#and maybe set the occasional thing on fire

[spooky-lil-spider-enjoyer]

Don't think about Peter seeing a strange sad kid around his age at his mentor's funeral. Don't think about Peter summoning his inner spiderman even in one of the lowest points of his life and walking over to the boy. Because that's what heros do, they help people. 

Don't think about Peter trying to make idle conversation by asking how he knew Tony, expecting something similar to his situation. Well, not the secret superhero and avengers thing, but that he was one of Starks interns or assistants or something like that.

Maybe do think about Harley wiping a sniffly nose and telling the kind boy his story, the story of The Mechanic who taught him to stand up for himself, the Super Hero who saved him from the weird exploding bomb guys, and Tony. The man who had panic attacks and PTSD over New York. The man who gave a 11 year old a lesser version of a flash grenade to let him stay the night in his barn. The man who turned said barn into his personal wonderland once he left. And the man who kept in touch with him over the years through letters and phone calls and maybe an occasional facetime.

Think about Peter letting out a wet chuckle and wiping his teared up eyes at the story. “That sounds like Mr. Stark.” He would say as the boys exchanged stories of the acclaimed “Iron Man.”

Think about Stark's two smartest not-technically-technically-kids bonding over the memory's of Tony, the real Tony. The Tony who set up a STEM lab for Harley, the Tony who grounded Peter because he got a little too close to dangers edge, who saw a little too much of himself in those boys.

The Tony who helped spark both their dreams and fed the fire until he died. And even in death, he's their Hero. He always will be. Maybe do think about that. Think about the Starks, biological or not.

[i-guess-im-into-this-now]

The Apothecary Diaries

S1E19 First Watch

Here's where I watch The Apothecary Diaries for the first time and give my thoughts, analysis, predictions, and occasionally I stumble into a joke.

To start at the beginning:

Episode 1

My character/locations cheat sheet

Suiren - Jinshi's attendant

Lakan - strategist. Maomao's biological father.

Lihaku - the military officer who took Maomao out of the Rear Palace

Jinshi is thinking about the conversation he had with Maomao about meeting Lakan. He looks so concerned; he can't stop thinking about that look in her eyes. Things are in such an uncertain place between the two of them. The gulf has widened, and threatens to widen further.

Jinshi is hiding so many things from Maomao, he likely thinks he's protecting her, but what he must do to keep those secrets threatens to drive the two further apart. Sharing his secrets would also drive them apart. And the current situation is not tenable. Disaster looms for Jinshi and he knows it.

Gaoshun tries to redirect Jinshi's focus to a ceremony that he's required to perform later that afternoon. Maomao figured out Jinshi has been doing something ceremonial during her time here, a purification ceremony, I think she said.

Lihaku has learned to turn to Maomao to solve mysteries.

Lihaku: We've got a problem on our hands.

Do we? It's funny that he thinks she has any responsibility in this. I mean she will certainly step up to solve this, but she in no way is obligated to.

Something about the Maomao-Lihaku dynamic is really entertaining to me. Maybe it's because their interactions are so transactional. They are each a little disgusted by the other, even if they sort of respect one another. But they can really only connect on their desire to solve a mystery, which Lihaku presents now.

Various seemingly unrelated misfortunes have befallen the palace in the last year. Everything could have been leading up to the theft of some ceremonial items, and the only clue is the presence of a tall court lady (or man).

Maomao: When many coincidences manifest one on top of the other intent emerges in the overlap.

I happen to remember the presence of a suspicious man who was around at the death of Sir Kounen and the poisoning of the court official who oversaw the warehouses. So perhaps we will get some answers about who this man is soon.

I also can't forget that Lakan investigated the warehouse fire and found that ivory pipe that started the explosion. He also was the one who got Gaoshun to look into the poisoning case of the palace official who ate toxic seaweed. Given how astute he is, Lakan is either involved, or has this mystery figured out and is letting things play out for some motive that I can't determine. Also, it seems that Lakan would like Maomao to solve this case. But why? What does he gain from that? Having her involved puts her in danger. Is that what he wants?

Because Maomao is stepping into a real conspiracy now. It's about as dangerous position as she has ever been in this show.

Jinshi shows up. LOL. He's scary when he's jealous, and Lihaku has no trouble reading the situation, so he books it out of there. Maomao on the other hand doesn't bother to try to read into Jinshi's behavior and proceeds as normal.

And it occurs to me now that the storytellers are being a bit meta.

Maomao: When many coincidences manifest one on top of the other intent emerges in the overlap.

Because they gave us this quote from Maomao right after they just got done telling us Jinshi is about to perform a ceremony, and that someone has stolen some ceremonial items. A coincidence? Not likely. The larger conspiracy that Maomao is trying to solve right now, was all for the purpose of getting to those ceremonial items. That's a whole lot of work to do if you aren't setting up something big. Something like trying to murder a prince maybe? And I may be back on my bullshit again, but I don't think so. I don't know who or why or how, but I can feel it in my story-loving soul, someone's aiming for our beloved male lead!

Actually there are any number of people who could be after Jinshi. He's in a terribly vulnerable position. By birth he is in the line of succession to the throne, but due to some deception he was removed. Anyone who discovered his identity and wants him out of the way could be behind this. He's got all of the vulnerabilities of being a prince, but not all of the protections. Or this could have to do with his duties as the palace manager. He presides over cases and hands out judgements, perhaps someone feels he did so unjustly and wants revenge? Or it could be anything, this is a fricking palace intrigue story, after all!

Lakan is an obvious suspect, but I don't think it's him. He maneuvered Maomao to get involved in this. Why would he do that if he were behind it all? It's more likely that he wants her to unravel it. Why not just expose this conspiracy himself? Is he actually trying to help Jinshi? This is such a twisted up tale.

Jinshi: What was the nature of your rendezvous with that office?

That Jinshi sees Lihaku as a romantic rival will never not be funny to me. There is just nothing at all between the two.

Maomao offers to tell Jinshi about what she discussed with Lihaku. I'm so glad she offered! Last time she solved a mystery she didn't share it with Jinshi, and they've been in such a weird place, I really wasn't sure she would want to do this. Is she taking pity on Jinshi because he's acting jealous, or does she want his thoughts on this mystery?

Actually, I think Maomao does her best mystery solving when she works with Jinshi. He is encouraging and supportive, and she thrives with that. Perhaps, this mystery has her really stumped or worried, and so she's relieved to bring it up with Jinshi. And it feels so good to watch these two working through this together! It's like watching a simpler time from and earlier episode.

After presenting the facts to Jinshi, Maomao quiets. Jinshi thinks it's odd that she isn't eager to solve this case. I do too.

Jinshi: You're not excited by this?

Maomao lets out a frustrated sigh, like he's not picking up on something, and gives the following explanation, though it sounds like a begrudging recitation, rather than honest:

Maomao: I am but a humble servant, I fear. I exist only to do as I'm told.

Jinshi gives an almost exasperated response.

And then Jinshi seems to have an "a-ha" moment right after that, and offers her an incentive for taking the case... I'm thinking Maomao is angling to get something she wants out of this. Perhaps Maomao took Suiren's words to heart last episode.

Suiren: You may appear apathetic, but you're keen. You know where you stand, and how to play the game. Suiren: If you view everything in terms of status, then you'll miss opportunities.

It seems Maomao is eager to solve this case, but she's not going to do it for nothing this time. It's an opportunity for her to gain something she wants.

And Jinshi is almost giddy to make an offer to Maomao. He knows she's going to love what he has in mind. Maomao is comically over the top when it comes to her enthusiasm for medicinal ingredients, and she freaks Jinshi out when she climbs up on his desk and laughs maniacally in his face. Gaoshun has to pull her off. Jinshi and Maomao are so delighted with themselves and each other, it's a beautiful moment of harmony, which Gaoshun isn't sure is better than having them at odds.

Serendipity (coincidence or something more?) has landed Maomao in the records archive with exactly the person who can help her solve her mystery. Because this particular court official knows all about the Board of Rites that oversees ceremonies, he used to work on that board. Yet another one of the "coincidences" that Maomao is looking into has a connection to ceremonies. Seriously, that's a lot of foreshadowing, something bad is about to go down at this ceremony, huh?

It seems that someone went to an awful lot of trouble to take out two officials who oversee the ceremonies and stole some of the ceremonial equipment. Plus this official in the archives was demoted when he raised questions about the safety of these ceremonies. "An accident waiting to happen," is how the official described it. What a convenient way to take out an important person and make it seem like a coincidence. Maomao remembers yet another coincidence that involves the three brothers who work at the metalsmith that creates ceremonial items. This has to do with that ceremonial tool that had me worried from a couple episodes back no doubt. The one Lakan made sure to bring up to Jinshi. I don't have the details figured out, but Maomao does, and she's starting to worry now.

No, she's not worried, she's terrified. Someone has had a plan in the works for over a year, to assassinate a high ranking noble Jinshi (she, like me, already knows it's him, even if she won't admit it). And Maomao only just figured it out. She's not sure if she will be able to get there in time to stop it, but damn it she's trying! Girl is about to bust open a huge conspiracy!

Run Maomao! Run! Go save your prince!

Ah shit. Her status means she can't enter. But! Jinshi is in danger, right now! She can't back down.

Maomao: I'm just a servant with no authority to speak of. But if something happens it'll be too late for anything but regret!

Oh brave Maomao! This guard is threating her with his giant cudgel but she's not giving up. And what an image! Little Maomao on the steps standing up to the big armed guard who looms threatening above!

She accuses him of being in league with the saboteur. And that does it. He bashes her in the face! Oh shit! That guard comes down the stairs and I'm pretty sure he's trying to kill her. The other guards think so too, because someone is able to stop him. Maomao meant to provoke him, as a means of creating a commotion, but it's not enough to disrupt the ceremony. And Maomao is pretty messed up from that blow to the head.

Maomao is pushing through by sheer force of will, unconsciousness threatening to take over. She ignores the pain, and the danger, and stands back up because she needs to save someone's life.

Maomao is a goddamn hero, y'all. This persistence in the face of overwhelming odds, in pursuit of a noble purpose; it makes for great characters. And in a love story it's romantic as fuck.

But no matter what she says or does, it's not enough. She doesn't have the status to disrupt this ceremony.

But Lakan does.

Friends. I can't breath. This is peak drama.

Lakan is pretty intense for a moment with the guard, when he says:

Lakan: You have hurt her.

Maomao doesn't turn around, claims she doesn't want to see who it is. But she knows it's Lakan. And she knows his presence here is not a coincidence, as nothing in this episode has been. But there isn't time for that, she needs to move quickly. She is permitted past the guards, but how to stop the ceremony without being executed for it later?

There isn't time to think it through, she sees the disaster is moments from happening and she simply runs and tackles the officiant of the ceremony out of the way, as the giant apparatus comes crashing down.

I am so here for this moment.

Maomao realizes that she made it in time. Realizes her leg is injured. But she is addled from the blow to the head, because as soon as she sees Jinshi she asks for the ox bezoar that he offered. Girl, this guy is going to give you his whole life.

And of course it's Jinshi. It had to be! Maomao looks a wreck, with her face swollen, her nose bleeding, and her leg broken. But she's alive, and because of her brilliant mind, and bravery, so is Jinshi.

Jinshi is in shock. Trying to comprehend what the fuck just happened. Perhaps only moments from losing his shit, once he knows which direction to lose it in. He sees the state Maomao is in and he's on the verge of tears. So am I.

Maomao: I don't understand. Why is Master Jinshi here?

I'll allow her this confusion right now because she just got smashed upside the head, but later when she's recovered, she's not allowed to deny who and what Jinshi is any more. It's too fucking much at this point.

Maomao is disoriented, but she's done what she came here to do, and now she can let herself fall unconscious. After all Jinshi is here, he looks awfully sad, but he's capable and kind, he'll take care of her.

Jinshi is so distraught to have her fall unconscious in his arms. He does call her "Maomao," this time, as he begs her to stay with him. That lost little "please" at the end is going to stick with me for a long while.

Every person in this room, is useless in a crisis. There are at least a dozen people standing around doing nothing.

Jinshi leaves with Maomao in his arms. He doesn't acknowledge anyone, including Lakan, who looks rather shocked. Shocked because Maomao got hurt, when he didn't intend it, or shocked because Jinshi responded differently than Lakan expected? Or did he think she died? In any case, one of Lakan's well planned strategies didn't work out how he intended. I don't know if Jinshi is even able to spare a thought as to why Lakan might be here, or what his role in this whole event might have been. To me it seems, Lakan knew what was going on, but that he wasn't behind it. Perhaps his interest in bothering Jinshi was to try to help him? I don't know. I'm sure we will find out more about Lakan's role soon enough.

There are a lot of people that saw Maomao force her way into the building and save Jinshi's life. And a lot of those same people saw Jinshi walk out with her in his arms. And everyone of them showed Jinshi deference as he left. Too bad that Maomao missed it. Will it matter that people saw this, does it mean anything in this setting?

Is there symbolism happening right now? Probably! I also wish I knew what the lyrics to this song were.

Maomao is bleeding and broken, unconscious, but without her actions, it would be Jinshi who is hurt, or more probably dead. A trail of Maomao's blood trails behind as Jinshi leaves with her in his arms.

Jinshi has to be thinking about how Maomao ended up being there just in time to save him. If it truly were just an accident, then there would have been no way for her to know about it, which means the crashing apparatus was planned. That someone tried to kill him. Jinshi has to know that there are people who would like him dead, perhaps people have even tried to come at him before. And for much of this show we have seen Jinshi try to keep Maomao away from the more dangerous parts of his life. Today, what he feared has happened. Maomao was injured, because she got tangled up in the danger that is Jinshi's life. But if she hadn't he would have died.

So what will Jinshi do? Will he push Maomao away to keep her safe, so she doesn't get hurt again like she did today? Or will he let her in now? Tell her his secrets and keep her close? How can he best protect Maomao, by pushing her away or pulling her close?

And what will Maomao do when she wakes? She can't deny who Jinshi is any longer.

Also, will whomever is behind this be discovered? Will they try again?

To start at the beginning: Episode 1

Next episode: Episode 20

[thejadecount]

You know what? I’m honestly surprised there isn’t (as far as I’m aware of) a ROTTMNT 2012 crossover that takes place immediately after the Rise Boys just after defeating the Shredder and losing their Karai and through some accident one way or another they end up in the 2012 TMNT universe

But here’s the kicker: instead of usually running into the 2012 TMNT or their Kraang they run into Karai and her foot soldiers (somewhere after she takes lead of the foot clan) and being the morally-grey and fresh-out-of-losing-their-Karai trauma turtles they are they immediately attach onto her like children lost in a store

Look where I’m getting at is I just want morally-grey rise turtles hanging out with 2012 Karai and just having some not-so-innocent fun, you know? Like I feel like the fandom should make more Rise Turtles and 2012 Karai content, it would be great

[postmortemnivis]

no grave can hold my body down, i'll crawl home to her.

simon really meant it, every bit of it, he’d come back to you somehow. he would find his way back to you. wether it was walking through the front door quietly not to wake you up in the middle of the night or cold in a coffin. he’d rather have you hold his dead body than not to have you touch his skin ever again.

that’s what simon was thinking about as his ear ringed so loud he couldn’t focus on his surroundings. he looked up at the sky, so blue it almost didn’t feel right. why so blue when so much blood was being shed?

he occasionally would feel the ground he was laying on tremble, maybe a hand grenade, maybe a body falling next to his. the smell of gunpowder filled his covered nostrils and he could feel his lungs collapsing on themselves from the thickness of the air he was breathing. his eyes weren’t doing good either, filled with dust and sand from the dry earth.

it took him a few more seconds to focus his eyes on something, something that possibly wasn’t moving, his head spinning each time he tried to sit up. something was weighting on his legs, holding him down. he struggled to raise his torso and groaned at the sight of a large body blocking him. he let himself fall back down.

he was ready to go, a sharp pain to his side telling him he wouldn’t last long alone. he’d been through worse, way worse, the scar provided by the meat hook was proof of that, but something was telling him this was as bad. he was ready to go.

the only thing he could think about in his last moments was you. he thought he could see glimpses of you, maybe your hair in the corner of his eyes or he’d hear your laugh as another fire shooting started. his eyes searched for you frantically. he wanted to tell you to leave immediately, scream it at the top of his lungs, but his voice was caught in his throat and you weren’t really there. his mind just playing cruel tricks on him.

your name was repeated like a mantra in his head, repeating it so many times it almost lost a meaning. almost. a prayer, a chant. he sure needed to pray, for you.

he had been shelving the thought that tormented him for months. he wanted to go and confess his sins, he almost felt the need, his palms itching with haste anytime he thought about it. years had passed since the last time he had set foot in a church, so many that he had almost forgotten the reason for the visit. the ghosts of the past never abandon you, especially if they are people you love, especially if they are family, the innocent. its always the innocent who pay the highest price.

