#He’d say this just 100% dead earnest | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ddarker-dreams · 4 years ago

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I was missing sr!reader and was wondering what her favorite drinks are, if she drinks. If she's from the US i'm wondering how her drinking habits are and if she's more choosy with her wine since she is in Italy now.

(I SAW THIS AND IT REMINDED ME TO RESPOND TO ANOTHER SR ASK— thank you for popping up anon <33 i’ve been missing sr reader and her shenanigans with the gang too so this was perfect timing)

At first, SR Reader would be very ?? HUH over the casual drinking culture in Italy. It wasn’t that big of an issue when it was just her, Bruno, and Fugo. However, when Abbacchio showed up, man was breaking out the entire bottle while she was still eating her breakfast. Was very much at a loss over the entire thing. She’d seen Bruno nursing a small glass of wine here and there, but after witnessing Abbacchio, was ready to sign him up for an alcohol anonymous meeting.

As for the drinks she’d like... it all depends at what point of the timeline it is. Towards the start, SR Reader is dead broke and has no extra funds for fancy drinks 😭 however, when she’s able to afford it (aka once Giorno expunges her debts), she’d probably favor light fruity drinks. Her and Narancia love the little umbrellas you can get with those special drinks. Fugo has to confiscate them because she keeps trying to bring them home. It’d be smth like,

“But it’s so cute!”

“It serves no practical purpose. Hand it over.”

anon 2 asked: SR Ask: On one of the tags you said that everyone comforts reader in their own way, and it made me curious... how would the gang comfort reader? I could see some of them having trouble with having a heart to heart conversation either due to how closed off their personalities are, or how their carefree attitude might make their words not land that well. Also, you wouldn't mind if I make more SR asks in the future? Thanks in advance!

(please feel free, i always love SR asks!! i’m sorry for how late of a response this is htjegkrmw)

Bruno is an obvious go to candidate for all things. He’s earnest and listens well, just overall a nice and soothing presence. You can tell him anything and never feel judged. If it’s something he can help with, expect full well that he will, no matter how difficult it may be. That’s just Bruno’s nature, he wants to help those he cares about! If it’s something that can’t be “fixed” he’ll let you know in a very serious tone that you’re never alone, that it’s okay to rely on him, stuff like that. You’ll always leave conversations with Bruno feeling better. <33

Fugo is a bit of a hit or miss. He cares, he really does, but being in touch with emotions is not his thing. You’ll need to extend a little grace to him because he’s trying, and you’re basically one of the only people he’d try so hard for (he’s head over heels okay). He doesn’t coddle you — which might not be initially well-received depending on what the problem is — though you can appreciate it once you’re in a better state of mind. Fugo will probably make you laugh on accident with an awkward comment lmao. He also gives somewhat stiff hugs, but for some reason it’s super endearing. Pats your back like twice in this super deliberate way and it makes you giggle.

NARANCIA... you two vibe together okay. You’re his vibe girlfriend. He’s unexpectedly perceptive to any shifts in your mood, though he doesn’t have a lot of tact about it. If it’s a person bothering you, he WILL offer to beat them up, and not even in a joking way. You’d have to physically stop him. He’s really good at validating your feelings though. If you recount an annoying experience, he’ll be there nodding his head going YEAH that sounds so stupid what a pain. Can’t believe you had to deal with that. He’s so sweet UGH

Abbacchio... hm, well. He’s definitely more of the listening type. He might have a hard time reaching out — he’ll 100% notice something is wrong but might not say anything right away — but it’s a different story if you go directly to him. You can tell he’s experienced with a lot of things, so it’s comforting in a way, when he’s sitting there listening intently. Similar to Fugo, he won’t coddle you, but that’s just because he knows you’re mature enough to handle the truth. The respect he holds for you is not to be taken lightly. He won’t overwhelm you with advice unless you ask for some.

Mista is the person to go to if you want to be cheered up. Seriously, he’s fun to hang out with, you treasure every second. His way of cheering you up is taking your mind off of whatever is troubling you and goofing off together. It helps that Pistols have a natural ability to make you laugh with their antics. He’s grateful for once over his gremlin-like Stand if it means he gets to see your super cute smile again <333 if it’s something more serious, you’re still in good hands. He perfectly mixes in a tasteful amount of lighthearted humor and serious advice depending. (As a bonus, Pistols try cheering you up by bringing you snacks... SO CUTE... 😭)

Giorno is another person with a very calm presence. You can be relaying some heavy stuff onto him, and he’s unfazed, still engaging and following along patiently. He’s the type to listen without interruption, aside from a few questions to clarify things, but lets you get it off your chest for the most part first. Giorno will then help you work through why you feel that way, what could be done about it, stuff like that. It might seem almost borderline clinical, but he still cares very much!! It’s because he cares that he wants to get to the root of the problem so it never comes back. You can rest well knowing Giorno will do literally everything within his power to help.

Trish will almost be... maybe not excited, but definitely very eager to help. You’ve been there for her in the past, now she gets to return the favor! She’d be the type to suggest easygoing activities to take your mind off things. Shopping trips, a spa at home day, watching your favorite movies/shows, etc. Trish is kind of like Narancia where she’ll actively empathize with a lot of your frustrations. You should know that if any person was bothering you, Trish is ready to hold a live improv roasting session. You’ll both be verbally destroying that person’s ego from afar.

#giorno x reader #mista x reader #narancia x reader #fugo x reader #bruno x reader #trish x reader #tw: alcohol #jjba x reader #scarlet ribbons #scarlet ribbons lore #answered #my stuff #Anonymous

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francoiserenaldt · 4 years ago

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the last night

or the disgraced prince of morella receives a visitor.

warnings: a little gore toward the end, some incel logic

word count: 1.3k

note: this was a secret santa present but then I remembered @bladesappreciationweek was happening and I couldn’t not share this. enjoy.

I hate you.

It’s all over her face; her expression appears tight and furrowed under what little moonlight slips into the castle dungeons through cracks of crumbling walls. Her knees are taut against her chest, her breathing shallow, as she rakes her eyes over every nook and cranny of the cramped holding cell, committing every detail to memory.

Anything was better than looking at his face, he figures.

And yet, he can’t make sense of why she won’t just open her mouth and say it; after all, there’s not a soul within 100 miles of Morella that could argue that he doesn’t hate her too.

And really, who's fault is it that he's in this predicament anyway? Sure, no one told him to stab the arrogant bastard he loathed to call his brother in a room full of witnesses or to kidnap a priestess and transport her into the Shadow Realm, but no one told her and her lackeys to make it so easy for him, either. She’d done it to herself.

No one told him to put everything he had on the line at the first opportunity that showed itself just to fail in the end, but no one told her to revel in destroying everything he’s worked for in the name of being a hero. She had no right to hate him when everything about this night was her fault.

And despite everything she’s said and done to him, she sits outside of his holding cell in the King's Palace under the cloak of night, taunting him with her silence and scorn.

What in the hells is she waiting for?

He scoffs at the thought. The only thing she’s doing outside of his cell is wasting his time.

"Come to see me one last time?" He croons to her. The ache in his previously dormant throat is only quelled slightly by the deepened furrow in her brow.

"I'll be at the beheading tomorrow. That will be the last time." She retorts as the back of her head brushes against the rotted ivy along the walls.

"You want it to be the last time." The sentence borders on accusatory and she scoffs, far too loudly for the hour.

She rolls her eyes. "Of course I want it to be the last time. You’re not someone I look forward to seeing."

"Then why are you here?" Aerin hisses. “To watch me wither away?”

"Something like that." Her furious expression falls into a lackadaisical smirk as she turns her head to peer at his crippled and disheveled form in the darkest corner of the cell. The whispers of corruption linger on his skin like burn scars and he knows that she wants nothing more than to dig into them. "You're looking even worse than I thought."

"You enjoy it, don’t you?” He snaps, glaring. “Seeing me like this."

Another scoff. "I don't enjoy anything about you, Aerin. Not anymore."

"Not anymore? You mean to tell me…"

She curses under her breath and he grins for the first time since he exited the Shadow Realm. If he’s interpreting this correctly, then that means that she…

No, she couldn’t be that foolish. There’s no way.

Her expression is unreadable now, her gaze fixed on a medium-sized rock that lays at her feet. She punts it into the northernmost corner, grunting underneath her breath.

All this time he had thought she came to gloat about her outrageous victory when she really come to give him an earnest love confession. It was no wonder why she couldn’t look him in the eye; he too would be embarrassed beyond belief. Still, the thought of the great mage who conquered the Shadow Court paying him a visit to mourn her love for him—the absurdity can’t be lost on her, he refuses to believe it—rips a deep chuckle from his core.

"Oh, gods. You liked me. You thought that I was interested in you." He tilts his head back and releases a full-bellied cackle, an unusually bright sound considering his predicament. "All that time planning for my rise to power and I was beaten by a vigilante with a crush." Aerin's laughter subsides at last as he gazes upon the warrior with lidded eyes, shaking his head softly. "I never stood a chance, did I?"

"I am not a vigilante."

"Of course not, with your shiny new medal and all. In case it wasn't clear by now, you're an idiot."

"I don't even want to think about what that makes you, Aerin." She snaps, rising to her feet and dusting herself off. Gods forbid that the hero of the kingdom sustains so much as a speck of dirt on her outfit. “Especially considering that you’ll be a dead man this time tomorrow.”

"Leaving so soon?” He purrs. After the hell he’d endured, he was going to have fun with this. “I thought you wanted to see me."

She growls before shaking her head. "I've seen more than enough of you for a lifetime."

"I don't think you've seen nearly enough," Aerin smirks.

She, against all law of rational thought, turns back toward him. Gods, she really is a fool. "Really?"

"Really." He crawls toward the cell doors, catching her eye as he comes closer and closer to the light.

"What will you show me?"

"I'll show you anything you want, everything you want"

"I'm guessing this means that I need to break you out of here, don’t I?”

"No, no. All you have to do is come in with me."

"No can do, Prince Aerin.” His eyes narrow at the derision in her voice before he can stop them. “I have a life to return to and I get the feeling that you don't plan on letting me go."

Aerin leans forward, his dirt-covered face just inches from hers. "Does this mean that you'll take me with you?"

She grins. "Not a chance."

And then she's gone. Whether she's off to solve the next adventure and win some medal for inevitably saving the world or to sneak back into someone else's bed—he tries not to linger on the idea too long—he'll never figure out. His last night alive and she's left him alone with nothing but the cool, unattainable moonlight for company.

The chill is too bitter for sleep tonight, so he lets his mind wander. He was never one to linger on his thoughts—thoughts were quickly turned to letters on parchment until they were safe to speak, a rarity with castle staff and Baldur around every corner—but he'll make an exception, just for tonight.

He thinks of the night the Dreadlord had approached him, promising to make all of his dreams come true.

He thinks of the night she kissed him and how great of a distraction it was from the pain. Something strange tugs him, but he dismisses it. He no longer had the luxury of pondering.

He thinks of the night he obtained the shards, how beautiful and powerful the Blade had been in his hand, and the rush he’d feel when he fed the Dreadlord to the priestess.

He thinks of her confession: the earnest way she'd seemed to give her loyalty to him, even after everything he'd done, and the insurmountable rage he'd felt when she snatched it from him.

He thinks of his father, the man he used to admire more than anything, and how carelessly he'd thrown Aerin into the castle dungeons.

He thinks until he’s yanked out of the solace of quiet and into the execution room, where the castle’s most pristine cleaver slices into his trachea at the first crack of dawn for all of Morella to see.

Fin.

#aerin valleros #aerin x mc #blades of light and shadow #bladesaw #day 6: the realm of shadow

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thoseofgreatambition · 4 years ago

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sunbeams

a concept: george weasley is desperately in love with the girl he met 100 days ago. as such he brings her back to the cottage where she had shyly admitted that she’d imagined them spending their lives together. that morning he was going to try and make that happen.

a/n: this is a companion piece, to @ickle-ronniekins amazing imagine light of the moon. Erica is such a sweetheart she gave me permission to write this. please go read the original, it’s wonderful. this is also lightly based on my own parent’s engagement haha!

taglist: @geeksareunique @insearchofnewdreams @notstandingstill-imlyinginwait @lumos-barnes @thatfuckingliardavidtennant @slytherinqween @xinyourdreamsx @skiving-snackboxess @wildfire-whizbangs @dwarfwizard-from-panem @diary-of-an-onliner @answer-the-sirens @woakiees @black-widow-fangirl @theheirofnightandday @summerstardust @whysoseriouspadfoot @chocok22 @myhopesareanchoredinyou @siriusblackisme @illusivedaydreamer @zeeneee @writingwitchly @wolfpotter12 @obsessedwithrandomthings @carolinesbookworld @shadowsinger11 @pit-and-the-pen @summer-writes @peachesandpinks @ickle-ronniekins @gweaslvy @alpinewinchester

George stared at you, constantly surprised. A hundred days had gone by in the wink of time, and returning to the spot where you’d spent your one month anniversary had seemed so natural that he hadn’t thought about it for a moment.

The wildflowers brushed against the hem of your dress, leaving yellow smudges as you sang softly under your breath as you walked closer to the water. You seemed heartbreakingly beautiful. His hands trembled as he followed you, the same way a bird flew north in the summer. How the tides chased the moon. You were gravity. He couldn’t help but continue to fall into you over and over again.

Quietly you kicked off your shoes and sat down on the pond’s edge, feet in the cold water. You giggled as the minnows rushed around your toes. He watched you turn around, the smile that had absolutely thrown every plan he’d ever had into a wreck. The last time he’d been here, he’d seen his future on the horizon. Now it seemed as if he was standing right on the precipice, ready to step past where the land ended and the sky began.

“Georgie! Come sit with me.”

How could he say no? He’d never been able to say no to you before. You always asked for the littlest things. Like kisses. Like coffee. Like tea. Pouted when he tried to spoil you.

George was fairly certain he was going to choke on his own heart as he sat down on you at the edge, taking off his socks and shoes to follow your suit.

“Thank you for taking me here again.” Your head rested on his shoulder, a blush rose to your cheeks. “We talked about spending our lives here last time.”

The urge to smile was so strong that George’s mouth hurt. “We did, didn’t we princess?”

There was a soft hum from you as you flexed your toes under the water. The sun was so warm against your back you felt as if you could curl up and fall asleep. “And you don’t think I’m silly about it?” There was a single thread of self doubt in your voice that George desperately wished to stamp out that moment.

Sweet girl. Shy girl. Nervous girl.

“You’re not silly.”

He wondered if you would pout when he told you he’d bought the cottage. You’d exclaimed so much when he’d bought you a necklace a few weeks prior. It was too expensive. You didn’t need to be spoiled!

A sparrow darted across his vision.

“I’ve known you were my love when we first met, you know.” Could you hear the nerves in his voice? George wasn’t sure. He grinned as you curled into him. “And even though we’ve only been together for a bit, I just kept realizing more and more how much I adore you.”

Your hand covered your bright grin, and you giggled into it. “I love you too, Georgie. You’re my soulmate.”

Gently, George removed your hand from your face, he wanted to see your expressions for this moment. He wanted to study them. This was the only time it would happen, after all.

