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dreamingofaizawa · 2 years

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Apologize

Pro Hero! Shinsou Hitoshi x Pro Hero! Female! Reader

***This is an 18+ fic. Minors DNI***

Warnings: noncon/dubcon (seriously it's very much not verbally consentual so be warned) dom/sub dynamics, brat/tamer dynamics, Shinsou being mean as fuck, breath play, humiliation(?), hatefucking, edging, light bondage, threat of heavier bondage, begging, nicknames (pretty girl, baby, baby girl, sweetheart, brat), he calls reader a bitch once, brat taming(?), sub drop, shitty ending cause my brain didn't want to imagine that bit. an itty bitty drop of yandere if you squint hard enough. lmk if I missed anything

Word Count: 2k

Author's Note: Nobody look at me, don't even percieve me. This came to me at asscrack o'clock in the morning while I was TRYING to sleep. Everyone can thank my insomniac brain for this. Honestly, fuck you brain. I need SLEEP. Anywho, I cranked this out in like an hour all in one sitting. Fun.

Anywho, enjoy~

***

He’s been relatively nice to you, in the short time you’ve known him. Working alongside the purple-haired hero has been pleasant, you’d even go so far to say it’s been fun. Little jokes shared here and there, random short games like tag in the middle of a slow midnight patrol.

But there’s always going to be sides of people you don’t know about, and it’s really only a matter of time before all hell breaks loose. It starts with a bad bad day.

You’ve both been hunting down a lead for a special case you’ve been assigned for the past week. Today you got so so close. It leads to a dead end. After that, it only gets worse. Dead ends, one after the other, as you try to backtrack your way through where you could have gone wrong. Nothing. And Shinsou is getting more frustrated by the hour as you both hunch over his desk, scouring the case file for anything that could help. At some point, you give up. Decide it’s better to let it go and pick it up another time with fresh eyes and rested brains. You try to be encouraging when you ask him to do the same and join you on the couch.

“C’mon, Shinsou. Relax just for a minute, at least. We’ll look at it again in a few, but you gotta give your brain a break.” He huffs, glares at you for even thinking to suggest that.

“I refuse to sit on my ass like you. I’ve got shit to do.” Now that makes you freeze. He’s never…accused you? Like that?

“Wait- what is that supposed to mean? I’m trying to keep my head on straight instead of stressing and possibly missing something. What do you want me to do?” He slams his fist on the desk, only managing to get a small jump out of you.

“I want you to do your fucking job.” What the fuck? You’re on your feet, slowly stepping toward him. It’s a challenge, really, for him to do or say anything like that again.

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” He straightens and steps around the desk toward you, meeting you in the middle of the room. Both your eyes burn into each other, anger heating the entire room and painting it deep red.

“You heard me the first time.” You huff out through your nose, right in his face, before swiftly turning to make your way toward the door.

“Fuck you, Shinsou. If I knew my ‘partner’ was such an asshole I’d have never agreed to this bullshit.” Yeah, you’ve been fine with him. But you have zero tolerance for bullshit.

And then, in some doomed stroke of luck, you’re pinned to the wall before you can even react. Your vision blurs as you’re spun, the wind is knocked from your chest as your back hits the wall and your entire body is pinned by his own. Both your wrists are swiftly gathered in one of his large fists above your head, and his other hand wraps delicately around your throat, deft fingers squeezing ever so gently.

“You’re being such a damn bitch. Don’t you know this is important shit we’re working on?”

“What the fuck? You lash out at me and I’M the bitch?! Fuck o–” You’re cut off when his fingers squeeze hard, the rest of the word coming out garbled.

“Fuck, do you ever shut up? So vulgar, too.” You almost manage an eye roll, between trying to breathe and wriggling in his grasp in an attempt to escape. He’s playing with your breathing, squeezing in pulses and never letting up for too long. It’s making you dizzy, your chest heaving with every breath he so graciously granted you.

You hate to think it’s turning you on.

“I should gag you and string you up in the closet with my binding cloth. Maybe then I’ll be able to get something done for once.” He can feel your pulse quicken, see your pupils dilate just the tiniest bit and your thighs squeeze together ever so slightly. He’s got you right where he wants you.

“Oh? Little brat likes that idea? Well too fuckin’ bad, you don’t get what you like, or what you want.” He quickly spins you around and brings your hands down behind your back, securing them with that damned cloth of his, before slinking a hand around your throat again and pinning you to his front.

“Now here’s what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna apologize for interrupting me, for slacking, and for being a brat. And you’re gonna convince me you’re sorry, or else you don’t get to cum. Understand?” Who knew he could be so damn sadistic? And so fucking self-centered. What a piece of work. And you make it known how you feel.

“As if I’d apologize to the likes of you. Jackass.” He only chuckles before wrapping an arm around your waist, slipping his hand down the front of your sweats and snapping the band of your panties against your skin. Fuck. Why can you feel yourself getting wet?

“Now, what do you think I’m gonna find down here, huh? Cause I can tell you’re already hot and bothered, all for me.” You squirm harder, wiggling around to get him off you. But were you really trying? You’re a pro hero for god’s sake, surely you could get yourself out of this even with your hands bound. But why would you want to, when you already feel this good?

He’s walking backward, dragging you along with him until he reaches the couch, plopping down and leaning against the arm, sprawling his legs along the cushions with yours over top of them. With your arms bound it’s easy for him to release your throat in favor of tugging down both your sweatpants and panties, chuckling at the dark patch right in the crotch of your underwear. He doesn’t say anything about it. You both know he was right earlier, you both know your burning embarrassment.

He drops both items to the floor before gripping both your thighs and prying them open, despite your nowhere-near-best efforts to keep them wedged shut. Your knees are either side of his and his ankles hook over top of your own to keep you spread for him. Exposed for him.

“Let’s try this again, pretty girl.” It’s sickly sweet, the way he says it. Mocking and praising at the same time. A hand is at your throat again while the other reaches down to glide his fingers between your folds. You’re wet. Really, really wet. You can hear the squelch as he gathers your juices on his fingers and spreads it over your clit, rubbing slow firm circles over the already swollen nub. You jolt, and he chuckles. Fuck this is humiliating. And so hot.

“Apologize, and I’ll let you cum. You’ve got all the time in the world. As long as you do it before you cum I’ll work you through it, I promise.” You don’t want to. Apologizing is just admitting defeat. He can’t play this game forever, you can hold out, you’re sure of it.

Except his fingers are moving faster over your clit, rubbing harder and working you closer to that edge. And fuck, if it doesn’t feel so good the be so close to cumming. Your legs are starting to tremble, thighs trying to close around his hand and your breathing is getting heavier. You’re so close. Just a little more.

And then he stops.

Your entire body jolts with the lost orgasm, and you bite your lip to keep from making any noise. You can’t let him know he’s getting to you.

“Aw, did that not feel good baby? I’m sure you didn’t like me ripping that away from you. But it’s okay, you’ve got another chance to make it up to me.” And that isn’t a lie. You do get another chance. One you don’t take. He builds you up with just his fingers on your clit, dragging them away before you can fall over that blissful peak. It’s so frustrating, being so close and yet still so fucking far.

After the fourth or fifth time, there are tears in your eyes begging to fall, clumping your lashes together. Your thighs and abdomen burn from the constant tensing. And Hitoshi is getting annoyed.

So he starts again, running tight circles over your raw clit with those deadly fingers of his. But this time he dips two down into your pussy and curls them hard, slamming that spongy spot inside you. It’s so unexpected, so sudden you let out a loud, wanton moan as you arch off of him and buck your hips into his hand.

“There we go, baby girl. That’s it. Make some noise for me.” He doesn’t stop when your moans turn to whimpers and your whole body begins to shake with the intensity of your oncoming orgasm. You can feel that tight knot in your belly start to fray, pulling so tight it’ll snap any moment now, and the instant you start to cum he rips his fingers away from you. The tears you’d willed not to fall begin to stream down your cheeks, you’re too far gone to care that your sniffles and cries sound so pathetic. And you begin to grovel. Just like he wanted you to.

“Please -hic- please ‘Toshi, I wanna cum. Please let me cum it hurts.” He coos down at you, nuzzling his cheek against your own and you nuzzle right back, wrapped right around his sticky finger.

“Awe, poor baby. It hurts?” you nod, “Well, then you know what you have to do right? All you gotta do is apologize, and you can cum as many times as you want baby. Yeah? Doesn’t that sound good?” You nod again, whimpering into his mouth when he turns and ghosts his lips against yours.

“Go on then, sweetheart.” You shudder and hiccup some more, before finally giving in.

“I’m s-sorry, Shinsou. ‘M so sorry, I didn't mean to be a brat. I’m sorry for making you mad! I promise it won’t -hic- happen again, please I’m so sorry.” He’s glowing from it, from how pathetic you sound, how helpless and blissed out you are. Limp against his frame after being edged so much. So beautiful. And all his, he decides.

“Such a good girl for me. You can cum now, baby. Cum for me.” His fingers return to your sopping pussy, immediately battering your g-spot while his thumb rubs at your clit. You’ve never cum so fast or so hard in your life. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and you see white, ears ringing as your whole body tenses and shakes, bowing off him as you nearly shout a broken moan. He helps you ride it out, continues stroking at your walls and clit until your body falls back down and shakes from overstimulation. Only then does he stop, wiping his cum soaked fingers across your thigh before tilting your head to lock his lips with your own. Though, you’re a little too out of it to reciprocate the sloppy makeout.

“C’mon baby, come back to me.” He’s tapping your cheek lightly, releasing the cloth around your wrists and massaging the tender skin. It takes a few minutes for your eyes to refocus, your breathing to stop stuttering and your limbs to stop trembling. When you do come back to reality, you cling to Hitoshi like a magnet.

“There you are. Shh, you’re alright baby.” You cry into his chest, almost wailing after the sudden release of endorphins. You’ve never felt so low, especially after such a heavenly high. He holds you, rubs your back and pets your hair, presses little kisses everywhere he can reach until you’ve fallen asleep from exhaustion.

He decides that maybe a break was needed, and that an apology from him was in order. But that can wait until you’re both rested, and you’ve been taken care of. For now, he allows himself to drift to sleep beneath you.

#shinsou hitoshi #hitoshi shinsou #shinsou hitoshi bnha #shinsou hitoshi x reader #hitoshi shinsou bnha #hitoshi shinsou mha #hitoshi shinsou x reader #tw noncon #tw dubcon #twnoncon #twdubcon #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon #not me tagging every 'tw'#just covering my bases honestly

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joemuggs · 4 months

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The Local is the Local

OK this is another unfinished article. Entirely my fault this time. I wrote it as a draft for a magazine, who asked me to rejig it (entirely fairly in this case, it's a bit bitty), but life events stopped me doing the rewrite in time - and the longer it sat on my hard drive the more of a burden redoing it felt.... So I just need to dump it here, get it out there, and then develop the theme in a new way next year. Because it IS about something important to me (to all of us really), so hopefully having it out in the world will help me get my thoughts in order. Interesting sidetone: I had not heard of Cory Doctorow's concept of "enshittification" when I wrote it!

**********

To paraphrase Dickens, they were the shittest of times, they were the even shittierest of times. The litany of war, pestilence, impoverishment, looming destruction, failing institutions and all the rest really, really isn’t funny any more. Just shit. Even the lowest-information of punters notices the decline daily: not just when they need services like police or doctors or public transport, but in the very fabric of things. Even the relatively cosy market town where I live with my family – having moved out of South London to the New Forest in 2017 to give our two then-small kids space and fresh air – noticeably has crumbling building facades and a lot of shut-down shops, and the big towns are worse.

Our nearest cities are Southampton – which to be fair has never recovered from its PTSD from World War II anyway – and Bournemouth. Bournemouth, too, has always been a bit tatty – seedy too, the epitome of faded Victorian glamour – but nonetheless energetic, like the party town it is: a kind of Brighton minus the airs and graces. Lately, though, that energy is muted to say the very least. The city centre is eerie as anything with some of the biggest department and chain stores boarded up with nothing to replace them. It’s not quite a wasteland, but it’s not itself, either. It’s not right. It feels sad.

It’s easy to get angry about this stuff. It’s even easier to get down and defeated. A decade and a bit of neglect of… well…everything in the name of austerity has weakened everything, eroded the resilience needed to ride out the latest economic shocks. And the state of towns and cities doesn’t just symbolise this, they are the heart of the problem, the ebbing away of commerce and socialisation in them drives atomisation. Often it feels like too many people are beaten down, resigned, heading not towards riots but just towards a creeping anomie, distancing and acceptance of inevitable worsening of… well… everything.

There are oases of hope though – albeit slightly odd ones. Some of the best times I’ve had in Bournemouth lately have been at record fairs. Now, yes, I’m a middle aged man with decks and Kallax shelves in the garage, but honestly, this isn’t what you’re thinking. These aren’t just forums for people like me to jostle and hustle over dusty crates and bore on about rare pressings. They’re family affairs. They’re fun. The Eats’n’Beats fair takes over coffee roasters’ courtyards, with food, clothes and craft stalls. Re:Warm’s pop up shop is run by Balearic geezers, taking over a craft brewery taproom so people of all ages can eat, drink and socialise all day long around the music.

There’s two vital parts to this, the first being the food and drink. Food halls, stalls and fairs have maybe got a bad name lately, thanks to blanded out mall versions, price gouging at festivals and – worst – the gentrification spearhead affairs masterminded by hospitality industry wideboys to create bourgeois enclaves in big cities where almost all white attendees can sample safe packets of “ethnic” experience for £8 a recycled cardboard plateful. But step outside the metropoles and the picture is very different. People are thrilled by culinary variety, and very glad indeed to support local cooks and produce merchants. Food fairs are actual special occasions.

Back in late 2020, Covid still running amok, Owen Hatherley wrote a piece for the Guardian about high street regeneration focusing on how the people of Preston, Lancs took the initiative in what he called “craft beer social democracy, based on small trades doing interesting things.” My antennae sparked on reading it and I couldn’t get the phrase “craft beer social democracy” out of my head. If an arch Corbynist like Hatherley could find things to love in something so close to the Cameronian Big Society / Jamie Oliver Big Lunch model, odd things were afoot.

