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mandoalorian · 3 years

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Borrowed Time [Din Djarin x F!Reader]

ੈ♡˳‧₊*: • Chapter 3: The Escape ✩࿐ ˚.✧

Summary: You are the princess of Mandalore, held hostage on your own planet by Moff Gideon and his army of Imperial troopers. Left with no choice, you send out a distress signal; a plea for protection— and who comes? None other than Din Djarin, a foundling of The Death Watch. He, by creed, is your sworn enemy. And where you have asked for his protection, he has been told by his mentor that he must marry you and gain the ability to restore Mandalore to its former glory.

Word Count: 2600>

Warnings: female masturbation

Series Masterlist

Din Djarin was the first Mandalorian warrior to set foot on Mandalore wearing full armour in decades. It wasn't an act of bravery or rebellion, although it would have certainly been interpreted that way. Din didn't know any different. In fact, apart from the odd glare, he hadn't even assumed he'd caused any trouble upon his approach to the palace.

He was so, very wrong.

"Moff Gideon, sir— a Mandalorian was spotted walking through the princess' palace back on Mandalore. He was seen with a child. We are led to believe that his entry to the palace was not authorized by an Imperial, but by the princess herself." one trooper informed, standing as straight and still as could be. Moff Gideon blinked momentarily and turned to face the bay window of the Imperial light cruiser. He looked amongst the stars as he contemplated the trooper's revelation.

You'd granted palace entry to a Mandalalorian in secret? That was the first sign of trouble. You, despite the front you upheld, were no longer the Manda'lor, but a captive of the Empire. You knew fine well that all entry to Mandalore must be granted by Moff Gideon himself… and this was the first time he'd heard of this. Nevertheless, Gideon was not one to panic. He remained calm and collected, although his blood boiled at your audacity to go against his commands.

"A child, you say?" Moff Gideon hummed casually, adjusting his black leather glove. Of course there was a specific child on his mind, but Moff Gideon knew better than to let himself worry over that. If a Mandalorian warrior had returned to Mandalore, it could be the first sign of mutiny. The first sign of your wishes to regain power and solitude to Mandalore the Great. "Do we know anything about the Mandalorian?" Moff Gideon questioned, deciding that the Mandalorian was his main concern.

"He was dressed in full beskar armour. Helmet included. According to ISB records, the child is an Imperial bounty. It seems he has been in possession by the Mandalorian for quite some time." The trooper informed, his entire body stiff.

That was when Moff Gideon knew for sure— it was the child he'd sought after for the past six months. The child who possessed the bloodstream of a force-sensitive, a Jedi even.

And now it just so happened that the Child was on Mandalore, the planet Moff Gideon held power over. It was perfect. Everything was falling into place for the Imperial reign. If the Moff could just get his hands on the child…

"Prepare my ship," Moff Gideon instructed, raising a finger. "Set course to Mandalore."

—-—-—

There wasn't a single room in the palace that Din wasn't in awe of. Now that he and Grogu had found comfort in your quarters, he checked out onto the balcony trying to find a good view of the Razor Crest. Upon inspection, it seemed like Imperial troopers were checking out Din's ship, which could never be a good thing. He turned back to you and watched as you fiddled with Grogu's ears.

You were beautiful; with the softest and most delicate features he'd ever had the opportunity to look at. Your voice was as sweet as honey and your eyes sparkled like the brightest star in the whole galaxy. Din was trying to work out when exactly would be the best time for him to explain the little marriage situation the Armorer had proposed to him before he left. It was clear as day that you already didn't like his creed; which meant he couldn't exactly be honest with you about his intentions.

He couldn't say 'Oh, my cut of the deal is that I marry you. And once we are united, I help you regain power over Mandalore, but we do it my way. We do it the traditional way. The way of the Watch'. You'd simply never allow it. No… Din had to be more cunning. He had to form a plan.

He wasn't happy to lie to you. You seemed nice enough, and your heart was in the right place. Already Grogu had taken a liking to you which was certainly a rarity.

Din slowly searched around your bedroom. It was like a library, shelves upon shelves filled with romance novels. You were clearly a hopeless romantic, and perhaps that could serve in Din's favour. And you'd already formed an attachment with his son. That's when a cord struck Din.

He could always just… make you fall in love with him. Make you want to marry him.

Din Djarin never had the strongest moral compass. He did what he had to do to support his Creed and this was simply just one of those occasions. The Armorer had said so herself, the way of his creed was the right way. It was the only way he has ever known. His gaze flicked back over to you, and his heart melted. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad making you his wife after all.

There was a slight problem. Din had never had a long term romantic relationship in his life. He didn't know how to flirt and he was afraid over how long it might take him to successfully seduce you. He had to get in your good books someway or another.

After a prolonged silence, you were the first to speak.

"I think we're in trouble already," you swallowed, looking up at Din. "I never expected a Child of the Watch to come rescue me… but you showing up on Mandalore dressed like a Mandalorian was a bad idea." Din blinked momentarily, but didn't say a word. His silence only urged you to continue your explanation. "No Mandalorian has been brave enough to return to Mandalore wearing full beskar and a helmet. I predict the Imps have already sent word to the Moff."

"You're the Manda'lor though," Din pointed out. "Surely you have some say in the matter?"

You practically cringed. You weren't really the Manda'lor— but that wasn't important right now. Sure, you'd tell him eventually that Moff Gideon had overthrown your position of power. You'd tell him once you regained control of Mandalore. You took Din's hands and sighed. "Swear that I can put my faith in you to protect me."

"I swear," Din promised, running his thumb over your knuckles. You swore that your heart skipped a beat at the menial yet intimate touch. "So princess. What's the plan?"

"We have to leave the palace. Go into hiding. I have no doubt Moff Gideon and his men are already on their way to investigate."

"Wait—," Din paused, his suspicion already rising. "I know Mandalore is under Imperial rule but who is this Moff and why is he so important?"

You scrunched up your nose, not prepared to provide him with the truth. As it turned out, you and Din were both ready to lie to each other. You expected him to trust you, and he expected you to trust him, but neither of you realised that you both had questionable intentions.

"He governs the planet. He's kind of the boss man," you said quietly. That wasn't exactly false. You were just… sugar coating the truth. "Where do you hail from, Din?"

"Uh- complicated question… I uh…" Din pondered. He didn't even remember the name of the planet where he was born. He was taken away by the Watch when he was just a four year old orphan. He went through his training all around the galaxy, never staying still for one moment, until eventually his tribe went into hiding on Nevarro. He sighed. "Nevarro." Assuming that was the easy answer.

You'd never heard of such a place. "Do you have friends on Nevarro?"

He wasn't sure if friends was the right word. He knew people, sure. Many of the citizens over there were in debt to Din. "I guess."

"People who can help us? We could… form an alliance," you smiled as you gathered your information. "To rebel against the Empire."

"You're sounding more like a politician for the New Republic than a Mandalorian warrior." Din scoffed, and you supposed he had a point. You didn't want Mandalore to overrule the galaxy. You were fine with the New Republican reign. From your own awareness, General Leia Organa of the New Republic was actually the daughter of your mother's old friend— Senator Padmé Amidala. But what were the chances that some random child of the Watch had any connection to the New Republic? Still, there was no harm in asking.

"Do you know any New Republic fighters?" you pondered, holding Grogu tight into your chest. You were cradling him in your arms as he had fallen asleep during your conversation, his gentle snores filling your bedroom.

It just so happened that Din did know a New Republic fighter and she just so happened to reside on Nevarro. Carasynthia Dune of Alderaan. Din nodded his head in affirmation and your grin only grew wider. "This might actually work." you confessed with a shaky exhale.

"No offence princess, but the New Republic already has too much on their plate to help you regain control of Mandalore, they're already still fighting the remnants of the Empire." Din huffed.

Din had a point— but what he didn't know was that the great Manda'lor was an Imperial ISB officer. If you could just get to Leia Organa and explain your situation, as the daughter of an old family friend… maybe then you'd gain the support of the New Republic. You were a slave of the Empire but you were desperate to break free of their hold.

"Take me to your friend… the New Republic fighter." you told the Mandalorian, beaming so brightly that your eyes twinkled with delight. Din wasn't one to catch feelings, but he swore his heart stopped every time he caught a glimpse of your lips curling into a smile.

"Now?" Din asked, shuffling around awkwardly.

"Yes," you confirmed. "I'm afraid we're already running on borrowed time."

—-—-—

Din was a good pilot and he knew how to sneak around when necessary, which meant, yourself, the Mandalorian, and his son, were able to leave Mandalore in one piece without the authority noticing. Din promised you he'd make the jump to hyperspace as soon as it was safe to do so, your anxiety already bubbling away as you considered the probability of Moff Gideon and his troopers already raiding your palace in search of you. No doubt that the moment they realised you were missing, they'd send out a whole search party for you.

Your nerves weren't lost on Din. In fact, he made his bed — something he never did — and encouraged you to lay in it. "May as well get some rest princess, we'll be in the air for a while." he grumbled, trying to resist the thought of you sleeping in the same place he slept every night. He wasn't prepared to give up his bed for anyone but you were the princess of Mandalore and potentially his future wife. And he'd known you for the best part of an hour. He still hadn't entirely wrapped his head around it all.

You were uncertain at first, but you decided he had a point. His bed was so much smaller than the one back home. Everytime you moved the slightest, it croaked and screeched. You could feel every indent and wire underneath the thin excuse of a mattress and you couldn't help but wonder how he could possibly sleep at night. Unless he slept in his full Beskar… it must've been so uncomfortable for him.

Din nursed Grogu while you caught a couple hours of sleep, but he couldn't stop thinking about you. Not once did he expect to be returning back to Nevarro so fast, but he decided it would be a good thing. He could report back to the Armorer whilst you and Cara spoke.

He was tired too. This whole day so far had been exhausting, but rather than scooching next to you in his bed, he opted to get cozy in the cockpit. Throwing a blanket over himself and Grogu, Din managed to close his eyes.

As you had imagined, your sleep on the Razor Crest wasn't very satisfying and you woke up every few minutes. Staring up at the ceiling, you couldn't help but think about the Mandalorian. He was serving his duty to protect you, believing that you are the rightful ruler of Mandalore. And for the first time, you felt guilty for being so dishonest to him. He'd shown you nothing but care and compassion from the moment he met you, even going as far to comfort you on the grand staircase. He wasn't offended when you expressed your disdain towards his creed— at least, he didn't show it. Din Djarin seemed like a good, genuine person. And you deserve someone good and genuine… Cursing yourself, you snapped yourself out of those thoughts. There was no time to initiate relationships, and you could not let yourself fall into the trap of caring about him. That would only screw up your plan even more. You just had to focus on regaining control of Mandalore.

But he was a masked warrior who had the caring nature of a prince and the body of a God. He was a father. You knew there was so much more to him than what meets the eye and so… maybe it wouldn't be too bad to find out more about the mysterious Mandalorian, in some way or another. Yes, gaining power of Mandalore was your first priority but would it really be so bad to let yourself get close to Din in the process?

You'd been isolated your whole life and to say that you craved love and romance was an understatement. You looked into the hull of the ship where it was dark and quiet, and just about made out the sleeping silhouette of Din who was laying in his pilot chair. Just the gleam of his shiny beskar and his broad shoulders.

Kriff— he was hot.

And the sexual tension between you both was undeniable.

You bit your lower lip and let your hand wander down your tunic, your fingers nervously gracing the waistband of your underwear. Touching yourself in his bed would be so wrong… and yet you couldn't resist it. Your eyes felt heavy as you watched him, his chest rising up and down as he slept peacefully. Your finger dipped into your panties and you bit down onto the thin blanket in order to suppress a moan as you began to rub yourself to the thought of him.

He'd touched you plenty of times...his big, strong, gloved fingers grabbing you and holding you… it was so easy to get lost in the thoughts. Your eyes fluttered shut as you continued to play with yourself, secretly hoping that the Mandalorian would find you making a mess in his bed and punish you in some way or another.

You wondered if he'd be rough and heavy handed… or if he'd be sweet and compassionate. Either way, you were completely riled up and on the verge of hitting your climax when a loud flurry of beeping came from the cockpit. You gasped, your eyes snapping open and you shuffled to sit upright in the bed.

"Grogu," Din grumbled tiredly, and for the first time, you heard his voice raw and unmodulated. He'd taken off his helmet. "Go back to sleep. Told you not to press buttons when I'm not watching. You'll get us in trouble."

And your heart done a loop-de-loop.

You had just met the Mandalorian and already he had you wrapped around his finger.

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queen-ofsunflowers · 3 years

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DadWorth AU: Part 2 (Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney)

More DadWorth AU! And here we finally get into the details of the games, so the parts that remain the same will be briefly touched upon. This is gonna be longer than the last post, so here we go!

< Part 1 | Part 3 >

Turnabout Sisters

Things actually start a bit before the game does, and its with Kay at age fourteen and ready to start high school. (to me her birthday is in December, so she would be fourteen by the time the school year begins). And she has a certain one in mind.

I’ve mentioned before that Kay ends up idolizing Mia and follows her cases. Being surrounded by law for the past couple of years and wanting to help people (because Kay has yet to learn about the true Yatagarasu), Kay decides that she wants to be a defense attorney like Mia as opposed to a prosecutor like her dad and Miles (I am one of few people that I think subscribe to the idea of Defense Attorney!Kay... but that’s where we’re going here.)

Miles hestiates when he learns that Kay “wants to be a lawyer”, but after pressure from both Franziska and Gumshoe, he agrees to the idea. After studying and working hard, Kay ends up getting accepted to Themis Legal Academy in the defense attorney course -- something she hides from Edgeworth because she’s afraid that he’ll disapprove. But this is something that she really wants to do. i have an idea, shhh--

So, Kay’s first day of school just happens to fall on September 6. If anyone recognizes this date, it means Edgeworth is going to be home late, as he almost always is when he’s working on a new case. Because this is where we hit Turnabout Sisters.

Kay’s first day of school goes pretty well. It’s all getting to know you stuff, so it’s gonna be easy. Everyone tries to keep Kay from finding out about the details of Edgeworth’s newest case throughout the course of the day, but this fails because Miles doesn’t know that Kay looks up to Mia. So he gets very much confused when she gets upset upon learning Mia Fey had been murdered when he goes about their usual conversation about his latest case the next morning.

So, she’s upset and Miles has no idea why. On his side, he finds out the defense attorney for this case is Phoenix Wright. So he’s not doing so well because the past is coming back to bite him in the butt, and Kay goes to school feeling like crap. And things only start to get worse from there when two students in the prosecutors’ course decide its a good idea to mess with one of the students in the defense attorney course.

Enter Sebastian Debeste and Klavier Gavin. (i know klavier’s a good guy, but he still needs the character development to happen) They are not the nicest of people when Kay first encounters them. She’s down, and they decide its a good time to kick her while she’s down.

She confides in this to Ema, who gets super mad about this. She knows that she needs to tell an adult about it, so she somehow manages to tell Gumshoe about this (how they know each other, i’m not sure, probably happened after she met Kay.) And then Gumshoe goes to Miles while they’re investigating the next day and tells him that Kay’s been having a tough time adjusting (Ema had left out the bullying bit, since Kay had made her promise not to tell, thinking it would make things worse.)

Miles takes things into consideration a little bit (he’s too focused on his case), and promises to pick Kay up from school the next day if Gumshoe drops her off (an idea that came up from Gumshoe mentioning it would be a good idea to have someone she trusts there after a bad day.)

The date is September 9, Gumshoe drops Kay off at school as planned while Edgeworth goes to trial. And everything for both of them goes downhill from there. Edgeworth gets his ass handed to him by Phoenix and gets his first loss. Kay’s bullying continues. Too absorbed in his loss and the repercussions of it, Miles forgets about Kay entirely. Kay’s left outside of Themis, heartbroken and her trust in Miles barely even remains. After about an hour or so, she calls Badd to come and get her since she knows he’ll always be there if she needs him.

Miles hears Kay come home, and gets confused when she runs past him and up to her room. Badd explains everything and how Miles is an idiot.

So, Badd’s pissed at Edgeworth. Gumshoe gets mad at Miles when he finds out about what happened with Kay. von Karma is pissed at Edgeworth for losing at case to a rookie of all things. Kay’s upset with him because of what happened. Franziska’s mad at him on both fronts. The media is having a field day with his record being broken. It’s the second worst day of his life.

Turnabout Samurai

So, time goes on since the horrible, no-good very bad day. Miles is trying to deal with everything and everyone being mad at him. He’s becoming emotionally unavailable and Kay’s not helping at all since she’s pulled away from him. Since he forgot about her, she thinks he doesn’t care about her anymore. She just stays out of his way.

Miles is emotionally out of the window and does just what he needs to do to keep Kay happy or so he thinks. He’s too absorbed in his work and stressed out from his previous loss to try and reverse the damage caused to his reputation. Meanwhile, Kay’s bullying at Klavier’s and Sebastian’s hands continues. She doesn’t know what to do about it (even though Ema continually tells her to tell someone, Kay doesn’t want to make things worse.)

Things come to a head for her right around the same time that Edgeworth gets assigned the Steel Samurai case against Phoenix Wright. Kay’s absolutely done with Sebastian’s and Klavier’s treatment of her and remembering Ema’s words, she acts.

Kay ends up punching Klavier in the face when he pushes her over the edge, much to everyone’s surprise. They both get dragged down to the office by a teacher after the fight escalates a little (if it even can be called that, only physical blows traded was Kay’s punch.)

They’re in trouble, they start arguing over who started it, etc. The teacher (who I should note is Courte) puts an end to it, believing that they are both to blame for what happened -- Kay for retaliating the way she did and Klavier for antagonizing her in the first place. With the principal’s agreement, both of them are sent home for the day after their guardians are called.

For Kay, she immediately gets called back by Edgeworth while waiting. Edgeworth is in the middle of the Steel Samurai case, so he can’t do anything. He actually grows irritated over what Kay did, not listening to her explanation over what happened and only saying that they’ll talk about it when he gets home. Kay tries to find someone else who

Meanwhile, Courte takes Klavier aside and tries to find out what happened to cause the whole mess in the first place. Something got into his head that this was how it was supposed to be with defense attorneys and prosecutors (what this is or who that was that planted it is up for debate). He’s told that he’s wrong. They’re both on the same sides of the law, and they’re both there to find the truth -- not to fight about it until there’s a victor. They are allies. Not enemies.

And then Klavier comes back and overhears Kay’s conversation with Edgeworth with Courte’s words echoing in the back of his mind. Klavier’s just like... “okay, she may be a defense attorney, but i don’t think she’s that different from me at all”. Kristoph is a terrible guardian, but the only one that can take care of Klavier, and he understands a bit of what Kay is going through right now because of that.

And immediately feels like shit for how he treated her prior. So when Kay goes to apologize to him from ya know... punching him, it’s him that starts apologizing. And after a very, very long conversation, they decide to start over and Klavier invites Kay to eat lunch with him and Sebastian the next day and even offers to see if he can get her a ride home. Kay reluctantly agrees.

And so their friendship starts there.

It takes Sebastian a bit longer to warm up to Kay like Klavier has, but eventually takes to her when she doesn’t hesitate to point out the mistakes he makes. She corrects him without missing a beat. Kay’s not hesitant to call him out on bullshit when needed. As a result, Sebastian’s a bit smarter than compared to canon.

So, the chaotic duo of Ema and Kay grows to include Klavier and Sebastian. (ema has no reason to hate klavier yet, that’s not until phoenix is disbarred if my theory is right, but his attitude does tick her off sometimes).

Things are starting to get better for Kay, that’s for sure. Miles, on the other hand... not so much.

We all know what happens with him. Unnecessary feelings, questioning just about everything that you know and who you are, etc. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Kay, who wants to try and do something to help. What that is, though, she doesn’t know yet.

Turnabout Goodbyes

Winter break is coming up, and it’s pretty clear at this point that Sebastian and Klavier (the latter moreso than the former) are in tight with Kay and Ema. Kay wants to do something to fix her relationship with Edgeworth, leading to a suggestion of being honest with him about how she feels. If he listens (unlike their guardians), then that means things could turn around.

Kay declines this idea as the first thing they decide Kay should do is tell Edgeworth that she’s in the defense course. She’s still wary about what he might say or do if he finds out she’s going to be a defense attorney rather than the prosecutor he thinks. She does, eventually, agree to talk to him about how she feels. Confessing to being in defense does still linger in the back of her mind.

Christmas starts to draw nearer and nearer, and the two usually spend it together (a tradition born from the first one they had. As bad as that time of year is for Miles, he tries to not let it show for Kay’s sake. Kay doesn’t know about DL-6 and he wants to keep her as far away from it as possible.) So Kay is confused when he heads out Christmas Eve.

Kay has no idea who to turn to... except for one person. So, Christmas morning, while Gumshoe does his best when it comes to figuring out the truth with the investigation, Kay runs all the way down to Wright & Co. Law Offices. (Edgeworth had talked about Wright before in conversations that Kay overheard. That, and it was talked about that he was the only one who managed to take down Edgeworth at school.)

This is the first time that Kay meets Phoenix face-to-face, so he’s pretty confused about as to why a teenager is banging down his door on Christmas asking for help. But, he’s not someone whose going to say no, so he and Maya head down to the detention center with Kay.

Imagine their shock when they learn that the person Kay was talking about is Miles Edgeworth. Who immediately turns around and refuses their help. At all. Because he wants them as far away from this as possible.

Phoenix and Maya leave with Kay, and two out of three are not about to give up so easily. So, yeah. Kay’s finally part of the main storyline.

She helps Phoenix and Maya on their investigation and in the process does learn about DL-6. And her heart just breaks when she learns that her guardian went through all of this. Which is why Kay is relieved when Miles finally

In the meantime, Phoenix and Maya are trying to figure out what Kay’s connection to Edgeworth is since neither of them explained. And all they can get Gumshoe to say is that Kay is someone that knows Miles rather well. (something that’s supported with Kay knowing about Edgeworth’s fear of earthquakes.)

Kay’s in the audience during this case, primarily because Miles expresses that he doesn’t want her anywhere near von Karma (especially for something that would technically be her first trial). But she’s also not going to leave, so she just watches. Kay gets excited when Phoenix starts tearing von Karma’s case apart. (at this point, Kay only vaguely knows von Karma from Reminiscence. She knows that he’s Miles’s mentor and nothing more than that.)

She helps with the DL-6 investigation. The one thing I should note surprises her the most about it is the date which it takes place. Added angst for this whole case (primarily comes from my headcanon birthday for Kay) -- It’s revealed that Miles was careful on December 28th to not let Kay know what was going on with him since it was also her birthday.

