#oh well. this seems like a problem that one of these days will resolve itself... but yeah thats where im at . just taking it easy for now

[hellyeahpancakes]

[nekropsii]

On the topic of Eridan Discourse (eridiscourse?) earlier, I typed up a very long ask this morning (brought to mind by the discussion) trying to pinpoint a specific thing about the way the fandom handles transfem Eridan headcanons that rubbed me the wrong way. Instead of sending it I spent the rest of the day pondering it. Because the thing that was nagging me wasnt "people do it in a mocking way" and certainly not "headcanoning characters as transfem is cringe" and I finally figured it out.

(it feels wrong to use he/him in this context/phrasing so she/her it is) I feel like a lot of transfem Eridan content treats her transitioning as a cure-all for her negative qualities (sometimes explicitly as a punchline to the joke! but a lot of the time more subtly too) in a way that doesn't even necessarily come across as transphobic so much as just plain old misogyny. And yes, if you want to explore something like "once she solves this problem for herself she's able to deal with resolving her harmful viewpoints" that's cool and I get it! I might be more onboard with the headcanon if I saw more content that took itself seriously!

But most of the time it comes across as a binary of "girl will not be as shitty as when she was a boy because that is how Girl and Boy genders work" in a similar way to some June characterizations that replace her character traits to make her fit a certain image of "Girl". Beyond that (even in tons of March Eridan doodles that aren't even straight up drawn in the mocking light of the original) I feel like that same issue comes up in a ton of transfem Eridan art--she's just so flattened and sanitized even by people who seem to be genuinely trying to portray her in good faith.

This also kinda brings to mind the occasional discussion I've seen of transfem Cronus which I believe you've commented on before. My guess for most content I've stumbled on of that (including stuff I've seen one of my good friends create!) is that it's a riff on the March Eridan stuff (which afaik is the reason transfem Eridan is popular in the first place) and not taking the implications/fulfilled stereotypes it brings up into account...which (once again) seems to usually be avoided by tidying up the character flaws and ignoring negative actions to create a Good And Proper girl character which. yeah, isn't much better.

Anyways WOOF that got long but hey I think it was somehow originally longer before it became actual analysis. idk, do you think this checks out? ( oh I added some formatting inspired by how you write posts in hopes it makes it easier to follow...)

Yeah, I don't tend to be a fan of transfem!Eridan works - and even some June works - because a lot of people handle it in ways I just find... Iffy. If it's not weirdly oversexualizing a 13 year old, then it's acting like Transition is a magical Cure-All for every single one of your issues as a person. I don't think it's valuable to pretend that realizing you're Queer automatically deletes any prior character flaws. It's harmful, even - plenty of people will discover their gender doesn't line up with what's been expected of them, or that their attractions aren't a part of the cisheterosexual norm, and... Believe themselves to have done all the legwork necessary to wash their hands clean of any other bigotries. Plenty of Queer people are bigots - be that lateral bigotries, or racism, or ableism, or what-have-you - it's more common than anyone wants to admit. There is a reason that the Progress flag exists, you know?

Eridan and June tend to get flattened down to very stereotypical ideas of the gender of "Girl". June's wildly out of character and portrayed more like fanon!Jade, than... Well, herself as she appears in the comic. Eridan's issues are sanded down to the point where all she is is an evocatively posed barely-teenage mannequin in a skimpy outfit. Both of them are regularly portrayed as having had their issues blip out of existence the second they realized they might not be guys. The transfem!Cronus headcanon will never make sense to me and never be morally okay to me. To say Cronus is Transfeminine is just outright violent Transmisogyny, no matter who it's coming from. That's not even a fucking conversation. It isn't a debate. That's not cute. Really? The guy who fakes minority statuses to try to sleep with people? The aggressive, hyper-bigoted sexual predator? The sex pest who isn't above repeatedly sexually targeting children, one of which he is related to? That? You saw that and thought "That's a trans woman"? Really? You're seriously saying that with zero ounce of shame in your body? Go to hell.

Back to June and Eridan - Part of the issue is Misogyny, yes, but I feel another issue coming to play is that a lot of Tumblr seems to view Queerness as inherently Virtuous, rather than a normal thing that people just happen to be sometimes. Tumblr's prone to very... Unwittingly Catholic mindsets, and Queerness being inherently Morally Cleansing is definitely one of them... And it goes... Extremely unchallenged, all of the time. It's pretty grating, honestly.

[duologies]

short yue qinglan-centric character study thing. completed jan 28. rest is under the cut ＼(￣▽￣)／

Yue Qinglan had a dilemma.

“This won’t do,” he muttered to himself. “I need a human test subject.”

Earlier that day he had been testing the efficacy of a new general remedy he had concocted on chickens. While the remedy seemed to work, he had no idea if it would have the same results on humans. Truth be told, he felt pity for the livestock he ran tests on, but without a willing human volunteer, he did not feel comfortable testing on anything else. Testing on himself was out of the question–not only was it unwise, generally poisons and illness had little to no effect on him. He got up from behind his desk and paced around his room before steeling his resolve. It was highly uncomfortable, but Yue Qinglan did not see another alternative.

Yue Qinglan swiftly arrived at the farm from which he procured his chicken test subjects. He knocked lightly on the humble house’s door. An old woman in her sixties answered. When she saw Yue Qinglan, her face lit up.

“Oh, it’s you again, Yue-xiansheng! More chickens?”

“Actually, I came to ask for something else. Or, rather, I have a question for you.”

“What is it? Just ask, don’t be shy.”

Yue Qinglan shifted uncomfortably. “Well, Ping-laolao, to be blunt–do you know anyone who’s gravely ill or dying?”

Ping-laolao seemed taken aback for a brief moment, but she quickly recovered. “Hmm… I think there is someone. The Zhou family has a young daughter who’s going through a severe bout of illness right now. Does that help?”

Yue Qinglan nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, that’s it! Thank you, Ping-laolao!” Then he dashed off to the Zhou residence.

Someone who was severely sick or near death’s door had nothing to lose; they were the perfect test subject for a new medicine. If his general remedy failed, then at the very least it would soothe the patient’s pain until he could find the root of the problem. This general remedy was made from distilling the dew off plants that grew in areas rich in beneficial spiritual energy. The resulting liquid acted as a somewhat magical purifier. While the process of distillation was relatively simple, harvesting the dew was not. Fortunately, one dose required only a few drops, depending on a person’s build and weight. A remedy like this was sure to work for most regular illnesses, and would be especially effective against maladies with supernatural causes.

Of course, since Yue Qinglan was not a professional doctor nor an alchemist, there was some margin for error. He merely dabbled in these things because he found them interesting. While he had studied under an actual doctor and therefore had practical knowledge and experience, he would still urge people to visit a medical professional whenever possible. It was simply safer that way.

He arrived at the Zhou family’s residence still lost in thought. Before knocking on the door, he steeled himself again and tried to make his expression as neutral as possible. He must not look too eager or spirited; it would give the poor family the impression that he was excited someone was sick. He knocked on the door. A man who appeared to be in his thirties greeted Yue Qinglan.

“Hello,” said Yue Qinglan cordially. “I heard your daughter was very ill, and I think I might have something that may help.”

“Oh, so it’s Yue-xiansheng! Come in, come in.” The father stepped aside and gestured for Yue Qinglan to enter.

Yue Qinglan stepped over the threshold, and then was led to a small room off to the western side of the house. The Zhou family did not have a very large home. There was only the house itself, and a small courtyard in the front. The interior was modest and practical; aside from a few houseplants, there was nothing else decorating the halls. As the father and Yue Qinglan approached the daughter’s room, sniffling accompanied by a woman’s hushed voice could be heard.

The father knocked on the bedroom door. “Yue-xiansheng is here,” he called. 

“Oh, thank goodness,” the mother said as she opened the door. 

“If I could just get in…” Yue Qinglan interrupted. He edged past the parents as gently as possible. He approached the daughter’s bed, then kneeled at the head. The little girl appeared to be about five or six years old. She was sniffling miserably; her eyes were puffy and her cheeks red. She did not appear very sick at all. The parents were hovering worriedly near the end of the bed.

“How bad is it?” the mother asked anxiously.

“Her condition doesn’t appear too serious. When did she start feeling unwell?”

“About three days ago.”

“Has she eaten anything strange? Or has she been anywhere unusual?”

“Not at all; everything’s been normal.”

Ah, so it’s likely just a cold then. It was still winter; given the amount of time that had already elapsed and the absence of abnormal events, that was the most plausible explanation. Yue Qinglan did not know whether to be relieved that it was not anything serious, or a little annoyed that his remedy would be used on something so trivial as a cold. He tried his best to mask his exasperation. He turned to face the little girl. Smiling gently, he said, “Alright, I have something that will help you get better. I promise that it doesn’t taste bitter.” He took out a small gourd from his qiankun pouch and offered it to the girl. “Just one drop is all you need.”

The little girl obediently took a tiny sip before returning the gourd. Almost instantly, her eyes cleared up, the redness of her cheeks faded, and her breathing became easier. Yue Qinglan watched this process with an intense stare and a hand to his chin. Upon seeing the girl recover near instantaneously, he felt immense satisfaction; he even held back a smile. While he had been initially disappointed that the fruit of his labour would be used like this, he could not call it a waste. It had achieved its purpose, and that was all he could ask for. He nodded, then stood up.

“Your daughter has fully recovered now. If there’s nothing else, I will take my leave.” He promptly turned around and walked toward the bedroom door. Before he could open it, however, the father called after him.

“Wait. That’s it? What about payment?”

Yue Qinglan turned, but not all the way. “Don’t worry about that. I find joy in the work itself. Besides, this was just an experiment.” Then he left, leaving the couple both relieved and dumbfounded.

[valeriefauxnom]

Euden and Power - An Analysis

One thing that was rather interesting to me when I first realized it is Euden's interesting...relationship? with the concept of power. I'm probably yelling to the wind with this but I personally try keep these things in mind when writing him and maybe it might be interesting to someone else. Warning: very long post ahead!

So Euden, from the very start, is not exactly power-hungry. In fact, he's perfectly content staying in the capital, not forming a pact to avoid potentially causing discord in his family if they now view him as a threat. He dearly doesn't want to be a threat. He just wants to be with his family, and serve/protect his country/family in his own way, without needing much power beyond what he has as a prince.

Here's one of the relationship charts they made for advertising at the beginning of the game:

I think it's also notable that he was able to perfectly pull this goal off in the beginning. Leonidas has given up on all siblings of his after Valyx, viewing them weak and unworthy of his attention. Phares thinks him talented, which while Phares never clarifies exactly what aspect he thinks Euden talented in, isn't exactly something like 'views as a threat'. (But I will give credit to Phares, in all of his touted wisdom and insight, still is able to identify his youngest brother as having talent in anything, given some of the others). Chelle certainly seems to love to tease him, and certainly isn't very feeling threatened since she plays him (+everone) like a fiddle. Valyx 'thinks him feeble', obviously not scared, more likely viewing him at best in the 'weak sibling that needs protection from his stronger siblings' category.

Jumping to Emile, who views Euden as lesser in every way, and is growing angrier that Euden is 'taking beyond his station' by being loved in any capacity or trusted with important things. His anger is borne out of strong feelings of Euden's inferiority, because that is how Euden has set himself up in his family and 'confirmed' it to Emile: that the others are better, wiser, stronger, and he's not going to challenge that and risk their ire. So when he does move out of that comfort zone when Aurelius tells him to reclaim the shard and form a pact, everything is shaken up.

Euden's suddenly been thrust into needing to seek power to accomplish what he wants- one dragon, two, - five Greatwyrms, who knows how many other dragons and drakes, then he's setting up his own kingdom. Not for himself, but for others: for his citizens who are suffering under the reborn Empire's rule, and for his Father and later Zethia (since Euden seems to be of the opinion that Morsayati!Aurelius isn't his father's body or soul at all, likely indicating some thought of 'somebody's captured and impersonating Father, I'll need to rescue him'). He wants power now, but not for itself or himself, only for others. It's a means to an end.

We also see this in the lackadaisical way he runs his castle. We all joke about the daily chaos at the Halidom, but it's also a reflection on Euden's stewardship as lord. He really doesn't like being in positions of authority when possible, and so generally chooses to express the least amount of power he can to not be or come across as someone better or more important. He only acts as lord when needed to protect his country, friends, or other important things, largely trusting in his friends to govern and guide themselves without a strict rule.

But anyways. Back to canon. Well, and events. And oh boy, 1st anniversary brought a lot of material for me to talk about here. First, of course, there's Gala Euden, whose entire adventurer story shtick is him struggling with the problems excessive power brings because it causes others to fear him and grow apart from him. That is a very important concept regarding Euden in another way (his hyperfocus on other people instead of himself) but I digress. That's a rant for another day.

In the end, Euden resolves himself to continue to gain power, even in the face of 'eternally crushing loneliness' this power will bring, much the same as Alberius before him. His friends rescue him and try to remind him that they'll be there with him, sure, but his actual resolve on this notion...doesn't actually change much. If it is needed, he'll do it, even if he strongly prefers and needs his friends with him.

Then came Fractured Futures, an event that starts from Chronos preying on the fact that Euden just woke up from yet another nightmare and lamenting his lack of power back then to manipulate him into time traveling for his secret true liege. As such, Euden is largely alone with Chronos for this event, save for Audric. And right as Chronos reveals his true colors and is in the process of killing a Zethia, he curses at himself in a much stronger critique than he'd ever likely throw at anyone else. I quote: "Dammit, you stupid body! Move! MOVE!"

...His powerlessness has struck again, causing a Zethia to die before his eyes. And in his mind, he's no one to blame but himself and his own weakness. And so, he resolves to get stronger. Not because he wants it, or for personal gain and satisfaction, but for others.

He loathes it. Or rather, the need of it for his desires. From it, he's antagonized most his siblings now turning on him as a threat in war or a threat to their own self-perception in Emile's case. But still, he proceeds.

Thus forms the twisted relationship he has with it: he needs it, seeks it out, but dislikes some of what it has brought to him. But he's going to do his best not to let anyone know about these struggles, because Euden is Euden and Euden is hard set on not burdening anyone with his 'weakness'. It's noted several times how he's always trying to do too much on his own, and shown in others, like Gala Sarisse's story where he outright collapses from overwork.

He's trying to do everything on his own power, and will struggle by himself until he burns out and can physically do no more. Things change, though, when Bondforged Euden arrived.

By now, Euden has been forced to accept that he is not Atlas (the mythological one, not the -metheus' brother!) and does, in fact, need his friends. Chapter 23 alone further stresses this when he again tries to take on too much too soon and needs put in place by his siblings. And then the world can 'reward' that acknowledgement in the form of more power.

