#it was a little difficult but i think i pulled it off :)

[mullermilkshake]

I’ll look after you, second

Part 4 <- Part 5 -> Part 6

Things are tense, but you come up with a solution.

Yandere!Jinwoo Sung x Fem Hunter!reader Tags - Smut, Car sex, Vaginal Sex, p in v sex, quickie, unprotected sex, creampie, trying for a baby, breeding, possessive thoughts, mentions of infertility, strained pressure in a relationship, Jinwoo just wants a family with you

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Jinwoo never got a chance to fuck you before the association dinner, you trudged off towards the bedroom and slammed the door shut for a whole hour before emerging in a dress that took his breath away.

It was evident that you’d been crying and for the first time, Jinwoo was unsure how to approach you.

Besides making his feelings partly known that first night, there’d been too much emphasis from the association that you and he never fully had that chance to explore each other emotionally.

You were well aware of Jinwoo’s thoughts towards you, yet you never acted on them, not unless it was in the bedroom. You cooed all sorts of little sweet nothings into his ear, and only then did you make him think you felt that way. As soon as he came and you were finished, it all stopped.

He craved more than just a facade. More than just a show for the association. He wanted you to want him too. He had already killed for you to ensure you slept next to him at night, that you uttered his name with pleasure and ensured he was the first and last person you saw in the morning and before bed.

So why was everything falling apart and becoming so difficult?

Jinwoo wasn’t sure, he wanted to get to the bottom of it, so he thought of the most logical way and just asked on the drive to the restaurant. “So… I know things have been difficult. I wanted to let you know that I appreciate everything you’re doing.”

“You do?”

“I do. It’s not easy and I can’t imagine how awkward things are for you…” He started soft and respectful for now. “We’re in this together and I want you to know that just because the association wants to turn their backs on us in a month, it doesn’t mean I will.”

You were silent for a while, looking over at Jinwoo in the car every so often from his periphery, he could tell that you were conflicted. Each time you opened your mouth to speak, you stopped yourself until he looked over at you behind a red traffic light.

“I guess we haven’t really had time to find more about each other, huh?” You looked down at your laced fingers nestled neatly on your lap. “I guess this whole thing has thrown me a little.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“It’s just… If I’m less involved with you, Jinwoo, then I won’t get attached. And the pressure of all these negative tests is stressing me out- I want to get to know you better, but Jin-chul said it himself, in a month they’ll split us up, so what’s the point?”

What’s the point? The point is everything, it’s the very essence of this programme, the point is to get to know each other and make a baby. When Jinwoo eventually got you pregnant, because he wouldn’t ever give up, he wanted to be a family. That was his main goal.

He didn’t want some other woman’s child, he wanted yours. 

“There’s a point, but that’s probably a contributing factor to why nothing’s happened yet… Y’know, the whole ‘why bother if it isn’t going to work’, I think we need to reevaluate our stance on this.”

“So… this is all my fault?”

“No, no, no, I never said that.” Well, in honesty, it was. But how could he tell you that when you looked so hurt as he pulled up in the darkened parking lot, right by the streetlamp with the busted light. “All I’m saying is that it’s a cycle, and we’re stuck in it, so let’s pull ourselves out of it, okay?”

“So what are you suggesting exactly, Jinwoo?”

He had one idea, and that was to fuck you senseless in the car right now, but he went with the secondary option instead. “Why don’t we go on a real date and see how you feel then?”

When you turned to him, pulling off your seatbelt in the most adorable way, Jinwoo saw the cogs turning. “You want that?”

“I told you how I felt about you, remember? This is more than just an agreement to me, and it can be for you if you let it. But it’s your decision to make.” 

Making it sound like your choice made it easier for your brain to comprehend someone else making decisions for you without even realising. Eventually, Jinwoo would coerce you into picking every option he chose, darting around the wrong ones like a river around a rock.

The right choices were the ones involving Jinwoo.

“I don’t-” You didn’t flinch, not at Jinwoo’s touch to brush a hair from your face. “I don’t know what I want.”

“I can show you a few options. If that’s what you want?” Jinwoo’s touch never let up, his thumb traced your bottom lip, his eyes watching you softly under the interior light. “I want you to be comfortable and look forward to being with me, not dreading it.”

You swallowed deeply, biting your bottom lip and contemplating your life choices. “Why do you- how am I good enough to-”

Jinwoo kissed you, it was the only way to show you instead of spilling pointless words for you to deny. Actions spoke louder than words and it was about time you saw that. The kiss was quick and sweet, firm enough to mean business but shallow enough to stop you bolting.

And when you kissed him back, it was a sealed moment in the relationship. Not once outside of the bedroom had you kissed or even spoken about Jinwoo’s feelings about you since the beginning. He hoped once Hae-in fell pregnant, you’d stop with the barrage of guilt for sitting on Jinwoo’s cock in Hae-in's place. She was pregnant now and it was about time you were.

It was probably the reason Jinwoo was caught off guard when you pawed at his suit jacket, becoming more feverish and passionate so quickly, going as far as to turn the interior light off.

“What do you need?” He managed to get in between touches, heated exchanges in the passenger side after you slipped your stilettos off.

“Want you to- I need you to fuck me.” You were already hiking your dress up.

To fuck here, in the parking lot when the resturant was maybe fifty metres away, the association table most probably already collecting with hunters and you wanted to fuck?

Jinwoo was already at half mast just from your kiss and here you were, about to slip your underwear off.

“Leave them on-” Jinwoo launched his driver's seat back as far as it could possibly go and took a hold of your waist, pulling you on top of him as close as he could.

He gripped your hips and weighed you down over his growing erection until you ground on him instinctively. You were beautiful, breasts stuffed into your dress jittering perfectly with each stolen breath to make the car windows steam.

“What’s caused this?” Jinwoo wasn’t sure why he asked, but he did.

“I-I don’t know, I just need you right now.”  It was good enough for him, you caused friction over his suit pants that drove him wild.

Jinwoo chuckled, shoving his face against your chest and trying his damndest to keep his composure. He couldn’t ruin you, not right here before the dinner, but he could leave you with a present. He pulled your dress up further, past your waist and admired your body begging for his touch, each kiss was electric, every touch a lit fire under his skin. You were coming round to this idea eventually, the only thing getting in his way of keeping you permanently was a baby.

Before Jinwoo could really settle himself in the moment, you were tugging at his belt, lips locked in a hurried fashion with feverish tongues exploring each other's tastes. You tasted of spearmint toothpaste, gentle, refreshing mint right on his tongue. Jinwoo wondered what he tasted like to you, but that thought quickly flew away when you hurriedly pulled out his hardened cock to sit on.

It happened so quickly, yet earned no complaints from either participant.

Jinwoo pulled your lace underwear to the side, the softness gathering at his fingertips as he moved and and slowly pushed the tip of his cock inside you. You sat down quick enough to make him gasp, bottoming out with an overcharged huff, sexually activated.

Perhaps now you and he were joined as one as a couple could be.

You moved, slowly picking up the pace while Jinwoo held on for dear life, cursing under his breath at the very sight of you initiating something like this. It was more than just sex now, that much he understood. How could you say this was just sex?

So beautiful. He wanted so desperately to make you a mommy, filling you up time after time was his only way to truly get that ownership over your fierce independence you displayed out of the public eye. He couldn’t wait to break it down in exchange for codependency. You might be one of the country’s sweetheart S-Ranks, but Jinwoo knew you to be filthy, riled up and stubborn enough to give him a run for his money. Taming that was his ultimate adrenaline rush.

Jinwoo pushed you down further, watching your breasts bounce, the whole car trembling with the anticipation of an orgasm. His kink took over. 

“We’ll finish this tonight, but I’m coming inside you and I want you to keep it in for the entire dinner, can you do that for me?”

You nodded immediately. “Y-yes. Yes.” 

“Good girl.”  

He pulled you down to kiss, both tongues and saliva joining in desperation which seemed to spur you on further, ass bouncing and cupped in his hands for safe keeping. 

“Give it to me- now, I want it now, shit - we’re going to be late-“ 

“Don’t look at the clock, we have plenty of time, hold on.”

Jinwoo fucked you good. The little driven breaths from your lips drove him insane, fingers clenched around his suit lapels for support, ravenous at everything you did. The way your pussy sucked him in like it was meant for him, made for him. Fate enough that you fit so perfectly in his arms, the accentuation of your waist enough for his hands to sit like a carved art piece. So much perfection.

He loved it.

He loved you.

And he’d love the body you got while it made his baby and especially after that.

A family. He wanted a family with you so desperately. Give that to me, please. 

“J-Jinwoo, I’m com- I’m coming- oh fuck!” 

He wanted to kiss you so your moan escaped into his mouth, but that would have been a waste. “Let me hear you, don’t keep it in- please don’t keep it in.” 

You did as you were told and let it out, the most sensual and romantic gesture you had done for Jinwoo to date. When your hips jerked, you pushed Jinwoo’s back into the seat which made his heart swell three times the size.

Perfect. Just perfect. 

“Are you ready for me? Take everything I give you and keep it there-” He pulled you in for one last kiss. “You can’t waste a drop-”

There was something that mulled over in your eyes, like a darkness, but nothing like Jinwoo could produce when he was pissed off. Because you weren’t angry, you weren’t enraged or engulfed with fury. No, you were hungry, ravenous.

“You better fill me up good, or we’ll never make it to that dinner.”

Fuuuck. 

Well that just spurred him on and when Jinwoo did come inside you, it was positively the strongest orgasm he ever had in his life, not just with you, but in his entire existence. He held onto you tight like you would disappear in thin air, like you would leave if he didn’t have you in his clutches already.

Jinwoo wanted to forget about the dinner and in fact, he did forget as his toes tried to curl in his shoes, his knuckles seizing up at his iron grip on your hips and digging into the plush skin that would most definitely bruise tomorrow.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. The scene was sublime, the actions and words and everything happened as it should. Never for a second did he ever think you would do something so risky so early. In the grand scheme of things, two months was nothing, and you were bending to him like you needed him as much as he needed you in no time at all.

When it calmed down, you leant over to kiss him, your lips less passionate and more sweet like honey, though your face did not match it. It was like you were troubled over something you didn’t want to share, or thought it wasn’t worth acknowledging because you smiled sleepily right after.

If Jinwoo blinked at that moment, he would have missed it. So, he took a stab in the dark to gain your trust a little better. “Don’t worry, we still have time to do this.”

“I know… I just- I don’t want to have to start over again because they’re impatient. But…”

“What is it?” Jinwoo ran his fingers over your forearm, tickling them into goosebumps.

“What if I can’t- I mean, they never tested to make sure before we started this and I don’t want to be a disappointment.”

You weren’t really thinking that, were you? This was the association's doing, not yours, and Jinwoo would be damned if he let you think that way, just when you and he were making headway.

“Please don’t think that way. It just takes time, don’t compare yourself to Hae-in, she just got lucky, but we still have time. So let’s make the most of it, hm?”

It seemed to settle you. You didn’t get off of him initially and Jinwoo assumed it was to keep his fluids inside a little while longer, but that wasn’t exactly that. You laid down and rested your head on his shoulder for comfort, you even allowed him to stroke your hair in the process.

“Okay… Alright then, let’s do this. We can do it.”

Well this night became a whole lot more interesting than I initially thought. 

Originally, Jinwoo fully accepted that you were either going to ignore the issue and therefore ignore him, or it would blow up into an argument. Though you never really had it in for Jinwoo, he was the closest one to air your frustrations about the association. He tried to stay on side for the most part, but then he’d say something that didn’t align with your frustration and he’d get both barrels. While he never took it personally, it was getting kind of boring.

So when you and he straightened yourselves up, left the car with you full of his semen and holding hands like a real couple towards the restaurant, Jinwoo had high hopes of succeeding his untouched year long quest.

All he was waiting for now, were those two little lines on a pregnancy test and the first step of keeping you was complete.

One hell of a bumpy ride, but his suspension still seemed intact.

Part 4 <- Part 5 -> Part 6

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DISCLAIMER - Crossposted from my AO3 - I do not own any of the characters or anything from the anime or manhua. This is a work of fan fiction and is absolutely not representative of the views or intentions of the original creator(s).

Also please don’t post any of my work without permission thank you!

[lazysoulwriter]

the love we hide. - pedro pascal.

requested! hope you like it, honey. thank you for sending.

----

You always knew dating Pedro Pascal wouldn’t be easy. Not because he made it difficult — if anything, he made it feel like the most natural thing in the world. It was the world around him, the world that didn't stop spinning faster and louder with every new movie, every new award, every new headline with his name in bold letters.

From the start, he had asked for your privacy. "I just... want this to stay ours for as long as we can," he'd whispered one night, arms wrapped tightly around you, voice heavy with something that felt like fear. And you agreed. Happily. Proudly. You understood.