‘i wonder what she’s doing now, who’s gonna knock on her door and tell her im gone.’ he thought. ‘hopefully price. he’s the one with tact and the most considerate. he’ll help her when i’m gone, keep an eye on her.’

the sweet smell of your hair replaced for a moment the one of blood and gunpowder, your laughter still echoing in his ears. he pictured your sweet face and big innocent eyes looking up at him.

“promise me something?”

“mhm?” he hummed, surprised you were still up. his hand hadn’t stopped caressing your hair since you laid down on his chest, your hand resting on his collarbone as your ear listened to his calm heartbeat. “yeah, anything.”

“promise me you’ll always come back.” you whispered in the dark room. “promise me, simon.”

he nodded, taken aback by your request. you weren’t the fondest of his job, he knew it, he hated to concern you like he did.

“yes.”

“promise.” you urged. “please.”

he bent his head down and kissed the top of yours, his arm sliding down your back and drawing you closer by your waist. “i will, love. i’ll always come back to you.”

you sighed, the knot of thoughts in your worried head began to untie. “mh.”

“better now?” he softly asked. his voice was hoarse from his constant shouting orders at the obstreperous recruits. you gave a short nod. “i mean it.”

he groaned as he managed to get the body off of himself, struggling to get on his knees.

fucks sake, he couldn’t let you live with him gone like this. it was selfish of him to leave you in such an abrupt way, really. he tried to push away the image of you opening the door to find price with a carton box filled with simons stuff from the barracks with the balaclava and skull mask on top and your knees hitting the floor before he could even say anything.

his legs didn’t feel like they could hold his weight up, he immediately fell to his knees as he heard another rapid fire too near him for his liking. his gun was long gone, he had to manage to survive alone, again.

“crawlin’ it is.” he breathed as he started to drag his tired body with the strength of his arms alone. you had always praised his strength: he could lift you with one arm alone, you loved to be held and hold on to his arm anywhere and at anytime. that was the main reason he always pushed for more while training, and the motivation your sweet compliments always gave him now were gonna save his life. he made a mental note to kiss and hold you a little longer and tighter if he ever made it home alive.

he could see the building his team was supposed to meet up in case things got bad. it looked so far away that it was alarmingly close. maybe it was just his messed up vision, a mirage, but he could swear he saw you from a window looking at him, urgently motioning him to come.

he brought the thick balaclava above his nose so he could breathe better and as enemy gunfire continued to flow, he kept his head low as he moved dead bodies from his way.

he could hear your voice calling for him and he wanted to call you for you back, but the noises of the battlefield were hurrying him to get to the safe zone first.

he stumbled by the door as he brought himself up, one hand stabilizing him as he held on to the doorframe as the other went to press on his wound.

“lt!” johnnys voice called before he rushed to help him. “ye cheeky bastard, i told them not to leave yet, to wait for ye.”

“gaz saw you get shot.” price swung simon’s arm over his shoulder in order to help him to the nearest table, where he laid down.

“he saw that right.” simon bit the inside of his cheek as price inspected his wound, pressing on it. “is he a‘ight?”

“he’s fine, hit his head but had his helmet on, he’s getting checked out by the medics.” price informed him as simon winced at the sharp pain. “there’s at least two bullets in here, didn’t pass through, stuck.”

“just take ‘em the fuck out.” simon groaned. “how’s it lookin’?”

“you’ll live.” price patted his shoulder in comfort before he went to call a medic.

“we really thought we’d lost ye there, lt.” johnny’s face was glowing with sweat and blood, the black war paint smudged messily all around his face and his mohawk dusted.

“helicopter’s leaving in thirty, boys!” price’s baritone voice called from the other room.

simon scoffed, sighing and closing his eyes, finally letting himself relax as your figure started to fade from the corner of the room where it’d been standing, silently looking at him. “won’t lose me, can’t wait to go home, johnny.”

[evilminji]

Been Watching Weird Fruit Explorer(?)... and I just...

W-Who let Bored Danny have BooTube?

Sorry, YOU-Tube. He has TWO Apps now. BooTube is bigger. Way more random, yet... somehow more niche? Meh. It's what happens when you get billions of billions of people who all have their own Obsessions to rant over, on a site.

Ember's channel is pretty lit, tho, ngl.

He stopped using YOU-Tube almost overnight. Too many ads, weird algorithmic pushiness. No thanks. It was too small and too "trying to take my money". You know?

Buuuuut? See.... TUCKER is the Tech guy.

Coding and that sort of stuff. HE does hands on work. You want a toaster? He can MAKE you a toaster! With LAZERS! Runs off The Goo! But a program? Eeeeeeeh? Hit it with hammer maybe? Monkey make fire? Hit with stick? Blergh.

Yeah, he can SORTA push through.

But he suuuucks.

And like... he had a headache, okay? His project had just, quiet literally, exploded in his face. So when he looked at his phone? All the apps were blobs. He clicked the one that LOOKED kinda right. Shoved his arm in his phone and brute forced a channel set up.

He figured he could ramble about Space!

It's not like he cared is anyone LISTENS or not! It's a "for him" thing, you know? Like a diary. But more... putting on a ☆~show~☆?

So he rambles from the floor of his Lair's Lab, crashs and wails in the distance, green sky occasionally visible as he lazily floats by windows. Dropping... juuuust past human knowledge understanding of Space. Talking like he's STUDYING somewhere. Referencing PAPERS no human will ever be able to find.

But a few they WILL.

Some of which, are currently? Only half written.

But then? Oh YEAH... he should eat! You know... Sam keeps bringing him fruits and veggies and stuff from her internship at that Botanical Lair. Stuff never seen before of Earth. Or hasn't been seen in centuries.

Again, like, a FEW that? Randomly? Have???

He picks up something sharply purple, bright orange insides. Crisp crunch. He makes a face. And starts to ramble about it, distracted from Space. "Weirdly mushroom-y" he notes. "Kinda bubblegum sweet? But like... CHEAP bubblegum. Like it hits you all at once and is kinda chemically. But it disappears real fast? Huh. Spicy too..."

It's the first video on the Playlist. One of hundreds. Two of the green Lanterns RECONIZE that fruit ad HIGHLY toxic to humans, can't recognize what planet they're seeing. Or how this alien teen got himself on YouTube.

He seems... unaware of how incredibly famous he's become.

But his strange techno Pharoah friend has not. HE is both perfectly aware and apparently amused. Has taken to feeding him rare and hazardous flora and fauna, to see if it tastes good.

....there have been an alarming number of plants from dead planets.

And the comments the kid makes? Alarming as hell.

Sam's just pleased everybody's getting their greens. Danny's glad him n tuck get to hang and do "try weird foods and fuck around, bro time". They've made lazers! Talked about stuff! Debated why Martian Manhunter is THE superior Justice League member.

Danny understands. Wonder Woman is a BAMF. But he's biased, Tucker. He doesn't CARE if she has a sword and flowy, impressive locks! Shape-shifting telepath! From MARS!!! *imaginary mic drop*

And Tucker? Is conquering the YouTube scene with this charming, weird, relatable young alien. Who rambles about Space, debates nerd stuff, eats weird plants and describes them, and makes sci-fi technology! Theme? WHAT THEME? Phantom is a weird channel, man. You never know what you'll find!

And no one can get rid of it.

Believe them, governments have TRIED. Censorship? Not possible. Not without removing the whole SITE.

[astarion-obsessions]

I think not enough people understand that Astarion doesn't want you to be his main or only source of blood. This even stands in direct contrast to what he really wants to achieve with biting Tav. Let me explain.

Why Astarion doesn't want you to be his blood bag

Let me start with explaining how I approached this topic. First of all, when I triggered the bite scene in my playthrough, I obviously let Astarion drink from my Tav. But then I got curious. What happens when I don't stop him? He's said I could trust him just a moment ago, didn't he? So I did just that, I trusted him literally with my life. 

Aaaand... he killed me. Well. What did I expect from a vampire, really. But that he actually drained me dry broke my heart. I really wanted to trust him, to reach out and show him that I didn't judge him for what he was and so on. I was really disappointed in him and couldn't quite grasp why he would do this. Was it a conscious decision? Did he lose control? Surely he would apologise and explain everything to me once someone resurrected me, returning the trust I was giving him the night prior, right?... right?

Of course not. The dialogue after him killing Tav was... at least as disappointing as him killing Tav in the first place. He shows his usual attitude, apologises half-heartedly and then just keeps going on with talking about draining the occasional bandit. He even snaps when you mention the topic of him feeding after that with something like "I already apologised, what more do you want?".

There's no real regret, no emotions. He simply doesn't care.

We know that he didn't care in the beginning, he tells us as much when he confesses his unwanted, growing feelings towards Tav in act 2. But still the whole bite scene didn't sit right with me until…

The Nightmare 

I randomly stumbled upon a clip of Astarion having a nightmare, so I researched about it and even started an Astarion run to experience it myself. So, if you play as Astarion, at the second long rest of act 1 he has a nightmare about Cazador, in which he recites the rules that defined how Astarion and the other spawn had to live:

First, thou shalt not drink of the blood of thinking creatures. 

Second, thou shalt obey me in all things. 

Third, thou shalt not leave my side unless directed. 

Fourth, thou shalt know that thou art mine. 

However Astarion reacts to this dream, he jolts awake afterwards and instinctively panics that he needs to find a way back to his master as soon as possible. His eyes set on his companions, who are sleeping / meditating peacefully around the fire, and then a thought passes his mind.

He could try to break one of Cazador's rules right then and there. He's able to stand in the sun, to bathe in running water, so maybe…

And that's why he decides to bite a companion. Astarion wakes up utterly terrified of what his master will do to him if he doesn't return to him in an instant - and he knows all too well what kind of horrors would await him if he so much as dares to think about rebelling again (read about that here) - so he is in desperate need of confirmation that he is now able to withstand and actively break the rules that have dominated his life for two centuries.

He needs to know that he is able to drink the blood of a thinking creature. And there they are. His clueless companions served on a silver platter. It's like an invitation to him, to test his boundaries. And who would be more fitting than the good hearted leader of the party Astarion wanted to (or already has) seduce(d) anyway?

This piece of information shed a whole new light on the bite scene. But let's look a bit closer at that. 

The Bite Night 

The very first thing Tav registers about what's going on with Astarion that night is him baring his fangs right above us, about to sink them into our flesh. He pulls back as soon as we open our eyes, retreating immediately until there's a safe distance between him and Tav. 

This may be the first time Tav gets to know that Astarion is a vampire, so he gets defensive and tells us that he's never killed a person for food, only animals. But then, instead of letting the idea of feeding on Tav go, he insists that animals aren't enough. 

But it's not enough. Not if I have to fight. I feel so weak. 

If I just had a little blood, I could think clearer. Fight better. Please. 

Then he goes on, literally pleading to get what he wants while putting on a sad expression in the end, even averting his gaze. 

And if we now have in mind that he just woke up from a nightmare about Cazador, feeling powerless and in desperate need of even a glimpse of hope that he might escape Cazador's cruel grip, his lines make a lot of sense. He's veiling the truth, of course, but not all of what he says is a lie. 

He indeed feels weak - powerless in fact - so drinking Tav's blood (the blood of a thinking creature) could prove that he may have regained a bit of power over himself, which had been exclusively reserved for Cazador the last 200 years. This would absolutely make him feel stronger, more confident than he's felt for a long, long time. 

And he indeed could think clearer after tasting Tav's blood, because this would bring clarity to the question if he is now able to break Cazador's rules on purpose and therefore give him information to work with when he needs to think about what to do next. 

Right after this, we get the chance to push into Astarion's mind, and if we do this, we can see what he thinks about. 

His mind opens up, revealing cracked and quivering memories. At their heart, you see dark eyes, commanding you to feed. 

You open your mouth and bite down. Not into a tender neck, but in the twisting body of a rat - the only thing your master lets you eat. 

He recalls the memory of how his master used to force him to eat disgusting vermin. As his memory is told, we can clearly see how deeply this affects him, for he can't keep up his walls of defensiveness and detachment. They just crack, crumble and reveal his misery clearly for Tav to observe. When we ask him about it directly afterwards, he first seems to search for a way out - a witty remark, anything - but gives up almost immediately. And he looks and sounds just completely defeated and tired, confirming what Tav just saw in his mind. 

He goes on with talking about trust. I think here he's seeing a chance to gain Tav's sympathy. If he already reveals such delicate information about his past, he can as well make use of it. So he appeals to Tav's understanding, offering us that this past is the reason for him only trusting Tav slowly. But then he immediately adds that now he trusts Tav, and that in return Tav can trust him, too. 

What he does here is displaying himself as pitiful, gaining Tav's sympathy, then seemingly going out of his way and saying that despite all he does trust Tav, which puts Tav in the position to follow suit with returning the trust… which Astarion definitely lied about on his part. But that's what he does. Manipulating. 

If we then respond with "You tried to bite me. How can I trust you?" instead of assuring us of his trustworthiness with more manipulation, he gets frustrated. 

Because we don't have a choice! Not if we're going to save ourselves from these worms. 

But he goes on with masking his reasons, even if he gave us a hint right in the beginning of act 1 when we picked him up, where he said that he would rather control the tadpole instead of removing it. If we play as Astarion, it gets clear pretty fast that he holds onto the tadpole, because it seems to be the only thing that had been able to "save" him from Cazador whilst no one and nothing else even attempted to help him for two centuries. Of course he would not want to get rid of the tadpole just like that. But he says so nonetheless to align with Tav's goals and display himself as useful. 

And then he does something interesting. 

I need you alive. You need me strong. 

Please. Only be a taste, I swear. I'll be well, you'll be fine, and everything can go back to normal. 

In the beginning of this conversation he mentioned he needed the blood to fight better. Now he takes up on this by saying that Tav needs him strong, hinting on him getting stronger after having a taste of Tav's blood. And then he promises that after this "everything can go back to normal", which right now means Astarion feeding on animals again. 

A few things about this are odd. 

Firstly, "only be a taste". Everyone, literally everyone has heard about the insatiable hunger of vampires. So how is it supposed to work that Astarion gets stronger from just a taste of Tav's blood? For how long? A few hours? Not nearly long enough to pose a real advantage, eh? For me this makes no sense. And if we think about his true intentions - wanting to find out if he can break Cazador's rule - just a taste would be absolutely enough. (And after he bites Tav without killing them, he even says that he needs something more filling!) 

Secondly, if Astarion really wanted to become stronger with the help of Tav's blood, why would he promise to go back to normal afterwards? He just offered Tav a stronger companion but then immediately nullified this argument by literally saying that this will be a one time arrangement. 

Thirdly, he subtly offers a bargain. "You give me your blood, I will be a stronger fighter for you." He did so in the beginning as well, repeating it with different words. And it fits his character very well to do so, because for all he knows everything comes with a price. He almost gets beaten to death and Cazador mercifully comes to his rescue? The price is a never ending life of torment and abuse. Astarion helps a potential victim for Cazador to flee? The price is a year of starvation, locked up in a dusty and dark tomb without knowing if it will ever find an end. Mindflayers rescued him from Cazador, (passively) granting him to possibly be free of him at last? The price is becoming a tentacled monster in the end. 

If we then allow him to bite us, he's visibly surprised about our graciousness, but of course doesn't let this chance slip and suggests getting comfortable instantly. Then he finally gets to sink his teeth into Tav's neck. This part of the scene can more or less be viewed from both sides - Astarion's and Tav's. 

He begins to feed on Tav and after a bit we can decide to interrupt him, but have to pass an ability check first. This repeats a second time when playing Tav, and even if it's only one AC when we play Astarion and decide to bite a companion, it still aligns, showing that Astarion seemingly loses himself in the taste of Tav's blood - which is very likely because (as he later tells us) we were the first humanoid he's ever fed on, so it's imaginable that Tav's blood must be tasting almost divine to him. 

