,” he said to Riviera, who had already Mindsent the Healing Leader in anticipation of precisely that directive.

“On her way,” Riviera replied. She indicated the Stasis-held others. “Um, is that…are they…?”

“Entirely temporary, just expedient. I’ll undo it soon enough.”

Aldiss appeared beside Riviera at the desk, Mindsending her :Cover me for a bit. Room 5, burns, not serious, mostly dealt with already,: and Riviera duly vanished.

At a loss and clearly awaiting clarification, Aldiss turned her attention to Cerberus. “Alright, what are you doing here?”

Cerberus frowned. Why is everywhere I am apparently a surprise tonight? “I’m ill, obviously. Why else would I be here? I need cold medication.” He sniffled again, as if in emphasis, though not intentionally so, and wiped his nose.

“Again? Already?”

Again? There IS no again. I literally just got here. What the hell is going on? Cerberus briefly wondered if he could be hallucinating this entire sequence of events, so little of it seemed to make any coherent sense. “What do you mean ‘already’?” He winced as his voice cracked, and he cleared his throat, which did little more than cause him a different kind of discomfort, a convulsive cough following in short order, his nose running again as a result. He sniffled sharply, repeatedly. Gods. For fuck’s sake. “Excuse me.”

“I’m not giving you anything more if you’ve taken the other lot already.”

“Damn it, Aldiss, do I sound like I’ve taken anything?!”

Aldiss did have to concede that point.

Thoroughly exasperated, Cerberus exhaled heavily in annoyance. “Why is everything always such an ordeal in this place?” And suddenly another strangeness occurred to him. “Wait – what other lot?

“The meds Kia picked up, obviously.”

“What?!” Cerberus, a fresh fear striking him – one he was entirely unprepared for, one that actually managed to distract him from his own discomforts for a moment – stared at Aldiss in unconcealed horror. “Kia’s unwell?!”

With a wry smile, Aldiss shook her head. “I swear I never personally get to experience it, but rumour has it you’re actually quite a clever man, Cerberus, so try and stay with me here, alright?” She looked at him with a certain sardonic encouragement. “The meds Kia picked up for you.”

Unfortunately, this didn’t make much more sense to him, if at all. “But what reason would…” He sniffled again. “Why would she do that?” He rubbed and wrinkled his nose against a building itch, took a tissue from the box on the desk, then another, and tried to stay focused.

Aldiss, in mildly amused bafflement that he could actually be this oblivious, stared at the Demon king as if he was a complete imbecile. “Because you’ve got a cold?”

Annoyance clearly evident despite the hitch in his breath, Cerberus frowned at her. “Yes, Aldiss, we’ve established that, but Ki…Kia doesn’t…” Ah, fuck. Bringing the tissues to his face as the itch became sharply definite, he turned away hurriedly. “Huh-ATSSCHH-uu!” He groaned, sniffling immediately, the force of the sneeze bringing to the fore anew the pulsing headache he’d almost, almostbeen able to forget, his breath still a little shaky as he excused himself. He claimed another tissue and wiped his nose, sniffling again, and took a moment before returning to his earlier point. “Kia doesn’t know about *snf!* this yet.”

“Yes, she most certainly does,” Aldiss countered. “What, you didn’t think she’d notice?”

“Well, of course she’d notice now, damn it, Aldiss,” said Cerberus in open irritation, “but I wasn’t nearly this…”

“Oh, for god’s sake, Cerberus. How long have you been together?”

“As it happens, it’s our twentieth anniversary tonight,” Cerberus replied, a bitter and rueful undertone unmissable despite increasing congestion, “which I am attempting not to completely ruin.” Another sharp sniffle. “Apparently a futile pursuit,” he muttered resentfully, and pressed the back of his hand against his nose in an attempt to see off a newly threatening, vibrantly insistent itch.

“Twenty years and you think she’d miss a thing? She knows you. She knows you really well. How do you not…”

“Ahh-HEHTSSHhuu!”

Aldiss sighed as Cerberus, thoroughly losing the battle, sneezed again, wetly and powerfully, and she passed him a handful of tissues as he murmured both an apology and a thankyou. Looking out at the significant number of people yet to be seen, she allowed him some necessary moments of recovery, then made her point. “Listen, I’m sorry you’ve managed to catch cold for your anniversary but you do have both medication and a devoted bonded waiting at home. Please go there. Kia’s probably wondering where the hell you are anyway, since – if I can I remind you – she knows you’re sick. Oh, and you can undo your…stopping people in time thing or whatever it is now, too, thank you very much.”

“As always, Aldiss, it’s been a delight.” Releasing his Stasis hold with a short wave, the murmurs and mutterings picking up precisely where they’d been cut off as if there had never been a break, Cerberus turned his gaze briefly upon his unbidden rapt audience, disregarded them all equally, internally cursed himself for having even bothered to come to this ridiculous place, inclined his head in crisp farewell, and promptly vanished.

---

Leaning back against the loungeroom wall in weary resignation upon his Teleported arrival home, Cerberus stopped still, his attentions resolutely redirected in an instant at the entirely unexpected sight of his beautiful lifebonded reclining languorously across the couch, dressed – or almost dressed, it could technically be said – in diaphanous babydoll chemise and finest lace lingerie, soft brunette darkestness falling silkenwild around her shoulders, a vision of breathtaking boudoir fantasy he was quite thoroughly unprepared for, and he paused for a moment to simply gaze at her, enchanted.

:Darkling, you are perfection.:

Kia looked up slowly, and with a sultry, indulgent smile, dropped her book onto the coffee table and stretched before sitting up just a little, beckoning him to join her with crooked finger and open invitation.

“Took your time, sweetheart,” she said, gently teasing, and opened the bottle of cognac, pouring a glass for them both. “I’d almost decided to start without you.”

“Love, I…” Cerberus began but was torn from his words unstoppably, unable to do anything about the sudden, desperate need overtaking him, and, expression crumpling and focus destroyed, he had no choice but to give in to it. “Huh-TSCHH-uu! Ah-HEHTSCHuu!” He pardoned himself with haste, groaning quietly.

“Aw, bless you, hon. Come here.” Kia repeated her beckoning motion. She regarded him a moment, frowning in puzzlement. “Where’s your coat?” She’d not seen him leave the house this morning, but she was entirely certain he’d have worn one.

“Hmm? Oh, um…” Cerberus sniffled, wiped his nose and glanced down at himself, not having given any particular thought to his outfit – his standard fine linen shirt, brocade waistcoat, tailored black pants – since leaving Office.

Which was, of course, where he’d left his coat.

“Got rained on. Earlier, that is, not… A while ago, anyhow.” He sniffled again and tried to focus. “In Office. The coat, I mean, not where the…rain was.” He sighed in exasperation as anger at the situation overtook tiredness again. “Honestly, it would be nice if I could at least form a damn sentence!” Gods, what the hell is wrong with you. Get your damn shit together. “Sorry, love. I, um…used Teleport after that, though, so I’ve not really been outside since.”

“Well, coat or not, you were supposed to have given up and come home ages ago.” Kia laughed gently. “You know, like a normal person. Why are you always so stubborn about this stuff?” She caressed his face affectionately as he sat beside her, curled an arm around the back of his neck, and kissed him with warm promise. :And don’t you even dare say a word about not wanting to give your cold to me,: she Mindsent preemptively. :Yes, I know, no, I don’t care, and there is no way I’m not kissing you on our twentieth anniversary.:

“Anyway,” she continued in satin murmur, tracing a finger along the angular contours of his jawline and kissing him again, “you know I’ll spoil you.” She looked at him directly then, sapphire eyes narrowing in challenge. “You do know that, right?”

“I…” He did, but between the desire not to need her to – at least not tonight – and rather for him to be, as he’d so very much intended, the one fulfilling any fantasies, and the desire to just try and forget failed plans and expectations and immerse in her…frankly stunning sanctuary, and his head was far too clouded to explain himself right now, and technically he had left Office early anyway so he wasn’t that late really, especially considering he hadn’t realised that he’d been expected, but what did any of this even matter when this goddess before him was so…very… He sniffled again, claiming a tissue and wiping his nose firmly, and wished he was at least a little more functional because she was so incredibly breathtaking, and that was all he could think about in the moment, really, aside from feeling like he was fairly sure he was going to sneeze again – which, when combined with the first and…infinitely preferable reason that he couldn’t think straight, provided a particularly strange contradiction in where his attentions were directed, and now he couldn’t with certainty remember exactly what she’d asked him anymore, and she was just…gods, she was everything, and his head was a mess and he…definitely had to…

He blinked rapidly, his breath hitching in escalating intensity, and turned from Kia to bury his face in crooked elbow. Gods, fuck, just…

“Huh-TSSCHH-uu! Ahh-HUHTSSHhuu!”

The force of the sneezes combined with the pounding throb of sinus-heavy headache to set the room spinning, but despite that had done very little to quiet the insistent irritation he just could not seem to escape tonight. Another staccato breath and fuck ano… hh-HH ..another and a Mindsent apology because he was entirely unable to voice one, doubling over in thrall to desperate demand, powerful, possessing. “Hhuh-AHTSCHUU! Huh…hh-TSSCHH-uu!”

“Oh, sweetheart, bless you.” Kia indicated the medications she’d collected on the table, though she wasn’t sure there was much point, his ability to focus entirely and…mesmerisingly hijacked. “You should probably…”

Cerberus, with a brief shake of his head, held up a finger in a gesture indicating that she had to wait a moment, the relentless need not done with him yet, and he inhaled deeply, unable to do a thing about it other than succumb once more, and he sneezed again – undeniable, absolute, violently ferocious. “Hh-hhAAAHTSSCHHUU! ..uhh…” A quiet groan and he pressed the back of his hand against his nose, sniffling fiercely, more than a little breathless. “Damn. Sorry.”

“Wow, bless you!” Kia said with softriveted, emphatic appraisal, and flashed him a wickedwarm grin. “Impressive. You should get a prize for that kind of effort.”

“Gods, love.” Smiling wryly despite himself, Cerberus managed a brief disbelieving laugh before having no choice but to give in to sharpburning sensation, his breath catching abrupt, deep, jagged, pleading. “hh-h-huh-TSCHH-uu! Huh-TSSCHH-uu! *snf!* Huh… huhhTSSCHHUU! For fuck’s sake! *SNFF!* Ugh, sorry.” Sniffling repeatedly, he excused himself again with clear irritation even as Kia offered him a tender blessing. He took a fresh multitude of tissues from the box and blew his nose, muttering under his breath that in any reasonable world he’d get to kill at least one person over this, and if…

“Oh, look!” announced Kia with cheery brightness, breaking into his thoughts and picking up one of the medication vials. “You win drugs.” She handed the vial to Cerberus with a kiss to his cheek, effectively short-circuiting his rising fury at the situation, and trailed a languid hand down the length of his arm, dropped her voice to a sultry purr. “I’ll even throw in the glamorous assistant.” She semi-curtseyed, winked in play.

With a soft laugh and a sigh both appreciative and self-effacing, Cerberus accepted and took the meds as proffered, curling an arm across Kia’s shoulders, drawing them closer together, and leant his head against hers, Mindsending a heartfelt, sincere :I adore you.:

“I’m so sorry, darkling.” He ran an index finger under his nose, sniffled quietly, exhaled with dismayed heaviness at the thought of having let his beloved down, in any way. “I really did mean to give you everything you desire tonight.” He sat back again; smiled at her, a little sadly. “And I truly do wish to bring you the world you deserve. All the worlds, come to that.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I know. And I know that you’re, like…literally able to do it, which still just amazes me and will forever, I swear, you’re incredible, but…really, you don’t need to be disappointed. See, I want you—” Shifting her position smoothly, Kia moved to sit on his lap, her legs astride his, and caressed his face in her hands, kissing him with passion burning. “Mmm. I want you—” Another kiss. “—to think for just a minute—” And another. “—from a different view.” Reaching behind his head, she untied the velvet ribbon constraining his hair, allowing it in release to cascade over his shoulders. She wove a gentle hand through freed midnight, tucked a few stray strands behind his ear. “If things were reversed, if I was the one who’d come home sick tonight, what would you have done?”