It's kinda an interesting give and take in the larger narrative. Euden trying to do things on his own are generally discouraged/'punished', and relying on his friends or trusting in them is rewarded. Even the very beginning, he tried to set out alone without Zethia or Notte as not to endanger them, but quickly finds himself in need. Zethia rescues him, he acknowledges that he was a bit overconfident, and then things start going smoother.

All in all, I know this is probably getting way too rambling, but at its core, Dragalia has yet another message aside from family and loving yourself and all the other overarching themes of destiny, etc: "You shouldn't try to do everything yourself. Working together with others makes you more powerful, not weak. Needing others' support isn't weakness."

There's a lot more I could say and add about it, but I think it's one of the cooler subtler threads to Euden that easily can go overlooked in the larger identity crisis and all that. So yeah, I think Euden struggles a lot with the need of power he has/the results thereof, and when he finally accepts that he will never be able to 'hold up the entire world without burdening anyone else', that's when he's strongest.

Hope you enjoyed this sprawling mass of text, and hopefully all the images and stuff are clear!

[skymaiden32]

Brothers and Enemies

Read on AO3 here

Fandom: Thunderbirds

Tagging: @dragonoffantasyandreality @thundergeek59 @janetm74 @katblu42 @liseylou @amistrio @uniwolfcorn @idontknowreallywhy (Please ask if you would like to get alerts when I update or post new stories.)

Thundertober Day 6: Spiritual

Kyrano gives three feuding brothers a few words of advice.

Continuity: TOS

------

It was a beautiful day on Tracy Island. An array of tropical wildlife thrived in the trees of the jungle and the reefs of the surrounding sea, all vibrant and colourful. Kyrano inhaled deeply as he watched it all from the sanctity of his garden. Days like this, when the world was at peace and all was still, were what he lived for.

So of course, the powers that be decided it was high time for some chaos. “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!!” The shout carried from the main house across what must have been the entire island. Kyrano immediately recognised the voice as Virgil. He sighed, wondering who was responsible for the second brother's anger. And what the reason was. It took a lot to make Virgil angry, but when he was, the entire house knew within seconds.

“Then next time,” a second voice replied to Virgil. Alan. “Don’t steal my cheesecake!” Kyrano chuckled. A trivial disagreement between brothers. Seemed like this would get resolved by itself fairly quickly. At least hopefully. With Grandma on the supply run with Scott, and Jeff away on business, there was no-one to keep them in check.

“That doesn’t mean you can just do that, Alan! I could’ve really gotten hurt there…” Of course, Kyrano thought, he could be proven wrong about it being resolved quickly.

Alan scoffed. “Really? By slipping on some spilled water?”

“Spilled water from an ice bucket,” Virgil explained. Kyrano could practically see him getting angrier from here. “That YOU kicked over while I was walking past!” Kyrano’s interest was definitely piqued now. He moved closer to the house to hear a little better, and to intervene if need be.

“Yeah…” Gordon’s voice was nervous as he joined in. “It was going a bit far for a slice of cheesecake, if you ask me, Al…”

“Well nobody did ask you, Gordon.” Alan replied harshly. “So you can stay out of this!”

Virgil gasped as if what Alan had just said had been directed at him. “Don’t talk to Gordon like that! Or me for that matter!”

Just as Alan was about to retort, Kyrano decided it was high time he stepped in. “What seems to be the problem, gentlemen?” He walked over the threshold. “It sounds like quite the argument.”

Virgil argued against the intervention. “Oh, it’s nothing, Kyrano. Don’t worry. Just a normal brotherly spat.”

Gordon chuckled without humour. “Sure, let’s call it that...” 

Alan glared at his immediate brother. Kyrano raised his eyebrow. “Oh? Well, I happen to have had my fair share of these ‘brotherly spats’. I am happy to help where I can and offer advice, if you so desire.”

“It’s fine-”

“I insist, Master Alan.” Kyrano stated matter-of-factly, giving his daughter’s boyfriend a pointed look. “Come sit, all of you,” he pointed to the chairs outside. “And we will discuss over a nice cup of tea.”

The mere suggestion calmed the three enough that they exchanged a puzzled look, before nodding. Gordon and Alan sat on the balcony, looking out to the sea, with Virgil offering to help Kyrano with the tea. Soon, the four men sat in a circle, calm, but subdued given what had just happened.

“It is not easy,” the manservant started, causing all three brothers to look up at him from their drinks. “To get along with your brothers at all times. In fact, it may well be impossible. Believe me, I understand that perfectly. After all, it is simply what happens when you live and work with people who are so similar to you for so long.” He sighed. “But Master Alan, your brothers were right when they not only said someone could’ve gotten seriously hurt, but it was also a step too far.” They all listened, attentively. “My own brother hurt me, and continues to hurt me near daily.” Three pairs of eyes flew wide open at the statement, all of them knowing exactly who Kyrano was talking about. “We were as close as you five were, once.”

“What happened?” Alan’s voice was quiet when he asked that question. “How did he become…” He hesitated, but he didn’t need to finish that sentence. He tried anyway. “The Hood…?”

Kyrano sighed again, sipping his tea. “I wish I knew when it started. All I do know is that one day, he went too far. My wife…” He shook his head. “Forgive me for not being as forthcoming as you would like.” Kyrano looked at Alan again. “It may seem trivial to you, but it was not to your brothers. I will not let your family be split apart like mine was.”

Alan sighed, reading between the lines, and turned to look at his two older brothers. “I’m sorry. I really am…”

“We know sprout. Just don’t do it again.” Gordon ruffled his hair. The radio in the lounge beeped urgently. “That’ll be Grandma and Scott. I’ll guide them in and you meet them on the runway, okay?”

“Okay.” Alan nodded in agreement, and the two left, leaving Virgil and Kyrano by themselves.

Virgil breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Kyrano. You always know just what to say. Guess you’ve learned a thing or two from the spiritual lifesyle.”

“That, and being old.” Kyrano smiled, and Virgil laughed. “I was just happy to help.” He made his way back down the steps to the garden, only stopping to say one last thing. “Remember to finish that tea. It wouldn’t do to let it get cold.”

Back down in the garden, he breathed in and out, taking in the new but familiar sounds as one more Tracy brother and their grandmother joined what was soon to be a cacophony once again. Kyrano didn’t mind. It was a beautiful day, and he could feel at peace anywhere.

[ecemichi]

Ring.A.Bell Chapter 6

Keito: Eichi.

Eichi: Hm? Hello there, Keito. What brings you to the StarPro office? Is there something you need from me?

Keito: Don’t just ask for something and forget about it right after. I’ve put together the things you wanted and brought them over.

Eichi: What? Already? I just requested them from you yesterday. I didn’t expect that you’d be done with them so soon.

You’re as outstanding as always — you finish your work remarkably quickly. …Yes, these documents are perfect. You did your job well. Thank you, this is a huge help.

Keito: I happened to be free this time, but isn’t it better to leave such work to your trustworthy minions?

Eichi: Fufu. You’re my number one minion, though ♪

Keito: How incorrigible. When exactly did I become your minion?

Eichi: My, I wish you wouldn’t say such sad things.

Perhaps this is the product of your experience managing the Student Council back at Yumenosaki…

But the documents you produce are consistently flawless, down to the placement of every last staple. I simply can’t have peace of mind unless I’m able to look through them every once in a while.

Keito: The more you speak the more I get irritated. You’re just tormenting me for the kicks right now, aren’t you?

Eichi: How cruel of you to imply such a thing. I’m your friend — it’s truly disheartening to see you be so salty around me. Why, you’re making me lose hope in the concept of friendship itself.

Oh, I’ve just learnt the word “salty.” It’s terribly fitting, wouldn’t you agree? Young people these days have such a wonderful sense of humor.

Keito: Haah… That’s enough for one day. I’ve done my part here, so I’ll be taking my lea―

Hm?

Is that Anzu’s proposal...?

Eichi: Hm? Yes, that’s right. I wasn’t able to accept it in the end, though.

But, wait… I wasn’t aware that you knew of her proposal as well.

Keito: Well, she came to me for some advice. I don’t know if I’ve been of help to her, though.

Eichi: Oh, I was wondering why Anzu-chan brought it to me so suddenly… Now I see that you were advising her.

Keito: It may not be up to me to decide, but… Why not permit it? It doesn’t seem like the proposal would cause problems.

I understand that the executives worry about the risk, but it’s Anzu we’re talking about. She can surely make things work out.

As long as you fulfill your task as a sponsor, it’ll be as easy as stealing candy from a child.

Eichi: Goodness, you truly are soft on her.

Keito: Hmph. No, I’m not.

Eichi: Is that so? I do beg to differ.

But anyways, if she had given me a proposal I could approve of, I would’ve helped her pass it on to the executives.

However, it simply wasn’t adequate. She has a tendency to get too caught up in dreams and fantasies, and that proposal is proof.

As someone who operates— actually, perhaps it’d be best for me to say “manage” here. In any case, considering my position, I couldn’t have possibly allowed it to pass.

That being said… If she uses this rejection as an opportunity to think it through more thoroughly…

That is to say, if she has a suitable amount of resolve and passion, I might change my mind.

Keito: You and your obstinate personality… Whatever, that’s fine. The position to call the shots belongs to you, after all.

Keito: ―Hm? Do you hear an uproar coming from the corridors…?

Leo: What's goin' on~! Show yourself, Tenshi!

Mao: Uwah?! Why're you yelling?! Tsukinaga-senpai, please restrain yourself a bit!

Midori: We’re standing out so much… They can spot us from outer space… I want to die…

Keito: Is that voice Tsukinaga’s? What in the world is going on there…? Sounds like he’s calling for you, Eichi. Did you do something to provoke him again?

Eichi: To Tsukinaga-kun? No, not that I can recall. I wonder what he wants? I haven’t the faintest clue.

Leo: Ah, there you are! The hell's going on, Tenshi?! I never consented to this!

Keito: Oi. I don’t know what’s happened, but you better calm down. You’re disturbing other people.

Leo: Huh? Oh, Keito's here, too! Uchuu~☆ What're you doin' in StarPro's office?

Keito: I’m here for some minor business.

Mao: Ahh.... We finally caught up with him...

Midori: So noisy… We’ll definitely get scolded for this… How depressing…

Keito: ? Isara and Takamine too… Isn’t that an odd trio to see? Seriously, what’s going on?

Eichi: I’m only hearing bits and pieces, but it seems as though there’s something you’d like to discuss with me.

Leo: Ah—Yeah! I sure do, Tenshi! The hell's going on, huh?! Anzu's gettin' married, ain't she?!

How're you just relaxing right now?! This is no time to act all grown-up, Tenshi! We're the same age, so it's really pissin' me off!

Mao: Tsukinaga-senpai... That last point's not the main issue, you know...

Leo: Anyway! There's no way I'm consentin' to this!

Keito: The…? What?

Eichi: …Erm, what’s going on exactly?

Midori: Umm, I’m so sorry, Hasumi-senpai, Tenshouin-senpai... I doubt Tsukinaga-senpai will be able to tell what’s going on in his current state of mind. Let us explain the situation instead.

Mao: Well... You see—

Mao&Leo TL: Peace

Eichi TL: Ash

Midori TL: me

JP Proof: 310mc

ENG proof:ryuseipuka

←previous →next

[tsuki-sennin]

Today we get to (maybe) finally learn a little something about Empress Underg! Yeah, about time, am I right? What exactly inspires so much fear from her minions and yet such unwavering loyalty from Skearhead? What could she have possibly wanted from Elle before? And why does she now seek the Pretty Cure's demise? ...only one of these questions will probably be answered, but hey~!

Spoilers, I guess...

-Shalala Real!

-Ahhhhh, Tsubasa's got the secret to perpetual motion in his lap.

-Ahhhhh, I see. It reverses destruction itself, does it?

-Purifcation~!

-Ohhhhhh

-Oh, that's not a good sign.

-Shalala's gonna be our twist villain, isn't she?

-If I had a nickle for everytime a PreCure series I watched had its real main villain be a high-ranking knight... Actually, I'd probably have several nickles. Y'know, with Butler, Fennel, Joker if you wanna be technical on what a knight is, Kawarino if you also wanna be technical on what qualifies as a main villain... Bah, whatever, point of this scene is!

-Research binges pay off, Tsubasa-kun!

-Ageha's taking you out shopping~!

-Oh... oh wow, you're... hella gorgeous. Goddamn, you've got hips for days.

-And yet Miss Sky Blue Sapphic herself seems to take little notice...

-"These 18-19 year old clothes sure are conveniently fitting on my 30 something frame."

-Absolutely wild that this actual goddamn robot's treated so casually, but uh

-Well, I don't mind too much, this isn't the cyberpunk/psychic powers 2020s I was promised.

-And here Sora sits... alone.

-Not even noticing our dear Mashiron...

-A chance to stretch with the Captain~!

-Into the bushes with you!

-"I suppose a lie's a little too much for a pure-hearted hero-type."

-A moment's hesitation... and all her questions rise to the surface.

-"I'll find my own answer."

-I love how gently the music comes in, only to stop just the same way.

-"I get that. This is my reason though..."

-Introspectiooooooooon~!

-She got you there, Tsubasa-kun.

-The resolve to find that answer's been found!

-Farewell, Shalala!

-...so uh... is nobody gonna accompany her, or...?

-No, okay, that's fine!

-You're finally getting some sunshine, boy!

-Oh fuck, Skearhead.

-Ah, yep~! There it is~!

-"Hmph. Suppose I'll try something simpler this time. Kyoborg! Style on those impudent children."

-If this were anybody but Skeebo, I'd say he did this on accident.

-OH

-OKAY HJKLH

-"Yeah, go talk about this with Skearhead!"

-Good job, Wing-kun!

-Ikki ni ikuze! ...w-wait, no...

-We're gonna fuckin' throw her!

-Fly, Sky~!

-Right outta the sky!

-He can't be all bad with love on his side, right?

-"And?"

-Did your trainer only teach you Shadow Ball, Skeebo?

-Oh, he's doing this Freeza style.

-"This isn't your problem anymore, Cure Sky. The dead have no worries left. Nice job, idiot."

-Naivety becomes her heroic strength.

-Hirogaruuuuu... Sky Punch~!

-"Ohhhhhhh, that's not good."

-Wow, he just noped right out of there.

-Didn't even stay for the finisher.

-...sound tactical move, actually. He avoids the lecture and reports back to the Empress in record time.

-He might have a reason... but is that reason really so good he'd hurt innocent people?

-And still we're not even an inch closer to knowing the truth of Empress Underg...

-The Shalala Twist angle I'm going for seems like an obvious pick, but there's honestly no real way to speculate on what the Empress's is deal is besides how power-hungry and scawy she allegedly is.