But lately... it had started to hurt.

The more his fame grew, the more invisible you felt. He walked red carpets with stunning co-stars, smiled in interviews when asked about his love life ("I'm married to my work," he'd joke), and your phone buzzed with articles, photos, videos of him living a life you weren’t allowed to share publicly.

And no matter how much you told yourself you were strong enough, you started pulling away. Little by little.

Skipping dates under the excuse of being tired. Replying to his texts hours later. Letting your hand fall from his when no one was watching. Convincing yourself it would hurt less this way. That he wouldn't even notice.

Of course, Pedro noticed. Pedro always noticed you. Every blink, every breath, every tremor in your voice. You were his favorite story to read.

It all came crashing down on a quiet Tuesday night. You were supposed to have dinner at his place — just the two of you, homemade pasta, a bottle of wine. Your favorite kind of night.

But you canceled, blaming a headache. And when you didn't answer his third call, he showed up at your apartment, heart pounding, palms sweating.

You opened the door, still in your pajamas, surprised and guilty at the same time.

"Pedro—what are you doing here?"

He stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, eyes scanning you, searching for something. "Why are you doing this?" he asked softly.

You swallowed hard. "Doing what?"

He laughed, but there was no joy in it. Only hurt. "You think I don't see it? You think I don't feel you slipping away from me?"

Tears burned the back of your eyes, but you blinked them away. "It's better this way," you whispered. "For who?" he demanded. "For you!" you snapped, voice cracking. "You're becoming Pedro Pascal. You deserve someone who can stand next to you, someone who belongs in your world. Not someone you have to hide."

Silence. Heavy. Devastating.

Pedro stepped closer, closing the space between you with careful, deliberate steps. His hands framed your face, thumbs wiping away the tears you didn’t even realize had started to fall.

"You think I’m hiding you because I'm ashamed?" he asked, voice breaking. "You think I don’t want the whole damn world to know you're mine?"

You shook your head helplessly, but he wasn’t finished.

"I was trying to protect us," he whispered. "Protect you. From the cameras, from the gossip, from people who don't know anything about how beautiful and strong and perfect you are."

You let out a broken sob, and he pulled you into his arms, holding you like he'd never let go. Like he couldn't.

"I notice everything about you," he said into your hair. "Every smile you force. Every time you don't call me 'love' like you used to. Every night I sleep in an empty bed because you're trying to convince yourself I’m better off without you."

You clung to him, sobbing now, your heart cracking wide open. "I'm sorry," you choked out.

He kissed your forehead, your cheeks, your eyelids. "Don't be sorry," he whispered. "Just stay. Stay with me."

You nodded against his chest, breathing him in like he was the only air you needed. "I love you," you said, and his body trembled with the weight of it.

"I love you," he echoed. "So much. So much that I can't—"

He pulled back slightly, enough to reach into his jacket pocket.

Your breath caught when you saw the small velvet box.

Pedro smiled through the tears shining in his eyes. "I was going to wait," he said. "I had a whole plan. Paris. Fireworks. The whole cheesy thing."

You laughed wetly, heart hammering against your ribs.

"But I don't want to wait," he said, voice steady. "I don't want to hide. I don't want to spend another second making you feel like you're not everything I've ever dreamed of."

He opened the box. Inside, a delicate, breathtaking ring sparkled under your living room light.

"Marry me," he said simply. "Let’s tell the whole world you're mine."

You gasped, a hand flying to your mouth.

"Yes," you whispered, before throwing your arms around him. "Yes, Pedro. A thousand times yes."

He kissed you like it was the first time, the last time, and everything in between. When you pulled apart, he rested his forehead against yours, smiling that soft, boyish smile that had made you fall in love with him in the first place.

"Tomorrow," he said, "I'm posting about you. About us. About my fiancée."

You laughed, giddy and overwhelmed and so, so in love. "Are you sure?" you teased. "Might ruin your mysterious reputation."

He chuckled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "You're worth ruining everything for."

And for the first time in a long time, you believed it. With your whole heart.

----

[cheralith]

— party for you.

yukimiya kenyu — it's your birthday and your best friend has yet to show up to your party, his promise to you hanging on a thin line. (wc : 3.6k)

contains : gn!reader, no pronouns used, best friend!yukimiya, aged-up characters (20s), implied mutual pining, angst with comfort, fluff (unedited as of 04/27) a/n : happy birthday to my beloved yukki <33 wrote this piece with a slight twist as my gift to him ahaha. also very much inspired by "party 4 u" by charli xcx after i kept seeing all those scenarios from tiktok, esp since i'll be seeing her in concert soon !!!

There’s a tightness in your throat that you swallow down when you hear the phone start to ring, the steady and monotonous rhythm of ringback tone echoing. The hums are paced, in no rush to get to their destination, unlike the seconds that tick by as you stare at the clock.

It’s 5:23 pm. Yukimiya was supposed to be here nearly an hour ago to help you set up your birthday party that’s starting in thirty-seven minutes. 

Your nail goes between your teeth, an anxious gnawing starting to begin to try to raise your inhibition. Some of your friends that came early to also aid with setting up laugh and chatter about in the other room, ignorant to your apprehension that you thinly veil with a warbled smile. 

You blame yourself—your birthday fell on a weekend this year and you wanted to take the most advantage of everyone’s day off and have all the people filled with love to give you surrounding you on the day that you often felt most anxious on. An approval of sorts, you think, this urge to seek out that you truly were valued in others’ lives if they were willing to come celebrate with you.

But quantity doesn’t always equal quality. A good plethora of your friends and relatives have gathered in your apartment to celebrate your birthday, and while you cherish them for being here, there’s still that little crevice of yearning waiting to be filled by his presence.

Something is wrong with the camera, they say. 

“For some reason, there’s this weird glare that just won’t go away,” the photographer says despondently to Yukimiya, who fights the urge to contort his face in irritation.

He lets out a heavy sigh, something that bleeds urgency in a quieter manner to the photographer and pinches his forehead. On a normal day, he wouldn’t have minded this disposition at all—some of his payout for this shoot was by the hour anyway and he wouldn’t have minded spending a few extra hours considering all he had to do was stand there and look pretty.

But it’s your birthday today. And this is an event he can’t afford to miss. 

Being a rising celebrity is difficult—both of you understood that when he signed with his entertainment agency. But Yukimiya had made a promise to you years ago that you’ll still be of utmost priority despite his job, never wanting to thin your relationship even in the slightest despite knowing the possible restraints it might falter against. 

He has his fair share of last-minute rain checks, none of which he’s proud of, but none of the events that he had to bail out on were as heavy as your birthday—and Yukimiya wouldn’t forgive himself if he had to miss out on it today simply because the team was incompetent and unprepared. 

“I had to leave an hour ago,” Yukimiya says, pointing to the clock that currently reads 5:40 pm. Twenty minutes until your party starts. Forty minutes of his absence so far. “I’m sorry, but can we please quicken up the pace? I have somewhere to be after this.”

The photographer sneers at him. “Well we can’t exactly have a photoshoot with a camera, now can we?”

Yukimiya frowns deeply, but says nothing so as to not irritate him any further and to lengthen the excessive time. He excuses himself haughtily, going into the corridor of the building and pulling out his phone.

—(Y/N)🧡 (4:36 pm) : lmk when u get here! be safe on ur way! —(Y/N)🧡 (4:55 pm) : meguru brought party poppers haha —(Y/N)🧡 (5:07 pm) : hi just wanted to check up rq? is the shoot taking long again :(? —(Y/N)🧡 (5:29 pm) : checking up again? everything ok? —(Y/N)🧡 (5:43 pm) : checking in again, call me back if u can plz!

Missed Calls (2) from (Y/N) 🧡

Yukimiya bites his lip at the notifications, guilt seeping into him. The message he had sent to you after your first check-up text glares a red text on his screen, an exclamation point almost taunting him.

kenyu ! 👓 (4:44 pm) : I think the shoot might take some time again! I’ll try and be there ASAP, ETA 5:30? ( ! ) Not Delivered

He attempts a call, but the line shortly fuses, indicating his cellular service wasn’t going to do him justice in this time of need. With a waning patience, the grip he tortures his phone nearly crushes it and all he can do is just stare at the ticking time on his phone, praying that this will be over soon. 

It’s 6:45 pm and Yukimiya has yet to show up, let alone text or call you back about his whereabouts. The majority of the party guests have shown up, presenting you with smiles and presents and hugs, but none of them measure up to the familiar warmth of your best friend who’s absence fills in his place. 

It should be a fun event. Your apartment is scattered with party decorations, two large balloons indicating your new age bouncing around in your living room with your gifts and cake on the kitchen counter. Everyone is chatting and laughing about, bubbly and ready to party.

Everyone but you. 

You fix up a mask of gratitude, slapping it on whenever someone comes by and talks with you about life and all its other nonsenses. But the moment you’re left alone again, reality settles in you again. 

Sneaking yourself into your bedroom, you reread Yukimiya’s long birthday text that he had sent you at exactly midnight to ground yourself, trying to affirm to yourself that there’s no way that he would do a no-call no-show on your birthday out of all days, but you can’t help but feel a prick of tears in your eyes when you reread the last line of his text, biting your lip. 

—kenyu ! 👓 (12:00 am) : … As your best friend, I’ll be there for you, forever and always. I can’t wait to see you, happy birthday! 🧡🎉

Yukimiya is a good, honest man. You know that better than anyone. But you can’t help but feel doubt finding its way into your chest when you reread his final words of the text over and over again, it doing the exact opposite of what you wanted in the first place.

You close your eyes, resting your forehead against the closed door that blocks you from the liveliness of the party. 

The camera is back up and running, but Yukimiya thinks his luck is thinning by the minute, considering that people are now scrambling to try and find a replacement bulb for one of the lights that fused out just when they were starting to restart. 

Everyone is clearly irritated, but Yukimiya thinks that he’s on the leaderboard for who has it worst. He fists his hair in his hand again as he slumps over in his seat, the No Service in the upper right hand corner of his phone still lingering on his screen. 

It’s 9:01 pm and he’s still at the photoshoot, three hours past the start of your party. Everyone has taken notice of his evident absence, since many of your party guests knew you two were practically glued at the hip. His eyes heavy with exhaustion go to read over the messages people have sent him in the past few hours, a worry embedded in each text.

—Isagi (6:02 pm) : Yukki, are u still coming to the party? —Reo (7:24 pm) : Hey, Yukimiya. Not to scare you, but I think you’re worrying (Y/N). Do you need me to send an Uber to come pick you up? —Karasu (8:12 pm) : yukki, (y/n) is getting kinda stressed rn since you’re still not here. let us know if you’re still coming or not. —Kurona (8:44 pm) : We r about to cut the cake. I’ll save you a slice. Slice 🦈 —Nagi (8:54 pm) : whre u at lol :x

All of his replies have refused to send to his frustration, that dastardly red text under each of them making him grind his jaw. He’s been at this set for much too long—a few hours more than normal. He’s tired, his eyes heave, and all he wants to do is just come back to you and celebrate your birthday. 

“Yukki, start getting ready!” the photographer calls, making him lift his head up. “We’ve managed to find a bulb, retouch with makeup and meet me back here in five.”

He swallows dryly, stretching his aching limbs as he gets up from his chair. 

“How much longer do you think this will take?” he asks again for the nth time, making sure that his fatigue is visible to gather up some sympathy. “I’m really sorry, but I have an important event to go to tonight and I’m already more than an hour late.”

The photographer sighs and puts his hand on his hip. “Is it a funeral?”

Yukimiya blinks. “No.”

“Is it a sick relative in the hospital?” the photographer asks again.

Yukimiya shakes his head.

“Do you have an appointment or somethin’’?” 

Again, Yukimiya says no. 

“Okay well, then I don’t understand what’s up with this sudden urgency,” the photographer mutters. “You know, most people would really do anything to be in your position for as long as possible. You’re not even doing anything and yet you’re still getting paid, so what’s the deal?”

“I have a life outside of my job,” Yukimiya argues, his composure starting to falter. “I was supposed to be here for only three hours and we agreed I’d leave at 4:30. It’s ten past nine at this point.”

“What exactly can you have that is more important than being the face of Versace’s new cologne?” the photographer presses as he adjusts the camera, pressing all of Yukimiya’s buttons unconsciously. “Your ad will be all over the world, you’ll be collecting cash left and right! Opening new doors to endless opportunities! Tell me, Yukimiya… is there genuinely somewhere you have to be that’s more important than this?”

Yukimiya stares at the photographer for a moment, his words echoing in his mind, as if to tease him to consider them. But his stubbornness pushes through, as it always does, and he shakes his head. 

“My best friend’s birthday party is today,” he states lowly. “And I made a promise I’d be there.”

The photographer goes to glance at him from his peripheral vision before barking out a scornful laugh, one that makes some of the crew members and other models chuckle as well behind their hands. 