This theory is supported by his actions after we fail the first AC or just let him continue. He grabs the back of Tav's head to pull them towards himself, emphasising on how greedy he is sucking the blood out of Tav. The camera even uses the exact same angles before failing or skipping the first AC and after, so the comparison is easy and the difference is clear:

If we then fail or skip the next AC, Astarion just drains us dry… And it gets even better after the bite night. 

The Morning After 

When Tav gets revived and then talks to Astarion, he is visibly surprised to see us, after he left the dead body of Tav behind with saying "Oh no, something terrible has happened". Sure Astarion, something… 

All of this happens when Astarion still doesn't care for Tav. He reacts with panic when we confront him with the fact that he literally killed us, and just manages to get his expression under control after a few seconds. I mean, just look at him:

'Killed' feels like a strong word. Not many corpses have your vigour. 

He definitely knows what he's done, and that 'killed' is indeed the right word for it, he is just very very bad at coping with guilt (which is amazingly analysed by thelikesoffinn - definitely read this, you'll understand Astarion so much better after this). 

He instantly lays the focus on our codependency again, that we need each other and so on. If we question why we should keep him around, he answers with:

A strong, well-fed vampire? I'm a powerful weapon - you'd be a fool to toss me aside now. 

With mentioning this, he wants to make sure that Tav will let him stay by their side and therefore grant him protection. 

But more importantly he continues:

Anyway, last night was an aberration. It will never happen again. 

He doesn't even start with something like "Next time I'll be more careful" or anything similar. He straight up says that it will never happen again. Period. If we then ask who he will feed on next time he gets hungry, he presents the idea of feeding on villains and bandits "who need killing anyway". And this is exactly what he wants. This even shows in his reaction to Tav's response to his suggestion.

If we agree and therefore allow him to feed on our enemies ("Sounds good. Glad we could agree"), this is how he reacts:

As am I. I'm starting to feel a little peckish already. 

This itself doesn't sound all too enthusiastic, but we get his approval up, which definitely shows that he very much likes that Tav agreed. 

On the contrary, if we suggest he can feed on Tav, ignoring his will wish to feed on villains ("Look, I'm not against you feeding on me, but only if we talk about it first"), this is his reaction:

Of course! This sounds eminently reasonable. 

I shall wait patiently until you suggest we… dine together. 

Doesn't sound too bad either, eh? But we don't get his approval. He doesn't disapprove, of course, because this is still a thousand times better than what he had until then, but still not what he really wants… 

So, what does all of this mean for the initial question? 

Conclusion 

The crucial point here is what it means for Astarion to feed on Tav. The only things he remembers since Cazador turned him, are being relentlessly dominated and horrifyingly abused. The things Astarion wants the most are to be safe and to finally have control over himself again. 

He bit Tav for the sole purpose of finding out if he can be free of Cazador's rules. So why would he jump right into being dependent on Tav? He suggests to feed on villains, because then he is free of anyone's mercy. He doesn't need to rely on Tav to graciously allow him to get a drop of blood. He can do this himself now. 

This is such an important step for his character growth, to find the way to his autonomy again, so if we only allow him to feed on Tav, it instantly sets him back into old habits of bowing to his masters words - or in this case Tav's. Because it's all hes been doing for the last two centuries of his life. 

So, as much as the thought of the self-sacrificing offer to be his personal blood bag may seem romantic or whatever, it's actually the exact opposite, trapping Astarion in what he desperately tries to escape from. The restrictions that come with someone dominating him mentally and physically. And as I mentioned earlier, he doesn't believe in the goodness of people. For him every "kind" act has a price and he likes to know what he has to pay, so he wouldn't even want to just drink Tav's blood without Tav getting anything out of it. He would most certainly expect Tav one day to come around with something he doesn't want to give or do, so he wants to control such situations beforehand. 

All he wants is to make his own decisions and be free in every way possible… 

So please just let him drain some bandits, will ya? 

[cu7ie]

BIMBOFICATION. ft. geto suguru

(>◡•́)— ★ authors note. IM BACK BITCHES. WITH THE HORNY SHIT AKAKKAKAKA . kinktober day one! masterpost here. ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝ content warnings. dumbification, reader is a bimbo - ditzy, hypersexual, huge airhead vibes be warned. they are obedient and listen to what geto tells them. reader wears feminine clothes, has a 'clit', and is referred to as a 'girl', no use of she/her (ahahaha i love gender things). cock sucking throat fucking all that nasty gluk gluk shit y'eard?

You’re not stupid.

Forgetful, yeah! Occasionally uneducated, of course. But dumb? You’d surmise that conclusion to be a bit of a stretch; despite how often you find yourself trying to convince people of the contrary.

It is typical of humans to forego their ‘common sense’ on occasion, though it never seems to be a problem when anyone else does it! When Gojo eats all his candy and doesn’t share with anyone at the party, it’s cool; but when you do that, you get all kinds of pushback: “What’s wrong with you?” Nothing! The chocolate was gonna melt if you didn’t do something about it! “What are we supposed to give to the trick or treaters now?” All the twizzlers you left behind, duh.

Shoko gave you a look and sipped her sake, Gojo’s pointed barks of laughter chasing you back to the comfort of the kitchen. There you see Geto; your boyfriend, whose presence settles amicably in the gaps of your expression when he looks up at you with that beckoning fondness. He crooks his fingers and you bound over quite thoughtlessly, much to his evident amusement. 

Despite how much you insisted on matching costumes, Geto struck out of his own accord, the fake knife accompanying his Ghostface costume down on the counter. The real knife he was using to cut up the peppers is set aside as he busies himself with the sink.

You’re wearing one of those sexy school uniforms. Mini bordering on microskirt, paired with a cute number that shows your midriff- the dip in your chest. Your gogo boots click noisily on the floor a little as you sidle up next to him.

Geto pats your head when you get close enough, hands damp after a fresh rinse, and you preen from the contact. “Hey babyyy!” You gush a little, setting down the rest of the candy on the counter. “Can you get me a bowl?” He tilts head at you a little, looks down at the bag a second.

“Babe, didn’t I tell you to get the big bag?” Geto asks and shuffles over to the cabinet as you wash your hands to pick up where he left off. “Yeah! I did, doesn’t it look big to you?” 

“Yeah… of course it does. But remember that conversation we had about eating things that aren’t yours?” He brings back the bowl, but also a sternness to his grin, which all of a sudden doesn’t meet his eye. “Well yeah Suguru!” You’re looking down now, cutting vegetables with sudden interest and precision, sweeping it up into little piles. “It's not like I'm stupid …” His figure lingers in your periphery as the words leave your lips, the air about him suddenly feeling … tense. 

Then his hand is on yours.

“Look at me honey.” He gives you a squeeze, and you go to look up on instinct. Hesitate. “What?” Your grip on the knife softens, and it soon clatters atop the cutting board. “What, I said.”

“I never said you were stupid.” Your eyes met his before you realized, and the indignant scowl you want to make shrivels up inside you like a dried cocoon. “You just have a hard time saying what you mean right?” He blinks owlishly at you. “I know you don’t wanna lie to me.” “But I’m not-” Geto interrupts with a shake of his head. “Maybe one time I could forgive you, but twice? To my face?” You feel the sun in your face, fire hot heat setting you ablaze with embarrassment, feigned ignorance. A nagging feeling to obey. “I… I..”

“You?” He chimes cloyingly. You stiffen your upper lip. Hone your resolve. 

“M’not lying! Now lemme go!” Your arm budges when he wants it to, so you’re not quite moving until a few agonizing seconds pass, when Suguru lets out a low whistle and sigh, shaking his head at you dismissively, before you’re allowed to resume cutting vegetables. He dumps the candy into the rest of the bowl and takes his leave, chattering with his friends in the living room before coming back, empty handed.

The silence is maddening. He comes back, shuffles around the kitchen, then stops somewhere just beyond your sight, and craning your neck to look back at him would beckon his scrutiny. So you refrain. Stir fry the vegetables, and refrain. Feel a bead of sweat crest on your forehead and slide down your cheek from the heat. Refrain.

The breath against your neck is sudden and swift as Suguru fixes himself behind you, knocking  his head gently against yours as a grasping hand slides over your stomach.  He goes for the gas on the stove before you can get a protest out, his other hand teasing the rim of your skirt, smoothing down a short pleat till his palm can grope your thigh.

“After a little deliberation … I’ve decided I forgive you. For the lying.” His fingers dimple the skin he touches, sliding ever so slowly under the fabric. “Because I know you’re not a silly girl. You can be quite attentive when you want to be, can’t you?” 

“Yeah… yeah I can.” Your breath quickens a little as you press your ass back into the thin fabric of his hood, the feeling of his cock growing to hardness making you quiver with anticipation. His right hand on your thigh stills, tracing around your side and to your hip - growing stiff and heavy. The left dips boldly under your costume, a finger or two stalling in the spot right above your clit.

“Gojo and Shoko offered to get more candy - I can finish cooking after we’re finished here.” His lips press teasingly against the shell of your ear, and your resistance dwindles a bit. “Right now, all I want from you is a favor.” “Favor? I can do that - I can..” Geto chuckles. “I know you can sweetheart. Shh, sh. It’s my turn to do the talking now, okay? Listen.” You nod sharply. 

“Turn around.” You do. In an instant, stretching out your spine cat-like to press your chest up against him, your nipples hardening like pebbles beneath your blouse. You close your eyes and lean in for the kiss that should be inevitable - but no warmth meets your lips. Instead, an apathetic gloved finger. “Mmph?” Your confusion is apparent. You blink your eyes open and are greeted by a wry smile.

“Sometimes I wonder why it’s so hard for you to just listen. Then it came to me - an epiphany. Little girls like you just have a certain kind of skill set. Forgive me, okay? I just wasn’t giving you the right direction. But it’s okay! It’ll never happen again.” With those words, his expression grows less compromising - resolute, grim, determined. Almost makes you want to leap out of your skin - the fright of him not being happy with you bearing down greatly on your mind.

His hands come up to your shoulders and apply downward pressure. “On your knees.” 

You follow without hesitation.

His mirth wrinkles the corners of his eyes as you squirm down there. The floor is cold and your knees are getting dirty, and he knows that stupid look you make when you’re thinking to complain; though he’s never seen this level of restraint from you before. You’re quiet as you dig your fingers into your skin, and he knows he’s proud.

“Good girl.” Something blossoms in your chest when he says that, profound yet airy, a lightheadedness emblazoned into your forehead while the blood settles in your cheeks. Then that damn hand comes down again; which you thought was gonna muss your hair a bit more, but settles rather firmly against the back of your head.

His loose costume he’s wearing isn’t big enough to hide how hard his cock is, but it’s like he’s making you wait for it - want and yearn for it. Because he doesn’t move for a moment, just gets used to the look of you down on your knees as your fidgeting starts to feel more and more uncontrollable.

“Hey! Are you just gonna leave me high n’ dr-” A white finger presses to his lips as his other hand keeps holding your head. “Quiet now, girl. Be quiet.”

You’re good! A little impatient, but you’re good, goddamn it! Trying to be, for him - the love of your life, who’s got you down on your knees, fixing to ruin your pretty makeup for the afternoon.

Quiet. 

Quiet. 

Too damn quiet. Too much fucking silence. He’s looking at you, you think - because your eyes are shut tight and the embarrassment is beginning to dawn on you, and everything’s hot, and scary, and Suguru - is he mad at you?-

The sudden feeling of his hot hard cock flopping against your cheek makes you leap like a fish to water. Your eyes bulge open a bit, and your mouth gapes open in that instant, tongue lolling out for purchase on his heated flesh, heady scent weaseling into your nostrils and making your thighs clamp down around your own hand - which you hadn’t noticed snuck between your thighs. Your twitching fingers reach up to grab it …

“Stop.” You whine loose and loud, eyes flickering up to his face to communicate your desperation, and confusion. “Just use your mouth.” His hand reaches towards the base of his cock and flops it onto your lip proper; and you suckle on the head like it’s the sole thing providing you oxygen. “See? There are things you’re damn good at … Oh fuck -”  All you can hear besides his voice is your heart thumping in your chest and the saliva building in your mouth, the sloppy ‘schlorp’ as you take him to the base - deep into your throat - and back out again, the salty taste of his cock and precum something you’ve missed terribly.

A little voice crawls along the back of your mind. At home, it says. This is where you belong. Or maybe that’s Suguru’s wheedling. Words are falling from his lips, but you’re drowning in an effortless dream. “Good girl. … easy … taking me so well.”

The grip on the back of your head has grown tighter, as he shifts and adjusts his hips to help your further along. Your wet slurping is undercut by the sound of his balls slapping against your chin, fuzzy, familiar and pleasant. 

Then it’s as stern as a pinch. You can feel his cock bulge out your throat, cheeks hollowed as you take him to the base. Tears sting your eyes a bit, but it’s a liberating pain. His grunts grow in their intensity, and you feel soaked to the bone, sitting on your hands so they can’t jump up and fondle his balls - you won’t disobey! You refuse, refuse, refuse -

“Close, haah, close your eyes, precious.” Your tummy flutters as you weld them shut. Suguru’s hips stutter, pause, then pull back. 

A schlicking sound, then your prize. You open your mouth as you realize he’s cumming all over your face - streams of it making it into your happily awaiting maw, while the occasional strand undershoots - getting some on your chest and cheeks. Suguru sighs happier than you’ve heard in a while, and a part of you feels effortlessly at ease. Reset and pleasant and whole; besides the aching nag between your thighs. “You can speak now.” You try, throat fucked raw and a little raggedy. “A-are you going to fuck me now? Please? I can’t - I can’t wait anymore!” Suguru smiles gently, but insincerely. “No, of course not. This was a lesson, not a reward.” He tucks himself casually back into his costume. “Besides, we have guests, honey.”

You pout, feel like you wanna cry a little. “Don’t give me those crocodile tears. You’re a big girl, remember?”

“...I guess.”  You sniffle. Suguru nods and helps you back to your shaky feet. “Not ‘I guess’. You are.” He grants you a chaste kiss on your lips, licking a bit of himself off of you, then pulling back. “Now, go clean yourself up.” He starts towards the sink, eager to resume dinner. “Those two should be back any second now.”

[cherryrainn]

Headcanons of Adam and Lucifer with an s/o who has really bad anger issues and she gets angry pretty easily and lashes out when having a rough day, but afterwards she cries and apologizes for everything and makes it up them

HEADCANONS OF ADAM AND LUCIFER WITH A S/O WITH ANGER ISSUES .

; pairing ; lucifer x fem! reader, adam x fem! reader

; note ; thank you for your ask!!!

; warnings ; none

ADAM ★

adam, being the egotistical and abrasive angel that he is, initially finds your anger issues somewhat amusing.

he's not one to shy away from conflict or a challenge, so your fiery temperament doesn't scare him off.

he's used to being an asshole himself, so he might not take it too personally when you lash out.

in fact, he might even throw a sarcastic comment your way, adding fuel to the fire.

however, there are moments when your anger catches him off guard.

maybe you snapped at him in a way that hit a nerve

in these instances, he might give you a genuine look of surprise, wondering what set you off.

after your anger subsides and you start crying, adam is a bit awkward at first.

comfort isn't exactly his forte, but he's not heartless either.

he might grumble a bit, telling you to cut it out and that it's okay and he really doesn't care

but deep down, he doesn't completely dismiss your feelings.

if your apology comes with some sort of gesture, like bringing him a drink or doing something to make up for the outburst, he'll appreciate the effort.

it doesn't necessarily mean he'll say it out loud, but he notices these things.

occasionally, he might throw your own angry words back at you, but he tries not to

there might be times when he shows a surprising level of patience with you.

he might not be the best at comforting, but he won't completely shut you down either.

LUCIFER ★

lucifer, being the king of hell, is no stranger to dealing with volatile personalities.

your anger issues may catch him off guard initially though.

when you get angry, lucifer's first instinct is to remain calm and collected.

he's seen it all in hell, after all.

you can take it all out on him

he really doesn't mind! he loves you and just wants you to feel better

lucifer pays attention to your needs.

he knows that sometimes you need space when you're upset, so he might give you some time before approaching you again.

your outbursts don't scare him; in fact, he finds your passion intriguing

when you lash out, he might simply raise an eyebrow or give you a bemused look.

he never fights back, he just looks at you.

now, the crying part might throw him off a bit.

lucifer is no stranger to regret, and he understands the weight of remorse.

when you come to him, tearfully apologizing for your angry outbursts, he reassures you that he's not holding it against you.

he appreciates your sincerity and acknowledges the effort you put into making amends.

but you really don't have to. he doesn't want you to feel bad. ever.