The second element in play is music, especially club music, and the culture that comes with it. The Balearic aspect in particular – laid back, anything-goes, not beholden to the doof-doof, but smart and interesting sounds – provides the perfect atmosphere to come-one-come-all daytime events. Even in a staid village, get a few people sitting around on haybales drinking craft cider and eating pizza, play “I’m Not in Love”, some Soul II Soul and some Róisín Murphy on nice speakers, and hey presto: vibes upon vibes. And just as importantly, the hypersocial, and now cross-generational, nature of club culture provides its own infrastructure to build on too – again, something easy to take for granted or write off as facile if you’re in a major hub city, but a lifeline if you’re out in the gammon-infested sticks. I already knew this thanks to my wife being a founder of the Big Fish Little Fish family rave organisation, and getting to see the joy it brings to relatively socially isolated parents, but seeing the same vibe connections seeping into genteel school fetes and pub gardens has been an eye-opener.

That linkage into subculture in turn links into a different sort of urban regeneration: the DIY venue. Last year, not that long after I’d made contact with the Bournemouth record fair crews, I got invited to write about the music scene in Tyneside and was bowled over by the sense of an area relatively overlooked by arts funding and the culture industry determined to build its own infrastructure. Venues like Cobalt, Star & Shadow, The Lubber Fiend and World Headquarters are created and maintained not just for their own scenes but with a sense of adding to the fabric of the city. Again, as with the Preston story, something that stood out was the "odd blend of hard-left politics and entrepreneurialism" that comes when communities pull together.

My weekend in the Northeast made me think again about other spaces I’ve attended, been in touch with or heard friends enthuse about. Sheffield’s Hope Works, a proper down and dirty techno dive that every year blossoms into the No Bounds arts festival across the city. Rye Wax in Peckham, the record-store-café-venue that’s been in suspended animation since Covid lockdown but is about to be reborn with an Arts Council funded youth mentorship programme in tow. Futtle brewery in Fife. Spit And Sawdust skate art cafe bar in Cardiff. Partisan, The Carlton Club and White Hotel in Manchester. The Golden Lion, Todmorden. The Cellar Arts Club in Worthing. Sneaky Pete’s in Edinburgh. Future Yard in Birkenhead. Club Uniquity in Somerleyton, Suffolk. Café Indie in Scunthorpe...

There are dozens more besides, crucially each with its own approach and character, a million miles from the sanitised O2 / Carling / Live Nation owned £7 plastic-glass-of-rat’s-piss monoculture that has taken hold of venues and festivals in this country. Some are built around dance music, but many around indie rock or noise/experimental music, or LGBTQ+ scenes, or all of the above. Often there’s radical politics behind them, but just as often you’ll find a hodge-podge: as in Hatherley’s “craft beer social democracy”, necessity makes for interesting alliances, and hard left and woolly libs, idealists and bootstrap entrepreneurs, rigorous ethical frameworks and widepersons of the blag economy, will rub along together.

But whatever their individual slant, they tend, crucially to have deep roots in some kind of subcultural history. At the time of writing I’m preparing to head up to Bristol to chair panel discussions at the Black Gold Vinyl Fair at Lost Horizon HQ. This gig/rave venue, cafe, gallery, marketplace and VR studio (!) is run by the team behind Shangri La – the successor to Lost Vagueness as Glastonbury Festival’s “naughty corner” – with an ethos eyeballs-deep in mischievous hippie/anarchist-leaning squatter history, but also the organisational nous that it takes to be part of the 21st century double-fenced Glastonbury megalopolis. That sense of subcultural history – folk culture, even – has been brought brightly to life just recently by the celebrations of what would have been the late, great Andrew Weatherall’s 60th birthday. They may have begun in superclub fabric, but they progressed through smaller venues in Belfast and Glasgow to close with a weekender in the strange, storied Golden Lion in Todmorden.

All of this – the food fairs, the vinyl and beer all dayers, the record shops with charcuterie, the little rave dives with coffee machines and yoga classes in the daytime, all of it – is sorely needed. The triple whammy of Brexit, Covid and the Cozzy Lizzy (as we must now call the economic collapse) have hit the music industry very, very hard, and gigs and festivals worst of all. Even international acts are finding it hard to tour and will do for the foreseeable future, which is going to be career ending for some – and for many of the tens of thousands of people who prop up the infrastructure. It’s hard to overstate the damage, but there are at least crumbs of comfort for young acts, local scenes and little venues held together with gaffer tape and deranged strength of will.

And our towns and cities need them, too. It’s been wild seeing the conspiratarians and antiwokers turn on the 15 Minute City as the latest target for spittle flecked ranting. But hopefully, maybe this can be a galvanising force for all the rest of us to remember that actually, yes, our neighbourhoods can be better. The craft beer and food court aspects may have got a bad rep as being bougie or gentrifying, but that is a misunderstanding and ultimately snobbery. Thankfully the subculture parts – whether it’s punk, rave, balearic, queer scenes or whatever – do still manage cut across class and other social boundaries. And ultimately, given the right welcoming atmosphere, having a drink or a cake and listening to tunes is pretty inclusive as activities go.

Oddly enough, there isn’t really any map to this territory, there’s no guidebook to where to find the truly independent happenings. Perhaps that’s because those big brand sponsored faux-popups, box parks and gentrifier vanguard food courts with their PR budgets suck up all the air of publicity, perhaps it’s because the indie spaces are too cranky, too individual, too busy just staying afloat to link up into a movement. They need each of us to seek them out.

We don’t really have a flagship community space in this bit of the south coast just yet – at least I don’t think we do: I’d love to be surprised and proved wrong. My exploration of our nearby cities has been cursory until recently, having had social life limited first by young children, then by two years of Covid disruption. Only now, with my kids hurtling into their teens, am I really finding my feet socially and musically. But between a few ramshackle bars and shiny breweries and those fun afternoons rifling through tunes and eating fancy cookies, I am finding a few glimmers of hope. And in these shittest of times hope is, of course, the most precious commodity of all.

#food culture #subculture #localism

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dr33mtal3 · 1 year

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Dr33mtal3 Bitty 2: the Pazazz

And now there is a sketchy picture of a Pazazz bitty to match the pippin! Have some fun facts!

changes colors based on mood

smells like apples and coffee (usually); a change in smell (such as but not limited to: fresh cut grass, musky sap, spicy peppers, rotten meat) may indicate health problems or distress

very energetic: will run around or fly to work off energy, and therefore needs space to exercise

will shed leaves, petals, pollen and/or nectar all over his things

sheds are non toxic and edible (provided he is healthy and in good spirits)

drawn to high places and deep holes

drawn to soft things

prefers warmer temperatures

drawn to inks, pigments, paints, and mud; may respond either to spread the mess or clean it depending on mood and other factors

excitable and sociable personality, but will imprint and become especially attached to his special person/people

prone to hoarding tendencies

prone to separation anxiety

prone to nesting

will engage in altercations, competitions, and feats of strength for sport, entertainment, or spite

#d3!bitty #d3!pazazz #dr33mtal3 conceptart

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isleofancients · 1 year

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"mmhm," He gets a nuzzle, a a wet wing flopped around his shoulder for good measure, as they head back to reclaim lost items. "it sounds like I'm gonna need a special brush and soap for my feathers. you think I can borrow some from Fresh, or are we gonna need to grow find in the bitty shop?" where, sooner or later, they're going to run into Dame, and probably need to, but- thus may nit be the right time.

...after what happened with Kracken, though- maybe sooner is better than later, they reflect, reclaiming shirt and shoes.

"Fresh is a pretty clean guy so he probably has some stuff." Magnus says, pulling the wing closer around him, nuzzling into the slightly drier yet still-sandy feathers. "We should probably get our own things at some point though so we don't gotta keep borrowing."

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fantasy-fields-bitty-center · 2 years

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omg! i was the one that asked about the most popular bitties waaay back when you just had lamias, satyrs, and spinos! may i get that ask redone with the new bitties? what are the most popular and/or least popular bitties at the center now?

This is all spoken as in universe below the line! These are also based on bitties that either would have a reason to be 'less desirable' in universe(i.e. personality wise, size wise, special care requirements, etc.) or is just not asked about as much(like our fauns, paleo bitties, and other types)

Hope you enjoy!

Our most popular bitty types are Lamias!

Mainly the Tale/Fell/Swap Lamias, though our least popular lamias would be Geno types(as they need special care), Shattered Dream/Nightmare bitties(due to their goopy texture and the fact their goo can cause/worsen negative emotions), and pretty much any 'bad sans' type,

As for our least popular bitty types, it can be a little difficult to tell as they are unpopular for different reasons!

Like our Haiensune bitties! They are unpopular for their more destructive tendencies,

Or our Poltergeist bitties! They can only have magic food so many people are turned away from them as they can be harder to care for, as well as being cold to the touch and the ability to walk through walls!

Our Eel bitties are often overlooked as they have more of a temper!

And our Shark bitties are overlooked by some due to stereotypes of sharks! Even if they really aren't true with our shark bitties,

Many also overlook our Demon bitties for more religious reasons or for stereotype reasons,

And many bara bitties(or just bigger bitties in general) are often overlooked due to their size, as they can be harder to care for as they need more space and food,

Though I do see the Jormungander bitties are often turned away due to their size, as even their mini sizes can get up to 10 feet long! And they need massive tanks or areas to swim in that are salt water, as they can't live in fresh water, they can be very difficult to care for, especially for the average bitty owner! But many owners on the coast line(or even some that live out at sea) have some of these bitties!

#ask #anon #mod wolf

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taxibelt20 · 2 years

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#外燴

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iambilliejeanok · 3 years

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🌼Baby boyfriend🌼

🍄Fluff Monday 🍄

Purely fluff🌈

Pairings: Kakashi x reader

🧚🏾‍♀️🧚🏾‍♀️🧚🏾‍♀️🧚🏾‍♀️🧚🏾‍♀️🧚🏾‍♀️🧚🏾‍♀️🧚🏾‍♀️🧚🏾‍♀️🧚🏾‍♀️🧚🏾‍♀️🧚🏾‍♀️🧚🏾‍♀️🧚🏾‍♀️🧚🏾‍♀️🧚🏾‍♀️🧚🏾‍♀️🧚🏾‍♀️

Hearing the door shut, you looked up from the couch to see your boyfriend step in the house, his clothes all dirty and his face wearing a weary expression as he slowly slid his mask off, slumping back against the wall in exhaustion. As quick as could be, you stood in front of him your arms wrapping around his slender torso to embrace him in a long and warm hug. Lazily, his arm came around you, pulling you closer with all the strength he had, pressing a small and quick kiss to your cheek. Looking up at him, you wore the cutest pout on your face, “You wanna come and nap with me? I’m sure you’ll feel better once you wake up. And we could catch up on other stuff later in the night”, you spoke while casually stripping him, taking off his flak jacket followed by his hitai-ate and mask, dropping them in a pile next to his shoes. You couldn’t help the smile that crept up on you at the small nod he made to your suggestion. “Poor baby, come”, you said, taking his larger hand in your smaller one and leading him straight to the bathroom. With his eyes closed he leaned against the counter, breathing in the soft mango scent of the melatonin bubble bath. While the tub was still running, you turned on a few candles the two of found together and instantly fell in love with, placing one on each corner, already excited for the evening. Cuddles were always amazing with the hubby. Closing the tap, you looked over to him, giggling when you noticed his droopy eyes staring right at the perfect view of your ass. “Oi sleepy head”, you giggled, walking over to him to wrap your arms around his neck, his own arms instinctively wrapping around your waist, running his hand up and down your back while you both made eye contact. “You’re too tired”, you teased, planting a soft kiss on his lips for the first time this evening. His lips immediately hungered for yours, his hand coming to rest at the back of your head and keep you in place as he deepened the kiss, running his tongue along your lips before you started pushing against his chest to get him to stop. You weren’t expecting the kiss to grow so intense, panting as you both got lost in each other’s eyes once again. “Come, let’s get you cleaned up baby”, you breathed, licking your plump lips as your hands set to work. Small kisses fell all over his body while you slowly undressed him, savoring this peaceful moment between the two of you. No work, no teenagers, no stinky puppies. Just the two of you, enjoying each other’s presence.

Kakashi shut his eyes, taking in deep breaths at the soft and warm kisses you planted across his naked body, little tingles shooting along his spine every time the rough skin of your hands met the skin on his body. Finally coming back up, you had to a take a deep breath at the sight of his naked body. Sure you’ve seen him butt naked more times than you could count, but there was just something so special about seeing him like this. No mask, all his feelings on display, his dick hard, completely vulnerable, to no one else but you. You felt chosen. “The water is ready”, you whispered in his ear, his eyes slowly fluttering open from the kiss you placed on his lips. “Hmmm. Let’s go”, he said walking over and settling in, reaching out for you to join him. “Baby, I already had a bath”, you pouted, absolutely hating the decision you made to bathe earlier on, but also glad that you could use this opportunity to spoil him. “But I want you in here with me! I wanna cuddle”, he whined in his deep voice, the begging tugging at your heart. “Here baby, just relax and I’ll take care of you”, you said, reaching for the loofah and a bar of raw butter soap, lathering up the loofah before gently rubbing down Kakashi’s chest, scrubbing away the dirt from the day. Working the loofah all over his body, a deep sigh he let out distracted you, and you smiled when you looked up to see his eyes shut. You were really happy he was just relaxing in this moment.

After going over his body once again with a sponge and some raw sugar scrub, you slowly started kissing his face again, waking him up from the delicious trans you put him under. “Babyyyy…”, you whispered. “Wakey wakey”. “Mmmm”, he moaned, slowly opening his eyes to your soft kisses. “Lets get you in bed love”, you spoke, making sure you weren’t too loud to pull him out of his relaxed mood. It really took a lot for Kakashi to relax and you would kill yourself if you ruined it right now. “Nooo”, he whined, the out of character whining making you giggle a little. “Baby, you can’t stay in here, you’re getting all pruny”. “Please baby…just stay with me for a little longer”, he fussed. “I’m not going anywhere goofy. I just need to get you out of this tub”, you laughed. “Oh”, was all he said, huffing in disapproval for having to move his body. Helping him stand up, you wrapped him in a fresh towel, leaving him to wipe himself down while you went to fetch some clean slippers for him. When you came back you found him still standing on the exact same position you left him in, a little glint of mischief in his eyes. “Kakashi you’re still wet?”, you spoke, placing the slippers down so he could step into them. “I thought you were going to wipe me down?”, he asked, his face wearing the normal casual look he always had, expect this time you could see him pout a little. “Kashi you couldn’t just do it yourself?”, you asked in disbelief. “No. I couldn’t”, was all he said, unwrapping himself to hand you the towel. “Omg what a fucking baby”, you mused, taking the towel from his hand so you could start patting him dry, paying extra attention to his private area and toes. “Your baby”, he randomly grumbled, while you tossed it in the laundry basket and handed him a robe.