The photographer ceases his laughter eventually, despite heaving every once in a while. “Yukki, we’re grown adults. I’m sure not missing one party every once in a while would be too bad.”

Yukimiya’s amber hues darken suddenly at the photographer’s statement, disliking his tone and mockery. Was it so wrong to every now and then celebrate a person’s life? Especially if that singular person had changed their own for the better?

The photographer takes notice of Yukimiya’s expression, scoffing. “Don’t start giving me attitude now.”

“I’m not,” he attempts to excuse, despite the vein in his temple throbbing.

The photographer stills for a moment, examining his model’s stiff form, hands fidgeting with his phone. He looks at the window for a moment, taking account of the inky blue black that takes over the sky, then to the clock, then back to Yukimiya, whose glower is still evident. 

“Fine then. You’re a grown adult,” the photographer states with a sardonic tone. “I’ll let you decide. You can either stay here, do your job, and change your life for the better… or you can scurry off to your friend’s little birthday and we can choose another model who’ll actually appreciate the opportunity.”

Yukimiya tenses suddenly at the offering. The photographer had a point—this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that his agency had offered him. To be the face of a brand new cologne from a well-known fashion house meant that you had reached a height in his career, one that could possibly land him new brand deals or modelling chances. 

He’s sure it’ll do well in sales too, considering that his most recent drama he starred in had gained a massive amount of viewers that now know him by not only his face, but his name, a flock of admiration following him wherever he went. Yukimiya Kenyu, model and now an amateur actor.

He reflects back to you, suddenly. Your kind face flashes in his mind, your even kinder words echoing in his ears. About how you’ll always support him from the sidelines, that you’ll be there for him as his career skyrockets. You’ve always been there to support him in whatever decision he made to advance himself in the entertainment industry, always congratulating him with a large smile as he’d show off his newest photoshoot or point out an ad he was in. He had a habit of doing this—reflecting back to you during times like these, something to keep him grounded. 

Apprehension fills his nerves, another swallow running down his dry throat. Yukimiya glances at the prop cologne bottle nestled on a nearby table and picks it up. He lifts his phone up, staring at the date that announces itself on his lockscreen, with the little reminder of your birthday underneath. 

Then he looks back to the photographer, who patiently awaits his response.

Yukimiya clutches the bottle in his hand a little tighter.

The last of the party guests had left some time ago, the remnants of the party still ghosting about your apartment that you decide will clean up tomorrow, your body exhausted from all the emotions you had felt today. 

It’s 11:35 pm. Yukimiya hadn’t shown up to your birthday party. 

You reread your messages that you had sent him over the course of the party, each one of them still rather mild, but always just a slight bit tenser than the previous to indicate your worry. None of them have received a response. You’ve given him an extra three calls that went amiss and even left a voicemail with a tight, shaky voice to make him aware that it was okay for him to stay back and do his job… but just at the very least, let you know.

And yet, you still received no response.

The one person that you wanted to be there for your party had completely left you in the dark. You want to cry, merely due out of confusion and frustration, but you’re so tired you’re not sure you even have the energy to do so. They’ll just be saved for tomorrow, you think. 

You feel selfish for feeling like this—you were still surrounded by people that were equally as excited to celebrate with you, new memories being made for tonight, but the bitter aftertaste of Yukimiya’s absence has yet to dissolve on your tongue. He was your best friend after all, so for him to not show up without warning, especially considering he had promised to do so, made your chest ache. 

But you’re tired. Your eyes are heavy with sleep. You figure that your questions will be answered tomorrow. 

You shuffle yourself into the duvet of your bed, ready to completely knock out and recharge yourself from the happenings of today, when suddenly—your doorbell rings. 

With nerves electrifying, and your body shoots up at the sudden sound singing in your apartment at the odd hour. You pause, just simply staying in bed for a bit, before the doorbell rings again—twice this time, almost desperate. 

Caution prevails within you and you’re nothing less than suspicious as you creep outside your bedroom and into the main room of your apartment where the entrance is. It’s damn near midnight, and you’re not expecting anyone to arrive at this hour other than sinister things. 

The doorbell rings again, the chime tolling almost hauntingly so. The person outside is stubborn, whoever they are, and they don’t seem to be leaving soon unless they get a response. You tiptoe towards the entrance as softly as possible, avoiding the creakier parts of the floorboard to make your presence known. 

The rapid knock the outsider raps against your door makes you nearly shriek with fright when you’re just about to peer your eye into the peephole, the sudden sound making you paralyzed in your position, but a familiar voice suddenly melts away at your frozen limbs.

Yukimiya’s voice calls out your name from the other side. 

“I-It’s Kenyu! Can you open up, please?” 

It’s almost embarrassing how quickly you open the door, your desperation to see him overtaking your common sense. The door swings open and Yukimiya reveals himself in a rather disheveled manner. His hazelnut hair is messy, stressed strands straying over. There’s a light mist of sweat on his forehead, and his clothes are wrinkled. He’s even panting.

But in his arms are a large bouquet of neatly arranged flowers, two gift bags stuffed to the brim with wrapping paper of your favorite color, and a small cake in a clear plastic container that he somehow hasn't messed up in the slightest despite all the items he’s carrying. 

All of them are a visible display of effort in his typical Yukimiya-esque fashion.

You take a step back a bit, still startled.

“Kenyu,” you start dryly, “w-what is—”

“I’m sorry,” he splutters, chest still heaving. “I’m… I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t mean to bail on you. I swear to God, I didn’t—but the team was being inefficient, they were holding me kinda hostage, m-my messages weren’t sending—”

At his last words, your eyes widen, the heaviness in them dissipating. 

“—then my train got delayed and I tried to take a cab, but there was traffic, and then I couldn’t find a bakery that was open this hour for the cake, and then—”

“Kenyu,” you say softly, cutting through his rambling with a gentle cease. Yukimiya blinks, pausing and looking at you wondrously. 

You take a step back, welcoming him in. “Come inside, first.”

You find that there have been a plethora of obstacles that Yukimiya had to go through to get to you today as he sets down his many gifts, one of them being that the building the shoot was in had terrible service proven by the mass amount of texts he had tried to send you hours earlier. You find your gaze softening at his waterfall of unsent replies as you scroll, the ache in your heart fixing itself up as the reality of the situation settles in. 

“They got so mad when I left,” he weakly chuckles when you return his phone back to him. “There goes that gig, I guess. My manager’s gonna be so pissed.”

Time stops for a bit.

“Wait, what?” you shake your head, looking up at him with widened eyes. “You didn’t finish the shoot?” 

Yukimiya, still with a grin on his lips, shakes his head. Your jaw nearly unhinges itself at the shock, and you scramble to say something but he beats you to it, pressing a finger to your lips. 

“I know what you’re going to say. Something about a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity,” he says. “But… I swore to you I’d be here for your birthday, and my promise to you goes deeper than the one with my agency.”

His words cease your own attempt to rise up in your throat, succumbing you to a stunned silence as he tenderly places the candles on the small cake. You can only watch as he strikes a match, gently lighting up the wicks of the candles that gleam brightly amidst the dim glow of your kitchen light.

Years ago, when he had gotten upgraded to a professional entertainment agency from his modelling one, you had nervously explained to him over one dinner that you were scared that he might drift away from you as he climbed the stairs of stardom. You and him were best friends after all, and had stuck by each others’ sides for years on end, and you figured that there would be no point in your life that you would imagine yourself without him—the very image of it frightened you.

But Yukimiya had sworn to you, your pinkies intertwined as he wiped away some tears, that there’d be no lifetime where he’d leave you behind. That regardless of what happens, he’ll make sure you’re still there with him. He’s still there with you.

He holds the cake up to you, admiring how the marigold from the candles glimmers on your face as you stare at the cake. 

Yukimiya turns to the microwave’s clock, a soft smile on his lips as he reads the time.

It’s freshly 11:59 pm, and Yukimiya is now here with you on your birthday with less than a minute to spare. 

“We’ve still got some time,” he murmurs tenderly, fondness in his eyes that illuminate from the candles. “Happy birthday. Make a wish.”

Your eyes close, veiling you from the way that Yukimiya looks at you so dearly from across, taking the time to admire all your best features. He mouths a specific eight-letter word silently to you just before your eyes open again, his hushed proclamation to you kept hidden for himself—just until he’s ready to announce it to you, full and true.

You take a deep breath… and blow the candles out. Just five seconds shy of midnight.

It’s a few years later; you’re both older and wiser. Your lives are still just as intertwined as they had been, unwilling to untangle themselves anytime soon, even with your differences. Your career has flourished kindly, and Yukimiya’s own has just started to peak after his hit drama. 

And yet, despite all the ads you’ve passed by of him modelling, despite all the headlines that shine his name proudly, despite all the articles about him being a rising star… he’s still here for you, with you.

And he always will be.

a/n : thank you for reading! comments and reblogs are the best way to support creators you enjoy, and leaving one will always be noticed and appreciated ♡ !!

[slutforpringles]

Daniel Ricciardo speaking to the BBC's Lee McKenzie after his first race as a Formula One driver | British GP 2011

Well, I suppose all you could have asked for at your first Grand Prix was to see the chequered flag, so from that point of view it went very well. Yeah, I guess that was the main aim for this weekend, to see that, so that was good. It started off quite difficult with the weather and it was quite close with the others, but then they started to pull away from me and I was sort of doing my own race. A little bit boring at times, but the blue flags kept me occupied and just trying to manage those was probably the most difficult thing. I'm reasonably happy that I've got to the finish and got a bit of information to take with me and to progress for the next few. I'm sure it would be more boring if you were sitting there watching on television, as you have been until now. Just tell us how your heart rate was doing. We spoke about this yesterday. How were you feeling when you were on the grid? I was actually not too bad. You know, I think I tried not to... It's a bit weird, I tried not to take too much of it in because then maybe I would have hit the limiter a few times. But, you know, I just told myself it's another race, which reality it is. And I think starting from the back, there wasn't so much pressure, you know, of having to really muscle someone out of the way in the first few corners. So it was, you know, I was quite relaxed, actually.

[mintyys-blog]

MUCH NEEDED TRAINING | kon el kent x reader

DC COMICS MASTERLIST | WARNINGS: smut, mention of hurting someone during sex unintentionally, rough sex, swearing,

You didn’t mean to knock the guy through a wall.

You were aiming for a clean punch—enough to daze him, maybe keep him down until the cops arrived. But when your fist connected with his chest, he flew. Not staggered, not stumbled—flew backwards like a ragdoll, right through the brick facade of an abandoned warehouse.

You froze. “Shit. Shit, shit, shit.”

The dust hadn’t even settled when Kon zipped in front of you, landing with that confident little smirk on his face and a criminal tossed over one shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“I leave you alone for two minutes, and you’re already takin’ out the architecture?”

Your heart was hammering. “I didn’t mean to hit him that hard—I wasn’t even trying—Kon, what if I broke something?”

He raised a brow, glancing toward the distant, groaning heap of a man who’d just been ejected through reinforced stone. “You definitely broke something. But probably just the wall.”

He stepped closer, his cocky expression softening the longer he looked at you. You were breathing too fast, jaw clenched, the panic tightening your shoulders.

“I can’t keep doing this,” you muttered, trying not to flinch as he touched your arm. “I think I’m in control and then—bam, some poor asshole gets thrown halfway across the block. What if it’s not a villain next time? What if I hurt someone I care about?”

Kon’s hand slid up your bicep, his voice low but steady. “Then you learn. You train. And until you’re sure, you don’t go near the people who can’t take a hit.”

You looked away, guilt gnawing at your gut.

“I’m serious,” he said, guiding your chin back toward him. “You’re still learning, Y/N. But you’re not doing it alone.” He gave you a half-grin. “Besides, if you’re worried about hurting someone in the heat of the moment… there’s at least one guy on this planet who can take everything you’ve got.”

You blinked. “Are we still talking about punching people?”

That grin turned downright wicked.

You rolled your eyes at his smirk but didn’t pull away when he slipped an arm around your waist. The adrenaline was still fading, but being close to Kon always had a way of steadying your pulse. Even if he was smug as hell.

He looked up at the sky, then at you. “C’mon. You owe me a meal for having to patch up your mess.”

“Oh, please,” you scoffed, half-laughing. “You loved watching me punch that guy through a building.”

“I did,” he admitted shamelessly, already floating a few inches off the ground with you in tow. “But I’m still hungry, so unless you want me hangry and difficult all night—”

“You’re always difficult.”

He grinned. “And you still keep callin’ me.”

With a dramatic sigh, you let him pull you into the air. The wind rushed past your face, cool and sharp, while the city lights sparkled beneath you. It was easy to forget, sometimes, that this wasn’t normal. That flying with someone, laughing midair, stopping to grab fast food in full costume—it was all a part of this strange life you’d stumbled into.