“I’ve been thinking about spending our lives together since our second date, you know. Couldn’t help it. You made me fall in love with you, somehow.” George’s eyes stung, was he about to cry? He hoped not. Though the idea of you kissing away his tears like you tended to was always nice. “The second I saw you, even. Knew I was supposed to be yours. I want that to start today. I want us spending our lives together to start today.”

Your lips brushed against his jaw, and he could feel you smiling against him. You knew didn’t you? He was certain you knew. Fred had said you would figure it out before you got anywhere close to the cottage. That he was too shaky and nervous to hide anything at all. “You’re so sweet Georgie.”

The nerves went away just a little bit, enough to look you in the eyes and see that you thought this was just lovely words. He’d learned enough about you to realize why. You were always so caught up in the moment, in every passing second you took in everything around you.

There was surprise on your face when he started giggling, as he wiped away a tear.

It seemed he’d begun to cry anyways, despite his intentions.

Your hands reached out for him, to cup his cheeks and wipe away any tears. To kiss everything better. More confusion as he pulled away further and shifted to one knee. A little distressed he’d say later, that you were moving father away from him.

It seemed you’d missed the cue of being on one knee.

“Lovey?” your voice was soft, “What’s wrong Lovey? Why are you crying?”

George reached into his pocket and pulled out a little ring, that glittered when the sun beams hit it. “Crying because I’m happy, Y/N. Because I’m happy and I’m nervous and I’m in love. I want to marry you, and I want our lives to start today in our new home.”

There were several dreadful moments where George’s logic failed him in your confused silence. Would you say no? Was it too soon?

And then your smile bloomed on your face, more beautiful than any of the flowers around you. “You wanna get married?”

George no longer was able to produce words. Mutely, he nodded.

“I want to get married to you too. I love you Georgie.”

Ah, why were you crying? Why were you crying and smiling?

George realized, as someone who stayed up too late and realized the sun had risen, that he had begun crying in earnest. You’d begun to do the same. Giggling through your tears.

His voice shook, whether from nerves or excitement, he would never no. “I’d like a yes or no, Y/N. Kind of one of those important things.” A half joke, his mind felt too numb to make anything better than that.

But you’d still laughed and reached out to grab his lapel, to bring him close and press as burning kiss to his lips.

If George dropped dead, he would have died happy.

“Yes.” you were giggling and speaking against him, trying to wipe away his and your own tears. “Yes! Yes silly, of course. Silly George, of course.”

For a few moments George lost himself, so blindingly happy he wouldn’t remember exactly how he pulled you into his lap until he looked up and saw you grinning down at him. “We’re going to be married.” You were kissing away his tears.

So happy he hurt, George slipped the ring on your finger. You were so warm from where the sun had kissed your skin.

Hours or minutes seemed to float by silently, the only sounds being those of giggles and kisses. It wasn’t until something seemed to strike you, as you looked up at the cottage only a little whiles away. “Georgie?”

“Hmm?”

“What did you mean by new home?”

He laughed against your neck.

This was probably when you would start pouting. He couldn’t wait.

#my writing #george x reader #george weasley imagine #george weasley x reader #george weasley x you #george weasley headcanon #george weasley #AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH #ickle-ronniekins

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readyplayerhobi · 5 years ago

Text

Flower | 12

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff

; Word Count: 3.4k

; Synopsis: You finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the Flower dating app. One of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. What happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

; A/N: This one is from our lovely Hobi’s POV! He decided he wanted to take charge for a moment so...I hope you enjoy! :D please comment and send asks so we can taaalk :D

; Flower Masterpost

“FOR GODS SAKE GERALT CAN YOU JUST BLO- fuck, shit, cock sucker...ah fuck it all!” You hissed in anger, clenching the Playstation 4 controller in your hands tighter and shaking it wildly as your character, Geralt, died. It turned out that Hoseok had Witcher 3 and after binge-watching all of the Netflix Witcher show, you’d begged him to bring it over so you could play it.

Today he’d finally brought it, the small case catching his eye as he was grabbing his backpack and he’d quickly stuffed it inside. He’d promised to bring it two times already and two times he’d forgotten. Not today though, today he’d been good and remembered it.

That had been four hours ago, and you’d been gripped by the game since. In fact, you’d barely even stopped to take a drink, eyes focused intently on the screen as you fought, magicked and cursed your way free of fights in the virtual world. Needless to say, you were very enthralled by the game which in turn meant you had gotten progressively louder as you’d died from stupid things.

Not that you were dying because of anything you’d been doing of course. No, it was just your character was doing silly things like not blocking or swinging when you told him to. That was it. Hoseok had been assured by you many times at the start when he’d got a little concerned about how into the game you were getting.

That had been at the start though, and you were now so into the game, so unaware of your surroundings, that it was almost like Hoseok wasn’t actually here in the room with you. Your eyes remained glued to the screen the whole time. Which meant that you didn’t see the way he’d been pouting a little, starved of your attention as he played around on his phone aimlessly in an effort to entertain himself.

Hoseok loved watching people play games, he really did, but he was bored today. He wanted your attention; a novel concept to him as he’d never dated anyone who was more into video games than he was. Being on the other side of someone who avidly loved gaming was unusual and though he didn’t hate it...he just a bit like a child.

There was only so much playing with Kasumi he could do. And sure, he could read the book he’d found in your bookcase a few days ago or even play on your Switch while you entertain yourself, but he didn’t want that. He wanted to do something with you. He wanted to talk to you, listen to you talk and laugh with you.

He was being a brat basically, being a child about it. But despite that, he was also fully amused by your reaction to the game. This was the first time he’d ever seen you play a video game like this and the fact you became so fully immersed in it was exceptionally entertaining.

Why he was surprised about that, he didn’t really know. You most definitely had the personality of someone who would commit themselves to something 100% when they found a thing that was truly interesting to them. Just looking at the abundance of Pokémon around your apartment told him that.

But still...he wasn’t sure why he had such a strong desire for your attention. He was never normally like this with relationships, though admittedly he hadn’t had a relationship extend past three months in a while now. Not for lack of trying of course, but he’d just never quite found someone to click with.

And at the risk of sounding like an old man, at the age of 28, he wasn’t really interested in investing his time and effort into someone who he could already tell he didn’t particularly care for. Hoseok felt like there were three types of people by his age; those who had found love and were happy and content in it, those who weren’t interested in dating and were focusing on themselves and those who were in a relationship purely for the sake of it.

The first group had already started marrying and having babies, Namjoon and Jimin for example, while the second group showed no interest in any of that. Which was perfectly fine obviously. Taehyung and Yoongi were prime examples of people who had no interest and didn’t seem to show any indication of wanting to show interest.

But Hoseok didn’t want to be in the third group, dating just for the sake of dating. He’d done that for years now, had one-night-stands throughout his college years, and maybe even a few he definitely regretted in the end stages of high school. So he wanted what some of his friends had found.

And he’d found that with you, which had been beyond surprising to him. You were most definitely not who he would have picked as his first choice to date, which sounded bad but he was just being honest. He hadn’t thought that he liked girls who liked cute things, nor had he thought he’d had the temperament and patience to put up with your anxieties and stresses.

He had though, finding within himself a deep need to make you happy and experiencing enjoyment at how slow things were progressing. His friends found it wild that everything was moving at a glacial pace and that Jung Hoseok of all people was going along with it and not complaining. But he liked it, he liked discovering your little quirks and traits slowly.

It was like unwrapping a present, with each new thing he learnt about you being his present. And he loved it so much. Which meant that he enjoyed learning this new thing about you, or rather how intense you got in video games you liked.

But still...he wanted your attention.

He was like a child; a whiny and petulant toddler. He knew this, but he couldn’t stop. Almost didn’t want to.

Which is why he was slowly inching his way over to you on the couch, hoping that his slow movements would catch your attention. It was only when he was almost on top of you that he realised it wasn’t working, causing him to sigh deeply and flop back against the couch in what could politely be called a mantrum.

“Do you want me to order food? Or make food? I can make it...can’t guarantee it tastes great but I can make it.” Hoseok asked, his voice light as he questions you. And it’s like he never spoke with the quiet ‘hmm’ you give back to him.

His bottom lip pushes out once more as he opens up his takeout app, inputting your address and ordering pizza for you both. There was no need to ask what you wanted, he knew what you liked by now.

A sudden outburst of unintelligible noises from you causes him to look up with an amused quirk of his brow, watching as your face scrunched in annoyance as you shake your controller at the screen again, teeth gritted together. And suddenly, he’s not bothered that you’re not paying attention to him anymore. Not when you look that cute.

Slowly, he’s not entirely sure why he’s doing it quietly as well when you’re paying zero attention to him, he opens the camera on his phone and angles it towards you with a smile. He takes a few careful seconds to get the best angle before pressing the button, the shutter noise unnoticed by him as he checks on the photo.

Tongue sticking out of the side of his mouth slightly, he hums to himself as he opens up the photo editing app he has on his phone and begins to edit it. Shifting the exposure, contrast and more, he turns what could’ve been a boring photo into something befitting you.

“Did you just take a photo of me?” You ask suddenly, causing him to look up with wide eyes. For a moment, he’s too startled to speak before he gives a playful scowl, poking your side with a finger.

“Oh, so now you listen to me? Huh?” He teases, sticking his tongue out at you. Your eyes drop to it slightly before skittering away quickly, causing him to smile internally. Hoseok was not as immune to your glances and movements as you thought he was. He just chose not to do anything about them because he didn’t want to push you.

“I was listening...you just weren’t saying anything interesting…” The words trail off halfway through you saying them, as if you realise how offensive they could come off. Immediately your eyes widen, mouth opening in what he’s positive is an apology. He’d normally let you, knowing it would soothe your anxieties to know that you’d said sorry to him but he doesn’t care today. It didn’t bother him.

“I’m not gonna argue with you. But yeah, I took a picture. You looked cute, all focused. I never realised you become dead to the world basically when playing a game. I’ve been lonely.” Hoseok makes his eyes go big, an earnest look being matched with slightly pouting lips to give you a face of pure innocence.

It doesn’t work evidently, given the way you roll your eyes at him. But it gets a smile out of you so he considers that a win.

“Hoseok...I don’t really like my photo being taken…” You whine quietly, fingers playing with the controller nervously. Over the last four months, Hoseok had learnt to analyse your body's movements carefully. They spoke your inner thoughts more than your mouth did and he could tell that you were feeling anxious.

“Hey, hey...come here. Look at it...see I edited it! You’re gorgeous!” He turns his phone to let you see, smiling brightly at you as your eyes glance over it. Lower lip being chewed slowly, your shoulders deflate as you push it back.

“No I’m not, I look fat and ugly. I don’t have a good side.” Silence falls after that statement, Hoseok’s mind frozen in sheer disbelief at your words. He wants to sigh heavily, shout at you that you’re wrong. Every part of him wants to shake you and make you see that you’re beautiful, flaws and all.

But he doesn't because he knows you wouldn’t like it. So instead he purses his lips, smacking them and making a noise as he tries to figure out a way to tell you that actually, you’re an idiot. He doesn’t want to hurt you though, so he knows that he has to tread a fine line.

Shuffling close, he presses himself to your side and holds up the phone to you, showing the photo once more. “I want to argue you with so bad right now, but all I’ll say is...you’re wrong. I think you’re pretty, cute even. Look at that scowl, it’s adorable. And look, you’ve seen the double chin I get when I’m laid down.”

“Oh please, as if that makes you look bad. You know you’re gorgeous, look at you.” You gesture at all of him, and he sighs, wrapping his arms around you tightly and kissing you all over your face until you’re no longer whining but giggling loudly. He doesn’t stop though, making the most over exaggerated noises as he does so.

“Oh no, oh no, the travesty of having to kiss this beautiful face. Oh please, I can’t handle it. It’s such a trial for me, to have to do this. Why couldn’t they give me someone less pretty? But it’s only fair that someone with my looks gets to kiss someone like you.” He gets the words out loudly between kisses, half laughing as he does it and fully enjoying the way that you practically shriek with laughter beneath him, body shaking.

Stopping, he just watches you for a moment with a soft smile, enjoying the brightness in your eyes that has replaced the fear and self-loathing. He really wishes that he could show you how he sees you compared to how you see yourself, but he supposes he’ll just settle for showering you with affection.

“Look...seriously...I like this.” He says quietly, resting his head on your shoulder as he shows you the photo once more. You don’t say anything this time, just look at the screen quietly with your head resting against his own. “Do you want me to delete it though? I will if you want.”

“No...if you like it...I just...I don’t have pictures taken often of me. I don’t really like it because I never really think I look good. It takes at least fifteen tries to get one I find acceptable for Instagram.” Chewing his lip, he sighs as he wavers on what to do. He doesn’t want to do something that will make you unhappy, but at the same time...he loves photography. And he wants to photograph you so badly.

Proper photographs too, with his DSLR that he’ll edit with Photoshop on his laptop. He just knows that he can take photos that even you will love and he truly thinks they’ll be some of his best work yet. There’s no way he can go wrong when he has such a beautiful muse here.

“Seriously Hoseok, it’s okay. You can keep it. You have nice editing skills.” Smiling, he clicks through the menu options on his phone before he’s moving the photo slightly, setting it at the right size and centralizing it before saving it as his home screen. It’s only then that you realise what he’s done, eyes widening.

“Did you just make that your home screen?” You ask incredulously and he snorts, nodding with a grin as he shows you with pride. Carefully, he moves his app icons around until you’re no longer covered by them, letting him see you perfectly every time he unlocks his phone. He loves it.

“Yes I did, and it’s perfect. I’ve been wanting a photo of you for a while,” Glancing over at you, he smirks ever so slightly. “I know you’ve got a picture of me as your home screen. The one of me at Namjoon’s barbeque last year where I’m looking away. Jungkook took it and I had it for my Facebook profile for a while.”

The squirm you do let’s him know that you’re probably dying inside but he’s far too amused and pleased with himself over this. Honestly his chest had probably swollen three sizes in pride and ego when he’d glimpsed it the other day. There was something oddly satisfying at knowing you had him on your phone.

And now he had you.

Eyes widening suddenly, he shifts upwards to give you with a shocked look. “I just realised...we’ve never taken a selfie together! If you’re okay with that.”

“I don’t really take them often...you’ve seen my Instagram.” Snorting, he rolls his eyes and moves until he’s sitting up against you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and hugging you to him. You don’t push him away though, nor do you tell him not to take one.

“That’s a fucking travesty. You should bless the world with your face more. And you spend all that time doing that makeup!” Now it’s your turn to roll your own eyes, pushing at him lightly.

“I do that because I like it, not because I want to show off.” He opens up the camera app once more, shifting the camera to be front facing and watching as his screen fills up with your faces.

“Well you should show off. You’re really talented with it and I’m sure there’s loads of people that would like to see more of it. There’s like...a whole section of Instagram dedicated to it. I know, cos I looked after I saw your pictures. You could be like...the next NikkieTutorials or Tati Westbrook!” It’s only because of the camera facing you both that he sees your incredulous expression, brows furrowing in surprise before they morph into amusement.

“Have you been watching beauty YouTubers?” Glancing at you, he shrugs uncaringly.