-Battamonda~!

-Again~!

-Oh fuck, he's roided out!

-He's finally having that big final villain battle he always wanted.

-Right, see you next time, I guess~!

[eishtmo]

Why Your Inventory Sucked Part 3

I may complain a lot, but I actually did like my job. And I was pretty damn good at it. I wasn't an ace, super counter, or the greatest supervisor ever, but I was good enough people noticed. Most liked when I was running the crew, or at least seemed to. And I was valued as a counter and a driver. Hell, I knew the software and hardware we used well enough that I was often called on to help find ways around a problem.

I could easily have stayed there for, well, maybe the rest of my life. It wasn't to be. It really just came down to stress. I don't think I made clear earlier how many hours I was working, but there were days when I would leave the house at 2 am, get home at 7 pm and have to go to bed almost immediately to do it again the next day. And this went on for literal years.

I was cooked. Burnt out, fried. I was making more mistakes and feeling more overwhelmed. I tried to get time off, like 2 days in a row time off, and they wouldn't let me. Once I finally gave out, well, it was with rage. I felt bad for my coworkers I left behind because they would work that much harder to make up for me leaving.

It took a month to catch up on my sleep, and now, almost 2 years later, I look back on it and wonder how I manged to do it all and stay sane. The answer, of course, was I couldn't.

PART 3: The Store

Of all the forces that effected an inventory, the store itself was the biggest and most unknown factor. Often I didn't know what was walking into until I walked into it. Oh yes, there are ways to know, pre-inventory calls and visits were a thing, and they were annoying, but they weren't required, or even necessary in some cases.

Still, the store itself is just another work place, it's the people inside that was where the problems came from. And of course I'm not talking about the the workers, I'm talking about the managers.

The main part of my job was to communicate with the managers and let them know what was going on, how we were doing and resolve any issues that came up. In a good store, it was rare that there was an issue and they'd just let me do my job. Sometimes there were issues, they were minor and easily resolved.

Then there are the nitpickers. So many managers wanted things done in particular ways, ways that aren't called for in my instructions or by company policy. I'd try to explain the limits of what could be done, and I could get them to back off, sometimes. Other times. . .

A picky manager is one that can ruin a good working environment. Maybe they want the counters to be neater, maybe they don't like how one of the counters is doing their job, and sometimes they scream about "every dollar" counting. Yes, every dollar counts, but if one dollar is going to make or break your inventory, you've got a lot more problems than my crew.

Getting them to back off is hard and sometimes the only option is to let them have their way, and they still won't be happy.

I hadn't done a Sephora beauty store as a standalone store before, but I was pretty confident I could handle it. When I arrived the store manager had marked out the sections of the store to be counted. Not tagged, that's my job, but broke the store into color coded sections and we were expected to count the store by these sections. Okay, no big deal, it's generally what I would be doing anyway.

So I didn't have a full crew from my office. I had a few people, but the majority had to come from another office. I do not know most of these people, but the way the store is setting up to go, that shouldn't be a big deal. It's all AQ-1, so they'll all go about the same speed. That said, each 4 foot section of makeup has multiple tags, and it's usually not a good idea to squeeze more than one person in each one, even with multiple tags.

So things get started and they seem to be going well. Then one of the counters from the other office finishes his tag, looks at the tags in the area where we're working and comes to the reasonable conclusion that he can't get in there. So he moves to the next section.

The manager and store staff don't like this. Their color coded section isn't done yet, and we can't move on to the next one. NOW, had they come to me about this, I likely could have calmed them down by pointing out that there was no room and we were about to move to the next color section as a group anyway and by the time he's done with the tag, we probably would be.

Of course they didn't. They confronted the counter first. And apparently he's the kind of person that when faced with confrontation, he responds with confrontation. Suddenly there's a yelling match. I'm caught completely off guard, no idea this is even happening as I'm doing other stuff.

The next thing I know, the store manager is demanding this counter be removed from the count. So I try to figure out what the hell just happened, look for a way to back down and can't find one, and finally I'm forced to remove him from the store. Which annoys the driver of the van, who promptly, in the MIDDLE of the store, calls THEIR boss to complain, who now calls me.

So now the guest crew is all pissed off, the store manager is still pissed, I'm pissed because I just got blindsided by this mess AND have to deal with the other crew's boss who's trying to tell me "we don't do that" when, no, YOU don't do that, WE do.

There's a couple places to leave notes at the end of the inventory. One is very small, the other is quite large. I told whoever is filling out the survey at the end that the box is for high praise or high damnation. Guess which one this store manager used? I never read it, it's something I learned to not do after doing this job after many years, it would just make me angry.

Audits are the main way that we can keep tabs on how the counters are doing. One might think audits are about finding mistakes, and most store staff does think that. But that's not actually the point of doing audits.

The thing is that counters make mistakes. We are human after all, miscounts, miss scans, and even missed shelves happen. The point of audits is to find out if counters aren't doing their jobs. Are they scanning one item on a shelf and counting everything? Maybe they are just inputing random numbers into the scanner? Perhaps they keyed in the item numbers for a bunch of molding in a hardware store, but they keyed it wrong so instead of 100 pieces of molding, the counted 100 saw blades? Yes, that happened. Scan first, key only as a last resort.

But store staff when they get to auditing doesn't quite understand that. They see a mistake and then they start looking for more. They're going to make the count perfect, damn it. Well, they can try anyway. The thing is there's always required amount of audits that need to be done. Sometimes it's a set list of generated tags, sometimes it's a percentage of the tags, and maybe only a percentage of each of those tags. Keeping them on task is a great amount of what I do running an inventory.

Auditors make mistake too. Sometimes the very mistakes they're supposed to be hunting for, they make. At a Pink store (it's branch of Victoria's Secret, just more clothes and less panties), my counter did a rail of dresses on the wall, and scanned each of the 16 pieces there just like they were supposed to. The auditor, however, grabbed the first dress and scanned it 16 times. It was obvious, so I had to reject the audit and bring the audit crew back so I could remind them what to do.

Often though, the auditors try to fix the entire tag. Thing is, that never works out. It took my counter 15 minutes to count that section, but it'll take an auditor an hour to go through the entire section. In the meantime that counter has done at least 4 more tags, and if the audit is excessively bad, which the auditor will claim even if it's not true, then the other tags will have to be audited, or if they have to be removed then those tags all have to be recounted! It's why only a percentage of the tag needs to be audited, because if it's bad, we can see it pretty quickly. If it's just not good, then we can coach and move on.

Sometimes a store thinks it can save the inventory if they just audit a few more tags. . .

I was in a franchise gas station which has it's own quirks. The main one being that the parent company pays for the inventory, and however much the store is short, the franchisee has to pay. In cash. So they're pretty sensitive to large shrinks.

I didn't have a great crew, kind of mediocre honestly, but I made point of doing the more sensitive stuff, mostly the cooler. Well low and behold, the inventory comes up something like $11k short, which for a gas station is stupidly high. So the store manager (who is not the franchisee, the franchisee was never in the store) grabs the audit tablet to see if he can find the missing money.

In the candy section.

Unless my counter missed the ENTIRE candy section, there's no way that money is there. And yes, mistakes were going to be found, my counters aren't super great. So congrats you found about 100 bucks worth of missing candy. Now, where do we look for the other $10,900 dollars?

After talking the manager down, we look at things a bit more clearly and figure it out. About a week earlier, someone walked in the door of the store, walked behind the register and grabbed two full BOXES of cigarettes. Not cartons, BOXES, you know, holding like 25 plus cartons. Well, there's your problem. Still he thinks the counters were bad and the inventory is bad. Not that it matters, the next time I do the store, the franchisee is selling back to the parent company.

So there was going to be another section here, but this is getting long and I will be talking EXTENSIVELY about the next section, so I'll leave it at this for the time being.

Next time: The real reason your inventory sucked.

[doberbutts]

Oh yeah I should clarify that I was taught that transmisogyny is the intersection of transphobia and misogyny that affects all transgender people (because we are all affected by both transphobia and misogyny) by a trans woman who mentored me throughout my college years and even wrote my letter for transition, which the Obama administration then made it not necessary for me to utilize in order to transition.

Which is why this whole TME/TMA thing was so bizarre to me when I first heard about it, because that’s definitely not what I was taught back in 2011 and I continue to be really confused as to why we’re still having this conversation we had over a decade ago.

Now that being said, it seems like the general consensus is that transmisogyny is the specific intersection of transphobia and misogyny that relates to trans women and trans femininity, and I have no problem with that specification as long as we recognize that like all oppression named or otherwise, a significant portion of it relates to strengthening the status quo by heavily policing anyone who steps a toe out of line, such as cis black women constantly being accused of being men out of fear that they are trans women and as a way to shame and discredit them, and intersex black women cis or otherwise being kept from competing as professional athletes. Being forced to lower your natural testosterone that is produced within your body by itself with no supplementation or else being banned from being classified as women does not stop being transmisogynistic just because it’s happening to a cis woman. Being forced to submit to genital checks prior to entry to a bathroom or locker room doesn’t stop being transmisogynistic just because it’s happening to a cis woman. A rule created to harm trans women doesn’t stop being hurtful to the cis women it also harms.

But then if we say that transmisogyny is specific to trans women, we cannot be upset that there are people looking to discuss the way the intersection of transphobia and misogyny relates to trans masculinity and trans neutrality as well, because we still all experience an intersection of transphobia and misogyny. So if we cannot use one word to describe what is happening to us, (general) you cannot be surprised that we’re coming up with different words to use instead. Especially not when in addition to being told we can’t use transmisogyny anymore (which, again, I was taught to by a trans woman who I sat and had lunch with several days per week), we’re also battered with people telling us that we can’t use misogyny at all, that we’re not affected by or exposed to misogyny at all, and we can’t really call it transphobia because it’s not that bad, and as a matter of fact we’re not even really oppressed so do we really even need to talk about it, really we should just get over our victim complexes and sit down and shut up and let the more important people talk- And at this point it’s pretty obvious what’s happening here.

Sorry. Tangent. Anyway TL;DR I don’t know currently if I agree or disagree but I do think that continuing to fight and quibble and attack each other over semantics when it does nothing to resolve the actual problems within our community is not helping. I was mentored during a time when transsexual was still in common enough use that my mentor was calling herself that, the asterisk on trans* was still in common use, JKR hadn’t yet revealed herself to be a massive TERF, Irreversible Damage wasn’t even written yet, and you needed to be independently wealthy or really know how to lie to insurance and doctors in order to medically transition at all. The world has changed so much in the last 12 years and I think a lot of the people having these arguments flat out do not remember what the world looked like back then or have so much trauma about that time that they don’t realize they’re hurting others as a means of coping with their own unresolved trauma. 

I know @doberbutts has mentioned a few times how he was taught that "transmisogny" was a term to be applied to all trans people, & honestly I do enjoy using transmisogny to describe the mixture of transphobia & misogyny which connects trans* liberation with women's liberation. especially when we acknowledge that "transmisogny" doesn't just look one way, and interpret the treatment of trans men under misogyny.

I think there's also use in having transmisogny (as transphobia targeting transfems) and transandrophobia/transmisandry/anti-transmasculinity), but I think the above use of transmisogny is also a good way of like. Unifying trans* experiences across the spectrum & also making a connection to how the patriarchy functions in general (specifically thinking about how @nothorses has talked about misogyny being tied to so much gender discrimination outside of just (cis) women)

But also. it makes me laugh knowing that that definition would still piss off so many people. Especially applied to trans men. There is no winning lol

[moonlit-reveriee]

Baby Blue

technoblade x fem!reader

concept: techno is scared of ‘corrupting’ the reader, but the reader’s kinda into it...

content warning // NSFW, virgin!reader, very minor angst?, small argument that gets resolved

listen to this while you read: BBBlue (Single) by Olivver the Kid

(this fic was heavily inspired by the lyrics of this song, so i highly recommended giving it a listen!)

───※ ·❆· ※───

When Techno found out you were a virgin, he was terrified. Not necessarily of the thought itself, but of the implications.

He’d never forget the look on your face when you told him. You tried to be casual about it, but he knew you well enough to spot the dusting of pink across your cheeks. You nuzzled yourself closer into his side. Whether out of embarrassment or something else entirely, he couldn’t tell. All he could feel was his heart dropping as the voices chanted at him to “ruin her”

Of course you, his pure sweet angel, would be a virgin. He once again crumbled under the idea that you had chosen him. How on earth could a person like you even think of being with a beast like him. Yet alone, giving up your virginity to him.

He hated how horribly turned on he was by the thought of taking it.

The voices had been relentless about it ever since. They were hyper focused on your every move, twisting every thought of his into something promiscuous. When you rolled out of bed in the morning and stretched, a small sigh escaping your lips, it was endless cries of “make her do that again” “you should fuck those moans out of her” “make her scream”

While making breakfast together in the morning, they wouldn’t stop telling him to “bend her over the counter” “take it right here”

Even at times where he was alone, the voices preoccupied him with endless thoughts of you. He was fairly certain they had forced him to imagine every possible way in which he could have you. “imagine fucking her against the wall” “you can be gentle for the first time y’know” “she’d feel so good writhing underneath us” “press her face into the mattress instead” “make her get on her knees and suck you off” “she’ll be such a pretty little slut for us”

He tried to take care of himself as often as he could, but it was becoming impossible to keep up with. There were only so many times a day he could jerk himself off alone behind locked doors. He was desperate, and sexually frustrated to say the least.

He felt disgusting for it.

After a week of this torment, he could barely even look at you yet alone touch you without the voices and his own guilt pounding against his skull. You couldn’t even think about broaching the subject again, because he was avoiding physical contact like the plague. He wouldn’t come to bed until he knew you were asleep, and would leave long before you woke.

As much as he tried to hide it, you could tell he was tired. Something was wrong, but you knew that he’d never just tell you about his problems unprompted. Techno was insufferably stubborn in that way. After several days of avoiding your gaze and leaning away from your touch, you chose to confront him.

“Techno”, you called for his attention quietly, trying to sound stern while remaining gentle with him. He didn’t turn to fully face you, but he glanced at the spot on the wall just above your head.

You struggled to find the words you wanted to say, so you settled on telling him, “Techno, you look tired.”

He turned his attention away from you. “Just a lot of work around the house this week. I’ll be fine after I rest.”

“Then come to bed with me.” You saw the way his body tensed and tilted away from you at that simple suggestion.

“I just need to write a couple letters first. You can go ahead of me.”

“Techno...”, you whined, daring to take a step closer to him. He gave you an almost panicked look, “why does it feel like you’ve been avoiding me?”

“I haven’t been avoiding you”, he responded quickly, trying to look through you instead of at you.