Cerberus chuckled wryly, softly, as he recognised her viewpoint. He didn’t pretend otherwise. “Anything you wanted, love, as always.”

Kia gave him a knowing smile. “Mm-hm.”

Wrapping her arms around him, she kissed him again, slower, deeper. “So, then, babe,” she purred, tracing a trail of kisses down his neck, shoulders, chest, “you should know that you are everything I desire, everything I dream of, and the only way you could ever let me down is to not be with me tonight, and now I am going to order you into the bedroom and you are going to do exactly what I say and that is pretty much what would have happened even with you in perfect health with your perfect plan, because you should know—” She broke off again, kissing him with a craving undeniable, abandoning speech for silksultry Mindsend.

:that all I want:

One hand now twining through his hair, the other first toying with then smoothly untying the topmost bows on her chemise, allowing it to fall away, and she pulled him closer to her again, deepening the kiss at his involuntary resulting moan.

:is…this.:

Another kiss and her hand reaching down, loosening clothing and caressing him to urgency, and he moaned again, curling one arm around her waist and another behind her head, holding her around him and returning her kiss with a fire straight from his soul, feeling her breath quickening, demanding, as she pushed back against him, heat rising. A soft growl, a gasp, a sharp inhalation as they joined together, and she met her beloved’s famed emerald gaze eye to eye, consummate, profligate, incendiary.

“Oh, and sweetheart? Tonight I am going to make you wish you caught cold more often.”

---

#inopportune timing mm-hm count on it #snzfic #my writing #my OCs #cerberus #cerbia #cerberus and kia #and she's absolutely right 😉#bit of a slow burn but we get there #supernatural soap opera

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riseatlantisss · 3 years

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Fighter

Anon Request : “Heyy !! If you’re still doing this, I’d love a Witcher one-shot where he trains the reader to sword fight ! The reader feels outmatched and Geralt is harsh but patient. Could u also make it a little flirty/fluffy ??? Thanks <3”

So sorry to be so late on this but I hope you like it !! Request are still open :)

You never understood why Geralt chose to train you to fight. You are not a Witcher nor any other ones of those fantastic great beings one can find on the Continent. The reason, however, turns out to be quite simple….

1,4K words - Geralt of Rivia x gender neutral!reader

Low key inspired by this quote.

English is not my first language, please excuse the mistakes.

Your back ached from the hard blow you just received. Actually, your whole body ached. Yep, sword practice with a witcher will do that to you, you thought as you struggled to get back on your feet. The sun was beating down on you. You wanted to give up and tell Geralt you reached your end. But you knew it would not make a difference. Geralt was many things. Indulgent was not was of them.

“Let this be a lesson,” Geralt announced with authority, “never turn your back on an enemy.” You turned over to see him towering you. He pulled you up on your feet with ease.

“Are you alright? I’m sorry, I did not realize how hard I struck you.” His apology was sincere. You rubbed your back but refused to let him know it actually hurt. Instead, you just nodded and smiled. I can do this.

“Good.” Geralt responded. “Pick up your sword. Let’s do that again.” He walked away and halted at a distance of ten paces. He drew his sword and pointed it right at you, ready for another round.

“Now remember. You must keep your stance composed at all times. Without balance you might as well be unarmed.” He explained, waiting for you to step into position.

You clumsily picked up your wooden sword, pointing it towards the Witcher with a novice-like apprehension. You did your best to stay focused despite the pain and tried to anticipate your opponent’s next moves. You never were good with weapons, swords, all that stuff. Your greatest chance not to bite the dust a second time was to use your brain. And you did that quite well, incidentally.

“Now, try and block my swings.” Geralt ordered.

You remained silent, trying to analyse his posture, the direction of his feet, the breeze of the wind, anything that could give you a hint on what was going to happen next, really. He’s going to run towards me in a few seconds, but he will jump on the left at the last moment, not on the right like last time, you thought, adjusting the orientation of your sword slightly to the left in preparation.

Before you could continue your thinking any further, Geralt moved towards you, jumped to the left - as you anticipated - and brought his sword to your side with force and control. Somehow, you managed to knock the blow back with a shaking hand.

“Good!” Geralt said, encouragingly. “Now, let’s see if you can hit me.” You could hear the mocking invitation in his tone. Fearing the imminent humiliation of trying (and failing) to defeat a Witcher and experimented warrior, you tried to talk your way out of this situation.

“Don’t you think it’s a little unfair?” You asked, “I mean, me, a human who can barely hold a sword up, against a Witcher? You could kill me anytime you want just by casting a spell on me, may I remind you.”

“You’re not outmatched because of my abilities, Y/N.” Geralt said, as if it that would make you feel better. “The only way for you to improve is to train. Out in the wild, a beast or a foe won’t give you this opportunity.”

“So be it.” You responded sarcastically, “Let the beast slay me. That’s one way of getting some rest.”

Geralt chuckled. However, he wasn’t going to let you off the hook that easy. “Come on Y/N, stop joking around and show me what you got.”

You gripped the sword with both hands and raised it above you head. You threw yourself towards your instructor as you brought the weapon down with all your might. You did not even see the Witcher step out of the way. The wooden blade of your sword finished its course on the ground, making you lose your balance along the way. Out of breath, you fell down to one knee, feeling the fatigue of this training session surface all at once and take over your body.

“Nice try,” Geralt said above you, reaching out to help you up, once again. “But too bold. You must keep your strikes disciplined. You hand me an opportunity to strike back on a platter. An enemy would not have hesitated.” He walked away a few meters, turned over and faced you. “Again.” He simply said, indifferent to your obvious discouragement and exhaustion.

“It’s no use,” you mumbled, still trying to catch your breath. You sat on the ground and put your head in your hands. You weren’t even able to look at him, too afraid to see disappointment in his eyes. “We both know I shouldn’t be here.” You continued, “I’m not a Witcher. I am not a sorceress. I’ll never be a warrior. I’m nothing…” Tears started to roll down your cheeks, but you refused to let him know you were crying. You felt embarrassed enough as it was. Long seconds passed. At one point, you even thought that he had left but when you finally found the courage to look up, there he was, sitting beside you. He just stayed there for a few seconds, quietly looking at the horizon. Expressionless. It was impossible to know what he was thinking. Was he staying out of pity? To tell you he was disappointed? You weren’t even sure you wanted to find out.

“You know,” Geralt finally said after a long silence, “in my life, and as a Witcher, I run into dilemmas. All the time. Situations where it’s hard to judge, hard to know what’s right, make a decision.” His voice was different now. He had this reassuring and calm tone you so rarely heard from him. No sign of hardness or authority anymore. “When I met you, there was no dilemma. I knew right away that you deserved to have a chance and to show the Continent what you were capable of.” You looked at him in surprise, taken aback by his words. “You think I am training you to make you a soldier?” he asked.

“Why else could you waste your time with me?” You responded, still avoiding his gaze.

Geralt shook his head. “I train you because I want you to be able to defend yourself. Life on the Continent is tough. I want you to become as fierce as the enemies you are bound to make.” He paused to look at you and lifted your chin up with a gentle hand. Your eyes were still glowing with tears, but at this point, you didn’t care if he noticed. “The real truth was that I could not stand to lose you, Y/N.” He was still looking at you as if he was going to say something else, but he didn’t. You were speechless. All this time you thought he trained you to fight to hand you over or even sell you to the Royal Guard or to some rich Lord. You thought he couldn’t wait for you to become somebody else’s problem. He always seemed to be so severe. So serious. But it turned out he cared? About you? You couldn’t believe it. You were wrong on so many levels. You opened your mouth to protest but he didn’t give you the time.

“You fear I will judge you? I won’t.” He said, helping you up a third time. You could hear that familiar harshness in his voice coming back. But this time, it did not scare you. It gave you new strength. “You think you are not strong enough? You are. You have all the weapons you need, Y/N. Now, fight.”

You weren’t crying anymore or avoiding the Witcher’s gaze. You were looking straight into his eyes, feeling an emotion you thought you would never feel again: determination. His words resonated in your mind. He cared for you. More than that: he believed in you. That was all the motivation you needed right now. You have all the weapons you need. You thought as you drew your wooden sword, pointing it up to your instructor, ready to strike. Now fight.

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jincherie · 4 years

Text

tentacledipity | six

➛pairing: jimin x reader ➛genre: alien au, space au, soulmate au, wanted au, smut, light angst ➛rating: m ➛words: 9k ➛warnings: cheeky shenanigans on the outskirts of the palace grounds, smut, vaginal fingering, light nipple play, squirting,light dirty talk, light angst ➛notes: I cannot believe this one long scene is fucking 9k, I’m out of control. Anyway! Here’s the relief you’ve all been waiting for!! There aren’t any tentacles yet but it will be worth it when they finally arrive FJBHGHV. p.s. this does have a read more!

This tale starts, as any good fiction does, with a girl crash landing on a foreign planet. And, like any good fiction, it follows a theme of serendipitous happening, and tentacles. Behold, serendipity and tentacles— or dare we call it…. tentacledipity.

— posted; 30.04.2020 // ↞ prev. || six || next ↠

In the entirety of your life, you’d probably been truly nervous approximately… three times.

The first time was when you were a child. On a trip to the store with your guardian at the time, you’d wondered off to the section that had all of the rows of sweets and candies in clear boxes with scoops so that you could make your own mixed bag. Even when young, you were apparently still very self-indulgent at your core, and a little too quick to entertain the urges flitting through your gut. Urges that were also a little too quick for your brain to catch and filter them. You loved candy, or more specifically you loved Purple Planets, something like a gobstopper that changed flavours with each layer of the candy that wore down in your mouth. These little candies were the equivalent of magic in your eyes, and the second you caught sight of them in that row you wanted one. Of course, you’d wondered too far from your guardian and they weren’t nearby for you to ask them. That was when you got the urge, the sinful little whisper in the back of your mind that maybe you could just sneak one—taking a single candy couldn’t hurt anyone, could it? You quickly decided that no, it couldn’t, and reached in and swiped one of the orbs with nimble hands. You threw it in your mouth straight away, and when you looked up you met eyes with a cranky-looking older woman that had evidently been staring at you the whole time. She’d leaned over the boxes and whispered to you, “You’re going to go to jail now. The guards are on their way.”

Understandably, you’d run away to find your guardian after that, too young and trusting of adult authority to realise that woman was just being nasty and old. You’d been so nervous while leaving the store, clinging to your guardian, that you’d nearly passed out. Of course, no one was waiting to arrest you outside the store like you feared, and once you were on your way home you decided you hated old people because they’re mean and liars.

The second time you truly felt nervous was when you were leaving your home planet for the first time. By that point you’d become more than disillusioned with Earth, but still… you worried that leaving would be a decision you’d regret, and that the life in store for you beyond its atmosphere wouldn’t be anything like you hoped and dreamed. You were also, understandably as a first-time flyer, nervous that something would go wrong as you left the planet and the ship would blow up, or something along those lines. That, of course, didn’t happen—and you quickly decided to never be nervous about anything like this again because you really didn’t like the feeling.

Which brought you to the third time you’d ever felt decidedly nervous—which, incidentally, happened to be right now.

You were standing outside Jimin’s room, impressed with yourself that you managed to find it but unable to enjoy the pride for the nerves currently rioting in your stomach. Why you were nervous, you couldn’t quite pinpoint—you were reluctant to even attempt it because you had a feeling that you weren’t going to be too fond of the reason you unearthed.

You had no idea what he’d called you here for – possibly part of the cause for your nerves – and so hadn’t known exactly how to dress. It was a hot, humid night though, something that persisted even despite the breeze that filtered through spacious halls and bare windows. So you’d simply worn one of the singlets you’d brought with you to this planet (a nice change from the usual high neckline of kelkie dress) and some of the loose, satiny pants that have slits up the side of the legs, all the way to just below your hip. You’d assured yourself it was a practical choice and not just one you made because your most base instinct is to seduce a certain alien.

You also had to do some guesswork on what was meant by ‘midmoon’, and went with the assumption that it was like midday but for night time—so midnight. You really hoped you weren’t too wrong with this one because if you were late you had a very strong feeling that Jimin wouldn’t let it go for a long time. Which was something you decidedly didn’t need, considering how pissed he’d seemed earlier this evening.