“You like them, so I figured I’d see what they’re about. Not really my thing but at least I half understand what you’re talking about when you bang on about primers and toners and all that shit. Besides, I have discovered that they apparently live scandalous lives and I’m oddly entertained by all the drama even though I have no idea who they are.” Hoseok says absentmindedly, mind drifting back to all those drama videos he’d accidentally ended up watching when he fell down the YouTube rabbit hole one night.

You let out a peal of laughter, the sound bright and happy and it makes his stomach twist slightly to hear it. He likes your laughter.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe you actually watched that. So does this mean we can watch drama channels when you’re here?” Letting out a deep and bone weary sigh, he nods slowly before leaning over to kiss your cheek.

As he does so, he quickly angles the phone and snaps a photo of you both. You don’t realise what he’s done at first until he brings the screen for you to look at, grinning down at the image of you both that has been immortalised in high quality pixels.

You’re laughing still, mouth stretched into a wide smile of joy while your eyes are closed, the skin around them creased ever so slightly from happiness. His side profile is clearly evident, the gentle lighting of your room surprisingly good for this picture and his lips are pressed firmly to the soft skin of your cheek, lip ring shifted into view from the movement.

There’s no makeup on your face and you’re wearing an oversized white shirt with Kirby on it while he’s in his usual band shirt. The difference between you both is startling, but it makes his heart flutter a little oddly as he looks at it with a gentle smile.

Looking over at you, he realises that you haven’t said anything about it and he worries that you’re unhappy with the photo. Instantly, he stresses that maybe he’d done a bad thing and he’s about to apologise to you, chastened by his excitement.

But then you give him a shy smile, leaning into him and burrowing your head into the space between his neck and shoulder. “I...I actually like that. It looks...nice. Though you should probably edit it, edit my flaws and all that.”

Giving you a deadpan expression, he just pushes at your shoulder before rolling his eyes. “I’m going to forget I heard that. So...anyway.”

Despite what he said though, he does edit it and shows you what he uses and what he thinks the best edit would be. He lets you play around with the editing too, smiling as you make the photo look horrific by maxing out different sliders before letting him edit it exactly how he wants.

And then once he’s done, he goes onto Facebook and uploads it as his new profile picture.

The stunned silence from you has him looking over cautiously, taking in your shocked face which soon quickly morphs into shyness. It makes his chest hurt a little to see how you react to something as simple as him changing his profile picture to a picture of you both.

He doesn’t say anything though, recognising this as a moment that you’d need to work through it yourself. So instead, he presses his lips to your cheek once more before using his fingers to tilt your face towards his, capturing your lips with his. The movement is bordering on natural now, four months into your relationship.

“So...I ordered pizza which should be arriving soon. Think you might want to take a break?” Hoseok asks, nodding towards the screen where Geralt has been stood quietly for the last ten minutes as he’d distracted you successfully. Pursing your lips, you consider for a moment before shaking your head with a grin, picking up your controller once more.

And that’s when he realises that you had been paying attention to him the whole time. You’d just been refusing to give in to his whining. He almost says something before shaking his head with an exasperated smile, getting up when your doorbell goes off.

Well played, he thought to himself as he took the pizza boxes before standing for a few moments and watching as you became involved once more, well played indeed.

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vaguely-concerned · 4 years ago

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The Mandalorian s2 ep1 Reactions Post That’s right I’m BACK

and none of you not even god himself can stop me from rambling about space cowboy dad and tiny green baby stuff for much longer than any sane person should

the TL;DR is that I still love this show SO MUCH, beware a bunch of spoilers under the cut!

- costume design wise I LOVE how badly the armour fits Cobb Vanth

especially when you get shots with him and Din side by side for contrast:

It’s not just that it’s clearly not made for him (it seems he’s a lot lankier and more wiry than Boba is), he simply doesn’t know how to wear it, and he doesn’t know how to take care of it, because he doesn’t know what it means. Remember when Din’s breastplate got bent completely out of shape by the mudhorn and he had it repaired to the best of his ability long before they even finished with the ship? That’s why he looks so grounded and natural in it and Vanth has sort of a clumsy Spiderman-in-his-first-home-made-costume air about him. (also Boba’s helmet has a beautiful heft and solidity to it in this, they make all the beskar have a Feel and weight to it, makes it feel important)

I like that Vanth is taller than Din; everything that drives home that Din’s strength doesn’t come from being naturally physically imposing or impressive is a joy to me

- Boba’s armour seems to be confirmed to be real beskar, which gives me so much hope that they’re doing something actually nuanced and interesting with Boba and Jango’s cultural identities as Mandalorians (whether they do consider themselves that or not, for example), unlike George Lucas’ inexplicable yet unbending stance of ‘They aren’t and never were lol get fucked Fetts’

the way the triumphant heroic part of the mando music sputtered and died when the man himself showed up tho... uh-oh this might be bad news

man but that’s a stunning and surprising way to introduce a well-known character divorced from what makes them so iconic, though, just from that I’m going to trust they know what they’re doing (AND they got temuera morrison back I’m so EXCITED!!!). without the armor there’s the face of someone who shared that face with literal millions and at the same time must be looking older than his father ever got to at this point, and that’s super interesting as a starting point to me. (I... guess there’s still a chance it’s a fakeout and that it’s actually another clone, but that would be such a letdown when they’ve already given us this haha)

- an excellent [mando sighs] moment

this opening scene did a great job of re-summarizing him for the audience -- establishing again that he gives you one chance at dealing with him fairly and if you insist on continuing to be an asshole about it, you’re toast, the fact that his fighting style is so much about being able to tank blows rather than not getting hit in the first place, the horror movie monster mando setup as he stalked the dude down and strung him up, the Poetic Justice predicated on some very careful word choices, and most importantly “where I go, he goes”... all wonderful, I’m sure I’ll watch this scene back for fine details and better looks at the background characters many many times

(word seems to have spread about him and the baby for real now, which makes me VERY nervous btw)

- Pulserifle’s back! Jetpack’s back! Razor Crest’s back! Grappling line’s back! PELLI’S BACK!!!!!! Tattooine... is also back *Finn voice* Why does everyone want to go back to Tattooine????

I really enjoyed the way they fleshed out and (for lack of a better word) humanized the sand people, though, if you are going back to this desert hellplanet again that is a worthy reason to do it

- Din swearing :O!! and one of the less egregious star wars swears too, I’m fine with this

- in campaign star wars news: I guess there was sort of both a binbon and a jubna in this ep! what a time to be alive

- as usual I love the jawa. a bright spot in any day, just a bunch of lil goblin-y friends hanging out having the best time loving sparkly crystals and rescuing silver foxes.

get in loser we’re going shopping

I uh. Do you think. Hm. Is there maybe a metaphor here somewhere. Is there perhaps a hidden, one may say double, meaning, at play, right here, in this image? Who can say, it’s just niggling at me (there’s a very similar set of shots with Toro in season 1, but seemingly the show went ‘I fear we might have gone too subtle with it, let’s amp it up this time’ over the season break loool)

honestly though this dynamic really highlighted everything I love about the ways Din performs masculinity. It’s so much softer and more community/collaboration focused and more comfortable to be around than Vanth’s version -- and Vanth isn’t a bad dude by any stretch of the imagination, it’s not hard to see why he’s like that considering where he’s from, he’s just such a... man. The lone person who can protect this village! The only man who’s got what it takes! It’s all on his shoulders and no one else’s, so do exactly as he says or he’ll put a hole in you! (I think it’s telling that one of his first comments to Din is ‘I’m sure you call the shots wherever you’re from, but ‘round here, I’m the person who tell folks what to do’, because as we as the audience knows, Din very much does not call the shots of where he’s from lol) I guess it says some nice things about the tribe of Mandos Din is from that this is how he approaches things, and it says some good things about Vanth how quickly he comes around to this smarter and less confrontational/domineering style of doing things once he’s been exposed to it and sees how it works. it’s just neat

(it’s smart of Favreau to set his ~*lone gunslinger*~ character up like this, too, it makes him so much more interesting and versatile)

- With the way Din says ‘a Mandalorian Armorer sent me on my path’ it does seem confirmed that’s the equivalent of a priest role or a sort of shaman -- I wonder if he knows the name of ‘The’ Armorer or if they take on the role as a whole identity

- the sheer contrast between the two people who wanted Din to take his helmet off for them in this ep tho... wants Mando’s armour off for horrible awful reasons and got exactly what he deserved:

wants Mando’s armour off for entirely sympathetic and understandable, just culturally uninformed, thirsty thirsty reasons & also having drinks together:

(the sort of... little lick over his bottom lip he does there? keep it in your pants vanth my GODjflsadf he’s a good dude tho he understands and respects the ‘no armour removal before marriage’ thing and backs down gracefully)

- This is a nuanced thing: I don’t think I actually ship it (not in a requited way from Din’s side, anyway, Vanth I’m 100% sure about lol), but the incredible potential for out-of-context-taking of “Take it off, or I will”/”...we doin’ this in front of the kid?” is uh astounding

(anyone got the vibe Vanth sort of had something with the bartender too? no just me? well well)

- I was never really scared Din was actually dead or hurt b/c baby wasn’t scared and I figure he’d know lol, a very useful fear barometer

- “What’s the plan?” “Take care of the child” “What are you gonna do?” “I don’t know, but wish me luck *yeets his new bro out of harm’s way before diving in head first himself*” fksdjhfkjlashdfkjsldahfkasldjhfskldajhfsadkjfh WHAT a summation of Din’s entire approach to battle & life, dad please you carry a not insignificant part of my heart around with you be careful

(Also with the heavy implication that Boba was watching the whole thing... can you imagine him just looking on as Din throws himself down that gullet like a madman. There must have been some ‘o_-7 *headscratch headscratch* ???’ going on for him there)

it’s kind of sweet that din trusts vanth will take care of the baby if something happens though, they really bonded quickly huh

- the sand people who kept willingly going over to the krayt dragon’s cave are honestly braver and more admirable than anyone else has ever been, I kept just shouting in anguish as they were gobbled up, they deserved better

- can we talk about how clear it still is that Din’s just... lonely. When he thinks he’s found another Mando and he sounds almost reverent with relief... and then it gets odder and odder (’uh... drinks? I guess... does he have drinking straws with him or -- HE’S TAKING THE HELMET OFF???’ oh buddy)

I wonder if they’re building towards something about him realizing it doesn’t have to be Mandos for him to trust and bond with people longer term? Basically all the characters he’s met and we’ve watched him form attachments to and get help from are non-Mandos -- Kuiil :’^(, Cara, Omera, Cobb Vanth, IG-11 :^’’(, Greef Karga to a degree. Establishing so firmly what he’s looking for this early would be good setup for a ‘what a character thinks they want vs. what they need’ thing later on just on a writing level, anyway, Boba Fett could bring in some interesting points of view about Mandalorianness too

- baby’s happy gurgles when he sees pelli!!!!!! din speaking sand people language and petting alligator doggies!!!!!!

- pedro pascal’s voice work remains an utter joy to me. din’s measured, earnest, occasionally slightly stilted way of talking is still so good, and then he does things like inserting some more... idk life is the wrong word but that more charged and dynamic tone he took on when he said (”I thought you weren’t a gambler”) “I’m not”. *chef kiss*

- if the pulse rifle’s stun is able to do that to a fuckn krayt dragon... that’s some serious shit din is carrying around with him lol (interestingly the actual shooty pew-pew part of it didn’t seem to do much to it, but then I guess he was shocking it from the inside out and not through thick hide, so idk)

- my only real complaints about this ep: Vanth’s backstory ran a bit long, and not enough baby & dad interaction. the concept art’s got me tho:

(din often wears his original/old armour in concept art still, incidentally, don’t know what that’s about)

awwwwwww

+ omfg ;______;

- this sand people person conscientiously brushing a bantha’s teeth... blessed

- Customary flame thrower report: there was a rare useful deployment of the flamethrower. Good job Mando’s flame thrower for furthering the field of diplomacy

ETA: I CAN’T BELIEVE I FORGOT TO MENTION THIS: DIN BEING COMFORTABLE(ISH) AROUND DROIDS NOW!!!! GROWTH????!?! IG-11 WE MISS YOU??????????

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian spoilers #star wars #the mandalorian meta #meta #(I'm trying to label my meta more specifically these days b/c the general meta tag is a MESS on my blog lol)#mmmmmmmm feels good to break out the overanalysis goggles again it's time to OVERTHINK SOME SHIT my friends

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sablelab · 5 years ago

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Covert Operations - Chapter 120

SYNOPSIS: It has been a couple of days since Jamie and Claire were admitted to Med Lab when Madeline decides to make a visit to ask about their progress. She visits both patients and once she has gone Jamie organises to visit Claire in the dead of night with Fergus’ help.

Chapter 119 and all other chapters can be found at … https://sablelab.tumblr.com/covertoperations

THANK YOU all for your continued support of this story. Much appreciated.