You both landed outside a grimy, 24-hour burger joint on the outskirts of the city. The cashier barely batted an eye at the sight of Superboy and his powered-up maybe-girlfriend ordering chili fries at 11:47 PM.

Kon inhaled two cheeseburgers before you were halfway through your nuggets. “God, I missed food. You’d think with all the world-saving I do, someone would comp me a pizza once in a while.”

“Maybe if you smiled more,” you teased around a fry.

“I am smiling. This is me smiling.”

He shoved another fry in his mouth and grinned like a complete menace.

You snorted, licking salt off your fingers as you leaned against the table. “Thanks, by the way. For earlier. I know I joke about it, but I really do suck at this sometimes.”

Kon leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing slightly, like he was studying you. Then he said, voice low and sincere, “You don’t suck. You’re just learning how not to hold back anymore.”

You felt something twist warm and slow in your stomach—not just desire, but something softer. Something more dangerous.

The quiet between you stretched, charged, until he nudged your foot with his under the table.

“So,” he drawled. “We goin’ back to your place, or should I start clearing space in my room for the bedframe we’re about to break?” You choked on your drink. He grinned.

You ended up back at your place, fast food wrappers crumpled on the counter, the distant hum of the city outside your window. Kon had made himself at home on your couch—shoes off, jacket slung over the armrest, his muscular frame stretched out like he owned the place.

He looked too comfortable.

“You know,” you said, brushing your hands off with a napkin and sitting beside him, “I’m still trying to figure out how you managed to eat five burgers and not even look bloated.”

Kon tilted his head toward you, smirking. “Perks of the DNA cocktail, baby. Solar-powered metabolism.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled, biting your lip a little as the warm buzz between you settled into a softer hum. For a moment, neither of you said anything. The air grew heavier—not awkward, just charged. Like your thoughts were trying to escape your mouth but kept second-guessing themselves.

You broke the silence first. “Can I ask you something kinda… personal?”

He looked at you, instantly attentive. “Yeah. What’s up?”

You picked at the edge of a napkin. “Do you, uh… do you ever sleep with people who aren’t superpowered?”

His brow arched, but he didn’t laugh. “I mean, yeah. All the time. Why?”

You hesitated, cheeks warming. “I just… I’ve been worried about it. I’m still not used to this strength thing. My control is all over the place. Like… one time I was with this guy, right before the powers really kicked in full force. Thought I had it under control. But during—uh, during sex… I kinda—” you swallowed, grimacing, “almost broke his dick.”

Kon blinked. “Almost?”

“I mean, there was a sound. Like.. a not good sound.”

He blinked again, then snorted.

You groaned and buried your face in your hands. “It’s not funny! Ever since then I’ve been terrified I’ll hurt someone by accident. Like, what if I get carried away and break a rib or crush somebody’s pelvis? It’s not like there’s a manual for this kind of thing.”

Kon didn’t say anything at first, just shifted on the couch until he was facing you more directly. “Okay, first of all? Damn.”

You snorted, muffled in your hands.

“Second,” he continued, voice dropping a little, “you probably shouldn’t be doin’ it with ‘normal people,’ at least until you’ve got better control. But lucky for you…” He leaned in, a grin playing on his lips, “you can’t hurt me.”

Your breath caught.

“I mean, you could try.” He smirked. “Could be fun. But if you wanna test out your strength somewhere a little more… private?” His eyes dropped briefly to your lips, then back up. “I’m game.”

You stared at him. “Are you—are you offering to be my sex dummy?”

He shrugged. “Let’s call it hands-on training.”

A beat passed. And then you were kissing him—fast, hot, eager, like you’d been waiting weeks to do it.

You barely made it to the bedroom.

Clothes hit the floor in a trail from the hallway to the bed—Kon’s shirt, your hoodie, his belt, your bra. Everything felt electric. His hands were warm on your hips, thumbs teasing the skin just above your waistband, but he let you guide him. Let you take your time. That smug, knowing look in his eyes didn’t fade even once his back hit the mattress.

He laid there, bare chest rising with slow, steady breaths, arms folded behind his head like he didn’t have a care in the world. Like he wasn’t about to let a half-panicked, half-turned-on meta learn how to fuck without pulverizing her partner.

You climbed on top, straddling his hips, your thighs already trembling a little—not from weakness, but from the sheer intensity of wanting to get this right. You looked down at him, biting your lip, hesitation flickering in your gaze.

“You’re sure?” you asked, hands braced against his chest. “I don’t know what’ll happen if I… lose focus.”

Kon just grinned, slow and cocky, but his voice was soft when he said, “Then lose focus. You’re not gonna hurt me. You need to feel what you’re capable of—not fear it.”

That kind of trust settled deep in your chest. Anchored you.

You leaned down and kissed him again, slower this time. Your fingers dragged down his chest, memorizing the hard lines of him, every scar, every dip of muscle. Then you shifted your hips, slowly easing yourself down on him.

The stretch made your breath catch. Kon groaned under you, hands gripping your thighs but not guiding you—he let you move how you needed, let you take him inch by inch.

“That’s it,” he murmured, eyes hooded as he looked up at you. “You’ve got me. Just like that.”

You rocked your hips gently at first, afraid to throw too much of your strength into it. Afraid of slipping up, of hearing another horrifying crack sound. But Kon’s hands slid up your waist, grounding you.

“C’mon, babe. Don’t hold back now,” he teased, voice a little rougher. “You got all this power—you really gonna waste it bein’ shy on top of me?”

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Thought so,” he smirked.

You snapped your hips harder that time, the wet slap of skin-on-skin echoing in the room. Kon hissed through his teeth, grinning even wider. “That’s what I’m talkin’ about.”

You moved faster, testing how much strength you could pour into each grind, each bounce. Kon met you halfway, rising slightly with every thrust, every deep pull of your heat around him. He felt so good—hot, solid, unbreakable. You could let go with him.

And you did.

Your hands braced on his chest, fingers digging in. You rolled your hips harder, faster. His name slipped from your lips like a mantra, and Kon’s praise followed every moan, every twitch of your muscles around him.

“Look at you,” he panted, voice husky. “Ridin’ me like you were built for it.”

You whimpered, close, breath shuddering as you tried to keep control.

“You’re doin’ so good, baby,” he groaned, gripping your hips now, eyes dark. “Feelin’ strong yet? You should. You’re takin’ me so fuckin’ well.”

That pushed you right over the edge.

You came hard, shivering, body clenching around him so tight he growled, teeth gritted as he held still and let you ride it out. His hand cupped the back of your neck, gently pulling you down until you collapsed against his chest, shaking, breathless.

You felt him kiss your temple, hand smoothing down your back.

“See?” he murmured, voice low and smug. “Told you I could take it.”

You lay draped across his chest, still trembling slightly, slick with sweat and glowing in the aftermath. Your cheek pressed against his skin, the steady thud of his heartbeat beneath you as grounding as it was intimate. He was warm, solid, and completely unfazed by the chaos you’d just unleashed on him.

Your thighs ached in a way that made you proud, and your lungs were still dragging in air like you’d just sprinted a mile.

“I’m…” you gasped, laughing breathlessly. “I’m glad I didn’t break your dick.”

Kon barked out a laugh beneath you, his chest shaking against yours. “I’m glad too,” he grinned, running a hand lazily up your spine. “Was gettin’ kinda attached to it.”

You snorted, then wheezed when the motion made your sore muscles twitch. “Ow. Okay, yeah… I might need, like, six pancakes and a Gatorade before round two.”

“Oh, so there’s a round two now?” Kon asked, eyebrows raised, the cocky little smirk back on his face. “Guess that means I passed the test, huh?”

You lifted your head just enough to meet his gaze, chin resting on his sternum. “You didn’t just pass—you aced it. Broke the curve. Raised the bar. Other guys are gonna suffer now.”

“Good.” He kissed your forehead, hand finding the curve of your hip and giving it a lazy squeeze. “Let ‘em. I like bein’ the only one who can handle you.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart flipped anyway.

The silence between you now was softer, more intimate. You traced little circles into his chest, still winding down. Kon’s fingers brushed against your hair, occasionally drifting low to tease along your waist.

After a while, he broke the quiet.

“Y’know, if you ever wanna keep practicing… strength control, rhythm, stamina—” He nudged your sore thigh with his knee. “I am available. For heroic purposes, of course.”

You tilted your head, smirking. “Oh, so this is for the greater good?”

“Absolutely.” He grinned, shameless. “Public service. I’m practically a saint.”

“Superboy, protector of pelvic bones everywhere,” you muttered, laughing into his skin.

He pulled you closer. “Only yours.”

The second round didn’t start so much as ignite.

You hadn’t even made it out of bed. Pancakes were a lie. Gatorade sat forgotten on your nightstand, condensation dripping down the bottle as you writhed beneath him again.

Kon had rolled you over, kissing down your neck with maddening slowness until you tugged him on top of you—something desperate in your touch that only he seemed to satisfy.

“You’re seriously ready again?” you panted, legs already wrapped around his waist.

He just smirked, mouth brushing your collarbone. “Didn’t hear any complaints the first time.”

You moaned his name as he thrust back inside—slow, deep, the kind of stroke that made your toes curl and your fingers claw into the sheets.

And that was when the building shook.

Just a subtle tremor at first—a soft rattle of your bedroom light fixture and a picture frame thudding to the carpet. Kon paused only briefly, blinked, then looked down at you with a smirk as the shaking intensified.

“Oops.”

“Kon—” you gasped, clinging to him as the headboard slammed into the wall hard enough to leave another dent. “You’re gonna get us evicted!”

“I’ll fix it later,” he muttered, before snapping his hips forward again with a sharp crack of impact.

You cried out his name that time—louder, breathier, the kind of sound that echoed way past your apartment walls.

Your poor neighbors.

The window rattled now. A half-full laundry basket tipped over from the shockwaves of your body colliding with the mattress in rhythm. You didn’t care. You couldn’t care. You were too full, too gone, too focused on the boy above you who looked at you like he could live in your moans forever.

“Say it again,” he grunted, voice ragged as he drove deeper.

“Kon—” you whimpered, eyes fluttering. “Fuck—Kon—!”

He grinned, glowing in the praise. “Love when you scream my name. Might make a habit of this. Maybe start every morning like this, till you can’t even walk straight.”

“Already can’t—!”

You broke into breathless laughter, even as another moan tore out of your throat, half-bliss, half-shock. He was merciless and steady, pushing you higher, kissing you like he owned you, like your body was his personal playground.

Another thrust. Another quake.

BANG.

“Okay, that was a structural noise,” you choked out, barely holding onto the headboard.

“You’re still moaning,” he pointed out smugly. “I’m allowed to multitask!”

The building shook once more, this time with such force that you swore the foundation itself might collapse. The headboard slammed against the wall again, and a second thud followed from the other side of the apartment.

Your eyes widened, and you pushed your hands against Kon’s chest, trying to hold back the burst of laughter. “Kon, I think we might need to tone it down before we get kicked out of here!”

He just grinned, impossibly cocky as he continued his relentless rhythm, his hips slapping against yours in a way that sent waves of pleasure crashing through you. “Can’t promise anything. You’re too loud to ignore, babe.”

“I—Kon!” You gasped, a moan escaping as your legs tightened around him again, your back arching into him. But then the sound of a fist pounding on the wall from the next apartment over stopped you both dead in your tracks.

Knock knock knock.

“Would you two PLEASE keep it down?! Some of us are trying to sleep!”

You stared at the wall, blinking for a moment. Then you couldn’t help it. You burst into uncontrollable laughter, your whole body shaking with the force of it. “Oh my god, did you hear that?!” you laughed.

Kon, barely fazed, chuckled too, though it was more of a deep, amused rumble. “That’s the price of living next to superheroes, babe. Can’t control the groundbreaking events.”

Another knock, knock, knock. “I can hear you both through the walls! We get it!”

You collapsed back onto the bed, still laughing. “Maybe we should get some soundproofing? Or—”

Kon leaned down, kissing the curve of your neck. “I’ll go talk to ‘em,” he said, completely unfazed, even as the neighbor continued to mutter threats from the other side. “Maybe we’ll offer ‘em a little… compensation.” He grinned wickedly, and you caught the gleam in his eye. “I’ll slip a bill under the door with a note that says, ‘This is how Superboy does it.’”

You snorted, rolling your eyes, but it only made you laugh harder. “Oh, please. They’ll never want to see you again. The poor guy probably thinks we’re murdering each other in here.”

Kon raised an eyebrow and smirked down at you, his hands sliding back to your hips, moving slow this time. “But I’m not done with you, babe.”

You shivered in response, pushing yourself up, your fingers teasing the edge of his jaw. “Alright, alright. But no more earthquakes. I don’t think we could handle another angry neighbor.”