This, you’d realised, was probably a big factor in the rare appearance of your nerves—apart from the fact that Jimin had never been truly angry at you before, you also had no idea what had pushed him so far earlier that he looked so pissed. He was angry and had called you to be at his room at midnight and you had no idea why. You decided that just this once you couldn’t blame yourself for being nervous, especially when you recalled how many times you’d joked about finally making the kelkie snap. You sincerely hoped that this wasn’t karma, but you weren’t feeling too optimistic about it considering how much she’d been riding your ass lately.

A while ago you’d turned your gaze to the window in the hall that opened onto Jimin’s gardens, wanting a distraction and finding it in the luminescent foliage that glows beneath the moonlight. You didn’t realise just how out of it you were, standing there staring into the untamed beauty of Kilkea’s flora, until a voice sounded beside you and you honest to god almost jumped right out of your skin.

“You’re on time. Good, I won’t have to track you down.”

“Holy FUCK, Jimin!” you whirled around, hand flying to your chest and wide eyes finding him quickly in the almost-dark. Your cheeks heated at the squeak you’d let out in fright before, and then further at the way the alien’s eyes were boring into you, dark and swirling. His gaze raked across your collarbones and then up the length of your neck before it settled and met your own, a trail of prickling heat rising in its wake across your skin. “Please don’t scare me like that, humans can die of fright, you know.”

His brows rose, the intensity of his eyes lightening slightly and allowing you to breath. “I did not know,” he murmured, taking a step closer and sending your nerves haywire once more. “I will keep it in mind, petal.”

You tried not to watch his mouth as he spoke, but his pillowy lips proved too much for you to resist, especially when he was this close. Swallowing, you tore your eyes away and attempted to get some sort of control back in this situation.

“So, uh…” You began, trying to take a step away as discreetly as possible. You weren’t as successful as you might have hoped, his eyes tracking the movement easily. “Why did you call me here? At this time? I’m sorry about the whole, uh… thing, earlier. It wasn’t on purpose, I promise. That bastard Seokjin kicked my stool—”

Up until you mentioned Seokjin, Jimin’s expression remained so neutral that you might have been inclined to believe that he’d forgotten, or at least forgiven, the incident entirely. As soon as the other male’s name fell from your lips, though, something like irritation flitted across Jimin’s features. As soon as you noticed it, you snapped your mouth shut; you decided you probably shouldn’t push your luck too much tonight. You know, for survival reasons.

“There is something I have to do,” he said, cryptically. His brow quirked and in the next second he was turning on his heel and beginning to stride away. “And since you made such a mess of helping out earlier, I figured that you may as well make yourself useful where I can see you. Come, this way. We’re going outside the palace.”

You were confused and also kind of turned on at how bossy he was being; hastily you started after him, attempting to keep up as best as you can. True to his word, he was leading you in the direction of one of the exits that sits in the back of the palace, near the kitchens.

“What do you—uh, I mean we, have to do that we have to leave the palace?” You asked, arms swaying as you walked. He had a quick stride tonight, not as attentive as he usually was to how fast he was going in comparison to you. You feared that by the time you reached your destination, wherever that may be, you’d be a dripping, sweaty mess.

Jimin hummed, as though he was pondering whether to give you the answer or leave you hanging; you liked to think you were getting better at reading him, but you wouldn’t put any money on it. He turned his head slightly, eyes catching your own over his shoulder—if it weren’t for the magnetic draw they currently had to them then you might have been hypnotised by the shimmering mauve colour of his marks instead.

Actually, there was a lot about him tonight that threatened to distract you completely. His arms were out, sleeveless silken shirt hugging each curve and dip of the muscles in his back; the material of his pants did a fantastic job of emphasising his behind, too. The last one was almost your undoing when you were so focused on your observation that you nearly missed the words he threw your way.

“A lot of the plants on this planet present a beautiful front during the daytime hours, but some only truly bloom beneath moonlight.” Jimin turned the next corner that approached the second he finished speaking, almost losing you in the process. You had to hurry to catch up to him, glimpsing an amused quirk of his lips as you did so. Bastard, now he’s just being a pain. “There are some fruit we need to harvest for some of the dishes on the menu for the celebration. They sit on the furthest reaches of the grounds, almost outside of them, and the fruit are only revealed at night.”

“Oh,” you said, thoughts rushing to catch up before getting caught on one thing in particular. You wondered, did this mean there would be pies on the menu? Oh, you hoped so. The chefs in the palace kitchens really knew how to make good desserts, and you didn’t doubt they could take any ingredients they wanted and turn it into a mouthwatering dish. Gods, you were so excited already that you swore you just felt your stomach rumble.

You followed Jimin out of the palace and onto the grounds, the two of you finding one of the stone paths and proceeding down it. To your credit, you didn’t bother him all that much, for once. He seemed to notice, if the curious looks he was shooting over his shoulder every time you were silent for more than a few minutes were anything to go by.

Although, to be fair, it wasn’t just your fantastic self-restraint that you had to thank for your sudden ability to shut up for more than a few minutes at a time; you were, for a majority of the walk, caught up in looking at the scenery around you. Just as you mused earlier, you didn’t think you’d ever get sick of looking at the environment here. The luminescent hues and hypnotic patterns that trail along branches and swirl across leaves and petals; it’s breathtaking, and you’d never get used to it.

Despite the fact that you’d actually listened earlier and therefore knew that you were heading to the edge of the palace grounds, you were still surprised by how far out the two of you were venturing at this time of night. You weren’t scared, had no reason to be, and your surroundings were actually illuminated nicely by moonlight and the glow cast from crystals and stones that line the edge of the path, so you didn’t have to worry about stumbling or anything like that. It added to the magic of the moment, if anything.

You thought it couldn’t get any better, or any more beautiful, than this, but you were quickly proven wrong when you trailed after Jimin around a curve in the path and came upon a dead-end of sorts. You audibly gasped at the sight before you, rooted to the spot in awe—you don’t even notice the weight of a gaze on you. “Oh my gosh… it’s so pretty…”

In front of you was a clearing of sorts that backed onto a looming cliff face, lush shrubbery peaking over the ridge, the descent covered in thick, curling vines that glowed turquoise and emerald beneath the moonlight and danced jubilantly in the breeze. The flowers that bloomed across the cliff were rosy, petals curling back like lilies and speckled with bioluminescent blue, but at the very centre of the flowers was a fruit that you instantly longed to put in your mouth. It appeared like a blackberry, but supersized—it was plump and juicy looking, and if you had to guess you’d say it would probably be about the size of your hand.

Surprisingly enough, the fruits weren’t the first thing to catch your attention. No, that was the waterfall that split the cliff face to the right, shimmering waters flowing into a large, deep lake at the base. Black pebble-like stones lined the shore, and larger obsidian chunks jutted into the water along its girth. The way the water danced beneath the moonlight almost had you well and truly hypnotised, if it weren’t for the sound of Jimin’s voice breaking through your thoughts.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it.” He hummed, and you didn’t realise he’d begun to walk away until you turned and caught him moving to the side. Any questions you might have had as to why were quickly answered when you saw him procure two woven baskets from a weathered table by the cliff. He turned back and halted when he saw you in the same position as before. “Come on, petal, these aren’t going to pluck themselves into our baskets.”

Cheeks flushing for some reason unbeknownst to you, you hurried over to take one of the baskets in his hold, following him when he moved to the part of the cliff closest to the table and furthest from the lake. Well, you decided that you didn’t really have any reason to be so nervous earlier. Yet another reason to banish the emotion from your being.

“These are pippura,” Jimin informed you when you approached him, looking to make sure that you were listening. You offered him a bright, shit-eating grin to reassure him and he rolled his eyes before turning back to the vines. You caught the way his lips had quirked before he did, though, and filed it away in your victory drawer for later gloating. “They only grow on cliff faces near running water—we are lucky enough to have such a place as this on the grounds. If we didn’t, then we would have to venture much further to procure some.”

“Are they special?” you found yourself asking, swinging the basket around your wrist idly and then stopping immediately when he sent you a warning glance. “I mean, are they important for celebrations?”

“They are used in a lot of traditional dishes that feature in celebrations such as this one,” Jimin confirmed, muscles of his back shifting as he reached to grab one of the fruits hanging a little above his head. “You will be happy to know that many of those dishes are desserts.”

He was right—you were happy to hear that. You couldn’t stop the stupid, excited grin from slipping onto your face at the thought of all the delicious possibilities you were going to be able to try for the first time. If these fruits tasted as good as they looked, then you were going to be in for a good time.

Jimin might have been somewhat tense at the beginning of this little venture, but as the two of you went about plucking the vines bare of their fruits and filling your baskets with their bounty, he seemed to ease into himself a little, growing a little more playful and a little more sassy. Which is to say, he returned to the Jimin you knew and loved. Of course, the second you noticed this, you were unable to help yourself from resuming your usual shithead antics. You poked and prodded at him playfully with a few verbal jabs, all of which either got you a small snort and a grin, or a look loaded with tension and restraint. It was exhilarating—you didn’t realise just how much you’d missed this! Granted, it hadn’t been all that long since you’d been a thorn in Jimin’s side, but you were a simple girl who enjoyed the simple things in life.

It was still a humid night, and although the breeze did help some in keeping you from overheating, you still found yourself casting longing looks towards the water behind you. Gods, it had been so long since you last swam—now that the idea was in your head, you couldn’t get it out. Of course, that idea followed the path in your brain that most thoughts take these days, and your gaze flicked from Jimin, to the water, and then back to Jimin. No… you shouldn’t. You only just got back in his good graces, you didn’t fancy another near death experience today. But still…

You couldn’t rid the thought from your head, trying not to let your scheming show on your face. Jimin was a lot sturdier and a lot stronger than you, so the only way you’d even be able to get him in the water by surprise would be to full-body tackle him. You didn’t think you’d come out of that unscathed. Still… the longer you stewed in the humid air, the weaker you found yourself becoming to the idea. By this point, you knew you were going to end up going for a midnight swim in that lake, it was just a matter of whether you were going to be able to convince Jimin. Well, admittedly your definition of ‘convince’ was becoming looser by the minute, so the nature of Jimin’s impending entrance into the lake was, at this point, very subject to change. There were a number of scenarios playing out in your mind’s eye.

It was when your basket was nearing overflowing, and you grabbed one last fruit a little too hard and landed yourself with a hand covered in sticky berry juice, that you had an idea. The juices were an odd, shimmery dark blue and seemed eager to stain, just like the berries you knew from earth. Fantastic. You shuffled closer to Jimin, who had become so enraptured in the task by this point that he didn’t even pay you any mind. You were planning on pretending to trip, but karma had its kiss for you and you ended up actually tripping on a rock on your way to him, like a loser. As regrettable as it was, it did get the job done all the same.

“Oh shoot—sorry!” As would be the natural instinct of any red-blooded woman, you’d reached for Jimin’s bicep when you fell and ended up bursting the fruit against it, spilling its juices all over him. You did feel a little bad, despite the fact this had been your plan all along, but you were more surprised when instead of recoiling like you’d expected, Jimin had whipped around and attempted to catch you from tumbling to the ground instead. You didn’t have time to relish in the resulting flutter of your heart, because he quickly realised what you’d spilt on him and proceeded to send you an exasperated look.

“Are all humans such trouble? You are almost as clumsy as Namjoon,” he remarked, but you caught the twinkle of amusement in the darkness of his eyes as he righted you to your feet.

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that,” you informed him, before pulling out your most innocent smile. “And at least there’s a lake here to wash off in!”

Jimin’s eyes flicked back over his shoulder, taking in the body of water nestled against the cliff. He hummed for a moment, before shrugging and letting you go to place his basket down and make his way over to the pebbled shore. “I wouldn’t need to wash off if you had watched where you were walking, petal.”

You rolled your eyes, watching for a moment as he slipped his boots off, placing them by one of the rocks wedged into the shore and proceeding to roll his pants up before stepping into the water. You snapped yourself out of your staring—now was the time to strike!

“Is it cold?” you asked, trying not to betray your intentions as you slipped your own shoes off and began to creep over. He was bending slightly, trying to scoop some water into his palms, and if you had to hold yourself back from being a bastard a second longer you were going to combust.