Finally laying in bed Kakashi was dressed in nothing but a pair of puppy printed boxers, while you had on a sweater and a pair of grey undies. You couldn’t believe the whining you heard from the bathroom as you finished cleaning up, coming out to see Kakashi just laying there on the bed, his arms and legs sprawled out like he was dying. “Y/n! Hurryyyyy”, he called, not realizing you stood right in the bathroom doorway. You know you could be a big baby but he was superior at this. “Princessssss!”, he called again “Come quic-“, he called before you cut him off. “I’m right here love”, you laughed, watching him turn his head in the slightest to see you standing there. “Oh okay”, he softly said, “Come to me”. Walking over to him you began talking, “Kashi just rest a little and I’ll be right over to cuddle okay”, “But you know I can’t fall asleep if it’s not in your arms”, he said, pulling you closer to him, man even if he was tired he was still strong. “What nonsense is that Kashi, you always sleep just fine without me ho-”, you started to say but he simply hushed you with a single finger on your lips, a short moment before you both burst out in laughter. Kakashi pulling you into him and rolling on top of you so you were trapped, his face nuzzling your bosom and hand holding yours as he began to relax a little more. You sighed in defeat, running your fingers in his hair which you knew would take him out. Hearing him mumble stopped your hand in his hair, making him whine out in frustration. “Kashi I can’t hear you if your face is buried in my chest. “Okay fine, please take off your sweater. It’s too much for me”, he complained, tugging on it like he had not a single bitty bit of strength to even fathom the fact that you wore this skin barrier. Rolling your eyes you did as he asked, “of course baby, there you go”, you said, your upper body now completely bare. Slowly he started nipping and sucking on your breasts while you ran your fingers through his hair and before long, you could hear him softly breathing, his kisses having stopped a long time ago, but those left you a little sleepy too. Yawning, you looked down at him nuzzled between your breasts, smiling at how cute he was tonight. He was your boyfriend and you’d spoil him with as much attention and affection as possible.

#naruto imagines #soft kakashi #kakashi naruto #kakashi fluff #kakashi x reader #naruto fluff

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ike-bana · 3 years

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request from @tanakaslefttitty: ✨🧋Hey! Could I request headcanons for Porco x reader (childhood friends to lovers au) please? 🧋✨

Childhood friends to lovers Headcanons (Porco x gn!Reader)

Cw: mentions of infidelity/cheating(not from Porco), modern au, mentions of emotional manipulation(Also, not from Porco), Porco is very over-protective of you and and slightly yandere-ish?(he doesn't kill anyone, just beats em up). One use of the word "skank" and "douchebag"

Song inspiration: Treat you better by Shawn Mendes

A/N : As you may probably not know, I may not write these requests in a specific order. It all just depends on which one I get the most inspiration for at the moment. So if you sent a request prior to this one please be patient. Reader is gender neutral since there was no specification but the word pretty is used to describe the reader. Also please don't hate Pieck ,she's only here for minor plot device😭🙈.

Summary: Headcanons of you and Porco going from childhood friends to lovers!

-You and Porco have been best friends ever since you were toddlers. Your dads were both business partners and close friends and they tended to visit each very often which led to you both hanging out with each other

-You had other friends sure but none were as loyal as Porco

-He would always be there to protect you, beating up those other kids who had dared to pick on you. Sometimes he almost took it too far and you had to tell him to stop

-Nevertheless, you were both inseparable , you went to the same schools together even the same college

-He had harbored feelings for you as soon as you started hanging out with him, you were so pretty and intelligent. Always knowing how he felt and what he was thinking. You could read him like an open book and it shocked him, as no one ever could

-The only thing you probably didn't notice about him was the fact that he was hopelessly in love with you but he'd never admit to it. It was either he was very good at hiding it or you just didn't notice

-Even when you started to date other people, he was always there to make sure you didn't get with the wrong person. Scaring off any guy he got a bad vibe from and beating up the idiotic ones who hurt you. You somehow had an inexplicable tendency to attract the wrong people

-He would tell you that he was just concerned about you and not that he was jealous. He told himself that he didn't mind if you loved someone else, as long as you were happy ,he'd be satisfied. Well at least that was what he told himself

-When you had finally thought that you had met the hypothetical "one", he was happy for you. He didn't get any warning signs for this one nor did he perceive a bad aura.

-Maybe this was actually the right guy for you and he'd support you no matter what, or so he thought.

-Nothing could prepare him for the moment you burst into his apartment with fresh tears streaming down your face

-His eyes widened and his mouth was left agape, he immediately took you over to his couch and began to hug you

-You had explained everything to him, not missing a single detail. Apparently your supposed boyfriend was nothing but absolute skank. He had been cheating on you ever since you started dating and had been emotionally manipulating you to stay with him. You had had enough when you found out that he cheated on you with Pieck, your roommate and good friend of yours

-If he said he wasn't angry then he'd be the biggest liar on the planet. He was absolutely fuming. He was definitely going to snap that jerk's neck when he was done comforting you.

-But then again, this had made him realize something. All these years, you had never met someone who loved you as much as you deserved to be loved. No matter how much he wanted to deny it, he felt...no, he knew he could do that. He could actually be that person

-You were right by his side all this time and he never told you how he felt, he'd always just brush it off and assume you didn't return his affection, but did he ever find out? did you ever tell him that? then why? why hadn't he ever confessed to you?

-Thoughts plagued his mind as you shook him slightly , noticing that he had zoned out. He had to do it, he had to try, he couldn't let you end up with another douchebag like your current ex. He couldn't deny it anymore, he truly did want to be with you. He didn't need you to be in another failed relationship to realize this

-And so confess is what he did, he poured out every itty bitty detail, from the moment he had first met you, to the times when he'd protect you from those people. To how you always know what's on his mind and how you make smile every time, even to minor details like how your nose always scrunches up anytime he told a really bad uncle joke. He had said so much that he was even shocked that he was able to say all this .

-You were equally a shocked but then you started to sob.

-He was terrified that he had said something wrong and he immediately pulled you to his chest

-You threw weak punches at his chest as you continued to sob uncontrollably . You soft voice asking him why he had not told you sooner. You could have avoided all the unnecessary stress and heartbreak

-Porco was definitely surprised to find out that you had felt the same all this while but you chose to keep your feelings to yourself, as you thought he only saw you as a little sibling

-"So you mean to tell me that all this while we both loved each other but we were too dense to notice?"

-"well...yes pretty much" You giggled

-He was over the moon, although it took a while, he had finally mustered up the courage to confess and the person of his dreams loved him too.

-He wasted no time in cupping your cheeks(the one's on your face you naughty children) and planting a well deserved kiss on your soft/chapped lips. Not before asking for your consent of course. And you had returned the kiss with as much passion

-He had always vowed that he would protect you and support you, even if you couldn't be with him and now that you were his ,It gave him a new sense of determination to always be by your side and make you happy for as long as he was alive

-Although right now, he had some legs to break first😄

Wow, that was longer than I expected, well I hope you liked it @tanakaslefttitty. It took me only a couple of hours to write which is quite surprising as I'm normally quite slow . Just a reminder to all my readers that you are all wonderful people who deserve to be loved and treated like the special people that you are. And if anyone ever cheats on you or breaks your heart, just send me their address 🙃🔪

#porco x reader #aot x gn!reader #Porco x gn! reader #mentions of infidelity #mentions of cheating #attack on titan x reader #modern au #childhood friends #overprotectiveness #request #mentions of emotional manipulation

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fundielicious-simblr · 3 years

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(Adalynn's POV)

Back to normal life I go! Getting to see my family at Harvestfest was so fulfilling and upbuilding, every year the family gets bigger and it’s amazing to see! My parents are definitely in their favourite season of life - being grandparents! Though they might be outnumbered quite heavily, they are truly in their element when surrounded by all their grandchildren and make time for each and every grandchild. Getting to announce my pregnancy as well as get the news from Kyleigh, Zoe, and Amira was also such a blessing to me! Whilst it was great to be with family around the holidays, we had to come home and get back to the real world. Waking up early to make breakfast before all the boys wake up is probably one of my favourite times of the day, I listen to hymns as I prepare breakfast as well as do the meal prep for lunch and dinner.

When the boys wake up is when the chaos starts, though they’ve all been asleep they get up and chat as if they have things they need to fill each other in on! I’ll never get tired of hearing them chatting away at the dining table, even if every now and again Mason or i will need to step in and remind them to be nice. Being out in the garden in the fresh air is also something I enjoy, the change in seasons happened so quick that I didn’t spend as much time in the garden as I should have. It’s great having fresh fruit and veggies available to us in our garden, it definitely helps cut our grocery shopping bill down by a bit and every bit helps when you’ve got 9 people to feed (including one growing a baby)! I did our bi-weekly grocery shop and spent almost $400, so finding ways to lower the food shop bill is definitely an on-going project.

This new baby definitely hanan hasn’t hesitated to remind me that there's a new baby about to join the family, usually at a very opportune time. The other day I had to expertly dodge toddlers to make it to the bathroom in time when afternoon sickness hit! I'm basically at the end of my 1st trimester now, meaning I'm hoping for my belly to properly pop sometime soon. Each pregnancy has been definitely different in terms of how my body shows the physical pregnancy symptoms, with this pregnancy you wouldn't even know I'm expecting if I didn't tell you. I'm excited for my belly to pop though, it gives me an obvious excuse/reason for the extra weight gain 😂 People ask us if we’re going to find out the gender, but with this pregnancy being my 7th and having all boys with my previous pregnancies, I feel safe in the assumption that this baby will also be a boy.

In other news, Mason's sister Molly got married! We'd been praying for this day for some time now and we are so blessed that it happened without a hitch! She's around 5 years younger than Mason, so we never really thought about when the Lord would show her who she'd marry, especially when you think about the fact that not everyone has marriage on the books for them. She met Elijah Olson when she was working as a camp guide along with some of her friends during a youth retreat that she attended when she was younger and outgrew as she aged. Elijah and his family live in Oasis Springs, meaning she's moving from down the road to a few hours away! Whilst we're sad to see her go, we couldn't be happier for her finding her love and starting a new life with him.

It was such an experience seeing Aaron and Angie give away their last child and only daughter away to be married, they've done such a good job raising both Mason and Molly, that they can truly look back and be proud of how they've raised their children who've grown into Godly adults! Ever since i first met them, I've taken Molly under my wing and treated her the way I treat my younger sisters, so watching her grow up and get married was an emotional day for me as well! Molly appointed me as her matron of honour and it was such a blessing to be standing by her on her special day, she'd come over with Angie and we'd help plan all the itty bitty wedding details late into the night once the boys were tucked into bed. I helped host her bridal shower along with her maid of honour, as well as helping coordinate the decorating of the church whenever I could.

My forever wedding date! Every wedding that we go to, especially family weddings that we help plan and execute, takes me back to our wedding all those years ago. 13 years and 7 (almost 8) children down the line, I could do this forever and ever with this man!

#quiverfull sims #quiver full sims #fundie sims #fundiesims #modest sims #homeschool sims #sims 4 legacy #collins family #collins legacy #gen 3 #Mason and Adalynn #gen 4 #post #once again this was late #luckily I’ve got the next 3 posts done #need to update the family tree AGAIN #also want to include more detail #because i enjoy giving myself more work

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dorki-c · 3 years

Text

Fuck him up (if he hurts you)

Characters: Dabi, Fem.(Reader), Toga, Mr. Compress, Giran

Relationship: Dabi and (Reader)

A/N: Hey! I’m finally done with this one! Whoop! Whoop! It took a little while but I’m glad its done because to be honest...I really enjoyed writing this, but, I have other things that require my attention. Also! Happy belated bday Dabi!

As always, PLEASE REBLOG AND LIKE! (ALSO COME JOIN MY VALENTINES EVENT, ALL YOU NEED TO DO IS CLICK HERE!)

TW: Threatening, Swearing and Cheating

Does anybody know the stages of getting over your cheating significant other?

It all starts out with denial- how bittersweet that filthy fucking word is-, although it doesn’t last long, when once you managed to eat at least five tubs of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream whilst watching the last show of some shitty soap opera, the next stage comes to bite your ass, anger- also known as throwing or burning your exe’s belongings that they left; however, I prefer burning it (they won’t be able to sell it if they come back).

Once those first two (rather tough) stages fly pass, this third one was like hitting the jackpot for me, but probably not for you, as the mental gamble caused lots of sexually frustrated people to bargain- to play the dice, you shall, but even gamblers don’t use the ‘third time is the charm’ as its utter bullshit- and then--!

OH GOD, HERE COMES FIVE MORE TUBS OF BEN & JERRY’S ICECREAM! THIS ONE IS A REAL KICKER! SOMEBODY HELP ME! THE LIVING ROOM IS FUCKING FLOODING WITH DEPRESSION- Yup, that was you five tubs of ice cream ago, maybe some chocolate might help…

At last, when the cleaning crew arrived, and you managed to accept- with the sunshine glowing down on your skin after four long stages of shit- with the fresh thought of buying a couple dresses that you saw on sale from that one adorable itty bitty corner shop.

But I’m not like that.

And here’s why in (you guessed it) 5 stages.

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1. Discovery.

Rolling their shoulders backwards, a blanket fell backwards as a tall silhouette ghosted from the bedroom door that they left open.

When the bathroom light blinked to life, (y/n) faintly heard the screeching of the door shut on itself. Though, she knew her beloved boyfriend had to go to ‘work’, what she didn’t know was who made his phone ping at 7:15 in the morning.

Scooting over to the opposite side of the bed, blankets stuck to sweat-ridden skin as they coiled around her legs similarly to a snake and ensnared them to stay stuck and stationary. The plush pillows tried to lull her back to sleep. However, (y/n) wasn’t having any of it.