Kon just pulled you closer, grinning that cocky grin again. “Let’s see if they can handle round two first.”

After a few minutes of quiet, just as you were beginning to recover, Kon stood up, stretching his arms above his head. “I’ll fix the wall later,” he muttered, wiping a hand over his face. “Gotta make sure you don’t get too used to that.”

You snickered, sitting up and tossing the sheets aside. “You might just have broken me for any other guy, you know.”

Kon stopped mid-stretch and looked over at you, eyebrow raised. “Oh, I’m well aware. You’re mine now.” His smirk was all too knowing, and you couldn’t help but laugh again as he pulled you back toward him, this time for the slower, softer aftermath.

As he settled back down, his arm wrapped around your shoulders, and the soft glow of the morning started creeping through the blinds. “So… pancakes?”

“Yeah, pancakes,” you sighed contentedly. “And maybe next time, we’ll keep the earthquakes to a minimum?”

He chuckled, nuzzling your hair. “Promise. But for now… you sure you’re done?”

You smirked. “I’m never done with you, Kon.” And just like that, the chaos continued, but in the most perfect way.

[mummyemmatojames]

32. A Red Line Crossed: A Lesson in Public Boundaries

Hello, dear community. Emma here, your Mummy-in-training, with a difficult update on our MDLB and FLR journey. Today started out so wonderfully, but a moment at the swimming pool crossed a red line for James, and it’s left me feeling shaken and reflective. I’ve decided to back off from public play for a bit, and I’d really value your thoughts on how to move forward after this.

A Great Day—Until It Wasn’t

We were having such a lovely day together. I took James out for lunch at a little café, and in keeping with our dynamic, I ordered him a kids’ meal—chicken nuggets, fries, and a small juice—which was hilarious to me because he genuinely needed the smaller portion after a big breakfast. He took it in stride, even using his dinosaur water bottle in public when I handed it to him with a smile. I was so proud of him—he’s been learning to stay in his little space even outside the house, following rules like holding my hand and letting me order without fuss. It felt like our dynamic was flowing naturally, and I loved seeing him lean into it.

After lunch, we went swimming at the local pool, something we both enjoy. He was splashing around happily, and I was keeping an eye on him from the shallow end. At one point, he started drifting a bit too far toward the deep end, and without thinking, I called out—maybe a bit too loudly—“James, stay where Mummy can see you!” I didn’t mean to draw attention; it just slipped out in the moment, the way I’d talk to him at home. But I could see his face change instantly—he froze, then swam back toward me with this furious, humiliated look in his eyes. I realized right then that a family nearby might have heard, and it hit him hard.

My Instinct—and His Reaction

Sensing his frustration, I acted on instinct. I grabbed his hand, led the private changing room cubicle, and pulled him close. “Come here, sweetheart,” I whispered, lifting my swim top just enough to let him feed from me for about five minutes. It wasn’t meant to embarrass him or be a punishment—I thought it would calm him down, like it does at home when he’s upset. He’s nursed in private so often lately, and it’s become such a reliable comfort for him, so I figured it’d help reset him after the loud “Mummy” comment.

But I was wrong. He latched on reluctantly, his body stiff, and when I let him go, he pulled away fast, his face burning red. “I’m too embarrassed Emma!?” he hissed—calling me by my name, not “Mummy,” which told me how serious this was. He was furious and humiliated, not just by my call-out but by the nursing too. He said it made him feel “like a total freak” in public, especially with people around who might’ve seen or guessed something. He stormed off to another changing room cubicle, and we barely spoke on the drive home. He’s been sulking in the living room with his train set ever since, and I can feel the distance between us.

Reflecting on the Red Line

Looking back, I see where I went too far. I’ve been so comfortable with our dynamic lately—ordering kids’ meals, using his dinosaur bottle in public, nursing at home—that I forgot how sensitive James can be about keeping it discreet outside the house. Calling out “Mummy” in a crowded pool was careless, even if it felt natural to me, and following it with nursing, even in private, pushed it over a line he wasn’t ready to cross. It wasn’t about comfort for him in that moment—it felt exposing, and I misread his needs completely.

I really see him as my little boy at all times now, and it’s hard for me to switch that off in public. I love how seamlessly our dynamic flows at home, and I’ve been enjoying weaving it into outings more—like the lunch today. But this was a wake-up call that James doesn’t feel the same way yet. He’s learning to stay in little space publicly, but there’s a limit, and I crossed it. He’s not ready for something as intimate as nursing outside our safe space, and I need to respect that.

Backing Off Public Play

I’ve decided to back off from public play for a bit. No more “Mummy” call-outs, no nursing outside the house, no pushing the little stuff too hard when we’re out. We’ll stick to the subtle rules we’ve already mastered—holding hands, me ordering for him, the dinosaur bottle if he’s okay with it—but I’m pulling back on anything that risks embarrassing him like this again. At home, our dynamic can stay as full and rich as ever—bedtime, chore chart, kids’ utensils, nursing when he needs it—but in public, I’ll keep it quieter until he’s ready for more, if he ever is.

I feel bad about today—I hate that he’s furious with me, and I hate that I made him feel humiliated when I was trying to care for him. But I also know this is a chance to learn and adjust. I’ll talk to him tomorrow, once he’s cooled off, and apologize for misjudging the moment. I want him to know I’m still his Mummy, but I’ll meet him where he’s at with this.

What Do You Think?

I’d really love some perspective from the community—have you ever crossed a red line like this in public and had to pull back? How did your partner react, and how did you rebuild trust afterward? For those who’ve eased into public play, how did you find the balance between keeping the dynamic alive and respecting their comfort? 

Thank you for being here as I navigate this bump. I still see James as my little boy, but today showed me I need to be more careful about where and how I show it.

With all my love (and a bit of regret), Emma (aka Mummy) 💕

[gremland]

1.7k unedited preview of my marinat vampire au as a friday treat (i want to write more before posting on ao3 but i'm excited about how much i spat out this evening tbh!) Nat helps a stranger she found (un)dead in the woods. "Okay, so. You…died. You're dead," she says. Not sugar coating it is probably for the best.

It's the metallic smell of blood that catches her attention. The late autumn air is cool, the ground bearing the results of the first snowfall of the year. Large flakes are still falling. The back road she's wandering isn't even paved, let alone lit. It's quiet. Empty. Or so Nat thought.

Curious, she follows her nose off the road into the woods. The blood is human, she's certain of it. The notes of panic, of fear, are strong—Nat walks quicker. Her mouth waters as the scent grows stronger; she's getting close.

Nat pauses. The scent is beginning to turn, a sourness, a tartness begins to overwhelm the flavour. That's…not good. She breaks through to where the trees have grown a little sparser to find a young woman, dressed only in a white nightgown, bleeding out in the snow from a gash in her neck. Blood is smeared across her lips. She's died, Nat observes. There's nothing she can do to change her fate. But she can still help.

Dragging her back to the cabin isn't particularly difficult but the trail of blood is alarming; whatever did this to the woman is not something Nat is interested in meeting tonight. She hopes the snow keeps falling to at least make their route a little more difficult to find until she can come back out and deal with it.

It takes nearly an hour and half, but it's a relief to see the familiar landscape around the cabin until it's finally in view. Nat leans the woman's body against the wall of the porch and collects some water and some clothes from inside. She takes a moment to study the woman. Aside from the wounds from her initial assessment, she finds some scratches and bruising along her wrists. Nat wipes the blood from the laceration in her neck—it's already begun to clot and coagulate, the smell turning more sour by the minute. She has a few hours, maybe until morning if they're lucky.

Her long dark hair is sticky with her own blood but dealing with that will have to wait. Nat wraps the woman's neck with a clothe and wets another one before gingerly running it along her mouth. An ache clenches her heart accompanied by a pang of pity. She doesn't know her, but this person didn't deserve what happened. What's about to happen.

Inside, she lays the woman down in the bedroom and digs through the closet to open a small chest, where she finds an old pair of shackles and a vial of dried vervain. Nat feels guilty for restraining the stranger but she knows its for the best—it's the only option, at least for now.

After steeping the herb in hot water, she holds the woman's chin and slowly dribbles it into her mouth. This should keep her complacent until Nat gets back.

She pulls the strap of her shotgun over her shoulder and heads back out into the wilderness. It's time for a hunt.

"Help!" Nat's footsteps quicken. She took longer in the woods than she thought she'd have to, prey was scarce. Dawn was approaching rapidly, as was what was waiting for her back at the cabin. Hopefully, the traps she set for tonight would be enough.

She bursts in the door. "Hello? I'm in here!" A weak voice calls out from the bedroom. Good, Nat thinks. She's still restrained. She doesn't respond yet, instead depositing the two live rabbits she managed to ensnare into a makeshift cage. It's small and dusty, not a suitable environment in the slightest, but they wouldn't need it for long. Nat brews more of the vervain tea and removes the outer layer of her clothing. She considers starting a fire, but the cabin is bound to heat up once the sun truly rises. Nat pulls the curtains closed before tentatively entering the bedroom.

The woman's eyes are wide, panicked and with tracks of fresh tears streaming down her cheeks. She's pulling at the arm shackled to the bed with all the strength she can muster, though thankfully, it's not much. Not yet, anyways.

"W-who are you?" she says, ceasing her attempts to escape when she realizes Nat isn't coming to release her. When she realizes Nat is her captor.

Nat raises her hands in front of her to show her empty hands. "My name is Natalie," she introduces herself slowly, cautiously approaching the window. "I'm not going to hurt you."

The woman's eyes narrow. "Bullshit," she spits. "Let me go."

Nat draws the curtains closed.

"I will. I can't yet, but I will. I promise," she says.

"What did you do to me," the woman's voice cracks as more tears begin to spill from her eyes. Nat doesn't think she even notices.

"Nothing, I swear. I found you in the woods," she says and sits on the floor out of the stranger's reach. "Listen, there's-"

"Shut the fuck up," she interrupts, pulling at the shackles again. Nat is taken aback, though she shouldn't be, she reasons afterwards. It's probably starting. She sighs.

"Please, this is important. You're not going to be…you for a little while."

"You're crazy. You're fucking crazy," the woman shakes her head. "What did you do to me? Why is it so hard to move?"

"I gave you a tea that will make you weaker. It will wear off, but I'll have to give you more soon," Nat explains apologetically. She despises the feeling of vervain in her own system. At smaller doses it works as a sedative but it's still a poison.

The woman pulls a face and begins muttering under her breath. "Fucking crazy lady in the fucking crazy woods."

A reluctant smile tugs at the corner of Nat's lips. "I hate to break it to you, but it's about to get crazier."

Her captive sighs heavily and lays still, turning her head to look at Nat quizzically. She's tired, that's evident (dying is quite trying, let alone what's about to happen), but there's a fire still present in her eyes, though dimmed. Nat takes the opportunity to continue.

"Okay, so. You…died. You're dead," she says. Not sugar coating it is probably for the best.

The woman's brows furrow, but she doesn't react beyond that.

"I know. Um, there's more. It's a bit of a good news bad news situation. Or bad news bad news." Damn it, Nat's fucking this up. "You were killed be a creature who performed a…they did something that is going to," she trails off as she considers the language she wants to use.

"It's going to change you. And your life, or unlife, whatever you want to call it," Nat finishes. Disbelief is painted on her guest's face.

"Do you think I'm fucking crazy? Listen, if-if you let me go, I won't say shit to anyone. You can live your best weird life out here and I'll just go on my merry way," the woman bargains.

Nat shakes her head. "Based on how I found you, the change is about to start soon. It will be uncomfortable. Painful. It will end if we do it right, though."

"Look, I know you believe this. But I-I have to go, I don't want to live in your German fairytale," she pleads. Nat chews her lip thoughtfully.

"Where do you have to be?" she finally asks, looking at her guest expectantly.

"I-I, uh." Nat can see the gears turning in the woman's head, grasping at smoke, before snapping, "Like I'm going to tell you anything."

"You can't remember because your body is shedding your previous life. The memories can come back, they usually do, but we have to do this right and it's going to be more difficult for you because your, well the creature that did this to you isn't here to guide you through it," she tries to explain.

The woman kicks the blanket at the foot of the bed up to her unshackled hand where she balls it up to toss at Nat. It clears nearly half the distance between them before it lands pathetically to the floor.

"Fucking crazy," she says, glaring. "You expect me to believe a fucking, I don't know, werewolf took a chunk out of-"

"A vampire, actually," Nat clarifies.

She's met with a bewildered stare from the other woman. She blinks at Nat. Twice.

"Tie up some other bitch and read her Twilight!" she yells, straining at the shackles again. Nat takes a deep breath through her nose and releases out of her mouth. She can do this.

"It's going to feel like a fever at first. Your coherent thoughts are going to fall away until there's only one left," Nat warns. "Some people describe it as a hunger, or a thirst. It's both and kind of neither. It's going to consume you until there's nothing you wouldn't do to sate it. That's why I can't let you go yet."