“Of course not, it’s lovely,” he muttered, somewhat absentmindedly. His marks shimmered neutral blue as his fingers swirled through the water. Now that you knew you weren’t going to make him freeze to death by pushing him in, you had no qualms acting on the urge that had been bothering you for the better part of the last ten minutes.

“Oh, good,” you remarked, before taking a moment to accept the very real possibility of death after this. As soon as you were at peace with it, you disengaged your rational thought machine and enacted your plan. Quick as you could, you darted across the grass and planted your hands on Jimin’s butt with all your strength (not! For the reason one might be thinking! It was a purely strategic move to make him most unbalanced), miraculously succeeding in pushing him off his feet and, subsequently, into the water.

“Y/N—!”

The way he just barked your name in shock made you as excited as it did scared for you life—although, if you were being honest, the line between those two had been getting more and more blurred lately. Tumbling into the rippling waters of the lake he went, deep enough where he fell that for a moment he was completely submerged. You couldn’t help the laugh that tore from you at the sight, but it quickly tapered into an alarmed scream as he burst back to the surface, absolutely drenched, and sent you a murderous look.

You’d been intending to get in right after him, but perhaps it would be more prudent to run while you still could—

“You little—” Jimin’s sputtered words were all the warning you got before he launched towards you, tearing through the water and up the shore much, much faster than you had ever anticipated. You yelped, spinning on your heel and scrambling across the pebbles, stumbling in your attempts to flee before he reached you. Of course, as you knew from the second he locked eyes on you after exiting the water, you hadn’t stood a chance of getting away; you would never be a match for his sheer speed and strength. You barely got three steps in before two strong hands snapped around the small of your waist, water seeping into your shirt where his fingers pressed into the material.

“You are such a pain,” he chastised, twisting you and throwing you over his shoulder so quickly that it almost made you dizzy.

“Aw, come on, it was an accident! I’m sorry!” you lied through your teeth, scrabbling for a grip on the drenched shirt that was sticking to his every line and curve like a second skin. “Let’s be rational about this—”

Smack!

You yelped, back curving slightly as your hand flew to your ass in shock, the likes of which was now smarting as a result of the firm smack he’d just delivered. Your entire face flushed with heat, brain flatlining as the raven-haired alien carried you back towards the lake; the sight of the grass growing further and further away, along with your chances of survival, was very condemning.

“Be quiet and accept the consequences of your actions like a good girl, petal,” Jimin said, voice so low and raspy it was almost a purr; you couldn’t see his marks from this angle but you were dying to know what colour flushed across them when he said that. You felt your stomach drop and butterflies swarm to replace it, giddy anticipation tingling up your spine. You didn’t know if you were in a place emotionally where you could deal with being this horny right now.

You made one last attempt at pleading for mercy, “I didn’t know that you’d fall in! I thought you had more balance than that! It’s not my fault youAAAH—”

Evidently, Jimin was not in a merciful mood. He didn’t even wait for you to finish talking when he reached mid-shin in the water and promptly threw you from his shoulder and into the depths. It happened so quickly you could do little more than yelp before the water cut you off and you were sinking below the surface, the lake so cool against your overheated skin that you almost let out a blissful sigh before catching yourself just in time. Your feet found the smooth, pebbled bottom and you propelled yourself back up, breaking the surface with an affronted gasp. “Hey! That was rude! Do we even know how dirty the water is?”

At this point you were just being annoying, but he simply rolled his eyes before trapping your own in his gaze, the heat contained in the dark pools making you shudder. He began moving towards you, striding back into the lake like a predator, so smoothly that the most the water did in response to his entrance was ripple around his legs. “It’s not dirty,” he informed you, a sly look crossing his features for the barest second. “There is a certain type of algae in here that means it is self cleaning—actually, the algae is part of the reason why the pippura vines grow here.”

You launched yourself backwards as he grew closer, spouting off little tidbits of information like he wasn’t currently in the process of cornering you in the lake; your arms couldn’t seem to propel you fast enough, because each second you spent splashing about frantically he gained on you. By the time he was about a metre away from you, the water was up to his ribs and he looked like he was preparing to pounce. So, you did the only logical thing you could think of in that moment, and used your legs to kick a massive splash of water in his face.

It smacked him dead on, drenching his hair once more and making him sputter, hands coming up to wipe water out of his eyes. His marks shifted rapidly, from rose to teal to petal pink and then back again. You didn’t know what it meant, but you knew your time was running out.

“y/n,” he said, voice low as he flicked water from his face and levelled you with a heated look, lashes wet and sticking together. “Didn’t I just tell you to be a good girl?”

His words made your stomach flip and a shiver roll down your spine, and yet you were too proud to let it show. Instead, you offered him an innocent expression and a flippant, “Oops?”

That seemed to set him off.

You spent the next few minutes cackling as he attempted to grab you, apparently much less graceful in the water with slippery pebbles beneath his feet than he was on land. Something about games with a chase, like tag, just made your blood sing— and from the glimpse you got of his lively expression as he tailed you through the water, the feeling was mutual. You didn’t know how long you managed to evade him before he caught you, but it was long enough that your pride remained safe by the time his hands landed on your shoulders and you were promptly dunked beneath the surface. When you returned for air, you splashed him for cover and made a break for it once more. Fun, it was so much fun it felt like you were floating in your elation.

Every time you would just barely manage to slip from his grasp with a mad giggle, you’d hear a laugh of his own tumble into the air, the sound downright melodic and so decadent against your ears you immediately did everything you could to hear it again. This was a side of him that you’d hand to wrangle out with your bare hands, but damn if it wasn’t worth it to see the way his eyes shone and disappeared into crescents with his smile.

Of course, though you were incredibly gifted in many areas (not to toot your own magnificent horn) stamina sadly wasn’t one of them. Jimin might have been engineered for speed, agility and athletic grace, but you most definitely weren’t. It was only a matter of time before you grew too tired to continue fleeing as well as you had been up until that point.

“I give up! I surrender!” you announced, proceeding to flop backwards and float, almost panting. The water had cooled you down greatly but it was still a warm night and Jimin was unfairly fast. You’d been kept on your toes the whole time.

“I am surprised that you lasted so long,” he mused, sinking down in the water until it was up to his neck. The mirth had yet to fade from his eyes, his marks still glowing an exuberant teal that fluctuated between bright green and cyan.

“I’m full of surprises,” you informed him, still somewhat breathless. You shifted from your floating position, treading water lazily as you leaned back and sent him a cheeky look. You just needed a moment to recharge, then you’d be giving him a run for his money once more.

Jimin hummed, breaking the hold he had on your gaze for a moment to glance up at the sky; your breath caught in your throat at how beautiful he was in that moment, raven hair an unruly mess and water still dripping down his skin, freckles luminous and the entirety of his form bathed in the kind of moonlight that made him seem ethereal. You snapped out of it a second later, propelling yourself slightly behind him so he wouldn’t catch you slipping if he happened to look down.

You’d only meant to hide your face and the current heated nature of your cheeks from him, but as you floated behind him your goblin brain, of course, came up with another idea that would rile him up. You weren’t sure if you should enact it so soon, when you hadn’t even caught your breath completely yet, but you were also aware that he wasn’t going to be distracted much longer, especially when it was you in his company. By this point he’d learnt the hard way to keep his eye on you.

Twisting your body in the water smoothly so that your feet braced against the bottom once more, you prepared to jump. You needed to get a good grip, or else he would throw you off too easily and that would be nowhere near as fun.

Throughout the whole time you were plotting that move, you forgot completely about what lined the skin of his lower back— you were soon to be reminded, however, when you proceeded to pounce on him from behind and he stiffened immediately in your hold.

Your legs wrapped around his waist and your arms around his neck, but he was more slippery than you accounted for and you had to fight to keep your grip. This, of course, meant that you were pressed that much tighter against his back.

“You��” he seemed at a loss for words for the briefest moment, stuttering slightly as his hands whipped to your thighs.

“Boo!” you announced belatedly with a ruffle of his hair, even as you felt your grip begin to slip. Well, it seemed it was time to cut your losses and jump back into the water— you were completely prepared to do so, until he twisted slightly beneath you and you slipped prematurely.

Having expected to fall back into the water, you were surprised when Jimin managed to turn in your grip and scoop you into his hold, saving you from an abrupt reunion with the surface of the lake. It didn’t do much for the state of your heart, however, when you realised that now you were clinging to his front, legs around his waist and his hands supporting you at your ass and thigh. Uncharacteristically— or rather, quite characteristically since this was Jimin you were dealing with— you were at a loss for words, reduced to simply blinking at him with wide eyes and mouth slightly ajar in shock.

If the position alone hadn’t been enough to send your heart racing, then the way he was looking at you would have definitely finished the job. His marks were flushed deep, dark rose, and his eyes were so intense as they bore into you that you felt goosebumps raise across your skin. You felt oddly… vulnerable, for a moment, but you didn’t have time to ponder that realisation before his lips were quirking slightly in something like triumph.

“You are full of surprises,” he agreed, head tilting slightly; water lapped lightly at your skin and it took you a moment to realise he was moving towards the cliff, near the cluster of large, obsidian rocks that skirt the edge of the waterfall. “But you are also very predictable, petal. You pulled the same move twice.”

Huh, well. Maybe you did! What’s it to him?! You opened your mouth to express just that, but all that came out was a squeak when his hand shifted its place on your thigh and slipped through the slit in your pants, palm cool against your heated skin. For a moment you forgot how to breathe— this was just like what you told Seokjin. Going from nothing to a lot of something, just wasn’t a situation you were equipped to handle!

“Oh,” you managed to say, finally. He seemed amused at your fluster, and you were willing to bet that he was probably enjoying the way the tables had turned since you’d first arrived here. Cocky of him, but hot nonetheless. You just called it as you saw it. “Well, maybe this was my plan all along, and you played right into it. Victory goes to me, peach cheeks.”

His brows rose, apparently thinking it very bold of you to be bringing back that pet name when it was you currently at his mercy, as much as you might have currently been trying to make it seem otherwise.

“Your plan, or mine?” he asked softly, holding your gaze as he halted and you felt cool rock press against your back. You shivered, unable to help it, and he let out a pleased hum. You didn’t know what you were expecting, but it most definitely wasn’t for him to rock his hips forward, grinding against you and pinning you to the rock all at once. The gasping noise that came out of you was kind of embarrassing, but he didn’t seem to think so.

Once more, he had you at a loss for words as you attempted to process his utterance amongst the pleasant, heady sensations burning through you. It didn’t help your ability to think either, when his hand slipped from your thigh to trail up your side; with bated breath, you felt it as he dragged his fingertips over your ribs, skirting the underside of your chest before dancing up your sternum, where your neckline ended and his fingers met your skin. It wasn’t all that much, but the action alone had been enough to leave a trail of gooseflesh in its wake. When his gaze flicked down momentarily, you were slightly embarrassed to see that his wandering hand had also elicited another unwitting reaction from you, your nipples standing beneath the material of your shirt. Wearing a bra tonight would have been prudent, but you hadn’t exactly accounted for this, had you?

This felt surreal, almost. For however long and loudly and explicitly you had expressed your desire for him, for some reason you hadn’t ever counted on being in this position. It was almost like you had to acclimatise yourself to it, but you didn’t have time to ease yourself into the scalding heat of his touch and the sinful burn of his gaze against your skin. You had been fully immersed and molten desire was devouring you whole.

His fingertips had remained at your sternum, but his gaze flicked along the column of your neck and it wasn’t long before his hand followed suit. Over your collarbones, the dip of your shoulder where it met your neck, and then up the column of your throat. His touch was gentle as his thumb settled under your chin, fingers slipping into the hair at the back of your neck, and ever so slowly he tilted your head backwards so the expanse of your neck was bared to him.

Your gaze now centered on the stars, your breath hitched when a hum drifted through the air and he nosed along your neck, the occasional brush of his lips against your skin eliciting shiver after shiver. Of course he would enjoy toying with you, not that you could blame him.

He didn’t make you wait all that long, though, before his pillowy lips finally pressed to your skin over your pulse, soft and silken as a petal. You didn’t doubt he could feel, if not hear, the way your heart was racing right now.