Reaching out to grab Dabi’s phone- even if he didn’t give you permission- the time was as you predicted, though the contents of his notifications bleeping up was something you didn’t predict. The background of his lock screen was something to behold as it was a picture of your concentrated form doodling in a sketchbook whilst a pale white cup stood beside two fresh slices of cake.

Shakily revealing the messaging app, there was around four or five unknown contacts, all listed under the people’s numbers.

Though one of them caught your eye.

Opening the chatroom, your free hand clutched the blankets.

Dabi is going to regret making you break the way you did that morning.

(He has no choice in doing so.)

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2. Kicking the asshole out.

“Toga…? C-can you come over, please.”

The TV presented the small-town news that had little to no intervention though that didn’t mould the female into a wish less mess where a gentle hand went to work and smooth out ensnared knots. “Are you okay now, (y/n)-chan?” You never heard Toga murmur before, but that’s the perks of being alive now.

(Y/n) released the trembling bubble of air out of her lungs and into the atmosphere, readying herself for that front door to open. Shaking your head to respond to Toga’s question, a small huff was released out of the other female’s chest.

The blonde female knew why you still weren’t okay.

Whoever walks through that door will have a profound effect on whatever will happen to (y/n).

However, with the slight nudge of her friend’s hand pinching the side of her sensitive waist, a yelp was released in surprise whereas the blonde villain giggled at the reaction. “Your so easy to scare, (y/n)-chan!” Toga loved to tease you, but in this time frame it wasn’t to make you feel uncomfortable but rather the opposite.

She wanted to make your thunder stricken heart rumble with rage in an unknown and bizarre way- but to also remind that you weren’t alone-, though, you had this bubbly and extra crazy best friend who brought over too many sweets for your stomach to handle alongside the annoyance that you hadn’t noticed Dabi’s strange and desolate nature.

As Toga picked up another opened bag of candy (I think they were ‘eclairs’), unwrapped the golden covering as the crinkling plastic fumbled like sparks dancing across the fingers in a tantalising rhythm. In an attempt to grab the bag, Toga was about to throw it across the room so you could get off her because, and I quote “You’re killing me with your weight!”, how lovely that compliment is for somebody who’s blood is like a glacier falling apart after a storm chipped the exterior and revealed the icy truth underneath.

And may God cover their eyes, as that chilling sharp edge at the tip of the glacier crumbles under Mother Nature’s will (so does the female when the familiar screech of the door revealing whoever is walking through reaches her ears).

Sluggishly dripping back onto the couch where at least three of the seven stocked up with fluff blankets- wrapped around drooped shoulders- had slid onto the floor, Toga made an effort to pick them up and stuff (piling) them next to the drowsy (y/n).

“I’m home, dollface!” A familiar voice hollered.

When both of the female’s heard that voice, there was no turning back to the past.

(Y/n) glanced to a duffel bag next to the couch, then glanced towards the teenager’s sinking rage as the blonde’s lips started to slip into a scowl.

A step almost turned into two, however, was held back by the puffy eyed female. “C-c-can I handle this…please?” They whimpered.

Toga really needs to gain a resistance to (y/n) cuteness when she’s sad.

Grabbing the duffel bag, two slippers shuffled (real smooth) around the couch to enter the hallway that led to the front door. Exactly where Dabi was about to take off his shoes.

“I recommend not taking your shoes off.” The pair of blue eyes looked up in confusion. “What? So, I can’t take off my own shoes in our home?” It sounded like a tease, but what if there was another meaning behind it?

Dabi, however, knew that familiar look of sharp-edges eyes where the glossy swirling of a singular emotion led to- and his teasing didn’t make the situation, he’s found himself in, any more light-hearted.

“This isn’t your home anymore,” Hissed (y/n), where (the fuck) did she get that attitude from?

“Who told you that you can throw me o—” The heavy duffel bag clutched in (y/n) clammy hands thud against Dabi’s chest, where his feet slid against the front door’s matt- his legs trembled at the impact the bag had on his chest- along with the rising cough that caught up to him after fleeing from a hero.

“Nobody—told me what to do.” Another sniff ensued, “But, I figured out the truth.” An eyebrow twitched upwards in anticipation as his hand bawled against his hip.

“Then tell me, what’s this big ass ‘truth’ you figured out?” Retorted the male with turquoise eyes watching her head droop towards the ground to hide something.

Raising it after a momentary pause, she glowered “You’re a bloody cheater, Touya.” When tears stained the red canvas again.

“Oh, so this is what it’s about…” Voice as nonchalant as shallow murky river water, “Do you even realise why I did it?” Rolling his eyes, two fingers wormed their way towards a special ring on her left hand before it hit the ground.

“I don’t want to know why.”

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3. Jealousy

It was sudden, quick, and loud how Toga came into your (lonely) apartment.

Bang went the door against the wall and crash went the multiple shoes from the shoe cabinet as they thudded against the floor.

“(Y/N)-CHAN! I HAVE GOOD NEWS!” Her shout was louder than the moans you would usually make when it was a pleasurable night with your (new) ex, however you shouldn’t dwell on past relationships.

Only moving your eyes slightly from the book gripped tightly in your hands, Toga sauntered over holding a suspiciously large bag, this only led one ping-pong ball bouncing back to another ping-pong ball within the crevasses of your mind.

Placing a ripped piece of paper in the book, it snapped shut, “Who did you kill?” questioned (y/n)- knowing that when Toga finds something, she will resort to violence, no matter the cost-, however the sweet smile presented as a defence for whatever action she committed was enough dull your concern.

“Not telling ya!” Then getting a knife out- wait, where did that even come from-, Toga stabbed into the black plastic bag and tore it open with many- I mean tons- of clothes sliding out of the bag and becoming a miniature avalanche in the small space that is your living room.

“…H-how?” Sputtered (y/n), Toga replied: “Big sis’ Mags let us borrow some of her clothes!”

(Y/n) can only imagine how Toga managed to convince Magne to let her borrow some clothes off her, and by clothes, (y/n) could only assume its short skirts and dresses.

“But!” Added Toga, “we have to wait for Mr.C to pop up!”

Great, even Mr. Compress knows about your breakup with Dabi.

“Fine.”

Sitting pretty on a kitchen chair, a small brush lightly dabbed a small hint of colour against the rooftop of your eyes. “Why are we doing this, again?” Murmured the relaxed female as a small dress laid boringly over the torso where it edged closely to showing the backside of her thighs.

Chuckling in response to her inquisitive comment, the villain grabbed liquid eyeliner, although it was smacked out of his hand and replaced with pencil eyeliner matched with a scowl from his subject.

“Liquid eyeliner is cursed, don’t get that shit near me.”

“My, my, even somebody as classy as I wouldn’t offensively smack such an object—”

Oh boy, here we go again.

“Shush, I could easily get Big Sis Magne to beat your ass if you use that tone with me, sir.”— “Oh heavens no! I think Magne would pick my side out of the two of us!”— “Oh really now?”— “I believe—”

Another door slammed open and in stormed Toga in a confident catwalk down the hallway just to profoundly exclaim; “NOPE! SHE’LL CHOOSE ME AS THE CHOSEN ONE!”

Cue the laughter.

Before the sun was ready to roll itself out of the closet, the patchwork villain made his way under the thick cover of darkness to a certain broker’s office.

Pushing it open to let the light of the office room scream in his eyes before he even had the chance to speak, the older male that greeted him, offered him a seat.

“Hey Dabi, what brings you here to my humble abode?” Giran spoke out as the glistening cup of coffee placed in front of the wanderer reflected the light into its murky brown ripples. “I need you to trace this number to its origin, and quick.” Anxiously sliding his phone to showcase your number, the broker twitched his brow upwards.

“First and foremost, where’s the cash?” A thick wad of yen slammed against the table.

“Happy now?”— “Very much so!” Scowling at Giran’s happy chirp, the broker worked his magic on the burner phone to effectively trace the number back to your location, where Dabi soon enough made his way towards the destination you were at.

He doesn’t know why he’s doing this…

Nor why he still keeps the ring…

However, he knows what he’s going to say next.

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

4. Anger

Simmering and low crackles of something in the kitchen of your apartment awoke the female from her drunken slumber.

What was being made and why does it smell so familiar? The waft of the meal being created swarmed the first stimulant within the hungover mind of yours truly as the wavering warmth rustled around your legs in an unspoken persuasive whisper to stay in bed.

However, curiosity killed the cat and also brought it back.

Two feet tapped the floor in alerted silence.

Tiptoeing across the room, a hand clenched the side of the doorway when two eyes surfed the surroundings outside of her den.

The sizzling stopped, with a small snap of fire going out.

At the same time this happened, it was then when she figured out who was in her kitchen: Him.

Him, with his tall stance that could make for a ladder to climb on or him with his broad shoulders that look like they were bricks squished underneath his skin, where his paired raven hair familiarly spiked up.

“What are you doing here?” If it wasn’t for the delicious food he was making, then you would’ve killed him on sight. A lacklustre glance at the female, he uses one of her spatulas to move the bacon from the frying pan onto a plate with plump golden coloured scrambled eggs.

“You were drunk, I brought you home, and am now making your hangover breakfast.” Placing the plate next to your arm resting against the counter, with another glance in your direction, Dabi made a finishing blow in the words of: “Since you can’t cook for shit.”

Oh boy, he knows you too well to expect your immediate reaction: anger.

From the built-up rage that started to stack up from days of unrest (and being bloated because of the several tubs of Bens & Jerry’s ice cream), it all started to splutter out of control.

“Oh-- So now your fucking attacking me after the shit you put me through?”

“Why should you know?” (Y/n) turned sour at his comment, “’Why’ I should know?!”

From the nearest counter, there was an empty glass. You took advantage of the potential weapon held it up ready for it to slam against the ground.

“(Y/n) -- put the glass down.” Warned the patchwork male.

With the tips of her ears feeling ever so hot, it felt like the pressure escalating within her ears caused only for her protests to be heard even through the pause of silence.

“(Y/n).” A small twitch of one of his feet made (y/n) flinch backwards. “Com’ on, I know you don’t want to hurt me.” He took another step toward, her grip tightened on the glass cup.

“Do you even know why I’m here?”

“No,” Moving her hand higher, Dabi took another step forward, (Y/n) took another step back, “And I don’t want to kno—” Blubbering a bit of salvia as the female attempted to speak, though it was incoherently heard through squished cheeks.

“Listen, for fucks sake,” Electric blue eyes pierced into your soul like a spear, it’s quite hilarious: You once loved those blue eyes of his, you once worshipped the feeling of his eyes raking down your nude body before- as they took in the sight of pleasure squirming and tightening underneath those diligently flexible fingers-, but those days are over.

He can worship your goddamn forgiveness if he’s going to restrain you like this.

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

5. Forgiveness

“That’s what happened.”

Two legs of your own were crossed over each other like two birds of a feather.

“Are you being honest with me?”

His hand tapped the table as he sat across from you.

“Yes, I’m being honest.”

Breathing inwards and releasing a slow, practiced breath. She glanced at the male’s awaiting expression.

“Okay…”

Biting his ruined lip, the raven-haired male let out a breath of relief.

“Will you forgive me?”

She wishes she could.

“I’m not so sure yet…”

Dabi looked to the side to see (y/n) with both of his eyes.

“But, I’ll give you one last try.”

Taglist:

@glitterfreezed, @in-this-house-we-stan-izuku, @haredabi, @orenjineki

JOIN THE VALENTINES WRITING EVENT HERE!

#tw: swearing #TW: Cheating #Fem! reader #dabi mha #dabi x reader #dabi imagine #dabixyou #Dabi lives rent free in my mind #mild yandere! reader #dorki talks like a dabi simp #dabi lives rent free in my mind #villain x reader #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #bnhaxyou #mha #mha x reader

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canary3d-obsessed · 4 years

Text

Shen Wei Serving Lewks, Part 7

(Masterpost)

Look 30

Swamp coat...no wait, hang on.

Upon close inspection, this is not Swamp Coat, but a different loose trench coat in Swamp color. What the fuck, Shen Wei! Borrow one of your boyfriend’s coats again, pretty please?

Both times this tunic/coat outfit has appeared on Shen Wei, Zhao Yunlan was wearing this gorgeous tailored denim number, with perfectly fitted shoulders and a nipped in waist. Sigh.

Anyway, Swamp Coat 2.0 is nicer than 1.0, and Shen Wei is wearing it with a with an immaculate super-casual loose white tunic with a band collar, so he looks beautiful even though this ensemble is decidedly meh.

As Shen Wei and Zhao Yunlan get closer, Shen Wei’s wardrobe becomes looser and more casual, which is probably good for his psyche so...okay.

In addition to layers of loose fabric, this look features a checkered nosebleed hanky and the angriest face he has ever turned on Zhao Yunlan.

Along with definitely not kissing

(More behind the cut!)

And definitely not having a massive grope session like the last time Shen Wei got between Zhao Yunlan’s knees on this lab table.

Once the anger passes, however, this is a very good look for making out in a taxi with a boy who has excellent taste in coats.

Bonus Look 2: ZY’s Turn to Be Angry

This look belongs to Zhao Yunlan, who is wearing a single soft layer with a wide exposed neck so he can have an intense argument and hand touching with Shen Wei. This is Zhao Yunlan’s at home look, without the extra layer (vest or jacket, in a tough fabric) he always wears except when he’s alone with Shen Wei.

Shen Wei is like, no it’s fine honey, slicing my arm open is just a thing I do so I can eventually die spectacularly. Also I drained my life force for you, don’t make a big deal of it you know I hate when you make a big deal of things.

For once Zhao Yunlan gets to be the overprotective, upset partner in the relationship and also maybe the big spoon for a change. In keeping with his personality, he expresses himself explosively...

...while Shen Wei quietly leaks out emotions like the black smoke leaking from his wrist.

This is Zhao Yunlan without his armor, his swagger, his smile; this might be the only time he is as vulnerable with Shen Wei as Shen Wei (always) is with him.

Look 31

Shen Wei wears his blue double-breasted wedding crasher suit to begin his long, long relationship with this pillar.

This look features chains, more chains, and long conversations with ridiculous smoke effects.