CHAPTER 120

As he walked out of Med Lab, Dr Jeremy Foster stopped in his tracks upon seeing Madeline as it had been a couple of days since either of Section’s leaders had last visited their two operatives. He had kept them well informed as to Jamie and Claire’s progress and was not surprised that Section’s second in command had finally decided to pay a visit to Medical. He hoped that the reason why Madeline was here was because she and Operations had reached a decision about downtime now that they were showing signs of improvement. “Dr Foster I’m glad you’re still here.” He gave her a nod of recognition. “How are the patients?” "The patients are not in the best of moods I’m afraid. Claire is getting bored and Jamie is … well … Jamie.” Madeline was not at all surprised that James Fraser was far from being a model patient. Section’s top operative was loath to be incapacitated at the best of times and no doubt he was ready to get out of Med Lab. “Tell me about their progress.” Jeremy Foster held nothing back, knowing that Madeline wouldn’t expect anything less. “Superficially, both Jamie and Claire look as though they are well on the road to recovery. They both have had their intravenous drip removed and their hourly observations reports have been sound. Overall, I’m pleased to say that both of their physical injuries are healing quite nicely.” “What’s Jamie’s status?” “Considering the state under which he entered Medical on his return from the mission, Jamie has indeed made excellent progress over the last couple of days. He has improved significantly but, as you know Madeline, this is not totally unexpected. James Fraser always seems to heal quickly due to his superb physical conditioning and training.” “Anything else?” “Although his blood pressure is a little elevated, I’m not concerned as his other data has been good. Since his blood transfusions, his anaemia has improved, his wound seems to be healing satisfactorily and there has been no infection. Jamie is still on pain relief as his injury will be tender for a while yet. He also doesn’t have complete mobility back in his shoulder. Unfortunately, this could take some time. He will definitely need some rehabilitation and physiotherapy to help build up his core strength.” He gave Madeline an earnest look before adding, “Despite his operation, Jamie seems to have fared the better of the two.” With her non-verbal reply, Dr Foster was unable to gauge Madeline’s reaction to this current news about Jamie’s condition as her expression was unreadable. No doubt she was mentally weighing up this information and ticking the boxes in her head as to her next plan of action. Glancing at her he reiterated his point once more, “I am pleased that Jamie is showing improvement each day, but I am somewhat concerned about Claire.” This time Madeline answered looking at him for clarification, “Meaning...?” “It’s the wounds I cannot see to treat that worry me. Physically, although Claire is recovering well, I’m concerned about her mental wellbeing and I’m also worried about her emotional state of mind. She still bears the scars of her captivity. These physical marks are a constant reminder of what happened to her. Under the circumstances it is little wonder that she is emotionally drained. Having been subjected to the kind of prolonged torture she endured, there is no way of telling as to the impact that being incarcerated has had on her psyche.” Madeline was well aware that the situation that Claire had faced could cause depression and anxiety and given the nature of her personality, succumbing to either of these conditions was feasible. Although Section operatives were trained to deal with such emotions, maybe, just maybe, given Claire’s state of mind and the severity of her afflictions that her wounds were deeper than first expected. Reluctantly she too had come to the same conclusion. Having done psyche evaluations on Claire in the past, it was possible that this mission had had a far greater effect than what her capture and torture by Red Cell had done to her on a previous mission. She listened as Jeremy Foster continued. “The kind of torture Claire experienced often causes severe mental scars that are much slower to heal than the physical ones you can see. As doctors, we don’t know the damage that has been done to a person's spirit or to their subconscious often until it's too late.” “Yes … I can see your point.” If what Dr Foster had told her was true any psyche analysis she’d planned would need to be postponed until Claire was mentally better. There was no way that Operations would tolerate an operative who was not 100% ready and able to be sent back on such an important mission to capture Sun Yee Lok once and for all. There was much on the line for them. Colum in particular had already given them a succinct directive. It seemed she had few options but she would need to discuss her findings with Operations after her visit. To bring an End Game to this troublesome triad group, they needed Jamie and Claire to be functioning at their optimum level as they were crucial players in the final scenario. “When can they be released?” The doctor considered the question for a brief moment before replying, knowing that his answer may be crucial to the decision that Madeline and Operations would make about Jamie and Claire’s recuperation. “I want to keep them both in for at least another twenty-four hours. If they continue to show continued improvement, I see no reason as to why they should stay under observation any longer than that. May I add that rehabilitation away from Section One would be the preferred option for the maximum success in their recovery. I think you will find that they will bounce back much better if you and Operations decide that this is the best course of action.” Madeline was stoic in her demeanour and did not comment on what Dr Foster had said but merely replied with, “I’d like to see them for myself now.” Comprehensively put back in his box his replied, “Of course. But I wouldn’t stay too long … Claire still needs her rest.” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ When Claire Beauchamp heard the electronic “whoosh” of the automatic doors opening and the sound of high heels echo in her room, she immediately knew who had entered. The footsteps came closer and she sensed her visitor’s presence as she stood at the foot of her bed. She was sure that Madeline was scrutinizing her up and down with those unforgiving dark eyes making her own assessment as to her condition. Opening her eyes Claire met the intense gaze from Section’s second in command. “Dr Foster said that you're doing quite well.” Claire sat up a little and folded her arms across her chest in a defensive manner as she met her leader’s probing look. “I've been better, but I'll live.” Madeline gave her a wry smile. “I'm sure you will. You’re looking much better than the first time I saw you.” “Thank you.” “How are you feeling?” She asked, although her attempt at motherly concern fell on deaf ears. Claire turned and glanced at her. Madeline looked like any concerned parent for their child, but she knew otherwise. Her superior never did anything out of compassion and she doubted the sincerity of her words and the smile she gave her. Claire was wary of Madeline’s intentions. There was always an ulterior motive and her visit here was no exception.

Why was she being so nice? Was she baiting her so that she would drop her guard and say something she shouldn’t? You could never tell with Madeline, but what did she have to lose?

Seizing the opportunity presented to her Claire smiled back and asked nonchalantly, “So … when can I get out of here?” “Probably in a day or two, but that decision is up to Dr Foster.” “Oh …” Her superior noticed Claire’s eyes widen with unspoken questions. She guessed that they were concerning Jamie’s discharge as well. “Would that be a problem?” Madeline’s eyes focused on Claire’s face trying to read her reaction to her statement. “No …That’s fine. I’m going a bit stir crazy not being able to do anything. I’m so ready to get outta here.” Madeline walked closer to the head of the bed. “Yes ... I’m sure you have, but that will change soon enough. Let’s hope Dr Foster thinks you are well enough in a day or two shall we. Until then I guess you’ll have to amuse yourself, I’m afraid.” She smiled at her again. “I’m sure you’ve had some visitors … that should have help with the boredom.” “Murtagh and Fergus have been here.” “Yes …” Madeline’s eyes zeroed in on Claire’s. “… I know.” With all the surveillance cameras in Med Lab closely monitoring personnel twenty-four hours a day, Madeline was just reminding her that she knew who, when and how often they had visited. To rub salt into the wound knowing that her words would cut Claire to the bone she added, “I’m sure Jamie would have been here as well … If he’d been able.” Each word Madeline had just spoken was like a bard to the heart. Pressing her lips together, Claire closed her eyes thinking of Jamie in ICU. The pain, of not being able to see him, cut deep. Murtagh had said he was doing fine but until she had seen him for herself then she would not be at peace. Claire fought to keep her composure at Madeline’s well aimed taunt. She of all people knew what they’d both gone through on the mission yet she took satisfaction in her vindictiveness coated with concern and veiled kindness to push home a point.

How could she have forgotten that there was always a hidden agenda to what Madeline had to say? Section would always be the winner. There was no room for all the qualities she tried to hold onto because Section wanted to browbeat them out of her. Madeline scrutinized the emotions that crossed Claire’s face. The tell-tale swollen vein in her neck was a dead giveaway that her heart rate had accelerated and her face had lost its colour. There was something between the two operatives that went beyond mentor and material, and knowing that they were to have some downtime together was gnawing at her craw. It would only strengthen their bond and this could affect their performance in the field. Operations would not tolerate collusion between two operatives … especially their two best field operatives. It could put Section at risk. Yet when Claire looked at her, her composure was evident. She smiled brightly. “I'm sure he will … when he’s able. Maybe I could visit him instead.” “Yes … no doubt you are keen to see how he is too.” Noticing that Dr Foster had re-entered the room, Claire put her hand across her mouth stifling a yawn and hoping that he might intervene and cut short Madeline’s visit. He caught her eye and came to her rescue. “I think it is time that the patient got some rest Madeline. Doctor's orders." Without turning around she acknowledged his request, “Of course.” She smiled once more at Claire then gave her shoulder a light tap. “Operations and I will drop by tomorrow to see how you're feeling. He’s anxious to check up on you as well.” “Thank you.” Then turning towards Jeremy Foster Madeline uttered her next command. “I’d like to see Jamie now.” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The sound of the automatic doors opening registered in James Fraser’s mind, but he didn't bother turning his head around at the sound. He knew who it was. There was only one person that he wanted to see ... and it certainly wasn’t Madeline. Obviously she’d been told his recovery was better than the doctors had expected. No wonder she had felt compelled to come down to check on him to see if that was true. If there was any chance of him returning to the Rising Dragons mission quicker than expected then Madeline would grab it with both hands. He’d improved day by day; his strength was gradually returning and he’d finally turned the corner. This Intel would be most pleasing to Section’s leaders as the more time Sun Yee Lok and his triad were left to their own devices to restructure once more, the smaller the window of opportunity Section had to contain them while they were still vulnerable. Regrouping and rebuilding the triad was a possibility not to be taken for granted. The more the Rising Dragons grew in strength the more Section would be on the back foot. Resources were already stretched to the limit with other pending missions. If the Rising Dragons triad reinvented itself by amalgamating with other triad groups, this could mean greater problems also. Hence, Section wanted an End Game to happen as expediently as possible and for that they needed both he and Claire. Jamie also hated being in Med Lab any longer than necessary and Madeline knew this only too well. Was she here to say he was getting out of here? If so, then what about Claire? When would she be out of medical too? It had been several long, miserable days since he and Claire had been taken into Med Lab and he was determined to see her now he wasn’t hooked up to all the equipment and monitors. Although Fergus and Murtagh had been making visits to see Claire in shifts and had given him progress reports on her welfare, it was not enough. He needed to see her for himself. He had little concern for his own welfare when the person he cared most about was but a heartbeat away … but now Madeline had turned up un-expectantly. He hoped her visit would be brief. Her footfalls stopped and Jamie could hear her speaking to Dr Foster for a short while. He assumed she was going over the doctor’s notes on his condition. He closed his eyes knowing that Madeline would soon come nearer. He braced himself for her visit. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Jamie was surprised that Operations wasn’t with her. No doubt Madeline was here to ascertain what the chances were of his release from Med Lab and his recovery timeframe back to mission status. As he lay in bed waiting for her to finally speak with him, Murtagh’s words suddenly echoed in his head from his and Fergus’s visit earlier this evening. “I see you have finally decided to visit Claire tonight. I was wondering how long it would take.” But he had also uttered some concern. “Do you think that a wise move in your condition?” His condition was of no consequence. All that mattered was his Claire. He would know soon enough for himself, then he would be satisfied. Jamie had planned to see her as soon as everything was quiet for the night. More than likely Madeline had already paid a visit to Claire’s bedside and now, her impromptu visit had put a damper on his plans for the time being. It was inconvenient but not a total set back. He would prevail when he could. Jamie had arranged for Fergus to deactivate the surveillance cameras in Med Lab but in particular his and Claire’s room for a while and replace them with a recorded feed when he said so. When Operations and Madeline monitored the tapes, as they would, they would find that he was still in infirmary and everything was normal. They would be none the wiser that he had been to Claire’s room and seen her. Instead they would be watching the feed that Fergus had instigated without knowing anything had occurred between the two operatives. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ “How are you doing?” The sound of Madeline’s question roused Jamie back to reality. He turned his head and looked at Section’s head strategist as she approached his bed. “I’m fine.” Jamie’s answer was nothing more than what she would have expected. Madeline knew exactly how he was doing. Dr Foster had told her. She’d read his files to clarify his observations, she and Operations had watched the surveillance tapes. They knew everything they needed to know. “Good …” She gave him a cheerful look then added. “Claire is recovering well also. That’s good news? Is it not?” Madeline knew Jamie wouldn’t react to her question; she was not surprised with his response. It was good news … in fact it was great news but he certainly wasn’t going to say that. The mission had brought him and Claire closer together to the point where he was now unable to deny his feelings. Unequivocally, irrefutably and completely he knew that he loved her. “Of course,” he responded with his customary laconic reply. Jamie’s eyes were vacuous in response not wanting to give his superior any more damning evidence of his feelings regarding Claire Beauchamp for her mental file. His show of concern when he bought her into Medical on their return from the mission was already damning enough. No doubt, it had left Operations and Madeline with just enough uncertainty for them to jump to conclusions about a relationship between the two of them. It would now be necessary for him to negate any thoughts they may suspect of a greater attachment between himself and Claire more than that of mentor and his recruit. Diffusing their attention away from any hidden agenda they may have about them and solely back onto the mission’s end game was his plan. Later that night … Madeline had long gone and Jamie waited until the night medic had finished his last observations and had also left before making his move. Seizing his chance and unable to fight the urgent need to know of Claire’s condition for himself any longer he contacted Fergus. “Covered?” “Yeah, they're watching the feed; they think you're in ICU.” “Good.” “The Med Lab staff don’t check on the patients when they are asleep unless they buzz Jamie, so … how much time do you need?” “An hour.” “The tape runs another three hours, but you won’t need all that time. “No.” “If there is any problem … Murtagh and I will cover it.” “Good. How is the feed? Is it clear?” ”It’s fine. You’ll have plenty of time. I’ll put the cameras back on real time when you’re ready just let me know and I’ll do the adjustment.” “Thank ye Fergus.” Gingerly Jamie got out of bed thankful that the cumbersome intravenous drip had been removed from his arm this morning. Steadying his body and ignoring the dull ache in his shoulder, he made his way to his Sassenach’s room. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ In the quiet of Med Lab, James Fraser stood like a looming sentinel in the doorway of Claire’s room. It was empty except for one lone cot, but his eyes immediately zeroed in on his love. His breath hitched in his throat as his eyes caressed Claire from head to toe as she lay in bed asleep. As he slowly walked over to her bed, he couldn’t look anywhere else but on the reposing form of the woman he loved. Moving closer to the bed he was able to observe his Sassenach much better while his eyes took inventory of everything about her. Jamie catalogued every inch of Claire’s exposed features riddled with the evidence of what she had suffered for the Section. He missed nothing. Although her face had been cleaned up, the extent of the injuries she’d endured were still clearly evident. Her beautiful, porcelain skin was riddled with dark lesions that had bruised her delicate face. Jamie studied her more closely. Claire still had deep circles under her eyes and she was far too pale for his liking. Madeline had said that she was recovering well, but to his eyes Claire was not. Any abrasion or blemish that marked her flesh was a kick to the gut for him and a firm reminder of what had happened to her. Now that her lacerations were more pronounced, he could see the lingering result of what was done to her. He felt physically sick to his stomach for what his beautiful Claire had suffered. Vivid images coursed his mind of their captivity at the monastery. His Claire bore the noticeable scars of the incarceration and torture she’d endured from Jonathon Randall. In time her physical wounds would heal and fade but it was the scars he couldn’t see that worried him more. Claire’s psyche would have taken a telling blow. Without a second thought, he vowed that he would avenge what the Rising Dragons had done to her. Caressing her once more, his lips wanted to kiss away the marks on her face and obliterate any sign of her torture. His feelings ran deep for this woman, deeper than he ever thought were possible and a longing so intense for her overpowered him. Jamie’s body shook with the desire he felt … a feeling so profound and strong it overwhelmed him. Claire Beauchamp was his everything. James Fraser ached for the woman who had his heart. She took his breath away. Claire was his lifeline … she was the only ray of sunshine in the hell hole of Section One. She brought lightness to his dark world and made his life worth living. Before Claire, he just existed; his life ruled by Section’s mantra. Missions were the means to an end and if he died what did it matter? Section had trained him to be the penultimate cold operative who killed without compunction. He was an emotionless, cold-blooded killing machine who had merely been existing in this hell hole that was Section One. His life before Section had ceased to exist. He was emotionally dead and cared not if he lived or died. Not only was he dead to the world he once knew, but more importantly he was dead inside. He cared nought for his own wellbeing and emotionally he was devoid of feelings for others. However, this mission had helped him realize something that was pointless for him to deny any longer. Because of Claire … he wanted to exist. She’d made him feel things he had buried deep inside, stirred emotions he had long ago denounced. Claire made him come alive. She had changed everything. He couldn’t live without her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~to be continued FRIDAY 15th May

#Jamieandclairefanfic #jamieandclairecrossover #jamieandclaireau #covert operations #LFNoutlander #the lallybroch library #outlander fanfic

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taetaesbaebaepsae · 6 years ago

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BTS Reactions to S/O Being a Dom (Maknae Line)

Request: anonymous asked: Hello, can you do a bts reaction where their girlfriend is a dom ( and I mean the real dom in the relationship not a fake do that became submissive in the end ) I'm tired of pseudo dom girlfriend Please I need it thank you 🙏

A/n: Hey nonnie so I’m doing Maknae Line just because I can imagine that a lot more than Hyung line (they be out here domming a lot) BUT I am willing to do Hyung line if you want it so hmu

Warnings: Smut, avert your eyes children, we’re all going to hell

Word Count: 1641

Taehyung

You’d been dating Taehyung for a couple of months before you spoke to him about your sexual proclivities

You were pretty sure he’d be okay with everything because he let you take the reins in bed almost all the time anyway

He loved to watch you ride him and praised you a lot during sex anyway

So when you explained to him what you really wanted he just kinda smiled at you and said in a low voice, “I’ll do whatever you want, Jagi.”