“Yes you have”, you responded firmly. A flash of guilt washed over his face at your tone. “You haven’t kissed or touched me for nearly a week now. I don’t even know for sure if you sleep in the same bed as me anymore. Fuck, you barely even talk to me.”

Angry tears threatened to spill down your cheeks, but you wanted to hold them in. Techno felt his chest tighten at the sight of it. He instinctively turned and reached out to comfort you, but forced himself to freeze.

“There”, you said, gesturing towards him, “just like that. You’re stopping yourself. Why are you doing that?”

He repeatedly opened and closed his fists at his side, wanting to have any conversation other than this one.

“[y/n], there’s just a lot going on in my mind right now”, he said. It wasn’t a complete lie. “I just need to work though it.”

“Then let me help you.”

“No”, he responded a little too quickly, “I- I mean, I just don’t want to talk about it with you yet...”

“Why not?”, you retorted, trying to squeeze any information you could out of him.

“I just don’t, okay? It’s uncomfortable, I don’t want to talk about it yet.”

“... is this about me being a virgin?”

“I never said that”, he replied, but the tension in his shoulders was enough to tip you off.

“Ah geez Technoblade, if it was that much of a problem for ya, you should have just told me”, you said sarcastically, “instead of avoiding all physical contact for a like week straight!”

“It’s not a problem, [y/n].”

“Certainly doesn’t feel that way.”

Techno huffed in frustration, grabbing a fistful of his hair at the root. He wasn’t sure if he was more upset with himself, or the fact that a few of the voices were still begging him to “please fuck her already”

“Love, I wasn’t avoiding you because I didn’t want it. They”, he tapped a finger against the side of his skull, “they want it so badly. It’s driving me insane.”

He breathed in and out shakily, trying to gauge your expression in the brief moments before he continued.

“I’m a monster. I’ve spilt more blood than anyone every should in a single lifetime. My appearance is more beast than man.”

He looked up briefly to find you staring right at him, a tight-lipped frown upon your face.

“What does that have to do with any of this?”

“I- ... I don’t want to corrupt your innocence”, he admitted.

“What on earth do you mean by that?”

“[y/n], you’re so perfect”, he answered almost breathlessly, “you’re so kind and so pure. Just living with me does enough to taint your reputation, I don’t wanna-“

He cut himself off to swallow thickly. He almost seemed scared of the words he was going to say next.

“I don’t want to ruin this part of you either...”

A heavy silence filled the tiny sitting room of techno’s cottage. In those few seconds, your eyes widened ever so slightly as his words suddenly clicked in your mind. This hulking boar of a man, an undisputed war criminal, was scared. He was scared of damaging you, your reputation, or your recently revealed ‘innocence’. Compared to himself, he saw you as a pure being who could be tainted by unwholesome thoughts.

If what he said about the voices was true, then his actions of the past few days would’ve made sense for him.

“Oh techno...”, you muttered softly, tentatively placing a hand on his jaw. His posture was curled inward, making him look small despite his size. He was stiff at first, but allowed you to lift his gaze to meet yours. He searched your eyes desperately for an indication of your reaction. You gave him a reassuring smile.

“Do you remember when we first met?”

A small wave of confusion washed over his face, but he nodded anyways. “It was at the festival...”

“That’s right”, you said, moving the hand on his face down to rest over his shoulder, “and do you remember what I did that day?”

“You threw an axe into Schlatt’s shoulder”, he answered, watching as the scene played out in his memory.

You lived with Niki in her bakery at the time, and witnessed firsthand the injustice she faced during Schlatt’s presidency. As the chaos after Tubbo’s execution occurred, you took the opportunity to hurl your axe where Schlatt stood upon his podium. The blow wasn’t fatal, but that wasn’t necessarily your goal. You just wanted to see the man in pain.

“It was a lucky shot really”, you admitted, “I wasn’t even aiming properly.” That managed to draw a small smile onto Techno’s lips.

“And do you remember”, you continued, “when I tried to confront the Butcher Army by myself?”

He grimaced at the thought. You had told him you just needed to make a quick trip to L’manburg for some supplies, leaving him at home alone to recover from the previous day’s events. You returned that evening with a sprained wrist and a couple large bruises forming on your body. None of them were trying to kill you, but you took a pretty good beating from Quackity just for trying to confront them.

“Why are you bringing all of this up now?”, he asked.

“Because”, you said, “this is the evidence that will support my next point.”

He looked bewildered by that statement, but continued to listen.

“I’m not a perfect person”, you resumed, “I have blood on my hands just like you do. I know it’s hard to compare to you, but I’m not devoid of my own sins. I can be mean, I’ve hurt people. I’m not a pure, angelic being who would quiver at a single inappropriate thought. I think you forget that sometimes.”

He let your words swirl around in his head; he couldn’t deny the logic in them. The evidence prevented him from denying the truth of your statement. He could almost be mad that you’d talked him into a corner, but he was more overjoyed at the fact that you knew him well enough to do so.

“And you know...”, you spoke quietly, letting your hand fall down to rest on his chest, “if you did somehow ‘corrupt my innocence’ as you say... I really wouldn’t mind that.”

Techno’s breath hitched in his throat. There were a brief few moments, maybe minutes, where he just stared at you. Then his lips were on yours; sudden and clumsy, but passionate. You gripped the fabric of his shirt as he grabbed at your waist, desperate to have you in his arms again.

“I’m sorry, I had to”, he muttered, his lips left hovering a hair’s breadth away from yours.

“You’re so silly sometimes”, you sighed affectionately, rubbing small circles into his collarbone. He gave you a gentle smirk before pressing another kiss into your lips.

“I’m sorry darling, I really am”, he said as he drew you into a tight hug. He took in your scent and the feel of your skin for the first time in days. It felt like he could survive off the feeling of your arms wrapped around his body alone. He wondered why he ever let himself be depraved of this.

“You know I trust you, right?”, you spoke with your face pressed into his chest.

“I’m not sure why, but yes.”

You decided not to reprimand him for saying that. You could help him unpack all that later. Instead, you brought your head up to whisper in his ear.

“You have my full and unconditional consent to take my virginity whenever you’re ready.”

Techno inhaled and held his breath, though for what, he wasn’t sure. It took a while for the full weight of those words to sink in. He leaned back to stare at your face, bringing one of his large and shaky hands up to cup your cheek.

“Are you sure?”, his eyes were wide with trepidation, practically pleading with you to tell him the truth. You leaned into his palm, indulging in the feeling of his skin on yours.

“I want you, techno. I’ll wait as long as you need me to.”

Techno was lost in your words. The sudden absence of guilt left his heart light and airy in his chest. For the first time in days, the voices were only a gentle murmur.

“she’s so beautiful” “she wants you” “make her feel good” “show her how special she is” “make her smile” “she’ll be so pretty” “she’s always pretty” “be gentle, no need to rush”

“make love to her”

“... I think I’m ready now.”

───※ ·❆· ※───

ayyyy guess who finally finished writing something!!!

parts of this feel a little rushed but ehhhhhh i was just excited to finally post it. i looove writing techno as an extremely self-conscious character who’s too caught up in their own head to see how ridiculous they’re being. so, this was a treat for me to write

i hope you enjoyed :D

-moonlight

[dourpeep]

you asked for albedo stuff yesterday and i forgot to give you some 🥲 here

-Albedo bites the ends of his pencil/pen while in deep thought

-He covers his mouth while laughing

-His hair is a huge problem to becoming messy so he usually keeps it in one style bc he sucks at styling hair

-I believe he would hyperfocus on a meal until he starts to hate it and goes onto another

-Probably sleeps on his back or stomach

-Quietly sings to himself when he's alone doing experiments

-his hands are probably soft as hell

-he probably bounces his leg when stressed

-I cant decide whether or not he's always cold or always hot (wearing his jacket everywhere but seems fine at dragonspine??)

-would break klee out of jail

-he always tries to have at least one meal with klee

WAIT SHIT I FORGOT ABOUT THIS--

definitely a pleasant surprise nodnod always a treat to have more Albedo, thank you for the food, Chi OTL

I'll write a little about each one b/c I have no self control and I'm feeling inspired by ur headcanons so lets goooooo ehehehe

They'll be a mix between imagines and drabbles!

Enjoy the food :3c

Contains: Albedo x gn!Reader, some standalone Albedo, Klee, fluff

-

- Breaking Habits -

"Albedo? You're doing it again-"

He blinks, shifting to remove the tip of his pencil from his lips, frowning when little indents come into view.

"Hm...it appears to be so."

Really, the Chief Alchemist has tried to wean himself off the habit, taking to coating the butt ends of his writing utensils with a horrid concoction of qingxin and jueyun chili, but the moment he slips into his usual daily tasks, it arises once more. The bitter spiciness is a taste that he still has not forgotten.

When his brows crease and his gaze seems to burn into the pencil, you offer a smile. With a kiss pressed to his temple, you take it from his loose grasp, setting it down on the table's surface.

A few weeks later, it dawns on him that the touch of wood to his lips evokes the memory of your gentle reminder. Without fail, he sets his pencil down in search of a sweet to busy himself with instead.

- His Laugh -

I can just imagine him with his hand lifted to cover his mouth, a smile tugging at his lips and his eyes slightly squinted. It's something that'd happen almost instantaneously--he doesn't intend to hide his smile but for some reason he can't help but do it.

An endearing habit that you've come to look for.

Regardless-

If you lower his hand and pepper him with a few little kisses, you'll get another giggle out of him before a kiss.

- Hairstyles -

Albedo only knows two ways to do hair: Klee's twin pigtails and his own half-up braid.

Over the past three years of his residency in Mond, it's become a sort of trademark. The assumption that it's just how he likes to style his hair has long since been accepted as truth--and really, he does prefer the style.

Though...

"Mr Albedo? Perhaps you should try to tie it all up instead...?"

The stray wisps of bangs that escape from the securely tied braid fall into his face and distract him from the task at hand. There's also the ever-present tickle right where the blond locks fall around his jaw. Surely, this shouldn't prove to be a problem considering he always has this style...right?

Needless to say, the smell of singed hair makes him choke and the Alchemist finds himself pulling away to tie his hair properly.

It's simple.

Or at least that's what he has been stuck repeating like a mantra as he stares at his reflection, unhappy with the way there's a strange bit of hair that refuses to stay tied. Sighing, he undoes his pony tail and tries again.

Hm.

No, now it's lopsided...certainly can't have that.

- Mealtime -

First, two little ears peek up above the surface of the counter besides him. Then, two little eyes belonging to a stuff rabbit toy followed by a red hat--

"Klee?"

The little girl stares at the fish steaks sizzling away on the pan, displeasure on her features despite the incredibly enticing smell. With unmatched resolve, she huffs.

"Big brother, Klee doesn't want fish again-"

Ah, right.

He's been in another of those moods, the particular taste and texture of the fish mingling with the salted butter, simple sauce, and lightly seasoned veggies sounding so much more appealing compared to nearly any other dish he's tried to enjoy in the past two weeks. It's without a doubt Albedo's all-time favorite dish. Perfect for someone with a small appetite and a need for something quick, filling, and nutritious.

"What would you like then?"

Ultimately (and truly, Albedo wasn't surprise), the little knight requested a serving of 'Fishy Toast'. Cutting up one of the fillets he'd fried, he laughs and shakes his head.

- Sleep Time -

When you come home, it's already dark, the streetlamps lining the cobbled road illuminating the front door as you fish out your key.

"Albedo? I'm back-"

Soft snoring punctuates the silence.

With a fond smile, you remove your shoes and make your way to the make-shift 'sleep station' set up on the couch. Sure enough, with his face shoved at an awkward angle against a pillow, Albedo lays on his stomach holding a second pillow to his chest.

As much as you'd rather not wake him (after all, he's barely gotten sleep over the past few days with how busy it's been), you kneel besides the couch to gently shake him awake.

"Bedo? Bedo, lets go to bed-"

He shoves his face further into his pillow, muttering something about waiting for results. But the silence that follows only lasts so long until he sighs and opens his bleary eyes.

"Welcome home," he mumbles, carefully shuffling best he can closer to meet your lips.

With a stretch and sigh, he sits up. Blond hair sticks up from the top of his head and to his cheek, some parts tangled despite his attempts to prevent it--your hair shouldn't tangle if you sleep on your stomach, right?

Holding back your laugh, you help him up so that the two of you can get ready to sleep.

- Singing -

Most often if not nearly each day, if you pass by the Favonius HQ's workshop, you might catch the soft sound of singing. A light sound that drifts from the partly-cracked door echoes into the empty hallway. Regardless of the traffic outside, it shows no sign of stopping, so you easily can sit right outside and listen.

It's not shy, though, even as the man's dulcet tone comes out gently, and there are days that the lyrics that slip from his tongue are of other regions.

Perhaps if you ever approach the Chief Alchemist, you might be able to convince him to sing just a short little tune. He'll oblige, though a soft dusting of pink will cover his cheeks as he does.

- Hands -

"My hands?"

Albedo watches as you tug off his gloves, head cocked to the side curiously. The moment his hands are free from their confines, you press a kiss to his palm and intertwine your fingers.

"Do you use lotion or something?"

He laughs.

"...Not that I am aware of...?"

When you squeeze his hand once, he squeezes yours back three times before bringing your joined hand to his cheek. Resting against them, his eyes close.

"Why do you ask?"

He feels you take his other hand as well, turning it over palm-side up, your fingertips tracing over the lines that adorn it's surface.

The tenderness of your touch is enough to make his heart stutter in his chest.

"Mmm...no reason."

- Leg Bouncing -

Whenever Albedo bounces his leg sitting at the Dragonspine workshop, a curse or two will slip out the moment his knee bangs against the wood.

Even being considered short, the table has decided to lay just low enough for him to cause minor injury to himself.

Shaking his head, he rubs at his knee to rid himself of the dull ache before continuing his observations at hand.

- His Jacket -

Wait okay but like...what if he actually has different versions of the same jacket? They look virtually the same but there's some of lighter material for warmer days, 'standard' ones for day-to-day use, and heavier ones lined with warm, soft fabric to insulate heat when he's on Dragonspine.

Same with his tights. I do know for a fact that there are tights lined with fleece that are incredibly warm and comfortable!!

- Escapees -

"You need to be very quiet, alright?"

Once more in the dark of the night, Albedo finds himself awake within the walls of the Favonius Headquarters.

Now...Klee technically wasn't grounded, so technically escorting her out of the so called 'solitary confinement' wasn't against any rule. To be fair, the room itself also wasn't really that either, judging by the child-themed decor, soft bed, books littering the floor, and the little table that sits just off to the opposite side of the room.

So! Albedo was certain that there wasn't any harm in what he was doing.

Not that he wasn't still sneaking around on his little improvised rescue mission.