[contentloadingandstuff]

Yae Miko x Ganyu-like!Male!Kitsune!Reader

CW: None. Pure fluff.

For Miko, there's nothing cuter than you in the entire world. 

Kitsune tend to be confident, slightly malicious and crafty by nature, yet there you are. A complete opposite of her, and the traditional traits of the Kitsune race as a whole. 

But Miko? She is all for it. 

You’re quite the shy person, making you especially vulnerable to teasing. Even a slight remark sent your way is able to knock you off balance, leaving you flustered and blushy. Your occasional attempts at turning the tables usually end with Miko being able to effortlessly steer the conversation in her favor, and use your teasing attempts against you. 

Words are one thing, but physical contact? Sometimes Miko is genuinely worried you will melt or set on fire after she does something as ordinary as holding your hand or tracing her fingers along your back or neck areas. Maybe this timidness of yours, cute as it is, has some downsides? Luckily for you, Miko doesn’t exploit your weak spot to keep you a constant flustered mess. It’s not like she has the heart to. 

Why? Because you work so, so much. How can you do nine or ten hour shifts on a regular, weekly basis? And spend all this time slouching over paperwork too? For Miko, two forms to fill is a personal tragedy, but you seem to be able to handle whole mountains of documents with unshaken resolve. A truly fascinating creature you are. 

She doesn’t like the overtime you constantly take on, however. The core of the issue isn’t that you’re a pushover - though Miko is genuinely worried that your lack of confidence will get you in trouble some day - but that your work ethic, admirable as it is, stands as fairly rigid and harmful to yourself. Miko tries her best to convince you to change - she tries to reason with you, bribe you with extra affection or threaten you with being grumpy if you don't come home when you should. Sometimes it works, most times it doesn't. Luckily, being close friends with Ei has benefits - a few right words whispered into her ear will land you some much needed leave. 

When you finally return home, so adorably spent and sleepy, Miko won't spoil the daylights out of you. No - she will spoil not only the daylights, but also nightlights, dawnlights and dusklights. You will always be greeted with a warm meal and a warm bath. As your wife, it's her duty to care for you and reward all your efforts, no? Her skittish little husband brings out quite a motherly side of her out into the light. And rightfully so - you deserve more than the entire world. 

Once you’re full and relaxed, Miko’s going to cuddle you right to sleep. She’ll gladly let you rest your cute, weary face on her lap or her belly. As you drift off, Miko will play with your hair and ramble about whatever comes to her mind in a whispered tone, marveling at how peaceful your sleeping features are. 

While certainly not the typical Kitsune, you're certainly a fine specimen. Big, fluffy ears, beautiful tails and an even more cuddly fox form make you all the more precious (and handsome) in her eyes. But you don't seem to share her opinion. You are always noticeably shy when somebody mentions your unique features, even more so than usual. It's all about standing out, you try to tell her, but she always silences you with a kiss. Miko will always tell you that your ears are a point of pride and a source of respect for you, not a stigma. The respectful interest in your person doesn't seem to convince you of the benefits of being a fox envoy, so maybe her attention will, hm? Expect a lot of care directed at your special features. Miko will not only caress them, but also groom them. Such beautiful fur needs proper maintenence, and it's her privilage to indulge you.

You’re a bit more vertically challenged than her, but she doesn’t mind. Not at all. Your compact size makes you much easier to handle, and - aside from the obvious teasing opportunities - give her just the right tool to take care of your health. Finished work, but you want to do some at home? Nope. She’s going to grab you and carry you away to bed where she will cuddle all your senseless overworking impulses out of you. You say you need to work on a weekend? Good luck trying to get out of her iron grip and the deathold of her five fluffy tails in the morning. Miko is far stronger than she looks!

Unlike her, You’re quite innocent. While her idea of spending the evening after a nice date is, shall we say, a bit “for adults only”, you? Battleships, cookies and hot cocoa - that is what’s on your mind. Sometimes, Miko can’t help but chuckle at you and shake her head in disbelief. How can you be so cute so effortlessly? 

Your natural gentleness is very adorable. Miko can’t recall a time when you were raising your voice, aside from the one time when she took you on a date to the Test Of Courage. It was your idea initially - maybe you wanted to impress her by showing your bravery? She’s not sure. At first, Miko was quite amused at how anxious you were, but as soon as she realized just how tightly you held on to her, she got you out of there. Aside from lots of cuddles and kisses to calm your heart, you got a stern yet gentle lecture. 

Miko loves you as is, and there’s nothing she would ever change about you. 

Thanks for reading!

[iced-nct]

Greedy NJM

Pairing: CFO Na Jaemin x F Reader Word Count: 4.5k Warnings: Suggestive, occasional swear, jealous Jaemin Synopsis: Jaemin knew the second you walked into his office to interview for a sales role that he needed to hire you. Incredibly well spoken and driven, you reminded him a lot of himself in some ways. Except he didn’t want you for a sales position. Oh no. He wanted you as his personal assistant. Promptly after meeting with you, he let go of his current assistant to hire you for it instead. If Jaemin is going to be stuck at his desk for ten hours a day, he’ll be damned if he doesn’t have a pretty thing to stare at just outside his door. Maybe you’ll be able to tame the infamous office playboy. 

a/n: just casually dipping in to drop a 4.5k Jaemin Apply Within fic that I have been working on for like years lmfao. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy! I promise I'm going to be more active with my fics again!!!

Jaemin’s secretary blinked slowly at him, as if to process what she had just heard. “You are… firing me? Did I do something?” 

“No, I just needed a change of scenery! And I’m not firing you, I am just relocating you to a different department” He chirped in response, his voice cheerful though his eyes were dark and expression firm.

Jaemin turned his back to her to head into his corner office, “oh. One more thing.” He turned, one palm pressed firmly against the door frame as he leaned back. “I need all your things moved by tonight. My new secretary starts tomorrow morning” He winked before slamming his door closed.

-

Today could not have been off to a worse start. First there was the hole in your favorite pair of stockings, then your coffee machine decided to have a meltdown, and finally you had missed the bus that would allow you extra time to grab coffee on the way to the office. As far as first day’s go, this was not your best. Having to settle for a pair of plain sheer black tights to wear under your skirt and ordering a taxi, knowing full well the extra money was well worth having time to grab a cup of coffee. You hurried out the door, laptop bag and purse in hand, just hoping as you hustled into the back of the cab that the day wouldn’t get any worse.

The line at the coffee shop was surprisingly not horrendous, it only took about 10 minutes before you were holding your iced coffee and making your way through the entrance to Neo Dream. Jaemin’s office was on the 20th floor, you remembered this from your interview. As you moved to get off on your floor a solid chest made contact with your cup, spilling coffee all down the front of yourself and the stark white dress shirt in front of you. 

“I am so sorry! I was in such a rush, I should have paid better attention” You rambled, hoping that this stranger wouldn’t chew you out for such an accident.

“Miss Y/n?” You looked up to see Jaemin smiling down at you. “First day jitters?” He asked, a playful tone in his voice.

Your cheeks flushed with heat, “I am very sorry Mr. Na. I will clean this up right away” 

“Don’t bother, I will call the janitorial staff to clean up. We should get started with your tour, after we get changed” He tilted his head, indicating for you to follow.

The view from Jaemin’s office was stunning to say the least, the sun was almost up now but you could imagine the sunrises and sunsets that could be viewed from these windows.

“Yes, the view is lovely isn’t it?” You turned to find Jaemin, a sliver of his chest just barely exposed to you as he buttoned up a black dress shirt. “I apologize, I seem to have run out of women’s blouses, but I do have a knit sweater that may work” he jested while handing you a gray wool sweater. 

It was clearly men’s, but this would have to make do for today. Just as you were about to slip the sweater on over your stained blouse a hand stopped you. 

“If we don’t send these off to the drycleaners, the stain will set and ruin your shirt. I can’t have that, and I don’t want you to either. Just wear the sweater and I’ll send your shirt off with mine” His smile was charming, almost knee weakening. 

“Oh okay… but is there somewhere else for me to change?” Your head tilted in question.

Jaemin’s eyes widened with realization “Yes, oh gosh I’m sorry, I will turn around. You let me know when you’re decent”

You turned your back to him and began unbuttoning the shirt. Unbeknownst to you, Jaemin could make out the reflection of your chest in the window beside him. Not much could be seen, but the way the black lace of your bra held you had him wishing you allowed him to watch. Just as Jaemin’s dress pants started to get a little too tight for his liking, you cleared your throat, snapping him back from his thoughts.

“Thank you for the sweater! What should I get started with today?” You asked, whilst handing over your stained shirt. 

“You can get started on unpacking your desk and setting yourself up. I have some afternoon meetings that I will be in today, so I doubt we will see eachother very much. Just answer the phone if it rings and book in meetings for this week” You nodded at the instructions and headed out, closing the door behind you.

You paused to lean on it, breathing slowly as the picture of that small sliver of Jaemin’s defined chest floated around in your head. In the office behind you, your boss sat down at his desk, taking all the effort in the world to not call you back in to help him deal with the situation beneath his desk right now.

-

Days had turned into weeks, and though nothing of note had happened after that first eventful morning. You had settled in wonderfully, making friends with people on the finance floor, accompanying Jaemin to the occasional meeting to take notes for him when he didn’t feel like it, and canceling meetings he had with Mark just because it was funny to watch them squabble. There was lots of extra chatter throughout the office as everyone buzzed with excitement for the first annual company gala. A newer finance colleague had asked you to the gala a few days ago, and you had gladly accepted, assuming that it was a friendly gesture from one newbie to another. Excitement filled your chest as you thought about how much fun it would be to attend this company gala. The excitement was cut short however, when the door to Jaemin’s office swung open. Your boss stood there staring daggers at you, dread rushed in as you mentally went through every file you placed on his desk today, every meeting you had booked. What could you have possibly done wrong?

“Y/n. Come in here please.” Jaemin’s voice was deadly cold as he strode back towards his desk.

You slinked in, he gestured for you to close the door. “Did I do something wrong?” You asked, hesitating to turn around to face him.

“Have a seat, we’ll talk about it” He nodded to the chair in front of his desk for you to sit.

Despite sitting, the load on your shoulders felt ten times heavier under Jaemin’s stare. He slid a small pink envelope across the desk to you, your name scrawled in ink on the front. 

“What is this?” He tapped the envelope with his middle finger.

“I’m not sure, I haven’t seen that before” You answered, and truthfully you hadn’t seen it before.

“It was in the files you brought me this morning, just tucked between some reports. Imagine my surprise when I opened it and found out my trusted secretary is having an office romance with one of my junior finance employees” the smile that hung on Jaemin’s lips did not reach his eyes. 

Your eyes widened “office romance? No no you’ve misunderstood. He just asked me to the gala last week, that's all. I have no idea what the letter is and I- wait. You opened it?” 

The smile faded as he processed your words. Oh Jaemin would not have his secretary on the arm of anyone other than him, and he would make sure of that. Despite the other women around the office, who Jaemin had been making his way through, you managed to get under his skin in all the right ways.

“Sorry, I thought you knew” He started, propping his head up on his hands “secretaries are required to escort their managers to the gala. Mark’s rules” Jaemin grinned lazily.

“Oh! So I’ll still be working, right?” you thought about all the extra things you would need to prepare in this case, starting with a much bigger clutch to keep all Jaemin’s business cards in.

Jaemin smirked, “That’s correct Y/n. You have to be by my side all night. Make sure you let me know the color of your dress so I can plan my tie accordingly”

You nodded, your boss’ phone began to ring echoing throughout his large office. “I’ll bring you a swatch tomorrow morning” You spoke softly as you stood to leave the room.

Jaemin only nodded in response before picking up the phone “Mark!! How goes it over in-” His sentence cut off as the door shut behind you.

“What an odd day” you pondered while sifting through the hundreds of emails in your inbox. Mark had taken the liberty to have Haechan set up all Jaemin’s emails to duplicate so you had copies of important things as well. Unfortunately this also meant you got to see all the emails that lovestruck employees sent him without knowing you could see the confessions as well. After deleting what must have been the 20th email love note, you came across a thread that caught your eye. The email was from another female employee, detailing things she and Jaemin had done the previous night. From the sounds of it, you weren’t the only one engaging in an alleged “office romance”. There were quite a few more like that email, all talking about how they loved it when Jaemin did that “thing”. You weren’t sure what the “thing” was, but from the way he had these ladies begging for him via email correspondence you couldn’t help but be curious. It didn’t help that some had described certain acts in such detail, it was only natural that your head drifted away from work causing you to think about Jaemin’s head between your-

The thought was cut short by a loud thud from the elevator. Upon inspection you could see the finance junior who asked you to the gala had dropped a box of their belongings on the floor. The security guard who was with them helped gather their belongings back into the supply box before giving them a reassuring pat on the shoulder. You thought about going over to ask what happened, but a ping from your inbox beat you to it. ‘I WAS WRONGLY FIRED BY NA JAEMIN” was the subject line, there was no body to the email. Just that one subject line that left chills down your spine. You glanced to your boss’ door then back to your computer screen, the email was sent to everyone on the finance floor. It wasn’t long before chatter began amongst your colleagues on the floor. Everyone was curious to know about their former colleague scorned, making incredibly obvious passes by the now barren desk that once housed the junior finance employee. Jaemin seemed unbothered by the office bustle, opting to send you a teams chat asking for you to accompany him out of the office for his suit fitting for the gala. 

-

The interior of the store was full of mannequins decked out in name brand clothing that had your bank account near tears. Though you were only here to keep an eye on Jaemin’s emails and schedule for the day, he kept asking for your input on the suits he chose. The swatch you had at home would have to wait for another day, though he assured you it would be no hassle to have a tie ordered into the office in the correct color. 

“Well? Does this make me seem intimidating enough?” He turned his head over his shoulder to ask you. 

There was simply no denying the fact that Jaemin WORE the clothes, they did not wear him. He looked stunning in everything, so much so that you kept catching your mind slipping off to imagine the things he could do in the dressing room. Your eyes must’ve lingered for too long without speaking, as Jaemin chuffed a laugh. 

“I’m so sorry, yes it looks great!” you smile warmly at him, just as another ping comes through on his work phone. An email from Mark asking about the firing of the finance colleague and why he is now receiving multiple emails from the distressed former employee.

Jaemin cocks his head, one brow raised in question “Something the matter?”

You lock the phone quickly and look up at where he stands on the pedestal for his fitting. “Just Mark asking about an employee who was fired earlier, apparently he is now receiving emails stating that he was wrongfully terminated.” You stare, waiting for a reaction from him that never comes. 

“Ah yes, he was fraternizing with other employees. Can’t have my department become a cesspool now, can I?” His answer is cold as ice, his face revealing no indication of what he is thinking.

You can’t help but laugh at his reference, as if he hadn’t been sleeping with multiple employees from different departments. “What seems to be so funny, Y/n?” 

“Oh, nothing. Just your cesspool reference was funny” You roll your eyes, not expecting him to continue prodding. But he does just that.

“And why, pray tell, is it funny? Is my finance department a joke to you?” His eyes narrow, the shop steward who was pinning the suit even stops momentarily to give you a glance.

You need a moment to collect your thoughts. To try and decide just where you should begin with this. “You know Haechan set up my email so that I get duplicates of all the emails sent to you, right?” 

Jaemin nods thoughtfully, before his eyes widen in realization. “You get all my emails?” 

You bob your head “every single one of them. Mark insisted it was set up that way so you can never say you just missed a meeting invite in your swaths of emails.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes closed in frustration. “Y/n, what have you been seeing?” his foot tapping against the stained wood of the pedestal.

“Just the usual. Multiple emails from Mark about meetings, Renjun sending gala updates, Haechan providing timelines for software updates, Jeno sending memes that he has made instead of marketing campaigns, Jisung sending you meeting schedules with investors for the week, Chenle sending selfies mostly.” You shrug, pleased with your answer. 

“That’s it? Nothing else?” His tone is tense and his eyes are fixed on you, gluing you to the spot on the bench.

“Finance employees sending you updated reports too. Oh! And just the casual love confession, or excruciatingly detailed emails from your lovers” You smirk at him.

“I see.” Jaemin steps down, shooing the shop steward away as he strides towards you, “and tell me, Y/n. Do you read all of those excruciatingly detailed emails?” He leans down slightly, your faces mere inches apart.

You wet your lips, noticing Jaemin’s eyes flick down to your mouth before coming back up to meet your gaze. “Yes.”