Kay has only known Larry for two days, and he’s already giving her a headache (and making her question how Miles and Phoenix are friends with him a little bit). But she’s super excited that he was able to help in the end. She also finds the story about the class trial super sweet, remarking how it reminds her about how Edgeworth used to be like when they first met.

She ultimately is incredibly worried about Miles as the case goes on. Especially with how he thinks that he killed his father. The man Kay knows would never do that -- even on accident. She wants to help as much as possible, even if she can’t stand with the defense. She also wants to stick it to von Karma after everything he’s done. Especially after the confrontation in the evidence room, where Kay lets loose more information than she should, so von Karma (along with Maya and Phoenix) end up finding out about Kay’s relation to Miles.

Phoenix asks her about this later, and Kay explains everything. She begs him to get Miles a Not Guilty verdict since she doesn’t want to lose yet another father of hers. He promises her that he’ll try.

So we get to the final trial day. Kay thinks that Phoenix calling the parrot as a witness is one of the most hilarious things ever later on, but in the moment, she thinks he’s gone crazy, but it works. Miles is declared innocent and she couldn’t be happier... until he flips the switch and confesses to DL-6 after von Karma brings up

Kay gets so mad and upset about this. She corners him in the defendant’s lobby, which is not a pleasant conversation. She knows that Miles is innocent. They’ve been fighting this whole time and he’s just willing to give up that easily? Kay feels like she’s being left behind all over again. She doesn’t understand why Miles won’t “believe in me, who believe in you”. And she storms out. So there’s a bit more guilt on Miles’s shoulders, and a small bit of incentive for him to actually get a not guilty.

So, it cuts to Kay in the hallway making her way back to the gallery. She’s relaying to what’s going on to her friends over a text conversation (understandably, they’re all pissed) when she bumps into someone on her way back.

Yeah... Kay runs into von Karma again. And knowing what she does about him, Kay’s just fucking pissed. There’s a confrontation between the two where Kay comes to understand why Miles is so afraid of this man. He puts an immense amount of fear into her. She just wants to get away.

Kay hits his shoulder by accident in the process and notices the amount of pain it causes him after she runs off. So, long story short, Kay manages to figure out where the second bullet is before Phoenix does, and the trial concludes similar to how it does in canon, but with Kay’s intervention. She’s beyond relieved that Miles is free and von Karma is arrested.

She also feels horrible about yelling, and decides to take her friends’ advice to heart. She almost lost Miles once, and if that ever happens again, she wants him to know the whole truth.

The first thing Kay does after Miles is declared innocent is confess everything to Miles. She’s stammering and nervous and is barely through it when Miles cuts her off because he already knows Kay’s studying to be a defense attorney. She’s not as slick as she thinks, Gumshoe had mentioned multiple times that Phoenix could be someone Kay could learn a lot from, etc. That, and he is Kay’s guardian. He keeps in contact with the school.

He’s not disappointed in her either, which is the one fear that Kay had. He understands not following in your father’s footsteps. If it makes her happy, then that’s fine with him. He is surprised that she finally told him the truth, though. Kay promises not to keep anymore secrets from him. She wants to trust him again.

Things end well between them... as well as they could be after that whole mess, but their relationship is steadily on the mend and all is right with the world.

...until February.

Rise From the Ashes

IF YOU ALL REMEMBER SOMETHING THAT I MENTIONED IN PART 1, THEN YOU KNOW THAT THIS CASE IS GOING TO GET WORSE FOR ONE MILES EDGEWORTH THAN IT ALREADY IS.

Kay gets dragged into this one by Ema when she comes by in tears over Lana getting arrested. Kay mentions what happened back in December and says that Phoenix might be able to help, so Ema drags her down there. Phoenix is responsible for two teenagers rather than one. Again.

let’s just pretend that they don’t have school for whatever reason

Not much changes other than Kay’s involvement in SL-9. People keep bringing up the fact that Ema was not alone. And Kay’s thief skills starting to show up a little bit. Again, she won’t discover the truth about the Yatagarasu until later down the line.

She also wants to kick Gant in the shin more and more as the case progresses.

When it gets to the point where they find out that Miles is going to resign,

It’s only during the last day of the trial that Phoenix (and by extension, everyone else but Maya) finds out about Miles’s connection to Kay when he brings up the fact that there was another witness present when Ema was attacked. And Miles isn’t able to hide who it is any longer.

So, Kay has to testify. And it’s not fun. It all ends with her asking them to leave Edgeworth alone, since he didn’t do anything wrong (or he didn’t know that he was doing anything wrong -- something that is later provable.) So, this case is full of family feels, and Phoenix feels like shit for having to do this.

But in the end, Kay’s memory is a bit more clearer than Ema’s, which leads to Gant’s arrest being a bit easier. Ema still leaves the country to study forensics in Europe, and there’s a tearful goodbye and promises to stay in touch between her and her friends. But the impact that the case leaves on Edgeworth does not change. He feels like he isn’t fit anymore -- as a prosecutor or as a guardian for Kay since he couldn’t protect her.

So, the night of February 25, Kay’s woken up in the middle of the night by Miles. She’s half-asleep, and really doesn’t understand what he’s saying at the moment. He’s saying that he has to leave for a while, and tells her that he cares about her. She’s just like “okay” and ends up falling back asleep.

The next morning, Kay wakes up and the house is just about empty. She can’t find Miles anywhere. She just thinks that he’s busy with a new case that needed him in the office early, or they needed him to help clear up what happened yesterday or something, so she doesn’t think much of it.

That is until Gumshoe picks her up from school early. He never does this. No one really does this without warning, like if its a doctor’s or dentist appointment or something.

Her entire world falls apart when he tells her about the note that they found on Edgeworth’s desk that morning.

Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth Chooses Death.

And that ends Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney. Kay doesn’t interact with the story all that much, but we already have Egdeworth’s perspective on the game for the most part. A lot of this takes place from Kay’s POV... including Justice for All. Which I have some... interesting things in mind for.

#ace attorney #ace attorney au #miles edgeworth #kay faraday #ema skye #phoenix wright #maya fey #dick gumshoe #klavier gavin #sebastian debeste #manfred von karma #queen speaks #dadworth au #kay edgeworth au

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shelf-care · 3 years

Text

Winter Nights

Wolverine x OC

Lipstick mark series Pt.2

| Part 1|

So its snowing in south Texas! that never happens. My parents are panicking and I’m sitting here writing fan fiction to calm myself. What could go wrong?

So Victor Creed shows up in this because I’m a pantser and I come up with ideas as I go and see if it works for the plot, (For this miniseries I hope it does.) I was also watching Kate and Leopold last night (It’s become a valentines tradition for me over the last few years.) And Liev was in it. So theres that.

Rated PG-13

Mentions of sex, medical examination, a former abusive relationship, obsession with an individual, slight violence, touch starved wolverine.

“Your mission Miss hope?” The woman in the white lab coat asked while holding a clipboard ad clicking a pen multiple times, it had to be some sort of nervous tick. Maddie tipped her head back, swallowing her saliva, she was clad in a sterile white medical gown, her red hair sprawled out on the also white pillow as another individual examined her. “My mission was to come into contact with the Man known as wolverine, or James Logan Howlett.” She took a breath, the cold instruments the nurse had been using caught her rather off guard. “And you succeeded in not only finding him, but you managed to get a sample of his DNA?” The woman jotted some notes on the clipboard now, keeping her eyes locked on Maddie. The redhead looked away, staring at the ceiling stark white and formless like everything else in the room. “I did.” The doctor nodded her head. “We’ll be taking those samples back to the lab to confirm that its him. Until they are conclusive, you are free to go.” The young woman nodded watched as swabs left the room, she rather did not want to know what they wanted to do with him.

Blankly staring at the roof above her, Maddie couldn’t keep that night from playing over and over again. He was indeed her target, but, something was stirring in her, affection most likely. It would die within a couple weeks like it did with the men following shortly after. She knew he would be harder to kill. But he’d fall like the rest. Eventually. She closed her eyes, then she felt her phone buzz next to her. She reached for it, a voice message was visible. Holding the device to her ear, she heard his voice. A voice that in all honesty she enjoyed. “Look, I’m not that great at stuff like this. But I got your note, the other one, the one with the lipstick,” He paused, thinking about what he’d say next. “I thought we got on pretty well the other night. Lemme know when you make it back to the bar.” The message was short, and pretty sweet. He did care, at least a tad. Maddie slid her lips in a grin, she recorded a new message for him. “I’d love to meet again, this Friday at the bar?”

She waited at the bar again, it was cold, snow was on its way. This time the meeting was for more pleasure than anything else since her job was done, but it wasn’t a bad things to keep up with a target. The door swung open among the mostly empty bar. The few patrons turned their heads at the sudden commotion. In walked a man who was tall, very tall. Blond hair cascading down his shoulders, while some of it was put in a half ponytail. A long trench coat and fur, was joined by it, making him look that more intimidating. He made his way to the bar and sat down, eyeing Maddie like she was his new meal. “I didn’t expect to see you here.” He said keeping his sight on the bar ahead of him while he ordered himself a large glass of whatever was the strongest drink at the bar. Maddie rolled her eyes. “You here to babysit me creed?” She asked drawing invisible circles in the counter. “Here more on pleasure Miss Hope.” He looked her up and down again and licked his lips visibly so she’d see it for sure. He knew this made her one of two things. Hot and bothered, or pissed off. it pissed her off this time around, and Creed preferred it that way. “I thought we were past this.” She turned fully to him now. “You might be.” He drank down half the mixture of bourbon, whisky and fireball and faced her, chest puffed in pride and confidence, a pointed and toothy grin showed itself. “But I sure as hell wasn’t girly.” He scoffed as his fist hit the bar making the redhead jump as he got her attention and everyone else’s in the bar as a matter of fact. “We were just getting good when you left.” A fire lit in her heart, anger and passion apparent in her face she took a moment to compose herself. “Victor, they removed you from my squad and as my partner because of your behavior towards me. That hit was the last straw and I won’t be coming back and I’m sure you know that.” Her tone was low and threatening, looking at him, she grasped the glass and slammed down the rest of the liquid before putting down a few dollars as a tip. Creed thought it was adorable when she was angry, and decided to take it as far as he could.

As she zipped up her jacket and made her way out, the large man grabbed her by the arm. “We’re done when I say we are,” He pulled her close to him, his breath brushing warm against her throat as his claw ran down her cheek. “And I’m not done talking to you.” His yellow eyes bored into hers, she felt her heartbeat quicken, she despised and loved this feeling, that’s what got her into this mess the first time. “I told you I was finished. You’ll get your chance with me another day.” She opened her hand to show her palm to him, illuminating a golden hue of color at the center and curving our like a flame, Creeds eyes didn’t change a bit, he seemed like he welcomed the challenge. “Sweetheart, if only you knew how much I craved that part of you.” He gave a guttural low laugh, daring her, as he smirked again, spurring her on. Seeing if she’d really follow through on her threat, which most of them were never hollow. “On any other occasion Creed, I’d let you have it.” She placed her hand on his fist that was still clenched around her arm. “But I’m not in the mood for playing nice.” His hand went visceral, veins becoming more visible as one could see the vitality of the large mutant being taken on by someone a third of his size. “Let me go.” He threatened as he began to feel his muscles failing him in his left arm. “You first.” She smiled, the grin widening as he raised his claws at her. but was too weak to do much else. She laughed and leaned into his ear whispering in a sensual voice, her chest touching his to pour more salt onto the wound. “I thought you craved this part of me.” He could feel himself become more drained the longer she stayed, he realized she wasn’t messing around this time, his grip loosened and she walked free, not another word was heard from Creed, and it would be like that till the next time those twos’ paths crossed. Creed was bent over the bar. He reached for his drink and it shook in his hold, and drank the rest fervently like he needed air, he watched as his hand shook like an elderly man and his hand similar to one too. “Babe’s been getting stronger.” He was captivated by the way her powers worked, he always had been.

She was Outside, the wind howled and whipped the snow up, crating a curtain of nothing but white mist making visibility a little less than optimal. She pulled out her phone and started to text.

“Hey, the bar is full. Did you want to meet anywhere else for drinks?” She messaged him. Yes, it was a lie, but she didn’t want to be around Creed, for reasons that was obvious. She waited a few minutes till she saw the three dots pop up. “You wanna come to the trailer?” He asked bluntly. She shrugged. “Pick me up?” She shot back quickly. “Sure thing.” Was all he said back.

Maddie threw her head back against the mini sofa that was in the one room airstream. The warmth enveloping her as she sighed after her first sip of beer. The snow on her jacket seeping into the fabric further, making a chill run down her spine. “Thank you.” She said raising her head to look at him, happy to be warm. “Don’t mention it.” He said mirroring her actions. “I can’t believe you wanted to meet again.” She mentioned looking at him again, he was different from last time, but not. “I can’t either if I’m honest.” He sat on his bed across from her. There was a silence that fell between the two, but it was comfortable. “Sorry the bar didn’t work out.” Leaning forward trying to skirt the conversation along. “I’d rather be doing this.” He tilted his head referring to his drink. That made Maddie laugh through her nose a bit. “Really? You’d rather act like an old married couple than be out?” She teased him, but he looked at her for a moment. “Been there and done that.” She nodded. “I like this though. It’s nice.” She took another sip of her drink before throwing away the bottle in an open trash bin. “I never got to ask. What is it that you do?” She placed her palm under her chin and smiled, waiting for his answer. He played with his bottle, before drinking his as well. “What you saw the other night is what I’ve been doing for the last fifteen years.” He told her nodding and thinking about his past and his way of living. “I don’t remember much of what I did before.” Maddie looked at him, a blank face that he couldn’t make out, but made him curious. “You never told me what you did. How did someone like you wind up in this dump of a town?” He joked slightly but he wasn’t wrong, it was a little piece of nowhere. “I’m in military secret forces. I was stationed here, and have been here for the last three years.” She saw him tense at the subject. “You okay?” Her brows cocked at him becoming a little bit tense. She didn’t think he suspect anything, and she wasn’t outright lying about what she did. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He left it at that. She stood up and paced over to him, and sat down next to him. The mattress sinking beneath her. He looked at her not quite knowing what she was doing. She reached for his hand, and looked at him before she went any further. “You don’t seem fine.” She silently asked for permission and he let her have his hand. She traced his palm slowly and gently, comfort in every movement. He was starved of this type of affection. Most people were, but him more than others she found just from the way he acted. She laced her fingers in-between the spaces where his were not, interlocking their hands. He closed his eyes her for a split second, every curve, every bump, every imperfection written on her face made him want her more as he reveled in the feeling of them being so close. “Don’t do this to yourself.” He warned her, taking his hand out of hers, though she stopped him. “Don’t tell me what to do.” She was firm, but the firmness was met with a soft smile. Logans eyes studied her for a minute. No one had ever stopped him like that, not to his knowledge anyway. This time when he went to remove his hand she let him leave, but it was to place his hand under her chin and bring her closer, and there, their lips met, and he pushed her below him while she wrapped her hands around his neck and raked her hands through his hair, all while closing her eyes enjoying the warmth compared to the freezing outside.

While the campers light was dim, if one were close to it you could hear giggling, rocking, calling one another’s names in the dark, and a little obscene noises that you would only hear if you where right next to the airstream. Then there was the figure that stood a few feet away from the little camper, a figure that towered over most men. The same body that was blonde, and in the bar with Maddie that same night. “You made a big mistake girly,” He peered down at his still healing hand, it looked aged, like his hand was ten years older than the rest of his body.

#wolverine #wolverine x reader #Wolverine x oc #Victor Creed x reader #Victor Creed X OC #X-Men #Marvel #X-Men x Reader #X-Men x OC #liev schreiber #hugh jackman #touch starved

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senstia · 4 years

Note

Andrew being comfortable saying i love you to neil and saying it a bunch??

im a firm believer that andrew gets comfortable being more expressive with Neil and saying i love you after he has been with him for a long time, here u go (:

The foxes had a new bet. After years of Andrew and Neil living together they all knew that Andrew and Neil loved each other. They’d seen it through subtle touches and passing glances throughout the years. But what they didn’t know is if the two boys said it to each other. Did they say ‘I love you’ ? Did they whisper sweet nothings in each others ears? Did they hold hands just for the sake of being close? Did they kiss when there was really no reason to? That’s what the foxes wanted to know. As much as Nicky wanted it, he didn’t believe that they were like that. Allison, Matt, and Dan firmly believed that Neil and Andrew had affectionate sides that no one saw. Renee stayed quiet as always and Aaron and Kevin sided with Nicky. They argued about it for about an hour, the foxes loved contemplating Neil and Andrew‘s relationship, it had become a game for them over the years, but mainly it was because they all loved the two boys so much and hoped that they were both happy.

“I have a plan,“ Allison said. “Lets go visit them! We haven’t seen them in forever anyway. We can all stay at their apartment and maybe we might see a thing or two.”

“Do they have enough space for that?” Nicky asked.

“Yeah they have a spare bedroom with two fulls and we can bring a few blowup mattresses and all sleep in there,” Kevin said.

Andrew was perched on the island in his and Neil’s shared kitchen, watching the commotion. Neil had decided that it would be a good idea to invite all the former foxes over for the weekend and right now Andrew was regretting agreeing to it. After a stressful week full of nightmares for Neil, all Andrew wanted to do was stay wrapped up in Neil until there was nothing in the world left but each other. But no. Instead his stupid junkie was bouncing from fox to fox, catching up with them all, and had forgotten Andrew completely. Andrew scowled. He had gotten far too used to having Neil’s undivided attention all the time.

As per tradition they were having movie night. Andrew’s mood had slightly improved because Neil had brought his favorite ice cream and was now sitting snug against him on the couch. The foxes were making noise all around them but Andrew’s focus was zeroed in on Neil. Neil’s cheeks were flushed and his eyes were bright. Happiness. Andrew’s heart clenched at the sight.

Neil had spent the last week shaking and vomiting, lost in his own nightmares. He had been quiet all week, too quiet. His skin was in a constant state of clamminess and he had said no to Andrew three times. Neil always stayed close by, but when Neil was usually smothering, this week he had been distant. Seeing Neil’s smile back made Andrew’s heart clench painfully. Seeing Neil happy was all he wanted. He was so relieved by that smile it almost hurt.

Neil’s eyes drifted to Andrew’s and softened minutely as they did, “Staring.”

“Yes,” Andrew murmured, not taking his eyes off Neil. While Andrew still played the apathetic card with Neil a good amount, it was seeming more and more pointless lately. Neil loved him. He loved Neil. He had gotten to a point where he was comfortable saying it. Deflection wasn’t as necessary anymore. And then something twinged in Andrew’s chest as he realized he hadn’t said it to Neil once this week. Neil had been in such an awful state and he... he didn’t say it. Why didn’t he say it? Andrew knew words of affection were a balm to Neil’s wounds most of the time. Usually touch was Andrew’s way of showing Neil how much he loved him... but Neil hadn’t wanted that this week. And Andrew suddenly wondered if Neil had been craving words he didn’t receive.

“Drew?” Neil asked softly, pulling Andrew out of his reverie. Andrew looked back up at Neil.

“Yes or no?” Andrew asked.

Neil nodded and Andrew leaned in and kissed Neil softly, holding his cheeks in his hands. He pulled back slightly and looked at Neil, stroked his fingers along Neil’s cheeks. And then he traced Neil’s jaw with a finger, and then his eyes, his nose, and finally his lips. He kissed Neil once more softly and pulled back, settling into the couch. Neil just sighed and rested his head on Andrew’s shoulder, turning to watch the movie they had put on.

Allison smacked Nicky on the arm four times but he was too engrossed in the movie to notice.

“Nicky! They just kissed!” Allison whispered.

“We’ve seen them kiss before, this bet is about words Allison! Now watch the movie,” Nicky whispered back.

Andrew woke to darkness and an empty bed. The sheets were still warm on Neil’s side so he knew he hadn’t been gone long. Andrew padded into the kitchen and saw Neil leaning on the kitchen counter, staring at his hands like he was searching for something there. Andrew flicked on a dimmed light and walked up to Neil, leaning against the counter beside him. After a few minutes of silence Neil’s voice rang out.

“Drew,” he said, his voice was husky from disuse, he sounded drained.

Andrew look to Neil and was met with those impossibly blue eyes. They weren’t bright right now though. They were cold, distant.

Andrew took a step closer to Neil and leaned in, Neil’s entire body flinched when Andrew lifted his hand. Andrew pulled back quickly. It was becoming more frequent that Neil didn’t want to be touched after a nightmare. And that was okay. Andrew knew better than anyone that that was okay. But he didn’t know what had caused the change.

“I-I can’t. I can’t...” Neil choked out, his body shaking.

“Don’t. Don’t feel guilty for not wanting to be touched.”

“But I do... I do. I just... I can’t.”

“That’s okay,” Andrew murmured.

Neil looked up at Andrew and his eyes softened.

“Drew,” He whispered, like a prayer.

“What do you need?” Andrew asked.

Nicky smacked Allison awake and hopped to the other foxes to wake them up.

“What the hell Nicky! It’s the middle of the night!” Kevin groaned.

“Neil and Andrew are awake! We have to spy on them. Everyone wake up!” Nicky exclaimed.

Once all the foxes were awake they crept to their bedroom door and cracked it open enough so that they could see into the kitchen.

Neil was leaning against the kitchen counter in his pajamas and Andrew was standing in front of him, a few inches away. They were murmuring too softly for the foxes to hear. The foxes slowly snuck out into the room a little further so that they could hear the exchange.

“What do you need?” Andrew was asking softly, looking at Neil with something like concern in his eyes, something like love.

Neil looked torn as he stared at Andrew, like he didn’t know how to respond to that.

“I-I’ve been having nightmares about how I got the scars on my abdomen,” Neil whispered. The foxes froze at this. Andrew seemed to freeze too. Andrew stayed silent, waiting for Neil to continue.

“Usually the-the nightmares are just memories. But lately... it’s like im living through it again. I can feel every lash of pain through my body like its happening all over again. I can still feel the echoes of it when I wake up. Thats why... that’s why its been harder for me to... lately. I still want... I don’t want you to think I don’t... I just can’t.” Neil said.

“Don’t worry about me Neil. Not for a second. I know. I know, Neil. Okay? You don’t have to explain it to me. You don’t owe me or anyone else that,” Andrew said firmly.

The two just stared at each other for the longest time, Neil seemed to drink in Andrew’s presence. Every second he seemed to relax more.

“Just... just my face,” Neil murmured.

Andrew raised a brow.

Neil scowled. “Yes, Andrew.”

Andrew stared at Neil for a few more moments and then took a step closer to him. He raised and hand to Neil’s cheek and traced it softly. Neil’s eyes fluttered closed at the contact and he seemed to revel in the feel of Andrew’s touch.

“Mm...” Neil hummed in contentment as Andrew kept stroking his face. Neil’s eyes fluttered open, “Thank you. I love you Drew.”