He looks back to Klee, the little girl now wide awake and hanging on to his hand tightly.

When the morning comes, he sighs, crouched sitting on one of the child-sized chairs in the solitary confinement room, Klee peacefully snoozing in bed.

If only Jean wasn't pulling an all-nighter last night as well.

- Very Early Breakfasts -

Klee wakes up to the smell of sweet berry jam and chocolate in the air.

Clumsily, she slips out from under the covers with Dodoco cradled in her arms, padding along the wooden floors on her way to the kitchen.

"Big brother...?" She rubs the sleep from her eyes waiting for him to turn around.

"Oh, good morning Klee-"

"What time is it?"

That, Albedo decided, was a very good question. Especially considering that he hadn't yet gone to sleep and instead shuffled through the kitchen in the early hours of the day to make pancakes. If he had to guess--and he took a quick peek out the window despite the darkness of the early morning lending no clue--he'd say it was nearing 4am.

"Early. Go ahead and sit down, breakfast is almost ready."

The plate is presented to her with a brilliant smile, the Chief Alchemist satisfied to be able to keep his promise with her to always share a meal. But...the fluffy pancakes and freshly made whipped cream were also a source of his brightened mood.

Even though he knew he'd have no time to sleep and pack for his next Dragonspine expedition, the lack of sleep was worth seeing the sudden widening of eyes and delighted giggle from his younger sibling.

He could always take a quick nap at the base camp, anyway.

[idleglowingpixels]

(I just wanted to add on this cause I've watched both and I actually started rewatching Rise so here we go)

Leo and Blossom are definitely two sides of the same coin with leader writing; both kids (tho different demographics ofc) leading their siblings to fight crime and stuff, but both have different issues when rebooted that recent reboots tend to resolve (or break).

Blossom is definitely the Puff that gets rewritten the most, and I think it's because people seem to take the "Oh well uh, she's the leader" and apply that as her defining character trait instead of her being a smart, kindhearted kid that won't let you take advantage of her (iirc Bubs and Buttercup got manipulated by villains a lot more than she did (mostly Bubbles </3)). She's not just "the leader," she's a problem-solver who likes to read and learn new languages, she's a good kid, "everything nice;" the most level-headed and least likely to lose control of herself, and her part in the team is to keep her sisters from losing their cool too. But there are times she does lose her cool, and it's usually to make someone in her life happy (like the father's day episode, she committed a crime and lied about it because she didn't have money (she's 5) but knew the professor would love it, even though he'd love anything she'd make or gift him for the occasion). She's a really 3D character especially for how much character growth she had.

The whole thing about the PPG2016 writers writing her to be Lisa Simpson is definitely apparent, and it's a damn shame. PPG2016 had a lot of missed potential, especially with some of the new villains it introduced, but completely dropped the ball with the characters that matter the most; the actual protagonists people went to see. I also like Z (never finished it but I do want to someday), but like previously stated, Momoko wasn't trying to be a 1:1 with Blossom. For goodness sake, the girls aren't even actual sisters in Z! Z is just a complete reinterpretation of the series that was intended for eastern audiences at the time. Bloss suffers from having too drastic a change in character every time the show's rebooted.

Leonardo, on the other hand, for the most part is just the leader. Compared to his brothers (Mikey's the fun one, Donnie's the smart one, Raph's the angry one), he doesn't really have anything going for him in most iterations other than keeping his brothers in check; he does get some characterization but not much. Rise Leo though is a character in a completely different ballpark from his predecessors; he's cocky and a pretty big egotist who thinks he's better than a lot of people at the start, including his brothers. Raph's the leader for a vast majority of the series because Splinter knows Leo is too immature and reckless to be the leader, where Raph is the most levelheaded, mainly cause Eldest Sibling Syndrome (he still has a short temper). But when Raph cracks under the pressure, Leo steps up and that's why he gets the leadership title. I haven't seen Mutant Mayhem yet so I can't speak for that Leo, but I can definitely say Rise Leo was a breath of fresh air when it came to revitalizing his character.

Where Leo really needed the change in order to become a well-rounded character that earns his leadership role and has more to him than that, Blossom is & was a well-rounded character already. Rise also was trying to separate itself from other iterations of the turtles, but PPG2016 wanted to "expand" on what the original series had, and set it in the same universe instead of just soft-resetting like most reboots do. Tbh I'd hardly call PPG2016 a revival, especially with how inconsistent the characters are.

I never considered the comparison to how drastic change can be good and bad between these two, but it's an interesting observation and a great starting point to an analysis!

I was thinking about how PPG and TMNT, they have so much similarities especially the main heroes, and it just occurs to me how they take the character Leo (who is the most similar to Blossom) and make him drastically different in Rise, the close comparison to it is like Z Momoko. I would not be happy if they turn Blossom to be like Rise Leo, or if she just ends up being Momoko again. Weirdly enough I wasn’t too bothered with Rise version of Leo, I was afraid it might be internalized misogyny in me, but someone told me its because Leo’s characterization has been very consistent throughout the years whilst Blossom have not. Though its hilarious to think what Blossom would be like if he got Rise Leo’s personality. Blossom would be written more consistently (by other writers) if she’s a male character I feel.

Also I disagree with characters needing to call their parental figures mom/dad, they did call the Prof dad a few times, but calling him “professor” is just more iconic. He doesn’t need to be called “dad” to be their dad

Re: the first part of your ask… yeah, I really don’t know why Blossom is just misunderstood and written so poorly when it comes to these reboots. At least the PPGZ version of the character wasn’t meant to actually be Blossom, but her own character entirely (just taking bits and pieces of inspiration from the original). The 2016 reboot should have been clear in distancing itself from both of those versions if it was going to change how the character acted, not like… meld them together and, on top of that, also change her to act like Lisa Simpson (which IIRC was a real thing the writers admitted doing, because one or two of them had wanted to work on The Simpsons or something…like, don’t screw around with the characters of one show because you didn’t get your dream job, maybe do the best job you can with the characters you were hired to write about instead of signaling that you’d rather be working on something else 🫤).

…anyway, yeah, girlie can’t catch a break. 😩

[immaturityofthomasastruc]

IOTA Reviews: Rocketear

The Rocketeer is a 1991 Disney movie set in 1930's America where a test pilot gets a jetpack and uses it to fight Nazis and— Wait, what? “Rocketear”? Oh, damn it!

Let's get into the eleventh (chronologically the seventeenth) episode of Miraculous Ladybug's fourth season: Rocketear.

We start off with Carapace and Cat Noir struggling to hold back some T-Rexes brought back to life by a scientist Jurassic Park style. Seriously, they reference the movie in the same scene.

Why wasn't this the plot of the episode again?

After managing to tame the dinosaurs with a whistle of all things, Ladybug notices something's wrong with Nino after he gives the Turtle Miraculous back to her. Apparently, he's wondering why Rena Rouge (who he knows is Alya) wasn't recruited with him today. Ladybug tells him that he was the only help she needed today. In reality, it's because Alya has adjusted to her new role of supporting Ladybug behind the scenes in her new form, Rena Furtive.

And I'm not a fan of the new form. I get the camo, but it doesn't really help her blend in when her suit is bright blue. I think it's based off the arctic fox, but that animal is able to camouflage itself because it's fur matches the snowy environment. I'm sure a bright blue jumpsuit won't stand out when she tries to blend in at all. Also, the fact that Alya can just change her hero form gives even less excuses as to why Ladybug's new form is only when she uses her Lucky Charm.

Alya is struggling to keep this a secret from Nino because they don't have a lot of secrets in their relationship. Marinette says she can kind of get it because she had to keep her identity a secret from her friend and has to keep keeping her identity a secret from everyone else. Basically, she's telling Alya to suck it up because this is what being a superhero is.

So the next time she sees Nino, Alya tells him she's no longer Rena Rouge, but not about Rena Furtive, which troubles her. The very next scene shows Alya showing Marinette pictures she took of her new costume and asking her which version looks better.

You could always try reviewing Akuma fights. I heard there's one blog that does it when they're not criticizing the famous director Thomas Astruc on social media.

Yeah, in case you can't tell, Alya was only able to rent her brain for a few episodes because she really doesn't seem as understanding about being a superhero as she was in earlier episodes. In episodes like “Optigami” and “Sentibubbler”, we saw Alya use more strategy and show discretion as Rena Rouge, seemingly taking her job more seriously, but then this episode just had to go and piss it all away. I also love how the first time the animators made Alya's skin the same when she's transformed is in a single frame for a joke.

Alya thankfully deletes the picture, but Nino overhears her talking about struggling to find more content for the Ladyblog, and decides to go to the movies with her to help take her mind off things. Nino, in turn, proceeds to give the same reaction to the in-universe Ladybug movie that Astruc gives to the PV.

Apparently, that movie's already getting a sequel and it has a teaser. So was the sequel animated at the same time as the original like Back to the Future Part II and Back to the Future Part III?

Nino gets pissed the next movie in the Ladybug Cinematic Universe will feature Rena Rouge and not Carapace... even though Rena Rouge debuted first. The teaser then shows Rena Rouge falling for Cat Noir (yet another creative liberty taken by the writers or something Astruc's self-insert threw in himself), and takes it like it's the real thing. Dude, the first movie said Ladybug was afraid of cats, and the director yelled at the person it was based on for judging it. He clearly has a hard time distinguishing fiction from reality.

Alya leaves Nino early so she can go on patrol, but Nino sees Cat Noir heading out as well. He then watches a video on the Ladyblog where Alya praises Cat Noir which is totally not Astruc projecting or anything.

I don't know what your definition of a prince is, Alya, and I honestly don't want to know.

So Nino takes this as evidence that Alya is in love with Cat Noir and decides to tell Adrien, who naturally laughs him off. And just before you think we have an episode where Adrien plays the straight man, Adrien decides to visit Alya because he's afraid he accidentally charmed Alya.

Yes, because Cat Noir is so charming, girls are just fighting over him, aren't they?

We then cut to a black and white film noir monologue by Nino (dressed like a detective with a fake mustache), who decides to spy on Alya. When Cat Noir asks Alya if she is attracted to him, she naturally laughs him off, though Cat Noir is thankfully a good sport about it, even giving her a hug to apologize. Unfortunately, Nino took this the wrong way.

The next day at school, Nino takes Adrien into his “office” (it's really an excuse to reuse the boiler room setpiece), and shows him the picture of the hug. Adrien says that Alya would never fall for Cat Noir because she's always dedicated to finding out the truth and telling her boyfriend everything. What's Nino's retort?

Okay, several problems with this bit. First of all, why would Nino even tell Adrien any of this? What would it accomplish? Why not say all this to Alya while confronting her about her alleged unfaithfulness? Second, Ladybug didn't give Nino and Alya their Miraculous at the same time until it was an absolute emergency. She outright said in “Hero's Day” that she didn't have time to recruit Nino and Alya separately.

Ladybug: I'm sorry for what I'm about to do. I know I'm revealing your secret identities but I don't have time to find a good excuse to give them to you separately. Rena Rouge and Carapace, I need you both!

Nino and Alya kept their identities secret from each other until then, with Alya even keeping the fact she knew who Carapace was a secret as well. Nino didn't find out because “they don't hide anything from each other” (which I plan to talk about later).

Other than that, I actually liked Adrien in this scene. It was really investing to see him try to justify the whole secret identities rule while Nino blatantly said there was an exception. This is the kind of stuff I wanted to see when it came to Adrien doubting Ladybug, not him destroying things in his anger.

While Nino rants about how Cat Noir “stole” Alya from him, Shadowmoth sends an Akuma his way, turning him into Rocketear.

And the design he has is just boring. It's just a blue jumpsuit with some black spots that look like teardrops, a teardrop-shaped head and a visor. I think the reason this season's been relying more on past Akumas and using more Sentimonsters is because DQ is terrible at character designs. I mean, compare this suit with Aigraon from Zyuden Sentai Kyoryuger (his Power Rangers counterpart is Wrench from Dino Charge).

The design does so much more with the teardrop motif, giving him a perpetually miserable face with tear lines going all over his body. Add that to a more diverse color scheme, and you have a much more visually stunning design. And this was created in real life, not rendered on a computer. I'm not sure if this is a budget thing or a laziness thing, but if it's the former, you really need to do better, animators.

The powers are meh, giving Nino the ability to fling explosive tears at enemies. It's a clever idea, and it makes sense he gets a power that parallels Cat Noir's, but I think maybe it would have been more interesting if he couldn't control the tears at all. Like, imagine if he was constantly crying like Blue Diamond, and with every tear he shed, Rocketeer could send it at whoever he felt was causing him misery, mainly Cat Noir, all while serving as a metaphor for people who blame others for their own personal issues. Better yet, make him look like the detective outfit Nino wore for the second act. It would have made him more unpredictable instead of making his tears generic projectile weapons.

Marinette and Alya see the fight and transform into Ladybug and Rena Furtive respectively, the former summoning her Lucky Charm, a projector. Is it just me, or has this been happening with Ladybug a lot recently?

Back to Rocketear, we get a good moment where Cat Noir intentionally lets the Akuma hit him so he can get a chance to resolve things diplomatically. See, this is a moment where Cat Noir's self-sacrificing nature feels heroic and not selfish like when he does it without Ladybug's permission to spite her. Unfortunately, it doesn't really go anywhere as Ladybug shows up and plays the recording Nino took (Alya found his phone earlier), while Rena Furtive uses her Mirage to give the audio to what actually happened that night.

Rena transforms back into Alya and embraces Rocketear, who apologizes to her for his behavior. And then he just... rejects Shadowmoth's power while looking like it wasn't that much effort.

At least when Chloe and Alya did it, we saw them struggling for a little longer. I guess maybe it's because Nino is motivated by his love for Alya, but I think it should have been fleshed out more. So Ladybug purifies the Akuma, gives Nino a Magical Charm, and Cat Noir is still unsure about his feelings for Ladybug at the moment, though they still pound it.

Back in his room, Adrien ponders why Alya and Nino get to know their identities while he and Ladybug can't, but Plagg points out it's because she's the Guardian. It's brief, but I do like seeing Adrien start to doubt Ladybug's judgment, and it looks like it'll foreshadow future episodes. This is a problem I've had since “Hero's Day”, and I'm glad the writers are finally acknowledging this double standard. I just hope they don't end up blaming Marinette for whatever happens later on.

Marinette, of course, apologizes for what happened between Alya and Nino, and I have to say... yeah, no. It's obviously Nino's fault here.