Bonus Look 3 - ZY Rescue Trench

Now THAT is a trench coat. Do you hear me, Shen Wei's Swamp Coats?

Hilariously, we are meant to believe this superbly fitted coat with its itty bitty waist and this perfectly sized gun belt are what Zhao Yunlan took off of this schlubby guard. Zhao Yunlan DOES have magic powers!

This is a good outfit for convincing your lover to give up his relationship with a malevolent pillar and come home with you.

Did I hastily photoshop Smoke Dude out of that rescue picture? I did.

Is this just a gratuitous picture of freshly-unchained Shen Wei looking upset and Zhao Yunlan comforting him? It is. Shout out to all the H/C fans!

Look 32

This look is a grey suit with a white grid pattern, and striped red and blue accent fabric on the pocket and under the collar. This was briefly featured way back in the trauma cake arc. Here Shen Wei is also wearing a fresh cravat in grey tones.

Shen Wei had been wearing a narrower range of outfits lately because he doesn't have enough drawers at Zhao Yunlan's place, so he must have made a brief stop at his apartment to get some more things.

At home with Zhao Yunlan, Shen Wei wears this look with a bare face and neck, chilling in his white shirt with the collar stiffeners. I'm going to call them that forever; you can't stop me. Note how the shirt has darts (the vertical seams from his shoulder blades to his waist) so that it fits perfectly across the back.

This is a good look for lovingly preparing fresh fruit for your candy-addicted beloved and then watching him while he sleeps.

Shen Wei’s ass is now chainless, alas, but these trousers are doing yeoman’s werk work.

While Zhao Yunlan sleeps, Shen Wei takes the opportunity to check up on his special pendant necklace that he bought at a bong shop when he was in college.

Back in the full ensemble, Shen Wei is ready to have a haberdashery throwdown with his jerkass father-in-law, who normally has serious game in a plum coat and patterned vest.

Today Pop Zhao has unexpectedly said “fuck it” and worn a brown sweater and beige trench.

Don’t encourage Shen Wei’s boring taste in coats, Pop Zhao!

After easily winning the best-dressed award at tea, Shen Wei accessorizes his look with cheekbones that could cut glass, and his best “oops, busted” face when Zhao Yunlan sees him hanging out with the parent ZY hates so much that he has the same job and facial hair as him.

That leads to a wonderfully layered interaction, in which Shen Wei just kind of stands in front of Zhao Yunlan refusing to engage with his need for control, while Zhao Yunlan roasts Shen Wei for being untrustworthy...and then offers him a ride back to the office.

Guardian is so good at capturing the constantly-fluctuating state of a deep relationship, in which you can be fighting on one level and totally fine on another level; where you’re going to have a donnybrook with your lover but first you’re going to get a decent meal into them.

Skipping!

We’re skipping over the increasingly bloody tee-shirt ensemble that appears in the final episodes. That look says, “anti-gay narrative tropes suck.”

Instead, check out this beauty that Shen Wei wore for one poorly-lit scene early in the show. This is the only time he wears a fully-matched 3-piece suit and he SLAYS in it. And then puts it in mothballs forever.

I guess when you’re wearing an outfit the first time your sweetheart breaks into your apartment and disorganizes your panty drawer, you only want to wear it for the most special occasions after that.

Look 33

After a bunch of unnecessary yet compellingly-acted death, Shen Wei and Zhao Yunlan meet up outside of time and space in a Windows 95 screensaver.

[That is a Gen X joke. OP is old.]

Shen Wei’s look for this meeting is the same one he wore the day they met in the modern world - the double-breasted 10-button vest, with arm garters and now also (SIGH) tears in his eyes. Instead of that, here is an infinite loop of Shen Wei and Zhao Yunlan talking over dinner in their kitchen, because screw Episode 40.

Look 34

Exiting the screensaver, Shen Wei and Zhao Yunlan fall out into the AU of your choice, because they realize that they left the wormhole together last time so it shouldn’t be too difficult to leave it together this time. They can just hold hands while they leave, for fuck’s sake.

In the AU of your choice they get married in these beautiful suits, as seen in Bazaar magazine.

Shen Wei’s look here features tousled hair and the glasses-free look he prefers when he’s with his true love. This is the first black suit we’ve seen him in, and he’s doing fine work in it, particularly with the gold bola thingy he’s wearing at the collar. Zhao Yunlan is so hot here that only Shen Wei dares to touch him.

Look 35

For the beach party they throw for their AU friends and neighbors a month after the wedding, (also courtesy of Bazaar’s photoshoot) Shen Wei chooses this short-legged suit with white canvas shoes, a lovely display of calf and a sprinkling of leg hair.

This look says, I love you forever and I'm pretty sure I can give you a spinal adjustment using only my leg muscles.

Shen Wei has replaced his bong-shop pendant with a tasteful diamond bar necklace, which was an apology gift from Zhao Yunlan after ZY intentionally accidentally set fire to Swamp Coats 1 through 4.

Near his heart Shen Wei is wearing a tie pin (sans tie) that’s made out of a lollipop stick.

Preview

The next post features Shen Wei’s cosplay looks including Black Robe Envoy and Ye Zun!

#guardian #weilan #zhu yilong #bai yu #shen wei #zhao yunlan #guardian spoilers #shen wei serving lewks #canary3d-original #zhen hun #menswear #c-drama #bl drama #my gifs #my stills #guardian memes #guardian gifs #bazaar does the best fixits #goddamn typos

236 notes · View notes

justlookfrightened · 4 years

Note

4, 5, or 35 ? Because I’m indecisive as hell and love your writing.

From this prompt list: 4. “If I die, I’m haunting you first.”; 5. “But I’ve never told you that before.” ; and 35. “Oh honey, I’d never be jealous of you.”

Bitty played hockey and Samwell and went on to be a cookbook author; Jack went directly into the NHL.

Bitty’s eyes traveled up the the shelves of the cupboard, wondering what ingredients he could reasonably expect someone who did not cook or bake for a living to have.

Flour, of course, if they were volunteering to be on a baking show. Most likely all purpose. Sugar (white) and salt (iodized). Butter. Maybe they usually used margarine, but Bitty would not compromise on that. Butter surely counted as a common ingredient. Shortening, too.

What about spices? Most people probably had cinnamon in their cabinets, even if it was twelve years old and devoid of flavor. Would nutmeg or allspice be too much? Maybe.

And this contestant had requested a fruit pie. If they were going for common ingredients, that would most likely mean apple. Apples were nearly always plentiful and cheap at supermarkets, so if this pie was going to use fresh fruit (and it was), it would be apple.

Bitty had misgivings about appearing on “So You Think You Can Bake,” the new Food Network show that pitted expert bakers against celebrities. The idea was that the expert would develop a recipe they thought was suitable for an inexperienced home cook.

Then the expert and the celebrity would both make the dish in separate kitchens while being filmed.

The expert baker and celebrity contestant would have their creations scored anonymously. If the celebrity chef received at least eighty percent of the score of the celebrity baker, they won money for the baker to keep and the celebrity to donate to charity. Total scores counted toward the final competition at season’s end, when the three best pairs would be brought back for the final, competing for a $50,0000 prize.

There were so many things that could go wrong. Bitty could get paired with a celebrity chef with no palate, or no coordination, or even no real interest in winning. Some people could mess up a perfectly good recipe by not measuring accurately, or doing steps in the wrong order, or even mistaking the salt for the sugar. If the celebrity chef messed up, it wouldn’t just look bad for them. It would throw shade on Bitty, whose job, after all, was to explain how to bake in a way that people would understand. Relatable was his brand.

But Eileen, the PR rep who handled his books for the publishing house, thought it would be a good idea.

“This show is literally made for you,” she said. “And the exposure would be great. Think of the campaign for your next book.”

So Bitty agreed. Then he found out who his assigned celebrity was.

“A hockey player?” Bitty asked. “Whose only memorable sound bite is ‘Eat more protein’? Which did not go viral for the reasons he thinks it did. I mean, I wasn’t expecting Beyonce, or even Taylor Swift, but why not a Kacey Musgraves?”

Bitty wasn’t at all bitter that, at 24, he no longer had regular access to an ice rink. He could pay to rent ice to figure skate, but it was hard to find the motivation since he was no longer in competition, and he hadn’t yet found a men’s league hockey team where he felt comfortable.

“I know Jack Zimmermann isn’t who most people think of as a home cook,” Eileen said. “But the producers were thrilled. They think he’ll bring on a whole new demographic.”

“How’d they rope him into it anyway?” Bitty asked, scrolling through interview after interview with Jack talking saying, “We win and lose as a team,” and “We have to protect the neutral zone and get the puck down low,” and “We need to keep our feet moving and have a shoot-first mentality.”

It was like they taught him six phrases in media training and he used them over and over again, in random order.

He wasn’t hard to look at, Bitty would give him that. And the physique -- yeah, his nutrition plan was definitely protein-heavy. Why would he agree to do a baking show?

“My agent said it would be a good idea,” Jack Zimmermann said when he and Bitty had their first meeting. “He said it would humanize me. Actually, he said it would be the beginning of an arc of character development I wasn’t expecting, but that’s just the way he is.”

The actual first meeting was in the green room, waiting to go on-set for the “first meeting” taping. Jack had been sitting in a chair along the wall when Bitty came in, reading an actual, honest-to-God book.

Bitty had to shove his phone in his pocket as he cleared his throat to get Jack’s attention. It seemed like Jack kept reading for a few seconds after he noticed Bitty, which was annoying, because the book would always be there, but Bitty was prepared to be gracious.

“Mr. Zimmermann? I’m Eric Bittle,” Bitty said. “We’re going to be working together. Pleased to meet you.”

“I know,” Jack said.

Okay.

“When we start the taping, I’m going to ask you about any experience you have baking, any favorite desserts, things you’ve always wanted to learn to make,” Bitty said. “Anything you want me to steer the conversation toward? Or stay away from?”

“Are we supposed to be doing this?” Jack said. “Talking, I mean.”

“Um, yes?” Bitty said. “It’s not like we’re concocting a fake story. We just want the on-camera talk to go smoothly. So have you baked before?”

“No.”

“Any favorite desserts?”

“I don’t really eat sweets.”

“Well, you’re going to have to eat something sweet,” Bitty said. “Anything you want to make?”

Jack shrugged.

“Honey, don’t take this the wrong way, but why are you here?” Bitty asked.

“Uh, you can call me Jack,” Jack said, then launched into his explanation about his agent, a man with the improbable name of John Johnson.

Bitty shook his head at that, and tried to keep the conversation going.

“You’re Canadian, right?”

“Dual citizenship,” Jack said. “But I mostly grew up in Montreal.”

“Anything special from back home?”

Then the assistant came to bring them on the set, dressed to look like a home kitchen, each of them seated at a table with mugs in front of them. The mugs just held water, but the audience wouldn’t see that; it was supposed to look like two friends talking over coffee.

Bitty decided to pick up the conversation where he left off in the green room, since it was the only thing he hadn’t struck out on already.

“So, Jack, I understand you’re from Montreal. Do have any memories of classic desserts or baked goods from your childhood?”

Jack paused and looked like he was really thinking, like he didn’t want to disappoint the producers.

“We used to have tarte au sucre at the holidays,” he finally said. “I liked that.”

“Sugar pie?” Bitty said, thankful that at least the cooking terms had stuck from his college French class. “We could do something with that.”

“But I’d like to do something that has some healthy ingredients,” Jack had said.

“Is fruit healthy enough?” Bitty asked. “Maybe a fruit pie? You might not know this, but that’s kind of my specialty.”

Jack had offered a smile at that, and said, “Good to know. Maybe we can win this thing, eh?”

The taping didn’t last long, and soon Bitty was collecting his things from the green room.

“Wait, Jack, I forgot to ask you, any allergies? I wouldn’t want to kill you for a silly TV show.”

“If I die, I’m haunting you first,” Jack said. “But no, no food allergies. Is there anything I should practice beforehand?”

“I don’t think I’m allowed to tell you that,” Bitty said, starting to feel like maybe Jack wasn’t as wooden as he’d seemed at first. He seemed to relax once the taping ended. Maybe this would be okay after all.

Bitty started by making an apple pie, trying to write down the steps as precisely as he could just as he did them.

It didn’t work.

Sure, he could measure and mix the dry ingredients for the crust, and tell Jack to make sure his butter and shortening were cold, but how could he explain the twisting motion for the pastry cutter? When he had to start by explaining what a pastry cutter was?

And how would Jack know when he was done cutting and should add the ice water? Bitty had read recipes over the years saying the mixture should look like everything from rough crumbs to small peas … which were not the same thing by a long shot. Bitty had learned what it should look like at his MooMaw’s elbow; sure, he’d tried to put it into words in his cookbooks, but there was a reason he always included photos.

Jack had said he’d never baked. He wouldn’t know what it should look like.

Bitty called the producers to ask if he could include pictures in the recipe he developed for Jack. The answer -- hand-drawn sketches were fine, as long he drew them himself, but no photographs -- was not encouraging.

Bitty started over and this time took a photograph of the dough mixture just before he added the water. He could use that to write a description, he decided. Then he had to think about how to explain when the dough was wet enough.

Once he had the dough made, the process for making the filling was easier. Peel and slice apples, coat with flour and a little cinnamon and sugar -- and, a last-minute brainstorm for Canadian Jack, a little maple syrup -- and set aside. He toyed with the idea of including maple sugar for the crust, but the studio pantry probably didn’t have real maple sugar. He could boil some syrup down -- but that wasn’t something Jack could (or would) do, probably. Better to just do an egg wash and sprinkle some sugar on for the sparkle.

The instructions for rolling out the dough were simple enough, provided Jack followed them. That was the hard part. Most people couldn’t seem to leave well enough alone with pie dough.

Bitty moved to his laptop and wrote at the top of the instructions:

“A general note on making pie dough. Do less than you think you need to. Don’t work it too much. If you do, it will be tough. So if you’re not sure if you should stop messing with it, stop.”

Then he did his best to put into words what it should like with all the fats cut in (“If you don’t see any powdery flour, it’s probably good”) and with the ice water added (“It should be moist, not wet”).