"Oh my God, I got kidnapped by a crazy blood drinking lady. I've seen those specials, you know," the woman says, she's actually rolling her eyes at Nat right now.

Nat presses her lips together before raising the top one, giving her guest a clear view of her extending her canines.

"What the fuck." Something flickers in her eyes. They're running out of time.

"Look at me. Things are about to get fucked up. Do you have a name?" Nat asks.

"C'mon this isn't funny, just let me go. Please," she begs. Sweat is beginning to form on her forehead. "I'm going to help you through this, I promise. I'll keep you safe and I'll keep anyone else safe from you too," Nat scooches closer to the bed, reaching for the stranger's hand. "You'll be mostly sedated with the vervain tea and I'll bring fresh blood to keep the bloodlust from taking root too deeply. I'll be here the whole time."

Her eyes dart around the room and land on Nat's. She nods. "I can already feel it, I think. In my teeth," she whispers.

"I know." Nat squeezes her hand.

"Mari," she says between increasingly strained breaths, "I'm Mari."

"It's nice to meet you, Mari," Nat says and offers a half smile that quickly falls. "I'm so, so sorry."

She gets up to retrieve the steeping vervain tea from the kitchen and when she returns, Mari is already in the throes of her turning.

[wings-of-ink]

Checking in - Author Updates - Quick Poll

Hello all! I hope you are all doing well!

I wanted to check-in. I don't have a ton to say on development, just wanted to keep you in the loop on where I am at personally since it tends to affect production speed. I also have a question for you at the bottom.

As I've posted about before, this year has brought about some challenges for me. There aren't a ton of good developments on that front, and my job is being...difficult. The (technical) good news is that I am still employed, but some days I wish I weren't. (I'd much rather be writing IFs, lol.) There is still uncertainty about the future of my job because it is at the mercy of the whims of my government. But what is more pressing currently is that my employer has opted to treat its employees worse (let me tell you, this is a feat because they've never really treated us well), by making our lives and jobs harder. I've made some "worst-case scenario" plans to prepare, so I'm just getting by one day at a time. Oh...and I also have needed to work overtime again, so that's another time suck there. Ugh. In May, I'm taking a couple days of off for me to rest.

In more recent news, I am doing physical therapy...yippy! In recent months I have struggled with my right shoulder. I assumed it was one of those "you're in your late 30s" pains, and I just dealt with it. Don't do that, by the way. I have a very bad habit of just doing with little regard for pain and discomfort. But, it got difficult to hug without pain, and nothing messes with my huggin'. We really don't know what is wrong with my shoulder/arm, but I'm doing virtual (oooh shiny) PT (not the Silent Hill variety) to hopefully correct the issue. If I don't see results, I will need expensive tests and scans. No worries currently, though, I don't think this will slow me down much at all. I can still write and I don't experience any discomfort when I do.

I'm also still working on a coding class, which is self-paced, but I'm sticking to a lesson schedule to make sure I get it done. I would really love to be able to make improvements of my own to GC or even make my own Twine Template someday.

So, in more fun development news, Chapter 6 is growing steadily. And so is Chapter 5, technically. If you missed it, check out this Tumblr ask where I talk a bit about that. The ask and answer contain some slight spoilers for Ch 5 & 6, but nothing too specific.

Chapter 5 is up by a bit over 1500 words, if you're curious, and Chapter 6 is up to over 69k words. I am wrapping up a big moment for Zahn, which might be a bit heavy. After that, there's a more fun moment, which will present a few coding challenges for me, but I'm looking forward to it. *rubs hands together like housefly*

Finally, I have a question for subscribers or those who may want to sub in the future. I find myself wondering what else to post about at times. Especially when I have inordinately busy weeks, I just can't think of things that you may want to see other than peeks at the chapter. I sincerely wish I had more time to add more projects. I have so many ideas kicking around in my head...

So, I was wondering if you were interested in seeing things other than God-Cursed that I have worked on. These would be things that may or may not become much of anything later, so I wasn't sure if there would be much pull to see them (or if it would just be a cruel tease, lol). I have an incomplete IF that I did to help me learn Twine a couple of years ago. I used it to just get acquainted because I am very much a hands-on learner. It's a humorous and simple story (loosely) based on an actual time in my personal life. I have debated about finishing it. I have a couple of others as well where I was playing with a story idea to see how it felt. I also have a complete romance novel which I am slowly editing for publication.

Patreon, Ko-fi links if you want them.

So that's all for me. If anything big happens, I will let you know! ^_^

Take care, everyone!

~Lunan

[multiheadcanons]

THIS IS A REQUEST I GOT FROM AN IRL. I HAVE TO DO IT. MERCS ON SURVIVOR, SEASON 49. RED VS BLU

scout: scout’s trying to cut a deal. get him to jury and cut him 10k and it’s a guaranteed vote, regardless of how you use him. the team doesn’t trust this, especially because he busts his ass to gain immunity for the team. but by midgame, most people know he has to go. and no, he can’t make jury. the team would never willingly pull ten thousand american dollars out of their assholes to give to scout unless he was in jail and they needed to pay his bail, and he would definitely get some irritated stares and some questions about what he did. and he knows that. but that’s off topic, and this is television, and he’s trying to make a story happen. it doesn’t help that scout is an absolute menace in almost every challenge. as long as he isn’t having to think too hard, or stay still too long, he is outpacing everyone, and it almost makes it unfair. he’s too competitive, and he has to go. he is fairly loyal to the well-being of the entire team, and most moves he makes are to put the red team in the best position before the merge. deep down, he knows that he isn’t making it any farther than mid game. but it won’t stop him from trying to put his team in the absolute best position to get someone on the team to win the million dollars, regardless of whether or not they take his deal.

scout: scrappy, loyal to a fault, and smarter than anyone gives him credit for, if scout could hold his own for just a little longer, scout could be a phenomenal player of survivor and a great candidate for winning the whole thing. but he doesn’t drop alliances. even if everyone on his team is gone, and it’s just him, he will still not attempt to make any alliances with the red team. and in fact, if he thinks he can, he’ll sow seeds of doubt in the red team about his own medic. if only to promise him a vote if the doctor gets him to jury and then see that fucker not get the million dollars. scout needs a few more years in the mental oven, and if he plays again he has the greatest shot at winning a fair, straightforward game. a big hero archetype, who can get dirty when he needs to. nobody wants to see him lose. but there comes a point where his loyalty is a threat. where his physical capabilities go from a welcome asset to a danger during challenges. and then they have to get rid of him. if he played with strangers, his chances of winning are even better. he would come across as a good kid. his teammates, and frankly even his enemies would want to see him win. he would be the best at doing so while keeping his hands the cleanest. but with the teams, he would probably not win. and frankly, they would probably split the money regardless.

soldier: soldier is a true wild card. he takes bold risks, makes stupid moves, has the tough and direct conversations, and they almost always work for him until they don’t. truthfully, nobody even understands how he makes it far enough to get to jury. but between his no nonsense play style, and his raw strength he’s got more than enough to keep him on most everyone’s good side. it’s on soldier’s bad days that he’s more likely to get voted off in the heat of the moment. because when he argues, he argues like his life depends on it. he genuinely thinks he’s doing the best for the team. and it doesn’t help that he can’t, or moreso won’t keep secrets. he finds them useless, especially before the merge. it makes him a good informant for the more strategic players. and, and he may be wrong on this, he does think his team is at least more morally sound. giving secret information willngly and facilitating difficult conversations is one of soldier’s absolute strong suits. and he’s wonderful for morale boosting. the closer he can keep the team as a unit the better their chances are going into the merge. and he does that job well. by the time he is voted off, whether he made jury or not, the red team is an effectively closer knit band than the blu team.

soldier: soldier tries to be trusting in the way his counterpart is, and it will get him voted off faster than he would expect. they're not really seeing his bold strategy or openness as an asset, like the red team, his team just thinks he's actually lost his marbles. they're more worried he's actually lost his mind, that being on a deserted island has actually made his mind crack, and that the soldier they did know is dead and gone, and that in a couple of weeks it's going to shift from him being open and trusting to him actually killing them all well out of the radius of the respawn machine. scout and snipes are the only ones willing to let him know that they're voting him off because the team is genuinely concerned for his mental health, but frankly, jane feels betrayed either way they slice it. even if soldier played with strangers, i doubt he would make it to the merge. his personality is too... specialized for him to be taken at his word by people who don't know him. he would be seen as crazy, and quick to rage, and generally... untrustworthy. he would do better maybe on naked and afraid. he could definitely win naked and afraid. the team genuinely does have his best interests at heart, and they know jane won't quit, regardless of how he registers he feels. they know him better than he thinks they do. it just doesn't help that he's on a team that has no interest in trying to play a particularly nice game. the blu team's entire strategy is brutality. another waste of talent cast aside for this method, soldier is just the saddest example because he won't drop his morals. and it seems like nobody is willing to put his faith in him, either.

pyro: the only thing pyro is good for is sneaking in some firestarter and then fucking off before they risk showcasing their criminality on national television. pyro refuses to not only part with their flamethrower, but with their axe, their bed, their bathroom, their way of life that they have worked very hard and survived a lot of bullshit to achieve, to the point that to pyro, there is no amount of money in the world that will ever truly amount to everything they have right now. they may even get themselves disqualified, or have the doctor help them fake an injury to give them a inconspicuous out from the game so that they're not having to commit an actual crime and fuck up the competition for everyone. they are happy to have a little watch party at the base, though. they're rooting for their team! just from the sanctity and privacy of their own base. and they love having the base to themselves, mostly. always very ecstatic as members of the team start coming home, and the watch parties to get bigger. they don't care who wins, they just hope everyone's having a good time. they hate anyone who gets a bad edit; because they feel like all of their friends are terrible people.

pyro: this pyro will give it an honest go before they decide that actually, they would rather be at home and not... having their gas mask plastered all over national television. they make good elimination fodder for that reason. the blu team doesn't have many people who don't want to play the game, so the initial elimination fodder is wonderful to keep the players who are actually giving it their all. but nobody can say they don’t at least try! a great enjoyer of the little watch parties their counterpart throws. they love seeing people that pyro themselves would call friends eviscerating each other in the name of a game. they like when the team gets serious about a goal! they’re aware their team is messy. they like them that way. they’re aware their team is ruthless! it’s why they love them. pyro is open, accepting, and welcoming of their team. even if nobody else likes this team, pyro likes this team. and it would be quite nice if they brought home a million dollars. they just know their place in the team. and that’s not on that show. they do get into the habit of watching survivor, even when the team isn’t on the show.

demo: he’s the first to willingly walk away, and the second or third off the team. eventually the lack of readily available alcohol wears on him, and he is aware that it makes him a liability on the team more than he could ever be an asset. he’d rather be posted in the hotel, running the tab up. his team knows he’s like this, they don’t really care, in fact they respect his honesty and self awareness, and it makes votes a lot easier if demo is on the team, because he’s happy to go. he becomes a fan favorite that way, but he would never willingly do another season of survivor. especially without his team. they’re the ones who make it fun to him. he is probably one of the people his teammates would put down as a family member. and he will show up and give it his absolute best. depending on who puts him down, and how much alcohol he was able to sneak into the island, it’s a damn near guaranteed win. if demo was actually willing to put in the effort to play, he would do fine, but will be beat out by his teammates, particularly in his influence and societal pull. he makes a good extra vote, but the effort that he would have to put forth to play the brain games and survive and do well in the challenges... it's a lot. it's a lot he's not willing to do, specifically. not even that he's unable to, he just won't. come get him for a quick debut, though.

demo: if demo can make it past the first couple of weeks without alcohol, or very selective amounts of alcohol, this man is Locked The Fuck In. initially mediocre in almost all areas of the competition, demo relies solely on the good graces he has already built with his team outside of the competition to coast him through the first week or so of withdrawals. luckily, there are more severe threats on the blu team than him, and he makes a good buffer vote those first few times to really ensure his safety. when he finally has his wits about him, he becomes an immediate threat. to the point that if he doesn't want to get voted out, he has to win immunity every single time. there is no room for him to lose. but with his own scout remaining in the running, there will come a time that he just won't cut it. it is much more likely for demo to falter in a challenge than it is for scout to falter in a challenge, unless they're doing something that requires staying still. that is the only thing that scout is not good at. and that happens to be one of the few things that demo is really good at!