Nino really pushed personal boundaries in this episode, much like Marinette's friends in “Gang of Secrets”. Yes, honesty is a valuable trait, but sometimes, people have secrets they want to keep to themselves. Nino's idea of “not hiding anything from each other” is somewhat controlling, like he's demanding Alya tell him everything whether she wants to or not. The fact that he immediately assumed Alya was cheating on him without giving her freedom to make her own choices doesn't make him look good. Let's be honest, a more realistic outcome would be Alya choosing to break things off with Nino or at least lecture him about how she can do what she wants and keep the secrets she wants. But instead...

And that's how the episode ends.

Okay, Marinette just said she trusted Alya to make the right decision, but I highly doubt she meant this. Marinette strictly said Alya had to keep Rena Furtive a secret, and now she's telling Nino this despite the risk? The whole reason Marinette and Luka broke up was because Marinette had to keep her secrets from Luka, but now it's okay for Alya to be completely honest? How is this not a double standard?

This episode was just dull, and there’s not even much I can really say about it.. There were a handful of standout moments, and the stuff with Adrien was somewhat compelling, but Nino's behavior was just insufferable and dragged the episode down. The Akuma fight was weak, only lasting about four minutes at most, and while the Lucky Charm was more creative this time, the plot was just frustrating. It's really one of the weaker episodes this season.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to watch the better Rocketeer.

[suddencolds]

Untrustworthy | Genshin Impact

This is a 3k word commission for anon! (I admittedly wrote over the commissioned word count).

Thank you so much for commissioning me and for your kind message 😭This fic was surprisingly very challenging to write, so I’m sorry for the wait; I hope you enjoy! 

Requested prompt: 

I want Diluc completely miserable with a cold. As much mess as you're ok with. Still trying to function. Until Kaeya can't stand watching anymore and inserts himself as caregiver.

—

It’s subtle at first. Diluc turns away from making a drink to cough tightly into an elbow. Diluc’s gaze pulls uneven as he ducks forward with a barely stifled sneeze into a handkerchief he’s been keeping in his coat pocket. Diluc—when he thinks no one is watching—leans a bit too heavily against the countertop, bracing himself with one arm, and lifts the other hand to massage his temples. as if he’s attempting to drive away a headache that he’s had all afternoon.

It would be unnoticeable, except Kaeya pays more attention than people give him credit for. It would be unnoticeable, except Kaeya is aware that a cold has been making its rounds through the Knights, many of which frequent the tavern—one severe enough to prompt Jean to actually take a sick day, for once, one that seems especially severe this winter and—judging by the absences in his ranks this last week—difficult to avoid.

Diluc doesn’t fall ill often, Kaeya knows. Even now he barely looks unwell, save for the faint flush of his cheeks, the exhaustion disrupting his usually-perfect posture, the sneezes that he keeps stifling into almost-silence.

Either he’s at the start of his cold—before it’s had a chance to get really bad—or he’s putting in an inordinate amount of effort to hide it.

Kaeya suspects it might be both.

“Master Diluc,” he says, when Diluc conveniently stops by one of the tables next to him with drinks. “When does your shift end?”

Diluc’s shoulders stiffen, though he doesn’t turn around to address Kaeya properly. “Three hours from now.” he says, frowning. “if you intend to involve me in one of your late-night arrangements…”

“Oh? Not this time,“ Kaeya says. He lifts his wine to take a sip. “Even if I were, I think perhaps I would have reconsidered.”

“And why is that?”

Diluc says it flatly—unaffectedly—but he only has the luxury of keeping up that act for a few seconds before he’s ducking into his shoulder with a perfectly silenced stifle. It’s such a seamless performance, neatly contained and expertly quiet—really, Kaeya deems himself unworthy.

“Bless you,” he says, though Diluc scoffs, swipes the empty glasses from the table he’s serving, and starts off toward his usual spot behind the counter. “I do hope you are not falling ill, master Diluc.”

Diluc sets the glasses down on the countertop, diligently averting his glance. “I’m fine.”

“Is that so?” At Diluc’s silence, he presses on. “Perhaps you should close up early, just in case. You look like you could use some rest.”

“No need,” Diluc says. “It’s just— “Hiih… hiIIH-nGK-t! Hiih… HIiIH…-!!.... hiIIh-GKt!” The sneezes snap him forward, his shoulders trembling with the motion. He straightens with an almost imperceptible shiver. “—just dust, snf. Perhaps the Knights would be more efficient if you put more time into work instead of investigating less…” Diluc looks to him at last, his jaw tightly set. “...pressing matters.”

“Ah.” Kaeya laughs. “So eager to get rid of me?”

“Your concern is unnecessary. I already intend to close up earlier than usual.”

That’s surprising, to say the least—Diluc usually never cancels plans to suit himself. “So you really aren’t feeling well,” Kaeya says, suddenly worried. If it’s so bad that even Diluc is closing up early...

He must not be doing a good job keeping the concern off his face, because Diluc just scoffs dismissively, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s not that.” He coughs softly into his raised elbow. “I have somewhere to be.”

“Hmm, to think you said no late night excursions...”

“There’s a banquet tomorrow that I’m expected to attend.”

And yet he won't be closing up for another few hours. And yet he’s here, with the start of a cold, looking exhausted and unwell, and still—for reasons Kaeya can’t fathom—he intends to work late into the night and then spend the entire day tomorrow at some pretentious social event. Kaeya knows that having to entertain strangers is exhausting to Diluc even on regular occasions. He also knows that whatever Diluc is coming down with is unlikely to resolve itself in just a night’s rest.

“For the winery?” he asks. “My, such impressive dedication to the business… surely you can send Elzer on your behalf?”

Diluc’s shoulders tense in a way that suggests that he is as reluctant about attending as Kaeya expected. “I can’t. The host requested my presence.”

“At the very least,” Kaeya says, “You should close up a bit earlier.” He glances over his shoulder to peer through the first floor windows. It’s dark outside—too dark to come to any conclusions, but earlier today, the sky had been too heavy, the air prickling with humidity, the clouds overhead sprawling and dark. “It wouldn’t do you any good to get caught up in the rain.”

“The rain is of no consequence to me,” Diluc says, in the kind of tone that suggests that he doesn’t intend to close up early at all.

“Even with a cold?” “I don’t have a cold.”

Kaeya shrugs.  “Well, if you’re certain.” He pushes his mug forward so that it rests on the countertop, right within Diluc’s reach, and counts the mora out beside it. “Goodnight, Diluc.”

He turns on his heels. Years ago, he might’ve stayed longer. He might’ve insisted for Diluc to take care of himself and not left his side until he had.

But it’s been years. Diluc left, and Kaeya tried to muster up the pieces of himself that had existed independent of him—he’d taught himself how to lie, tricked himself into believing that the person he’d trusted most hadn’t left him—and now even though Diluc is back, sometimes it feels as if Kaeya barely knows him at all.

If Diluc won’t take care of himself, then that’s his prerogative. It’s stopped being Kaeya’s problem a long time ago.

—

Kaeya has every intention of leaving Diluc alone.

That is, until he’s at the Knights’ headquarters, listening in on a conversation that he doesn’t quite mean to eavesdrop on but hasn’t gone out of his way not to avoid.

“He keeps taking our work,” one of the Knights says. “It’s awful. Last time we spent all our time finding this one domain—Fatui territory, alright? We had a whole expedition team ready to scout out the domain the next day. Then the next day, we get there and the place is abandoned. Everything’s been scorched. Must’ve been a pyro user.” “How do you know it was him?”

“Trust me, you’d know. How many pyro visions are there in Teyvat? It’s like the legends say. He doesn’t leave any room unturned. He’s more thorough than a team of our men put together.”

“Gentlemen,” Kaeya says loudly, smiling when they startle and turn to look at him in synchronicity. “What are you talking about?”

“The Darknight Hero,” one of the knights offers haltingly. “Last night he took down one of the Fatui strongholds we were planning to deal with. Talk about an annoyance, huh?”

“Oh? How heroic. It seems he lives up to his title,” Kaeya says. His mind is reeling. Diluc? But last night, Diluc had been working late. He’d gone home right after, hadn’t he? It wouldn’t make sense for him to be out last night. Unless, of course...

He would really, really like to believe that Diluc’s self-preservation instincts are better than that.

“I’ve been saying,” says another knight. “We were supposed to be scouting out the area right now. Chances are, there will be nothing left there that’s of any use to us.”

“Seeing as we have nothing to do today,” the first knight says, his expression hardening, “maybe we can conduct a search party for the Darknight Hero instead. See what he has to say about withholding information from the Knights.”

“Let’s not be too hasty here,” Kaeya cuts in, before the other Knights have a chance to offer their assent. “It’s unlikely that the Darknight Hero would be out during the day, isn’t it? Rest assured, I’ll make sure that it’s looked into. In the meantime, have you asked the Acting Grandmaster for a new assignment?”

The knight in question falters. “No, but…”

Kaeya smiles pointedly at him—the kind of vicious smile that, around knights and strangers alike, never fails to intimidate. “Then perhaps you should get to it, don’t you think?”

He waits until he’s sure they’ll be busy with something else. Maybe they’re mistaken. Maybe Diluc had gone to scout out the area on some previous occasion, and the Knights are only now paying witness to his usual efficiency.

Or maybe Diluc has forgone a night of rest in lieu of playing hero to Mondstadt in the pouring rain. And now he’s at a banquet somewhere, with a miserable cold that he’s most likely intent on telling himself he doesn’t have.

It’s been awhile since Kaeya’s been to a banquet. He misses the alcohol, the music, the extravagant decorations. It’s easy enough to tell himself that that’s the reason why he’s going.

—

It’s not difficult to get in. Kaeya is well-acquainted with having to sweet talk his way into lowering someone’s defenses.

Inside the banquet hall, it’s crowded. It is as pretentious a setup as it gets—visitors wearing suits and ballroom gowns, walls adorned with streamers and gold plaques, tables laid out with refreshments of all sorts. The building it’s being held in has at least two floors and too many side rooms to count.

He spots Diluc from across the room—red hair is rare enough that he’s not easy to miss. Diluc is currently engaging in conversation with someone Kaeya hasn’t seen before.

It’s likely that Diluc has found the person who explicitly requested his presence—probably someone with a business deal that he thinks warrants a personal talk with the owner of Dawn Winery. If Kaeya interrupts Diluc while he’s negotiating some sort of once-in-a-lifetime deal, Diluc will never let him live it down. So instead, he grabs a drink as an excuse to get closer and stands a few tables away to listen in.

Up close, Diluc’s cold is practically impossible to miss. His clothes look freshly ironed, but his hair is still damp at the tips—he’s changed into dry clothes, then, but his wet hair seems to only confirm the hypothesis that he was, in fact, scouting out domains last night in the rain instead of getting a wink of sleep. Diluc has always been pale, but now there’s a flush high on his cheeks that Kaeya thinks could only be a result of an impending fever. He is standing with his arms crossed—a last attempt to keep warm, perhaps—with a handkerchief gripped loosely in one hand. Faint shivers break the line of his shoulders.

Kaeya feels a pang in his chest. Diluc looks…

Kaeya watches as Diluc twists away with a soft apology and a wrenching sneeze that snaps him forward at the waist.

...miserable.

“That was merely my expectation,” the man says. “Crepus and I were business partners, do you know that? You don’t seem like the type of person who would choose this profession. I am sure your priorities lie elsewhere.”

Diluc clears his throat. “I have no qualms against upholding the family business.” His voice—though usually smooth and mellifluous—has taken on a rough edge to it, as if from overuse.

“Of course, I didn’t mean to suggest otherwise,” the man says. “I am sure you’re aware of your options, no? You could make a fortune selling off the winery if you so desired.”

“If you are...” Diluc starts, though his sentence is punctuated by a soft, desperate gasp, and he turns away just in time, ducking into his handkerchief. “hiIh…. Hiih… hiih’GKt—CHhiiew! Snf-!” His eyes stay shut in anticipation, the grip tightening around the handkerchief as his shoulders jerk with another sharp intake of breath.  “Hiih… Hiiih… Iiih’DZsshh-iu! haAHH’iIKTch-iIIew!” he sniffles wetly, barely suppressing a violent shiver.

“If you are here to gauge whether or not I intend to sell the winery, I can assure you that I do not,” he says, quieter than usual.

“Ah, of course, just a question.” The man leans forward, lowers his voice. “Truthfully, I am more interested in a partnership. It’s come to my attention that you have an excess of wine sitting in the winery’s cellars. If you can get me the amount of Dandelion Wine I need at a discounted price, I can sell it down in Liyue for a profit.”

“I have no interest in expanding the business any further,” Diluc says. “The excess will sell out easily in the spring when demand rises for Windblume.”

“I urge you to give it some consideration. Dandelion Wine is a specialty to Mondstadt. Think about the profitability of expanding to somewhere where dandelions are hard to come by,“ the man says. “You could stand to double or even triple the prices per bottle. I am only asking to take a fraction of your stock, see? Ten percent would be enough.”

He says it as if ten percent isn’t anything substantial, but Kaeya can’t help but think that there’s something wrong here—both with the presentation of the offer and with its suddenness. From here, Diluc’s expression is unreadable—it betrays only slight discomfort when he turns to the side, muffling harsh, forceful coughs into his suit sleeve, and murmurs a reflexive apology. No hesitation—not the slightest hint of wariness—even though the Diluc Kaeya remembers wouldn’t agree to raising prices so drastically without good reason.

“I can handle all transportation and deliver the profits to you in a few months,” the man presses on, interpreting Diluc’s untelling silence as interest. “My associates have done research on the market in Liyue and where it would be best to sell. You wouldn’t have to do anything differently from your end. All that I ask is for you to trust me with the first shipment and compensate me fairly after I handle the marketing and transportation.”

Diluc sniffles. “Forgive me,” he says, bracing himself with one hand against the table behind him as he ducks forward violently into a raised arm.  “hiIh’nGKT-chhiEW! HIih… I do n-not… hhH… Hiih-! hiIH’iiikT-CHhiew! Sdf-! Ugh… hiIIH’NGKT-CHhiew!” He leans slightly into his side, and though the gesture is well-disguised, Kaeya can tell just how much he’s bracing his weight on the table. It’s concerning, to say the least. Is he really too tired to stand upright? “...I do not expect to give out so much wine without a proper assessment of the risk. If you believe the model to be profitable, you are free to… t-to… hh-! to purchase…. hiIH… haAA’iiKTT-CHh!-u! hiIh’iiiTSSHhh’uh! snf-!” The congestion in his voice is evident in all of his consonants, and his gaze flickers down to his handkerchief in unspoken desperation, though Kaeya suspects he’s too polite to blow his nose in front of a business partner.

“...You are free to purchase wine at the same rate as I offer other corporate partners. I cannot - coughcough - I cannot offer such a large first-time shipment for free based on only an assumption that it will be successful.”

Kaeya can see the exact moment the smugness drops off of the man’s face. His eyes harden at Diluc’s hesitation, his practiced smile shifting into the approximation of a sneer.