Allison smacked Nicky on the arm, “I told you,” she whispered aggressively.

Nicky smacked her back, “This goes both ways! Andrew has to say it too,” he whispered back.

“Can I kiss you?” Andrew asked.

Neil hummed and nodded. Andrew ghosted his lips over Neil’s cheek, kissed it once softly. Then he did the same to the other. And then he finally slotted his lips over Neil’s and kissed him reverently.

“I love you,” Andrew murmured against Neil’s mouth. Neil groaned at the words and his hands tightened on the countertop.

“Say it again...”

Andrew paused for a moment and then leaned in to kiss Neil’s jaw. “I love you.”

He kissed his ear. “I love you.”

He kissed his nose, “I love you.”

He kissed each of Neil’s eyelids, “I love you.”

Andrew kissed every square inch of Neil’s face, whispering I love you each time he kissed him. The foxes were floored. Aaron looked about one second from having a heart attack. Nicky was almost choking trying to conceal his squealing.

Matt had tears in his eyes, “I’m so happy for him... Neil deserves this so much. Oh my god.”

“I never thought... Andrew...” Aaron whispered.

Andrew pushed past all the intrusive thoughts in his head telling him this wasn’t right, this was wrong. Because that wasn’t true, and he was tired of fighting himself. Andrew had been dealing with this mental block for years, Bee had been helping him get through it in therapy lately, ever since Andrew and Neil had moved in together, Bee had brought it up, Andrew’s problem with expressing how he feels. It had been a rocky road and it had taken Andrew three years of going through it with Bee before he was able to choke out those three words to Neil. But it was easier now, especially when Neil was hurting, when Andrew knew it would help him. So Andrew let the words flow, let himself be painfully honest for once. Because he loved Neil. Goddamnit he loved Neil so much that sometimes he thought it might make him vomit. It was the most terrifying thing in the world but after being with Neil for 11 years the fear was only a dull ache, it wasn’t so suffocating anymore.

Neil felt new. Like every bad thing that had every happened to him was washed away with those words, with Andrew’s lips on his skin.

“Yes or no?” Neil asked as Andrew pulled back from Neil’s face. Andrew nodded and Neil pulled Andrew into a hug, burying his head in Andrew’s chest. Every part of them was touching and Neil didn’t feel any pain anymore.

“You. Are. Everything.” Neil whispered against Andrew. Andrew just tightened his arm around Neil and stroked his hair with a hand.

“You are too,” he murmured back.

The foxes walked back to their room in a daze, struck stupid by what they had just witnessed.

“I’ve never seen love like that before,” Kevin said quietly.

“No one is ever allowed to call Andrew monster again. We should have believed Neil when he said it wasn’t true,” Allison said.

“I’m just so happy for them yanno? They deserve it more than anyone in the world,” Nicky said emotionally.

Renee had a soft smile on her face, “Yes. They do.”

#the foxhole court #aftg #andreil #andrew minyard #neil josten #andriel #all for the game #tfc #andrew x neil #neil x andrew

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virtchandmoir · 3 years

Text

HUBBELL AND DONOHUE COMPOSE A HALLELUJAH

January 11, 2021

Madison Hubbell and Zach Donohue have hit a sort of “Hallelujah” trifecta. Certainly they’re the first team to marry skating’s favorite versions of the Leonard Cohen composition—those of Jeff Buckley and k.d. lang—in a single program, and the first to present two separate programs to the song. And more than this, they tapped a choreographer who skated to it himself: Scott Moir, who in 2012-13 used Buckley’s version for an exhibition with partner Tessa Virtue.

The Buckley connection, though, was purely fortuitous. Last season, a year after his retirement from competition, Moir offered his first choreographic insights to former training mates Hubbell and Donohue, adding some input on a program they’d already forged with coach Marie-France Dubreuil.

The plan was always for more, given a special connection between Moir and Donohue, who first shared training space in the 2010-11 season, in Canton, Michigan, when Donohue was paired with Alissandra Aronow and Moir and Virtue had an unusual season including surgery for her and an overdue return to competition. The bond grew years later in Montreal, with Virtue and Moir training there from 2016 through 2018.

“They had something unique, where I think a lot of us train hard, we all have a very supportive quality within the school, but Zach and Scott were able to push each other a little bit, almost challenge each other to be pushing harder or motivating each other in a little bit different way,” said Hubbell. “So I think that kind of started the spark that was like, maybe this would work and maybe this would be a good addition. You know, I connect a lot with Marie in choreography and we have a lot of amazing people here, but I think that Zach was able to find a different part of himself working with Scott, and the coaches were able to see that that would be a good combination.”

Timing, however, was trickier. “It turns out that when you’re one of the most decorated skaters of all time, you got some stuff to do, so he was hard to nail down,” said Hubbell. “So I think that actually, this really strange year, where everything was on pause, was a big blessing for us because it gave Scott a lot of time that maybe he would have otherwise been using to tour or go to competitions with his own students.”

youtube

The team estimated that they’ve worked with Moir about five times now, including for four days in mid-December a week before our conversation. “It’s pretty amazing, but he always watches our competitions and gives us feedback,” said Donohue. “And he’s in close communication with Marie, so he comes in with a pretty solid plan every time. And we’re just able to breathe a little bit of life into transitions that we thought we understood and get a deeper understanding of them, another energy, a little bit more of a connection to each other within that music. And we both feel the music so well, sometimes it’s easy to get lost in it ourselves, so it’s nice to have him there to kind of give us those focus points on how we can really bring everyone into our story.”

Moir’s recent competitive experience is a boon, noted Donohue, and so too his ability in retirement to focus more on process than results. “From my standpoint of having trained with him and always only seeing the push and the drive and the intensity that is Scott Moir, it’s really interesting to see the way his mind works and the details,” he said. “The way he thinks about starting and finishing a movement, why that movement registers to him, why certain ones work and why others don’t, why they can seem disingenuous. To be able to pinpoint what it is, no, there’s no way, and even if I could, to be honest, I wouldn’t put it out there, because that’s his thing. It’s not for me to share.”

“I was surprised at his specificity,” said Hubbell. “Even now, when he was here, you know, we have the whole program set, but we might spend the entire two-hour lesson with him on one little 10-second transition, because he was very dialed into these moments that he wanted a certain way. There was no rush to get there at a certain point—he was going to spend as much time as needed to get the result that he wanted.”

But that attention to detail was also critical for the team. “That’s part of, I think, why we’re able to feel so comfortable in the piece as well,” she concluded. “Like, there aren’t any sticky moments, there aren’t things that are up in the air or like, oh, this isn’t comfortable, but just push through because it looks fine.”

Moir’s other priority has been keying in on the team’s assets. “Really committing to the fact that if we stay true to what we’re good at and what we like to perform, that that would be enough, and we don’t have to necessarily try to attain all the things from each team or be the best at everything,” said Hubbell. “We have to be the best at what we are.”

And what that is, they’ve determined, is something Moir knows a bit about: the basics. “We love stroking, we love footwork, we love edge quality more than any flashy tricks or more acrobatic moments,” she continued. “We like the human connection of looking each other in the eyes and the simplicity that can come from something that looks simple, but really isn’t simple to execute.”

The free dance made its full public debut in October, via an at-home video performance submitted to U.S. Figure Skating’s International Selection Pool Points Challenge—a new event introduced to allow elite skaters a competitive opportunity in the wake of COVID-related event cancellations. Its only traditional outing so far came at late October’s Skate America, before a live audience of judges, tech panelists, and whimsical cardboard cutouts of fans, pets, and the GEICO Gecko®. Any subsequent outside feedback has also come long-distance—thanks to video submissions to judges and the federation—but despite the uncertainties of the season beyond the U.S. Figure Skating Championships, the team has found ways to stay focused.

“I’d say that staying motivated, at least for myself, has been pretty easy because first, we chose programs that we both really enjoy performing, and second, that we really connect to,” said Donohue. “And then on top of that, we have some of our closest competition here with us. So I think that’s a pretty fortunate situation for us.”

“And especially working with an outside choreographer has helped, I think, kind of put almost competition dates in our mind,” added Hubbell. “It’s almost like those little milestones where it’s like, okay, we know Scott will come back in a month and a half and he’s left us with these projects, and now let’s develop those. And then we get feedback from him.”

The open schedule has, in its way, taught patience. “There were some moments in there that maybe the choreography was a new feeling for us, and instead of having to make it work or simplify something because a competition was coming, we were just able to really commit to the project,” she continued. “And things have remained relatively stable, which is actually, I think, better in the long term for the development of the program.”

***

There’s another bond involved here—that between Hubbell, Donohue, and “Hallelujah,” a connection they’ve discussed since first using lang’s rendition for their short dance in the 2015-16 season. It’s a song closely tied to the early days of their partnership, when Donohue would sing the piece to Hubbell to ease her nerves. In the strangeness of this year’s off-ice off-season, coach Patrice Lauzon suggested the team choose a piece for their free dance that felt like home for them, or a concept that felt underexplored. The answer—including the choice this time of Buckley—was obvious.

“I think we feel like we never really got to fully experience what ‘Hallelujah’ was or could have been because it was missing the feeling that we get… I mean, any time we’d be in the car on a road trip, we’d play one, we’d talk about the other,” said Donohue. “Play the other one, we’d talk about the other one. I mean, they were always kind of synonymous with each other because of the balance of what they brought to the other piece.”

Lang’s version, with a more pronounced 6/8 beat and warmer arrangement, was the more obvious choice for a short dance pairing a Ravensburger Waltz and march. “And it was a good time, I think, in our career, the first year of coming to these new coaches, to explore the more hopeful and outward expression of ‘Hallelujah,’” said Hubbell. But the free was another story. “We knew that the Jeff Buckley version was very important to our relationship. And the Jeff version is Zach for me—like, that is him personified. So it definitely wasn’t going to be the right program without it.”

Dubreuil asked the couple which elements of each song they most wanted to utilize, and she, Moir, and music editor Hugo Chouinard took command of the final arrangement, while Karl Hugo composed a bridging piece to connect the two versions. The full edit has remained untouched since its creation—an unusual situation for elite ice dancers in general, and particularly for Hubbell and Donohue.

“We’re usually the ones nitpicking here and there,” said Hubbell. “And I think she knew that we were so attached to this song that even talking the first time, it was like, which parts do you like? And I was like, well, I like this verse and this verse, and I definitely want to use this verse. I think she knew that she had to take an outsider’s approach. Definitely there are verses that I am very attached to myself that aren’t in that song, and I just carry that energy into the music, even though the words aren’t there.”

Musically, Buckley’s version in particular can be challenging for a skater, incorporating unusual rhythmic moments and spare instrumental backing, while the soaring vocal line and steady pace of lang’s version demands creativity to avoid any obvious choices. An inability to choreograph on ice until after the song’s final edit disrupted the team’s typical hands-on approach to working through music, elements, and layout as an ongoing process.

“Twizzles, for example, was a part where we had a completely different feeling of where it should start, and Marie said something like, ‘oh, we should start it on this music,’ and we were like—” Hubbell offered a dubious expression. “’Not sure, that seems like the weirdest accent to start.’ And then we tried it, and it was like, wow.” So too, she said, with the choreographic sliding move that closes the program.

The outcome has been a program with each element custom-set to the music, intricately woven with even the subtlest accents—even if it means scrapping planned work. “We had a lift in mind that we wanted to put in, and we’ve been working on it throughout the season,” she continued. “And as cool as the lift is, it doesn’t seem to fit. It’s like too dynamic for the quietness of the music, so I think it goes into the log for another year.”

“Hallelujah” itself is often custom-modified by its interpreters. Leonard Cohen claimed to have composed around 80 verses for the song, shifting lines in and out in live performance and giving future artists an opening to craft the story they most wish to emphasize. Hubbell and Donohue similarly prefer to leave their own program open to viewer interpretation.

“We chose it because it’s something very personal and it’s very home for us, and even in the creation of the program with Scott, he never asked to go too far into that bubble,” said Hubbell. But for the team, the messages conveyed by Buckley and lang transcend words.

“[Buckley] has this kind of broken vulnerability about him,” said Donohue. “Like, you hear his voice, and you just kind of don’t move. Even the way he just exhales in the very beginning of the music—we didn’t cut that out because we really felt like it set the tone for what he was feeling and the way he was expressing the lyrics.”

Hubbell finds in Buckley’s rendition a sense of loss, “a painful kind of plea,” whereas lang’s version offers a sense of catharsis. “Jeff’s, each verse, you just feel a little bit more broken inside, a little bit more empty,” she said. “It’s part of why we put Jeff at the beginning, because we felt like we needed to build to a moment of, okay, everything is going to be okay. We all go through this, and there’s light on the other side.”

And then there’s the sense of subject matter—the interpretations of “Hallelujah,” of course, ranging from the spiritual to the sensual.

Of Buckley’s, Hubbell noted, “there’s an intimate, more of a human quality, where I feel like he’s singing about someone or about a lover. There are moments in that song where it feels so much more of a human to human connection. And then k.d.’s, where it really feels ethereal. It feels like she’s singing to God, it feels like she’s asking for some help or some guidance from something that is not understood.”

And while Hubbell and Donohue’s free dance is the merging of two musical perspectives, it’s good to remember that so, too, is its design—Moir joined by the veteran Dubreuil.

“For me,” said Hubbell, “working with them and doing their choreography, it’s like Scott is the Jeff Buckley version and Marie-France is the k.d. lang version. Scott has this grounded, very real—like, there’s no faking the emotion, there’s no contrived story, there’s just real connection, intimacy. You know, just that kind of earthy version that is Jeff Buckley. And working with Marie-France is a lot more giving, it’s a lot more bringing something to the audience that’s watching you, open and graceful and specifically very feminine.”

It’s been said that “Hallelujah” is a song that didn’t quite find its own final form until transformed by new interpretations—first by John Cale, who inspired Jeff Buckley, the impact of whose version then, on some level, inspired many others that followed.

And while it’s easy to look at one team’s free dance as a revision, or perhaps addendum, to an earlier short, it’s more compelling to consider the idea of a genetic thread between interpreters. As Cohen begat Cale begat Buckley and lang, Virtue and Moir’s own “Hallelujah” was choreographed by Marina Zoueva, who injected into that exhibition a few moves drawn from decorated pair Ekaterina Gordeeva and Sergei Grinkov. Hubbell and Donohue’s free in turn carries not only Moir and Dubreuil’s DNA, but echoes of their forebears. The complex but intimate transitions would’ve suited any Virtue and Moir free dance of the early 2010s; the emphasis on utilizing every inch of music through contemporary dance is a legacy of Jennifer Swan and Guillaume Cote.

But my own investment in identifying the program’s intricacies, from musical nuance to choreographic accent, is also just another way of interpreting the enigma that is “Hallelujah.”

“We hope that when people watch it, they have their own experience,” said Hubbell. “Even for us, each time we skate it or practice it, it can bring out a different feeling based on what we’re going through in that moment, so I don’t think there’s a story that should be known. I mean, ‘Hallelujah,’ for me, is like life. Whatever you need it to mean for you in that moment is what it should mean.”

—Two for the Ice

#scott #off ice #coach #press #liked the bit about specificity #laughed at the bit that zach could ever push scott

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gagmebucky · 4 years

Text

[steve. breeding kink. baby.]

“Wanna know what makes it worse?” Steve leans in and trails his nose along the inviting curve of your shoulder and neck until his lips are adjacent with your ear. “My sense of smell, it tells me when your body is just ripe for the taking. It’s like you’re fucking calling me every single month—begging me to put your little pussy out of your misery. . . fuck and fuck until you’re milkin’ my kid right outta me.”

in which you’re playing with a baby and steve can’t resist himself. (includes steve’s pov, avenger!steve rogers x girlfriend!reader, breeding kink, dirty talk, praise kink, mild daddy kink, unprotected sex.)

do not repost.

—

Procedure requires debriefing at the end of every mission. In this hours-long process, an agent must recap the objectives and the means used to achieve them; deviations to the original plan and why; as well as whether success was gained, and any other pertinent intel possibly acquired.

This routine is mandatory for all those working for and with an organization like S.H.I.E.L.D.; not even the Avengers are exempt from this. Except in this particular case where the titular first of the super-powered team has forgone the professional necessity, and instead, is in search of you.

Normally, America’s golden boy can handle the dangers that occur in such a violent but imperative field. He understands the risks and pressures inherent to his line of duty, and he’s always accepted it, dealt with it because the overall outcome dwarfs the bad.

On this particular assignment, however, the stakes were higher than usual and although the quick snap-quick decisions he made ultimately paid off, it didn’t soften the blow of the sacrifices made. Times like this, he has to wonder if it’s worth it.

The tension weighs on his shoulders and crackles underneath his skin; his synapses are frayed with the memory of each fallen agent, the orders he doled out preambling every one, and the electricity curls his fists and locks his jaw. It’s corrupting that logical part of his brain, and that craving for vengeance can’t be sated with his knuckles breaking a few punching bags.

In rare moments like these, when the serum is pumping through his veins like rabies, there’s one thing to straighten the edges and bring him back from the trenches. That solace is you; your alluring smile and twinkling eyes, the musical carry of your laugh, your seemingly innate ability to figure out what’s wrong and quell the turmoil cycloning inside of him.

So he doesn’t report to Fury like he’s supposed to, doesn’t go over the myriad of errors that only worsened as the mission progressed—no one stops him either.

When employees spot him marching down the corridors, stealth suit still on and rippling across his hulking mass, his strides colliding deafeningly with the floor, handsome and affable features tightened intensely, their only recourse is moved out of the way. Thankfully, they get the hint because if someone hadn’t, he knows he’d snap and do something he might regret.

His senses, formerly haywire in his manic state, have lasered into tunnel focus; his eardrums hone in on the specific sound wave of your crooning voice, and the olfactory nerves in his nostrils guide him in a trail to the source of your intoxicating essence.

Steve slams the door open and storms into the upper, restricted level of the headquarters. His hastened pace slows upon your increased dose, lulling his awareness and distance waning significantly. As his search nears its end, he recognizes where he’s at: the luxurious space designed by and created for Tony Stark.

The doors are open so he doesn’t waste time knocking (not that he possesses the patience to abide by his hundred year old manners). Upon entry, he’s taken the tranquility occupying the atmosphere and the sight of you bathed in the sun’s glow; bright rays beam through the impenetrable windowed wall of the tower while you gently rock the three month old baby perched on your shoulder, probably basking in the dual warmth of you and the star.

From afar, behind you, the brown-eyed girl’s mother stands. With her head tilted and soft gratefulness slanted into her lips, the strawberry blonde’s hip rests against the office’s wet bar and watches fondly as you effortlessly soothe her child’s fussiness into a thumb-sucking slumber.

“Aren’t they cute?” Pepper Potts remarks as he steps beside her. Her gaze maintains on his girlfriend and her daughter. “Morgan would not stop crying for the past few hours, and I did everything to calm her down. I was frazzled and at my wit’s end then I handed her off to her aunt, and now she’s as quiet as a mouse.” She pauses and spares a glance over to his adoration-fixed stare, a slyness twisting into her smile. “I don't know what stage you two are at but she’d make a great mom.”

Steve knows you occasionally babysit for the Starks, but he’s never seen you like this. You’re in your element, swaying back and forth while you hum inaudibly into the infamous delicate baby’s ear. Her small hands are curled around your neck and her face nuzzled into the crease of your shoulder, with the opposing thumb slid between her lips as her big chocolate eyes flutter into a peaceful rest.

Suddenly breathless—but it’s not from the exertion—he has to agree, nodding his head. “Y - yeah,” he answers to both statements because it’s fucking adorable, and while there’s never been a doubt about your caring nature, this cements the fact that you would be an amazing mother. The sensation boils in his gut, and his fingers twitch at his sides. “Has she always been this good with her?”

“Oh, yeah,” Pepper tells him matter-of-factly. “With her, other kids, too. She came with us to the park, and this one kid was screaming his head off and she just went over and poof! He was happy.” Her eyes are back on your slow pacing silhouette. “I would swear she was made for this. I bet she was a nanny in another life.”

His knuckles clench as her words ignite the simmering inferno of his being. Made for this, made for this, echoes in his head and he has to remind himself that he’s in public. But the primal image of you, radiating like an angel with a little piece of him growing inside you, has already carved itself in the forefront of his psyche.

Steve has never been into traditional gender roles, not even when he was in his time and it was the norm (he’s always been a very progressive thinker). But, God, he can’t deny the appeal now that he has you. There’s something so primally satisfying about having you at home, free of any worries that aren’t about your family, potentially—preferably—knocked up.

The carnal urge grips him more intensely than before. Usually, he can suppress that visceral desire to bury himself bare inside you and spill his virility until he further claims you as his. However, receiving a glimpse of you in this maternal state, it has every instinct screaming that you’re irrefutably perfect and primed.

As if on cue, you turn around with the effectively lullabied infant clinging around your neck. After a flicker of surprise, pleasant then concerned, you pad on over to carefully hand over Morgan to her thankful mother. Your attention rivets back to him with a knitted brow gaze.

“Babe, hey,” you greet in a gentle voice. Worry ebbs into your gaze amongst the usual stare of attraction upon dragging across the navy blue material that still clings to his muscular torso. You offer your hand, which he immediately takes, and you guide him out of the office into the hallway. The door shuts behind you, and the sectioned off level is empty, but your voice is still quiet when asking, “What happened?”

You stand barely a breath away, and the proximity pacifies his senses. His stance loosens while a smile upturns a corner of his mouth. “Nothing,” he answers then clarifies, “Nothing that matters anymore, anyway.”

The amendment dwindles your concerned curiosity because it’s honest—he doesn’t need to dwell when you’re standing here—and you can hear it; another lovingly scrutinizing up-and-down glance confirms that his earlier disquietude has settled significantly.

“D’you have fun back there?” he goes onto wonder, eyes flickering over to the closed door. Your earlier titillatingly visage snaps into his brain, and he subconsciously bites down on his bottom lip. “You looked like you were.”

You accept his subject-change with a nonchalant shrug. “Babies like me, and I like them,” you tell him, smiling at the admission. “What can I say?”

“I don’t know. Maybe that you want me to knock you up.” The words fumble out of his mouth before he thinks about it, and while he hadn’t intended on letting it slip, if he did, it would’ve been without the serious fluctuation he blurted it out with.

In a lame attempt to correct his slip of the tongue regarding a topic you both rarely discussed, he quickly adds, “I’m joking.” A surprised expression had crossed your features upon processing his former response, transitioning into something he can’t yet pinpoint if he likes. As if to test the waters—or dig himself into a deeper hole—he says, matter-of-factly, borderline suggestive, “But you know, back in my day, you’d probably already have a few popped out by now.”