He straightens back to his full height, now towering over where you sat. “Interesting indeed” he mutters before turning back to the shop employee to continue with his fitting.

-

The next morning you had a large iced americano sitting on the edge of your desk for your boss, along with the fabric swatch. It was odd, seldom did you beat Jaemin to the office. But today you felt extra jittery, especially after how hot his eyes had felt on you yesterday during his fitting. In fact, it was a shock that you managed to get a few hours of sleep. You had tossed and turned all night, thoughts of Jaemin taking you in the dressing room after your conversation had taken your mind hostage. A few times throughout the night you had awoken in a cold sweat, finally deciding to just get up at 5am instead of trying to get a few more hours of rest. That was how you ended up at your desk at 6:30, a large cup of tea clutched in your hands as you sifted through more meeting invites and emails. 

“Good morning Y/n. You’re awfully early.” Jaemin smiled warmly, a glint of something else shone in his eyes.

You gestured lazily to the cup of coffee on the edge of your desk “That’s for you, the swatch too”

His smile dropped as he stared at the coffee and the swatch “your dress is red?”

“Yes” you nodded before adding “I hope that’s alright”

“That will be just fine, I just so happen to have a tie that I think is the same color.” Jaemin fixed a tight smile before heading into his office and closing the door.

A few hours later a gorgeous intern from accounting came by, stopping at your desk “I have an appointment with Mr. Na” She smiled.

“Sure, just a moment” you returned her smile while getting up to knock on your boss’ door. 

“Send her in.” Jaemin said through the thick oak door before you could even let him know his one o’clock was here. 

-

She left an hour later, hair messier than it was when she arrived and her stockings had noticeable runs down both legs. All you could do was cock a brow as she breezed past with her blush stained cheeks. ‘I’m sure I’ll get an email about that later’ you thought, mentally rolling your eyes. Moments later your boss appeared at his door, fixing his tie nonchalantly. 

“Y/n, take the rest of the day off before the gala tonight. I’ll pick you up at 7 tonight, alright?” His voice was cold and detached, much like it had been at the store.

“Sure, thank you. I will see you then” It was no use putting up a fight. And it was certainly no use to ask him what had been on the tip of your tongue since yesterday. All you wanted was to know why that employee had been fired, and if their claim had any merit.

-

True to his word, Jaemin arrived at 7 on the dot. A swanky black car pulled up outside, the driver meeting you by the door for you to get in. After the door was shut you noticed Jaemin’s eyes fixated on you, suddenly the tight red dress you opted for felt all too revealing. 

He licked his lips slowly before speaking “I get the feeling there’s something you want to ask me, Y/n?”

“Why did you fire that employee that asked me out and gave me that letter?” You asked, Jaemin just stared at you in shock, clearly not expecting that to be the question.

“I- well. He had falsified a few reports so I was going to let him go anyway, but…” He trailed off, turning to look out the window instead of at you. “I thought you were going to ask about the escort from earlier” 

You nearly choked on your own breath “Escort? I thought she was from accounting!”

Jaemin hung his head in defeat “I know, I know. I’m sorry. I was never good at processing things. Instead of thinking though the issue I jumped straight to numbness, and I apologize” 

You simply could not believe your ears, you had figured that’s what was going on. But somehow it still took you by surprise. “Wait, why are you telling me all this?” you couldn’t help but ask.

“When I interviewed you for that sales role, I had such bad thoughts. I decided to tell you I needed an assistant instead. But I had one already. I fired her to give you the role. I just wanted that pretty little ass outside my office. I wanted to rub it in everyone’s faces that I had the hottest secretary. But then you got that letter, and I noticed you starting to get a little too much attention than I liked. And I didn’t expect to like you this much and-” He rambled on before stopping abruptly to look at you. 

Tears welled in your eyes, threatening to fall “two people lost their jobs because of me?” Your voice felt raw.

“Technically only one, the other guy was getting fired for fraud anyway. It was just a coincidence. And I didn’t fire my former secretary, I relocated her to another department. That was poor phrasing on my end” Jaemin reached for your hands, you foolishly let him hold on.

This was an enormous pill to swallow. “So let me get this straight.” You squeezed Jaemin’s hands. “You removed your secretary, hired me because you think I’m hot, got jealous when I was getting attention, forced me to be your date for this gala, and then hired an escort to take out your frustrations instead of just coming clean and talking to me?”

“That’s about it, yeah” Jaemin nodded enthusiastically.

“I quit.” You pulled your hands back to your lap.

Jaemin’s smile fell, his eyes showing the panic he was feeling. “No, no you can’t quit. Who’s going to read my emails to me and copy down all the meeting notes that I don’t feel like doing?”

You shrugged “I’m not sure, Jaemin. I just know it won’t be me.” 

The timing was lovely as the car had pulled up to the venue, the driver was already opening the door to help you out. Jaemin clutched your hand desperately. “Please, Y/n. Please just give me the night to make things right.”

You brushed him off “I will accompany you tonight, but tomorrow morning I will be packing my things. I’m sorry”

Jaemin led the way into the gala, his shoulders slumped in defeat. To anyone else, you were sure he looked angry, but you knew the truth. The first hour of the gala was spent greeting fellow colleagues and investors. You stopped to chat with Renjun, praising him for how incredible the party turned out, to which he agreed with a small smile and flushed cheeks. 

“He’s into the party planner he hired” Jaemin leaned down to whisper in your ear.

The sudden closeness took you by surprise, but you couldn’t help but slightly lean back into his chest. The countless champagne flutes did not help the situation, no matter how much you wanted to not be around Jaemin right now, your other desires had taken over. Jaemin’s hand was placed firmly on your hip, holding you in place. 

“I think it’s time we get you home sweetheart” He spoke softly, looking around to find the nearest exit.

You could only nod, agreeing that it was in fact time to head home. Jaemin kept his grip on your hip as he escorted you through the crowds of people, stopping only once to whisper something to Mark before continuing to the exit. Just as it had been when you arrived, Jaemin’s car and driver were stationed out front. The car door was already open for you two to get in, he helped you into the car and you slumped against him.

-

Sun had streamed in through the large windows of your bedroom bright and early. You cursed yourself for not remembering to shut the curtains before getting into bed last night. Wait, you didn’t have curtains, or the luxurious silk bedding, or a king sized bed. Realization hit you, Jaemin must’ve taken you home. But when you looked over to the other side of the bed you found it still untouched. You were thankfully still in your dress from last night.

After gathering up some courage and taking the Advil that was conveniently left on the nightstand you took off down the hallway of the apartment. On the couch you found your boss, drinking a cup of coffee while leisurely flipping through reports.

“Good morning sleepy girl” He cooed at you.

You squinted back at him “lest you not forget, I quit last night. And you upset me.”

“I recall. I also recall you chirping at me in the car that you wanted me to bring you here and ‘do the things from the emails’ to you” He chuckled, blush crept across your cheeks. 

“I am very sorry. I will head out now.” You started towards the door.

“Y/n. Wait.” Jaemin rose from his place on the sofa, his long strides reaching you quickly. “Now that it’s not a conflict of interest, I was wondering if you would allow me to take you on a date?”

You stared at him, dumbfounded. “A date? Jaemin, you only hired me because you thought I was hot! I’m so pissed off at you! I thought I had merit, I thought I was good at my job!” You were stopped short by Jaemin’s lips on yours.

The kiss seemed to have surprised you both. Both of you stood in shock, just staring at each other. 

“You are” His voice was soft.

“I am what?” Your brows furrowed.

“Good at your job. Mark requested we send you off to another department that needs a manager. I said no, because I need you to keep me organized. I have never made it to so many meetings!” He grinned at you, placing his hands on your shoulders.

“Could I move to a different department to be a manager?” Your head tilted in question.

Jaemin breathed a sigh of relief “Yes, you absolutely can. I can always bring back my old secretary in your place”

“Then I will.” You beamed happily.

“You will what? Move departments?” Jaemin’s hands squeezed your shoulders in anticipation.

“Well yes obviously.” you rolled your eyes. “But also, I’ll let you take me out.”

Jaemin pulled you into another kiss, this one much less abrupt than the last. His lips were soft against yours, and his hands worked their way down your body. Your fingers combed through his hair, stopping occasionally to tug slightly. 

“Oh we have to stop. I still think about your first day when you had to change in my office.” He confessed.

You smirked at him, “That’s alright. I think about it too.”

“I’ll have the driver take you home and I’ll pick you up tonight. Wear something red again. It looks stunning on you.” He kissed you one last time before sending you off.

-

The next week was a do over of your first day, but this time as a manager for partner relations. But instead of taking an Uber, you arrived with the CFO in his personal car. 

“I’ll see you after work sweetheart. Let me know if I need to fire anyone for you” Jaemin winked before placing a kiss on your lips before exiting the elevator onto the finance floor. 

“Ugh, you are so lucky” another employee in the office wined before exiting at the next stop.

The doors closed, leaving you alone in the elevator. The biggest grin plastered across your face as you thought aloud “Yeah, I am pretty lucky, aren’t I?”

[syoddeye]

useless, part three

Part three (and the finale!) of my submission to @glitterypirateduck's O, Captain! Challenge. As a reminder, I rolled a d100 to select three prompts. I finally used my third prompt.

42. The story spans over a period of 10 or more years

14. Opposites attract

66. Price or Reader is auctioned off for a date as part of a fundraiser

cw: one pregnancy mention (Reader does not get pregnant, has never been pregnant)

Read Part One, Part Two. Tag list: @v1x3n @kiranezra

~4.2k words, Price x f!Reader. This is the most self-indulgent shit I've written in awhile. Please enjoy.

It's past midnight when you limp through the front door of your flat, dropping belongings and articles of clothing alike, shedding both the weight of personhood and your eighteen-hour day. You set your keys down on the end of the counter, ignoring the thin folder for the umpteenth time. James will undoubtedly text about it in the morning, his patronizing messages more reliable than any alarm clock. A half-hour commute home, and you didn't even glance at your phone in fear of accidentally seeing another email from his lawyer. Solicitor. Whatever.

Hamhock slinks out from his lair beneath the bed, weaving between your ankles when you drag yourself into the bathroom.

"Hello Hammy," You whisper, eyeing the newer crop of gray hairs near your roots with a weary neutrality. Definitely the fundraiser's fault. Your hair started to change long before this year's planning began, but this is the longest period you've gone without dyeing it. One thing to thank James for. Not only did his departure give you a crystal clear focus, it freed you from his ridiculous expectations. He'd've commented the moment he spotted the wisps of silver, then casually worked something like anti-aging cream into the conversation.

The prick poisoned the well, and now the only man in the world for you currently lies at your feet. How it should've been from the start, really.

After checking the orange menace's automatic feeder, you slip into bed, allow him to assume his nocturnal throne—your armpit—and plug your phone in one-handed. Your eyes glaze over at the sight of notifications, thumb swiping by muscle memory, and set an alarm. With two weeks left until the big day and more than a hundred unsold tickets, you need every moment you can get. You sigh, counting the tasks of the day ahead instead of sheep.

You'll sign the divorce papers tomorrow.

~~

Naomi practically forces the granola bar into your hands. The assistant stage manager and the props lead—the younger woman is the glue to your glue. A newer fixture at the Bramble Theatre, she was you to an extent, maybe a decade ago: fresh-faced, eager, and optimistic.

"I didn't like how you were looking at the wax fruit."

"We should swap the oranges for plums. Or pears."

"We've been through this. The oranges fit the palette, from the paintings to Dotty's–oh, quit pulling my leg."

You grin, then jut your chin at the stack of slips in her hand. "Are those the waivers? Did all the volunteers sign?"

"Yes, I can post headshots today on socials, so that should boost sales."

"Good. That's one fire extinguished," Rubbing your temple, you lean back in your chair. "I feel gross about it, though. I mean, we run shows that are hundreds of years old, but a date auction? Why don't we raise a guillotine out front and sacrifice effigies to raise money?"

Naomi blinks and whips out her phone. "...Okay, one, I'm noting the effigy idea for next year, but two, the auction won the vote, and everyone participating volunteered."

You grimace. "I know, it's just–"

The sudden opening of the door to your shoebox office interrupts. Theodore, business manager, director, and occasional movement coach, bursts in. Everybody's a multi-hyphenate.

"Terrible news!"

Wonderful. A new fire. You squint, chewing, and watch Naomi try to stifle a laugh valiantly. "Whatever could this be about?"

The older man slams his palms onto your desk, his layered pendants tinkling. "I've punched the numbers, including a best scenario, stars aligning–"

"Teddy. Out with it."

"–we're going to be £40,000 short. Even if we sell out, even if we raffle off the company like cattle, we are circling the drain!"

The tired amusement leaves your body, and in its wake sits a five-digit number and the distant idea to schedule a salon appointment.

The annual fundraiser for the theater, your hard-won home, is a dramatic, demanding, and near-disastrous event every year. The theater has continuously operated a hair above the red, but the laundry list of expenses from the last year cannot be ignored. The new light rig, the stage flooring replacement, the curtain repairs—they never stop. Sponsors and grants only go so far.

Originally, you took this job for its laughable but slightly higher pay and because running around like a madwoman between four gigs at a time wasn't as thrilling or charmingly bohemian as it was in your twenties. Your livelihood depends on the playhouse's success. And the economy. And the general public's attitude toward the arts. All wildly variable. It made you resourceful, and already, you were composing a mental list of people to politely bully for pledges promised in years past. You need time and a phone charger.

"Teddy," you set the half-eaten granola bar down. "Go get ready for afternoon rehearsal. Naomi, cover for me today?"

"'Course."

Theodore swipes his spindly fingers over his brow, nodding fervently at your resolve. "If anyone can pull it off, it's you. Do tell if there is anything yours truly can do." With a flourish, the director departs your office, but Naomi lingers.

"You know if it's donations we need…"

You shake your head, immediately knowing what she intends to suggest. "Out of the question."

"But think of her–"

"I'd rather debase myself and resort to dinner theatre."

"I'm just saying–"

"Naomi," You stress. "I am not calling my mother."

She frowns. "Desperate times call for desperate measures. Are you really so proud you wouldn't leverage your family's connections to save the Bramble?"

It makes you pause. As usual, she's right. Irritatingly so. You could take another salary cut, but you'd need to find a flatshare, a humiliating idea. Hammy wouldn't survive it, the sensitive thing. You sigh and dismiss her with a wave.

"Fine I won't rule it out. But I'm going to shake down half the city first."

~~

An hour later, you've managed to secure a percentage. Not too shabby, but far from the goal. You take a break to read James's team's latest, vaguely threatening missives and entertain the idea of withholding your signature until he makes a donation. What's a little extortion in the name of art?

You know it's wrong to delay this ugly process. How close relief is should you simply sign the papers. But it's another failure, another black spot in your life's ledger. Another dream crushed beneath the boot of reality. With a wave of bitterness, you type out a curt reply, ensuring you will sign the papers and ask them to arrange for a courier tomorrow.

Naomi's suggestion takes advantage of your mind's lethargy, testing the strength of your will and stubbornness. The last time you phoned your mother was months ago, on the anniversary of dad's death. The old man took his last bow five years back, and it destroyed the last bridge between you and your formidable mother. In retirement, she still holds court with major political players stateside…and across the pond.

Before you let your loathing catch up, you pull up her contact card and dial. It's after noon in D.C., the middle of the week. You might get lucky and reach her voice–

"Is everything alright? You're not in the hospital, are you?" Her donnish, sharp voice hurtles you through time and space to your teenage years. 

"No," You answer with gritted teeth. A headache waits in the wings. "No, I'm fine, mom."

"Then why are you calling?"

This is why dad handled conversations. You stand, swiftly shutting the door to your office and locking it. "Can't I just call my mom?"

"Of course. Historically, you do not," There's a low murmur of chatter in the background. She's at a luncheon or at the club. "So I assume there is a reason."

Having an ex-ambassador for a mother is a joke. All that practised charm for everyone else in the world, none of it reserved for you. "Okay, yes, there is a reason."

"Thought so. Well, darling, what is it? Is it James? Don't tell me you're pregnant."

You return to your desk and eye the bottle of bourbon on the corner. "No. James and I are divorcing, remember? This is about my work."

There is no acknowledgement of the separation. Instead, your mother pulls the phone away from her mouth, excuses herself from wherever she is, and the background noise dissipates. 

"Your work."