heavy: hearty, strong, capable, intelligent, mild mannered for the most part, if not just generally good natured; heavy is in it for the physical challenge of the game. surviving on an island isn’t difficult. this isn’t even “surviving off the land”. this is like… midcore month long summer camp. this is camping with great views and an occasional minor crisis, he’s living life! enjoying a change of pace! catching some fish and a chicken they let loose for food. they’re literally given food to hunt. and not dying for a while is pretty nice. heavy easily makes it to the merge of the groups, because he is simply too big of an asset to vote off. and generally, come the merge of the groups, if his counterpart makes it that far, unless that man was putting in overtime effort to come off as anything less than a conniving, dishonest, selfish fish carcass of a man who would, can, has, and currently does let his teammates die if it saves his skin, misha washes him, no question. he easily makes it to top five before the combined team takes the painstaking move to vote him out the moment he is vulnerable. and he is vulnerable without his doctor to play the social game with him. but if he makes it to the top three, he’s winning the pot. he worked hard. he was trustworthy. he kept his promises and played the social game to the best of his ability without sacrificing his morals. he was satisfied with how he played.

heavy: how far heavy gets is solely dependent on how much trust he is willing to not only put in his own team, but how much they can trust him. most of the blu team is well aware that their heavy interacts with them on a need-to-know basis. they are very accepting, when it comes down to the fact that they respawn, that they don’t particularly feel a need to trust him. but out here, yes, they kind of have to trust him. and that requires him trusting them too. and he is almost incapable of doing that. this will generally make him third, or fourth off the team before the merge. the power and strategic prowess he brings to the game is simply not enough to overcome the idea that the team can’t trust him. he understands. he doesn’t blame them because he isn’t interested in changing his dynamic with the team, either. but if he’s willing to put in the effort, he can make it to the merge before he gets absolutely societally clotheslined by his counterpart, who is guaranteed to make it to the merge. he simply cannot manufacture enough trust not only with the tatters of his team that made it to the merge; but the remains of the red team, who absolutely do not trust him, to keep him any longer than the merge. at that point, he’s worthless. in fact, he’s a threat. but the fact that his own team treats him as a threat makes him think that maybe they don’t want the million dollars that much. he’s bound to flip his vote for the winner. but he has to make it to jury for that vote to matter. and chances are, he won’t.

engineer: engineer is damn near a hidden immunity idol magnet, and it is his sole strategy. he hoards them like a goblin, placed in locations that are precarious to reach, which only speaks for how he balanced himself to get them hidden, and speaks to the difficulty of retrieving them. you cannot blame the texan for finding a tool and utilizing it to the fullest extent possible. it's one of the few things he actually does at camp. will set and hold the record for the quickest the immunity idol has been found. the entire red team knows that, somehow, someway, engineer is going to end up with the immunity idol. and sometimes, he doesn't even have the immunity idol. but people are making moves regarding him like he does have it. and to make the matters better, sometimes they’re just handed to him to keep stress on him so moves can be made around him. and that means he can make some big brain moves to keep himself safe up to the final five. normally, by that point, it does get easier for other teammates to plead an emotional enough case to him that he may be willing to part with an immunity idol. but then he is left very vulnerable to get out. and he knows that. but honestly, he doesn't mind. he played the game until his back hurt too much from sleeping on the ground. and he does think it's one of the best things about his team. they are not all needed all the time. and it's for the best for everyone that they all understand exactly when they've served their purpose, and be willing to bow out as vote fodder to give who they know will be the best shot at winning the million.

engineer: another borderline unwilling participant, engineer’s keen eye and cool head is desperately wanted on the team, but he effectively doesn’t want to be there. and he sees the way that they treat soldier when he tries to play the good game. engineer doesn’t want to give them the opportunity to make him look stupid on national tv. he doesn’t want to play a cutthroat game. he’d really rather just go back to work and do… not this? anything but this, really. this is not his particular cup of tea. and not something he really wants to watch, either. but, as long as the season is running and his team is on it, he’s gonna watch! they get the royalties, you know. he definitely didn’t let mann co.’s lawyers handle the paperwork. if his team want to indulge in what they call “good, healthy fun”, and there happens to be a monetary incentive, then he’ll support it… and also quietly collect the royalties check and divvy them up how he feels is fair. engineer would probably also be a very good competitor on big brother. he is fairly easygoing enough that most people don’t see him as a real threat until he becomes the head of household.

medic: there is a fatal flaw the doctor has. the man is not subtle. this man couldn’t make a bold strategic move without letting out at least three evil chuckles about it that can be heard across the island. and he knows this, so he is very careful about the moves he tries to make. it is one of the few times he is lowkey, at least as much as he can be. he isn’t very good. it’s because of that he relies heavily on alliances and his own physical prowess in the challenges to come off as an asset… but not a threat. because the second the team, pre or post merge get the inkling that he is a threat, that he is planning on making a move that could potentially disrupt an otherwise straightforward game, they will put his ass on the block and send him home. because he is a formidable physical opponent, and he is a liar, and he will manipulate whoever he has to, and look as weak as he needs to. at least to get to jury. his strongest asset is his ability to swing a vote and strengthen an alliance, especially as the field medic who treats the wounds. he’s chaotic to have on the team, because his teammates will just tell him things. and he’s moving around with so much information that he can’t do… anything with. so he tells heavy. and lets heavy decide what they do. and together, they are a near inseparable unit. he is more willing to purposefully throw his own game and get on the jury to keep heavy off the block because he knows if heavy makes it to top 3, he’s going to win. especially as his counterpart coasts into the merge. he is happy to be first, or second to the jury. he just has to make it there. and he makes good bait that way. it’s a wasted vote on a man who knows he can’t make moves, to push the actual threat forward.

medic: he’s an insanely vicious man. on the field and in the camp. a true string puller, with the ability to move undetected in the social sphere until it is entirely too late, the doctor, also the blu team’s field medic, is seen as a prime candidate for an alliance, and can coast on alliances and pure physical prowess gaining his tribe and himself immunity well into the final five, minimum. he is mainly kept on a need-to-know basis, but everyone is keeping him in on a need-to-know basis, so he knows everything. and everyone thinks he is on their side, and he’s using all of that to pit people against each other to get him a very convenient final four to go against. passing notes to the red teammates during challenges, feeding true and false information, luring some in and getting others removed. quickly. an insanely influential man, he is the nail in the coffin for many of the competitors. and he kicks it into high gear on challenges come the merge. he is never without individual immunity. the competitors want to keep him in the game, especially as his counterpart takes a seat on the jury, because everyone but him is aware that the doctor will not receive many votes if he makes it to final three. there’s a level of trust most everyone has with him, and it is incredibly easy for him to manufacture trust with the red team. he’s the nicer counterpart. the more humble man. and he takes care of them when the red donned doctor is offered on the chopping block instead. he’s a perfect fill in, if not better. and it will get him to the final five. he is a prime candidate for winning. he shoots himself in the foot with the amount of lying he does to get there. the jury will never be his friend. but he makes for a damn good show.

sniper: sniper is a formidable opponent, and one of the best competitors in the game. he is more likely to be taken out of the game by an injury than he is to actually get voted out. most people want sniper on their alliance! he’s nice, he’s easygoing, he can survive on the island, and he doesn’t try to make bold plays and moves. he knows where he is best at, and he picks his alliances wisely. he even gives prior alliances a fair warning that he’s jumping ship. this is one of the biggest threatening moves sniper can make. in fact, this move can totally dismember the red team’s stability come the midgame. and nobody knows how to turn what is a guaranteed nuclear strike on the red team into something that actually works in the red team’s favor before the merge, and by that point the red team is convinced he stays long enough to get an influential competitor out of his own team and then purposely twists his ankle or pulls a muscle to get him out of the fallout. sniper doesn’t know how to fake an injury and get out of dodge if he tried, he just really has an unlucky streak with it. he has never made it to jury.

sniper: what sniper lacks in motivation to really play the physical game, he makes up for in inadvertently playing the social game. sniper is a key player during the midgame to make an alliance with, and will normally opt, once the merge happens, to stay with his team. he and his scout together become a duo almost impossible to truly crack. they trust each other fully and wholeheartedly, and it makes it hard to sew any distrust with each other. and with scouts physical prowess in the challenges, that leaves sniper as the target to break up the alliance. however, because he and scout are on the same team, if scout isn’t sat out a challenge, sniper is effectively untouchable. he can easily make it to jury if he keeps his scout’s back. but he’s usually aware of the fact that he’s not making top 5. he’s happy if he makes it to jury, and he hopes his scout makes it to top 3, but he also knows if he goes, and scout isn’t consistently on top of his game, he’s next. but he doesn’t worry about the kid. he just plays the game the way he wants to. he does okay at most challenges. he is the best at endurance challenges. also a very strong swimmer, and thoroughly enjoys taking those challenges on.

spy: spy is dragged to the island kicking and screaming, and is used for elimination fodder. he's okay with this. he is far too refined for this. they just needed even numbers. but, i do think spy is an avid watcher of reality competition shows like these. i think once he gets back to the base, he is the one who takes pyro's tiny watch parties and turns them into teufort wide watching parties. maybe they aren't the most liked, but he's sure watching them in what can only be called a less extreme version of the teams' natural element will add to their likability. the only annoying thing about spy is that he thinks he's such a strategist, but when he was given the opportunity, he squandered it. but i just don't think he would ever want to be on a show like survivor, where he has no access to his modern comforts. i do think spy would be absolutely killer on big brother. capable in the challenges, a smooth and effective cheater, and a social god, that is where he is best at. not the castaway bullshit.

spy: if they don’t take a certain someone out first, spy will offer himself up as the first gone. though, if someone else gets put up for elimination, he won't go against it. at the end of the day he doesn’t want to be here, not for a million dollars, he doesn’t want to be here even if it’s just stepping on the island, he wouldn’t be here and stay here for forty acres and a mule. he only let them put his name down because he wanted to support the team, and he wanted the team to feel that he does support them and their stupid little money making schemes. nobody can say he doesn’t. because this is what he's willing to do for them. and when he’s finally back at the base, which will be very quickly, he’ll join the red pyro for their little watch parties at the base. he really grows to respect not only his own teammates, but the red team as well. they put up a hell of a fight!

A LITTLE EXTRA

saxton hale: first one gone on the red team. fuck that guy. get out. the only use he is for the team is fodder for elimination. they will purposely lose to get him out unanimously, day one. it makes for an absolutely killer season premiere. but the red team can and will bounce back. they literally function better without him.

pauling: if the blu team isn't smart enough to get her out of the competition on day one, miss pauling is absolutely winning the entire competition. miss pauling is one of the only people alive on earth these men remotely respect, and giving her the opportunity to foster trust and respect with the blu team is only securing her more votes come the merge and the formation of the jury. miss pauling is smart, quick on her feet, vicious in the challenges, and essentially commands their respect as their manager. but it's not just that. the team genuinely cares for her wellbeing. she has been in the trenches of some of the worst decisions they can show her without risking both of their jobs. they think she deserves to get a million dollars, really. and she is incredibly touched by both team's show of support to get her there. and what the hell, she'll cut them each 100k to split amongst themselves. it's not every day they get a million dollars to play with! but that does rely on her doing what she absolutely can to make sure they don't vote her out first just to have a fair shot at the million for themselves. and that is a very real possibility in the blu team.

and admin is jeff probst idfc.

[cosmicjoke]

Breakneck

None of them had seen the man. 

Not even Mike, with his nose, had picked up on him.  Not in the midst of the busy streets, surrounded by dozens upon dozens of pressing bodies, the smell of the food vendors nearby, the stink of horse shit and filth. 

None but Levi.

Of course.  Of course Levi had known.  Had probably known blocks before.

Erwin had wondered why he was lagging behind their group, trailing several meters at their backs.

Hange had called to him, teasing, wondering if Levi’s short legs made it difficult for him to keep their pace.

But it was because Levi had clocked the man. 

The assassin, Erwin thinks. 

It was the only reason one or all of them weren’t now dead.

The man had stepped forward, had drawn his pistol, had shouted out Erwin’s name to make him turn, aimed the barrel straight for Erwin’s face.

But he hadn’t had a chance to even cock the hammer before Levi was on him, tackling him to the ground in a flurry of violent motion.

Erwin doesn’t know who’s sent him, though he intends to find out. 

Right now, though, he can only watch with the same, awestruck fascination he feels each time he watches his Captain work.

It’s rare, though, to see him work against another man.

The man is no amateur, either, Erwin realizes, as he watches him move.

He knows how to fight.  Possesses skill at fighting in close quarters, his stance like that of a professional boxer.

Somehow, he’d managed to scramble back to his feet, and now he and Levi were facing off against one another, several feet between them.

The gun had spun away across the cobblestones when Levi had tackled the man to the ground.  Erwin can’t spot it with the rush of bodies, people scurrying to get away from the impending explosion of violence.

Mike steps forward, like he’s going to join the fight, but Erwin halts him, a palm against his chest.

“Don’t.  Let Levi handle it.”

“The guy had a gun,” Mike starts to protest, and Erwin shakes his head.

“Levi can handle it.”

There’s a thrill of excitement through Erwin’s gut, his eyes fixed and vibrating in his skull as he watches the man circle ‘round Levi’s still form, as if looking for an opening.