“Mr. Rogers!” you gasp in an almost-shocked tone, but your cheeks split with a devious grin. “Are you telling me you want to be a daddy?”

Disheveled by his mission, then upended by your placating presence, he’s more awkward than the day he met you. “Fuck. Look, I’d never pressure you, okay?” For the millionth time, the previous scene plays mentally; he exhales heavily. “It’s just you with her, and I. . . never mind.” He shakes his head, deciding he’s still on the edge from both events today, and dismisses his animalistic inkling. “Act like I didn’t say anything.”

You fold your arms and nod.

“Uh-huh, daddy,” you drawl, scintillating in mischievousness that simultaneously has his heart skipping a beat and his cock jumping. Your smirk widens before disappearing beneath a cascade of feigned innocence. “We can just act like you don’t want me to have your kid.”

His lips part at your teasing twist of his words. “That’s - that’s not what I said.”

“Isn’t it?” You lift a brow. “It is. So, maybe I should find a guy who does. I think any other man would take immense pleasure in going condomless inside of me.” One hand wiggles into your jacket pocket while you peddle away from his orbit; a rectangular plastic ruffles as his reflexes instinctively catch it. “You know, I think Bucky would really appreciate me. I bet he’d have the manners to really wife me up and make me—“

He knows you’re poking fun of him; playfulness alight within your gaze that he usually enjoys. In actuality, he understands there’s zero truth in your jesting and he’d be more amused than jealous. However, currently, the circumstances have corrupted his sensibilities.

“That’s not funny.”

Your laugh echoes musically. “It’s not ‘cause it isn’t a joke,” you say between your giggles, your amusement pardoning your spacial awareness. “I mean—Steve!” Your yelp is louder and even more musical when he surges forth and reigns you in.

Air expels from your chest as his body cages yours against the wall. Using one hand to brace himself above you, his opposing appendage tilts your dazed blinking up. “Now do you really think I don’t want you to carry my kid?” he rumbles. “Because if it were up to me, I would’ve taken claim to your womb the second I saw you.”

Your breathing hitches, and you try to remain unaffected but he’s too keen on your reactions to be fooled. “O - oh?”

“Yeah.” His tongue swipes across his bottom lip. “Wanna know what makes it worse?” He leans in and trails his nose along the inviting curve of your shoulder and neck until his lips are adjacent to your ear. “My sense of smell, it tells me when your body is just ripe for the taking. It’s like you’re fucking calling me every single month—begging me to put your little pussy out of your misery. . . fuck and fuck until you’re milkin’ my kid right outta me.”

A sound, hybrid between a moan and a gasp, escapes your throat; humor eviscerated, desire exudes from you and submerges his senses in a provoking intoxication. The rush sinks into his brain and triggers that visceral frenzy within him but he has no interest in suppressing it anymore.

He releases a guttural groan and grabs your hips. His big hands splay on either side, thumb slightly kneading back and forth, and he draws you in closer. “I can smell you right now, too. Not only how wet you’re gettin’ but that it’s that time for you, isn’t it?” he purrs and nips at your lobe. “You’re mine for the taking.” His teeth catch your pulse, sucking a mark onto the vulnerable skin. “Hm, baby?”

“Y - yes!” you moan wantonly loud as your weight sags into his embrace. “Always.”

“Good—” His hands cinch on your flanks and abruptly hoist you up: prompting you to wrap your legs around his waist and your arms to encircle around his neck. “—cause holding back with you is gonna be impossible.”

With your body clutched around his abdomen, he heads for the closest empty room, scoped out via his enhanced hearing. Unceremoniously, he turns a handle and breaks the lock of the unused office space; two doors down from the main room, it’s smaller but it has a sturdy-looking desk in the center.

He kicks the door shut and sets you down as your lips find his. Although you’re sat down, legs dangling over the wooden edge, you keep your elbows hooked around the nape of his neck and coax a ragged groan out of his chest with the deft stroke of your tongue.

“Shit, baby,” he breathes and parts from you in order to yank your jacket down your shoulders. Tossing it off the side, he reveals a braless tank top and your nipples he can see have pebbled underneath. His imagination takes off once more, envisioning what the already perfect twins will look like in the wake of his seed taking root inside you.

His blood pumps viciously, flowing downward and flooding his cock to strain beneath the oppressive stealth-suit fabric. Like you’re reading his mind, you unhook the utility belt and similarly shove it off somewhere on the side.

Something rustles, and it’s the condom you’d thrown at him. Absentmindedly tucked under the cinch of the belt previously, it falls into your undressing hands. Your eyes rivet up to him, lashes fluttering big, as you hold it between two fingers: halfway offering. “What are you gonna do, daddy?”

At that particular moment, it occurs to him that you’re doubting his seriousness. While abundantly clear you want this, you’re dubious on whether he’s going through it. Which is preposterous, but he figures that the look on your face when he spills inside you bareback will only further his orgasm, consequently heightening the odds of his end-goal.

He plucks the packaging from of your grip, holds it up as your gazes clash and makes a show out of discarding it out of reach. Then he seizes your knees and slides your ass to the edge so your center is flushed against him, rocking into his hardened imprint.

“You,” he answers your query, tone a growl, as he peels your jeans off. He continues on just to shred your panties. “I’m doing you. With nothing to separate me from you, nothing to keep you from your rightful destiny: knocked up with our baby.”

“Please,” is all you utter, but the room’s thick with sensory evidence of your essence.

Spreading your thighs as far as possible, he glances down to spit lewdly on your glistening mound; a long dribble of saliva coating your eager button and slit. He uses his thumb to smear it all over, mixing with the puddle you’re creating, dipping into your sticky folds with his middle finger.

The whole time, you’re choking with these hungry and appreciative little noises. Likewise, you’re watching as he prepares you thoroughly and roughly to wring the cum out of him. “S - Steve,” you mewl coherently and buck into his messy caress. Your fingers are tugging pleading on the lower half of his uniform. “I need you. Please!”

It is about damn time.

His control has been witting away since the first time you called him daddy. He swiftly wrenches the suit down and exposes his leaking, throbbing cock to your tunnel of relief. His size always dwarfs your kempt triangle; an initial observation one might come to is the improbability he won’t fit. But he does, every single time, and in this special instance, he’s going to ensure all of his formidable length is buried in your fertile heat.

He rasps his tip over your clit, plastering his translucent white pre-cum over the engorged nub, then traces down the crease of your slit. As he prods in, his hands span your thighs and help open up your elastic entrance for his ravenous cock. He stretches your tightness slow but unyieldingly while you both watch with labored breathing, transfixed by the sight of your dripping core enveloping his veined and tanned angry stalk until he’s nudging your cervix.

“Good girl,” he grits out, strangled by the electricity prickling his nerves. He slips support underneath your ass, intertwining from the inner to the outer so when he hauls you up, your knees are bent over his elbows. “You ready to make me a daddy, baby?”

“Yes!” You nod quickly with a moan. “Shit, you’re big—and deep. Really fucking deep.”

He chuckles huskily because if you think that now, he can’t wait to see you once he’s truly plundered new depths. “Now, you just hold on tight and let me do all the work. I only want you to focus on givin’ me a baby, okay?”

In the middle of an abandoned office room—possibly a storage area—he heaves you up and drops you back down. Your arms curl around his neck, hands twisting into his suit, while he alters between gravity and his hips jutting forth to drill inside you.

Without any mind to those around you—just you and him—he fucks you with every ounce of strength coiled into his super-charged build. Ignoring the fact that door is unlocked, broken more specifically, and the possibility that there’s likely high quality surveillance cameras watching, your shared sounds of carnality fills the room in between the harsh collision of skin.

Each propelling thrust seems to jostle further than further, carving himself into your inner walls. Like he said before, he handles all the work, effortlessly bouncing your sporadically clenching channel with his inhuman strength and stamina; leaving you to accept and bask in the stimulation his cock is providing and the gift he’ll be depositing inside of you any time now.

Your lips are breathless in his ear, gasping, “Daddy, please,” that has him climbing the rope faster. The beg pours gasoline on an already roaring fire, igniting wildly to burn up his legs then his stomach and on its way to take him under.

“Y’gonna make me a daddy, baby? You’re gonna be a pretty lil’ mommy and take care of us? Is that what you want?” he croons, identifying the way you tighten as your steadily approaching orgasm. “Y’gonna have your pretty pussy squeeze me until I’m shooting my load and knocking you up?”

He’s pretty sure your nails have punctured the suit’s resilient material. “S - Steve, fuck! Please. Yes! Cum inside me—cum inside me—“ you cry out with genuine desperation that his limbs tingling numbly. “I want it. I want you. Please. I wanna feel you!”

His jaw locks and works you somehow even harder. The room is completely engulfed with you, your arousal, the potency of your ovulation, and your future with him; once he releases, it’ll only seal the fact that you’re his and belong to him (as well as vice versa).

“Who’s gonna be a daddy, baby? Who are you making a daddy, baby?” His words are practically slurred while fever coalesces across his entirety. “Who owns your pretty little pussy and your womb?”

“You—Steve—daddy,” you sob as your orgasm seizes up around his cock, giving him no other choice other than to: “Cum inside me, daddy—!”

Something beastly rips out of his chest, and without protest, he gifts you exactly what you want. He burrows into the absolute hilt and fires inside you for what feels like forever. Spurts of ooze finally wane, nudging your fruitful cervix, but even then, he doesn’t dare retreat from your heavenly depths.

The aftershocks force him to set you back down on the desk, still buried and keeping you stuffed. His face nuzzles the junction between your neck and shoulder languorously, and you lazily run your fingers through his hair, walls periodically pulsating.

When he regains the energy, he straightens and pulls out of you until his bulbous head is blocking your entrance; he stops there because he realizes something. “It’s gonna leak, and as hot as that is, I need to keep you full, baby.” Abruptly, he hauls you up and shuffles the position so that he’s sitting on the desk, and you’re sitting on his cock.

Your sensitivity flares around him, and you squeal. “F - fuck!” But you adjust to comfortability, blinking at him. “For how long?”

A smile curls into his lips, and he strokes your cheek while his other hand lays on your belly. “For as long as it takes.”

[masterlist / feedback]

#steve rogers x you smut #steve rogers imagines #steve x reader #captain america x reader #steve rogers smut #marvel reader insert #marvel smut imagines #my writing #marvel imagines #my fics #mANY ERRORS

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blankdblank · 3 years

Text

Ash Pt 6

The final day before the feast and tasked to organize the library you had once slept in found the King who simply strolled in and sat down on a chair not far from the shelf you had just started. “Yellow stones are given to intendeds, back in Nunieffe.” His eyes had darted to you from his hands clasped to dangle between his now settled thighs formerly shifting side to side. “Yellow is my favorite color, my question was out of habit, clearly the tradition does not carry on here. I am glad I get to wear a yellow stone that won’t bleed to emerald later.”

“Bleed, your stone changed colors?”

You nodded and said, “So you save money when you are wed it changes.”

“You have a heart that millions would march, clamber and crawl to catch a fraction of devotion to it.” That had your eyes on his revealing the beginning of tears you were on the edge of blinking away from embarrassment. “Title or no title you will be loved by thousands and adored and cherished, and one day should you choose someone worthy of your trust and affections in return it will not be out of cruelty or a trick of chance or malice. Eru our creator has granted each of us a One, the person who we are meant to find, and I have no doubt as he brought you here that someone will prove themselves worthy of a heart such as yours. Because you are so very much the one out of reach from mere fools and villains. Please do not doubt that.”

“You really mean that?”

You whispered and he shifted in his seat to angle his legs and body a bit more towards you, “With every fiber of my being. That is the truth.”

“Thank you, for telling me that,” you said looking to the books again you returned upright again in some means of organizing the titles you could not read at all or decipher any pattern between their order now.

“You are welcome, and not alone. Celeborn and myself our first marriages were arranged by others in means of an intended coup.” That had your eyes on him and he nodded, “My former wife’s father and uncle were plotting along with Celeborn’s and her uncle, with whom she was having an affair. It is all rather complicated and to be honest it was entirely humiliating upon its being uncovered by my people here. I am rather glad only my mother was aware of it as my father had passed on. We were still at war and I was informed upon my return that she had fled to the West while Celeborn’s former wife and her lover were bound and forced to sail under threat of execution.” Your eyes looked over his straight face void of any pain or fear in the simple stating of facts, “Celeborn has since fallen in love and remarried and conceived heirs since. She is half Hobbit as I have mentioned before so there is ample hope to bear many more.”

“And why haven’t you chosen a Hobbit bride then?”

That had him chuckle deep in his throat and he flashed you a playful grin, “I am not so fortunate to have a personality many Hobbits find a handsome trait in a partner. Not many if at all would choose a King. I tend to brood.”

“Now that’s a bold faced lie,” you said spreading his grin in adding, “Maybe it’s the angle they look up at you from.”

“Possibly,” he hummed back playfully.

“Why swans? If you don’t mind my asking, the apartment doors, the crown, the ring?”

“The apartment was by chance that it happened to be empty enough for you to decorate as you wished to. You had a chance to choose between our other apartments, do swans trouble you another could always be crafted for you.”

You shook your head, “Just odd, we had flying boat races when I was growing up and only sons can compete but I had been building one myself to try and bring the prize back home again since the last time my father had raced his ship the Emperor. I don’t think I’ve seen a swan up close in person, books sure enough, cygnets seem adorable enough to want to keep one.”

That had his grin creep out and he hummed, “There is a flower festival in Rivendell as our next holiday, the lot of us could travel there together and that time of year there should be ample swans and little cygnets there for you to admire.” You glanced his way and he said, “All of the Kingdoms are eager to meet you. I warn you now they will take no heavily as a blow and most likely enforce that we move the festival to where you are willing to travel.”

The arrival of a messenger however had him straighten up and ready to accept the letter that the Elleth grinned and passed over to you, “Thank you.” You said eyeing the envelope that rested on top of the books you had in the bend of your arm. Promptly you turned and offered the envelope to the again grinning King. “Fingers crossed it’s not more poetry.”

Softly he chuckled and broke the seal while you added the books to the shelves and shifted on your feet to face him in the ease of the letter inside out and open. “Good news, this is from King Thror, he would not spare a poem for none but his wife Niro, Dwarf tradition unless some sort of competition is afoot.” Subtly he wet his lower lip reading the letter he translated for you in a means of checking if you were feeling well and that they were eternally grateful and in your debt for having bested the beast bent on snatching their home away. “See, all good news. I did receive notice from Lord Girion as well yesterday in a means to thank you and pay his gratitude and apologize for his words. He asked if you might accept a letter to that effect from him or if he has burned that bridge, so to speak. It would appear he was dictating after having shared in a mushroom circle with his friends over a dinner which began a poetry circle resulting in ample letters and drama between clans in Dale and even a couple of confused Dwarves in Erebor.”

“Ah, well that would explain it. No burned bridges,”

“Well your response certainly by his account was the kindest of responses the group did receive, one had an ax thrown through their front window.”

You nodded then accepted the letter that was written in different markings than the one in Dalion and you softly sighed, “There is a great deal of languages I will have to learn isn’t there?”

“There are a great deal of Elves who have been reluctant or lax on learning the written word, we have ample scribes in our kingdom,”

“Oh,”

“I am not bothered to translate or dictate your communications. Two letters so far, far from strenuous work. Quite a welcome addition to my duties.”

“You would think a King wouldn’t want more work on top of running a kingdom.”

“One would assume so, but this was a welcome distraction.”

“What exactly do you do all day?” You asked and to himself he chuckled at the blind question as you got to focus on the books again.

“It varies. Checks on import/export reports, levels of our stores and goods produced, reports on weather and news from other kingdoms. News on patrols and word transcribed from Ents and animals on the movements of goblins, trolls and orcs. Then there are internal matters that must be discussed, territories and property rights cases between citizens who wish a neutral ruling in these matters that blend into the rare cases which result in judgments and imprisonment. I also oversee the public celebrations, alongside musical and choral groups and their planned performances I ensure are scheduled to be well enjoyed by as many of our people as possible.” His lips pursed a moment, “Other than numbers of our herds and care of steeds reports I cannot think of more tasks at the moment, past my son and charge of young Estel when he dwells here.”

“That’s not nearly as busy as I had imagined for running a kingdom.”

“I did warn you I am more of a public spokesperson between kingdoms. See, ample time to play your personal secretary. Some of our scribes have gathered learners booklets to gift to you later on. Our languages can be quite extensive to learn in a matter of years.”

“I am quite adept at languages, you may just be surprised.”

“Oh I am infinitely surprised with you, as I should be,” his words accented with a pop of his smile wider in your glance his way that had the corners of your mouth tick upwards again.

Wine was needed. Stunning didn’t come close to the splendorous string of ballrooms connected by garden ballrooms lit by strings of lanterns and crystal lanterns. Two dances was all the King had secured for himself to open the Feast dances post opening speech and the first three courses. Three glasses half the size of his had been emptied by you and mirrored by his full glasses in watch of each interaction across the dance floor with those who you accepted as partners. Sure he had secured another dance five dances from now but every brush of hands or arms in the various touch starved dances left him with fingers tapping to the arm of his chair to mark each brush of skin and lift that kept him from his turn for an up close look at the dazzling Queen who seemed to be having one hell of a time. Just the smile split wide across your face would have been enough to cause a heart to skip. But the spread of a glittering glow on your skin and star speckled bead decorated hair topped with the swan crown also accented by your new jewels and the bright moonlight seemed to leave a wake of Elves in awe of the dark haired Queen who seemed to be infecting every Elf here with her smile and giggles.

Five dances and the bold King now on his feet strode in and with the offer of his hand accepted the smile he was now contracted with to guide the woman of the evening into place. Then he had to let go, for an agitating tease of a dance with only a couple lifts, which even after your wine still had your hands, however gracefully placed, on his shoulders or upper arms as if he could dare to drop you. Spins and woven patterns filled the next four dances accented by arm movements until a break for more stomach lining food was announced and around his elbow the King felt that same hand he’d been stealing brushes of his fingers against in every motion he could. There was something intoxicating about you when you relaxed, when you opened up. And as if starving the King who ensured you were on his free side as his friendship was arguably your strongest basked in the first glimpse of a truly dynamic woman who could command a room by means of a single smirk or playful glance.

Under the moonlight for air to break and steady himself from finishing off another glass of wine that would hinder his efforts of memorizing your debut to this elaborate side of their world. Yet in his lean forward to rest on his knees a sudden giggle had him upright and with a smile to the arrival of his friend who clearly had finished off yet another glass of wine. “I may need to play weakling and sneak off to bed. But do save me some more of that cake, I know there is some more somewhere.” The words were accented by obvious intoxicated giggles, a pleasant sight over the alternative of wine triggered tears. That was what you had said and in the haze somehow that was lost to a maze of a rant all he could do was chuckle and wade through in its evidence of a clear sign that your train of thought was spiraling towards a crash. Once on your feet you had settled on the bench beside him perhaps a tad closer than you would sober with a hint of your weight in a shift to use his white and silver clad self as an anchor.

The song was mentioned along with the dance you had looked to with a somewhat mournful stare to the dance for lovers and couples that included a trade off of a kiss. Not the action but that hint of pain that bubbled to the surface and the King readied to say something, anything, but you stopped him. Brief and unexpected a press of your lips to his, that seemed to be aimed there already in the turn of his head, completely emptied his mind. Then in your pull back from the two second stunner every emptied inch of his head flooded with questions and millions of rationalizations of what happened and thousands of proper things to do at this moment. Yet all he could do was chuckle in a sense of relief to your smiling statement of, “There, a first, no espionage in that for our shared freedom from our captors.”

Right where your hand had just been his moved on his thigh that had been used to anchor you onto your feet again in a rise that had his body up as well right after. “No, no espionage.” He hummed and to your every swayed step by your side without touch his body seemed to be in withdrawal from and screamed for more of it.

Giggled nonsense was his companion to the door that he opened for you to welcome you home and the spine tingling brush of your fingertips down from his wrist over the back of his hand on the door handle had his mouth open when you said, “Two weeks of nothing but freedom. Quite a crime in that. To have such fun and then be left to ourselves again. Enjoy your festivities, kind King, and bravo on guiding me home.”

Again there was nothing to do but chuckle and reply, “Sleep well Queen Jaqiearae.” There was so much more he wanted to say but in the magical twitch of your fingers he saw the buttons on the back of your neck loosen and to the hand that held the front of your gown the image of that bare strip of skin where that strap once was had been replaced by the sight of the door he shut in your stroll into your room. Clearly intoxicated, he kept repeating, nothing concrete could be taken of this trade of intimacy. Yet that kiss and the brush of his now tingling hand troubled the rest of his evening, dreams and wake to a breakfast cart alone that left him with just more plans on how to approach the cusp of courtship forcing contact that you had initiated. Hopefully before the second evening of the feast would begin and he was lost for words at how the next marvel of a gown would drape over your magnificent self.

“Magnificent”, he repeated the word to himself in a questioning mantra as to why he had chosen that word, at least until a tiny head popped out from underneath his breakfast cart to reveal the Prince tired of not being discovered who altered the mentality of the King instantly to focus on the small boy and his playful games.

“Oh no,” you grumbled into your pillow underneath all of your covers as the night rolled back into your mind. Somewhere between the wine and your already awkward social skills around the infuriatingly understanding King, who had been accepting each and every flub that you had thrown right in his face to your own deepening ditch of embarrassment, you had gone and kissed him. As if the headache wasn’t enough from the wine you had been tasting the night before not evenly leveled with food to soak it all up due to the length of time spent dancing the mental memory of that kiss slammed around in your head to remind yourself at how stupid that was to even dare to touch his arm let alone kiss any King let alone this one you were trying to befriend. “I’m gonna have to move, simple as that. I can’t keep living here now.”

To a knock the arrival of a cook with a special drink to aid in relief from any hangover had you poke your head out to the Elf whose eyes shifted to your bare arms and collarbones over the blanket you held to your chest. With a grin you said, “I am in a towel. Apparently I fell asleep after a bath.”

With a grin he came closer and handed you the glass off the tray on his palm, “This will aid in any discomfort you feel, Your Highness.”

“Thank you,” bringing it closer to your lips you asked, “How long does it take to get used to the wine?”

In your sip he replied, “It depends. Grape wine usually takes longer however I find the darker berries are quite agreeable and taste finer upon many palates.” He motioned his hand to the doorway stating, “An undercook is here currently and your breakfast should be completed shortly. We have arranged rotations for these two weeks to aid in the recovery from each night of samplings while you adjust.”

“Thank you.” Upon being alone again you shook your head and finished your drink that did help at least with the effects of the wine but not the mental parade of thoughts on the kingdoms that had been shared with you and which you might prefer to be banished to when the hammer was surely set to drop. For the morning at least pants a tunic and vest were added for what you hoped to be a means of hiding in the forest to continue the plan of where to move next and how to leave gracefully after the two week festivity.