“An assumption? You don’t trust my ability to see the operation through to the end?” He says, still in the same polite, haughty tone of his. “As a long-time associate of your father, I would have thought I would have earned your trust as well. Unless, of course, you simply don’t agree with Crepus’s assessments?”

Kaeya can see the way Diluc’s jaw tightens at the query. He clears his throat softly, though the brief wince that follows suggests that the action is far from painless.  

“His vision for the company is - snf - very important to me,” he says simply.

The man waves a flippant hand. “Or perhaps once he left, you decided you knew better? I mean, you have grown up so much, so I’m sure you feel more than capable of handling his affairs, regardless of whether or not you’re doing it his way. I don’t blame you.”

As the man turns around to pour himself a drink, Kaeya sees a flash of blue and gold tucked into his suit pocket. It takes him another moment to realize what it is.

A Fatui sergeant’s insignia—for identification purposes, or just a habit, likely.

This man isn’t a business partner of Crepus’s at all.

Now, the man wheels around, holding one drink in each hand. Alcohol, clearly—though it sparkles, faintly red. “Ah, well. I can’t say I’m not disappointed, but your decisions are understandable. A friend of mine has been working on a drink that mixes certain Liyuen specialties and Dandelion Wine—would you give it a try?”

“I don’t drink,” Diluc says haltingly.

“Just a sip wouldn’t hurt,” the man says, raising an eyebrow. “If you are anything like Crepus, you must have developed quite the refined taste when it comes to wine. Perhaps you could speak for the quality?”

“I’m sorry,” Diluc says quietly. “I am… Hiih… f-feeling… hH…. hiIih’iIKT-chHIew! Sdf!... slightly under the weather.” Kaeya blinks at him, disbelieving. Such an outright admission is practically unheard of, when it comes to Diluc—but then again, it’s a convenient excuse, and Kaeya is not under the impression that he really knows him. Diluc lifts a hand to his face, sniffling hard. “I’m afraid I would not be able to taste it.”

“You state the obvious,” the man drawls, and Diluc’s shoulders hunch slightly as he turns his face away, his cheeks reddening slightly. “Actually, that’s one of the reasons why I recommended this drink. It’s made with Jueyun chilis. Should be good for clearing up a cold.”

“Is that so?” Diluc says, still frowning.

“Perhaps you could speak to its efficacy?”

Slowly—hesitantly—Diluc lifts the glass. The man watches him like a hawk—too eagerly, if anything. Kaeya presumes that he either wants Diluc poisoned or too intoxicated not to be swayed, and hauling home a Diluc who can’t hold his own sounds like more than he’s signed up for, so now would be a good time to interfere. Diluc can be mad at him later.

Kaeya, for all he’s attempted over the years, has plenty of practice making his entrances as obnoxiously showy as possible.

“My, my,” he says, striding in with a drink in hand to settle right next to Diluc. “The esteemed owner of the Dawn Winery.” Just for the way Diluc grimaces at the title, his eyebrows furrowing, he decides this intervention has been worth it. “And… who’s this?”

Diluc veers away from Kaeya to stifle—a soft, near-silent stifle that must be exhausting to suppress.

“A business partner,” the man answers through gritted teeth.

“Must be a busy job,” Kaeya says, snatching Diluc’s drink out of his hand and setting it down on the table behind him. “Given, of course, that you have two.” He takes an efficient step forward and swipes the insignia out of the so-called business partner’s pocket.

“I do wonder why the Fatui would be so interested in the Dawn Winery,” he says calmly, ignoring the man’s indignant yelp of protest. He turns the insignia over in his hands, contemplative. “Did you really think the owner of the largest wine business in Mondstadt would be so easy to scam?”

The sergeant swears. “You asshole—!”

Kaeya reaches for the sword tucked into his belt. He knows it wouldn’t be a fair fight, seeing that the man seems very much unarmed, but it’s as good as anything as a threat. “I don’t suppose you’ll try this again?” he says. “I can’t claim to be the best swordsman in Mondstadt—that title goes to the previous cavalry captain, but maybe tonight I can come in second.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Oh? Do you want to find out if I am?”

“No,” the agent says. “I wasn’t finished having my conversation.”

“Well, what a shame.” Kaeya doesn’t wait for him to think of a response. He takes Diluc’s arm and turns abruptly to haul Diluc towards the exit.

Diluc goes along easily enough. It’s only when they get outside that the frustration—from watching Diluc push himself, stubbornly, to this extent—boils over.

“Diluc,” he says, turning on his heels. “Really? After a late night shift at the tavern, your first thought was to forgo rest to spend all night scouting out a Fatui domain? In the rain, for that matter?”

Diluc turns away, his expression unchanging. “That’s not worth mentioning.”

“Perhaps you’d claim that attending a banquet directly afterwards is not worth mentioning, either? Your hair’s still wet. And that encounter with the Fatui sergeant—what’s gotten into you? Since when have you been so careless?”

He’s almost certain Diluc can hear the unspoken accusation behind it. This isn’t like you. Diluc is hasty—he has a tendency to overestimate himself and involve himself in situations he knows will be dangerous—but he isn’t careless.

“—I knew he wasn’t one of Crepus’s associates.” Diluc explains, with a soft, liquid sniffle. He turns away, lifting an arm to his face. “I would’ve - hhihH-!! - snf, I would’ve recognized him if he were, sdf.” his eyes drift shut; he buries his face into his suit sleeve, sniffling. “Crepus made it a point to… hiIh…-! hIIIh… to introduce him to everyone he - HIiIIih… sdf-!! ...Everyone he worked closely with.”

“Is that so?” Kaeya says, but it’s not enough. “Then why did you entertain him?”

Diluc is quiet for a moment. When Kaeya looks over, it’s to a dazed, bleary expression before he ducks harshly into his raised elbow with a forceful, “hiIh’nNGKT-chHIEw! hiIH’IITCHh-chhUU!! Snf-!”

He doesn’t lift his elbow from his face. “I w-wanted… snf-! more -  hiIh-!...information,” he says. “If I were to know more about what he was planning, it would make it easier for me to find any fraudulent - hiIih-!! Snf-! - transactions in the company’s history if I knew what to - hIih-hiIh’iIKTch-IIiu! Excuse me… snf-! -to look for.”

“Bless you. There are better ways to do that,” Kaeya says. “No need to do it when you’re evidently unwell.”

Diluc peeks out from behind his arm, which he still hasn’t lowered from his face. His face is flushed up to his ears—easy enough to dismiss as fever, though Kaeya knows that’s not all there is to it.

Diluc has always been embarrassed about admitting weakness. Kaeya sighs, fishes through his own pockets for a spare handkerchief.

“I have to say, Diluc,” he says, holding out the handkerchief — which Diluc accepts hurriedly, turning away to clean up whatever mess he’s made of his sleeve - “My weekends would be much less eventful -”

“hiiihh’GKTTt-CHh’yyew! snf-!”

“- if I could trust you to look after yourself,” Kaeya finishes, raising an eyebrow. “Bless you, by the way.”

“I know my limits,” Diluc says.

Kaeya huffs a sigh. “But you don’t honor them, do you?”

Diluc frowns, looking away. “I would have been fine if you hadn’t showed up.”

Kaeya stares at him. It’s half in disbelief, half in exasperation—but Diluc has always been like this, hasn’t he? Insistent on his own self-sufficiency. Hesitant to admit he might, in any way, be infallible.

I would’ve been fine.

“You always are,” he says finally, with a smile that he doesn’t mean.

If Diluc so diligently insists on refusing his help, perhaps Kaeya should take a hint. Mondstadt is a half hour away—less, if he hurries. He quickens his pace. It’s fortunate, he thinks, that the rain stopped early this morning, after—

Diluc grabs his arm.

Kaeya wheels around, suddenly worried that Diluc might be feeling much worse than he’d let on, but Diluc’s expression betrays nothing as he lowers his hand to his side.

“Thank you,” he says—a soft, private admission.

Kaeya clears his throat, waves a dismissive hand. “I assure you, I have plenty more handkerchiefs.”

“No,” Diluc says quietly, looking away. “Not just for that.”

[bokutoslittlebird]

Hi can I request Alpha Akaashi x reader smut? I don't really have anything in mind so you can do what ever you want if you choose to do my request. Thank you for reading this and I hope you have a good day!

This is such a polite request omg it’s just so formal. Also you didn’t state what the reader was so she’s a Beta hope that’s okay!

Includes: knotting, a dash of angst (I think?), choking, creampie, implied f. masturbation, m. masturbation, possessiveness

Needy

He should’ve known you’d react this way. With the late nights keeping him away from home, your needy tendencies would rise and you’d be unsatisfied without him. When he came home, you would be too exhausted to do anything, either on the brink of sleep or in slumber, your sweet arousal invading his senses. He would leave you to sleep, dealing with the problem of his own arousal by himself. With you being a Beta, you slept through it all. His own scent felt suffocating in the bathroom when he took his bath, relieving himself. The hot water relieved the stress in his muscles while his hand pumped his cock, his cum spilling into the water as he would finish.

Lazy morning sex was also rare, with your early morning classes sometimes having you rushing out the door before he stirs awake. When you both managed to be awake at the same time, it was filled with sweet and tender moments as sleep was blinked from your eyes. When his alarm went off, he cut those moments short. His job wasn’t as exciting as most, be he still enjoyed it. When you whined for him to come back, his resolve would almost break every time. Only during his ruts would he break and rush back to bed, calling his work. His rut wasn’t for another few days, his vacation week already set in motion.

Akaashi Keiji loves you, no doubt about it, but sometimes it feels like he doesn’t. The feeling of needing to be wanted was overwhelming, even with Akaashi’s scent clinging to your jacket — his, technically. It was supposed to be a night out with friends, just hanging out after finals had finished. With Akaashi’s rut around the corner, you knew it’d be the last time to hang out with them this year. Your friends were mostly Omegas and Betas, but one of your friends brought his Alpha to the hangout. It wasn’t a problem, but his Alpha was very sweet and touchy, giving hugs to everyone. Even with Akaashi’s scent on you, he hugged you without hesitation. It was nice to have a nice big hug like that, arms wound around you to hold. If he had held you for a moment longer, you could imagine he was Akaashi, but he pulled away to leave with his Omega, leaving the rest of the group to go home.

You arrived at home to see Akaashi already home. Happy to see him, you excitedly entered the apartment you shared with him to see him working at his desk. You chose to leave him be, going past him to the bedroom. Had you stayed in the front room and kitchen, you may not have ended up in the situation you’re in.

“Why is someone else all over you?” His growls went straight down to your pussy, creating slick that hadn’t been there previously. “You’ve been so desperate for dick you found someone else, is that it?” Even if his words showed he was hurt, his tone didn’t match. You thought he could smell how turned on you were.

You’d be correct, after all. He felt torn and anger when your scent mingled with an unfamiliar Alpha scent. When he smelled your arousal, he realized the scent itself was artificial, just residue from the jacket you were wearing. Listening to his instincts had you pinned under him, his work forgotten while he questioned himself whether he should apologize for his actions or continue. With the way you seemed into it, it wasn’t hard for him to decide what to do.

“Keiji, it was a hug,” you manage to get out, his hand around your throat making it hard to speak. Your breathing was ragged but it wasn’t uncomfortable. The growling of your boyfriend had you getting hornier by the seconds as your thighs rubbed together, creating a friction. “Nothing more,”

“Really? Well, then I guess I have to lay claim if such a simply thing can overpower my scent,” his hand leaves your throat at his words, going to unbuckle his slacks and belt. The skirt you were wearing was simply flipped up, drenched panties on display. With the pop of a few buttons, Akaashi’s shirt was off and on the floor. Pushing your knees to your chest always you creaming on his tongue or his cock in minutes, the feeling of air being restricted enhancing your arousal. With a blow over your wet panties, he pulled them off with his teeth. Just enough for him to access the sweetness underneath.

Your slick was coating your folds, cunt clenching in anticipation as he gazes at it. A few flicks of his tongue had you squirming underneath him, his hands coming to grasp your thighs against his head. He may not look it, but he was much stronger than you. With his tongue buried in you and nose nudging against your clit, it didn’t take long for your hands to tug at his hair, your held back moans reaching his ears finally as your legs tensed.

“Kei-Keiji! Oh fuck, I’m-“ you didn’t even get to finish, you sentence cut off back a mewl as you came right in Akaashi’s face. A few more laps to your area before he removes himself, wiping any excess slick to taste. With your chest heaving, you gulp in air as you come down from your high. Weeks of being denied an orgasm due to masturbation comes crashing around you, stress build up melting away with the heat of the room.

“You’ve done something naughty, haven’t you?” His next words have your eyes widening in confusion. With his dark lidded eyes and thick cock dripping, his knot already a bit inflated, you know what’s wrong. A small smile as you giggle is your only response, arms quickly wrapping around his neck as he positions himself over you. With his tip nudging your folds, you’re bucking into him for more friction. “Making me start my rut early, you’re such a fucking tease,”

“It’s not my fault you’re as needy as I am, Kei-chan,” your voice is teasing, a giggle on your lips before you moan, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as he pushes in. Smirking down at you, he feels your pussy squeeze him as your eyes flutter open. “So- big,”

“Good,” he groans, pulling out before slamming back in. Your back arches to his thrust, feeling so full as you haven’t felt in so long. With his sharp thrusts, his pace isn’t fast or agonizingly slow. With his hips rolling with each thrust, he has you squeezing him with each pump of his cock in you. Your whines encourage him to keep the pace, but he’s quickly changing rhythm when you whisper in his ear.

“Fuck me like you mean it,” is all you say. With him finally in you after so long, you’re desperate to have him spilling inside of you. Your leg is then positioned on his shoulder as he jackhammers into you, his lips pressing kisses into your skin and leaving a trail of hickeys. Your mewls and back arching has him tweaking your nipple with on hand, his other finding placement on your back.

His lips find your bonding mark, a swipe of his tongue over the broken skin before his teeth sink into it. The pain has you creaming on his cock, white liquid dripping down his length and over his knot as he forces himself deeper into you with each thrust. When with searing white hot pain of his knot comes around, you’re squeezing down on him as another orgasm comes undone from you, eyes rolling back as you moan. With your pleased face and your warm pussy, Akaashi spills his load inside you, his cum painting your walls white.

You know you can’t leave him quite yet with his knot in you, but his growling as you squirm makes you realize you’re in for a rough night.

[oreoambitions]

Would love to see supercorp “I’ve never been festive”! Glad to see you back on my dashboard!