Which was super hot in his deep ass voice

So, Tae’s fave things about you being a dom are as follows

He loves it when you sit on his face and near suffocate him with your pussy

You’re the one that has to watch out for him turning red because he WILL NOT tap out

The first time you wore pointy stilettos and dug your heel into the base of his hard cock he almost came in his pants

Taehyung. Loves. Heels. I don’t make the rules

He loves the whole dom aesthetic if you wear leather and get a riding crop he’ll be all over it

He’ll be bucking and panting as you trail the riding crop along his length

He tries to be good but he’s kind of a bratty sub just because he begs so much

It takes him a while to lose control but when he does he’s hard to say no to because he’s all dark lusty eyes and deep, guttural groans

He knows just how to praise you to get you to finally touch him, too, he’ll say things like “I want you to touch me because I love you so much,” and “No one has ever made me this hard,” and you give in more than you plan to

You can tease him for a very long time before he’ll disobey you

It’s hard to find a punishment for him though because he loves all your normal ones so much

His eyes light up when you suggest punishing him by suffocating him so you’re like smh

His least favorite punishment is when you tie his hands behind him and absolutely will not go near him

You’ll touch yourself, give him a show and he watches you with desperate eyes, whimpering and moaning behind your panties that you gagged him with

You realize you have to gag him because he’s so loud and his deep moans make you way too horny to tell him no

He will barely ever use his safeword

The only time he will is when it physically hurts because he’s not all that into pain

He’s into you controlling him, making him hard with a glance and a wink

Loves to be teased in public but you don’t do it often because you found out he finds it very hard to be quiet

All the boys stared at you when Tae let out a strangled moan during a movie night when you kept stroking his cock through his sweatpants and then finally put your hand down them and squeezed hard

So you stick to digging your stilettos into his thigh at dinner and you love the way his face changes, eyes go all serious, jaw set in a hard line

You’ll tell him not to touch himself on tour

He’ll be so good about it until you decide to send him a series of aesthetic nudes

He’ll call you upset the next day, whining that he could’ve been good if you hadn’t done that

Loves it when you edge him but he gets frustrated after a while and will be a brat

You reward him more than you punish him, though, for sure

Pegging isn’t even a punishment because he loves the way you look with a strapon he gets so excited so fast just looking at you that he’s about to come before you ever put it in

If you offer to let him top as a reward, he might turn you down because he doesn’t really need it, but if you offer to let him come inside you he’ll be so grateful and so fucking loud when he comes, it’s his favorite reward

Constantly praises you in and out of the bedroom, telling you how amazing and beautiful you are every day

Taehyung is a great sub, tbh, don’t @me

Jimin

Jimin would live for his S/O being a dom

He is such a good boy, are you kidding me?

He will be bratty sometimes though bc he’s a mischievous little shit and he loves every punishment you can think up

Anal beads? Yes. Butt plugs? Yes. Pain? Yes.

Jimin’s like “safe words are for pussies”

You would have to almost kill him before he’d use it

Jimin loves everything about the situation but if you’re great with aftercare he’ll be so in love with you

He loves the praise, when you tell him he’s a good boy he’s hard all over again and it’s a cycle

After a while you don’t even have to tie him up, he’s such a good boy he’ll sit on his hands so he won’t touch you

If you tell him not to touch himself while he’s on tour for 6 months? He won’t

He’ll call you crying because he had a wet dream and didn’t mean to disobey you

Like he’ll disobey you on purpose sometimes but when he doesn’t mean to he’s so upset

You’d never punish him for something like that but he’ll beg you to punish him to make him feel better about it

If he senses you aren’t going hard enough because he didn’t mean to, he’ll be mad

He would love it if you made him wear your panties and somehow he’d look hotter than you do in them

You’re lowkey jealous

He gets rewarded a LOT

His favorite reward is when you eat his ass and jack him off while you’re telling him how pretty he looks

ANYWAY Jimin loves anal play and he’s not even shy about it

Will 100% come the hardest he ever has in his life when you fuck him with a strapon

The only time he actually will use a safe word is if you say something degrading or mean to him

He can’t handle it, he’s too soft and you’ll make him cry

You don’t want to say that kind of stuff anyway because he is almost always so good

He’ll praise you constantly, too, just as much as you do him

If you let him top you once as a reward you might kinda get into it and let him do it more often

Only as a reward, though, but lowkey he does make your legs shake

That’s the only time you don’t praise him as much so he thinks he’s not as good at topping, even for a reward

Because if you tell him how much you like it you wouldn’t really be a dom, would you?

Best baby boy at this, honestly, he’s in his element

Jungkook

Oh, Jeon Jungkook with a Dom S/O? You mean the brattiest sub to ever exist?

Hoo boy you’re in for a fight if you want to top this boy

I feel confident that he’d try it for an s/o he really cared about and he’s eager to learn your lifestyle

Thing is it’s difficult at first because he absolutely hates not being able to touch you

You’ll definitely have to tie him up

He’s just, so bratty, talks back, bucking up beneath you if you try and tease him

Whiny, pouty brat

Will use his safe word at first just because he’s so sexually frustrated

If he finally begs you, you’ve almost broken him because he’s proud

He really does try to be good, though, he wants to please you, he’s sweet and earnest

But you just make him so fucking hot he can’t handle it

Gets hard instantly when you sit on his face

Everything you do makes him hard though so what’s the difference?

He obeys on tour more than he does in person

He’ll be shy and blushy at first when you ask him to edge himself on Skype for you but halfway through he’s the one turning you on and you have to stop him because he’s all smirks and low moans

You really love it when he begs, though, when he goes all desperate, whiny moans tearing from his throat

You’ll make him come by barely touching him

Ruined orgasms are a thing that happens often with Jungkook

Sometimes it works and you give in but you know he lowkey loves being punished

Will let you peg him if he really, really disobeys you and deserves it or does something that hurts your feelings

He’ll be shy af about it but he’ll actually fucking love it and come all over himself when you’ve barely begun to move

You rarely let him top even as a reward but when you do he goes so hard you’ll be sore for a full day, he’ll go all out and give you bruises from slapping your ass so hard

During aftercare he ends up being sweeter to you than you are to him

You’ll take a bath with him and he’ll want to wash your hair and massage your scalp

A brat in bed but an absolute sweetheart outside of it, that’s the tea

Will do anything nonsexual you ask of him

Would be more into the nonsexual aspects of having a dom s/o than any of the boys and would be proud to be your pet in that way

Would be fully pussy whipped and admit it

But in bed be ready for attitude and him trying to seduce you and sometimes you will give in

You’re a dom but you’re not dead

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mittensmorgul · 5 years ago

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9.09, Holy Terror.

Remember, folks. Writers lie.

But Metatron slips back into the story like the proverbial serpent. I mean, that's literally the metaphor that applies, considering he's the one who finally unmasks Gadreel for us-the-audience, despite Dean still being in the dark. But there's far more manipulation going on in this episode...

As Gadreel tightens the screws on Dean, Metatron applies the exact right pressure to Gadreel. It's figworms within figworms, one after the other rotting the apple from the inside out, and everything is about to collapse.

Remember in the 9.06-9.07 post, I described the process through which Dean's lies and half-truths gradually came to light until they were completely out in the open? Well, that's beginning in earnest with his current round of increasingly unsustainable lies, and we begin to really see the toll it's all taking on Dean.

(also need to note one of the angels killed in the opening scene, his vessel was named "Red Dawg," in a season where Dean has both been referred to by the nickname "D-Dog," and also became an actual dog for an episode already... the MoC/demon Dean foreshadowing was pervasive in this season)

We've already seen Sam begin to crack under the weight of it all at the end of 9.08, but now both Dean and Cas will feel that burden, too...

Dean pushes Gadreel for an honest answer about Sam's recovery, pressuring him for a better answer, while Gadreel expresses his concern over working a case that potentially involves angels, but also leaving the entire burden of perpetuating the deception on Dean himself. And he's not doing well with that burden, and Sam's losing faith in himself and trust in Dean's increasingly shady answers...

SAM (getting agitated) No, it's more than Vesta! I mean, this kind of thing's been happening to me. Like, like, there are chunks of time just … missing. Like there are times when I'm... not here. DEAN Well, like I've said— SAM Yes, the trials. I know. I heard you. I heard you when you said it the last week and the week before that and the week before that. DEAN Yeah, because ... damn straight the trials. They whacked you, man. You're not up to warp speed yet, okay? But you will be. (Smiles at SAM.) Would I lie?

and

Blue light flashes in SAM’s eyes; EZEKIEL-IN-SAM is back. DEAN (knowing he's about to get more grief from EZEKIEL-IN-SAM) Oh, boy. EZEKIEL-in-SAM Well? What are you going to do about this? DEAN About Cas? EZEKIEL-in-SAM He is a beacon, Dean, pulling every angel for miles down on our heads. DEAN All right, you know what, Zeke? Level with me. What is it that you're so afraid of? EZEKIEL-IN-SAM I told you. When I chose to answer your prayers and heal Sam, I chose sides. That means I'm not in good standing with certain angels. DEAN Okay, well, you know what? Cas isn't in good standing with any angel, all right? But here he is, ass on the line, fighting the fight. So tell me, what makes you so special?

But Dean breaks down again and begins to strategically confess to Cas, still leaving out crucial pieces of information, but giving him enough that Cas does eventually begin to understand the gravity of Dean's situation:

CASTIEL (clears throat) I, um, I noticed you look... kind of uncomfortable whenever Sam mentions my leaving. Doesn't he know that you told me to leave? DEAN Here's the deal. When Sam was doing the trials to seal up Hell, it messed him up. Okay? The third one nearly killed him. If I'd let him finish, it would have. He's still messed up, bad. CASTIEL You said the angel, Ezekiel, helped heal him. DEAN (looks down, avoiding the question) Look, I got to do anything I can to get him back. Now, if that means that we keep our distance from you for a little while, then... Then I don't have a choice. I don't feel good about it, but I don't have a choice. It's great to have your help, Cas. Okay, but we just can't work together. CAS looks sad.

Bolding mine. I DON'T HAVE A CHOICE. I DON'T FEEL GOOD ABOUT IT, BUT I DON'T HAVE A CHOICE.

Cas, being Not A Moron™ now understands that everything that's happened since the angels fell, since Dean went to extraordinary measures to save Sam with "Ezekiel's" help, has put Dean in this impossible position. He might not know the true extent of it, but at the end of the episode when he calls Dean to warn him that "Ezekiel" is not who he's pretending to be, he knows that Dean absolutely NEEDS this information... which he could only have known if he understood that Dean had made some sort of as-yet-still-secret-by-necessity-of-Sam-continuing-to-be-not-dead pact with Fake Ezekiel...

And then, a truly horrible twist of circumstance as Cas searches for answers and is captured by a group of angels and tortured. Everyone is just doing what they have to do...:

CASTIEL Angels butchering angels. Is this what we've become? MALACHI Just following your example, Castiel. How many did you kill in Heaven? How many in the Fall? (off CASTIEL's look) Oh, you didn't know? A host of angels died when they fell – Azrael, Sophia, Ezekiel (At this last name, CASTIEL turns very thoughtful) ... "Died" doesn't even describe it. Devastation. Wings shredded, unspeakable agony at your hands. So, I think you would want to provide any information you have, considering... (pause; no response from CASTIEL) All right. I leave you in the hands of an artist. (to THEO) I don't care what's left. THEO Don't ask for mercy. There is none. THEO walks and shuts the door, then returns to CASTIEL, and picks up a drill. THEO I'll give you one last chance for this to end. CASTIEL Give me a quick death. CASTIEL closes his eyes and holds up his face in anticipation of the blow(s). THEO I need you to speak to Metatron. Everyone knows you have influence. CASTIEL now opens his eyes and looks in astonishment at THEO. THEO (continuing) He'll listen to you. Ask him to raise me to Heaven. You can do this, Castiel. I'll be a soldier for Metatron, do anything he wants. CASTIEL You – you serve Malachi. THEO I thought he was the answer, but he's crazy. CASTIEL You're... noticing this now? You were more than willing to do his dirty work. THEO I did what I had to.

So of course Cas does what he has to do, now that he knows what Metatron is up to, that Dean is in danger from the False Ezekiel:

CASTIEL (on the phone) Dean, I don't have a lot of time, so listen. The leader of the opposition is an angel named Malachi. DEAN How do you know that? CASTIEL He had me. I, uh, I was tortured. But I got away. DEAN How? CASTIEL I... I did what I had to. I became what they've become. A barbarian. DEAN What are you – Cas, where are you? CASTIEL It's better I stay away. They're gonna want me even more now. But I'm gonna be all right. I... I got my Grace back. Well, not mine per se, but it'll do. DEAN Wait, you're – you're back? You got your mojo? CASTIEL I'm not sure. But I am an angel. DEAN And you're okay with that? CASTIEL If we're going to war, I need to be ready.

Unfortunately Cas's warning comes too late to save Sam, or Kevin, and Gadreel takes over fully, having been deceived and manipulated into doing Metatron's dirty work, just as Cas had been in 8.22-8.23.

Which is why Cas immediately forgives Dean in the opening scenes of...

9.10, Road Trip.

(meanwhile, the angels all continue to be Terrible™ in the background, proving they were always Terrible™ and are only using Cas as a scapegoat, blaming their troubles on him when honestly they were all always Terrible Manipulative Bastards™ all on their own!)

(also, Andrew "what are cars even anyway" Dabb writing an episode called "Road Trip" makes me cackle)

Watching Dean suffering alone at the bunker (Gadreel even stole the Impala ffs), giving Kevin a hunter's funeral alone... this was hard. And then Cas showed up 100% understanding, and 100% ready to help however he could, back in a new trench now that he had his mojo back. So in that way, Dean had already resigned himself to having An Angel back, and not the same Cas he'd tossed out in his worst moment. It's his fault Cas was forced to go to that measure. Ouch.

I'd also like to point out the similarity between Metatron luring Cas in during s8-- starting by appealing to Cas's desire for atonement, his need for all the angels to stop the infighting and begin working together again, to restore order, and then luring him in to increasingly horrific acts he promised would achieve those ends. When Cas had balked, Metatron had manipulated circumstances to push Cas into doing them anyway. Same with Gadreel.

Metatron used the lure of being able to clear his name, back in 9.09:

METATRON: Relax. I'm not here to out you. But I am curious, why Ezekiel? NOT-EZEKIEL-IN-SAM They say he is a good, and ... honorable angel. METATRON Ahhhh. Everything they say you are not. I see your point... Gadreel. NOT-EZEKIEL-IN-SAM (henceforth to be known as GADREEL-IN-SAM) The stories about me – they are not true! METATRON And yet you spent countless thousands of years locked in Heaven's darkest dungeon. And now you're hiding in this human, posing as Ezekiel. (shakes his head) Tragic. It broke His heart to lock you away, you know? You were God's most trusted. That's why He chose you to protect the garden. Your one task was to keep evil from entering... from befouling His cherished creation, mankind, and you failed Him! GADREEL-IN-SAM Not my doing. METATRON Well, for whatever reason, the serpent entered. The Earth is cursed with evil. Someone had to be blamed.