“Ada,” Legolas with a wide smile said in his plop into his chair at their shared breakfast. The King’s eyes shifted to him from his glass of the drink to clear his head from the edge of the wine. “What are your plans today?”

After a deep breath the King looked down to lift his fork to start on the meal the thanked undercook had left once it was all set out across the table for them, “I have a few tasks to oversee then I wished to stop in on Queen Jaqiearae and see how she fared this morning.”

“Good, how do you plan on offering courtship?”

That had the King’s eyes snap up to him again, “Pardon me?”

“The offer of courtship after your moment of intimacy. How do you plan to offer it because Glorfindel and I have been compiling lists of ways that might be quite unique and vary in chance of surprise unless you have already discussed that upon escorting Queen Pear to her bed.”

Open mouthed Thranduil leaned forward into the edge of the table, “You witnessed, who else was with you that has seen us?”

“It was myself and Glorfindel, Estel was hiding in the gardens again as we were in search.”

“No one is to be told.”

Legolas smiled again, “Absolutely not, we would never spoil the surprise.”

“No, Little Leaf, Queen Jaqiearae was under the influence of the wine. There is no grounds for courtship as clearly there was no justifiable right for me to offer to settle a courtship from an accidental intimacy.”

“I saw the both of you Ada, there was no stumble into a lock of lips. There was intent.”

“Little Leaf,”

“Wine was involved, but surely, at least you have to present the trunk of your One token.” The King’s lips parted again and he said, “At minimum. You are solidifying into a firm friendship and clearly she did not show he would refuse an offer of even marriage. There is a bond there please do not doubt that, she could be your One! You have to show her your trunk!” Thranduil sighed and he added, “Or I will make sure she finds it.”

“I will bring my trunk into her path. For now there will be no talks of courtship. I will inquire as to her condition and try to ease out any wrinkles this encounter has caused upon our friendship.”

“She is bound to be your One. Simply has to be.” Thranduil from his fork and knife slicing a piece of his food looked up to his son curious of his reasoning for that assumption. “Has to be.”

Atop a raised root you sat with view of a stream that a group of ducks led their ducklings towards a food source farther down out of view. Suddenly a blue jay landed in front of your boot then took off again with a pleased chirp, his absence however turned your head to the sight of the King who had apparently used the bird to track you down. “Hey, ducks.”

With a smirk he turned his head and nodded to the sight of the final family of ducks off towards food, “Yes, near lunchtime they will be back to their nests in our red garden.” Back to you his eyes shifted in the turn of his head asking, “How did you rest?”

“In a towel,” His brow arched up and you said, “Apparently I got out of my gown and then took a bath and went to bed to fall asleep. Maybe I was just tired, odd.”

To himself he chuckled, “I believe we all have had a morning of that nature when first dabbling with wine.” His eyes scanned over you and he asked, “How did you enjoy the opening night of the festivity?” Nerves at a peak to the question that was inching on what the relationship could turn out to be if he couldn’t ease any embarrassment from the kiss.

“It was fun. I certainly danced,” you paused and asked him at the puzzled expression on his face, “I didn’t do anything embarrassing did I?”

His brow arched up and he replied, “No, not that I can recall. Why would you assume you had?” He asked hoping to lure the answer out of you to begin talks of the night.

“I went from dancing to waking up in a towel.” You said and his lips parted in a mental whirl. You didn’t know, the wine had blurred that encounter. Only to bleed into questions of how could you not know, not remember anything. Instantly his chest tightened up in his body’s reaction to the fact that you didn’t remember the moment with him at all his mind could not stop replaying.

“That is quite a gap of time to miss.”

To the prickle of your cheeks you said, “I know we talked and you told me goodnight. You sure I didn’t do anything foolish?”

“No,” he replied uncertain if he was pleased or unhappy with this forgotten moment. “Nothing foolish comes to mind.”

“Did you sleep well?” You asked and his chin rose a moment then lowered in his body’s ease into the realization and try to relax again now he knew he shouldn’t talk about the kiss at all instead of the ploy to calm your nerves as he had prepped to do.

“Yes, fairly well, I usually do not dance in our celebrations beyond a few assigned dances with my eldest friends whose spouses prefer to skip those dances. So I was amply exhausted and able to sleep. I was wondering if I might ask your opinion on something.” You nodded curiously on his fidget of his feet under his weight, “There is a trunk of items I am curious if you might be able to make heads or tails of it.”

“Oh, sure,” you said in a shift of your legs off the root. Promptly his hand snapped up for yours and after a glance at it in pause yours laid on top of it and down you hopped to stroll at his side once his hand lowered to the retraction of yours. Aloofly, or with the impression of that the King managed to hold a steady stream of chatter all the way to his apartment where he took notice of the One trunk that his son had set up in his sitting room beside the table there.

“So you have no clue what is inside of it?” You asked in a glance up at him, “It doesn’t seem to be shaking or making any sort of alerting noise.”

Again your eyes fell to the trunk from his intense stare he couldn’t control while the electric feel of his fingers just a breath from his you had stroked the night before had his entire body in a fight to not just clutch onto it for dear life to feel that sensation again. “No. It does not make a sound or move. However I have had it for some thousands of years and still seem to be stumped on what it might yet construct, as it contains pieces to form something. An aggravating mystery all its own I cannot make heads or tails of.”

“Oh, well then,” you said in a glance around before to the motion of your hands over the table the table cover expanded to its full length and went rigid in a spell that would expand as needed depending on what was inside to the scoot of each chair to make room. “First thing first. Empty the lot.” The wide smile on your face to the adventure had his try for a response lodged in the back of his throat for what seemed to be a groan of sorts that melted into a cough that allowed him excuse to fetch some juice and glasses for the pair of you. The acceptance of which his arm just about fell slack to the glide of fingers along his in your blind, “Thank you.” The numbness from the shock of the touch left his arm in a tingling mess to your sip of the juice, “Mmm, lovely,” you murmured in the lower of the glass that was settled on the table to ease the open of the lid once lock latches were flipped upwards.

The largest piece, an intricately carved and detailed piece of wood was inspected in its three foot entirety until at the notice of a symbol and number had it set down to lift the next that would be added to another pile. “Aha, a pattern,” you said and over your shoulder he hunched with cheek barely an inch from yours and back kept from contact with yours for another jarring experience for the lack of distance for the seemingly touch starved King who now just yearned for more and more. “See,” you said avoiding the knot in your stomach to his closeness to point to the number and symbol, “The pieces have numbers and symbols, so if we match them then we can go by group and find out how they intermingle later.”

“These are from our Doriathian alphabet, actually.” He commented with a nod and around you he strode to grab a piece of his own to inspect them against the trio of piles he added that and each after to existing or new piles. Eventually the table was coated in piles of less than helpful progress of the parts, but progress all the same. He had inspected these pieces century after century and never had those marks been there before.

There was only one explanation, he had to be yours and you his, Ones. Meant to find one another to begin at the creation of this mysterious adventure of a trunk. Heavily his heart would thunder in his chest to the every detail his eyes took in of the adventure thrilled smile on your face. Unknowing. You didn’t know. You couldn’t remember. How could you not remember? Could you feel the same energy in each brush of fingers? Each moment of his being merely a breath away? When he could so easily just angle his head and kiss those same lips that parted for each tempting honey dripped word he clung to. He could, it would be so simple, so easy, you were right there. And looking at him. Ear to ear a smile split across his face in a bashful turn to the trunk to bring out more pieces including another smaller chest and one even smaller than that until it sat empty and he had to look, not stare, to you again.

“Hmm,” from the King who seemed to be nervous about something the more you had pulled out you looked to the medium chest that your brows furrowed in the stubborn latches that refused to rise from the press of your thumbs.

“Ah,” Thranduil said. And in a fumble of a chain from underneath his robe and tunic a chain was produced ended by a mithril glowing antler just over an inch long. That in a move to your side with arms around your shoulders he was able to slide a hidden hatch over to press the antler into the hole there lengthwise it fit perfectly to set off both latches that snapped up by use of the unique key. “Only the key opens that and the smaller,” around you he moved to collect the smaller box he opened the hidden hatch he turned to face you and asked, “You wouldn’t happen to have anything that might fit this one? Would you? Only you would.”

“Um,” from his pleading gaze to the hole you looked confused at the meaning until your brows furrowed at the shape that couldn’t be mistaken. Rectangular with what seemed to have a bite taken out of it. “Can’t be,” you murmured in a reach for your enchanted bag that from the side bag you pulled a salve tin that once in your palm the lid was wound off of it for the King to eye various buttons and small keys you had found through the years in an odd collection of mysterious origins. Though from the mix a purple sapphire now glowing on the end of what you had taken as a silver branch matched his key perfectly as a half inch antler on the end of an identical chain that you used to press the stone into the slot that opened the locks. Widely the King smiled to the box with pride at the ultimate proof while instead of putting the necklace away you simply looped it around your neck and put the tin away to bashfully try to focus on the chest in hand.

In his same velvety hum of a voice he stated, “These appear to be securing pegs and wooden screws.”

Curiously you felt around the chest until between your fingers a motor of sorts was lifted, “It’s a clock,” you said and his eyes were on you again with brows lifted in awe of an answer after he had failed all this time alone to have mastered this mystery.

“A clock?”

“Yes,” you said lifting the hands you found next also shaped like antlers, “Have to be, these are the hands. Odd,” again you caught his gaze that deeply seemed to be yearning to say something, “You don’t have clocks here, did you buy this from Dale or Erebor?”

“No,” he said with a wet of his lips, “We spoke of those who are destined for each of us yesterday by Eru?”

“Yes, but, the clock?”

“We were destined to meet, you and I. Our kin are granted trunks that only our Ones can aid in opening and constructing.”

“Ah.” You said looking to the chest you set down again uncertain of how to answer only luring him to sit beside you with his chest set beside yours in a lean in to lure your eyes back to his.

“It has been an honor to meet you finally. Among others this is a culture variance I would imagine and for now, perhaps you might kindly assist me in constructing this clock of ours. We have only one moon to do so.”

“Or?”

“Normally death occurs.”

“Ah,”

“Yes. However daily slotted times to focus on this and we may yet best it within the final eve of the feast.”

“Doubt it would take that long. I’m fairly good at puzzles.” You said and were grateful for the clock heart that could distract you from whatever parade of doubts and questions was exploding through your mind at the time.

“Ooh, these must be antlers,” he said. And chose the chair beside yours that had scooted forward to be used by you. Cunningly in a special careful and quiet maneuver to steal another inch closer to your side, to be both within chance of stolen casual glance of you and to be near enough to dare risk a brush of fingers or an acceptable graze of elbows in the midst of this yet to be mastered feat.

Master of puzzles indeed, he pondered to himself in his ninth lingered stare at the final snap of the round metal casing around the clock mechanics. The completed marvel now had a face etched with hoof prints glowing at the antler formed hour and scattered glittering elk grazing across the top half of the rotating face that would have a second view for the nighttime hours.

“Round,” he muttered in a rise to his feet now knowing what the round group of pieces must have been called for. In the area you cleared in the magically shuffling piles he lowered the pile and helped you to order each piece in that group to work around the clock casing. Each varied home for wooden pegs or screws he answered to help you form what you inspected to be a barrel to settle oddly beside the half a head he had been able to work together on his own.

“Progress report, barrel clock, and antlers.”

“This is a head I am certain of it. Merely these pieces are particularly obstinate to not want to fit together for me.” He said shifting a trio of pieces you had seen him fighting with earlier before his last break to stare at you.

“Hmm. Maybe it’ll make sense-,” the sound of the warning bell to two hours to the opening of the feast had both your heads turn to the door.

“Ah, yes. It would appear it is time to ready for the feast.”

“Right. Perhaps tonight I might skip the wine.”

“Nonsense you have no reason to skimp on imbibing tonight. Enjoy yourself this feast comes once a year.” He paused then couldn’t help but add, “Unless you have recalled an unwelcome event you would care to not repeat from last night before you were off to bed?”

You simply shook your head and stood leaving the clock on the table in the momentary furrow his brows to the continued uncertainty of just what you might be trying to avoid. “I will see you at the feast I suppose,” you said on the way to the door. “I’ll let you change or whatnot, make sure I don’t interfere with any more of your baths, King Thranduil.”

When you glanced back however he stood with a smile on his face in a nod of his head you mirrored, “You shall see me there, Queen Jaqiearae. I look forward to the masterpiece you shall be donning tonight.”

“Right, I’m sure you’ll look spectacular as always yourself.” You said then left the apartment and the King in a focused purse of his lips on his way to strip and bathe knowing his son would be in soon to question him on the progress of his request.

Under the surface of his hot spring Thranduil could hear the muffled words, “Clock!” and “-knew it!”

To the surface he went after granting the intrusive duo of not just his son but Lord Glorfindel as well to rest with arms on the edge of the spring to hear the latter say, “Congratulations! The Kingdom shall be so pleased to hear of this, the visiting Lords as well, you have found your One at last!”

Legolas smiled, “And now will you hear of our list of courtship surprise proposals? I have a few you may find especially exciting to prepare I thought up myself.”

His smile dimmed as Thranduil flatly stated, “There will be no proposal of courtship for the time being.”

Legolas, “But-,”

Glorfindel, “Surely, Mellon, Queen Jaqiearae will grow accustomed to our culture fairly quick as she has made herself quite the lively Queen, why last night nearly half the Lords remarked on how she made even the glummest of our kin spark up with glee, yourself included, and they did not even witness your intimacy!” He accentuated with a nod to send his point home only to make the King groan to himself.

Legolas, “We still have kept that point to ourselves, no one knows of it beyond us three.”

“Exactly!” Thranduil stated making their brows arch up to his now tensed shoulders he sank more in the water in a means to hide from their inspecting view.

Legolas, “Ada?”

“Queen Jaqiearae does not even know of the intimacy, so there is no need for courtship proposals or even inklings that one may yet be considered!” The King barked then turned muttering to himself in a sink to his nose that sent a few bubbles out into the spring he now glared at.

“WHAT?!” the pair asked then moved around the spring to be back in his stern view.

Glorfindel, “How could she not know?!”

“I don’t know!” Thranduil replied, “However from the dancing to her doorway for a goodnight her memory is conveniently absent! She has no recollection of having kissed me and I have made no mention of it to spare her the apparent embarrassment the notion of such a gesture made to me without the aid of libations!”

“Whoa,” Glorfindel said with his hand extended. “That is far too harsh,” in a sigh he crouched down with ankles crossing to match the Prince’s in a plop to sit in the now teary eyed King’s view after his sink to his nose again to hold back from the explosion of this uncertain storm that had now brewed inside his chest. “What did you say, about last night? Surely she mentioned something of it.”

Thranduil blew more bubbles from his huff and his mouth surfaced to say, “A towel was mentioned, that even the bath she had apparently taken was forgotten and she fell asleep in her towel.”

Legolas, “Nothing about you?”

“The question was offered as to concerning a possible embarrassing action was taken by herself while she was inebriated to the point of amnesia.”

Glorfindel, “You answered in the negative I presume.”

“I informed her no embarrassing act was committed in a means to goad her from her silence on the topic and yet there is no memory of what happened.”

Legolas, “Then she knows,” That had his father’s eyes on him again in a slightly pained stare, “No, surely. Nothing was embarrassing and yet she still is stunned to silence, either she is processing her own actions or possibly in wait for you to make your intentions known. Perhaps that is her culture, yellow stones for proposals, surely there must be subtle hints or a statement of some sort that may yet be added into conversation casually to settle this matter and assure the Queen that intentions are true towards courtship.”

“Little Leaf, we have discussed the matters of ignorance on one another’s culture, surely still she would not expect me to know proper phrases or gestures such as yellow stones from her lost lands.”

Glorfindel, “I agree with Legolas, the Queen must know,” Thranduil sunk again as his brows drooped in a look forward to ignore the hopeful duo. “And we will prove it to you!”

Before he could turn his head they were on their feet and hurrying to the door, and out in the hall when he could call out, “Do not confront her on this matter!” The front doors to his apartment opened then shut making him grumble again to himself and sink in the water, “Make her flee the kingdom is what they will achieve.”

Pt 7

@devilishminx328, @fandomsstolemylife00, @lilith15000

#Thorin x OC #The Hobbit #Feast of Starlight #Tipsy #Stolen Intimacy #Hangover #Hiding From the King #Questions of a chest #Ones Chest #Do You Have the Key?#What is it?#Plots & Questions #Legolas #Glorfindel

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dreaminpeaches · 3 years

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Humble Pie AU Headcount!

Aye, here's a cool concept I saw from @paraesthetics

and @maddgicalgirl two really cool creative peeps who posted about their AUs for their paracosms, Memento Amouri and Zombie Lane! I don't have as many as them and they're not as cool as any of those but we go:

Humble Pie - OG paracosm, Beau, a former high school bully and star football athlete returns to his home town after flunking college, coming home brings back both nostalgic and bitter memories of his past, his memories haunt him so bad that they manifest into a alter ego of himself called "Stye" who makes a deal with Beau that if he can get at least half of the people he bullied to forgive him, then Stye will leave Beau forever, but if Beau fails Beau has to leave forever (either by running away, isolating himself from others even his friends and family forever so he doesn't hurt anyone else never to be seen again or ........), at the same time he finds himself falling in love with the new dorky girl in town

Bodyswap AU- this isn't really an AU more like a weird dream Beau has after eating some weird cake his little sister made for him and he was too nice to say no (it had glitter in it), the events only take place for about a day, but its basically a Kimi No Nawa (Your Name) parody just with alot of more comedy where Beau and Bonnie swap bodies, Beau spends the day in Bonnie's body as an angry gremlin woman, and Bonnie spends the day in Beau's body as a pretty boy. They both struggle with each other's usual tasks Bonnie struggles to fix cars and Beau having to wear a maid outfit, and doing anime dances on the spot while having to playfully flirt with a bunch of nerds at Bonnie's maid cafe job. Bonnie in Beau's body has more heavy moments because she can see Stye and meets him for the first time, Stye knows its not Beau in his body so he can't have as much "fun" toying with him as usual, but kind of with the "help" of Stye Bonnie is able to hop through Beau's memories (mostly his childhood ones), a lot of the memories stop halfway through or are purposely faded because how heavy they weigh on Beau's mind. Devin is the one who tries to research and help Bonnie and Beau get back to each other's bodies because while most of Beau's family welcomes Beau's brighter attitude, Dev is the only one who knows something is up.

Genderbend AU- In this AU Fem! Beau was a star cheerleader as a Regina George type of bully, telling lies, spreading rumors, and subtle causing chaos throughout the school while being seen as a beloved queen at the same time, she too flunks out of college, and returns with regrets, but as where Beau takes on a more punk cowboy aesthetic, Fem! Beau adopts a more gothic rockabilly witch aesthetic, Fem ! Beau always had an interest in witches/witchcraft since she was little (because her dad would read her a bunch of fairy tales and Fem! Beau always found the witches to be the more interesting characters in the stories) but was often made fun for it to the point where she kept it a secret, but now returning to her hometown, Fem! Beau decides to fully embrace her interest she dyes her blonde hair black and starts to study witchcraft in an effort to combat the bad vibes she's been feeling. Whereas original Stye is more of an evil Jojo Stand, Fem! Stye is more along the lines of a mix of Tomie and Junko Enoshima, she still enjoys toying with Fem! Beau and doing a noblewoman's laugh, the deal between them is still the same. Whereas Beau's bio dad left him, Fem! Beau's bio mom left her family and Fem! Beau has a really close relationship with her Dad, Lou , who works at the town's library as a libarian, he remarries a nice woman who tries to spend time with Fem! Beau by doing traditional girly activities (a thing that reminds Fem! Beau too much of her past self, but she still tries to grin and bear it), Fem! Beau works part-time at her step mom's boutique helping customers pick outfits and find the perfect outfit for them. Dev is the same tho, but Fem! Dev is a bit more into comics than games but still basically the same nerd (like Futaba from Persona 5), Fem! Beau stilll gives Fem! Dev advice on school and boys (but kind of subtlely telling Fem! Dev that most guys are pigs anyways), Carrie who is now Carter in this is a very rowdy but loveable little boy who is always seen with a cape and a wooden sword that his big sis made for him in shop class, he carries that thing with him everywhere and will fight anyone who's mean to his sisters. Like Beau, Fem! Beau loves her siblings to death and likes spending time with them

Beau has an interest in wild west media, Fem! Beau is more interested in stuff like Grease, Rebel Without A Cause, Bewitched, and West Side Story.

Male! Bonnie is mostly the same like with Dev is more into comics than anime, he has a bigger interest in clowns than mascots and wants to show kids that not all clowns are scary, he works as a children entertainer at a local fun center (like a Chuck E Cheese or Discovery Center), whereas Bonnie was taught ballet at a young age, Male! Bonnie was taught to play the piano, but he enjoys playing instruments like the keyboard, talkboxes, and one of those things that look like a musical note with a face on it (idk what they are call), he's trying to make a one-man-band performance to go along with his performance as a clown.

Whereas Bonnie and Beau meet a lot to work on Bonnie's car, Male! Bonnie and Fem! Beau met up a lot because Carter really likes to play at the fun center where Bonnie works, and when Male! Bonnie first saw Fem! Beau, he thought she was Raven from Teen Titans.

Bonnie and Beau's relationship is like Beauty and Beast, while Fem! Beau and Male! Bonnie is more like Jessica and Rodger rabbit.

Resident Evil Village AU: This one is basically Beau is Ethan, and Carrie takes the place of Rose, and that's it! To be honest, I didn't think how everyone else would fit in this AU (an older Dev might be Chris?? maybe), I just like the idea of Beau going through a ton of crazy spooky stuff to save his little sister, and would totally sacrifice himself like Ethan did at the end if all the chips were down, and older Rose is what I think an older Carrie would look like

Walking Dead (the game) AU: Same thing as RE but Beau lives through all the seasons with both of his siblings, I just dont really dig the idea of Carrie ending Beau like how Clem had to do with Lee (that's too much man), but I could see Beau trying to teach Carrie to defend herself during the apocalypse as she gets older he tries to distance himself a bit letting her be more independent but still nearby if she gets into trouble, I could also see Dev joining another group for a bit because he doesn't enjoy his brother bossing him around so much, he ends up returning but I could see tensions raising between those two in this situation, they would end up meeting Bonnie along the way, Beau would find her a bit annoying at first but end up catching feelings for her. I could see them making their own settlement, and trying to find other lost individuals.