“Always so bold,” he murmured, pressing his lips directly over your throat, and then to your collarbones. You could barely breathe, feeling dizzy from just his proximity alone. “But you’re awfully quiet now, petal.”

“Can you blame me?” you said, eyes fluttering closed as you felt his tongue brush against your skin. “I’m only— only one woman—”

Your ability to speak ceased completely when his teeth made an appearance, scraping ever so tantalisingly against the junction of your neck and shoulder. He hummed against you, pulling back a moment later.

“Look at me.”

With his grip beneath your chin eased, you tilted your head back somewhat dizzily, head a little hazier than before.

“I want you to answer me seriously when I ask these,” he said, and there was no room in his tone for any of your usual cheeky behaviour. You nodded obediently, holding his gaze and watching as his marks shifted colours hypnotically.

“Do you want to feel me?”

He rolled his hips, a prominent bulge grinding against your core and making your nerves tingle to life as he did so. You nodded, breath catching and your hands coming to grip his arms.

“Do you want me to touch you?”

His hand drifted from your throat to your shoulder, finger slipping beneath the strap of your shirt and waiting. You nodded, more fervour in the movement this time, and slowly, oh so slowly, he dragged the strap of your singlet down over your shoulder. He seemed to be attempting to hold himself together too as he continued the movement and pulled the rest of your shirt with the strap, peeling it from your chest until it slipped beneath the curve of your breast and bared it to his gaze.

Almost with a sense of reverence, the back of his fingers brushed along the swell of your breast, forefinger coming to trace around your areola before his thumb finally shifted and swept across your hardened nipple. You had all the time in the world to prepare for it, and still you were unable to help the sharp mewl you let out in response, heat flushing across your face and chest. Jimin’s dark eyes flicked back up to your own, lips parted ever so slightly as though in awe. Idly, his thumb continued rolling your nipple, the sensations making your thighs clench in their grip around his waist; instinctively, his hips rocked into your own, and you registered in the back of your mind that something smooth was brushing against your feet.

The two of you had drawn closer without even realising, his eyes hooded slightly as they bore into your own from beneath damp lashes.

“Do you want to kiss me?”

For a moment, your heart stopped. This time you didn’t nod, the whisper escaping you of its own accord. “Yes.”

He didn’t need any more confirmation beyond that. Before you could blink he was dipping forward, fingers digging into your ass for a better grip as his lips finally met your own and the heat swallowed you whole.

When his mouth moved against yours, lips just as plush and pillowy as you’d dreamed, it was as though something shifted, snapped into place within you. There had never been an absence or a void inside you, and yet the second his lips caught your own in a kiss, it was like something had returned home. Like your insides before had been messy and muddled, and he had brought clarity and order and everything had fallen into place.

You sank into each other like clockwork, every move of his lips and tongue against your own all but stealing the breath straight from your lungs. So inebriated in the touch, smell, taste of him were you that you hardly batted an eye at the sensation of something thick and firm curling around your ankles and up your legs.

Suddenly emboldened, you nipped his bottom lip with your teeth, before sucking it into your mouth; the groan that escaped him in response was guttural and low, hips rocking into your own roughly. He only let you play for a moment, though, before he was reclaiming control of the kiss and the situation in one go.

“So eager,” he gasped a moan when he broke from your mouth to suckle along your jaw. “The smell of your desire is so strong, petal— intoxicating…”

You should have been embarrassed to discover he could smell your arousal, but at this point you were beyond shame. He nipped and sucked along the column of your throat, each one wringing out a new, special noise from you just for him. You forgot to keep track of the rest of him until you suddenly felt his hand shift, fingers toying along the waistband of your pants.

“I’ll give you what you want…”

In the next moment his grip had shifted and he was lifting you up with ease, placing you onto the surface of a rock just to the side; from this position your hips were at the same height as his shoulders. He wasted no time adjusting his position, moving closer and slipping your pants down in such a fluid movement that you were reeling for moments after. You felt no shame in being almost completely bare before him, not when he was slipping your thigh over his shoulder and easing forward, looking at you as though mesmerised by what he saw. It was a heady look that swirled in his eyes, molten and promising. As he moved closer he rose slightly, almost hovering over you and pushing your leg back to your chest.

His mouth parted, words on the tip of his tongue but unable to pass as he simply drank you in. The fingers of his free hand came to trail up your slit, collecting a generous amount of slick as it did so. The look Jimin then gave you was full of such heat that you almost felt lightheaded; the sensation of being completely at his mercy was absolutely intoxicating.

“So wet,” he murmured, pushing his finger a little deeper between your lower lips and making your hips cant up slightly. It was like he was no longer even aware of the words tumbling from his mouth. “So pretty… I wonder how well you would….”

You weren’t left wondering what he could have meant for long; in the next second he was pushing a thick finger to brush your entrance; the anticipation alone was almost too much for you, more arousal gushing forth to greet his inquisitive touch.

“Jimin,” you gasped as his thumb brushed your clit by accident, the noise making him double back and go again. “P-please…”

He met your eyes, and for a moment you thought he might have made you ask for it, might have made you beg, but to your surprise a small smile slipped onto his lips and, without a word, he pushed his finger completely into you.

Of course you were so absolutely turned on by this point that there wasn’t a stretch, but the sensation alone of being filled, even a little, was so delicious that you didn’t even have the presence of mind to try and squash the abrupt, keening moan that escaped you. You hadn’t realised how much you’d ached to have something inside you before now, clenching around even a single finger like a wanton whore.

Jimin swore in his native tongue, groaning at the tightness you offered. He pumped once, twice, finger a torturous drag against your walls as he did so until he added a second finger and was rewarded with more unwitting noises from you.

“Fuck!” You gasped as his fingers curled, searching for something along your walls that it didn’t take him long to find. He seemed all too pleased to have found your sensitive spot, and that knowledge in combination with the way he began working his thumb over your clit as he pumped his fingers into you was what ultimately spelt your doom.

“Does it feel good, petal?” he asked, breathless. When you nodded, he rewarded you with a third finger— the noise you let out in response was positively sinful. Pleasure thrummed along your limbs, burning beneath your skin and turning your bones to magma. So much pleasure throbbed in your core at his slow, purposeful strokes that you felt like you were going to lose your mind.

And then he decided he wanted to pick up the pace.

Your hands scrambled for purchase as he began to fuck his fingers up into you in earnest, each pump slamming into you and ending with his fingers curling into your g-spot and making colours explode behind your eyelids. You didn’t realise your eyes had closed until you felt something soft brush your chest and they shot open— only to flutter closed once more in the next second as Jimin’s lips wrapped around your pebbled nipple and he sucked it roughly into his mouth.

“Jimin—!” The words caught in your throat, “F-fuck, please d-don’t— don’t stop—”

Jimin’s fingers weren’t long, but they were thick, and the sensation of them dragging against your walls again and again and again was absolutely heavenly— but the way he stimulated your g-spot with each roll of his wrist drove you absolutely mad. You weren’t one to usually reach your end all that quickly, but already at his ministrations there was a ball of tension forming in your stomach, more and more ready to snap with each sharp jolt of pleasure to your core.

Jimin trapped your nipple between his teeth, tugging it lightly before releasing it and moving his mouth to your ear. “Let go for me, petal. I want to feel you unravel around me.”

A low, heady murmur dripping with desire and promise. He returned his mouth to your chest, and you didn’t even have time to tell him you were close before he hit the final nail into your coffin.

While he’d been maintaining long, precise strokes before now, he suddenly shifted tactics. Within the blink of an eye he began fucking his fingers into you that much harder, that much faster— but it was the combination of his fingers pressing into your g-spot and his thumb rolling your clit that sent you well and truly over the edge.

The coil within you snapped and you gasped out his name in a lilting moan as your orgasm burst forth and you came hard, pussy clenching around his fingers like a vice as your back arched off the rock in the woes of your pleasure. Even so, he continued to fuck his fingers into you as you rode out your high, only stopping when you placed a trembling hand against his chest and tried to squirm away from overstimulation.

It took a moment for you to come back to your senses somewhat, gaze centering back on Jimin; you were surprised to see droplets glistening along his arm and across the damp silken material of his shirt, but quickly realised with heated cheeks that he’d actually made you squirt. He didn’t seem to mind; if anything, he seemed to approve, expression strained as he gazed over the mess you’d made of him.

As he gently slipped your thigh from his shoulder and set it down, giving you a quick rinse with the water before slipping your pants back down, your ability to speak finally began to return to you.

“H-holy fuck…” you murmured, slipping from the rock and back into the water as soon as your pants were back on. It might have been a mistake to move so fast, though, because your legs were jelly and you almost dipped beneath the surface were it not for Jimin’s hands coming to brace you. You fixed your top as you looked at him, taking in the tension riddling his firm and the shadows swirling in the water behind him— now, of course, you recalled a certain predicament that affected him. You read the heat and desire still burning in his gaze and moved forward, slipping your hands to his waist. “Now, to return the favour—”

To your surprise, the alien halted your movements, shaking his head. Your confusion was only increased when a light smile slipped onto his lips. He closed his eyes a moment, taking a deep breath, and you caught it from the corner of your eye as the shifting shadows in the water behind him began to still and slip out of sight.

“It’s okay, I will be fine,” he assured you, tone soft and just as airy and mellifluous as ever. “We should really be getting back.”

“Oh… ok.” For the third time that night, you were rendered speechless. Except this time, it was out of sheer confusion. He placed a hand on your back, guiding you from the lace and back up to where you’d left your baskets; thankfully, a part of you reflected as you emerged from the water, the material of your pants was comfortable and unlikely to chafe even while dripping with water.

As you retrieved your baskets, Jimin offered you a somewhat strained smile, before tilting his head in the direction of the castle. “Let’s go, petal.”

And then he turned and simply began on his way back, leaving you to follow and trail behind him distractedly. Something twinged behind the protection of your ribcage, replaced only by a sinking sensation that settled and weighed down your stomach and didn’t leave for the entire duration of your trip back to the palace.

The high you’d felt earlier was quick to fade in the wake of Jimin’s odd behaviour. He’d literally just fingered you to completion, you should be euphoric right now. And yet… for some reason, it felt as though something had been carved out of your gut and left a gaping hole in its wake. He wasn’t even being mean— hell, he’d smiled at you! Twice! So why did you suddenly feel so...down?

You struggled to entertain a plausible reason for Jimin’s odd behaviour, but you were coming up dangerously blank. In the wake of it all, you couldn’t stop the self-destructive thoughts you usually fought off so well from slipping in amongst your thoughts.

Had he done it just to get you off his case? Had he just been… humouring you?

The thought of it made you feel sick.

The trek back to the palace passed in the blink of an eye, and before you knew it Jimin was easing the basket from your grasp and you were in front of your door. The walk had dried you off enough that now the only true reminder of what had happened in the lake was the current damp and unruly state of his hair and the way his marks had been stained dark maroon ever since leaving the clearing.

“Thank you for your help,” he murmured, drawing your gaze to his own at the sound of his voice. “Go and get some rest, petal.”

With that, he leant forward and pressed a soft kiss, the barest brush of his lips, against your temple. Your heart suddenly hung heavy in your chest, stomach wringing in tumult. You watched him pull back and begin to move away, words caught in your throat.

“Goodnight.”

He was gone before you managed to say it back, disappearing into the darkness of the hall like a shadow returning to the night.

Returning to your own room had you vulnerable, the walls a chamber for your sudden loneliness to echo back and hit you in the face. You tried to brush the feelings aside; it was fine. You were tired and overthinking it, reading too much into the little things.

After all, if he didn’t like you then he wouldn’t have kissed you on the forehead.

...Right?

a/n: as always i hope u enjoyed,, tysm for waiting so long and for reading!!! lmk what u think and whether u enjoyed with a like or rb,, it helps keep me going lol. thank u i love u!!! <3

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#jimin smut #bts smut #jimin x reader #bts au #bts series #jimin series #alien au #alien jimin #alien jimin x reader #jimin x reader smut #tentacledipity #my work #wanted au #space au #tentacle smut #fun right #jimin fanfic #bts fanfic

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curedigiqueen · 3 years

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This year I spontaneously watched Appmon nearly 2 times, and I have thoughts about it. And what better way to acknowledge it than on its 5th Anniversary. (Or 4th anniversary of Our Singularity). I'm planning on at least covering my thoughts on the main 5 kids this month, in an order based 100% on who I want to talk about first.