Then he thought about the top. Normally, people thought of lattices as being hard to do. But if the baker was methodical and followed directions, it wasn’t so bad. And it would be easier to put strips on top of the pie than to pick up the whole top crust and put it on intact. It didn’t really matter if the bottom was a mess; this wasn’t the Great British Bake-Off with Mary Berry and her hatred of soggy bottoms. The pie would be served from the dish, and no one would know if the bottom crust was torn and mended as long it still tasted good.

So, a nice, tightly woven lattice for the top. Bitty set to drawing a detailed diagram.

Bitty printed the recipe he developed -- all ten pages -- to bring with him and hand to Jack. He’d already supplied it to the producers to make sure they agreed all the ingredients were things a home cook would have in their pantry, or at least have ready access to.

“Real maple syrup?” the production assistant had asked. “What about something like Pillsbury pancake syrup? That’s what most people use.”

“My baker is Canadian,” Bitty argued. “He’d have the real stuff.”

“Fine, I guess.”

Bitty was dressed for TV in dark skinny jeans, a light T-shirt and a Samwell red button-down over it with red Chuck Taylors. The provided apron, he knew, would be beige with a dark red logo.

Jack came in dressed in charcoal gray tailored slacks and a light blue shirt, almost exactly the same color as his eyes. Yeah, he was good-looking. Bitty wasn’t sure if he would bring in the sports-loving young men the producers were hoping for, but it wouldn’t matter. The women would love him. And the gay boys like him. But no one ever counted them as their own demographic.

When the got into the studio, Bitty handed over the recipe.

Jack’s eyes widened when he saw how long it was.

“Does this take all day?” he asked.

“I can do it in about two hours,” Bitty said. “Counting chilling and baking time.”

“You’ll have three hours to complete the challenge,” the host said. “As long as you finish in that time, any differential in how long it takes won’t count against you.

Jack nodded, a determined set to his jaw. Bitty was almost glad they would be separated so he didn’t have to worry about cutting himself on that jawline.

Then Bitty was escorted to his studio kitchen, where he proceeded to make a pie, narrating each step, just like he was making a vlog post.

He made sure to turn the top of the bowl to the camera when he was done cutting the fats in, and again when he added the water.

“You see those streaks of butter and shortening?” he said, when he gathered the dough into disks to chill. “You want those to make flaky crust.”

He made sure to slice the apples evenly, and mix them gently with the flour and flavorings, then he rolled his dough out.

He clucked at himself -- but didn’t say anything -- when he realized he’d forgotten to tell Jack to make sure he had the thinnest possible layer of fat on his work surface before he scattered flour over it.

Then, once the pie was done, he actually slapped himself upside the head.

“I never said anything about covering the edges with foil at the beginning,” he said. “Poor guy is definitely gonna have burnt edges. Oh well.”

Bitty’s pie came out of the oven at the two-hour mark, and he donned oven mitts to be filmed carrying it into the judging room.

“You’ve got some time if you want to head to the green room relax,” the production assistant said. “Someone will come get you before Jack is ready to bring his pie in.”

Bitty flung himself onto the couch and groaned. He could have used the $5,000 prize from this stage of the competition to get ahead on his rent for a couple of months … and maybe even rent an ice rink for a couple of hours to clear his mind. He didn’t regret his choice of career -- writing cookbooks, running his vlog, making appearances like this -- but the money tended to come in fits and starts.

He realized he’d never even asked Jack what his charity was. The show must have asked him at some point, so Bitty was sure he’d find out eventually. He hoped Jack would donate to his chosen charity regardless. He could certainly afford it. The only real advantage for the charity to having Jack appear on the show was publicity. Well, and convincing people that straight, athletic young men could bake and enjoy it.

But Bitty forgot to tell him to use foil to guard the edges, so they probably wouldn’t advance, and it would all be Bitty’s fault. Jack -- he had to be competitive, right? -- well, it didn’t matter if hated Bitty. They hardly knew one another.

“Eric? Jack’s pie is done. Time to go to the judging room.”

Bitty roused himself from the sofa, resigned to his fate. If nothing else, he’d learned a lesson.

He took his place behind his pie and waited for Jack and his pie with its inevitable burnt edges.

He was sitting there when Jack came in, carrying his beautiful golden brown pie aloft. Jack set it on the empty cooling rack next to Bitty’s and stepped back.

It was beautiful. The lattice was maybe not quite as straight, not quite as even as Bitty’s, but it was close.

Bitty couldn’t help a pleased grin, first at the pie, then at Jack, who had finished with fifteen minutes to spare.

“Okay, you two. We’re going to break for lunch while Jack’s pie cools,” the production assistant said. “We need you back in an hour in the same clothes, so don’t mess them up.”

Bitty was about to head out when Jack said, “Want to grab a sandwich? There’s a place down the block.”

“Sure,” Bitty said. “I have some questions for you.”

“And me for you,” Jack said.

Once they had their food and settled at a table, Bitty said, “How did you keep the edges from burning?”

“I made foil collars,” Jack said.

“But I’ve never told you that before,” Bitty said.

“You always do it on your YouTube channel,” Jack said.

“Wait … you’ve seen … but you said you’d never baked,” Bitty said.

“I hadn’t,” Jack said. “That doesn’t mean I’ve never watched anyone else bake on YouTube. When Johnson said you were doing this, it seemed like a good opportunity to meet you.”

“To meet me?” Bitty really had to start thinking of some of his own words instead of just repeating Jack’s.

“Well, yeah,” Jack said. “Someone showed me your videos when you were at Samwell, and I was intrigued by a hockey player who baked. Made me wonder what it would have been like to be on a college team, or whether I’d develop any other interests.”

“Someone?”

Jack actually blushed. “My mother. She went to Samwell.”

It was almost a physical effort for Bitty to push that out of his head. Jack’s mother was … nope. Not going there.

“So you wanted to make pie because you’d see me make it before?”

“A lot,” Jack said. “But the instructions were really helpful.”

“I thought we’d lost it when I realized I’d never said anything about the foil,” Bitty admitted.

“But I figured you could make a donation to your charity anyway.”

Jack nodded.

“I plan on adding to it even if we win,” he said. “What do you want to do with the money? Bitty was not going to tell Jack Zimmermann that he needed money to pay his rent. Not this unexpected Jack Zimmermann, who for some reason had been interested in Bitty for years. Despite, Bitty reminded himself, being straight. Almost certainly.

“Some of it will buy ice time,” he said. “I miss skating, you know? I used to figure skate before I played hockey.”

“I’m not sure what I’d do if I couldn’t skate every day,” Jack said. “Sorry, maybe I shouldn’t say that. Don’t want to make you jealous.”

“Oh honey, I’d never be jealous of you,” Bitty said. ”I have the job I want. I just want to be able to skate for fun. Like you want to bake for fun, I guess.”

“I don’t know about that,” Jack said. “It was pretty stressful. I kept wanting to make it perfect, but you said not to overwork it. But maybe it would be more fun if it wasn’t being recorded for TV.”

“Maybe we could bake together sometime?” Bitty said.

“Then skate?” Jack suggested. “On our practice ice.”

“That would be really great,” Bitty said. “Ready to go back? By the way, you never said what your charity is.”

“You Can Play,” Jack said. “I’m thinking of coming out next year.”

#omg check please #omgcheckplease #pre-zimbits #my fic #prompt fill

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beautifulterriblequeen · 4 years

Text

A little epiphany about the moon arcanum

(submitted by @lily-lilou)

Hello ! I just realised something about the moon arcanum and I wonder what you would think about it:

Remember the other day, when you asked “how do you kill death?” and I answered “death is an emptiness of life, darkness is an emptiness of light”?

And remember in S1ep1 when Rayla said “moon reflect sun, as death reflect life.”, Implied: sun is life, moon is death?

Well, something bothered me with this last point. Because, if the moon was only death-related, Moonshadow elves would just be “empty” since they are all death and shadow/darkness. No light, no life. It doesn’t make sense. (I mean, we’ve seen in the novel that, indeed, some of them are really dark, as dark as a dark mage like Viren, it seems, but not all of them.)

While looking at Callum’s spellsbook, I saw that the moon arcanum is indeed death-related. But it’s also dual.

And suddenly, I had my little epiphany:

The moon has no light in herself, what she reflects is the light of the sun. And the light of the sun is “life”. So indeed, without it, the moon is “empty”.

But that’s my point, she does reflect it, and so: when the moon shines in the night, does she bring life? no. Does she bring death? neither. What does the moon do, then?

She reflects light when shadows and darkness are surrounding you, she makes them receded, she allows you to see in the dark.

Seeing light in darkness, isn’t this the definition of “hope” itself?

So now, my little theory about the duality of the moon being “death-hope”, it’s really neat (’>_>), but what about the show, what could prove my idea?

Well: the world is about to be engulfed in an all-out war, darkness and death are on almost every hearts, on the verge to destroy everything. And the moon, with her Moonshadow assassins, reflects “death”. But if my theory is right, shouldn’t she also reflect “life”, shouldn’t she bring “hope”?

And here goes Rayla, bright little light in the dark, sparing her enemies for the greater good, ready to sacrifice her life for a chance for peace. She’s the reason her little team’s adventure was possible to begin with, after all.

I mean, seriously, if the moon is dual, if one aspect of it is “death” and the other is “hope”, wouldn’t this explain “different” Moonshadow elves like Rayla, Lain and Ethari?

Just like a lot of sunfire elves are more connected to the destructive aspect of their arcanum and have a “heat mode”, and a few other are connected the more comforting and healing aspect of it with “light mode”. Why wouldn’t Moonshadow elves be like that too? With a lot of them related to the destructive aspect of the Moon (death), and a few others more connected to that other facet of it: hope.

As for Lain and Ethari, why do I think they’re more “hope-related” than death?

We haven’t seen a lot of them yet (and I’m waiting for S4 to see more of Ethari). However, the few elements we have is already not bad:

Lain literally saw “hope” in the egg’s survival. As for Ethari, even if he wronged Rayla in his grief, he did broke the spell and help her. Without him, they would have never made it in time to the Storm Spire, Rayla wouldn’t have been here to stop Viren, who would have probably killed Zubeia.

So sorry, it’s a little longer than I thought, but I hope you’ll be interested. (if not, sorry for waisting your time - and sorry if my english isn’t… arf, sorry if it’s torture, I have no one to check on it)

good night :)

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

Hey, thank you for this! I love seeing other people’s ideas! I’ve spent plenty of time pondering Moonshadow culture and philosophy because its duality is so fascinating. But the way you’ve put it gives it a beautiful new spin: hope in the dark. And I do agree with you, because I can think of several times when Moonshadow elves acted as that hope when things got dark--and not just Lain and Ethari, either.

You said that the moon acts like a kind of mirror, reflecting the light (and life) of the sun even in the darkest places. Like she’s encouraging everyone to hold on, because the day is coming back again. In such darkness, even the smallest bits of light make a big difference. And I think that’s exactly what we get from the Moonshadow elves.

Tiadrin and Lain left their daughter behind because duty was so important to them. That’s noble, but also sad. Yet Tiadrin valued life so highly that she tricked Viren into sparing the egg, just on the odd chance that someone could rescue it later somehow. I bet she was betting on Runaan right then. Saving the egg was her light in the dark, and so was hope that her good friend might rescue it when she couldn’t. And he did try once he saw it, but neither of them could’ve predicted that Rayla would find it before they did.

Ethari did ghost his daughter while he was suffocating in his own grief. He couldn’t stand up to the whole village in that moment. That was a very dark time, for him and for who he might’ve turned into. But then Rayla came home, innocent of the crime spoken against her, and Ethari knew he’d been wrong. He broke through his own darkness and became the hope that she needed.

Lujanne straight-up told Callum that humans can’t do magic, while sitting in the seat of her own power. That was all she knew, even as an experienced mage, and though she was kind, she definitely had her people’s misinformation and prejudices against humans and dark magic. And yet, when Claudia and Soren came, and Rayla asked for her help to escape safely back toward Xadia, Lujanne used that special exclusive magic, and her own personal Moon Phoenix to help test the intentions of Claudia and Soren, and it helped them stay safe.

Even Runaan has some very bright spots in his dark story. He saved Rayla’s life once he realized he’d endangered it. That cost him dearly, but he paid it willingly. And despite all of his broody loner tendencies, he lets his extended family drag him out on his own birthday. He does special things for Rayla on her birthday. He definitely does something special for Ethari on his, too. He’s a stabby dark angel of death, and probably the darkest Moonshadow elf we’ll ever meet, But he knows what love is, and it makes him break the rules, just like Ethari did. He let Rayla live when the conventions of his profession demanded otherwise. We never got to see what kind of trouble that might’ve gotten him into. But I bet it wouldn’t have been a hit back home.

And don’t get me started on Rayla. She’s very grumpy and rule-oriented much of the time, but her soft heart can’t resist doing what’s right if it clashes with what’s expected. She learned that from all her parents, and she can’t help being their daughter at every turn, acting as she’s seen them all act, following the rules right up until her heart tells her otherwise.

See the pattern? All of these elves live in a society that’s strict and ordered with very clear rules. But they’re still people, still individuals with hearts and minds. And they keep finding little ways to be soft despite their hard world. They are the night, and the night is very black and white. But they all live for the light of the moon, and for its hope, its love, and its promise.

Moonshadow elves have a rough job. They guard the dark and the dead and all things scary and creepy. They are what’s in the dark. That fits well with why they’re not supposed to be afraid: they’re supposed to be the scary ones.

In a way, I see Moonshadow elves as the recycling of Xadia. Part of a bigger cycle, like day and night, part of an endless cycle that will never stop.

They deal with death and spirits. Usually people don’t like to think about those things. They’re unnerving. Just like we humans don’t really like to think about our garbage bins. But when you recycle, you take old gross dead things and you turn them into something new and useful again.

When we trim shrubbery, it’s so that the plant can grow more healthy. When we separate our glass and metal and cardboard, it’s so we don’t pollute the planet and kill life unnecessarily. When something dies in the forest, the itty bitty creatures come out and take care of it, reusing all those nutrients, passing them on and turning them back into life and health. Even mushrooms and molds are recycling. You may not like their job. It may seem icky to you. But imagine a world where everything that died or was discarded just. Sat there. Stinking forever. Would that be better? No, it wouldn’t, eew.