Gadreel had been duped from the start. And he didn't let evil onto the Earth. Adam and Eve weren't tainted with evil when they ate the apple, they were tained with the KNOWLEDGE of good and evil. If knowledge could be considered a "curse" in the first place. And Gadreel just happened to be the one left standing there after the deed had been done, even if he was no more complicit in what resulted that Cas had been in Metatron's spell that made the angels fall. But unlike Cas, Gadreel believes Metatron truly wants to help him clear his name, or at the very least help him build his reputation anew by doing "good" now... and yiiiiiikes....

Gadreel was horrifically okay with killing Kevin on Metatron's orders, because Kevin was helping Dean perform a spell to eject him from Sam, and it was partly (at least he could rationalize it that way) self-defense. And he was all too happy to murder his former jailer who was now envesseled in a Justin Bieber wannabe. I believe we all cheered about that guy getting his comeuppance. But then Metatron orders him to kill the only angel Gadreel had considered a friend, who he'd been imprisoned with, and who'd decided to embrace the human life he'd found himself in, adopting his (previously abusive jerkwad) vessel's family as his own. Abner had been HAPPY with his life, and yet to save his own reputation, and without questioning Metatron's order, Gadreel killed him.

Crowley also played a role in this, using his NSA-infiltrated demon to track the stolen Impala. Crowley praised her for also playing ball with Abaddon (and later Abaddon would kill her for admitting she was also helping Crowley... two very different ruling styles...), and then they'd have to move from Plan A (torturing Gadreel with the Angel Brainwashing Halo Thingie) to Plan B (crowley possessing Sam to convince him to evict Gadreel from the inside).

Gadreel gone back to his previous vessel, Sam feels justifiably violated by his possessions.

Sam: What do you want me to say? I’m pissed? Okay I am, I’m pissed. You lied to me - again. Dean: I didn't have a choice. Sam: I was ready to die Dean. Dean: I know. But I wouldn't let you, because that’s not in me. Sam: So what, you decide to trick me into being possessed by some...psycho angel? Dean: He saved your life. Sam: So what. I was willing to die. And now...Kevin. Dean: No, that is not on you. Kevin’s blood is on my hands. And that ain’t ever getting clean. I’ll burn for that. I will. But I’ll find Gadreel and I will end that son of a bitch. But I’ll do it alone. Sam: What’s that supposed to mean? Dean: Come on man, can’t you see, I’m poison. People get close to me they get killed, or worse. I tell myself I help more people than I hurt and I tell myself that I’m doing it all for the right reasons and I believe that. But I can’t -- I won’t drag anyone anybody into the muck with me - not anymore. Sam: Go. I’m not going to stop you. But don’t go thinking that’s the problem because it’s not. Dean: What’s that supposed to mean? Sam: Just go.

And we're back to not talking to each other. And there's our final "I didn't have a choice." But there's also the fact that Dean DIDN'T trick Sam into letting an angel possess him. The angel did that all on his own. Asking for Dean's permission was entirely besides the point. It was Sam who had to say yes, and it was Gadreel who assumed Dean's likeness inside Sam's mind, using what he'd learned about Sam during his unattended "examination" while Dean had been talking to Cas and blowing away the other angels attacking the hospital to learn what he'd need to manipulate Sam into saying yes. And it's not like Dean intended to lie, that was Gadreel's condition he'd at first told Dean was to prevent Sam from ejecting him and basically dying on the spot before they could explain the plan to Sam. And then over time, as Dean tried to tell Sam the truth before it got to that point, Gadreel actively prevented him from doing so. It was only then that Dean realized just how screwed he was. ALLLLLL the guilt of everything bad that's resulted from Gadreel possessing Sam to this point, Dean blames all of it on himself-- Cas, Kevin, Sam... all of it. Sam's just... still reeling from his own experience that he's unable to see this yet. Unfortunately, he won't see it for a good long while to come, after it's far too late to save Dean from what the mark will do to him.

And another cycle of manipulation, betrayal, and sacrifice begins. Chuck must've been pretty damn proud of this one... all he had to do was sit back and watch Metatron execute the very Him-like plan for him.

#spn 9.09 #spn 9.10 #s14 hellatus rewatch #it's spirals all the way down #lies and damn lies #i blame metadouche for everything including global warming and bee colony collapse #the scheherazade of supernatural #spiders georg of the tnt loop

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furorem-yandere · 6 years ago

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Happy 100+ followers!

Thanks so much for making me be so lucky! I made this account almost a week or two (edit ok turns out it was early last month but tbh I've been dissacociated from the passage of time for most work days so please ignore that) ago and I never thought I'd accumulate followers so quick and that anyone would enjoy this as much as you all have! Thank you! As promised, here's a second chapter of Personal Centerfold, the yandere!Noir of my first story! Here is part 1.

It was a night like any other when he met her. The new waxing moon was just a sliver of silver in the sky, a few clouds to help the light pollution with hiding the stars and the air was damp and humid from the morning's rain. It was perfect for swinging through the streets.

So that was what Peter Benjamin Parker was doing when he happened upon a robbery. You were giving the robber the good fight, giving him such a stiff, stern glare that Peter himself was impressed.

"You ever kill an unarmed woman, sir?" you ask, fixing him with a disdainful glare.

"Yes," the robber said, unconvincingly. His face was uncovered save for a small black mask. "All the time, broad". He cocks the guns hammer in a threat, hand shaking.

Your eyes flicker to him and a little bit of relief sinks into them before they go back to the robber. Your arms remain crossed. "Really? You don't look much like a killer to me". You walk forward with confidence. "You look like some kid wrapped up in the wrong crowd. How do you think you'll sleep at night knowing you shot a defenseless woman in some alley and left her body in the mud?"

"I- Shut your damn mouth!" he snaps, shaking the gun in your face, a knife in the other. Peter creeps closer overhead, evening his haunches for a jump. "I've done this a million times!"

"Oh?" you say, amusement, backing away so the gun doesn't hit your nose. "Because I think a real seasoned murderer would know..." you look up, catching Peter's eyes. He nods, admiring your bravery. "...That you usually turn the safety off first".

You duck, and he leaps. The robber startled, spinning to him with wide eyes and pulling the trigger. The gun clicked, but no bullet came for him.

Oh, you're good.

He kicks the gun from his hand and webs it to the wall. The knife comes down in a fearful slash. It misses skin, Peter rolling with the jab and grappling the wrist. The kid was smaller up close, probably not even out of high school, when he noticed a gang symbol. New recruit. The kid looked at his hand and dropped the knife. "I- I-" he stumbles, tongue useless.

Pity welled in Peter's throat and he pulled the kid close to his face by the front of his jacket. "Go home, kid," he growls. "Or I'll be back for round two. You don't belong with them".

The kid's jaw drops and after a stunned silence he nods rapidly. "Y- Yes! Yes, yes sir!" he stutters. The second Peter releases him he's gone, booking it like hell was on his heels.

Peter sighs, turning to the dame who had snuck up next to him. "Think he'll be okay?" you wonder aloud and Peter puzzles if it was a question for him or rhetorical.

"Probably. Maybe," he says. "Would you like me to walk you home?"

You flash him an amused smile. "Spider-Man walks?" you ask, tone teasing.

Peter chuckles, rubbing his jaw with his fingers before offering his arm. "Usually it's up walls, but I'll manage".

You chuckle, taking the arm. "Thank you," you say gently. He tips his hat and leads you from the alley. "I didn't think I'd end up behind the eight ball just getting some dinner".

Your hand is warm and Peter's throat is a little tight. You're pretty; distractingly so. "A little late for dinner, isn't it?" he prods, looking down to see a paper bag he hadn't noticed before, too wrapped up in the robbery.

You shrug. "Better late than never; besides I was busy".

"Busy getting robbed, yes, I noticed".

You chuckle. "Smart mouth for a man with chelicera".

"My fangs aren't the sharpest thing about me".

"Oh, now that I'm going to doubt".

Peter barks a laugh. "Quick, aren't you, ma'am?"

"Better quick than dead. Oh, this is me, Mr. Spider," you say with teasing enunciation of the nickname. "Oh- your- did he hit you?"

Peter turned to check his shoulder, a noticeable and large tear at the shoulder in the thick fabric. "Not the skin. He nicked my coat is all. Have a good night, ma'am".

"Wait-!" she says, grabbing him by the sleeve of the unripped shoulder, "I could- I could fix that if you'd like". Her cheeks flush a bit and she releases his sleeve.

Peter feels his own cheeks warm under the mask. "W- Well, I- uh-" he stumbles, grasping for words. "I don't want to be a bother ma'am, I can fix it".

You smile and it's lovely. "It's no trouble at all! That's what I do for a living anyhow. I make clothes," you say gesturing to the building. It's a clothing shop, thief gate layering the windows. "I mean, I do other things to make ends meet but- yeah that was the plan".

Peter looks down to her. "...I don't want to impose..."

You smile and Peter's heart races. Her hands run from his sleeve to tug his leather gloved wrist gently. "Come on, Mr. Spider," you tease with that lovely sparkle of mischief, "Come into my parlor".

That gets a chuckle from him and he finds his feet following you through the doorway and into the dark store. "Isn't that supposed to be my line?"

You shrug. "All of New York is your parlor I'd say". You carefully pull his trench coat from his shoulders and he allows it, tugging at his shirt collar and undoing the tight buttons. "I'll be just a moment," you say, leading him into the back of the store where he finds a small burner, kettle, and mugs on a counter. There's also a work office desk with finance sheets, receipts, and requests on it, and a sewing table by a window with piles of fabrics awaiting their transformation. He finds himself charmed by the normalcy of it all. "Set the kettle on, if you like".

Peter assumes you might have asked because you wanted some, and it was rude to say no to someone's drinks when you were in their house, so he did. You open a small box, thread a needle with black thread and begin to stitch along the cut. You're finished before the kettle whistles. You hand his coat back. "Here, try it on".

He thumbs over the almost completely hidden seam. He does, and it still fits comfortably. "Thank you, ma'am".

You smile. "Not a problem. You help a lot of people, you know," you say gently. "We're all grateful".

Peter's chest burns like the one time he'd tried to smoke in high school and discovered asthma. "Well- well, um-"

"Take care of yourself out there, Spider-Man; won't you?" you say softly, expression earnest. "We- I would- it would be a real shame if you were gone". You stumble over the words awkwardly but Peter's heart flutters at the sentiment in your voice.

Peter nods dumbly and you turn to pour a cup from your now whistling kettle. He's gone before you turn around.

He hovers above your window when you look out, sighing and setting a mug of tea on the banister and holding your own. He watches you, examining your movements. He should go. He should leave.

But something fixated in him on you. Like two gears finally clicked into place, like the cap to a pen that had been thought lost.

He needs to know who you are. He's already seen who you are when people are around; smooth, careful, confident, poised, and a bit of a smart mouth. Who were you though, when people weren't looking?

He wants to find out.

He needs his camera.

#yandere #my writing #spiderman noir x reader #yandere spiderman noir #personal centerfold

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viperbranium · 6 years ago

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a shrunkyclunks meet-cute

Now that the patreon thing is over, I can finally share the reward fics with the rest of you guys. Have the first one, and thanks again to everyone who supported relena and I <333

As Bucky steps into his favorite coffee shop, Becca walking in right after him, he can’t help but let out a miserable whine.

The place is uncharacteristically busy for a Thursday morning, and the line of people standing between him and his very much needed shot of caffeine seems to be at least twice as long as usual.

He usually doesn’t mind waiting, really. The coffee shop is warm and nice, and the wonderful scent of coffee that fills the air is already enough to get his brain synapses going. Normally he wouldn’t be too bothered by having to spend an extra 15 minutes standing there, just relaxing and enjoying the smell and the sounds of the espresso machines as he watches people come and go.

There’s no relaxing around Becca, though. She’s already been rambling nonstop about who-knows-what all the way from Bucky’s apartment, and really, Bucky loves her, okay? It’s not that he doesn’t care about what Becca has to say. But god, he’s NOT a morning person. He needs coffee before he can do the words-putting-into-sentence-doing, and without it to reboot his brain, all the words coming out of Becca’s mouth just sound like gibberish.

So instead of being able to stand there in a half-comatose state until some wonderful barista places a cup of magical liquid productivity in his hands, he’s being forced to try to make sense of actual words like a full-grown, functional adult.

He’s also failing spectacularly.

He swears to god they’ve been here for 10 minutes already and the goddamn line hasn’t gotten any shorter, when he hears Becca say, “There’s a new Captain America ride in Coney Island.”

“Great,” Bucky deadpans. “I’ve wanted to ride him for a while, now.”

At that, the wall of muscle standing in front of them lets out a choked-out noise and shuffles a bit awkwardly on his feet, like he was about to turn around but managed to stop himself at the last moment. Bucky’s definitely not awake enough to ask the dude if he’s got a problem with his sexuality, though, so he just ignores him.

“Gross,” Becca says, scrunching her nose. “If I end up with trauma cause of the mental image, you’re paying for my therapy.”

“It’s a great mental image.” Bucky shrugs.

“It’s Stark’s doing…” Becca informs him, ignoring Bucky’s comment as she continues to scroll through the article. “He must’ve thought building just an Iron Man ride was too narcissistic even for him, so he’s giving every Avenger one. Oh, man, he’s gonna take your place as Cap’s #1 fan, there’s no way you can top this.”

“Not that I wouldn’t if he was down for it, but hey, as long as he can top me, we’re all good.”

The man in front of them discreetly clears his throat at Bucky’s comment, and Bucky’s brow furrows and he has to purse his lips to stop himself from saying something this time.

“Bucky, ew,” Becca scolds him as someone else leaves with their coffee and they all take another step towards the counter. “You’re my brother. I do not want to think about you two having sex every time Captain America’s on the news, thank you very much.”

It takes everything Bucky is not to comment on how he always wants to think about them having sex whenever Captain America is on the news. Instead, he just says, “Hey, you brought him up.”

“Cause you wouldn’t listen to me unless we talked about your crush!”

The sound, somewhere between outraged and embarrassed, escapes Bucky’s lips before he can stop it.

“I don’t have a crush!”

Becca smiled impishly. “Bucky, you have a crush so massive it can probably be seen from the ISS.”

“I’m a grown man,” Bucky grumbles. “I don’t have crushes.” Becca quirks an eyebrow at him like she’s not convinced, so he goes on. “I want him to nail me into the mattress, which is entirely different.”

“Oh, please,” Becca says. “You call him Steve like a nerd.”

God, Bucky’s really starting to regret this conversation.

“It’s his name,” he argues still. He knows Becca’s thoroughly enjoying poking fun at him and that he’s only spurring her on at this point, but dammit, she always seems to know how to get under his skin. The man in front of them seems to be really engrossed in their conversation too, probably taking lots of issues with everything Bucky’s gay ass is saying, and that’s also getting on Bucky’s nerves.

“You do know most people call him Cap, right?” Becca tells him, crossing her arms and smirking like she just won something.

Bucky lets out a groan and pinches the bridge of his nose. He’s not even sure how the conversation got to this point anymore, but this has got to be the dumbest argument he’s ever had the misfortune to find himself involved in.