It's Astra.

I think Astra is generally the least liked Appmon character, or perhaps more accurately, is the character I see the most disdain for. And, honestly, I can understand where it comes from. But he’s my favorite Appmon character actually. In a cast with a non-conventional protagonist, a blackbelt idol, and a hacker, Astra’s “Apptube” is well, just kind of there. Like a more modern version of Eri’s idol career. His personality is clearly meant to be representative of the target audience, the group whose number one career aspiration is Youtuber. So, he’s kind of cringy and kind of annoying, especially to an adult audience. I get it. But Astra’s a character I found to have a lot of stuff going on.

I admittedly tend to have a soft spot for the babies of any team, especially if they are assertive enough to keep up with their seniors. And Astra does fit the bill. He’s generally seen to be on equal footing with the others, and his rather aggressive way of talking to the other doesn’t exactly make you think baby of the team. He doesn’t use honorifics, and in general Astra’s referred to in the same terms as Haru and Rei. (As near as I can tell, anyway with my nonexistent Japanese skills, correct me if I’m wrong). The fact he’s in elementary school is a bit more incidental than anything.

We learn the most about Astra’s family and upbringing compared to the other characters, and it is central to his arc. We get a lot of information straightforwardly in the show. He had a lot of pressure on him as the heir to the school, and felt pressured to act the part of the perfect heir. Throughout the show we see him struggle with the pressure of being the heir. As a child he was extremely dedicated to following his father's footsteps. He didn’t seem to see himself as anything other than the heir to his father's school. He seemed set apart from other children, seemingly due to the closed-off way he acted. This dedication to being a good heir was to the detriment of his happiness. Until Musimon came into his life allowing him to loosen up and seek his own happiness. Classic stuff. But Astra is a little more at war with himself than may be obvious by his “annoying” attitude.

While we first learn about Astra suppressing his own eccentricities, in his debut episodes, it’s not until later that we learn about his mother, and learn that this side of his personality didn’t come out of nowhere. His mother is very similar to him, which gives us the question of why he ever became so disciplined in the first place if his behavior isn't out of place in his family, and his mother is a strong advocate for him doing his own thing. In fact, Astra seemed initially a bit embarrassed by his mother when he introduced her to the other Appdrivers. Of course this is almost certainly because his mother calling his friend “pretty” and gushing about her husband and how they met is embarrassing, and even if Astra himself acts just as obnoxious. But even so, he's clearly less respectful towards her. The reasons behind why Astra calls his mother by her first name are unclear, though it doesn't seem to stem from a lack of love for his mother.

But regardless, it helps build the idea that more likely, he was trying to win the approval of people outside his immediate family. After all, as shown in episode 7, it was the assumption that Astra would inherit the school by others that prompted Astra’s response to his father. Even if Astra’s father does have a desire for Astra to inherit his position, he also understands that it's first and foremost Astra’s life to live. Astra however does have a lot of respect for his father and seems to value his opinion immensely, he recognizes that not inheriting the school would be disappointing to his father and does not want to disappoint him. So while I think there is something to be said for Astra’s behavior relating to a desire to impress his father, I don’t personally think it's the origin in its entirety.

Astra over the course of the series is very independent and marches to his own beat, Astra, like Eri, had made the first step to change prior to his introduction, but that doesn’t mean he was already completely different from the boy who acted stiff to prove himself to others. Astra’s second episode deals with him succumbing to peer pressure in his new activity, and his final episode is about not succumbing to his uncle's expectations, the old expectations that kept him down for so long. (But it's also a bit about fulfilling Hinarin’s expectations, expectations he agreed to).

Despite Apptubing being the career choice where Astra does as he pleases, his final episode isn’t about him Apptubing because he wants to but as a way to help someone else. Particularly his cousin. While it isn’t explicitly clear if Astra knows it’s his cousin the fact of the matter is that he’s helping his family through his Apptubing, even if it is something he picked up for himself. (A reasoning perhaps parallels Eri’s reasons for being an idol, wanting to bring smiles to her mom, despite it clearly being something she herself enjoys). His care for his family is exactly the reason he continues to train to be the heir, but that doesn’t mean even if he doesn’t uphold expectations that he can’t be a help to his family.

Astra’s arc deals with expectations vs. a desire to help. Astra in large part is assertive about not having to help other people out and doing his own thing, recognizing he doesn’t have to do anything he doesn’t want to. But his actions consistently betray his care for others. I think this is most evident in the way Astra acted as if he wasn’t going to help Eri out with her elections, but did so anyway, even if he antagonized her a bit in the process, but ended up being the proudest of her accomplishments. Not to mention the way he continues to train as the heir, albeit on his own terms. Over the course of the series, he becomes more open with his care towards others, culminating in the jailbreak episode, but he’s always been shown to care. He’s finding that balance between living his own life and helping others.

It’s clear that Astra doesn’t hate being heir at least. He’s extremely determined to do both. And personally, I think it’s very possible that he sees Apptubing as a hobby. He after all proposed the half-hour limit himself. Even at the beginning with his most abrasive. He dutifully kept it to a relatively small impact on his life. For all that it’s brought up as an important element in his life, and he is shown breaking his own rule on occasion without consequence. One of the longest times we see him Apptubing is when he’s helping Eri out. Of course on the flip side of that, we have episode 8 where he breaks the rule because his videos aren't doing as well as he likes, but that's definitely tying back to his desire for people's approval. While he is for lack of a better word, tempted into giving up training to be an iemoto to dedicate himself to Apptubing, it isn’t something he seems to seriously consider at all.

The biggest thing Musimon gave him was not the courage to be an Apptuber, but the courage to be himself. Indulging in Apptubing for fun is merely a small part of that. Astra is still the good heir, but he is no longer letting that define his entire life, sometimes forgoing certain parts of training. But that doesn’t mean that tea ceremony is a bad part of his life. There’s also a certain balance in his personality between the abrasive “annoying” boy at the start of the series and the passive boy prior to the show's beginning. I don’t feel that the polite Astra is completely disingenuous. Astra is capable of acting calm and grounded, and this side of himself becomes more apparent as the series goes on, particularly with Eri who, in contrast to him, throws herself into her idol career with more and more genuine passion. When he supports Eri with his videos but asks her to take a break, which tracks with what we know about his fathers working habits. It’s his final focus episode where he is shown to be acting, more in someone else's interest, and even shown to be a bit embarrassed by it. In contrast to an Astra who even in episode 19, was not taking much seriously. I think it’s only fair to say Astra did genuinely inherit some of his father's more grounded and dutiful nature.

And while earlier I did say Astra’s age feels incidental, I don’t think that is to say it has no bearing on his role in the story. It's part of the reason Eri is so dismissive of him at first, Sure, the other’s treat him as equal, and are in no way particularly protective of him, nor do they expect him to be any less capable than him. But this isn’t to say Astra’s relative youthfulness isn’t apparent when with the others at least in the beginning. Astra is definitely on the more immature side of things, he after all is the one who started the rivalry with Eri because his ego was bruised (not that Eri's initial dismissal of him was helping matters any). As I said earlier, Astra mellowed as the show progressed and I think it’s a fair assumption to say he’d continue to do so. Not that he’ll lose his energy, but that he’ll be able to act with more maturity and consideration for others. The most common complaint about him I’ve heard is “annoying”, which is understandable. But that’s not accidental, even in-universe (hah), others seem to find him to be a bit much at first at the beginning of the series. His “annoying” personality is him testing the waters beyond the role of dutiful heir he’s always played. He’s annoying because he’s an 11-year-old boy who does not always know how to act in ways appropriate to his situation. He’s the kid of the group. I do understand if that still makes watching irritating. Watching should be fun after all, but it’s more of a matter of opinion than an objective flaw.

Unlike Gatchmon, Offmon, and Dokamon whose personalities seem to clash a bit with their buddies, Musimon and Astra are consistently on the same page, after episode 8. This is exemplified in episode 29, where Musimon runs away for fun rather than because he wants something from Astra, and Astra is the only partner who seems to have not been worried, recognizing what Musimon was doing. Of course, their fight in episode 8 was about Astra not being true to himself, thus naturally conflicting with the one who is on the same page as his true self. Musimon shares Astra’s high energy but caring nature. I’m not an expert on the Japanese language by any means, but there is something notable about the fact Musimon uses “Boku” to Astra’s usual “Ore”. Musimon and Astra are without a doubt very similar, the only difference in their demeanors being Musimon is perhaps a bit less confrontational. If Musimon being Astra’s buddy says anything about Astra, it’s probably that Astra is by his nature not quite as aggressive as he seems. Which for someone who clearly used to takes people's opinions of him to heart, seems about right.

Astra’s arc is all about expectations, expectations as an Apptuber, and as the heir. Astra living up to, or disregarding expectations based on what he believes is best. Living the life he wants to live.

Some final observations from me in regards to Astra, is that he’s paired with Fakemon for God Grade. While it’s probably in part just how things worked out logistically, it also makes a bit of sense as a foil. Fakemon is constantly being disingenuous, while a huge part of Astra’s arc is being true to himself, while also fulfilling other people's expectations of him. Also of note, Entermon is described as a Digimon who exists wherever you can find culture something that is particularly relevant to Astra.

While being biracial is not directly important to the story, it’s not incidental and clearly is thematically related to him being trapped between the traditional and the modern Japan. While in story Astra’s story is simply about outside expectations of inheritance, It’s possible to read Astra prior to the series as trying to overcompensate for his foreign mother in the eyes of the people at his father’s school. This is something I find notable considering that Appmon’s assistant producer, Akari Yanagawa, went on to become the producer of 2019’s Star Twinkle Precure, a season of Precure notable for the franchise's 2nd biracial cure, whose personal arc more obviously alluded to racism than Astra's, though still very indirectly.

#appmon #torajiro asuka #asuka torajiro #musimon #digimon

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riseofthecommonwoodpile · 3 years

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I’m listening to the first episode of Maintenance Phase (which is a great podcast btw, I listened to like every other ep first lol) and it’s just making me think about my experience with the first doctor i ever had who didn’t make me feel awful for being fat, so i’m going to vomit that out here to help any skinny people know a little of what it’s like to be fat in the healthcare system. Indulgent personal shit follows:

Every single doctor I’d had as an adult, every single one, would ask what I was doing to lose weight, would point to BMI and obesity charts telling me I was a.) fat and b.) going to die soon because I was so fat. It was something I just had to let happen to get healthcare, and the most frustrating part was that I fucking knew I was fat already. OBVIOUSLY I did. Every person I went on a date with, every coworker who side-eyed my lunch, even people at the supermarket looking like they were about to laugh when I grabbed carrots or broccoli to make myself. Knowing didn’t help. I’d tried constantly for over a decade, and nothing had changed my weight in the way they wanted it to.

So, when I went to find a primary care doc when I moved to Washington, I really assumed the same thing was going to happen. I specifically wore my “lightest” clothing and shoes so they wouldn’t impact my weight too badly, and getting on the scale was legit terrifying, because I didn’t own a scale for the specific reason it felt so bad to see the number come up, and the number ended up being 284, and I almost cried, and I just knew I was about to get yelled at. I’m tense the entire appointment (and my blood pressure reads worryingly high), but she doesn’t say anything about it. We just have a normal first appointment. She says she’s gonna have me get an at-home blood pressure cuff to see if maybe it’s just the office that made me nervous.

And at the end she asked if I have any questions, and I pretty timidly ask if I should be worried about my weight, if I should be losing weight, and she just said “Nope, all your other vitals are good, we’re gonna get bloodwork done today anyways so we’ll see if there’s any issues there, but everything else looks fine to me.” and i legit started crying, and I told her how I was expecting her to tell me I need to lose 20, 50, 100 pounds, because that’s what other doctors told me, and she just listened and asked me when I was done talking if losing weight was something I wanted to do. I told her yes, and then she asked me a question I hadn’t ever been asked before by a doctor: If we ignore you not being happy with how you look at your weight, and people being rude and shitty to you, is being fat causing you any physical problems?