#paraportal #paracosm #paracosm: humble pie #para: beau #para: bonnie #para: devin #para: carrie #paracsoms Au

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jacksgreysays · 3 years

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For fake title: still waters (run deep) character: Shisui and or theme: Uzushio

The fisherman doesn't look surprised when Shisui arrives, not by the suddenness of his appearance or his age or the fact that, excepting the crow on his shoulder, he is entirely alone. No, the fisherman is not surprised, but that doesn't mean he's relaxed either: a large man, nearly two heads taller than Shisui with muscle honed through hard work. But it is a civilian level strength. For all that the fisherman is accustomed to shinobi, he is no match for one.

"You're headed to Uzushio, huh?" the fisherman says, less a question than an accusation without any heat.

"Yes, I am" Shisui answers anyway with a polite sort of cheer; there is a reason why he's the one being sent to Uzushio and not one of his cousins. "Tazuna-san said you're the best at navigating the whirlpools."

The fisherman gives him a skeptical glance which is fair. What Tazuna actually said was that if Shisui was fool enough to go to Uzushio, then this particular fisherman would at least make sure Shisui's fool head didn't get dashed on the rocks of the shore.

But the fisherman shrugs, accepting enough, and tilts his head at a small wooden boat tied to the dock with nets bulging with fish. "That one's mine. Are you in a rush? Because I have to get these to the monger first."

"No, I can wait," Shisui says, because that's the polite thing to do and if this fisherman is his best way to Uzushio then its worth waiting for... except, as Kansoku reminds him with a sharp tug on his hair, he is actually kind of in a rush. Shisui is a shinobi, so of course he's smelled worse, and so he doesn't wrinkle his nose at all when he offers, "Would you like some help? Four hands are faster than two."

"Alright, kid, I'll take you up on that." The fisherman's expression lightens into a wide, friendly smile and Shisui who can't help himself, returns it with one of his own. The fisherman introduces himself, "You can call me Kaiza."

---

A few weeks ago, Hidden Rain broke their decades-long silence with increasingly concerning news:

Hanzo the Salamander long dead.

A heretofore unknown organization leading the village.

Active recruitment and retainment of various S-rank shinobi.

A grudge against one Shimura Danzo, former council member of Hidden Leaf.

One year--maybe even as little as a month or two previous--would have made this the most momentous occasion in international shinobi politics since the last world war.

Unfortunately, it only just barely makes top three in the past year.

---

"So, kid," Kaiza says as they're coasting over the waves at a clip much faster than Shisui would have thought possible for the small wooden boat, "You're from Leaf, right?"

"Yes." It's literally on his forehead and more straightforward than some of the other villages' symbols, but Shisui gives him the benefit of the doubt. Kaiza is a civilian, after all. And to be fair, some of the Uchiha elders were considering changing it to match the new regime, but Fugaku-san--sorry, Hokage-sama, Shisui's still getting use to it--felt it would be best to at least try to maintain a semblance of stability.

He doesn't know if news of Konoha's turmoil has reached this far. Or if the people of Wave even care. They certainly didn't bat an eye at Shisui's questions of their new neighbor--old neighbor? returned neighbor?--all incurious shrugs and silence or entertaining but unhelpful tall tales.

"Have you ever met another shinobi?" Shisui asks conversationally, though he already knows the answer to that question. "Am I your first shinobi passenger?"

"I've seen a few Mist ninja from a distance. A very far distance, thankfully," Kaiza responds, casual and earnest; Shisui sees no reason to doubt him. "Never had a ninja join me sailing on my boat before, though. Not one that helped me unload my haul. You're a good kid."

Shisui has killed more men than there had been fish wriggling in those nets. He appreciates the sentiment anyway. Kaiza is an honest sort of man, Shisui is glad to have met him.

He could use more straightforwardness in his life.

---

The Mist Rebellion overthrew the Yondaime Mizukage after an almost tidy public assassination and thirty six hours of civil war with minimal casualties.

Terumi Mei, newly coronated Godaime Mizukage, only mentions the "grace and goodwill of allies." Neither of those words particularly apply to the surly looking Momochi Zabuza standing two steps back and one step to the right of her, but if there is another ally in the works they're not claiming the limelight.

Hidden Mist has always been a tumultuous village. Tidiness aside, nothing was surprising about it.

---

It's strange.

When Shisui pictured Land of Whirlpools, he had a vague idea mostly cobbled together from the grey, cloudy skies of Mist, or the eternal deluge of Rain, or even the foggy, sepia tones of Wave.

He was not expecting clear skies almost impossibly blue and lush treetops tall enough to rival the forests of Konoha. The beach is pink.

It's vibrant. It's strange. There's a giant chakra turtle monster happily splashing in the shallows, waving tendrils in their direction as a greeting.

The sharp jagged rocks and erratic whirlpools between them and the shore are real, at least, so Shisui hasn't been completely fooled, but from the wry, almost apologetic smile on Kaiza's face, Shisui's not great at hiding his hurt.

Kaiza pulls out a decorative coin--what Shisui had thought was some kind of superstitious fisherman charm that he'd touched before they set sail from Wave--and passes his thumb along the surface. After a moment or two, the swirling slows, the water calms, and the passage is traversable. A small figure appears on the pink beach. The giant chakra turtle monster reaches a gentle tendril out and is metaphorically met half way by an arm absolutely minuscule in comparison.

"Don't worry, kid," Kaiza says reassuringly. It's the kind of statement that would be accompanied with a clap on the shoulder, but whether the fisherman can sense Shisui's betrayal or, more likely, he's been around more shinobi and knows better, he keeps his distance. "Tazuna vouched for you and you didn't even get mad when the monger threw a fish at you and said it was a cultural tradition."

Kansoku had been less than pleased and Shisui's shirt still smells like fish.

"You'll be fine. She'll like you."

---

There is an oasis in Land of Wind. An earthquake in Land of Hot Springs caused the controlled collapse of a temple and new arrangements of the surrounding town's infrastructure. A dilapidated and forgotten shrine in the outskirts of Land of Fire was completely relocated across the ocean. Only the first has any sort of influence on shinobi politics and even that has more to do with the Yondaime Kazekage's sudden attitude adjustment than anything else.

But the revival of a nation thought long dead with the power to back it up?

Well, even if Konoha is still struggling to cobble together a government, it's the sort of occasion to send one of their best and brightest as an ambassador even if there's no firm idea what might be on the other end of the journey.

---

"Hello, Uchiha Shisui of Hidden Leaf," says the girl on the shores of Land of Whirlpools. Somehow, even with the grown man twice his size and the giant chakra turtle monster, she's the scarest thing on the beach.

Which is still bafflingly, vibrantly pink.

"I heard you were asking questions about Uzushio," she says, with a smile as dangerous and beautiful as the land she's made her home. "Let's talk."

A/N: Sometimes, you’re in a writer’s block and a prompt just punches you into the right headspace. Thank you, damnsmartblueboxes. (You know I have so many Uzushio feelings, how dare you! :D)

If anyone wants to ask me questions about this, please do. Please.

Oh, but I should clarify here: this was written intending to be in a post-Split Gardens!verse. But if you’re reading this you probably have already read some of the Gardens!verse stuff so...

Also, yes, Kaiza is the fisherman who would’ve been killed by Gato and now kinda works for Shikako as a more active and less suspicious Sazanami from the Land of Stone Arc. I mean, kinda all of Wave works for Shikako? But in a much more benevolent way than that might imply. They’re fond of their weird neighbor with her giant chakra turtle monster.

(Also, also, yes, Tetsuki Kaiza does get her name from this Kaiza though in the Naruto world she actually never has the name Kaiza. She goes from orphan Tetsuki no-family-name to either Tetsuki Utsugi or Agent Shu. Depending on how fucked her situation is)

Also, also, also: Ask Box Advent Calendar 2020!

#jacksgreyson #damnsmartblueboxes #ask box advent calendar #ask box fake fic titles #writing #fanfiction #dreaming of sunshine #naruto #the many gardens of shikabane-hime #still waters (run deep)#kaiza #shisui uchiha #shikako nara

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365days365movies · 3 years

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May 9, 2021: A.I. Artificial Intelligence (2001) (Recap: Part Two)

So, this is an adaptation of Pinocchio, right?

I mean...yeah, it definitely is. It’s a story about an artificial boy, brought to life and given to a parent to raise, learning lessons about humanity all along the way. Hell, they use the Collodi story as an element of the plot, so there’s no way it isn’t an adaptation of the original story. Here, I’ll break it down.

First, he’s given life by Hobby, who represents both his creator and the one who gives the artificial boy life. In other words, he’s a portmanteau of two characters: the Blue Fairy and Geppetto. The latter created him, while the former gives him life. Really, I’d argue that he’s more of the Blue Fairy.

So, who’s Geppetto? Obviously, Monica. She’s the (semi) loving parent that ACTUALLY makes David her son...literally. Remember the Winter Soldier awakening sequence? Monica is a flawed parent who obviously doesn’t quite know how to care for the little artificial boy, similar to how Geppetto is normally portrayed. And, like him, she never gets to teach her new son about the world before releasing him into it.

Of course, Geppetto didn’t physically abandon Pinocchio in the woods, but whatever. At least this Pinocchio’s been left with his Jiminy Cricket. Unlike the traditional version, though, this one is fuzzy.

Teddy, the stuffed bear supertoy, is clearly meant to be Jiminy Cricket, the conscience meant to guide David along his way, and along his journey. He subtly guides David, giving him advice that he sometimes ignores. And, given that David probably wasn’t built with a conscience, it makes sense to give him an internal one. Speaking of, let’s talk about David, because this simile might actually be more important than one would think in understanding this film.

David, of course, is creepy as FUCK. He’s trying hard to be a real boy that his mother can accept, but he’s so goddamn creepy. And initially, I thought that this might just be bad acting or direction. But then, I walked away for a little bit, and I realized something: what if that’s on purpose? Because here’s the thing: David isn’t real. And neither is Pinocchio, but with Pinocchio, you KNOW that.

Pinocchio is, after all, a puppet. And that point is obvious visually, both in the basically flawless Disney film, and in the original book. But David is, after all, played by an ACTUAL real boy, and therefore appears real to the audience. So, how to make him appear artificial? By emphasizing the fact that David’s behavior and actions are not natural. They are programmed and artificial. And so, when the journey begins, David hasn’t yet learned to be a real boy. And therefore, he isn’t yet real. And now, of course, he’s on the journey not only to become a real boy, but also to earn that chance. Just like Pinocchio.

But we’re only one-third through this film, and a LOT more happens in the story of Pinocchio. I’m not suggesting that this movie perfectly follows the book or Disney film by any means, but it’s definitely following some of its structure. And if Pinocchio is known for anything, it’s known for its most iconic villains and adversaries. I’m talking these guys:

And I’m...looking forward to seeing how these guys are adapted? Wait, wait, wait, hold on...I railed HARD against Act One (which you can read right here), whose writing and plot I still think were poorly thought out. But, after this mental recontextualization...am I actually enjoying this movie?

Shit, maybe. Thinking about it in these terms actually helps. OK, Kubrick, Spielberg...hit me with your best shot.

Recap (2/3)

With Act Two, enter Gigolo Joe (Jude Law). Yes. Really.

Gigolo Joe is a “lover Mecha”, a model built specifically for sexual gratification. Joe’s an interesting case, as he’s obviously built to be quite seductive, in a physical and a sensual manner. He’s been hired by a woman trying to get away from her abusive husband, and proceeds to woo her with sweet nothings, easing her discomfort with the idea of sleeping with a Mecha. And I’m gonna be honest: Joe is a CHARMING motherfucker, smooth and slick as a robot ought to be, with the ability to change his appearance and voice to please his customers.

And as I’m watching him, trying to figure out if he’s the Fox or the Cat, or both combined, he’s suddenly framed for murder by the jealous husband of one of his clients! Shit! Understanding exactly how fucked he is, he takes the necessary precautions and removes his identification chip. I’m not entirely sure who he is, but I’m interested in revisiting that plot, that’s for sure.

David, meanwhile, is wandering around in the woods, where he comes up with the idea to find the Blue Fairy from Pinocchio, who will surely turn him into a real boy. But while wandering through the woods, what does he find but another group of robots like himself, scavenging from parts that’ve been dumped in the woods. And the CGI here is absolutely fantastic looking, as the robots outfit themselves with technology.

Also stumbling upon this display is Joe, on the run. But as they all appear in the same place, the moon suddenly rises. And it’s gorgeous.

This is not the Moon, but a gorgeous hot-air balloon from something called the Flesh Fair. With men on the ground on specialized motorcycles called “Hounds”, and with an eye-in-the-sky belonging to commander Lord Johnson-Johnson (Brendan Gleeson). He and his men hunt down Mecha to take them to the Flesh Fair, where robots are destroyed for the sport of human observers.

They chase down and capture all of the robots assembled, including David, Joe, and THIS spectacular special effect.

Yeah, holy shit, that’s amazing.

Anyway, it’s here that David loses his conscience, as Teddy falls out, only to be brought to the Flesh Fair and taken as a lost toy, placed in the lost-and-found. And, now that we’re here, it’s time we acknowledge what this appears to be: Stromboli’s Circus.

Given the fact that the “puppet show” is clearly replaced by the abuse and destruction of robots (including one weirdly resembling and voiced by Chris fucking Rock of all people), and that it has a ringmaster in the form of Johnson-Johnson, this is definitely meant to be a replacement for Stromboli’s puppet show. Albeit, one colored by anti-Mecha racism, but whatever.

A little girl wanders up to the cage where David’s kept, and confuses him for a human child. She goes to her father, who’s astonished by the existence of a robot child, and he goes to Johnson-Johnson, who gives not a single shit, and brings him up to be destroyed with the rest in the flesh fair. Dude REALLY doesn’t like robots. David, understandably scared, has his Damage Avoidance System kick in, and he grabs onto Gigolo Joe for safety, dragging him along to their deaths.

As he’s about to be melted by concentrated acid in front of a crowd (all of whom are affected by seeing a child be melted, robot or not), David cries out in fear. This leads to the audience STRAIGHT-UP REBELLING, as they refuse to believe that David is anything but human. He immediately takes off, alongside Gigolo Joe and Teddy.

We head back to Cybertronics, where it’s revealed that David is actually a facsimile for Hobby’s departed son. Which is...weird. Real talk, this is extraordinarily odd, and Hobby clearly has some massive issues he needs to figure out. In the forest, Hobby and Joe get to know each other. He recommends getting to Rouge City to find the Blue Fairy, whose location they will ask for from a “Dr. Know”, as there is nothing he doesn’t.

Also, Jude Law’s giving a fuckin’ soliloquy about robot prostitution right now, and I’m not gonna lie to you; I can dig it. It’s a Queen Mab speech about gettin’ down on that robodick, and it’s actually quite entertaining. And with that, we not only head to Rouge City, but we also discover who Joe is meant to represent. If Rogue City is Pleasure Island (and it OBVIOUSLY is), Gigolo Joe is meant to be both the Fox (AKA Honest John, AKA J. Worthington Foulfellow), AND Lampwick. Neat! Anyway, Rouge City...

...is not even a little subtle, goddamn. It’s literally a sex-island. And yet, once there, David is introduced to Dr. Know (Robin Williams), a kiosk where you pay for information, which makes me appreciate Wikipedia so goddamn much. To the good Doctor, they ask for the location of the Blue Fairy. And by accurately using keywords (a skill under-appreciated in Google Searches), they get an eerie reading of Hobby’s book, beginning with a Yeats poem.

With this information, they discover that Hobby (and the secret to David becoming a real boy) is at the end of the world, in a place called “Man-hattan”. David is filled with new determination, but Gigolo isn’t quite sure if this is real. David fights back, saying that his mother loves him and that the Blue Fairy must become real. But Joe insists that she likely did not love him, and simply liked how she made him feel. And while David refuses this idea outright...he’s almost certainly correct.

They go outside, and Joe is about to be taken away by the police, presumably for that murdered woman. However, the helicopter they came in is taken by David, who plans to use it to get to Manhattan. Joe escapes and joins him, and the two head to Manhattan.

End Act Two. See you in Act Three!

#a.i. artificial intelligence #ai artificial intelligence #steven spielberg #stanley kubrick #haley joel osment #jude law #frances o'connor #brendan gleeson #william hurt #science fiction may #sci-fi may #user365 #365 movie challenge #365 movies 365 days #365 Days 365 Movies #365 movies a year #usermichi

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spilledreality · 4 years

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Sporting vs Herding

I wanna talk about two blogposts, Seph's "War Over Being Nice” and Alastair's "Of Triggering & the Triggered." Each lays out the same erisological idea: that there are two distinct modes or cultures of running discourse these days, and understanding the difference is crucial to understanding the content of conversation as much as its form. Let's go.

One style, Alastair writes, is indebted to the Greco-Roman rhetorical and 19th C British sporting traditions. A debate takes place in a "heterotopic" arena which is governed by an ethos of adversarial collaboration and sportsmanship. It is waged in a detached and impersonal manner, e.g. in American debate club, which inherits from these older traditions, you are assigned a side to argue; your position is not some "authentic" expression of self. Alastair:

This form of discourse typically involves a degree of ‘heterotopy’, occurring in a ‘space’ distinct from that of personal interactions.

This heterotopic space is characterized by a sort of playfulness, ritual combativeness, and histrionics. This ‘space’ is akin to that of the playing field, upon which opposing teams give their rivals no quarter, but which is held distinct to some degree from relations between the parties that exist off the field. The handshake between competitors as they leave the field is a typical sign of this demarcation.

All in all, it is a mark against one in these debates to take an argument personally, to allow arguments that happen "in the arena" to leave the arena. This mode of discourse I see exemplified in LessWrong culture, and is, I think, one of the primary attractors to the site.In the second mode of discourse, inoffensiveness, agreement, and inclusivity are emphasized, and positions are seen as closely associated with their proponents. Alastair speculates it originates in an educational setting which values cooperation, empathy, equality, non-competitiveness, affirmation, and subordination; this may be true, but I feel less confident in it than I am the larger claim about discursive modes. Provocatively, the two modes are dubbed "sporting" and "herding," with all the implications of, on the one hand, individual agents engaged in ritualized, healthy simulations of combat, and on the other, of quasi-non-agents shepherded in a coordinated, bounded, highly constrained and circumscribed epistemic landscape. Recall, if you are tempted to blame this all on the postmodernists, that this is exactly the opposite of their emphasis toward the "adult" realities of relativism, nebulosity, flux. Queer Theory has long advocated for the dissolution of gendered and racial identity, not the reification of identitarian handles we see now, which is QT's bastardization. We might believe these positions were taken too far, but they are ultimately about complicating the world and removing the structuralist comforts of certainty and dichotomy. (Structureless worlds are inherently hostile to rear children in, and also for most human life; see also the Kegan stages for a similar idea.)

In the erisological vein, Alastair provides a portrait of the collision between the sporting and herding modes. Arguments that fly in one discursive style (taking offence, emotional injury, legitimation-by-feeling) absolutely do not fly in the other:

When these two forms of discourse collide they are frequently unable to understand each other and tend to bring out the worst in each other. The first [new, sensitive] form of discourse seems lacking in rationality and ideological challenge to the second; the second [old, sporting] can appear cruel and devoid of sensitivity to the first. To those accustomed to the second mode of discourse, the cries of protest at supposedly offensive statements may appear to be little more than a dirty and underhand ploy intentionally adopted to derail the discussion by those whose ideological position can’t sustain critical challenge.

ii.

Seph stumbles upon a similar division, though it is less about discursive and argumentative modes, and more about social norms for emotional regulation and responsibility. He calls them Culture A and Culture B, mirroring sporting and herding styles, respectively.

In culture A, everyone is responsible for their own feelings. People say mean stuff all the time—teasing and jostling each other for fun and to get a rise. Occasionally someone gets upset. When that happens, there's usually no repercussions for the perpetrator. If someone gets consistently upset when the same topic is brought up, they will either eventually stop getting upset or the people around them will learn to avoid that topic. Verbally expressing anger at someone is tolerated. It is better to be honest than polite.

In such a culture, respect and status typically comes from performance; Seph quotes the maxim "If you can't sell shit, you are shit." We can see a commonality with sporting in that there is some shared goal which is attained specifically through adversarial play, such that some degree of interpersonal hostility is tolerated or even sought. Conflict is settled openly and explicitly.

In culture B, everyone is responsible for the feelings of others. At social gatherings everyone should feel safe and comfortable. After all, part of the point of having a community is to collectively care for the emotional wellbeing of the community's members. For this reason its seen as an act of violence against the community for your actions or speech to result in someone becoming upset, or if you make people feel uncomfortable or anxious. This comes with strong repercussions—the perpetrator is expected to make things right. An apology isn't necessarily good enough here—to heal the wound, the perpetrator needs to make group participants once again feel nurtured and safe in the group. If they don't do that, they are a toxic element to the group's cohesion and may no longer be welcome in the group. It is better to be polite than honest. As the saying goes, if you can't say something nice, it is better to say nothing at all.

In such a culture, status and respect come from your contribution to group cohesion and safety; Seph cites the maxim "Be someone your coworkers enjoy working with." But Seph's argument pushes back, fruitfully, on descriptions of Culture B as collaborative (which involve high self-assertion); rather, he writes, they are accommodating in the Thomas-Kilmann modes of conflict sense:

iii.

Seph and Alastair both gesture toward the way these modes feel gendered, with Culture A more "masculinized" and Culture B more "feminized."[1] While this seems important to note, given that a massive, historically unprecedented labor shift toward coed co-working has recently occured in the Western world, I don't see much point in hashing out a nature vs. nurture, gender essentialism debate here, so you can pick your side and project it. This is also perhaps interesting from the frame of American feminist history: early waves of feminism were very much about escaping the domestic sphere and entering the public sphere; there is an argument to be made that contemporary feminisms, now that they have successfully entered it, are dedicated to domesticating the public sphere into a more comfortable zone. Culture B, for instance, might well be wholly appropriate to the social setting of a living room, among acquaintances who don't know each other well; indeed, it feels much like the kind of aristocratic parlor culture of the same 19th C Britain that the sporting mode also thrived in, side-by-side. And to some extent, Culture A is often what gets called toxic masculinity; see Mad Men for a depiction.

(On the topic of domestication of the workplace: We've seen an increased blurring of the work-life separation; the mantra "lean-in" has been outcompeted by "decrease office hostility"; business attire has slid into informality, etiquette has been subsumed into ethics, dogs are allowed in the workplace. Obviously these changes are not driven by women's entrance into the workplace alone; the tech sector has had an enormous role in killing both business attire and the home-office divide, despite being almost entirely male in composition. And equally obvious, there is an enormous amount of inter- and intra-business competition in tech, which is both consistently cited by exiting employees as a hostile work environment, and has also managed to drive an outsized portion of global innovation the past few decades—thus cultural domestication is not at all perfectly correlated with a switch from Culture A to B. Draw from these speculations what you will.)