"Yes, the Bramble? Look, we're two weeks out from our big annual fundraiser, and–"

"Oh, you need me to write a check." The clicking of her heels halts abruptly, and if you didn't know any better, she wilts. "Fine. How much do you want?"

Your face heats with a mixture of frustration and embarrassment. "I am not asking for money. If you would stop interrupting me…Ugh, mom, I need help contacting some of your old friends here. If there's anyone you know looking for tax deductions or a pet project to brag about, the Bramble is in a bad spot financially."

In the past, whenever the theatre and, by extension, your chosen profession came up, your mother took the opportunity to lecture. She reminded you of the wasted opportunities she afforded you. She brought up your old schoolmates and their current positions. And most insulting of all, she always, always compared you to a certain soldier. Bracing yourself for her monologuing, you reached for the bottle.

"Why didn't you open with that, darling?"

Your fingers close around empty air, and you nearly pitch out of your seat in surprise. "What?"

"Send me the information. I've been meaning to reconnect with some old friends. When is the fundraiser?"

"In two weeks," You repeat, scrambling to pull up your email on the ancient desktop. "Tickets are–"

"Email it. I'll book my flights today and let you know when I'm getting in."

Your hands hover over the keyboard, and your neck protests the angle it bends to keep your phone lodged between ear and shoulder. "Oh, no, mom, you don't need to come."

"Nonsense. I'll, of course, make my own donation, and as a donor, I ought to see where my money is going."

Christ. For the Bramble, you remind yourself and exhale. "Okay. You do that. Listen, I have to get going…but mom?" It kills you to say it. "Thank you."

"You are very welcome. Oh, this will be so much fun. I haven't visited since before your father. You know, on the topic of reconnecting, I happened get an email from the Prices the other day, and John–"

There it is. You kick into fourth gear, rattling off your exit. "I've really got to run. Thanks again mom, send me your flight info. Love you. Bye!"

You feel like you've run a marathon and dodged a bullet. And yet, as you send the email and file the waivers, your mind snags on your mother's words. On a name. His name. It's not the first time your unhelpful brain's waylaid you with a trip down memory lane. Admittedly, it's happened more since James asked for the divorce. Most nights, if it isn't life's stresses hounding you, it's an endless parade of what-ifs behind your eyelids.

What if you studied economics instead? What if you stayed in America? What if you hadn't gone to that stupid New Year's party? What if you hadn't kissed John? If you didn't get on the train? 

The people in your circle frequently speak about living life without regrets. It's a romantic notion and a highly unrealistic one.

Your phone buzzes—Naomi. You're needed. Pushing the past where it belongs, back on a dark shelf, and head out to put out another fire. 

~~ 

Three days before the fundraiser, your mother lands in London and hosts you at her hotel for dinner. Playing catch-up is a professional sport with a whirlwind of names you barely remember and memories you remember very differently.

You pick at dessert, listening to another story.

"–and he was so insistent that that school of yours was a breeding ground for monsters, and I told him, isn't that what's needed in today's society? People need thick skin in politics and business. You'll be happy to know, though, he bought four tickets to the fundraiser."

You don't remember who you're talking about but smile and nod. It's a tough pill to swallow, your mother's success at rallying old friends with deep pockets. Teddy's practically in love with her despite having never met her, popping his bald head into your office to sing her praises whenever another pledge arrives.

Your response is rote. "That's wonderful, mom. Thank you."

She prattles on for another half hour before you decide it's time to return home to Hamhock and burn the midnight oil on the fundraiser's date auction. You asked the company for fifty-word bios and actors, bless them, struggle to contain their self-praises. When she finally pauses to take a sip of wine, you rise. "I should head home, lots to do–"

Ignoring you outright, her head turns, and she grins. "There you are!"

Following her gaze, your brow lowers in confusion until you clap eyes on a trio headed in your direction in the company of a server. Very briefly, you consider the melodramatics of matricide. You've been set up.

Mr. and Mrs. Price look well for their age, puttering toward your mother. They are greyer and a little shorter, but the warmth is there.

John, however…

The universe is intent on humbling you.

The hair is the first thing you notice. Short, kempt, and annoyingly a dark shade of brown. It's crept southward onto his face in a beard of a choice style. There is comfort in the finer details that clarify as he nears. He hasn't escaped time's passing with a face marked by crow's feet, frown lines, and forehead furrows. Beneath his shirt, there's a slight suggestion of a belly, though, with his thick arms and the narrowing of his waist, he's clearly a wall of muscle.

The worst part is how infuriatingly kind his smile looks. It's the beard. Softens him. Once an arrogant prick, always an arrogant prick.

John rumbles your name in a whisper, reeling you in for a polite peck on the cheek. "You're a sight for sore eyes."

You're years beyond fifteen and twenty-five, but how swiftly the impulse to snark resurfaces is alarming. Maturity tempers you. "You look good, too."

After a few minutes of greetings, the two of you are tasked with heading to the bar to fetch drinks. Wholly unnecessary what with a server, but it's a clear command to let the 'adults' talk for a spell. Nevermind being shy of forty. John's quick to try conversation when the order's in.

"You haven't changed a bit," He observes, leaning against the bar beside you. 

"Now there's something a woman wants to hear after a decade." You huff, casting your eyes across the restaurant, finding it difficult to look at him. The dark blue of his sweater makes his eyes pop.

"Fourteen years, actually," He corrects. "Drinking martinis, actin'…"

You snort. "You're half right. The Martini half."

His elbow gently knocks into yours atop the bar. "Apologies. My mother told me you'd been in My Fair Lady last summer."

That draws your attention. "No. The theater put it on, but I'm the stage manager. I haven't been on stage in ages." Your eyes flicker to the table, then back to him. Heat crawls up your collar. What other information has your mother passed along? Glancing down at your bare ring finger, you turn the conversation. "Not so different from a Captain, I reckon. How's that going?"

John squints a little, and his mouth pulls into a familiar smirk, tugging at old strings in your stomach. "Can't complain."

"Riveting stuff," He chuckles at that, a deep rasping sound, and you find yourself grinning. "Don't suppose that bit of clandestine, secret agent-type shit your mom's talked about?"

"Secret agent?"

"Yeah. Mentioned it in a Christmas card maybe three years ago?" You smile triumphantly into your glass. Seems both your mothers have a penchant for dressing up the truth.

His jaw works a tick, and something heavy passes behind his eyes. "Well, 'm not. Not exactly."

"Let me guess. If you told me, you'd have to kill me?"

He refocuses some, and a short laugh leaves him. "Something like that."

It's all painfully familiar, but it feels different with a little more life under your belt. His mere presence keeps you on your toes, yet you haven't felt this comfortable in months. For all the history and tension, talking to him is easy. A silence passes, the drinks arrive, and you ferry them to the table.

The night passes better than you expected when you first saw the Prices. They express belated condolences over your father, you chat about the fundraiser, and John politely navigates questions about his work. It frightens you when he briefly mentions Piccadilly to know he'd been there in the carnage. Part and parcel of military life, you guess. 

"John, be a gentleman and walk her to the station," His mother chides as the five of you congregate in the hotel lobby.

"He doesn't need to do that," You hastily say. Not again.

"'Course."

There is something dreadfully giddy to how your parents wish you both goodnight.

At least you do not need to take his arm this time. Still, there is no way John isn't thinking about that night. Not when that look of quiet desperation he wore is seared within your memory. It's silly, but you peeked at his hands earlier, and like yours, they're naked.

You break the silence to fish. "How long are you on leave?"

"A week. Got in yesterday."

"Do you normally visit your parents?"

"Often."

Doesn't mean there isn't a woman in his life. 'Often' is not 'always'. 

"Visit anyone else? Friends?"

He chuckles. "Sometimes."

You roll your eyes. "You know, you haven't changed much either. Aside from the beard and smoker's lung. Still a stunning conversationalist."

John smirks down at you. "Picked it up in the army."

Oh, yes. He remembers.

The conversation lulls, and the walk is short. You figure John's keen on a repeat when he wordlessly escorts you to the platform. But today's not a holiday, and the station is reasonably busy. He watches like a hawk, nonetheless, when you check the time.

"Brings back memories," He quietly comments.

Nodding, your thumb rubs where your wedding band used to rest. "Sure does." You respond and meet his gaze.

You studied theater, moved back to London, went to the party, and kissed John. You didn't regret those choices—only one.

The invitation flies out of you as your train emerges from the tunnel.

"Do you want to meet Hamhock?"

~~

"He's…certainly orange."

"Don't rush to spend all your compliments at once," You glare, arms full of Ham, then coo at the cat. "John's jealous because he's going grey in the beard."

"I am not."

"Saw them on the Tube. Can't those from me," You tease and set the cat down, giving your kitchen a quick glance. A silver lining of work eating up your schedule is that you last cleaned two weeks ago, and it's held.

"What're those on your head then?" He gestures with a finger and toes off his shoes. 

"Details of a person ageing gracefully." You play it confidently, but part of you holds a breath.

He hums and sidesteps Hamhock. "Suits you. It's pretty."

Maybe inviting him over is a mistake. The bolt that runs through you from the compliment pokes at something you thought buried. "What a gentleman," You try to inject as much sarcasm as possible, but your voice quivers. "I'll be right back. Sit tight?"

You leave John in the kitchen to retreat to the bathroom to regroup. Come on, you scold yourself over the basin for getting worked up. It's just John. 

And yet, what remains of your confidence perches on a cliffside at the sight of John pointedly staring at the folder of your copies of the divorce papers on the counter. Fantastic.

His small smile is genuinely sympathetic. It's enraging.

"Y'know, I knew you were married…When I didn't see a ring at the hotel, though, I wondered."

Your chest tightens, and you shove the folder into a bookshelf. "Yep. Finalized the divorce two-ish weeks ago."

You're not in the mood to be reminded of your failures.

"Sorry it didn't work out," John murmurs.

"That's life. That's how it works sometimes," You exhale, then force a smile. "Want a drink? Bourbon? Wine?"

He lets you change the subject, and you let him have a glass of whiskey.

You sit on opposite ends of your short couch, Hamhock acting as a gentlemanly barrier. The conversation rekindles itself after a few fingers of liquor, and eventually, John migrates to the floor, idly playing with the cat. You confide in him about your worries about the event and whether the funds raised will be enough, and he listens. There is no condescension, no bulldozing. Not a trace of smugness at all when he makes suggestions. You don't realize how you've slipped into an old, practically ancient formation until he peers back, eyes creasing from laughter. You're fifteen again, and it is useless to deny it – you are regrettably in love with John Price.

"Can I confess something?" He suddenly asks as your cat waddles off with a catnip toy in his mouth.

Your heart lurches. "If it's a crime, I'm a terrible conspirator." 

"No. Nothin' like that, but I lied earlier." He chuckles, craning his neck to look over his shoulder. "My mother didn't tell me about My Fair Lady."

"What do you mean?"

John turns sheepish. "I came an' saw it when I was on leave last summer. Thought I'd surprise you, but I got to the theater and lost my nerve."

Instantly, you pick through scraps of memories from the production. There is no way you would have known he was in attendance, not with how hellishly busy you are. 

"You, Captain John Price, lost your nerve?"

Color blooms high on his cheeks, and he turns on the floor, rubbing his neck. "I knew you're not acting but I didn't know how to mention it without soundin' like a prick." His eyes look soft. Different from how they looked that night in his parent's garden. Steady, unwavering, but soft. "I know I'm not good with words. I seem to have a talent for making you angry. But I really am happy to see you. Didn't think I'd get another chance after how I bungled it all those years ago at the train–"

At your grown ages, the angle of the kiss is inadvisable. The two of you fix it without parting, and his hands cup your face when you're finally standing toe-to-toe. 

He touches your foreheads together when breathing becomes necessary. "Change anything?"

You don't answer. You lead him to your bedroom and exile the cat.

~~

The fundraiser goes off with a predictable amount of hitches. The caterer is an hour late and forgets half the hors d'oeuvres. The bar runs out of red wine early. Two actors from the children's company slap-fight on stage. Nothing you, Naomi, and Teddy can't fix with elbow grease and stage magic. The caterers re-course. Naomi calls in a favor from her bartender girlfriend. And the children forget their quarrel when they're called upon to defeat Captain Hook.

What you are not prepared for is one of the actors calling out sick, leaving you one date short for the auction. You waste an hour trying to convince one of your fellow techies to step in.

Naomi corners you when you stress-eat a comically tiny piece of toast swiped from a tray. 

"You know, if one person is all we need…"

"Your girlfriend won't be mad?"

"Ha-ha, don't get cheeky. C'mon, isn't it time you got back out there?" 

You suppress a smug smile. Naomi has no idea. Nobody does. You've gotten back out there and then some. 

"Did I not tell you I was grossed out by the auction?"

She's relentless. "Are you really so proud you wouldn't debase yourself a little for the Bramble?"

"Absolutely not."

You'd said it with such conviction, so it's a puzzle when you find yourself waiting in the stage wing, makeup hurriedly refreshed. It takes all your courage and grace not to stumble to Teddy's side when he calls your name. He improvises an introduction on the fly, and you nearly laugh when you realize this is the first time you've been on the stage, under a spotlight, in years.

The bidding opens, and you hold your breath, letting it go when a few unfamiliar voices call out numbers. A humbling embarrassment clutches you by the throat. But then a paddle raises more confidently in the front row. The light is bright, but you know whose hand hoists it high.

~~

He collects you at the end of the night as you lock up.

"There's my prize."

You can't stop the grin that splits your face. "It's just a date, John."

"Yeah, doin' things a bit out of order, aren't we?" A glimmer of his younger, puffed-up self shines through, and his hand envelops yours.

As you walk, your elbow digs into his ribs, "What will our mothers say?"

"That a big deal to you?"

"To some people."

"Well, love, you're not 'some people'."

[intothegenshinworld]

Fate’s Destiny ~ Chapter 11 || Four people, one destiny

You somehow, not being able to explain it, had fallen into the Genshin world you know oh-so-well. You were no new player and had explored most of the nooks and crannies of the world. When you first had woken up in Windrise you wondered; it might be a dream, after all, you were behind your screen usually, and now- here? It made no sense, and the world was keen on keeping it that way.

Warnings: Spoilers for main story.

Word count: 2.7k+

Auteurs note: My health is worsening. This chapter has been prewritten and queued in advance because of it. I hope you can enjoy it

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A resounding crash jolts you from your slumber. It’s not a sound you’d expect to hear in the middle of the night, nor is it something you can pass on to your imagination, and so it plunges your mind into a primal fight-or-flight.

Without a second thought, your body jumps up from the sleeping bag, ready to combat the suspecting intruder. When the moment passes, you realize there never was one. Silence fills the night once more until you hear Lumine call your name, gentle concern lingering in her voice. 

You blink your eyes to adjust to the darkness. A few meters ahead of camp, you see branches stacked in a pyramid formation, set ablaze to keep its company safe and warm. Around it, comfortably on the grass, sits Lumine. She faces camp, and although the shadows obscure her expression, her body is visibly relaxed.  

“Are you alright,” Lumine’s voice, a mere whisper, breaks the night's silence. “Did you have a nightmare?”

You look around the area. Nothing seems out of the ordinary. The world is quiet aside from the occasional winds brushing against the ruins and trees. Even the nocturnal animals and insects seemed absent in this moment.

As you remain unsure of what had awoken you, the person next to Lumine causes concern. “Who is that?”

The stranger is facing away from you and towards the fire. He has to turn his upper body to look at you. Once he does, you‘re able to make out his blonde hair and dark clothes. Half of his face remains hidden—an eyepatch, maybe? And the only thing that stands out is his cape full of shimmering stars. 

While an unsuspecting party member isn’t your favorite way of waking up, Lumine’s relaxed composure makes you feel safe. You move to sit upright more comfortably in the sleeping bag.

“I apologize if either of us stirred you.” Lumine turns her head to the stranger, gesturing at him. “We happened to run into each other and we decided to catch up.”

The stranger lightly nods his head in your direction, now turning around to properly face you. “My name is Dainsleif. We have met before.” 

Your first memories in Windrise appear vividly in your mind. The soft zephyr brushing against your cheeks, the crystal butterflies, Dainsleif.

Then, in Mondstadt, another muddled memory. You recall talking with him, but the topic of conversation is no longer clear to you. He appears to be more focused this time. His eyebrows furrow together and his lips are pulled in a thin line, leaving you to guess how he felt at that moment. 