What a wild question to hear as a fat person! I’d literally never been asked that before. It was just *assumed* it was giving me health problems, and I just assumed that was correct, even though as a 28 year old plenty of patient people had already told me those things aren’t related that directly and concretely, that plenty of fat people are perfectly healthy, and plenty of skinny people are unhealthy. And I took a few seconds to think about it, because I never had before, and I said that my knees hurt sometimes when I bend down, and that I get winded easily. And I said that I know exercise would help those things, but I can’t exercise around other people, I feel too embarrassed, and I’ve never found any at-home stuff that I could keep up with or didn’t make me miserable.

And she asked what kind of physical stuff I liked as a kid, and I mentioned gymnastics, and she asked if I’d tried yoga, since it has lots of similar stretching, focus on form, things like that, and it would likely help my knees if I started slow at first and worked my way up. and I hadn’t ever tried it, so we decided, together, for me to give it a shot before our follow up appointment to look at my bloodwork. and she emphasized that if I wanted to make it a habit, the most important thing was just to do a little bit each day, even if it’s just 5 minutes. If 30 minutes was too daunting (and let’s be honest, 30 minutes of exercise is daunting even on my days off, let alone after a 9 hour shift on my feet), just do a couple stretches, so that way your body gets used to the idea of doing it. trying to do 30 minutes 5 days a week would just mean i never did it at all.

And after we ended the appointment, suddenly I wasn’t afraid to go to the doctor anymore, imagine that! The next time I went, my blood pressure was perfect because I knew I wasn’t going to be insulted and made to feel awful, I wasn’t waiting to be told the thing I’d been told for years and tried to change, but just kept getting worse at. And, incidentally, I did end up losing weight- I’m at 225ish right now, in just like two years, which I don’t say as a “go me”, because it doesn’t matter, and for plenty of people, lifestyle changes wouldn’t have done that anyways, and there’s fucking nothing wrong with being 284 pounds, but just to point out that the only thing that actually *worked* to accomplish the goal of all the doctors I had before was not caring about that goal. None of their hectoring and shaming did the thing they wanted, and the thing so many people cautioned against- “glorifying obesity”, aka just not making fat people feel like dogshit all the time- was what gave me the mental energy to exercise regularly, to eat better.

because I wasn’t weighing myself, and I knew at the doctor, no matter what the number was, it would be ok, I felt ok asking questions, bringing up problems I had getting cooking into my schedule, asking for help on health-related things instead of just a number over and over and over again. I was less stressed, I felt better about myself and my body, which also gave me more mental energy to do the things I wanted to be healthier. not skinnier, healthier. It’s almost like...when doctors care more about their patients’ health than their weight, when they don’t make them feel ashamed and awful, the patient will actually go to the fucking doctor. The patient will listen and care more, will ask questions, will bring up when they’re having problems or something seems off with their body. when i moved to Colorado and had my last appointment with that doctor, I cried and told her she was the best doctor I ever had, and I still tear up thinking of how much she changed and improved my life by just being a good fucking doctor who cared about my health.

also usually i read over my longer posts before i post them to make sure grammar and spelling are ok, but this is long so i didn’t do that, so it’s probably fucked. oh well.

#fatphobia #weight loss

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ladyblogger-margie · 3 years

Text

Playoff Pressure

Pairing: Will “Ironhead” Miller (Triple Frontier) x F!Reader

Summary: Will and F!Reader watch an NHL playoff game together and take their relationship to the next level. Reader is a lifelong hockey fan who cares very much about the sport and their team.

Warnings: 18+ Only (general smut, unprotected sex, oral sex M!recieving, creampie, cum play)

Word Count: 2580

a/n: This is SO self indulgent and written in the spirit of the NHL playoffs happening now. I’m a Toronto Maple Leaf fan, but I’ve tried to keep the fandom neutral for the story as well as keep the aspects of the reader character fairly neutral other than the specifics of being a hockey fan.

MY MASTERLIST

Will came back from the kitchen carrying two bottles of beer in one hand and a box of pizza balanced in the other. You and he were both wearing your team gear as you settled into the couch together to watch the next playoff game for your favorite hockey team. The NHL playoffs were in full swing and there was just something so exciting about playoff hockey.

Will was more of a baseball fan before he met you, but you’ve done your part in bringing out his passion for the game you had loved all your life. Now it was tradition to watch games together, and when playoff time hit, everything else took a backseat to cheering on your favorite team.

You two watched the pregame show with the sound off to fill in the chatter with your own thoughts and predictions. Drinking a couple of beers and enjoying each other’s company. Even though you didn’t live with each other, you basically spent every night together. During hockey season it was at your place, and during the baseball season it was over at his.

As the puck drop approached, your pre-game jitters rose in anticipation. You cared very deeply about the game, and Will knew and respected that. It took you a while to show him that side of you in the first place. In the past your enthusiasm had been met with skepticism or humor, and things with Will were so great you had been scared to open that part of your heart to him.

But when you did, Will surprised you with not only being supportive, but taking the time to learn about the game to be able to experience it along with you. One day you were settled in to watch the game and Will was asking you questions about what ‘offside’ means, and the next he was talking about the ways the team could use a cycle on their powerplay more effectively.

Benny had let it slip that Will had been studying hockey and learning all he could so he could participate in your chatter where you had previously been talking either to yourself or the screen. Frankie had smacked Benny upside the head at his slip up, Will having sworn the guys to secrecy.

“But why doesn’t he want me to know?” you asked, confused.

“He wants you to think he already knew everything,” Benny shrugged.

You dropped it with the guys, but it didn’t slip your mind later that night when you were getting ready for bed.

“Why didn’t you want me to know you’ve been studying hockey?” you asked him.

Will froze as he pulled back the sheets, “What makes you say I have?”

You chuckled, “Benny told me.”

Will’s shoulders slumped, “I just wanted you to think I knew this stuff already, because the person you always thought you’d be with would know hockey.”

You winced, regretting the words you forgot you said on your first date, carelessly, without any real significance. You felt bad he remembered that, especially since you hadn’t.

“You’re the person I want to be with, and it means a lot to me that you’re learning about things I care about,” you said, reaching for Will and pulling him in for a kiss, “I don’t care if you know everything, I’m just so touched you care enough about me to engage in my interests.”

Will kissed you, and that was that. He stopped researching on his own and instead asked you his questions. The whole thing had brought you both closer together.

Which brings you to today’s playoff game.

The puck dropped and you took a large gulp of your fresh, ice cold beer to settle your nerves. Will handed you a slice of pizza and kissed your cheek. He knew better than to try and steal your attention from the play.

When the first intermission arrived, you felt some of the tension release from your body, taking a deep breath to collect yourself as the teams took a break and you muted the intermission chatter.

“This is so much more intense than the regular season,” Will commented.

You chuckled, “Isn’t it great?”

You knocked back the last sip of your beer and set it gingerly on the crappy coffee table under your feet.

“I hate this coffee table,” you muttered, frowning at it, “Yours is so much nicer.”

Will smiled, “We could get rid of this one,” he suggested.

“Then I’d have to find another one, and I’m just not in the mood to spend that kind of money,” you sighed and heaved yourself up off the couch and headed for the kitchen.

When you returned with two more ice cold beers, you saw Will watching the television, still on mute, very intently.

“Did you want me to turn the volume back on?” you asked.

“I didn’t mean that you should go out and buy a new coffee table,” Wil said, his tone hinting at frustration.

You handed Will a beer and took a sip of your own, “Then what did you mean?”

“We could get rid of this coffee table, and I could bring mine here,” Will said, taking his eyes off the screen and locking them on you instead.

“Are you planning on getting a new table then?” you asked, confused about the whole conversation.

Before Will could answer, you noticed the second period about to start.

“Oh, pin in that, game’s back,” you explain and turn the volume back up, your attention completely on the television, oblivious to the tension in Will’s shoulders.

Over the course of the intense and honestly fantastically exciting twenty minutes of play, Will spent most of the time watching you. You found it distracting. You were always so overwhelmed by him, consumed by him when he looked at you that way. He should have known better than to distract you like that. But you were frustrated with yourself to be annoyed by his attention when you knew just how lucky you were.

“Babe,” you said, not looking at him as you kept your attention on the game, “Are you watching?”

You saw him smile and lean into your side to place a scratchy kiss on your cheek.

“Sorry, sweetheart, I’m paying attention, I promise,” he whispered against your skin, sending a shiver through your body.

He started to pull away, but you reached up to hold his face close to yours, your attention still on the game. He understood your intention and allowed your attention to stay with your team as he trailed gentle kisses along your jaw and then to your neck. He sucked a hickey to the exposed flesh there.

Your team scored, causing you to jump to your feet in enthusiasm, pulling yourself away from Will suddenly. He laughed to himself before he got up to cheer alongside you and listen to you break down the whole play and jump around.

By the end of the second period you were full-on jittery. Your knees were bouncing and your heart was racing. When the horn blared you sprung to your feet, muting the intermission chatter and stood in front of the television to begin preaching your thoughts on the game so far and what your team needed to do to send this game home.

Will was a patient and attentive listener. He chipped in thoughts of his own when you paused for a breath, but mostly nodded along in agreement with what you were saying. It was so liberating to be yourself so completely with someone and Will gave that to you.

Just before the third period started Will stood up to kiss you deeply, making your knees weak and your mind go blank. You sank into him, returning the kiss and wrapping your arms around the back of his head, your shoulders propped up on his shoulders. There wasn’t any space between your bodies.

Then he turned the volume back up on the television just in time for the third period puck drop and said, “Let’s bring it home.”

You settled into the couch next to him, gripping his knee tightly with your anxiety over the game. Though you weren’t settled in for long. The game got very intense, and the score was still tight so you ended up on your feet, rocking back and forth on your heels.

When your goalie made a spectacular save, you jumped up and down and swung your arms wildly, nearly clocking Will in the face. Thankfully his reflexes saved you the guilt of incidental contact and your night continued injury free.

In the final few minutes of the game, you were a wreck. Your team was winning, but with a game this quick there was no telling how quickly the tides could turn and you’ve witnessed enough upsets to know better than to count your wins before the buzzer.

Will held your hand and stood next to you as you stood watching the clock intently. When the final buzzer blew you and Will cheered loudly and jumped up and down in celebration. You were so thrilled your team won you couldn’t stop smiling. You pulled Will in for a big kiss, smiling the whole time.

Finally catching your breath, you collapsed to the couch.

“I’ve got all this nervous energy with nowhere to put it,” you laughed.

“I can think of one way to blow off some of this steam,” Will suggested.

“Blow?” you said as you slipped off the couch to your knees and you crawled between Will’s legs.

He smiled down at you and pinched your chin between his thumb and finger as he looked you over, licking his lips.

“You sure this is how you want to celebrate?” he asked.

“Yes, I want to share the good vibes,” you said, unbuckling his pants and slipping his half hard cock out and pumping it in your hand.

He hissed a sound of relief as he grew harder in your hand. It wasn’t long until he was fully erect in all his impressive glory. You licked your lips and took him down your throat until you choked. You hollowed out your cheeks and sucked him down deep and hard, bobbing your head in his lap.

He gripped the back of your neck, pushing himself deeper inside you with a low grunt. You felt the wetness gather in your panties as he took control of the pace and fucked your face with his pulse raising and breathing quickening.

You could tell he was close, and in a tease, you pulled off his dick with a pop. He flopped his head backwards on the back of the couch.

“Sweetheart,” he whimpered, “What are you doing to me?”

You pulled your pants and panties down so you were naked except for your team shirt and you tugged off his pants completely this time.

You kissed him, “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll take care of you.”

You grind your hips against him, dragging his thick cock through your slick folds. His hands travel up under your shirt to caress your breasts. He doesn’t remove it, and he’s still wearing his too so you match in your semi-nakedness and full on team spirit.

You line him up at your entrance, and slowly lower yourself into his lap, feeling him stretch you out as you push down on him. His hands don’t stop traveling over your whole body, pinching, brushing, caressing. When they settled on your hips and he��s got them in a tight grip, he bucks underneath you and drops his head into the crook of your neck.

You feel how he fills you up inside as you grow the friction between your bodies. Your hands tangled up in his short hair. You rocked up and down on his thick cock, your body trembling under his touch. You could feel the heat rising in your core as he pressed against that spot inside you.