There are other origins for the kind of distinctions Seph and Alastair draw; one worthwhile comparison might be Nietzsche's master and slave moralities. The former mode emphasizes power and achievement, the other empathy, cooperation, and compassion. (Capitalism and communitarianism fall under some of the same, higher-level ideological patterns.) There are differences of course: the master moralist is "beyond" good and evil, or suffering and flourishing, whereas Culture A and B might both see themselves as dealing with questions of suffering but in very different ways. But the "slave revolt in morality" overwrote an aristocratic detachment or "aboveness" that we today might see as deeply immoral or inhuman; it is neither surprising nor damning that a revolting proletariat—the class which suffered most of the evils of the world—would speak from a place of one-to-one, attached self-advocacy. One can switch "sides" or "baskets" of the arena each half or quarter because they are impersonal targets in a public commons; one cannot so easily hold the same attitude toward defending one's home. This alone may indicate we should be more sympathetic to the communitarian mode than we might be inclined to be; certainly, those who advocate and embody this mode make plausible claims to being a similar, embattled and embittered class. A friend who I discussed these texts with argued that one failure mode of the rationalist community is an "unmooring" from the real concerns of human beings, slipping into an idealized, logical world modeled on self-similarity (i.e. highly Culture A, thinking over feeling in the Big 5 vocabulary), in a way that is blind to the realities of the larger population.

But there are also grave problems for such a discursive mode, especially when it becomes dominant. Because while on the surface, discursive battles in the sporting mode can appear to be battles between people, they are in reality battles between ideas.

iv.

As Mill argued in On Liberty, free discourse is crucial because it acts as a social steering mechanism: should we make a mistake in our course, freedom of discourse is the instrument for correcting it. But the mistake of losing free discourse is very hard to come back from; it must be fought for again, before other ideals can be pursued.

Moreover, freedom of discourse is the means of rigorizing ideas before they are implemented, such as to avoid catastrophe. Anyone familiar with James Scott's Seeing Like A State, or Hayek's arguments for decentralized market intelligence, or a million other arguments against overhaulism, knows how difficult it is to engineer a social intervention that works as intended: the unforeseen, second-order effects; our inability to model complex systems and human psychology. Good intent is not remotely enough, and the herding approach cannot help but lower the standard of thinking and discourse emerging from such communities, which become more demographically powerful even as their ideas become worse (the two are tied up inextricably).

The fear of conflict and the inability to deal with disagreement lies at the heart of sensitivity-driven discourses. However, ideological conflict is the crucible of the sharpest thought. Ideological conflict forces our arguments to undergo a rigorous and ruthless process through which bad arguments are broken down, good arguments are honed and developed, and the relative strengths and weaknesses of different positions emerge. The best thinking emerges from contexts where interlocutors mercilessly probe and attack our arguments’ weaknesses and our own weaknesses as their defenders. They expose the blindspots in our vision, the cracks in our theories, the inconsistencies in our logic, the inaptness of our framing, the problems in our rhetoric. We are constantly forced to return to the drawing board, to produce better arguments.

And on the strength of sporting approaches in rigorizing discourse:

The truth is not located in the single voice, but emerges from the conversation as a whole. Within this form of heterotopic discourse, one can play devil’s advocate, have one’s tongue in one’s cheek, purposefully overstate one’s case, or attack positions that one agrees with. The point of the discourse is to expose the strengths and weaknesses of various positions through rigorous challenge, not to provide a balanced position in a single monologue

Thus those who wish us to accept their conceptual carvings or political advocacies without question or challenge are avoiding short-term emotional discomfort at the price of their own long-term flourishing, at the cost of finding working and stable social solutions to problems. Standpoint epistemology correctly holds that individuals possess privileged knowledge as to what it's like (in the Nagel sense) to hold their social identities. But it is often wrongly extended, in the popular game of informational corruption called "Telephone" or "Chinese Whispers," as arguing that such individuals also possess unassailable and unchallengeable insight into the proper societal solutions to their grievances. We can imagine a patient walking into the doctor's office; the doctor cannot plausibly tell him there is no pain in his leg, if he claims there is, but the same doctor can recommend treatment, or provide evidence as to whether the pain is physical or psychosomatic.A lack of discursive rigour would not be a problem, Alastair writes, "were it not for the fact that these groups frequently expect us to fly in a society formed according to their ideas, ideas that never received any rigorous stress testing."

As for myself, it was not too long ago I graduated from a university in which a conflict between these modes is ongoing. We had a required course called

Contemporary Civilization

, founded in the wake of World War I, which focused on the last 2,000 years of philosophy, seminar-style: a little bit of introductory lecture, but most of the 2 x 2-hour sessions each week were filled by students arguing with one other. In other words, its founding ethos was of sporting and adversarial collaboration.We also had a number of breakdowns where several students simply could not handle this mode: they would begin crying, or say they couldn't deal with the [insert atmosphere adjective] in the room, and would either transfer out or speak to the professor. While they were not largely representative, they required catering to, and no one wished to upset these students. I have heard we were a fortunate class insofar as we had a small handful of students willing to engage sporting-style, or skeptical a priori of the dominant political ideology at the school. When, in one session, a socialist son of a Saudi billionaire, wearing a $10,000 watch and a camel-hair cashmere sweater, pontificated about "burning the money, reverting to a barter system, and killing the bosses," folks in class would mention that true barter systems were virtually unprecedented in post-agricultural societies, and basically unworkable at scale. In other classes, though, when arguments like these were made—which, taken literally, are logically irrational, but instead justify themselves through sentiment, a legitimation of driving emotion rather than explicit content, in the Culture B sense—other students apparently nodded sagely from the back of the room, "yes, and-ing" one another til their noses ran. Well, I wanted to lay out the styles with some neutrality, but I suppose it's clear now where my sympathies stand.

[1] It should go without saying, but to cover my bases, these modes feeling "feminized" or "masculinized" does not imply that all women, or women inherently, engage in one mode while all men inherently engage in another. Seph cites Camille Paglia as an archetypal example of a Culture A woman, and while she may fall to the extreme side of the Culture A mode, I'd argue most female intellectuals of the 20th C (at least those operated outside the sphere of feminist discourse) were strongly sporting-types: Sontag, for instance, was vociferous and unrelenting.

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ryqoshay · 3 years

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Tri-Arame: A Train’s Delay

Primary Pairing Trio: YuuAyuSetsu Words: ~1.6k Rating: G Time Frame: During their 2nd year in high school Story Arc: Stand Alone

Author’s Note: Writing the last scene made me want to give Ayu’s perspective on the early development of things among the three.

“I’m telling you, the pose will be really cute.” Yuu insisted as she and Ayumu stepped off the train. “The fans will love it, so we should definitely work it into your choreography for the next Live.”

“I’ll think about it.” Ayumu conceded.

Yuu’s obsession with school idols had led her to performing a ton of research, so there was little doubt as to the extent of her knowledge. However, Ayumu knew she had to temper the advice with the fact that Yuu called pretty much everything about her cute. Though as embarrassing as it often was, Ayumu couldn’t say she disliked it. And she was in no hurry to tell Yuu stop anytime soon. It just meant she had to gauge things carefully and occasionally seek a second opinion. A critique from someone like…

“Setsuna-chan!” Yuu called suddenly.

Yes, Setsuna was another excellent source of school idol information. And in the newly reformed club she was learning how to be more accepting of other views on the genre. Thus… Wait, she was here?

Sure enough, Ayumu looked in the direction Yuu was already running to find their fellow second year. Having just disembarked her train, she now stood facing them, her dark hair in twin braids and her glasses donned.

A flash of excitement crossed Setsuna’s face as she saw her friends before she visibly quashed it and forcibly reigned herself in. “Please, I’m Nana right now.” She said, giving a quick and nervous glance to either side, as if expecting her parents to get off the next train and catch her in a brief moment of not being the studious and somber girl they expected her to be.

Ayumu felt something wrench at her heart. She didn’t like seeing her friend having to repress her passions, especially since it was Setsuna who had ignited passions within herself and Yuu. She enjoyed watching Yuu be open about her obsessions with school idols, not only because she was incredibly cute when excited, but also because it helped keep her inspired to continue working on becoming more open herself. It was for these reasons that she and Yuu had invited Setsuna to the mall with them the other day, to give her a few hours to be truly open and honest with her interests.

“Ne, Nana-chan,” Yuu effortlessly switched gears “wanna walk to school with us?”

“I’d like that.” Nana replied. “Good morning, Ayumu-san.” She greeted the redhead with a polite bow.

“Good morning, Nana-san.”

Though genuine, the smile Nana offered was far more reserved than those she typically displayed as Setsuna.

“You know,” Yuu continued “Ayumu and I have taken this same train every day since we started high school and we’ve never crossed paths with you. Did you take a different one today or something?”

“No, that was my normal train.” Nana shook her head. “They just had a delay at the station before me.” To prove the point, she held up the delay certificate. “Though I suppose if you two usually arrive at this time and do not suffer punctuality issues at school, I don’t really need this.” She slipped it back in her bag anyway instead of discarding it in a nearby recycling bin.

“So I guess today was just an accident.” Yuu surmised.

“It would seem so.”

Yuu shrugged. “But at happy accident at least, ‘cause we get to walk together now.”

Another reserved smile.

“Anyway, I was just telling Ayumu that she should consider using this pose at the end of her new song at the next Live.” Yuu paused to demonstrate.

Nana stopped as well to examine Yuu thoughtfully. “Ayumu-san.” She said suddenly.

“Eh?” Ayumu wasn’t expecting to be addressed.

“Would you mind taking this position? I believe I might better judge it by observing the correct subject.”

“S-sure…” Ayumu battled the rising sense of unease at the concept of making idol poses in the middle of the walkway while dressed in her school uniform, as opposed to on stage in an idol outfit.

“Hrm… Perhaps if you moved your forearm up a bit more…” Nana reached out to make the adjustment. “And your other arm like this… Turn your wrist… Maybe shift your hips… And your torso…”

Ayumu almost bit her tongue as Nana’s hands slid up her waist to the sides of her ribcage before gently guiding her to the new position.

“How about this, Yuu-san?” Nana took a step back to admire her handiwork.

“That’s amazing, Nana-chan!” Yuu marveled. “Ayumu’s pose is even cuter like that!”

Cuter? Ayumu tried, likely unsuccessfully, to swallow down a blush.

“Indeed.” Nana agreed. “Although, I cannot take all the credit. The pose is only accentuating the existing high level of cuteness.”

Oh no… It was one thing when Yuu constantly called her cute, but now Setsu… Nana was joining in as well? Ayumu felt the heat overflowing from her face, up to her ears and down her neck. Geez… if she was going to survive as an idol, she would have to get better at handling these kinds of things.

“And Yuu-san set up the base work well.” Nana continued. “It is obvious you know much about your subject.”

“Subject? Ayumu? Of course I know her and her cuteness well.” Yuu puffed out her chest as though she believed the accomplishment was worthy of great pride. “But Nana-chan, you really know your stuff when it comes to idols. I may know Ayumu's cuteness, but you were able to help me truly refine the pose to ensure it shined at its brightest. And I'm still trying to learn the other girls in the club. I may have to have you teach me your ways so I can better observe you guys during practice and give better advice after.”

Though clearly enjoying the praise, Nana continued to keep herself reserved. Ayumu felt a bittersweet emotion start to fill her, displacing the embarrassment from earlier as the conversation shifted away from her. She wanted to see her friend like she was when the three of them went to the mall together. Back when the anime-obsessed girl was practically vibrating with excitement like a puppy, so much so that Ayumu had wanted to pat her on the head and scratch under her chin. The girl walking with her now was behaving instead like a puppy being cautious in its excitement after being scolded for doing something wrong.

Except Nana hadn’t done anything wrong, at least not as far as Ayumu could tell. She was merely guilty of having hobbies unapproved by her parents. It was for this reason that Ayumu and Yuu had reached a mostly unspoken agreement to provide an outlet for Nana to be Setsuna and freely celebrate her passions. The idol club certainly helped, but idols were by no means Setsuna’s only interests.

It wasn’t the easiest of tasks. On entering high school, Ayumu had tried to mature and move on from many things of her childhood. Yuu had an easier time picking back up former interests, but it had taken the burning passion of someone like Setsuna to remind Ayumu that it was alright to hold on to some things. In that regard, Ayumu felt somewhat indebted to Setsuna, so she was repaying it by helping her indulge in her interests.

Then there was Ayumu’s jealousy. As club activities continued, she was becoming increasingly aware of such emotions as Yuu lavished her attentions on the other idols. And when Yuu and Setsuna lost themselves in something, it was difficult for Ayumu to avoid feeling left out.

However, the rewards for the task were plentiful. When Setsuna truly let loose, her smile was nothing short of contagious. And Ayumu couldn’t help wanting to see it more.

The trio continued to talk idols and make plans for practice later that afternoon as they completed their walk toward school. Nana was adamant about helping perfect Ayumu’s performance and maximize her cuteness. Yuu suggested bringing in Kasumi, their local specialist on the topic of cuteness, to which Nana agreed. All the while, Ayumu’s thoughts continued to focus on how much Nana was holding back.

“Thank you for allowing me to accompany you this morning.” Nana bowed as the three paused in the front entryway of the school.

“It was our pleasure.” Ayumu assured her.

“Yeah, that was fun.” Yuu agreed. “Maybe your train will be delayed again tomorrow?”

There it was. That was the smile Ayumu had wanted to see. Perhaps Nana felt safer within the school walls? Or perhaps it was a result of spending time with trusted friends? Or both. Ayumu quietly hoped it was at least in part due to the latter.

“See you at practice.” Nana flashed one more smile before turning away and heading toward her homeroom.

“I sent you the link so you can view them later.” Yuu said as she and Ayumu stepped off the train. “Their choreography is amazing! I think we can learn a lot from…” Something caught her attention. “Nana-chan!” She called before taking off.

Ayumu glanced ahead along Yuu’s path. Sure enough, leaning against a nearby pillar was their fellow second year.

Nana looked up from whatever study material she was reading. “Good morning Yuu-san, Ayumu-san.” She smiled and bowed politely.

“Good morning, Nana-san” Ayumu replied as she caught up to her childhood friend.

“Don’t tell me I jinxed you with your train?” a concerned expression crossed Yuu’s face.

“Oh no,” Nana assured “my train arrived on time just fine. I just…” she glanced down and hunched her shoulders a bit “I had so much fun yesterday morning I thought perhaps we might walk together again today? If… that’s alright?” She looked back up with a hopeful expression.

Yuu laughed. “Of course, it's alright, Nana-chan!”

“Yes, it’s definitely alright.” Ayumu agreed. “Let’s walk together again.”

Even in its reserved form, Nana’s smile still managed enough of its contagious nature that Ayumu was compelled to reciprocate. And with that, a new morning tradition began.

Author's Note Continued in Followup Post

#YuuAyuSetsu #Takasaki Yuu #Yuki Setsuna #Uehara Ayumu #Tri-Arame #Love Live Nijigasaki #fanfic

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carriagelamp · 4 years

Photo

~ Queer Lit 30 Day Book Challenge ~

I decided to do this challenge I came across for June! Originally it was designed as a “day-by-day” thing, but my June was way too hectic to do a write up every single day… so I decided to make a nice compilation for the end of the month instead!

This is perhaps not the “purest” form of the challenge but I wanted it to be personal for me. Growing up when I did and where I did, I had very little exposure to queer books, especially age-appropriate queer books. That being said, there’s some books on this list that are really only “queer” by technically, or through a secondary character rather than the main character. I debated whether to include these but finally decided that, yes, I would. I owe it to myself. Even though some of these books that aren’t “as queer” as other, they were (or are) really important to me as a queer person and my journey is understanding that, so I wanted to acknowledge them!

More info about the books and the challenge under the cut!

Day One: First Queer Book You Remember Reading

Color by Taishi Zaou and Eiki Eiki

Remember how I mentioned a lack of available, age-appropriate queer books? I was one of those kids who was definitely exposed (probably too young) to queer manga/yaoi. It wasn’t necessarily what I wanted, especially as a wee ace teen, but it was the best I had at the time and it meant the world to me at the time, to see same-sex relationships even if looking back on them is very “YIKES”.

I’m sure I read others before this, but Color is one of the first that I really remember and which I a) actually owned and which b) wasn’t completely repellent in hindsight! I haven’t reread it in probably over a decade so I have no idea how it stands up, but at the time it read like a much more “realistic” account of two teenagers developing a crush and starting a relationship and as a questioning teenager it really helped me realize that this was a real, viable option.

Day Two: Queer Book That Reminds You Of Home

The Witch Boy by Molly Knox Ostertag

I hummed and hawed about this one for a long time because honestly I tend to read books that make me feel far from home. I decided to go with The Witch Boy though because it’s a story that challenges gender norms and stars a large family out in the woods, running wild and exploring magic, and honestly it gives me vibes that remind me of vacationing with my extended family. We’re also partially ginger and inclined to run wild in the woods. If we knew magic we’d have used it for sure.

This book is about 13 year old Aster, who lives in a family where the women all become witches and the men all become shifters. Aster, however, has no interest in shapeshifting and instead finds ways to study magic and learn the arts of witchcraft while constantly being pushed out by his female relatives… though everything might change when a new danger, that may or may not be connected to Aster studying magic, begins to appear.

Day Three: Queer Book That Has Been On Your TBR Too Long

Beneath The Citadel by Destiny Soria

That was an easy choice, this has been sitting on my bookshelf for months, staring at me accusingly every time I enter my room. I’m really excited to read it (Magical heist? Rebellion? With an asexual protagonist? Yes please) but for some reason I have not gotten around to it. Some day, baby, some day.

Day Four: Queer Book With A Name Or Number In The Title

George by Alex Gino

George is an absolutely charming middle grade novel about a child named George who the world perceives as male… but who knows she’s definitely a girl. The novel begins when her class decided to put on a play about the novel they had just read: Charlotte’s Web. George is desperate to play Charlotte, her favourite character, but isn’t even allowed to try out because it’s a “girl’s role”. George and her best friend struggle with how to handle this problem and manage George’s secret amid elementary school and home drama.

This book is really adorable – it was a nice, easy, cozy read for an adult, and would also make a great read aloud to elementary-age children if you want to introduce them to transgender characters.

Day Five: Queer Book Where The Protag Has A Fun Job

The Magic Misfits by Neil Patrick Harris

Not actually a queer protagnoist, but a queer side character who plays a major role in the series. Mister Vernon, one of Leila’s fathers, has arguable the coolest job: he’s a retired stage magician turn magic shop owner, which is complete with large rabbit, hidden room, and tons of fascinating gadgets to help a young practical magician learn their trade. He is hands down one of the neatest character in the series and is a major catalyst throughout the series.

The first book follows Carter, a runaway orphan who practices street magic to get by, as he runs away from his horrible uncle and winds up meeting a gang of magic-loving friends in a small town. Hiding from his uncle is only the beginning though, and the mysteries surrounding the town and Mister Vernon become thicker and thicker as the series goes on.

Day Six: Favourite Queer Graphic Novel

Check, Please! by Ngozi Ukazu

There’s lots of fantastic queer graphic novels out there, but I have to name Check, Please! as my favourite (and not just because I’m Canadian and am legally obligated to at least show interest in a hockey story). Check, Please! is the friggin cutest story about Eric “Bitty” Bittle, former figure skater and avid baker, who joins the Samwell University hockey team. The story is told in the form of Bitty’s vlog as he recounts the bizarre quirks of the Samwell hockey team, his struggle to overcome his fear of checking, and his growing crush on the team captain, Jack. Seriously guys, this is cavity-inducing sweetness and you can read it all online for free, here on tumblr @omgcheckplease or at its own website, checkpleasecomic.

Day Seven: Queer Book You Often Reread

Boy Meets Boy by David Levithan

Another book I haven’t reread in years, but this was the first queer novel I ever read (and owned!) so I read it obsessively, first the copy from the high school library and then my own copy (which is, let us say, well-thumbed by this point). It was pure fluff, in an aggressively diverse, relentlessly accepting, rainbow-coloured high school and it was exactly what I wanted in high school, and it still makes me happy whenever I remember it. It’s a straight-up high school romance, pretty traditional to the genre, but it has the most delightful supporting cast you could ever ask for. Maybe I should reread it again this summer…

Day Eight: Queer Book With A Happy Ending

Of Fire and Stars by Audrey Coulthurst

This was a bit more of a “yeah it was fine” book for me, but honestly… queer people deserve some average, run-of-the-mill YA fantasies. As far as my normal reading preferences go, run-of-the-mill YA fantasies are my bread and butter. And this one has a cute sapphic romance to go with it. It’s about Denna, a princess with a dangerous secret: she has a magical Affinity for fire, despite being betrothed to the prince of a kingdom that aggressively prosecutes and fears magic-users. So now Denna is in a strange land, trying to hide her increasingly volatile magic, solve an assassination that rocked the kingdom, and deal with the growing connection between her and the prince’s wild sister, Mare. It has court intrigue, a murder mystery, horses, and lots of confused sapphic pining so it’s totally worth picking up if you want a light summer fantasy adventure.

Day Nine: Queer Book With (Over) 100 Pages

River of Teeth by Sarah Gailey

I decided to try to get as close to 100 pages as possible! River of Teeth is a 114-page novella that I haven’t quite finished (work and covid stress happened) but which I am fucking losing my mind for. I can’t recommend it enough. It’s peak alternative history, about queer hippopotamus-riding cowboys in Louisiana during the early 20th (late 19th?) century. Like… I don’t know how to emphasize how unbelievably cool this book is. Genderqueer demolition expert with a giant crush and a penance for making things blow up and attempting to poison guests when they’re bored?? Check. Gay gunslinging hippo-riding cowboy with an angsty backstory (and also a giant crush)? Check. Sexy, fat, badass lady con artist with an albino hippo that she spoils? Check. Like damn guys. I’m not done the book and I’ve already bought the sequel because I know the second I pick it back up I’m not gonna stop until I’ve ploughed through it all. This book is the epitome of “refuge in audacity” and “rule of cool”. Is it over the fucking top? Absolutely but that’s the point.

Day Ten: Favourite Queer Genre Novel

The Red Scrolls of Magic by Cassandra Clare

I’ll be honest, I’m a little shaky on what counts as a genre novel (isn’t… everything… a genre??) so I decided to interpret it as “slightly trashy YA supernatural fantasy” because that sure is a hella specific genre I’m weak for.

I really thought I was done with the Shadowhunter novels, I thought they were a goofy series I left behind in teenagerhood that I could look back on with amused indulgence. And then I found out that there was a novel specifically about Alec and Magnus and! Oh no! Ding dong I was wrong. I fell back in hard because listen… I love them. They were one of the first canonical same-sex relationships I ever read about in an actual novel, they meant a lot to me then and still mean a lot to me now. I have nothing to say to defend myself here except that this book wrecked me and I can’t wait for the sequel.