The thing about Lena, Kara thinks to herself as she strolls down Main Street with her hands shoved in her pockets, is that she wants to seem tough. That's the problem in a nutshell. And anyone else here in Midvale would tell you that it's just a city thing, that all the city kids want to seem tough, that Lena is no exception, but Kara doesn't think that's true. Well, okay, she knows it's true. But with Lena, it's something else. Something deeper. Something maybe related to the way that Lena has withdrawn into herself day by day as Midvale has begun to dress itself up for the holidays.

But Kara can do I'm-so-tough. She can do I-hate-Christmas, and she can do I-don't-believe-in-fun because at this time of the year she can do anything and get through to anyone. A little bit of light, a little bit of magic... maybe a little bit of love. That's how Christmas goes, right? Especially in a place like Midvale.

Kara likes to think of Midvale as a postcard town: the kind of town folks are only ever passing through on their way up and down the coast, a scenic detour, a cozy place to spend the night or just the afternoon before you move along. It's a place where time seems to have come to a standstill or at least a crawl, where it was a big deal when the first (and only) Starbucks opened, where nothing at all is open after 8pm, and you'd be hard pressed to run any errands on a Sunday, and you'd better not let Mrs. Nal catch you doing anything untoward or you can expect you'll be the topic of every conversation in or out of church for the next week or so at least. Kara would know; she's been the talk of the town on more than one occasion.

But these last several weeks the talk of the town has been the young woman who pulled up one evening in a car worth probably more than every vehicle on Main Street put together and strolled into the aforementioned Starbucks in a beat up hoodie sporting red rimmed eyes and trembling hands to ask the barista whether possibly anyone had a spare phone cable. She didn't want to bother anyone, only she'd left Metropolis in a hurry and forgotten hers and without GPS she didn't have any idea where she might stop to purchase one. She'd slid a hundred dollar bill across the counter as payment for the manager's beat up old charger and rolled right back out of town before anyone could tell her just how far from home she was.

Only then she'd rolled back into town some six hours later and booked herself into the bed and breakfast. And then she hadn't left.

The Danvers have assured Kara that in all the years Eliza and Jeremiah have run the bed and breakfast, and all the years Jeremiah's parents ran it before that, stretching back all the dusty decades since Midvale was founded, they have never had a longterm guest, no sir. It has simply never happened before. Kara doubts the veracity of such a statement but it has been delivered to her with all the solemn weight of sacred fact, and so she's taken it in stride - something which Alex seems to have found suspicious. And, true, on another occasion Kara might have been found elbow deep in records on a personal mission to prove that Jeremiah has pulled this particular historical "factoid" from some place the sun don't shine, but, well, she's been a little distracted these past weeks. Distracted by sad green eyes and coy smiles and the overwhelmingly mysterious circumstances that have delivered Lena directly into Kara's home.

Unfortunately Eliza has strictly forbidden Kara from asking the hundred and one questions perpetually on the tip of her tongue, and Kara's objections that she's twenty four now and she'll ask her questions if she so pleases haven't actually outweighed the sense that, at least where Eliza is concerned, she ought to do as she's told. So she's restrained herself. And as the weeks have gone by, she and Lena have fallen into an amicable, if not entirely comfortable, routine.

Kara serves Lena breakfast in the dining room with the other guests at precisely 8:15 every morning: two poached eggs with avocado on a thick slice of Winn's sourdough bread, a cup of coffee (black, diluted with hot water), and a side of roasted vegetables (no potatoes). Every morning Lena invites Kara to join her at the table, though Kara only does so when there are no other guests around to serve. They eat - together or not - in a silence broken only by small talk and the occasional lingering gaze when one catches the other looking until, at precisely 9:15, Lena excuses herself to seek out Eliza and enquire after the availability of another night's lodging. She pays in cash, one day at a time, without fail. She and Kara see one another again on the stairs, Kara on her way out to work a shift at the library and Lena on her way back up to her room. A small smile passes between them, affectionate and familiar, and Kara thinks perhaps... But no, the moment has passed and they've gone their separate ways for another day.

Kara has resolved that this pattern will not repeat itself again. Not now, not when Midvale is draped in heavy golds and greens, when the smell of Christmas pastry is wafting through the streets, when the trickle of seasonal tourists is threatening to become a thunder which will by necessity pry Kara's attention away. Not now when Lena is withdrawing further and further, when those lingering glances at breakfast seem to be few and far between, and it seems the onslaught of Christmas cheer is threatening to drive Lena out of Midvale altogether. If Kara is going to get through to her, today is the day.

She swings into J'onn's diner with a determined expression, sidestepping the younger Arias who has eyes these days only for her iphone and not so much for where she's going. J'onn is predictably behind the counter; Kara isn't sure he's taken a day away from the diner in all the time she's known him.

"I need two to go mugs of Bad Day Danvers Brew," she tells him. "It's urgent."

He plops two large paper cups down onto the counter almost before she's done asking. "I thought your sister was on duty tonight."

"She was. Is. It's not- It's for me."

"I don't suppose this has anything to do with a certain green eyed young lady from out of town."

It's not really a question the way J'onn says it but Kara somehow still feels pressured to answer. She flushes, turns away, scans the room. The dinner rush hasn't quite arrived. J'onn bustles about behind the counter without further comment, though he does arch an accusatory brow when Kara meets his eyes again.

"You do know," he says as he slides the drinks across the counter, "She's going to leave this place. She may not be ready yet, but the day is coming."

Kara frowns at him. "Leave is a four letter word."

"L - e - a -"

"You know what I mean."

"Maybe you should consider it too. Whole world out there waiting for you, Little Danvers. Seems a shame not to go out and see it."

Kara thinks for a moment of this world as she saw it first: a little marble hanging in a black sea, so fragile and small, so far away from home. Midvale is home now, and she'll be damned if she's going to leave it behind. She forces a smile for J'onn's sake.

"I'm right where I'm supposed to be," she says. She tries to pay him for the drinks. As he has a hundred times before, he turns her money away. Kara slips the cash into the tip jar on her way out the door.

When she gets home it's to the smell of apple pies bubbling in the oven and the sound of some old 50's Christmas record playing almost too loud for Jeremiah's battered old bluetooth speaker and hardly loud enough to compete with Jeremiah himself. Kara creeps up the stairs two at a time, one Bad Day Danvers Brew clutched in either hand, quiet quiet quiet. If Eliza catches her she'll try to put her to work and Kara isn't sure she can explain exactly what she means when she says she's too "busy" right now to help out.

She occupies herself with that thought, thinking up excuses for Eliza, each one more improbable than the last, and then she finds herself standing in front of Lena's door. She feels suddenly grimy, foolish, clumsy. What she hasn't considered in all her planning for this moment is that with both hands occupied she can hardly knock on Lena's door, and with her heart pounding an urgent rhythm in her chest and her body trembling with something that is distinctly not fatigue Kara doesn't trust herself to tuck one of the drinks into the crook of her arm.

So she does what any sane person would do: she kicks the door. Gently. As gently as she possibly can, but it still feels brutish and Kara winces as the sound of it tumbles down the hall to clash with Jeremiah's crooning and the roar of the vacuum cleaner in the foyer. Grimy, foolish, clumsy. But then the door swings open and all such thoughts fall from Kara's mind.

She has words picked out for this moment but they don't come to her. Lena stands in the doorway in jeans and a cardigan and socks that have bumble bees on them and Kara feels like she needs just a moment but the moment is already passing. Green eyes search hers, curious, bemused. Kara wants to reach out and tuck that stray lock of hair away, but-

The drinks. Right. "I brought refreshments," she says, proferring the paper cups. "For us," she adds, in case it isn't clear.

Lena reaches out for one of the cups, hesitant, then pries the lid off to take a whiff. "Hot chocolate?"

Kara wants to melt on the spot but she sticks to her guns. "It's special hot chocolate," she clarifies. This is not how this conversation was supposed to go. She had this exchange all planned out, there were contingencies, it was all perfect and here she is muddying it all up. "I was thinking maybe we could go out tonight."

"Like on a date?"

Oh, Rao. Kara's eyes drops to Lena's mouth without her say so and then they travel a little further south to the line of that cardigan and she swallows. "No," she forces out, "like on a walk?"

There's a long pause and then Lena laughs. "You're really very charming, Danvers," she says, and Kara feels an unexpected thrill at the sound of her last name in Lena's mouth. "Let me just get my sweater."

"You're already-" Kara starts, but the door clicks shut before she can finish. "Wearing a sweater," she mumbles to herself.

Lena emerges some minutes later, just when Kara is beginning to get fidgety. She's thrown on a hoodie which is perhaps a size too big and a pair of converse rather the worse for wear and Kara isn't sure what she was expecting but it wasn't this. Which is not to say that she doesn't like it. Lena licks her lips and fixes Kara with a pointed look.

"There is whisky in that hot chocolate," she says.

Kara shrugs. "I did say it was special."

They make it down the stairs and out of the bed and breakfast without Eliza noticing, though Kara is all but certain Jeremiah saw them leave together and will have Questions with a capital Q about it later. The sun is just now sinking below the horizon as the two of them turn down Main Street, ducking around Mr. Schott who is occupying most of the sidewalk with a rickety old ladder in an attempt to install another strand of lights above the toy store window. Already the street lamps bear oversized red bows and long, heavy pine garlands, and it will be only a matter of days now before every storefront from here to the edge of town is bright and warm and magical. Kara takes it all in with a growing smile. Lena takes it in with an expression that borders on an outright scowl.

"So are we going anywhere in particular?" Lena asks. They duck around a knot of visitors asking after a table at the brewery and for an instant Kara is almost certain she feels Lena's fingers brush hers.

"We are," Kara admits. And then, because she doesn't want to give away their destination, she adds, "You don't like Christmas."

Lena grimaces and takes a long sip of the Bad Day Danvers Brew. "I wouldn't say that I don't like Christmas."

"But?"

"But I've never been festive. And this year..."

Kara's mind fills in the words that Lena doesn't say: This year it's hard. Hard to see the joy and the magic and the laughter all around when you're alone and far from home. Well, Kara knows a thing or two about that. She takes a sip of her own drink and, resolutely, carefully, looking straight ahead, she reaches out to touch Lena's hand, so gentle it could have been an accident.

"This year you have me," Kara says. She's shocked the line comes out of her mouth as smoothly as it does. Her heart is so far up her throat she almost fears she'll choke on it.

Lena steps in closer until Kara swears she can feel the heat radiating between them even through both of Lena's sweaters and her own Christmas flannel. They walk in silence for a block or so, shoulders bumping once in a while, before Lena asks, "Do you have any favorite holiday traditions?"

Kara shrugs. "I like the carols. Jeremiah and I always go out caroling on Christmas eve. Oh! And the cookies. Pie for breakfast on Christmas morning."

Lena laughs at that. "Pie for breakfast? Lilian - my step mother - she'd have a fit."

"Well you can have pie with us this year if you want; I promise not to tell Lilian a thing. If you're still hanging around."

Lena looks at her sharply and then looks away, leaving Kara to feel silent and small and a little rejected. But Lena touches Kara's wrist as they move through the crowd and then, when Kara doesn't pull away, she takes her hand.

"Christmas is always an important social event for my family," Lena says. She glances at Kara as if to check that she's listening and then away again so quickly that Kara almost wonders if she imagined it. "Everything has to be perfect. The food, the decorations, the music. The family. And it's beautiful, really. Imagine a pine tree towering up to the very rafters, all the ornaments carefully curated and arranged, and a cellist flown in from Italy perches in the corner playing O Come Emmanuel while the city's elite pass through pretending to enjoy bite sized Christmas pastries prepared overnight by a team flown in from France. I suspect it would feel magical if it weren't so much work. It's hard to enjoy the magic when you're a part of it. Especially as a child."

Kara frowns. Her fingers tighten around Lena's, tugging her ever forward towards the Christmas tree in the center of town. She's thinking of Krpyton, of a perfect family, a perfect people, and a perfect world crumbling under the veneer. But she can't say that to Lena, so she flashes her a bright smile instead and says, "In Midvale, everyone who wants to gets to put an ornament on the town tree."

"Everyone? That doesn't seem practical. There have to be, what, at least a thousand people living here."

Kara nods. "Yeah. Not everyone participates, but most people. And of course that means the tree isn't curated like your family's, but it's got a special kind of magic to it. The kind you get when you aren't trying to make magic follow the rules."

It occurs to Kara that there is a sort of comedic timing to this, as this is the moment Kara steps over the low fence with the sign that reads "do not walk on the grass" and tugs a protesting Lena after into the shade - or, in this case, the light - of the Midvale tree.

"Rules," Lena is saying, "Generally exist for a reason, and when you break them willy nilly you don't get magic, you get chaos. It's important to- Wait, is this your Christmas tree?"

"Yep," Kara says. She reaches out to press a hand to the trunk and then stares up at the tiny golden lights wound among the branches with care, ornaments dangling here and there, some homemade and some not. She's definitely not supposed to get this close to it but, well, it's Alex on duty tonight and she doubts her sister is about to arrest her for trying to make a move on a pretty girl. "This is the one."

"But it's an oak tree," Lena observes. She steps up beside Kara to touch the trunk.

"Couple hundred years old, or so they told us in middle school," Kara says. "She's a gorgeous tree, isn't she? Not a pine and not perfect, but. Our own kind of magic." Then she grimaces. "Sorry; I'm being terribly cheesy right-"

"Did you know that mistletoe often grows in the California oak?" Lena interrupts.

Kara falters. She did know that, but this tree is carefully tended. No mistletoe here. She opens her mouth to say so when Lena holds up a finger to stop her again.

"To be perfectly clear I'm suggesting that we kiss here under this tree. Because you're charming and a little over the top and I hate that I love your Christmas flannel and I would very much like to have pie with you on Christmas morning. So if you'd like we can pretend there's mistletoe in the Midvale Christmas tree. It would be a very reasonable mistake; mistletoe really does grow on-"

Kara kisses her. The surprised gasp that falls from Lena's lips almost makes her laugh, but this is a serious moment so she tries to keep it in. She's got only one hand to work with - the other is still hold her Bad Day Danvers Brew - so she slides it around Lena's waist to pull her closer, and it's her turn to gasp when Lena tilts her head to slide her tongue along Kara's bottom lip.

Someone on the sidewalk cheers, and that is when Lena drops her drink. And then they do laugh together there under the tree, spiked hot chocolate splattered over the bottom of Lena's pants, Kara pressing her own drink into Lena's hands, and the sound of Mrs. Nal nearby screeching about public indecency while James tells her to go suck an egg. The two of them will be the talk of the town for weeks. Certainly through New Years. Kara doesn't think she minds.

///

Merry Christmas to everyone celebrating; Happy Holidays and a lovely morning to everyone who is not! Thank you for this prompt! I expected to write a quick 800 words but it got away from me and took all month.