Another memory breaks free. You remember the cape on his shoulders, and trying to dip your hands into the fabric, wanting to break the stars free. You recall how safe it made you feel when the world started to turn dark, unlike the night, and more like nothingness.

Dainsleif turns his head away from you. With his new position, you only see the back of his head and the black side of his cape. Your mind leaps from side to side, making sense out of nothing and confusing the things that once made sense. Up is down, down is up, under is right, up is wrong. 

You furrow your eyebrows. 

“Who?”

Lumine turns her head to the male next to her. She lifts her shoulders before they fall again. The night hides her face but you notice the change in her expression. She normally seems so neutral, calm, and put-together—but now her eyes seem to scream at you.

You hear the male, Dainsleif–why is that name so familiar—whisper something before Lumine replies in the same hushed manner. Then, the stranger stands up. Without a goodbye, the mysterious man walks away. The further he goes, the more he blends in with the darkness of the night. 

You look at Lumine.

Her voice is gentle as ever, “Try to get some more sleep,” but her eyes scream louder and louder. Something is telling you to run. “I’ll protect you throughout the night,” she says.

You move your eyes towards the darkness once more. 

What had awoken you again?

You decided to listen to Lumine. 

Peacefully, you let your world succumb to the same darkness that swallowed you whole so many times before. The distant crackling of the fire lulls you to sleep and casts a protective warmth over you, though, it might have been Lumine who made you feel this safe—even with the increasing darkness.

Sunlight cuts through the white clouds in the blue sky and paints the ground with warm hues. Yesterday, the start of your journey to Mondstadt started with your departure from Liyue’s main city. You had set out towards Guili Plains, but with your current pace, and the fact you’d been avoiding the main roads, it’d take a few more days before your arrival. 

Right now, you are making the final preparations for your second day on the roads. Up till now you hadn’t encountered anything noteworthy. Hilllichurl camps seemed sparse, there were little to none adventurers present in the wilderness, and the animals seemed more absent-minded—not bothering to run when Lumine had been hunting for dinner.

Perhaps it was a stroke of good luck after misfortune. Perhaps it was the calm before the storm.

You weren’t going to wait to find out which of the two it’d be.

“Good morning!” Paimon greets you with a warm smile, only to cross her arms right after. “Wait a minute, Paimon thinks you look tired. Did you get any sleep?” 

She accusingly points at you, which makes you laugh in the process. “Really? I slept like a rock. It’s as if I caught up to all those restless nights from before, I’m feeling better than ever.”

Paimon hums, not attempting to argue back. You sling your bag over your shoulders as you stand up. Without a mirror it’s hard to check your appearance, however, you don’t doubt that the little pixie began to see what you’ve been seeing the past few weeks. Even at this very moment when you stretch out your bare hands, you seem to fade away. 

You pull your cloak over your head, turning to look at the pixie. “Have you seen Lumine yet?” 

She makes a stressed sound. “She went out to check the surroundings, to make sure everything is safe for Paimon and you, but… she hasn’t returned yet.” 

The little pixie turns her head towards the treeline, whispering below her breath how it shouldn’t take much longer, no doubt a bit worried about Lumine’s delay.

“Oh, Paimon forgot to ask.” She turns her body back to you, “Did you end up reading the book that Paimon and Lumine bought for you in Liyue?”

The bag begins to feel heavier at the mention of the book. Your hand instinctively moves over, and when you graze over the fabric, you feel the item within. When you fish it out, a heavy book yells out the contents of the story through a title. 

‘The Divine Creator’s Demise & the End of Teyvat’

Paimon’s smile falls into an agonized frown, her eyes casted onto the cover. The picture appears to represent the Creator, you, with a star-hilted sword in the back. It gives you an unsettling feeling.

You are quick to force it back into the bag, safe and out of view. “I don’t think I’ve read it yet. It’s been quite hectic, even when it was just me and the gnosis in the inn.”

“Paimon understands. When you first asked for a book, Paimon and Lumine were surprised to only find such a dark one. They should make happier stories for The Creator, y’know!”

You try to recall the moment when you asked for a book. However, nothing comes to mind.

You get ready to defend your past actions but you are interrupted by a familiar voice calling out both your and Paimon’s name. From the treeline, Lumine appears with a stranger by her side. When the two stop in front of you, Paimon puts her arms on her hips. The pixie is quick to recognize the man, calling him by his name, to which he responds with a curt greeting. When Paimon doesn’t further react to it, you realize that they must be well acquainted. 

Your eyes inspect the stranger whom Paimon called ‘Dainsleif’. 

His outfit consists of a black jacket with blue details, a grey vest, and black pants. He seems to be wearing black armored gloves and boots, but you’re not too sure about that since the right side of his outfit was laced with a blue veiny pattern. And while his outfit already made him an easily recognizable figure, his cape seemed to catch all your attention. The stranger’s black cape had a beautiful starry, space-patterned interior that seemed to reflect the night sky, shimmering and dancing behind him. 

Something like that, you’re bound to remember. The way the small stars shimmer and fade, even with the daylight blinding them, has you mesmerized. After a small moment you look over at Lumine for guidance.

“This is Dainsleif,” when Lumine mentions his name, the male offers another nod in your direction. “He felt your aura. That’s how we encountered each other. He offered to join us while we head towards Mondstadt, but only if you’re okay with it.”

An uncanny sense of familiarity wafts over you. “Join us?” 

Paimon floats closer and clings to your arm. “Dainsleif might not seem approachable at first, but Paimon knows we can trust him. After all, he helped us with finding the Adepti.” she quickly adds to it, “Plus, he knows a looot of things. He might be helpful to you as well!”

You take another look at him. He appears a bit stiff, but not in a threatening way. He genuinely seems to have no idea what to say or do. An understandable thing, considering you were The Creator. “I’m pleased to finally make your acquaintance in this world.” 

“As am I,” you reply. You’re surprised at how easy the words fall out of your mouth. While you’re not thrilled to have a stranger join you on your journeys, you put your trust in Lumine and Paimon’s judgment. “So we’re all going to Mondstadt together?”

Lumine puts one of her hands on her hip while shifting her weight onto one foot. “With the help of Dainsleif, we could once again use the main roads. If you’re exposed to people who are unable to sense your aura we might land in a troubling situation, but considering how slow our current journey has been, I’m willing to take a chance.”

“Paimon thinks it’s a great idea. We can travel on the road during the day, and set camp further away!” The pixie exclaims her idea with pride. 

You think about the proposition. The gnosis concealed by your cloak is no longer a cause for worry. Ever since you set out towards Mondstadt, it stopped glowing. While its lack of power caused concern, you no longer needed to worry about someone seeing the light it usually radiated. 

Furthermore, on multiple occasions, your cloak had proven sufficient capability of hiding your face. With Dainsleif traveling alongside you, your group had grown big enough for everyone to feel confident with your current camouflage. Unless another aura-sensitive person showed up, you’d go unnoticed.

You can’t help the way your lips curl upwards with excitement. “Sounds like a plan.”

Paimon cheers, floating a little higher as she kicks her feet in the air. While both Lumine and Dainsleif remained neutral, you sensed something different from the latter. He kept looking around him as if he was busy with something else and absent from the conversation. 

You’ve only known him for a few minutes, so you’re unsure if this is another part of his ‘not approachable’ appearance. Thus, you decide to not comment on it. 

When his eyes land on yours, you notice the star-shaped pupil. 

It reminds you of Kaeya.

Paimon’s snores during her evening nap are enough to keep you distracted from your book. 

When you finally decide to stand up for a fresh breath of air outside of camp, you’re met with the sight of Dainsleif well on his way to start a fire. He sits on a fallen tree trunk, having found the perfect spot for everyone to sit once Lumine returns with dinner. 

While sitting, he throws another log onto the pyramid of already burning ones, carefully nurturing the fire until it crackles loudly and has enough fuel to last the entire night. 

He is clearly a step ahead of you and Paimon. The latter had fallen asleep once you finished setting camp with her, and then yourself, gazing in stupor at the new companion with a book in hand.

For a moment longer, you observe his actions. 

His cape flutters behind him onto the grass, the stars within fluttering with each movement he makes. For the first time, he averts his attention from the fire. You instinctively follow his gaze. 

Dainsleif’s blue eyes turn from the treelines, towards the open field with the makeshift camp, until they land on you. Eye to eye, you stand still in your place until you decide to give him a wave. He hesitates but ultimately sends an equally awkward wave back into your direction. 

While the interaction could’ve gone better, it’d be even more embarrassing if you were to turn back to camp, so you approach him.

“Can I sit next to you? Paimon fell asleep after we finished making camp and she snores too loud for me to read.” You lift the item in your hand as you approach him, the cover shining brightly; ‘The Divine Creator: world walker’.

"An interesting title. I did not expect that ‘The Creator’ would read stories about themselves, much less any praising ones." His tone remains the same but his words seem to silently tease you, acting as if he’d known you for a longer time. You smile, sitting yourself next to him at a comfortable distance. You’re close enough for it to seem friendly but far enough for it not to be awkward. 

"It's a study read. I can't sit idle while everyone is working hard to regain my memories. And who knows? I might look like a self-centered god but maybe the book will have answers," you respond.

His eyes stay focused on you. "What makes you confident that the contents are all factual and not made up?" 

When he sees you raise an eyebrow and open your mouth to defend yourself, he adds, "Here is another question. How can you be certain that you are, in fact, 'The Creator' without any memories to support it? Have you ever entertained the idea that ‘The Creator’, as a concept, never existed prior to your arrival?”

Despite the outlandish question, you find yourself trying to answer his questions. After all, your lack of memories have been raising doubts. A troubled sigh leaves your lips when you realize that they have from the moment you entered Mondstadt, up till this very moment. And while he was right on the fact that you’d never be able to confirm anything without your memories, it’d be absurd to doubt the many people who do have memories of you, right?

The fire in front of you dances as thin strands of smoke twirl around. Above the horizon, the sunset was slowly merging from bright colors into a solid dark blue. You’d lose the light to read fast, but you feel like you’ll get more answers from Dainsleif than anywhere else. And thus, you entertain his thoughts.

"If the creator didn't exist before my arrival, it's another thing I won't be able to confirm without my memories. Regardless of what is and what is not true, I have to continue forward—trying to find my memories as I do." You look at Dainsleif, resolve filling your mind as you grow more confident about your past choices. "I will go to Mondstadt, and I will find out the truth. Furthermore, I’ll accept that truth as it is, with or without me being ‘The Creator’."

Dainsleif's lips curl upward for a split second. The moment is so fleeting that you doubt it ever happened at all. You do notice how his shoulder relaxes. Dainsleif lets out a breath that feels like a burden he'd been carrying for a while. Then he turns to the fire once more, poking the stick in his hands against the charred ones. 

He speaks to you, "Then it'll be my pleasure to accompany you once more, so-called creator of ours."

If you liked this chapter and think I deserve a comment, please leave one behind! I appreciate it a lot and it'll make me more motivated to write in the future ♡

© intothegenshinworld. Do not copy, repost, translate or take heavy inspiration from my content. Thanks for reading.

[itsvelyria]

"types of date the f1 drivers would love"

Charles Leclerc

Exercise Dates: Charles has a newfound love for workouts, he realises as he watches you expertly straighten your arms — the ones currently holding onto the weight bar like a pro. You had convinced him to join you in a morning yoga class, claiming it did wonders for mental health. Like the stupid in-love fool he is, he had agreed, on the condition that you would join him in a gym session. In his head, you were completely taken by his impressive show of strength in a new environment. That was not the case. And to make matters worse, the bicep curls you two had did earlier had resulted in a little, minor, unnoticeable tingle in the back of his spine that sent blood rushing to the bottom half of his body.

 

Carlos Sainz

Nature Dates: Mountains were for hiking and running and the occasional stargazing session when he was in the mood for it. What he was unaware of, was their ability to host camping sessions. But you did. And you had asked him with unmistakable joy in your twinkling eyes. So now here he was, sitting on a camping chair that you had set up. In fact, everything was set up by you — the chairs, tent, fire. You had even brought metal sticks specifically for roasting marshmallows, which was what the pair of you were doing now. He watched as you purposefully burned your marshmallow, fanning out the flames that had engulfed the treat. It was quiet in the background and unlike in the city, he found himself fully focused on you.

 

Daniel Ricciardo

Driving Dates: He thought you were mad when you brought up a road trip. But he went along, thinking that a little road trip through Australia couldn’t be that extreme. He was so wrong. First, because it wasn’t through Australia and second, because he had forgotten you were the one planning. So now here he was, listening to your off-tune rendition of Coast by Hailee Steinfeld as he drives through what he is 60% sure is Wanaka in bloody New Zealand. The weather could not be more perfect, with amber coloured leaves decorating the trees and ground and the morning sun still shining through the mountains. You offer a chip to him, holding the delicate thing out between your fingers. He takes it without a second thought. In his opinion, being with you made the best dates.

George Russell

Educational Experiences: It was supposed to be a public conference about dinosaurs at the Natural History Museum. And you had plans to go alone, take some time to yourself, enjoy the strange bout of nice weather London has been bestowed. George was the one who had invited himself and waited by the door. And how were you to say no, while the man was dressed like an academic, even going the extra mile of wearing glasses. So you spent a quiet, calming few hours listening intently to a few speakers then touring the museum with your hand tucked into his. It was a nice feeling, sharing your intellectual interests with him and having him actually pay attention unlike some other ex-boyfriends you've had. Maybe you would invite him on a few more dates like these from now on.

Lando Norris

Adventurous Outings: He had brought you because it was what he did as a child and you two were on a trip to visit his parents and hometown so it only made sense. Then he saw you having the time of your life, racing down straights and winding round corners. Your cheeks were flushed and your hair matted but you had clutched to his arms and asked if you could do another round. Now, it was his personal mission to bring you go-karting in as many tracks as possible. It also helps that he actually (secretly) likes losing to you, because you spend the rest of the day with the biggest grin on your face and nothing beats seeing you like that. He also likes the little kisses you give to comfort his "bruised ego", but he will deny it till the world ends.

 

Lewis Hamilton

Group Socializing: He loved this. He thinks he can die happy like this. Okay, maybe not. But this would definitely be one of the scenes that would flit through his mind while he was dying. The immense rush of serotonin that fills his brains and muscles when he sees you fluttering around the room should be studied. His eyes never leave your form, clad in a simple cream dress, the perfect contrast to the glow of your skin. You pour bubbly champagne for his friends and have little interactions with the kids scattered around the room which sends them giggling. The adults are enthralled by you too, countless eyes lingering on your form as you leave their small groups. He can’t blame them – being the most shameless one ever. But even so, he’s the only one who can wrap his arms around your tiny waist, pulling you into his chest, the beam on your lips the brightest thing he’s seen all day.

 

Max Verstappen

Romantic Retreats: Being away from his simulator for this long felt a little weird. He acknowledged the tingly feeling in the back of his spine every morning when he woke up in the largest bed he had ever seen, looking out onto the turquoise ocean. The sea breeze that greeted him this morning was cool, and his robe hung alone beside the bathroom door. The other was wrapped around the figure gazing out onto said sea out on the exposed balcony. Someone has been by the private island with breakfast, he notes, smelling the spread of breakfast foods from the adjoining dining room. He would join you soon, thick white robe around his shoulders and you between his arms, but until then, he lets the tingly feeling settle and just enjoys the view.

[fioreofthemarch]

repast

Fandom: The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom Pairing: Link/Zelda Words: 880 [✨read the oneshot's two companion pieces: yearnings and kin]

The first thing Link began to wonder about the Light Dragon – once his tears for her ran dry and his grief made room for a growing curiosity – was whether she ever got hungry.

In her previous life, she’d had a utilitarian relationship with food. Link had cooked all manner of dishes for her, and each one she would eat in a straight-forward, disciplined manner, dutifully setting about tidying up once she was done. If he asked what her favourite meal was, she’d say, ‘All of them!’

Now, it was possible that dragons didn’t need to eat. Immortality, its terribleness aside, probably had benefits like that. The question was, would they want to?

Link hadn’t paid the Light Dragon much mind during his travels. Dragons seemed to be ten a rupee these days, arising out of chasms, swimming over villages, winding through canyons and so on. Now that he had learned who the Light Dragon really was – telling himself he’d known for a long time to muffle the anguished guilt he felt at not having known right away – he had begun to track her movements. Occasionally, she would break her kingdom-spanning flight path to spend a few hours circling the skyward Temple of Time. It was there that he waited for her now.