He dropped a hand from your hips and snuck his thumb to your clit. He rubbed circles on your bundle of nerves as he bucked up underneath you. You gripped his shoulders tightly, desperate to stay on as he took control.

Suddenly he flipped you off his lap and set you on your knees on the couch. He lined himself up behind you and thrust into you with a wet squelch. You braced yourself against the couch cushion and pushed back against him. He had a tight grip on your hips as he pounded into you.

You felt the heat growing again in your core as he rubbed his finger against your clit in time with his pounding thrusts. When you came, drenching his cock in your slick, you moaned out his name.

He pulled you up to press your back into his chest to thrust up into you. You reach behind you to hold his face in your hand. He bites into your neck, the pressure applied directly over the hickey from earlier.

“Come inside me, baby,” you coo in his ear.

It doesn’t take more than that before he cums inside you, painting your walls as your pussy pulses around him. He holds you close to him as he tries to settle his breathing which blows hot by your ear.

He pulls out of you slowly, replacing his cock with his fingers to push around his cum and your slick inside you. He gathered it on his fingertips and pushed it inside of you over and over again. He finger-fucked you through a second, surprise, orgasm that ripped the strength from your body and the only thing keeping you up was his embrace.

He gently spun you around to lay you on your back on the couch. He crawled into your arms and settled on top of you, smothering you delightful beneath him. His head was nuzzled between your breasts as you rubbed his back and felt his cum slide out of you.

“I meant we should move in together,” Will whispered against your skin.

“Hmm?” you asked, not following his thought.

“I’m taking the pin out of the conversation,” he explained.

“The conversation about my crappy coffee table?” you asked, still confused.

“I think we should dump that crappy coffee table and replace it with mine, but I think we should keep my couch, it’s bigger than this one and matches the lazy-boy I’m bringing with me,” he said, still talking against the shirt covering your breasts.

“Wait, you’re serious? You want to live together?” you ask, propping yourself up to your elbows and he lifted his head to look you in your eyes.

“Yes, we might as well since we spend every night together anyway,” he said with a shrug.

You pulled him up by his shoulders and yanked on his shirt to pull him in for a kiss.

“Yes!” you practically shrieked in his ear, “Let’s do it!”

He pulled you into his lap not caring about the mess to kiss you deeper.

“We should get a new place,” you suggest.

“With a den we can convert into our own sports bar,” he said.

“Baseball in the summers, hockey in the winter, beer year round,” you explain with full sincerity.

“As you wish,” he said.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up,” Will said as he led you to the bathroom, “We can start looking for a place after.”

Then he led you to the shower and towards the next chapter of your lives together.

Tags: @autumnleaves1991-blog

#will miller #triple frontier #charlie hunnam #will miller x f!reader #hockey #Will Ironhead Miller x F!Reader #will ironhead miller #fanfic

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theawkwardterrier · 3 years

Note

8+25 for a Steggy drabble

Amicus Curiae

Summary: Spending her Sunday watching high school students argue the same fake case is starting to seem like something Judge Carter might regret, until the Brooklyn Community High School team shows up. Or rather, until their teacher does...

Peggy is perfectly aware why she had volunteered for this. She knows why she should be proud and excited to be here, can mentally list through all the positives, the importance of it.

By her fourth session of the day, she has given up reminding herself of these things and is just hanging on.

It isn’t that the students are terrible - many of them are actually quite good. It’s only that listening to the same case being argued repeatedly over the course of several hours has the tendency to put a bit of strain on a person.

Perhaps it is especially grating because she had specifically only signed up to work for the morning today; she was planning on indulging in some actual relaxation over this weekend, or at least a bit of it after she had finished giving the keynote at the Women and Law conference on Saturday and spending Sunday volunteering, then finishing up on some work, and so long as her neighbors’ newborn actually took a break from indulging in a seeming undying passion for crying….

Well, not being around to listen to that was one blessing of having been begged by the very harassed tournament organizer to stay for a bit of extra time when Thompson had begun vomiting after lunch and needed to go home (Peggy can’t say she’s sorry about it, and she suspects that students will appreciate not having to put up with his tendency to pontificate).

Still, it’s hard to remember all the benefits, the meaningful logic, when the next set of teams has settled into her courtroom and she has to push back her shoulders and enter for yet another round.

“Just one more to get through. I’ll text the café and put in an order for your usual,” Rose mutters out of the corner of her mouth as Peggy passes, then raises her voice to announce, “All rise, the superior court of New York is now in session. Judge Margaret Carter presiding.”

Peggy scans the crowd absently as she gives her now-standard introductory speech. There are Zola and Schmidt, who have served as faculty coach and legal advisor for Hydra High over the past several years. She doesn’t envy the students on their team; the two might have a fairly steady winning record, but their personalities are miserable and they have a reputation for being harsh leaders.

Her gaze shifts to the other side. She’s never even heard of Brooklyn Community, guesses that they have never made out of preliminary rounds before. They are serving as the prosecution, with two young women and a young man as their attorneys. The three have their hands folded atop the table, listening to her attentively, but as she wraps up, she notices them sneaking glances toward their chaperones.

She is almost certain that they aren’t looking for reassurance from the lawyer accompanying them. She knows Howard Stark, although then again everyone does. He hasn’t argued before her, but he takes high profile cases and makes them even higher profile. If he wasn’t actually a talented and thorough attorney, she would dislike him quite a lot for how well he plays the media game, turning the law and people’s lives into sound bites and cable news clips. It’s a surprise to see him here - she would not have thought him the type to volunteer his time, especially not for something as small as a high school mock trial tournament - but no surprise at all to notice that he is glancing down at the phone in his lap, typing surreptitiously.

The thought of penalizing him for that crosses her mind, but before she can say anything, a tall student in the front row shifts and she can see whose eye the young prosecutors were trying to catch.

Their teacher is young, Peggy realizes as she directs Rose to read the name of the court case on the docket (which she already knows extremely bloody well by now). Not as young as some of the bright-eyed-bushy-tailed types she’s seen, but she’d wager that he’s in his thirties, perhaps a year or two older than she is. The smile he directs toward his students is not a flashy, movie star sort of thing but more solid than that, real and reassuring, and he meets the eyes of his charges and nods with firm encouragement toward them before sitting back to watch.

Incidentally, he is also incredibly good looking.

Peggy honors her commitments, prides herself on that, in fact, and so she takes as much care in overseeing this trial as she does with those which come before her in a more official capacity. Still, between watching the excellent prosecutorial team and noting some of the more interesting choices being made by a few of the witnesses, she manages to keep an eye on the teacher - Steve Rogers, according to the file she had glanced at.

He watches the trial carefully, making notes as he does, but it isn’t like Zola, who only jots things down when his team has made a misstep. Mr. Rogers seems as likely to mark things done right as those which could be done better. He nods along with his students, smiling especially widely at several points; Peggy would venture that those were things that they worked on particularly hard in practice. And every so often he turns to look at her before turning swiftly back toward his students.

It’s the way his eyes widen and shift quickly away which makes Peggy suspect that his gaze isn’t entirely to do with analyzing how she is perceiving his team.

He keeps his eyes on hers, however, when she returns from her brief recess and announces that his team will be advancing to the next round. It’s only for that moment, though. The next he is turning to congratulate his team, who have all swarmed around him, patting their shoulders and speaking quietly to them, turning to shake Howard Stark’s hand.

With one last glance at Schmidt, whose face has turned sour with rage, and Zola, who is trying to calm him even as he shakes his head at the team, Peggy allows Rose to announce her exit, and goes to absorb the quiet of her chambers. As nice a distraction as Steve Rogers was, she knew that it could not be for long.

Still, she’s a bit regretful when she, divested of her robe and carrying her briefcase, returns to the courtroom to take the stairs down to the back parking area and finds it empty.

Then she hears something.

“Gotcha,” a voice says, and Steve Rogers stands from between the benches of the gallery where the Hydra team had been sitting earlier, a crumpled paper cup in his hand. He spots her almost immediately, and she can see the awkwardness come over his face even with the courtroom lights dimmed.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” he says. “Your Honor, I mean.”

“It’s no trouble, Mr. Rogers,” she says, walking nearer. “Have you forgotten something?”

He glances down at the cup he is holding and winces. “Oh, no. I—When we were in here before, I saw that there were a few things left behind. I figured I’d come back to clean up a little once I saw my team to the subway.”

“You don’t have to do that. Really.” They are at comfortable speaking distance now. “Tidying after other teams isn’t precisely within your job description.”

He shrugs, wide shoulders looking a little helpless. “I was here and I could take care of it. No reason that the custodial staff should have to deal with extra just because some people weren’t as respectful as they should have been.”

The response seems to make something warm and expansive trail through her chest, but she only says, “Hmm,” in return, tilting her head to one side. “Well, I should hope that you didn’t entrust the well-being of your students to Mr. Stark while you came back to take care of litter.”

“They’re city kids, they’ve been taking the subway by themselves for years. And if anything, I’d trust them to take care of Howard instead of the other way around,” he says. A smile touches at his mouth, and although she’s seen him smile many times over the course of the afternoon, it is different when it is directed at her.

“Well, let us hope that it won’t come to that. I did wonder, actually, how you managed to convince Mr. Stark to participate. I only know him by reputation, but I wouldn’t think it his sort of activity.”

“I might not have thought so either, but I know that it never hurts to try, so I got in touch. Turns out that he got his start on a team back in high school too. He still has a soft spot.” He shrugs. “I was lucky to get him. My kids deserve the best.”

“I’m disappointed not to be asked then,” she says. His eyes widen a bit before he realizes that she’s teasing.

Still, he sounds truthful and serious as he tells her, “If you weren’t a judge, you would have been on my list. You got yourself on the bench even though you’re young, a woman, and if you’re a naturalized citizen you already have to be pretty self-directed and able to go through all that’s involved in that...I know that none of that would have made it easy. People with vision about their futures who were able to achieve their goals despite obstacles - that’s exactly who I want around my team.”

She shifts her briefcase a bit, knowing that she’s already eaten through most of the day and that the journey home will lose her even more time. But it feels so nice standing here talking to him, not just small talk, not just because of the compliments, but because it feels like the start of something. So instead she says, “I apologize, by the way. I haven’t congratulated you.”

“They did a great job,” he says, immediate, eager. “It’s our first year even offering Mock Trial and I wasn’t sure how well it would work out, but they’re doing themselves proud. I wouldn’t be surprised to hear about some of them making partner one day - or making their own way to the bench. Nat, who did the cross, she—” But he cuts himself off, blushing a little. “Sorry, I know I can get carried away, and you probably don’t want to hear it - you already spent the whole day knee deep in this, after all, and I don’t want you to think I’m trying to bias you somehow.”

There really isn’t a word for the pink in his cheeks other than fetching. Well, perhaps darling would do it.

Just earlier today, she would have said that her life was quite full enough, perhaps even overfull. But somehow, she thinks that a space could open for him, for speaking with him and seeing him and more, if she wanted it to. So she takes a breath and says, “I actually won’t be judging any further rounds this season, so there can’t be any sort of conflict of interest at all. Even if you were to, for example, join me for a bite to eat sometime soon.”

For a blink, she wonders if she might have misjudged, if she has mistaken politeness for something more, but then his mouth curves back into that smile which sends warmth running through her and which she is already beginning to like so well, especially when it is being aimed in her direction.

“I’m free tonight if you are,” he offers, something a bit worried still lying beneath the offer he has laid plainly at her feet. It makes her want to take his hand, to lean her head against his shoulder and promise that he has nothing to be nervous about.

Instead she says, all thought of taking off her heels and climbing into a hot bath forgotten, “If you’ve finished neatening things up around here, I know a place nearby.”

His smile gets just that bit wider. “Let me toss this out. Then you can lead the way.”

She’s happy to.

#Steggy #Steggy fic #Peggy Carter #Steve Rogers #fic memes #sorry this one came out weird and probably inaccurate to actual mock trial #I did skim a bunch of stuff to try to get it at least a bit accurate #thanks to the New York State Bar Association for putting their finals videos online #(I also should have specified in my original tags that when I refer to a drabble it is a story of exactly a hundred words #This and the rest will be...a bit more than that)#Anonymous

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