The recycling that happens in the natural processes of the world is mostly invisible to us. It happens on a very small scale, or underground, or in the dark. But it happens. It’s happening right now, all around us. Invisible, if you will. And from that slightly distasteful, invisible, endless process, we will get fresh leaves on our trees, new flowers, new generations of helpful insects and animals, and a lot fewer gross smells on the breeze. You’re welcome!

The moon is the hope in the dark. But that hope is borne out by the individual choices of the elves we know and love. When they choose to be soft, to be heroic, to be selfless or sacrificing, they’re acknowledging that they are part of a bigger whole, an entire ecosystem of elves and dragons and even humans, and they act for a cause bigger than themselves. No one has a better sense of their place in the bigger scheme of things than Moonshadows, I think.

I’m eager to see what Rayla’s arc will be like from here, because it’s looking more and more likely that she’ll literally arc away from her Moonshadow upbringing instead of cycling back to it. She is the hope in the dark of her people. Will she save them, will she step away from them, will anyone come with her? Will it go smoothly does ghosting count as smooth, or will there be trouble?

All good thoughts, @lily-lilou, all good thoughts. Thank you for sharing your ideas!

#asks #moonshadow elves #moonshadow philosophy #tdp analysis #tdp #rayla #ethari #runaan #lain #tiadrin #lujanne #callum #submission

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dontasktheradiodemon · 3 years

Text

Sands #2 (1/2/2021)

Click here if you’re like “What the heck is this about?”

Valera @autokrates meets Alastor @usedhearts. They hunt fish. I don’t mean “they go fishing,” I mean “they hunt fish.”

At one point Valera uses their Mom Voice on Alastor. It’s super effective.

Valera

Having guests was lovely, but the best part of being back home? The ocean, with all the underwater caverns, the kelp forests, the reefs and coves and crowds of colorful fish to lose yourself in. Valera had well and truly lost track of time goofing off in the water, doing acrobatics and harassing the local wildlife until she was dizzy from it all. But she had obligations, and as wonderful as time to herself was, she wanted to see her company before it got too late.

She turned to the shallows once more, picking up speed and skimming along just under the surface until the last! Possible! Moment! And then she breached, tucking into a somersault and then twisting into one, two, three backflips before landing on the shore, a self satisfied little grin plastered across her face. Still got it. Hmhmhm~

Alastor (@usedhearts)

When Valera lands, there's applause, both real and canned, and even a few whistles.

"What a performance! Simply stunning! How graceful, how dexterous! How powerful!" Alastor called from his spot on his beach blanket. With a red and grey stripped swimsuit, and a pair of small sunglasses replacing his monocle, he looked decidedly different from his usual outfit. But certainly not different enough that one wouldn't recognize the Radio Demon himself.

"I wasn't expecting a show beyond the sultry song of the sea herself, but then there you were, springing for from the water like Aphrodite herself!" He stood and walked over towards them, hands, still gloved, clasped behind his back-- and was he still in his shoes and socks? Yes! Clearly someone didn't plan on going for an actual dip.

"Mademoiselle Valera, isn't it? Pleasure to finally, formally meet you! Alastor, the Radio Demon!" He winked over his sunglasses and moved nearer to give her a playful elbow.

"But you knew that already, didn't you!"

Valera

She really should have expected an audience, with this many people on one island. But it's still a surprise to turn and see the ~feared radio demon himself~ dressed like something out of an old timey picture... Oh gods he was still wearing socks and shoes. Somehow she'd expected as much... But best not to get distracted by that, he was coming in fast and already talking and right right yes, this was a new one, must by Kyxs' boss? Either that or the one Rhedd brought along, but... No, he seemed normal-ish, for an Alastor..

A demure little smile, and she nods. "I'd be hard pressed to mistake you for anyone else, my good man! I take it you've been enjoying your stay so far, judging by your attire?"

Alastor

"Yes! Certainly! Haven't seen an ocean this gorgeous since I was alive, had to get my fill!" He turned toward said ocean, his hand moving in a large arch, taking in the whole of it. "And of course, I couldn't wear my usual out here! The beach is no place for a suit, after all!"

He turned back to her, and gave himself a comical slap on the forehead, the audience laughing as he did. "Oh dear, how rude of me, I haven't made it clear _which_ Radio Demon I am! I'm the one that came with Kyxs! He's my apprentice!"

There was a chorus of 'ooooo's like someone messed up in a sitcom. "OH! And I even forgot to thank you for that gift: the tiny radio! Bee's a darling, she's right here, actually!"

He pulled the teeny radio out of the pocket on his swimsuit chest, cradling her gently in his hand to show Valera.

"Thank you dearly for her, she's a charmer to be sure! No one can look away when she comes out!"

Valera

She covers her mouth with a hand, stifling her amused snort as best she can as he waves around. This Alastor was *very* animated, it almost reminded her of Pentious. "Ah! Yes, of course. I was wondering. I appreciate the speediness of your clarification, my dear, much appreciated!"

Oh, and there's the little darling herself, tiny little Bee! "I'm so glad you like her, she's the sweetest little thing to ever receive a radio wave. And so helpful! Her schematics have been a great help in understanding the transition from the larger compact radios like the Baby Grand, to the pocket radios like *this* little beauty. But that's a lot of technical nonsense, I wont bore you with my prattling."

Though, now that she sees Bee.. "No no, I have something MUCH better for you and yours, my good man!" Give her a moment to reach into her room through the ever convenient portal, there's something somewhere on her worktable... Ah, perfect. Alastor is presented with a tiny bow, fabric dyed to match his classic bow tie.

"So you can match!"

Alastor

His eyes turn to dials, just for a split second when she reveals the bowtie. And then he's gasping! The audience is gasping! Everyone is gasping!

He delicately takes the bow and affixes it to Bee-- somehow it sticks without any sort of adhesive, but that's magic for ya! Alastor holds Bee out, admiring her with her new bow. The audience coos in delight.

"Look! At that! How cute, how adorable! Simply stunning, beautiful, the most charming little radio to ever graces the nine circles! She'll be the talk of the town!!"

Valera

Oh no, oh that was so cute. Look at that itty bitty little radio all dressed up, she could just KICK herself for not making some tiny antlers to match. Next time. But even just a bow was precious, no need to overdo it.

"She looks even better than I imagined! Nobody will be able to resist your little lady now, even the coldest hearts would melt. Make sure nobody tries to steal her away, Alastor!"

Alastor

"Oh, they won't! I'll be sure of that! No one's going to touch this little darling!" He tucked her safely back into his pocket.

"Now, I've been wondering, the sea-- what kinds of seafood do you get from it?"

Valera

She tilts her head to one side, fins exaggerating the gesture.

"What kinds of seafood? Fish, with and without shells. Plants as well, if you're interested in kelp and seaweed. There's a sea serpent in the area too, but I wouldn't consider him food so much as a part of the scenery. If you're craving fresh fish, we've got plenty in the kitchens for you to play with!"

Alastor

"Oh, that sounds delightful! Fresh fish can be so hard to come by in Hell, and to get to experiment with new varieties, well! It's enough to make a chef's heart soaaaaaar!" He belted the note, the sound of birds chirping accompanying him.

"I'll have to make sure to take some when I go, just to have some extra fun with the hotel! But before then, seeing the variety would be scrumptious!"

Valera

"You should try snorkeling. Maybe spearfishing, if you want to try catching them yourself..." She looks him up and down. Perhaps not. "... Or we can package some in live traps for you!"

Alastor

"Live traps! How quaint! I'd love some, certainly, thank you!" He laughed, and as always, the audience joined in.

"I might be persuaded to wade a bit, but going fully underwater isn't my cup of tea. You understand." He tapped his chin. "Spearfishing, though, tell me more about that..."

Valera

Oh good, a subject she can drone about! She claps her hands, giving Alastor her toothiest grin.

"The most basic form of spearfishing is very straightforward. You get your fishing spear, you find a good shoreline, pier, or take a boat out to a school of fish.. And you heft your spear in to skewer your target! If you plan on throwing it, tie a line to the pole! You can put bait or just wait for an opportunity to present itself, people have different methods. There's also *speargun* fishing, where you take, essentially, a crossbow, and do the same thing! Speargun fishing is typically done fully underwater, but I'm sure it would still be serviceable from above. The bolt is pulled back in by the line, the fish is placed wherever you store them, rinse and repeat!"

Alastor

"Oh! That sounds wonderful! Now, I wonder where there would be an experienced spearfisher to show me the ropes!" He pretended to look around before jumping when he 'spotted' Valera.

"Well! You're right here, aren't you! How about we go rummage up some gear and let loose on some fish!"

Valera

"By all means my dear protege, just so long as that fish isn't me! I may be delicious according to select sources, but I'm afraid there's already other Alastors queued up for a go at me!" She sighs, pressing a dainty wrist to her forehead. "Yes, everything from breast to shank. You'll have to take a number, or settle for second best!"

Valera snorts, offers a deep bow, and gestures grandly towards the estate. Weaponry awaits!

Alastor

"Oh, how terrible! Looks like I'll have to wait my turn behind myself!" The audience gave a short boo before swapping to laughter, as Alastor turned towards the estate.

"Let's see the weapons! Can't wait to discover all the secrets of alien weaponry!"

Valera

And off they go, to the estate, and then the armory. The secrets of alien weaponry? Easy! It's magic!

Veci don't have a cultural inclination towards technology, but every member of the species radiates magic the way humans radiate body heat, and they channel it in everything they do. How could electricity compete with that? All things that Valera will happily explain to Alastor when she drops a speargun into his gloved hands.

"I don't know if your magic works the same way, Alastor, but it doesn't matter. I can always charge it for you, and even without magic the gun will function. The magic just lets the bolt go farther, and winds it in automatically."

Alastor

His grin becomes a little manic when the gun is dropped in his hands. He'd never been one for guns, but this!! This was something special! He adored the heft of it and held it up to look down the sights.

"Oh, no worries! Let's see..." His eyes turned to dials and the static picked up, a red glow radiating around his hands. It flowed into the gun and he settled back down.

"Well, look at that, I think it worked!" Alastor laughed, putting it up on his shoulder. "Shall we?"

Valera

A wise man would probably think better than to cheerily hand the big bad radio demon a magic powered speargun designed for maiming fish, especially when said wise man was himself a fish. But Valera never claimed to be wise. Or a man, but that was as debatable as any other gender floating around. No no, Valera grins just as wide as Alastor, her own gun loosely held in a practiced grip.

"We *shall!*" And off they go, to spear helpless fish off the pier.

Alastor

Alastor lets out a cackle filled with static as he followed them-- no audience that time, it was full manic Radio Demon glee!

And down to the pier they travel. He's so excited he's nearly vibrating.

"Now, don't pick on me if I'm a terrible shot-- haven't handled a gun in decades!"

Valera

"I wouldn't *dream* of it, my good deermon. In fact, I should warn you! You'll want to aim low, water refraction likes to make fish look further than they actually are. The first five shots are practice, in my book."

She twirls her gun with a flourish, curling her tail under herself to improvise a seat. How convenient, to be a fish with a tail longer than you are tall. How rich! And now the fun part. A little bait in the form of a chicken thigh tossed off the pier, and watch the fish gather.

"Have at it, Alastor."

Alastor

"Deermon! Ha! Lovely!" He laughed, the audience joining in this time.

Once the bait was in the water and the fish swarming, he took aim, humming a jaunty little diddy to himself as he pulled the trigger....and missed.

Well! Valera did say the first five didn't count! He wound it back and then gestured for her to take a shot.

Valera

She purrs, takes a look down at the water... And spears a fish through the head. She doesn't look very pleased when she reels it in though, huffing as she examines the entry point.

"Hrm. I was *aiming* for the eyes..." Ah well, time to take a bite! Delicious.

Alastor

"Oh! Well, look at you-- and here you had me thinking we'd be trading missed shots for a bit!" He laughed and then aimed again, focusing more intently this time.

Another shot!

......And another miss.

Valera

She glances over, eyes scrunched up in half moons as she tries to look apologetic around a mouthful of fish.

"Oh? Sorry darling, I've been doing this since I grew thumbs! Though if it makes you feel any better, it took me three days of trying before I ever caught my first fish with these tools."

Alastor

His eyes squint in turn, but he's still amused! So that's good.

"Ah, fair enough! Like me with cooking! Been doing that since I could hold a spoon!" He took aim again-- but then blinked, something registering at last and he lowered the gun to turn to her.

"_Grew_ thumbs, you say?"

Valera

Oop, hang on, let her swallow this mouthful. Alright, the fish remnants are dropped on the pier next to them, that can be the next piece of bait when they feel like shooting again. She turns to face Alastor properly, jazz handing with gusto.

"Yeah! Veci like me hatch with our little graspers shaped more like *paws* than anything else. If you were so inclined, you'd still be able to feel the grippy little pads in my fingertips. Think... fish cats? I guess? We've got a hatchling right here in the estate, actually, if you're struggling to visualize what I'm on about."

Alastor

"Paws?" A brow arches as he thinks on that, and then he laughs.

"Oh, that's quite cute. Fish cats...." He snapped his fingers and shouted. "Catfish!" Before bursting into laughter.

"Ah, oh, I crack myself up!"

Valera

She flutters her eyelids, pressing dainty fingertips to her smirking lips.

"Actually, I'm a lionfish, my dear sir."

And then she just starts _cackling_.

Alastor

Oh boy! They're both laughing! And the audience is laughing! It's just a laugh factory around here!

It takes him a GOOD FEW MINUTES to collect his composure, and he wipes tears from his eyes as he does.

"My, my, you are a CARD, my good lady! Or perhaps even a full deck! No wonder you've charmed your way into the hearts of so many of Hell's citizens!"

Valera

Just a couple of clowns standing around with spearguns, laughing their heads off. What could be more normal than this?

Deep breath, she's good. "Thank you, my fine fellow! That's the kindest way I've been called *stacked* yet!" She honest to god slaps her thigh, barking out another laugh before she regains her composure.

"Sorry, sorry. Couldn't resist! I appreciate it, truly. You're a bit of a riot yourself, aren't you Alastor? I suppose I could expect no less from a fellow who knows how to talk a person in circles!"

Alastor

"Oh yes! Comes from working in Raaaadiooooo~" He belts that last word-- he was doing that a lot today! Maybe it was just from being so happy at _not_ being hunkered down for an extinction. Plus sun was good for the skin!