Levi doesn’t shift, eyes only following.

“… Erwin’s little guard dog,” he spits, mouth twisting into a grin, “That’s what they call you, isn’t it Captain?”

Levi doesn’t say anything, finally shifting as the man steps around to his back.

“Shouldn’t we…” Hange tries, and again Erwin shakes his head.

“We’d only get in the way.”

Levi turns in a single, fluid motion to face the man fully, and Erwin sees the refraction of light off the blade as the man pulls a wickedly curved knife from inside his coat. 

“I hear you’re pretty good at taking down Titans,” the man goes on, voice taunting.

Levi’s eyes are like a wild cat’s, locked onto something the rest of them can’t see, wide and unblinking.

“But I doubt that skill applies to fighting another man.  Aren’t you soldiers known for shirking hand-to-hand combat?  Not much use against a Titan, after all.”

The man flips the blade in his hand, skilled and practiced.  A professional.

Levi cocks his head, face impassive as ever, no emotion to be read in his fine features.

“… Nothing to say?” The man continues circling, “Are you nervous?”

“Your technique sucks,” Levi finally speaks, and Erwin sees the man’s expression faulter, if only for a moment.

“Oh?  You’ve got experience handling a blade?” He recovers, smug, and Erwin smirks to himself.

The fool has no idea.

Levi doesn’t reply, shifting his weight onto the balls of his feet.

The man notices, gaze flicking down a moment before shifting back up to Levi’s face.

“Guess the rumors are true.  You don’t talk much, do you?  Well, what can you expect from an Underground thug?  Not much going on up here,” the man jabs a finger against his temple.

He’s trying to rile Levi up, Erwin knows.  Trying to piss him off, thinking that will force him into some kind of mistake.

Levi didn’t make mistakes with this sort of thing.

“He’s got another gun,” Mike whispers to him, “I can smell the powder on him.”

“Levi can handle it,” Erwin says again, and hears Mike’s huff of frustration.

“You sure you don’t just wanna’ get your rocks off, watching him fight?”

Erwin glances at him, frowning, and Mike looks back, unremorseful.

“He could get hurt,” he says, and Erwin shakes his head hard.

“He won’t be,” he assures.

Erwin wasn’t a fool. 

He wouldn’t endanger the Corps greatest asset if he believed there was truly any chance of Levi losing this thing.

“You gonna’ make a move?” Levi finally asks, “Or you just gonna’ keep strokin’ your own cock?”

The man laughs, flipping the knife again.

“Why don’t you make a move first?”

“… Okay,” Levi says, and Erwin sees it, the moment the man realizes he’s made a mistake.

Levi launches at him, moving quicker than the naked eye can really see.

The man stumbles back, trying to put distance between them, trying to counter.  Levi doges the first blow, the man’s blade whizzing past his face by mere inches.

The thrill in Erwin’s gut grows hotter.

The man doesn’t know… but he should have realized…

The moment Levi got close to him, it was already over.

He’d only been delaying the inevitable.

Levi’s hand is around the man’s wrist, catching his downward swing, an attempt to bury the blade in his skull.

Erwin hears the sharp crack of bone snapping, and the air splits a moment later with the man’s fractured scream. 

The blade clatters to the ground, and the heel of Levi’s boot sinks into the man’s gut, sending him flying back several feet.

He lands in a broken heap along the pavement, and Levi bends to take up the fallen blade.

Erwin’s eyes flit to the man, watching as he struggles to his knees, eyes wide, face covered in a thick and sudden sweat as he watches Levi twirl the knife between his fingers, fluid and fast in a way far beyond the man’s own skill.

The man’s hand shakes as he begins reaching inside his coat.

“He’s going for his gun!” Hange cries, lurching forward, and Erwin shoots his arm out, forcing them back.

“No!” He spits, and watches as Levi flips the knife, the blade spinning through the air above him, the sun reflecting off it blinding for a moment in Erwin’s eyes. 

Levi catches it by the hilt as it comes down, just at the tips of his fingers, and then he’s flinging it with the power and precision one might expect from an arrow launched from a bow.

It spins through the air, nothing but a whirl of blurred motion and color.

Erwin hears the man’s choked cry before he even sees what’s happened.

The blade is buried, nearly to the hilt, through the man’s left shoulder.

He collapses to the ground, his cry sliding into a broken, keening whimper, and Levi closes the distance between them, reaching down and into the man’s coat, pulling the pistol he’d been going for.  He searches the man’s other pockets, finding nothing.

“… Who sent you?” Levi asks, emptying the gun’s bullets to the pavement.

The man writes on the ground, his hand curled over his shoulder, blood soaking, deep and dark, through the material of his coat.

“F-fuck you!” He spits, and Levi shakes his head.

“That won’t help,” he says, bending again and wrapping his fingers ‘round the blades hilt.  He pulls it free in a single motion, and the man screams, louder than before.

“Who sent you?” Levi asks again, and this time the man remains mute but for the ragged pull of his labored breathing.

“Mike, Hange, see if you can locate the first pistol,” Erwin orders, finally stepping forward, “Levi, I’ll handle the questioning.  Besides, the MP’s should be here soon…”

Levi pauses, blinking down at the man, before finally he looks up at Erwin.

He doesn’t say anything, and Erwin smiles tightly at him.

“Thank you, Levi,” he says, “You saved our lives.”

Levi looks away, then, staring back at the man, before at last he turns, beginning to move away.

“Get some cuffs on him,” he calls back, “he knows how to fight.”

Erwin watches him join back with Hange and Mike, a simmering pride in his chest.

He thinks he doesn’t have anything to truly worry over, as he finally returns his attention to the man, crumpled to his side on the ground.

Any danger he may have presented, Levi had acted as their shield against, just as he always did.

Just as he always would.

[frauleindermorgen]

When Pelleas pulls her against him, hand still in her own, she realizes he has accepted her wish in the way she was unable to for him back at Daien’s palace, back at *his* palace.

“I've made things difficult for you,” she says into his chest, “and me too. But still I want to keep fighting.”

This time the fight is not for a slim chance at victory for Pelleas is correct; there is only one ending to this tale, but she wants to embrace it rather than run just as she embraces him now.

I wished for our hearts to beat in time

For our lives to be intertwined

Fate, cruel mistress she may be

Has given me aplenty  

  She feels the string pull taught and the mechanism grind in protest - the burden too strong to bring them both to freedom. When Pelleas sets her aside, she thinks it is just like him, to take her hand for a moment only to leave again; but when she thinks it she smiles. 

She drops her shield to her side and with both hands holds on to Pelleas even as the bottom of the stage calls to them both. 

Her arms ache, holding him like this. They are both worn and tattered. His cloak hangs off of him, barely there, and as she embraces him fully with both her arms she sees it and the button fly off behind them.

  Greedy, selfish

I'll keep your memory with me

Locked within in perpetuity

So please, I beg,

For now, let you keep me

    If she were half of what he thought of her, or anything like the queen even now her people tell tales of she would grow wings and fly but instead they fall together. Micaiah takes his hand in the free fall and moves it to her own button.

It’s alright, she thinks. It's yours. It always has been.

What greets them is not oblivion but the cold shock of snow. Pelleas has fallen into a mound of it, and she on top of him. The button has torn  from her own cloak and while she thinks Pelleas must hold it, the facts matter little.

She buries her face in the warmth of him - even stronger now against the icy atmosphere and then sits up. The lights from the stage exit flicker in the distant. Familiar footprints lead the way.

“Let's go home, Pelleas,” she tells him, taking his hands and warming them with her own. Again and again she will do this for as long as she can.

“I want to go home with you.”

revue of chance

Mission Task Board: Rumors of an underground opera company spreads all the way from Enbarr to Garreg Mach’s own halls, describing an air like no other show. Two actors take the stage, costumed and outfitted with an assigned weapon by the opera manager, dueling to undo the star-studded button clasping one another’s capes to their attire all while singing and dealing with an elaborate and dynamic stage. The mysteries surrounding this opera company are numerous: their means of production, their motives for hosting these given the lack of an audience, and the strange reports that the actors on-stage always seem to lose control of their emotions somehow… Could strange magic be afoot? You gain your opportunity to investigate when a letter of invitation is sent to you, asking you to take to the stage yourself as one of those very actors with the promise that winning the duel might very well grant you a prize you could not even begin to fathom… [Grants Any Skill +1]   

[smile-files]

a little drawing experiment with two of my favorite cutie pies!!! :)

[skunkes]

back on the horse and clasping my hands with my eyes shut begging the universe to please let me get what I want because most everyone in my life could tell you that I never ask for anything, ignoring that the queue for Cheye's Wishes is still processing and rejecting 500 billion "can my imaginary boyfriend please come to life" requests first

[slayer-charlotte]

[Swallowing hard around a lump in her throat, Charlotte kept her eyes down. Her voice cracked a little as she spoke.]

S-stop... please. What he'd think of me now... it doesn't really matter. What he last saw of me was the last thing he ever knew, and that was... it was hell, Eugene... You just don't understand!!

[She hadn't meant to raise her voice, even if she wasn't quite shouting. Her least favorite subject, and he seemed unfazed. It infuriated her, and it hurt. Why didn't he and Kendo take the damage she'd done as seriously as she did?! They hadn't seen her father's face in those last few seconds before the Point took her, hadn't seen the blade he held high aimed at her throat! Who were they to speak on his feelings when they had no idea what she had seen in his eyes?! Hell, who was Eugene to speak on how a father should feel when he had never even had one himself?!

A quiet hiss snapped her out of it, and she glanced down at the source. Blood, sizzling on the sand. Her fists were clenched so tight her nails had bitten into her palms. Taking a deep breath, Charlotte slowly opened her bleeding hands, leaving them trembling at her sides as the wounds slowly began to close. Her voice steadied again, but carried a slightly bitter tone.]

Trust isn't as simple for me as "will they betray me or not". I don't care if I'm betrayed, all it'll hurt is me, and I don't care about that. The worst someone can do is kill me, and that's nothing but a net benefit for the world...

I have two things that make up my trust: first, that they will not try to control or use me for their own gain, and second, that they are strong enough and will not hesitate to destroy me in the end when that comes. I'm not the one I'm entrusting to anyone I let close, it's everyone else. They don't have to be safe for me. They have to be able to keep everyone else safe from me.

[She'd never actually put it fully into words. It... hurt, for some reason. It felt a little unfair. Not to her, she got what she deserved... but what was between her and Kendo involved a bit more than that. But... putting that into words was difficult, and frustrated her more than anything.

Eugene's laugh pulled her out of that thought and back to reality. Another smirk tugged at her lips.]

The Serpent's at least three millennia, and you're older than it, so yeah, pretty exclusive.

[She drew her sword again, standing off of the stone frog.]

Well, if you're capable of making mistakes, then I'm capable of exploiting them. Let's see if I can't make a little progress.

[Charlotte had stayed inside during the meeting. She wasn't associated with them, and she had no valuable input that the Empress and Kendo didn't already know, so there was no point in her going.

However, now that it was over and she was peeking her head out again to see if it was clear for her to head up to the dojo and shake off some stiffness, she noticed the Empress' Champion heading up the hill himself. Perfect timing, she'd wanted to talk to him again.

When she reached the door, Charlotte expected to find him already practicing, but he was instead standing at the center of the small arena, silent, almost like he were a statue. The hooded tip of the biggest broadsword she had ever laid eyes on was buried in the sand between his feet. Ume shuddered, but Charlotte swallowed hard and stepped into the room.]

I apologize if I'm interrupting... I was planning on getting in a little practice, saw you were heading this way too, and... well... I hoped you wouldn't mind, though I can come back later if you do...

*Eugene opened his eyes slowly. He made a point to pray before every practice-- meditation was a different thing for him than it was for the River Guard. Things worked differently in different realities, so he held no disrespect towards their practices. Some things, however, transcended realities.*

*Ah, but here was the young slayer, and the demon she carried along with her. Come to practice, eh? And perhaps to talk. That could be interesting.*

It is no problem, young Charlotte. You may begin your own forms alone, if you wish. Or, if you would like a challenge...

*He grinned at her, in a friendly but challenging manner.*

You may practice them on me. I run exercises with Kendo as well-- he attacks, and I do nothing but defend. It will be perfectly safe for you, and I would be quite impressed if you could break my guard.

*He raised an eyebrow.*

Would you be up for that?

[orcelito]

Feel like I am absorbing as much as my father after his death as possible. I will carry on his Legacy. I will be the Biker (in time). I am already the weapon collector (though with knives, not guns). I even have accepted owning a minions mug, something I swore would never happen (I hate those fucking things), just bc it makes me think of him.

Maybe he's gone now, but I'm gonna make damn sure to live a continuation of his life... just in my own way, lol

[waywardsalt]

completed fe conquest on hard mode :)