“Look, he’s a person, not a military rank. And can we please just drop this?” He tells her.

“Wait!” Becca says excitedly as she grabs Bucky’s arm. Whatever she just thought of, Bucky knows it can’t be good. “Didn’t you write a paper about him in college?”

“Oh god,” Bucky practically whines. He’s more than ready to forgo coffee at this point and just bolt. To turn around and leave before someone recognizes him. But it’s already the turn of the man in front of them, so instead he just turns to face Becca and shoots her his best pleading expression. “Please, shut up,” he begs.

Becca is merciless, though.

““The Phenomenon of Captain America as a queer icon and the widespread reluctance to recognize him as such: How Captain America shaped the modern image of masculinity, and his impact on the generations growing up during the post-war era in the US”,” She recites. Bucky can’t even believe she remembers, the asshole.

“Becca, please! I come here every morning!” And it’s already hard enough to try to pretend his interest is only casual and not borderline obsessive as it is, god fucking dammit.

Rebecca’s laughing in earnest now. Tears-in-her-eyes, hands-around-her-belly laughing. If Bucky didn’t love her so fucking much, god only knows why, he’d probably strangle her or something.

He’s about to say as much when, all of a sudden, Becca stops.

She’s staring right past Bucky at the now one-man line in front of them, a bit wide-eyed and with a hint of red coloring her cheeks. Bucky follows her gaze, and before he can even ask what’s wrong, he damn near chokes.

Because it turns out the guy Bucky totally assumed was some old dude, based mostly on the khakis and the old-fashioned hairstyle, is actually Steve fucking Rogers himself.

Yep. Bucky just spent the past 20 minutes standing right behind Captain America and repeatedly stating how damn much he wants the guy to fuck him til he can’t walk. Why can’t the ground just open up and swallow him whole when he needs it?

For a few moments, Steve Rogers just stares at him, standing there in all his 6’2” and 240 lbs of 100% American beefcake glory, freshly made cup of coffee forgotten in his hand and the deepest blush Bucky’s ever seen creeping up his neck. It contrasts nicely with Bucky’s own skin, which has completely drained of all color.

Since he’s apparently managed to shock Captain America so much with his raunchy comments that he’s frozen in place, Bucky should probably use this chance to either apologize or bolt, but his own brain keeps refusing to reboot. Then Steve Rogers is clearing his throat and taking a small step forward, and fuck, Bucky’s so, so, soooo dead.

Except Steve Rogers doesn’t look offended in the slightest.

Steve Rogers looks thoroughly embarrassed, yes –and in any other situation Bucky would definitely be focusing on how damn gorgeous he looks with his cheeks flushed that lovely shade of red—, but Bucky could swear it’s also amusement that he’s seeing in those piercing blue eyes.

Steve Rogers stops right in front of Bucky--the corner of his mouth turned slightly upwards and those eyelashes threatening to turn Bucky’s legs into jelly--, holds his hand right up to Bucky’s head, and says, “You must be this tall to ride.”

And then he just… leaves.

Bucky can hear Becca, standing half a step behind him, whispering, “What the fuck!?”, but it’s not until the barista’s trying to get his attention and asking him if he’s going to order, that he manages to kick his brain back into action.

Well. Holy fucking shit.

He almost doesn’t return to the coffee shop.

Not because he thinks anyone else besides Becca and STEVE ROGERS witnessed how he made a total fool of himself, or how Captain America, in an unprecedented act of diplomacy considering his history of telling men in charge to go fuck themselves, only teased him a bit for it instead of knocking him flat on his ass. No.

He almost doesn’t return because he’s too fucking ashamed of himself and of the whole thing, and being here where everything took place is only going to help his asshole brain provide him with a full HD rerun of the whole incident. Ugh.

In the end he figures not coming isn’t gonna make him any less mortified, though, and the place does make the best coffee in the area, by far.

Trying his damnedest not to blush and pointedly staring at nothing but his own feet --just in case he was wrong about the no other witnesses thing-- he walks into the coffee shop and heads straight for the counter… only to be stopped by a soft, “Hey!” and a gentle hand tapping on his shoulder.

When he turns, he finds himself once again standing face-to-face with Steven Grant Rogers.

Who’s not sporting quite the same shade of crimson he was yesterday, but still has a beautiful hint of a blush going on, and whose smile is so warm and inviting it makes Bucky’s skin tingle.

Or it would, if the urge to run in the opposite direction and go hide under a rock wasn’t so damn strong.

There’s an awkward moment of silence as Bucky just stands there shell-shocked, staring at him like he hadn’t already embarrassed himself enough, before Steve says, "So, I'm Steve, but I guess you know that already..."

“Yeah, I--” he tries, fumbling for words, but Bucky’s mouth still seems to be refusing to catch up with his brain.

Steve smiles a bit more, seemingly amused. “And you are?” he prompts.

That seems to do the trick. It takes a bit of stumbling over words, but Bucky at last manages to get the words flowing… and then they just won’t stop. “Ja-James. Bucky! I’m Bucky. I mean I’m James but everyone calls me-- oh god I’m so sorry about yesterday, I didn’t know you were-- And my sister wouldn’t shut up, and oh my god, you heard about the paper, that must’ve been so weird, I’m so fucki--ah. I’m so very sorry, I’m--”

“You can say “fucking”!” Steve cuts him off, not unkindly, and laughs “And you don’t have to apologize. Bucky, right?” he asks, holding his hand out for Bucky to shake. Bucky nods, and promptly does so. “It’s nice to meet you, Bucky.”

“I wrote that essay before you were thawed,” Bucky still feels the need to clarify. “I wouldn’t’ve… it must feel so weird to have historians everywhere speculating about your life, I really am sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Steve reassures him, and then blushes a bit before adding, “I, um… I read it. Your paper, I read it last night.”

“You what!?”

Steve shrugs. “The title was intriguing, and... you were surprisingly accurate.”

And god, okay. Bucky really needs to sit down right the fuck now, because Steve Rogers, Captain fucking America, did NOT just say he had read Bucky’s stupid paper, a paper in which Bucky had talked at length about all the ways in which America’s Golden Boy was as rampantly queer as a sparkly unicorn, and said that it had been accurate.

“So, um…” Steve starts when Bucky does nothing but gape at him for 2 whole minutes. “You mentioned coming here every morning, so I thought…” He moves aside a bit and gestures to the table behind him, and to the two cups of coffee placed on it. “Have coffee with me?”

Bucky has to blink three times before he’s convinced this is really happening, and he still wouldn’t scratch the possibility of Steve having kicked his ass so badly the day before that he’s now hallucinating off the list. “You want to have coffee with me? After everything I said?”

Steve smiles again, and Bucky swears to god, every time he does it gets a bit warmer in here. “I want you have coffee with you,” he confirms. “Because of everything you said. I liked it. That thing about the rank in particular, but everything else too. So yeah, I’d like to have coffee with you, and discuss some of the things you mentioned in your paper a bit more, if you’re down for it? Then we can see about the riding thing, maybe,” he finished with a smirk, those gorgeous blue eyes of his crinkling playfully.

Well, hell yeah Bucky was down for it.

#Stucky #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #shrunkyclunks #reward fics #veewrites #i've been thinking about writing this fic since I saw the actual news about that Captain America ride they were gonna open somewhere lmao #i'm 100% bucky in this scenario tbh #also i super fucking want to read bucky's essay too #alkfjghflhfghlk #lmao #<3 #there's a read more cut in case you're on the app.... idk if those are still glitchy on mobile so I figured i'd warn #one day these will all be up on ao3.... hopefully soon.... when i'm inspired enough to come up with all the titles and summaries and all #*tired sigh*

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duhragonball · 6 years ago

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Dragon Ball Z 019

Not a hoax, not a dream, not an alternate reality! Goku finally meets King Kai in this episode.

Yeah, I’d be surprised too, if I were Goku.

When Goku first got here, he thought the monkey was King Kai, but no, it’s just King Kai’s pet Bubbles. Bubbles, of course, was named after Michael Jackson’s pet chimpanzee. I looked him up and apparently he’s still alive, although Jackson had to turn him over to an animal sanctuary in 2003 because he was getting to big and strong to keep as a pet. I never knew this before. I had heard of chimp owners getting viciously attacked and losing fingers, eyes, and faces, but I didn’t understand how it ever got to that point. Apparently the chimpanzees that everyone thinks are cute are just young chimpanzees. The adults are much bigger and more aggressive, to the point where humans just can’t control them. At least in the case of Bubbles (the real-world chimp, I mean), it took twenty years for him to get to that point.

Maybe that’s why people think they can keep them as pets in the first place. They don’t realize that chimpanzees have such long lifespans. A cat or a dog might die of old age before getting anywhere close to 20, but a chimpanzee is just reaching adulthood. That’s nuts. I’m 42. If I adopted a baby chimpanzee right now, I’d be in my 60′s right around the time he’s old enough to dismember me and anyone else who tried to come to my aid. That’s just insane. No one needs to be doing that, I don’t care who you are. I’ll bet you a dollar MJ probably waited too long to give up Bubbles, too. It’s probably more like fifteen years and then you’re in moral peril.

Like, big cats, that’s another stupid thing. On paper, they pretty much act like house cats, maybe. Even if that were true 100% of the time, they’re still huge. A house cat will claw you for no good reason. They’re assholes, but we keep them as pets because they’re small enough that they’re not dangerous. If a lion got a little overeager at playtime, he’d probably disembowel you and not even realize he’d done it. Oh he might feel real sad about it afterward, but you’re still dead. I’ve encountered enough sketchy dogs in my lifetime that I wouldn’t want to mess around with anything bigger and less domesticated.

You know what? Horses are kind of bullshit too. People act like they’re totally fine and you can sit on top of one and nothing’ll happen, but that’s insane. Christopher Reeve knew what he was doing and look what happened to him. Forget riding them, I don’t trust their giant teeth. People hold food up to their mouths like it’s no big deal, but I bet a horse could bite your finger off and not even care. You get stitches and have to re-learn how to hold a pen, and Mr. Ed probably gets put out to stud because “You just didn’t handle him right,” or whatever. No. Not me, pal. I don’t hate horses. They’re beautiful animals. Steel Ball Run was great. I just don’t want to be anywhere near one, for the same reason I don’t want to be anywhere near a minefield.

Sorry, I got off on a tangent. My point is that Michael Jackson took Bubbles to Japan for a world tour in 1987, and Wikipedia says Bubbles drank tea with the mayor of Osaka, so I’m betting that had something to do with King Kai’s pet monkey. But I trust King Kai to have a pet monkey, because he’s super strong and Bubbles seems pretty chill.

Where was I? Oh, right, King Kai’s super into puns, which seems to be a stable of Japanese humor, probably because there’s so many homonyms in the language. None of this translates very well into English, which is why the subtitles rely on rhymes instead of puns, or just really, really bad puns. The Funimation Dub just fell back on corny jokes, like “What’s the difference between a jailer and a jeweler?” There’s puns incorporated into the jokes, but from what I can tell the Japanese version is strictly into wordplays without setups or punchlines.

Goku has to fake laugh a lot around King Kai, because he threatens to not train him unless he has a sense of humor. This is why puns suck, by the way. Used sparingly, and with great care, they can be very funny, but too many people try to use brute force in place of comedic timing. “Hey, baby, do you have 11 protons? Because you’re sodium fine?” The words “sodium” and “so damn” sound almost nothing alike, but they share exactly four letters, so someone decided it barely qualifies as a wordplay, but we all know that it really doesn’t. The “joke” is actually that it’s not a very good joke at all, since the setup takes forever to execute, and it telegraphs the punchline, which requires a lot of mental gymnastics to even interpret as a punchline. It doesn’t provoke laughter so much as a feeling of “Oh, I guess that is vaguely a word play, so it’s mildly clever.” The real satisfaction of telling this is to irritate people. You can either laugh at the joke and pretend it’s funny, or you can no-sell the joke and everyone gets a tickle out of how “humorless” you are, when no, it’s the joke’s fault for not being funny.

What makes King Kai a funny character is that he’s the gag. Humor is about reversing expectations, like when you read an anime liveblog and the guy starts ranting about how you can’t trust horses. Goku was sent to train under this guy because he’s like the god of all the Kamis on every planet in the universe. He’s supposed to be the best possible instructor there is. Then Goku runs all this way to meet him and all he wants to do is talk about puns. He sounds exactly like the narrator (or, if you’re watching it in English, he sounds like Goku doing a funny voice, which is also kind of freaky when you think about it.)

But the biggest punchline is that he’s not even that powerful. Oh, he’s stronger than Goku, sure, but the Saiyans heading for Earth are still stronger, so Goku will have to surpass King Kai just to stand a chance. And it took Goku over six months just to get here. He’s got 158 days to close the gap, and he just wasted ten minutes on a free comedy lesson. The world is going to end. But not yet. One sells watches, the other watches cells.

First thing’s first, Goku needs to get acclimated to the intense gravity of King Kai’s planet. As small as the planet is, the gravity is ten times that of Earth, which is why Goku is having such a hard time moving around. But the other Saiyans all grew up on a planet with the same gravity, so it’s just as well that he get used to this now. King Kai tells him to chase Bubbles around until he can catch him, and once he pulls that off, he’ll be ready to train in earnest.

Goku struggles at first, but then he remembers to take off his weighted training clothes to make things easier. He wasn’t even wearing those when he died, so it’s kind of weird that he got to keep them.

Goku also asks for a meal, since he hasn’t eaten since Princess Snake’s place. King Kai finds it unusual that a dead man would be hungry, which sort of makes me wonder about all the other Saiyans who have died. Do they hunger, even without their bodies? Best not to think about it.

King Kai tells him to put his weighted gear back on, since it’ll make the training more effective. Goku isn’t keen on that idea, but King Kai explains to him how dangerous the Saiyans are, and how he’ll need to do whatever it takes to defeat them.

But Goku’s not worried because he’s a Saiyan himself. That... hasn’t exactly helped him so far, but I like his confidence.

Meanwhile, back on Earth, Piccolo is still training Gohan. Gohan finally manages to score a blow on Piccolo, so I wanted to make note of it here. Good hustle, Son.

BEST GREEN DAD

BEST GREEN UNCLE DAD

BEST GREEN DAD

In spite of Piccolo threatening to murder his father, Gohan tells him that Goku always used to say that the current Piccolo isn’t as bad a guy as the previous King Piccolo. Gohan agrees with that sentiment.

So Piccolo gets all tsundere on him. “I’m totally gonna kill your dad, b-baka!”

Back on King Kai’s planet, Goku indeed manages to catch Bubbles. Even with the weighted training clothes on. Good hustle, Son.

King Kai is impressed. To overcome the gravity in just one day is remarkable in itself.

He even entertains the hope that Goku might be able to master the Kaio-ken technique. But those beads of sweat on his head suggest that we’re a long way from a guarantee.