Day Eleven: Queer Book You Love In A Genre You Don’t Read

Laura Dean Keeps Breaking Up With Me by Mariko Tamaki and Rosemary Valero-O’Connel

I am very rarely a slice-of-life / romance genre sort of person. I like my stories cut with a heavy dose of fantasy, scifi, action-adventure… something. So a graphic novel that’s not only a romance, but one about an unhealthy relationship and infidelity is like… super outside my usual range of reading material. But it was very much worth the read! The art was stunning, and the complicated emotions it tapped into really touched me. I’m very happy to have read it, and was so damn satisfied by the end.

Day Twelve: Queer Book With A Strong Sense Of Place

Belle Révolte by Linsey Miller

Linsey Miller is one author I very actively follow, I love her works and they always have very distinct, complicated worlds with unique societies and magic systems. Belle Révolte was her latest book and followed a prince-and-the-pauper type of story, in which wealthy Emilie des Marais is determined to learn noonday (magical) arts in order to become a physician, someone who can actually work to make her home a better place… but this is not something a proper lady would ever be allowed to do. So she flees her finishing school and meets poor, but magically gifted, Annette Boucher and offers her the chance to switch places. Annette goes back to school as “Emilie” and gets to hone her skills at the midnight arts while Emilie will use her name to sneak into medical school and fight her way up the ranks to physician. This is a challenging enough task, with rebellion roiling just beneath the surface and the country about to slip into a arrogant war that threatens the lives of hundreds…

Day Thirteen: Queer Book That Really Made You Think

Our Dreams At Dusk by Yuhki Kamatani

This is a four book manga series that is completely breath-taking. It’s touched by magical-realism and completely drowned in visually stunning metaphors and symbolism. Seriously, I’ve reread these books multiples times trying to digest how the wide variety of symbols overlap and contradict and compliment and challenge each other. I still haven’t really gotten a solid handle on it, it’s very fluid, so yeah… definitely makes me think.

The story starts with Tasuku Kaname who believes he may have just been outed as gay by a high school friend, and feels like he’s watching his entire world crumble around him. He is seriously considering taking his own life, when he runs into the mysterious woman “Someone-san” and winds up leading him to a drop-in center that’s run by a local non-profit, and is also a hub for a number of queer people in the community. The books follow Tasuku as he grows, learns, makes mistakes, and confronts his feelings, along with a number of other members at the drop-in center. It is completely beautiful, optimistic, but also quite stark and harsh at its look at homophobia and transphobia in modern Japanese society and how it can effect people in different ways. I just bought book four and can’t wait to read it and see how everything ends.

Day Fourteen: Queer Book That Made You Cry

The Marrow Thieves by Cherie Dimaline

Holy shit guys. Listen. Listen. If you don’t read any other book on this list, please consider reading The Marrow Thieves. It is hands down the best book I’ve read so far this year. Another book that doesn’t have a queer character as the protag, but as one of the main supporting characters and listen, his story fucking destroyed me as a person. That romance just… aaaaaaah. AAAAAAAAH.

Anyway. The Marrow Thieves is a Canadian dystopian novel. It takes place in a post-climate change world in which society has been ravaged – partially due to the wildly different and extreme weather patterns, but also through a strange disease that has spread through the population that has left people completely incapable of dreaming. Now unable to rest, process their lives, and dream of a future, people are being driven insane and only one group appears to be immune: North America’s First Nations people appear to be unaffected. And so they begin to be harvested, rounded up and collected in “school” in order for people to suck the marrow out of them to give to white people afflicted by this disease. The Marrow Thieves follows a First Nations boy named Frenchie as he flees the recruiters and tries his best to survive in this post-apocalyptic like wilderness, banding together with other First Nations people who are heading north, where they hope to find communities of their own people with whom they can shelter and start to rebuild their lives.

It’s a YA level novel, not very long, and such an insanely good read. I cannot emphasize enough PLEASE GO READ THIS BOOK.

Day Fifteen: Queer Book That Made You LOL

Mostly Void, Partially Stars by Joseph Fink and Jeffrey Cranor

Welcome to Nightvale always makes me laugh and it was a lot of fun to get to read the transcripts of the episodes. I’m a sucker for novelizations/transcripts of shows. It was a nice nostalgia trip and gave me an excuse to go back and relisten to some of my favourite episodes too! If you’ve never gotten into Nightvale… hey, it’s a classic! Podcast is fucking stunning if you’re into podcasts, and if you’re not but would enjoy a weird, queer, eldritch horror comedy then try the book! It’s the first “season” compiled in text form, exactly how it’s heard in the show.

Day Sixteen: Queer Book That Is Really Personal To You

Jughead volume 1 by Chip Zdarsky et al

Including this one because gee golly it sure did make me want to fight a lot of people for quite a while. It was one of the first stories I ever found/read that had an explicitly asexual main character… (and a character I already really loved! Which I now got to feel an even stronger connection to! It was so fun and validating!) so it was super awesome how like half of tumblr decided for a year there that this was apparently a cardinal sin. Imagine… one single version of old, long standing comic series deciding to retcon a character to represent a heavily under-represented community… imagine being so fucking angry about that that you decide to start a hate campaign on the internet. So much fun to live through that as an ace person. Anyway, these comics were nothing amazing but I sure do love them aggressively out of pure spite, even now that the aphobia on tumblr has died back down I will hold this to my chest and adore it.

Day Seventeen: Favourite Queer Book Sequel or Spin Off

The Lady’s Guide to Petticoats and Piracy by Mackenzi Lee

Honestly do I even need to say anything here? Is there any queer person who hasn’t read Mackenzi Lee’s The Gentleman’s Guide to Vice and Virtue series? If you are someone who hasn’t read it yet… go do that?? Absolutely stunning, one of my all-time favourite book series. It’s the perfect combination of hilarious and goofy, intense action, heartfelt character development, and a dash of “wait was that supernatural or??” This sequel was fantastic, this time focusing on Felicity, Monty’s sister, and her quest to become a physician despite being a woman in the 18th century. Awesome look at femininity, feminism, asexuality, and race. (Also… OT3? OT3.)

Day Eighteen: Favourite Queer Book By A Favourite Author

Monstrous Regiment by Terry Pratchett

One of those “ehh is this technically queer? Not really but close enough, it is in my heart” books. It was one of the books I read as a teenager when I was still beginning to seek out and try to explore queer lit in so much as I could.

Terry Pratchett is, hands down, my favourite author, and though he doesn’t tend to write explicitly queer literature, his exploration of gender through allegory is top fucking tier. Everything to do with the dwarves in his series is fascinating, and a really great challenge/critique/exploration of gender, and this is the book that takes it to the next level (and brings in at least implicitly queer characters). It’s about Polly Perks, who lives in a small, war torn nation, choosing to join the army in order to find out what happened to her brother. However, as tradition dictates, she can’t join as a girl… so she disguises herself as Ozzer, a young man. There’s a lot of twists and turns, and as always Pratchett delivers fantastic humour and just absolutely delicious satire.

Day Nineteen: Queer Book That Changed Your Life

And Tango Makes Three by Justin Richardson

This was the book that made me realize that I, as a queer teacher, could have queer kid lit in my future classroom. Maybe a comparatively small revelation, but a really important one to me. It made me realize that this didn’t need to be something I kept a secret in my professional life and which could really positively influence children, especially queer children. It was the first queer children’s book I ever bought.

Day Twenty: Favourite Queer Book Series

Candy Color Paradox by Isaku Natsume

Alright… I’ll admit it, this isn’t actually my favourite series, but I’ve used my favourites in other spots. And this is a good one! Definitely more of an actual “yaoi” than the other manga I’ve included (here there be sex) but it has a very different vibe that what I’m used to from that type of manga. The main pair are actually both capable, mature adults, with careers they actively care about, and who get together in the first volume!

The rest of the series is less about them angst-ily toeing around their relationship, and much more about them learning to grow as a couple and balance their work and relationship and society. It’s funny and sweet, and I really enjoy these two losers. It’s a very low-stakes enemy-to-friends-to-lovers story, in which Onoe (a reporter) and Kaburagi (a photographer) are paired up on a news story they’re supposed to dig into together. What starts as a bickering rivalry gradually becomes respect, friendship, and love~ Onoe is a gremlin of a protag, so he’s a treat to follow.

Day Twenty-One: Queer Book That You Recommend A Lot

Mask of Shadows by Linsey Miller

To repeat myself: Linsey Miller is awesome! This is my favourite book of hers, the first of a duology. It’s kind of like an intense, edgy Tamora Pierce novel with murder. In this world, the Queen has a team of assassins known as the Left Hand. They’re an elite group that keeps the Queen safe and does the dirty work that needs to be done to protect the kingdom and keep the encroaching nations at bay. When the assassin Opal is killed, a contest is announced to find the new Opal. People from all over come to complete for the honour of being one of the Queen’s royal assassins, including gender-fluid thief Sallot Leon. Sal has some deep motivations to become Opal that go beyond a loyalty to their kingdom, but they’re going to have to survive their competitors if they even wants a chance at it… (Sal generally goes by either she or he in the books, but I’m using they in this instance since it’s in a more general sense.)

Day Twenty-Two: Queer Book That Made You Take Action

The Deep by Rivers Solomon

Uhh, I don’t really have any books that made me take action per se, but this one sure gave me a lot to think about. It’s about deep sea mermaids who originated from the pregnant slave women tossed into the ocean to drown during passage to North America. From those dying women, this race was born and were taken in by whales, raised and protected until they could descend into the deep ocean waters, to form their own safe society. Their collective past is so painful though that as a species they’ve developed a very short term memory. But a people can’t live without any ties to their roots and so one of them, the Historian, holds all the memories for their entire species and shares it with everyone once a year so that the community can be connected to their ancestors before once again returning the memories to the Historian for safe keeping. Yetu, the current Historian, is so overwhelmed by these memories, that she can no longer take it – she flees her people, her responsibilities, and her pain and escapes to the surface instead...

Day Twenty-Three: Queer Book By An Author Who I Killed Is Dead

Cybersix by Carlos Trillo

I cannot emphasize enough, this is not actually a queer comic, it is in fact a very homophobic, transphobic and sexist comic written by a horrible person.

That being said, he’s dead and I own it now the TV series was essentially about a genderqueer superhero and a very confused bi biology professor who has a crush on both personas. I had a passionate crush on both personas as a child, and I will cherrypick this comic until I die in order to enjoy the only kickass genderqueer/genderfluid noir antihero I’ve come across. I am valid and I am not open to debate or discussion. Do not read this comic it’s horrible (but consider watching the show).

Day Twenty-Four: Queer Book You Wish You’d Read When Younger

The Prince and the Dressmaker by Jen Wang

This is such an incredibly soft story with the nicest art. There’s so much understanding and compassion in it and its exploration of gender and self-confidence and being true to yourself would have been very reassuring to me as a child, especially by late elementary/middle school.

Day Twenty-Five: Queer Book In A Historical Setting

The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller

A retelling of Achilles’ and Patroclus’ relationship from childhood to the Trojan war. So yeah, you can imagine that this was also a candidate for Day 14 :’) I haven’t read this one in years but god it was lovely and emotionally destroyed me as a person.

Day Twenty-Six: Queer Superhero Book or Comic

Overwatch: Reflections by Michael Chu and Miki Montillo

I don’t really read superhero stories very often (the comics have always driven me a little bonkers, trying to find a way to enter the totally unapproachable Marvel/DC canons, and the MCU burnt me out years ago for every other sort of superhero story) so this is the closest I can get. Tracer’s a superhero yeah? Anyway, I, like every other queer person in the Overwatch fandom, lost my fucking mind when this dropped for Christmas a few years back and officially declared Lena Oxton not only the face of the entire franchise but also a lesbian. It’s an adorable little comic and Tracer’s girlfriend is a sweetheart.

Day Twenty-Seven: Favourite Queer Children’s Picture Book

Prince & Knight by Daniel Haack

There’s a number of sweet queer children’s books that are popping up these days, but this is my favourite just because it’s less about “explaining the gays to children” (though those books also have their place) and more of a cute little fantasy adventure in which the actual protagonist is gay. It’s about a prince who sets out to find himself a bride who can help rule by his side, but it quickly becomes clear that he isn’t interested in any of the girls. Instead, when a fire breathing dragon threatens his kingdom, he meets a brave knight who fights along side him. It’s very supportive and the art is lovely.

Day Twenty-Eight: Queer Book That Made You Feel Uncomfortable

Let’s Talk About Love by Claire Kann

This is a book with an asexual protagonist that I was originally really excited for. I know there are a lot of people out there who really enjoy this book and connected with it, but it didn’t do it for me. Maybe because my expectations were too high, but the protagonist’s experience with asexuality was vastly different than my own and the narrative voice ended up rubbing me wrong (and let’s be honest, slice-of-life romance is NOT my usual genre at all). So it’s not ��made me uncomfortable because it’s Bad And Wrong” more just… totally vibed wrong with me. Maybe the perfect book for other people but definitely not for me, I had to return this one unfinished because it’s portrayal of asexuality just made me so deeply uncomfortable.

Day Twenty-Nine: Queer Book That Made You Want To Fall In Love

The Gentleman’s Guide To Vice And Virtue by Mackenzi Lee

This book had to make it on here somewhere, and honestly it could have gone in a lot of different spots, but I chose to put it here because the relationship between Monty and Percy is so incredibly sweet and authentic it really does make you want something like that. TGGTVAV (for anyone who has somehow not heard of it) takes place in the 18th century, and is about Monty, his best friend (and crush) Percy, and his sister Felicity going on a final “hurrah” tour of Europe before Monty's father finally tries to pin him down in England and force every part of Monty that’s deemed “unacceptable” out of him. So Monty intends to live this summer up… until everything goes off the rail and the three of them are suddenly fleeing across the continent with assassins at their heels and a strange, stolen artifact in their possession.

Monty has a lot of growing to do in this novel, and that’s one of my favourite things about it. For his and Percy’s relationship to ever have a chance, Monty needs to learn and change and actually communicate with other people, and it makes the relationship feel strong. Not a fluffy, surface level romance that often happens in YA but something built from the ground up by two friends who really want to make it work. Ahh, it’s lovely. One of my favourite novels.

Day Thirty: Queer Book With Your Favourite Ending

My Brother’s Husband by Gengoroh Tagame

A two-book manga series that was completely stunning. It deals with queer relationships and homophobia in a very stark, real-world manner that you don’t often get in manga, while still being incredibly loving and sympathetic. The book is about Yaichi, a single father whose estranged brother (Ryoji) recently died. One day, a Canadian named Mike arrives, introducing himself as Ryoji’s widower. Mike had come hoping to visit his late husband’s homeland to try to get some closure, and Yaichi ends up inviting Mike to stay. The whole story looks Japan’s societal biases, through Mike’s experiences, Yaichi’s thoughts, feelings and prejudices, and those of his daughter who adores Mike.

Seriously, this is one of the kindest, most earnest looks I’ve ever seen to internal prejudices that critiques them without demonizing the person who feels them. Instead it lovingly embraces grief, growth, and love. This series made me cry multiple times, was good enough that even my straight brother practically ordered me to go out and buy the second book when he finished the first, and the ending was just *chef’s kiss*

Honourable Mentions

A few books I really wanted to fit on my list somehow but couldn’t quite manage it, so here: All Out an anthology of historical fiction short stories about queer teens. The Tea Dragon Society series and Princess Princess Ever After, graphic novels by the amazingly talented Katie O’Neill. Heartstopper a webcomic turn graphic novel by Alice Oseman about a pair of rugby players. The Different Dragon a cute picture book in which the boy has two moms and which is about accepting different ways of being. And Lady Knight a part of Tamora Pierce’s Protector of the Small series because because Kel is word-of-god aro(and/or ace) and I’ve adored that series and Kel since I was about thirteen so by god I’ll take it.

Now for those that wanted to do their own challenge, I found it on @gailcarriger’s blog.

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legobiwan · 4 years

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I was going through your musician tags the other day and wondered which instruments you think The Lineage would possibly play? Let's make that the extended lineage, from Yoda to Ahsoka, including Rael.

Ohhhhh hahahahah first of all, I am so sorry anyone has to deal with my #musicianbullshit although the first thing about being a musician is bullshit, obviously. :D

I had a post a while back concerning my opinions on what instrument Dooku played, but I can’t seem to find it. Damn it, Tumblr!

Anyway, I’m going to assume non-gffa, real-life instruments because there are a lot of instruments in Wookieepedia and without knowing them, their mechanisms, their history, etc. intimately, I can’t make a sound value judgment (ha! that was a pun) as to how they would or would not fit with our favorite lineage.

Yoda: So the first thing we need to take into account with Yoda is his physical stature. He is not a large being, so he’s probably not going to play cello or any other instrument that requires wide breadth of motion. We need a small instrument, handheld and I think the perfect match for Yoda would be the mbira (sometimes referred to as a kalimba or a thumb-piano):

Hand-held, its range is limited, between an octave (8) and 23 tones. But within these limitations, the mbira can be re-tuned to different sonorities, or modes depending on the type affect one wants with the instrument and if one deals in microtones (not half and whole steps, which are the foundation for the Western classical canon but by no means the only tuning system out there), then the permutations get pretty exciting. In addition, using two hands, there are nearly limitless variations for polyrhythm, for instance, playing a duple with the left hand and triplet in the right. (A simple example.) And I think this fits Yoda perfectly because the instrument itself is so self-contained and yet has so many possibilities that belie its appearance, much like Yoda himself, and I think he would enjoy the challenge of creating new music within the physical limitations of the instrument.

Dooku: So I have no idea where that post went with my original Dooku idea, but what do we know about Dooku? A proud man with a strong connection to his Serennian ancestry and someone who is deeply interested in history. He’s a student of Yoda, so his instrument needs to connect in some way to him, but be distinct, aesthetic, and as non-tangible as possible. So in my mind, Dooku would play the hammered dulcimer.

The hammered dulcimer requires a deft hand, accuracy, and an awareness of the heft and location of each strike of the string. In this way, it resembles the finesse of the Makashi form, and I can’t imagine Dooku playing a “messy” instrument that would require him to use his fingers, hands, or even mouth (Force forbid). In this way, he can create, but keep a distance. In addition, the instruments themselves can be works of art, as shown above, which is in keeping with Dooku’s aristocratic bent and his appreciation for high aesthetics. The instrument itself is interesting, in that it is versatile, like Yoda’s mbira, in terms of the tuning and potential for polyrhythm, but with more strings come more possibilities, overwhelming possibilities, at times, and a traditionally Western-tuned dulcimer never quite encompasses the entire chromatic scale (the 12 notes spanning an octave), which somehow seems to fit Dooku. In addition, it’s an instrument with strong ties to folk traditions in Europe and Asia, but also has quite the reputation in Appalachia. This kind of fits with Serenno’s status in the GFFA, an Outer Rim world with strong traditions. The sound is quite haunting, quite beautiful, and I can imagine Dooku by himself in his large office, moon shining through tall transparisteel windows, playing an ancient Serennian folk tune.

Rael: Ohhh, Rael. Down home country-boy from Ringo-Vinda. I may be playing into some stereotypes here, but I really think Rael is suited towards the banjo.

Of course, many of us associate the banjo with the country, with folk music, which seems in keeping with Rael’s background on Ringo-Vinda and his whole “cowboy Jedi” aesthetic. What I also like about Rael and the banjo is that it is portable, it sticks in the string family in keeping with Dooku, and it is a much more complicated instrument than it is sometimes given credit for. The banjo can be an incredibly virtuosic instrument in the right hands, and I would have no doubt that an older Rael wouldn’t mind showing off to a few people in in the local cantina, all while keeping up his “image” as the displaced, country boy Jedi.

Qui-gon: Qui-gon, on the other hand, doesn’t care about showing off. Because he is the second student of Dooku and had close contact with Rael, I can see him sticking in the string family, but with an instrument both more challenging and more esoteric. I feel like the Erhu would be a good fit for Qui-gon.

Like Rael, Qui-gon would want to play something more visceral, more involved. The erhu is vaguely reminiscent of a violin or cello except that it has only two strings and a more mellow, almost human-voice than most western string instruments. Capable of great slides a wide range of emotions, the erhu easily flits from somber to gay, an all-encompassing disposition which fits well with Qui-gon’s preoccupation with the Unifying Force and all that lies within.

Obi-wan: Unlike Qui-gon, Obi-wan has no desire to play a stringed instrument, likely because he once saw his Master with his erhu and decidedly immediately he needed to pick something else. In fact, a young Obi-wan may not have played anything at all. But we know from A Certain Point of View that Obi-wan does carpentry, so he is good with his hands and, I imagine, quite exacting in what he makes as that would seem to fit his personality. And because of this, I think he’d play some sort of flute (I know, I know, but I swear this isn’t self-indulgent nonsense, hang with me here a sec), as he could fashion one for himself easily from wood, or even bamboo. And I like the idea of Obi-wan playing (and making) a shakuhachi as a) it’s very difficult to make a good one and b) the damn instrument is hard to play well.

There is a long history of breath-meditation in connection with the shakuhachi, not to mention its use by the wandering komusō (“priests of nothingness,” or “emptiness monks”) in Ashikaga Japan, which is very much in line with Obi-wan’s later exile on Tatooine. (Not to mention that some komuso were disguised former samurai and some sources said the bell of the shakuhachi was made thick and heavy enough to be used as a weapon. Again, this feels very much like Obi-wan on Tatooine and I can imagine him whittling away in the Dune Sea, creating some form of this instrument, doing breath meditation as he tries to heal, an outcast monk, now having nothing except his one duty to protect Luke.)

Anakin: Anakin, as we know, grew up a slave on Tatooine. While the cantinas boasted third-rate jizz bands (I will never be over that term), a little slave-boy is not going to have access to any kind of fancy instrument or training. But a little boy’s well-meaning mother might gift him with a small pendant, a piece of desert ceramic, perhaps, with small, weathered holes.

A small, unobtrusive ocarina, sweet little desert sounds for little fingers at the end of a long day.

Ahsoka: And then finally Ahsoka. She’s an interesting case as she would probably have inherited the wind predilection from Obi-wan and Anakin, but a subset of Togruta were accomplished artisans, so I could see Ahsoka going for an instrument a little more complicated and technical than either Obi-wan or Anakin. And, to be honest, I could see Ahsoka having a “let’s start a band” phase at some point in the Temple. So because of this, I think she would play some iteration of melodica.

Perhaps a melodica is starter instrument for the Togruta people, as it is in some countries in this galaxy. Easy to pick up, the melodica is at once strident and able to cross multiple musical boundaries, and I can very see Ahsoka accompanying some ribald vod drinking songs with the instrument, much to the delight of Rex and the others.

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