"I've trained a long time to work my way around words as well as a serpent sliding through the surf!" He threw her a wink before hoisting his gun again. He took aim and!!

This time he hit! He laughed excitedly-- with surprisingly little static-- as he pulled it in.

"Well, would you look at that! It's a body shot, but hell, I'll take it!"

Valera

Being out of Hell seems to have perked up a lot of people's moods, she shouldn't be surprised by the extra oomph. She is, but she shouldn't be. But then he turns to try another shot, and she gasps in delight as he hits his mark, clapping as he reels in his first catch.

"Oh! Amazing, only your third shot and you've made a catch! You're a natural, Alastor. What a shot!" Will he be needing a cooler for that fish? Some ice?

Alastor

Nope! Just like her, he takes it off the spear and takes a nice, big chomp out of it. What good was catching your own seafood if you didn't try some fresh out of the ocean?

He hummed and hawed as he chewed, tongue licking his teeth and picking at the spaced between. "How interesting a taste! Familiar, and yet, completely foreign!"

He laughed and then took another bite, letting the audience continue to chuckle for him.

Valera

FINALLY someone around here with STANDARDS. Valera's tail would be wagging, if she wasn't using it to lean on. Her fins will suffice, the little wiggle likely indiscernible from another other twitch to the eyes of an alien. But even so!

"Palatable, I hope! You're doing a grand job, you'll be wiping the floor with me soon enough. Were you a hunter in life, then?"

Alastor

He laughed again! Around his mouthful of fish! He swallowed without chewing much and shrugged.

"Oh, I dabbled here and there. Living in New Orleans, one learns those sorts of things. So much in bayou to make into dinner! Say, have you ever had gator?" His eyes sparkled-- literally, they got big and sparkly as he spoke.

"Ah, one of the things I miss most about living! So hard to get good gator down in Hell, unless it's been a fellow sinner!"

Valera

HAS she had gator? Hrm...

"I might have, but not in many, many years! I'd be happy to bring you some, if you'd be kind enough to share the meal you make out of it! Same with any other seafood you crave. Or crawfish, I never know if they should count as *sea*food..."

Alastor

"Oh, I certainly think so! A proper seafood spread is never finished without a heaping, steaming pile of crawfish!" He laughed. "I'd be more than happy to share some of anything I make! What good is New Orleans cooking if you don't share it?"

He hummed, a low whine turning more high pitched, as he aimed again-- and fired. Oops that one's another miss.

"Dang! Thought I had it!"

Valera

She watches him fire again, eyes narrowing as the bolt misses. Would it be overstepping if she...? Ah, what's it matter. She reaches an arm out, mindful of his personal space as she taps the speargun a hair lower.

"You're doing beautifully, don't worry. You've got this next one in the bag, Alastor."

Alastor

He doesn't say anything when she tilts the gun lower, and even sends a beaming smile her way. And then he aims again, and fires again.....

And another strike! Another body shot, but hey! He was still learning, after all. He reeled it in and removed the spear.

"This one I think, will need some ice!"

Valera

A small matter to drop a cooler and some ice in, presented with a grand flourish to her most esteemed guest. And THEN a round of applause on top of it. He IS doing remarkably well after all, he deserves some feedback for his efforts.

"Fantastic display, Alastor. Five shots, two kills, and all within your first half hour of practice! I couldn't be prouder of my star pupil!"

Alastor

"How long until this thing needs to be recharged, so to speak?" He looked at the gun, inspecting it all over.

"And thank you! I've always picked up things rather quickly-- well, most of the time!"

Valera

"Eh, with shallow waters like these? Ten shots, I think the instructions said? Though I'm not sure how your magic compares, so it could be eight, or twelve." She shrugs. "I barely ever need to charge mine, but to say I radiate magic might be describing it in the way a forest fire might be called a bit toasty, so.. Your mileage may vary."

Alastor

He snorted, and aimed once more-- spearing another fish. He was getting pretty good at this.

"Radiate is about right, I could feel your aura from a mile away! It's so....everywhere here, that it _actually_ took me a while to notice it. Like if you're in the water and don't notice the temperature."

Valera

She grins! Offers him a very loud purr in place of a shoulder bump.

"Oh! You noticed? Nobody had said anything, I wasn't sure if you were sensitive to it or not. Okkylk itself sings with magic! Or, at least the parts where we Veci like to live do. If you go into the mountains, it thins out considerably. The Nir and Artak'in aren't nearly so.... Vibrant, I suppose. And the Pira actually *absorb* magic." Yes, he's totally going to know what all of those things she's saying mean. Absolutely.

..... Cough. "Those are the other species that live on Okkylk."

Alastor

He smiles through it. Be strong, Alastor, be strong for Mother! He laughs and gives her a nod.

"Oh yes, I figured as much! Wouldn't want to meet the ones you said absorb magic-- I run on the stuff, pretty much!" He shrugged and aaaaaimed again. And fired! And missed. Well, you win some, you lose some. He reeled it back in.

"I'm quite magical myself, so I did notice! I suspect my other selves also did, but with the lot of us, who knows! Kyxs may well have noticed too, but he hasn't been practicing his aura sensing much." The audience 'ooooo's and he tsks.

Valera

Oh, hm! Closer, that one was unfair. She'd probably have missed too. Guess she can fire a shot, but she'll be fair and aim for trickier targets... Ough, body shot on that eel. Good enough, into the cooler it goes.

"Tsk tsk! Alastor, you'd better tell that boy to get back to his studies! Can't have him getting himself in trouble with half baked magic, that's worse than no magic at all!"

Alastor

"Yes, I know! I've been giving him a break for the holidays-- stressful time that it is-- but after the extermination, he'll be right back in it!" He laughed and shot again. Another fish and that one was right into the eye! Excellent!

He beamed at Valera as he tossed it into the container.

Valera

She actually cheers when he reels in his new catch, bouncing in place right there on the dock as she claps enthusiastically. He did it! What a shot! What a PERFORMANCE! A perfect display!

"Bravo, Alastor! That was BEAUTIFULLY done! You've got to be pulling my leg, you've done this before, haven't you darling? Either way, that was perfect! I'm in awe, my dear!"

Alastor

He laughs!! Again!! And puts a hand to his chest. "I swear on my dear Mother, that I haven't! Told you, I get things quick!"

He hums and then a song starts playing. _If I can learn to do it, you can learn to do it!_ The song cuts off as quick as it starts, and he chuckles, firing off another shot. And another strike! Not a clean one like before, but still good!

Valera

Not perfect, but more than good enough to bring in dinner. And look, she even gets a snippet from... "Anastasia! A wonderful little film that was, the songs were so lovely. And my goodness, the animation.."

Hmmhmm... She's getting distracted, don't mind the humming.

Alastor

He blinks at that! Well!! "I wasn't expecting you to know songs from Earth!"

He lifts the gun and fires again, and another strike. As he reels it, he figures it's about time to charge it back up, and there his eyes go, all radio dials again and the static picks back up-- and then he's back to normal.

"I find most musicals entertaining! Far more than non-musicals, for certain! And yes, the animation has a charm to it!"

Valera

He wouldn't know! Of course he wouldn't know. She twirls in place, arms opening as she just short of sings.

"Oh, I love Earth musicals! All the works of Gilbert and Sullivan, Mary Poppins, Hello Dolly, Chicago, even a number of animated films! I've seen a spread, and I've found some charm in each of them!"

Alastor

He perks up visibly at that. "Oh! A fish swimming in my own see! How grand!!"

Another song starts up. _Come on, babe. Why don't we paint the town? DADADA BUM BUM And all that jaaaazz!_

He almost forgot he had a gun in his arms, but remember it quickly enough, turning to take aim and fire another shot. Shoot, another miss.

Valera

Good try, Alastor! She leans in, lining her sights up to shoot the fish he'd been going for as it swam away. Not a good shot, by any means, but vengeance is vengeance, can't have that fish telling anyone else that it escaped the radio demon. To the cooler with his catch!

She'll dare go for a hip bump, just enough of a brush that it might have been accidental. Is she humming When You're Good To Mama? She might be, but good luck getting her to admit it.

Alastor

The song cuts off and the audience cheers, and Alastor claps his hand against his gun. "That little thing won't slip out of your grasp!"

When he picks up what she's humming, his frequency shifts and that song starts playing in place of 'All That Jazz'.

"You know! This is practically the theme song of a good friend of mine, whom you've invited here!"

Valera

Dinner and a show, what could be better? She snorts, stepping back into her own personal space bubble.

"I'm familiar! She's a lovely dame, big fan of the work ethic she keeps."

Alastor

"It's true, she never stops that Madame! Always working some angle, networking some connection-- I'd call her ambitious but that'd do her a disservice. She knows what she wants and she grabs it with both hands and four tentacles!" Another bout of canned laughter.

"I've been a loyal patron since she approached me way back when-- never showed her fear, which I applaud!" And there's some canned applause. Alastor lifted the gun again annnnnnd.....boom! Another fish onto the pile. How many did they have, four? Hm, not enough for all the carnivores they had here. He should shoot some more.

Valera

He SHOULD shoot some more. So should Valera, instead of jawing away and flailing around like she is. Silly fish. Back to hunting, then.

"Indeed." Oh, another eel? She aims, then hesitates a moment while she double checks... alright. Not one of her guests, it's safe to shoot. She doubted either Pentious was dumb enough to swim around where there were people spearing fish, but at the same time.. They weren't the most observant, despite the eyes.

"Try not to shoot Sir Pentious, my fine fellow. I don't think he's over here, but I'm sure he's swimming around somewhere."

Alastor

The Audience boos a bit at that but Alastor only laughs. "As your guest, I'll respect your request! Considering that I couldn't be sure which Pentious I was shooting at anyway, it's no skin off my teeth!"

He displayed said teeth in a wide mouthed grin. "Wouldn't want to tag your beau instead of dear little Pentell instead!"

Valera

She misses her next shot, jolting in place as Alastor just TELLS HER SIR PENTIOUS' REAL NAME. The poor speargun doesn't even get a chance to reel in before she drops it, hands flying to her hips as she rounds on her guest. "ALASTOR."

Ooooh Alastoooor she's giving you a look like she's about to get out a wooden spoooooon.

Alastor

That _tone_ has him JUMPING nearly out of his skin. His smile doesn't falter-- eighty years of keeping it up the only thing to save him there-- but his eyes do widen, almost comically. The feeling crawling down his spine is a familiar one, someone who grew up with a strict but loving mother always would get when one did something to earn her ire.

He turned towards Valera, trying to keep his cool as he asked, as nonchalantly as possible: "Yes? What is it?"

Valera

Valera steps in, using the entire two inches of height she has on him for all they're worth. Not to look down at him, just to loom as she lowers her voice to that firm, no nonsense tone.

"Alastor, you know better than that. Why would you go telling business that isn't yours to tell?" Oh, maybe she's being too mean.. Alright, soften that tone up. She's not his *boss* here, she's just the hostess. "I'm not mad, just disappointed. I don't want to make Sir Pentious feel like I've invaded his privacy, but I'm going to have to talk to him about this later."

Alastor

Oh and does she loom. And when she whips out the 'I'm not Mad, I'm Disappointed' line, it's like she just took the speargun and shot him right through his chest. It's only his consummate professionalism and skills as a performer that keep his face static, keep him from giving a hint of ground.

"Ah, yes, my apologies! I often forget myself when speaking about him. Don't mind me and my old mind, sometimes things just fall out out of there! Like blood leaking from sackcloth!" He laughed, but there was noticably more static and reverb to his words. Alastor turned back to the sea, firing off his gun again to spear another fish, as he spoke again.

"Don't worry about Sir Pentious-- or the one that I'm familiar with at least. He's resilient! He bounces back eventually! No one can put him down for good, though many have tried!" Every compliment seems more insult coming from him, where Pentious is concerned.

Valera

Nice try, Alastor. If you were the first she'd met, she'd probably have believed him. But no such luck this time around. She watches him turn away and spear another fish, quietly taking up her speargun to wind it in properly. But then she sets it aside, planting a firm hand on the poor man's shoulder.

"It's not me you need to apologize to, Alastor. Though I do appreciate it, that's very sweet of you." Better to temper her scolding with kindness, it's the only way she's gotten *some* people to listen. "We can come out again later, we should take these back and clean them before any pesky birds show up. I've got scalers in the kitchen. You did a wonderful job catching these!" A pat, and she pulls her hand away. She was already playing a dangerous game by initiating any physical contact at all, so best to keep it brief.

Alastor

There's certainly a shiver when she touches him, but he swallows it down. Don't be weak, don't show it. The show must go on. After reeling his latest catch, he puts it on the ice and props the gun on his shoulder.

"Yes, I think we've got a hefty enough supply! And the cleaning is the best part, after all, I'd be happy to lend a hand!" He wiggled one set of fingers.

"Or two!" Suddenly, his other hand is waving-- without the gun moving from its place on his shoulder-- and then he's back to holding it and all is normal. Including him dodging the bit about apologizing to anyone else.

Valera

Ah, back to business as usual, that's MUCH less tense. Valera snorts at his theatrics, picking up her speargun and laying it over the fish before hefting the cooler up with her tail. Much better than making anyone carry the bulky thing in their arms!

"Much appreciated, my dear. And don't worry, I haven't forgotten about my promise! You'll get your fresh fish before you saunter back to Hell. Now lets get these things looking presentable, hm?"

Alastor

"Yes, absolutely! We'll have to see who's the better cleaner, eh?" He laughed and gave her a quick, playful jab with his elbow. Got to show who's the one who gets to touch around here!

Valera

"What, you think you can descale a fish better than another fish can? That's awfully bold of you, I hope you've got the talent to back that claim up, Alastor!" She wont elbow him back, considering she's got spines full of neurotoxins around there, but she will give him the gentlest shoulder bump, barely enough to dent his padding. She's competitive, but not to the point of actually wanting to upset the man.

Alastor

"I think I'll at least put up a fight!" He laughed. "As long as I've been around fish and fish adjacent creatures, I've gotten very good at relieving them of scale and guts!"

Valera

"I can't tell if I should be impressed or intimidated. I'll decide when I see it in action!" She'll stop milking the 'because she's a fish joke', but come on. It's perfect for this.

And off they go, catch and all.

#extermination party palace #autokrates #usedhearts #chat log

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