#dragon ball #2019dbliveblog #king kai #bubbles #goku #gohan #piccolo #dragon ball z #saiyans saga

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chibinightowl · 6 years ago

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@foxesrefuge So here comes my prompt: JayTim sparring session!! w lots and lots of body contact and sexual tension between them and a somewhat shy/ embarrassed Tim bc he has a crush on Jason, always trying to play it off, tho... and Jason.. well, he is a very teasing little shit (as he always is) and finds out about Tim’s attraction while sparring lol (idk maybe not, the end is up to u. It can have a happy end, can also end w a cliffhanger haha well it’s really up to u!!) Don’t know if it’s something you’ve already written or if it’s something u don’t like at all but dang you’re one of the BEST writers around and I’m just happy to read ANYTHING you write !! Always spot on and such a real bliss !!!

~*~*~

Thanks for the prompt! I wish this turned out better, but guess who is horrible at writing fight scenes? >__> Still, I think this turned out rather well in the end, so I hope you enjoy it!

~*~*~

After the fourth time Jason pinned Tim to the mats using nothing but his thighs to hold him down, Tim finally keyed in to the fact that he was up to something. That asshole was messing with him. Not that he was complaining at all, because being trapped between those thighs has been a fantasy of his for far too long, but never once has a word about that passed his lips.

Well, there was that one time when Tim was drunk, and he was fairly sure he may have said something to Kon, but no one else was around to hear him wax poetic over Jason’s thighs and his stupidly handsome face and how he wanted to lick every inch of him.

Kon wouldn’t betray him like that. He wouldn’t. It went against the very tenants of the bro-code.

But this? Jason had his long legs wrapped around his torso and his head was cradled in between two gloriously muscled thighs. If Tim was facing the other direction, he’d be face to face with Jason’s crotch. He wanted to whine over how close he was to a dream come true. Instead, he closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing, trying to will away the budding interest in his own shorts that would shortly betray him if he wasn’t careful.

“You still alive down there?” Jason asked, a teasing lilt to his deep voice. “Or are you relearning how to breathe?”

Tim rolled his eyes and slapped the mat. “I yield. Now let me up, you overgrown ox.” This was a strategic retreat. Really.

Jason gave him an extra squeeze and released him, rolling to the side to give Tim a chance to reorient himself.

Goddammit, that had been close. Tim sucked in another deep breath and stood up, assuming a new defensive stance while he waited for Jason to attack.

“Again?” Jason asked, shaking his head incredulously. “Glutton for punishment today, aren’t ya?”

“How else am I supposed to learn this new move if I don’t practice it?”

“Seems to me all you’re doing is getting acquainted with the floor, but whatever. It’s your funeral.” Jason smirked at his bad joke and rushed forward, planting one powerful leg on the mat and using the momentum to pivot and snap his other leg around to complete the kick.

Tim ducked under it and rolled just in time to miss the follow through with the other leg. For someone so huge, Jason was surprisingly quick and flexible. The fight was on in earnest again, blow meeting blow as they grappled their way across the mats. Neither gave quarter and Tim held his own against Jason longer than the other man probably expected. This was one of those times where his shorter build came in handy because he was better able to center and ground himself against the bigger powerhouse.

In the end, it was the very obvious grope against the cheeks of his ass that had Tim losing his focus. He floundered, gaping at his sparring partner, and found himself landing face first into the mat, once again with Jason’s heavy body pinning him down.

“What? What was that?” Tim gasped out, slapping the mat to signal his yield. The touch had been so unexpected and so out of character that it was small wonder he’d lost his concentration.

Jason didn’t move. If anything, he readjusted himself and settled more comfortably into the planes of Tim’s body.

Tim felt the heat rushing to his face as he realized just what was now nestled against the curve of his bottom, something that was growing harder the longer it stayed there.

“Are we done playing this little game, Pretender? Don’t try and lie to me. You’ve been fighting a boner since we walked onto this mat.”

At the moment, Tim was thanking his lucky stars that they were at his place rather than the Batcave. Then again, this was probably why Jason was doing it in the first place since he knew how much privacy meant to him. Here in Tim’s own workout room, it was just the two of them.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tim tried, but Jason rocked his hips, the slide of his hardening length pressing even more firmly against him.

There was no mistaking the trembling moan that escaped Tim’s mouth for anything other than what it was. Need. Need for the man who was now chuckling darkly into Tim’s ear and making his insides churn and twist with desire.

“Try again, Tim. Tell me you’re not hard as a rock right now.”

That would be a complete and utter lie. Tim was sure he’d never been this hard in all his life. “I…I…” He couldn’t get the words out as Jason teasingly thrusted against him a second time.

“Tell me what you want, Timmers. In case you hadn’t noticed, there’s very little I’m gonna say no to at the moment.”

Holy crap. Lights exploded behind Tim’s eyes as his big brain finally made the connection that had been eluding him. Jason wanted him. Maybe not as much as he wanted him, but still. Tim grinned into the mat and purposefully arched his back, rubbing the smooth fabric of his gym shorts against the now solid cock behind him.

“I want you to fuck me, Jason. Right here, right now.”

Jason ran his tongue over the outside of Tim’s ear, sending a shiver down his spine. “Now was that so hard to admit?” he growled in a low voice, his hands tugging at their clothes.

“Yes,” Tim bit back and ground harder against Jason. “But what I really want to know is how you knew in the first place.”

Calloused hands ran up the back of Tim’s bare thighs, tickling the skin and brushing under the hem to explore higher. “A big bird of the Super variety. I don’t know how he knew I was interested in ya, but he said he was 100% certain you were too.”

Kon was a dead man. Hours will be spent plotting his demise, but right now, thinking was overrated because those were Jason’s hands guiding Tim up onto his knees and peeling off his shorts and underwear. Those were Jason’s fingers gripping the round globes of his ass and spreading them apart. That was Jason’s breath growing warmer and warmer against his skin as he leaned in.

Tim keened as he felt Jason’s mouth close around him, thoughts scattering to the four corners of the globe. Sex first, revenge plots later.

#chibinightowl writes #Tim Drake #Jason Todd #JayTim #nsfw-ish #short oneshot #500 followers prompt

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hencethebravery · 6 years ago

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The CC gods have spoken: ‟Alana, you will write at least one more AU for those beautiful, beautiful boys. And it will be about this dumb text post. Forever and ever, Amen.”

“Oh, P.S., make it punk. Thanks, bye.”

+ In the end, he’d chosen the place because to be quite bloody honest it was precisely where you might expect the writer of an obscure indie mag to live. It was an older building (a suitably generous designation), tucked in between the modernist monstrosities of the last 20 or 30 years. Replete with gorgeous, if not ill-kept, accoutrements framing the windows; crumbling steps and a brick exterior in varying shades of red and orange. The aesthetic was rounded out by the kind of neglectful landlord you might expect, a horrid man who frequently enjoyed reminding his tenants that he lived, “out of state,” and they’d have to, “be patient.”

Upon entering you might care to notice that the wallpaper on either side of the staircase seemed to be in a rather unattractive state of damp self-removal; pale, curling pieces that revealed older colors beneath. And then there was the staircase itself, with jade colored steps (in desperate need of a good shine) and an iron railing topped with ancient wood. In a word: resplendent. Inarguably a fine, if lonely, remnant of another age in a city that couldn’t help but move so brutally forward.

He complains about the place often enough, and if he really, really wanted to, he could probably afford to move, but as Jasmine so haughtily observed, why would he want to go and, quote, “ruin his brand like that?”

There was also the matter of the large, smiley handsome fellow that must have lived somewhere in the building, or with his luck, was dating someone in the building.

“Making brief, meaningless eye contact with some nameless man you happen to see in your building from time to time is no reason to freeze to death,” Jasmine had quite rightly reminded him, taking a drag of his cigarette. “You’re a well-respected, well-read journalist in Manhattan. Get a new apartment, Jones.”

Which, sure, she’s got a point, but there’s also the matter of the way the sun shines into his bedroom in the afternoons. The strange, sloping ceilings that he can’t seem to get a read on; the strong, mouth-watering smell of curry and cardamom that breathes through the vents and into his living room. The point is, it’s home, handsome man or no, so when he finally manages to exchange more than a nod with the “nameless man,” his vicious defense of the place only increases.

“The man was so drunk he couldn’t even tell you what apartment he lived in.”

“I’ll thank you to let me have my victories, love.”

It’s a little after 2 AM on a Tuesday in the middle of a particularly merciless February—it’s part of the reason why it’s so strange to see someone else awake, let alone such a broad, smile-prone man that seems to smell of woodsmoke and aftershave. He also appeared to be dead asleep as Killian had attempted the somewhat ill-begotten task of opening his door in subzero temperatures (a fool’s errand, to be sure).

“Buggering fu—” he had begun to mutter beneath his breath, keys jangling against one another between the cold, stiff fingers of his hand when he suddenly heard the gruff, slurred voice at his back.

“This ... fun,” he giggled, looking somewhere over Killian’s shoulder for a moment before finally landing on Killian himself.

“Sorry?”

“This is fun!” he answered, his voice suddenly an octave or two higher, though still sounding as if he had smoked one two many cigarettes that evening.

Having decided that amusing the handsome, fucked up man would be more fun than struggling with his door for another 20 minutes, he decided to engage, clearing this throat before finally replying, “What would that be?”

“Bein’ locked out together,” he managed to say, curling his arms a bit tighter around his torso, “we should hangout more.”

Too accustomed to dealing with the drunken individual that has chosen to use their drunkenness as an excuse to be a miserable bastard, the remark itself is unexpectedly charming, and Killian had to wonder how a man with such a face, hair, and arms, could possibly also be quite so friendly at less than 100% brain capacity.

“Yes, well,” Killian finally managed, “I’m quite... busy...?”

“Nice one.”

“I thought it was charming,” David insists, tugging him closer.

“That’s sweet, but I very much doubt you even remember that part of our conversation.”

“Jus’ give it a kick,” he continued, as if Killian hadn’t spoken, “usually works with mine.”

While Killian had developed somewhat of a reputation for, uh... “impassioned manifestations of physicality,” per the press release from his editor, it had been a day and a half since he’d been the kind of person to kick in a door, whether that be in anger or for practical purposes, and he hesitated for a brief moment before considering his far shorter, slimmer, and somewhat homeless look before taking a step back and slamming his combat-booted foot into the blasted thing.

It was to his immediate displeasure to discover that the door remained firmly shut; that his foot ached, and that he had just made a very loud, horrifying noise at 2 in the morning in a building made of walls as thin as tissue paper.

“Shit,” he mumbled, rotating his ankle briefly before turning to face a rather gob-smacked, slightly more sober man.

“That, was, uh—wow.”

“I just didn’t understand how so much power could exist in such a small man.”

“Excuse me—” Killian blushing and protesting over Jasmine’s inelegant snorting, “I am perfectly—”

“Yes, yes, we know, dear.”

Which was precisely when Robin from the down hall had poked his head out his door, hair askew and looking undeniably inconvenienced, “What in the hell are you two idiots doing out here so bloody early?”

“This guy’s got a strong kick,” handsome, drunk stairwell man had answered, attempting to point and failing, “...and I lost my keys at the bar.”

Robin had rolled his eyes before disappearing into his apartment and re-emerging a few moments later with a few pins, muttering and swearing the entire time, tip-toeing across the cold floor in an attempt to spare himself the discomfort.

“Thanks, mate,” Killian whispered as he watched his friend work, “I’ll talk to Gold about the lock soon.”

“It’s fine,” Robin answered, “it’s not as if the man will ever do anything about it.”

He glanced over his shoulder briefly before shooting a look at Killian and remarking quietly, “I see you two have finally met.”

“Not really,” Killian shrugged, scratching at the tip of his reddened ear, “I—”

“David,” Robin exclaimed, a bit more loudly than warranted, turning round to watch David’s eyes pop open, “this is Killian. Killian, David. Now, up you get Dave.”

Killian offered a weak wave, watching, with an unexpected feeling of melancholy, as Robin pulled David to his feet and walked him up the stairs.

“Nice to meet you, Killian,” he heard David shout down the steps, “good moves!”

They began to run into one another far more frequently after that, and not just in their building, but at the bodega down the street, or the coffee shop around the corner.

“Funny seeing you here,” David would laugh, plopping down across from him, drink or danish in hand.

“We live in the same apartment building,” Killian would answer, only sparing a brief glance upwards from his laptop, as both men tried and failed to hide their grins.

Killian had later learned that David had been immeasurably embarrassed by his conduct in the stairwell, and that, despite appearances, “never gets that drunk,” only he had finally completed his degree in veterinary science and had often been told he needed to “loosen up.”

“It’s really alright, mate,” Killian had reassured him, surprised at the surge of desperation that occurred in rushing to insist that he had done nothing wrong and that, honestly, it was quite amusing.

“Still, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” he had said in a moment of almost painful earnestness, “I never wanna be one of those people.”

“You weren’t,” Killian answered quickly, the tip of his boot only barely brushing David’s sneaker beneath the table, “trust me. I’ve dealt with worse.”

“My little anarchist.”

“You both think you’re so bloody funny.”

“Yes,” the two of them answering simultaneously, dissolving into laughter at the sight of the “stern” look on Killian’s face.

“So, what is it that you actually write?”

They had been friends for a few months before David had finally started asking Killian about his work in greater detail, and looking back, Killian would recall feeling a bit anxious at David’s apparent lack of interest in his career.

“My mother was a writer,” he explained, “ she was a bit shy about it. I didn’t know if it was something you really wanted me to ask.”

Which was when all of Killian’s anxiety had vanished in a flood of appreciation. And really, why were the man’s eyes so blue?

Killian had started writing for OH, FURY when he had first moved to the city in his early 20s—it had barely had a readership then, which was probably why they had agreed to pay him for his self-righteous drivel. First per submission, and then, eventually, as a full-time staff writer who happened to be good at being incendiary and wicked on Twitter.

“I do articles about the punk scene mostly,” Killian started, “which inevitably leads to the occasional social commentary.”

Solo female artists covered in tattoos, screaming until their voices have grown hoarse; bands made entirely of LGBTQ+ musicians—grass roots organizers, local politicians, really, the possibilities were somewhat endless. He loved it.

“And here I was thinking that music and politics were two different things,” Dave had responded somewhat sheepishly.

“Oh, Dave,” Killian had grinned, his gaze falling to the flannel-armored, rosy-cheeked man before him, “I have so much to show you.”

They had kissed for the first time in the middle of an amped, sweaty crowd; beneath dim lights and with the feeling of a bass guitar pounding rhythmically in their chests.

“Alright, stop,” Jasmine interrupts, her eyes suspiciously bright.

“Jasmine, love, are you... crying?” Killian asked incredulously, a chuckle on the tip of his tongue.

“Of course not,” she answered, sniffling, “I just want to make sure I have all the details right for my speech.”

And so it was, much in the same way the city around them seemed to move at such a damnably fast pace, so too did the two of them, having been halfway to love before the band had struck their first chord.

“I’m gonna miss this beautiful garbage dump,” David remarked, the both of them standing hand-in-hand on the sidewalk on a cold night that felt, somehow, familiar.

“Quite right,” Killian agreed, turning to admire David’s profile in the light of the lamp above their heads, “without providing such poor quality of life, we never would have met.”

“I don’t know about that. I was working up the nerve.”

“Sure you were, love,” Killian laughed, tugging on his soon-to-be husband’s hand. “Let’s go home.”

#ouat ff #cc ff #cc fanfic #captain charming #cc: saved my life #@hencethewriter #holy shit.#i did it.

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