“Zelda, I’ve come to make your favourite,” he called up to the Light Dragon from the roof of the temple, unsure if she’d heard. Undeterred, he set up a cookpot and began, sauteeing a dozen apples in a hefty amount of goat butter – this being the only meal Zelda had ever requested of him, maybe two winters ago on a freezing evening camped somewhere in Hebra. She’d said if she had one wish, it’d be a hot buttered apple, and with pride Link had made that wish come true.

At first, the Light Dragon didn’t seem to notice him. He considered hitting her with an apple-fused arrow to get her attention, but was worried he’d discover, in retaliation, that dragons had a taste for humans. Over the course of an hour however, she circled lower and lower towards the temple and the cookpot, until she gently touched down, her body wound around the outer perimeter of the roof. She rested her head by the cookpot, a huge bright eye fixed directly on Link. He froze, unsure if she was really in there, and also what the proper etiquette would be when dining with a dragon. As if in answer, she sniffed at the pot of apples. Taking one in hand, Link offered it slowly out to her; she sniffed it again and opened her mouth just enough for him to push the apple between her teeth. In astonishment Link watched as the otherworldly creature munched carefully on the apple and opened her toothy jaws for a second.

Half a dozen more he fed her this way and each one she ate faster, opening her mouth wider to demand more. By now the supply of savoury-sweet apples was running low. “I’ve only got a couple left, Zelda, but I can come back—”

Chomp! The Light Dragon snapped its jaws down around the cook pot, sending apples flying in all directions. Link reached up and grabbed the edge of the pot, trying to yank it free. “Stop! You can’t eat this! Let go!”

Then he was falling, relinquished from the Light Dragon’s teeth when she roared, and he landed on the gravel just before the cookpot landed on him. He cried out in pain, and in response the Light Dragon recoiled, drawing up into herself, the roof shingles crunching under her claws. 

Dusting himself off, Link set about collecting the apples, finding them flung across the roof and soiled with gravel. With a sigh, he prepared to throw them into the cooking fire when, at his side, something soft nudged his arm. The Light Dragon, or Zelda, or whatever mix of the two she was, tapped him with the very tip of her snout, having crept back towards him. In Link’s hand was the final apple, mostly intact. The Light Dragon nudged him again, making a low rumbling noise, barely more than a whine. 

“It’s okay, apology accepted,” Link said. “Glad you still like my cooking, old girl.”

Then, the idea coming upon him with a laugh, Link threw the apple as high as he could. There was a tornado of rushing air and dust as the Light Dragon soared upwards, unwrapping herself from temple and launching herself in pursuit of the apple, which she caught with a swift snap of her jaws. Her prize seized, she descended again to fly past Link, so fast he could barely touch her, before rising into the sky and out of reach. Her way of saying thank you, he supposed. 

Later on, returning to the surface and Demon King-shaped task at hand, Link would horde apples by the dozen and spend even his last rupee on goat butter whenever he stopped by a town. From then, he knew that if his grief struck stronger than he could handle, he could return to the Temple of Time with as many apples as he could carry, and dine with Zelda again - just like they once had, in times gone by. 

[wingedcat13]

Synovus: Siren Call (2)

[Synoverse? In the year of our lord 2023? It's more likely than you think! This one is in third person, set after Villains Never Retire. No idea what I’m talking about? Check out the first of the Synovus works here! I've still yet to do it as of posting, but both episodes of Siren Call will be on Ao3 here. Happy reading!]

A week after first arriving at her parents’ house, Minerva made the journey back to her own.

It wasn’t terribly far - a half-hour drive with no traffic, maybe - from where her parents now lived, still placed near to the coast. It wasn’t actually a ‘house’ either, more of a condo built in a line to save costs. It would’ve been cheaper to live further inland, but…

She’d had enough of that.

Besides, the place wasn’t actually hers. When she’d divorced Albion and come back to the coast, she’d also quit her job. With no contacts, no friends, and no savings that weren’t tied up in litigation, she would’ve had nowhere to go in her civilian identity. She also wasn’t sure if she was going to have to deal with a super-powered ex husband knocking at all hours, which was something most renters disapproved of, as a rule.

But where Minerva had no one, Athena had a lifeline. When she and Legionnaire had done volunteer work in the past, she’d always felt it was just part of her duty. An obligation that came with having superpowers. Sometimes you put the costume on to hit something, and sometimes you put the costume on to build something. Since neither of them had been dependent on their hero identity 24/7, they’d always declined any offers of compensation.

But that didn’t mean they’d been forgotten. Shepherd Flight was a volunteer group who specialized in organizing super powered individuals for rescue and relief operations - they mostly focused on the initial crisis, but weren’t afraid of working to help rebuild things too. Minerva had gone through floodwaters and hurricanes under their direction, and also used her strength to help hold up beams for building shelters. One of her favorite memories was helping plant a garden in a refugee camp.

Shepherd Flight was also known for its discretion. Several capes worked exclusively for them, staying out of hero or villain business in the traditional sense. Some of them maintained a separation between the mask and the civilian, but others didn’t.

So Minerva had gone to them, intending to ask if she could rest on a couch in their headquarters or something while she figured out her next move. Instead, a man named ‘Sun Dog’ had checked their records, asked her a few questions, and then handed her the keys to an address. Apparently, Shepherd Flight also aided ‘capes in distress.’

Minerva had scowled, but couldn’t really argue the point.

She’d looked into it since - the space they’d given her was most frequently used for helping move displaced persons who needed to travel, or temporary housing for other members of Shepherd Flight who needed a place unaffiliated with any identity. One of the questions she’d been asked was how she felt about potentially having a house full of strange guests on little-to-no notice. Minerva had grown up dealing with the Pacific Northwest’s forest fires, and had told Sun Dog she knew exactly how fast they could go. If refugees needed a place to stay, she’d gladly vacate.

So far, that hadn’t happened, though Sun Dog had also told her that someone would stop by occasionally with groceries, to keep the place stocked. And to check in on her.

She probably should’ve told them she was fine when she was whisked off to a supervillain’s private island. She hadn’t.

So she wasn’t surprised, per se, to open the door and see a stranger in the kitchen. Startled, perhaps. But neither of them attacked each other, so that was a good start.

“Uhm.” Said the person in the kitchen, holding a spoon awkwardly poised between their mouth and a pudding cup.

“Wrong door.” Minerva said automatically, holding the keys that had unlocked the front door and the guard mechanism.

“Is it?” The stranger asked hesitantly.

Minerva sighed, “No. I… lived here for a bit. As a… guest.”

“Oh!” The stranger lit up with a smile - and a touch of phantom flame that Minerva watched cautiously. “You must be the one who went missing! Yeah, they told me you might come back - hey, I’m Wi-Fire, by the way.”

They moved forward to offer a hand, slowing their approach when Minerva instinctively leaned away. Still, it wasn’t like she needed both hands to hold her bag, and once upon a time she’d been… better, if not exactly ‘good’ at this. So she took the offered hand, clasping it rather than shaking.

“Athena.” She returned, the introduction automatic. Instead of giving herself time to think about whether that was the right name to give, she forced herself onwards, remembering there were other details she was supposed to give on greeting. “She/Her.”

Wi-Fire’s grin broadened, and they bounced a little in place. “They/them!” They returned, even more cheerfully than before. “It’s the third bedroom that’s yours, right? I haven’t touched it, since he said you might come back, but I’ve only been here for about a week. That reminds me - have you called him yet? Sun Dog? He’s super worried about you, pun unintended.”

Minerva was, abruptly, reminded of Alexandria. “… No, I haven’t called him yet. I was just here to-“

She paused. What was she here to do? Spend a few hours staring at a wall, unobserved? Get the rest of her things and go? It wasn’t exactly much, just a few extra changes of clothes, a few books. She did want to make sure the space she’d used was clean, but given how little time she’d spent here, that shouldn’t take more than an hour. Two, if she stopped to do laundry.

Minerva had paused for too long. Wi-Fire just nodded, sympathetic. “Yeah, I feel that. I’m up in the attic - the other rooms are still empty, there’s nothing wrong with them or anything, I just.” They cut off, simply ending the sentence, as though a signal had been lost between one word and the next. They shrugged.

“Yeah.” Minerva echoed, thinking of how she’d chosen the room with the best view of the ocean, even if it was just a sliver.

Wi-Fire winces, “Crap. Sorry. Forgot we’re not supposed to really, like. Fraternize. I didn’t see anything?” Their last sentence is hopeful, as though an offering they want Minerva to take.

“It’s fine.” She assures them, readjusting her grip on her bag. “If you’ve seen me, you can pass on to Sun Dog that I’m fine, right?”

For a heartbeat, she thinks she’s pulled it off, and she’ll be able to just get her things and leave. But Wi-Fire just laughs.

“I mean, sure - but you’ll have to scram if you wanna avoid him.” They scrape at the bottom of the pudding cup. “He’ll be here in like. Twenty minutes?”

—-

Minerva is not done packing in twenty minutes. Actually, she’s not done in fifteen, which is when Sun Dog actually arrives. She can hear him greeting Wi-Fire from where she’s working upstairs, meticulously folding towels to be stored in the bathroom before she leaves.

Minerva snaps the final towel free of wrinkles, places it on the pile, and goes to meet him. Better she doesn’t get cornered.

Sun Dog and Wi-Fire aren’t talking, when Minerva arrives. No, that makes it sound like they’re in a stand off, and really, it’s more that they don’t need to be. Minerva catches the end of a fistbump-into-a-shoulder check, and an exchange of smiles, before Sun Dog’s eyes flick up and see her on the stairs.

“Ah!” In civilian clothing, Sun Dog looks like a Bay Area hobbyist come north. His reaction to seeing her is surprise, but also something positive. Joy? Excitement? Delight? “M-“

“Athena!” Wi-Fire cuts in, overriding Sun Dog with their own exclamation, and avoiding accidentally learning Minerva’s real name. Not that it matters, anymore.

Minerva’s spine could be used as a flagpole. “Sun Dog.” She replies, voice cool, as though their excitement at seeing her had been an embarrassment rather than an open welcome. It isn’t on purpose. “Wi-Fire.”

She doesn’t apologize for interrupting, or claim she didn’t mean to, because there’d be no point. Instead, Minerva meets Sun Dog’s gaze, “I’m cleaning up after myself, then I’ll be out of your way.”

“You don’t have to do that-“ Sun Dog starts to assure her, then backtracks. Minerva must have looked offended. “- but we’re grateful that you’d take the time.”

He glances at Wi-Fire, who gets the hint. They give Minerva a double thumbs-up, and another near maniacal grin, and then scamper off. Minerva is distracted, briefly, by the mental image of a young Synovus, gifted with fire instead of shadows.

Terrifying.

Still, thinking of the one problem won’t rid her of the other. Minerva descends the rest of the stairs to stand even with Sun Dog, her arms folded. Her expression must’ve shown something (or maybe Sun Dog just gauged the depths of the bags under her eyes) because instead of saying anything else, Sun Dog just tilts his head towards the door.

“How about a walk?”

—-

With the ocean not far, there was plenty of beach to walk along. It was too late in the season to hope for much sun, but again, it didn’t really bother Minerva. And, with both of them in nondescript windbreakers, they seemed no more suspicious than anyone else ever did.

She wished she didn’t feel like she needed to worry about being suspicious.

They walked in silence for a while, just the sound of sand crunching beneath boots, and the ever present roar of the ocean’s movements. The wind blew in from off the coast, sharp and cold. It whipped her hair around her face, but she mostly ignored it.

Eventually, Sun Dog broke the silence. “Did you know I didn’t actually intend to go by ‘Sun Dog’?”

Minerva glanced around, as though the wind and general absence of other people wasn’t enough to ensure they weren’t overheard. Sun Dog waited.

“Then why did you?”

“Media.” He answered simply. “I wanted to name myself Parhelion. Its the… let’s call it scientific word for a Sun Dog phenomena. They thought one had a better ring to it.”

“So you’re a scientist.” Minerva kicked lightly at the sand on her next step.

“Amateur, sure. But I don’t mind admitting that the name scared the hell out of me at first.”

Minerva hesitated, then nodded. “Yes. I can understand why.”

Sun Dog. In a world still recovering from the sudden disappearance of Sunhallow, any sun imagery was suddenly circumspect. It could be viewed in a hundred different lights, none of them favorable.

“I almost gave up being a hero entirely.” Sun Dog confided. “I was too scared that one day someone would show up, and tell me I was encroaching on their brand.”

Humor, but not enough to hide that neither of them speak his name. Minerva knows he’s dead - she’s seen the grave, spoken to his killer. But there is the thought that lingers. Just in case.

“Why didn’t you?” Minerva asked, staring forward at the tree line.

“Letters. One in particular, that told me he’d never be dead so long as we let him hold that much power over something so ubiquitous as the sun. They said they knew how much it must cost me, but that the world needed people like me to rebuild it, to heal over the scars.”

“And was that one from the Dalai Lama or the President.” Her voice wasn’t bitter so much as it was… dry. Humor. She’s learning how to use it again.

Sun Dog squinted into the wind. “Could’ve been either, I suppose. It was signed, but with a moniker. Eclipse.”

He glanced at her, shrugged. “I’ve never known anyone to go by that name.”

Minerva was silent for a step. Two. Then, “No. Neither have I.”

—-

They wind up stopping at a picnic table tucked just under the tree line, out of the worst of the wind. It’s one of those weather-worn gray contraptions, the kind someone placed years ago and forgot, leaving it for hikers or curious children.

They’ve talked about a few things, here and there. Sun Dog keeps offering small bits of himself, trying to draw Minerva out again, and slowly, she becomes part of the conversation. Childhood pets. Obnoxious commercial jingles that stick even after the company and product are long gone. Nothing pressing. Nothing political.

But after they’d spent a few minutes in a comfortable silence, a natural lull in the conversation, Sun Dog has pulled a deck of cards out of his pocket.

“Hope you’re not looking for poker.” Minerva said with barely a glance. “I don’t have anything to bet.”

Sun Dog laughed, “These aren’t those kind of cards. But if you’re willing, I’d like to do a reading for you. Tarot.”

“Wait.” Minerva raised her brows, leaning back slightly. “You don’t actually believe in those, do you?”

She realized, approximately half a second too late to stop herself, how offensive that likely sounded. Luckily, Sun Dog laughed again.

“You could use a tank as a baseball bat.” He said, corners of his eyes crinkled in a smile. “And have dealt with clairvoyants, shape-shifters, literal magic users - but ‘some cards’ is where you draw the line?”

Minerva ducked her head, submitting to the teasing. “Alright, you have a point. I don’t really know how they work, though.” “You don’t need to.” Sun Dog assured her. “You just need to shuffle and draw the cards. Three of them, face down, left to right. We’ll go over what they mean one by one.”

She felt, suddenly, unaccountably nervous. She managed a murmured thanks as Sun Dog handed her the deck, no longer stiff from newness, but not quite well-worn either. For a moment, she simply spread the cards in her hands, sliding them with her thumb, and studying the backs. They were larger than she remembered most playing cards being. She hoped she remembered how to shuffle correctly.

A few cuts of the deck, and a reassurance from Sun Dog that it was alright to bend them, and Minerva fanned the cards apart, couching them back together into a bridge. Another few cuts, another bridge. And the third time, to keep them balanced.

“Three off the top?” She asked. Sun Dog shrugged, “If that’s what speaks to you.” He laughed again at Minerva’s displeased expression, but nodded encouragingly. “Go on. Three cards, face down. That’s all.”

Minerva sighed. She pulled the card from the top, one from the bottom, and - fanning the cards again - slipped one from the middle at random, laying them each face down on the table in front of her.

“Good.” Sun Dog said encouragingly, accepting the rest of the deck back. “So, this is something of a ‘past, present, future’ spread. Go ahead and flip the first card.”

Minerva rolled her eyes, and moved to place her hand on it - then paused. This trepidation was unlike her. She had no reason to be nervous, because this was a pre-generated deck of cards. It held no personalized information, and could not reveal anything about her of substance, because it was a randomized card. 

That argument wasn’t holding up the way it normally would’ve. Some part of her resolve crumbled.

Well. She reasoned, If it’s in the past, I’ve already survived it once. I can do it again.

That seemed to do the trick. She flipped the card over, and was greeted with the image of someone in what she placed as quintessential peasant’s garb… carrying a bundle of sticks? The roman numeral for ten was placed above it, and the individual’s face couldn’t be seen, buried in the bundle they were carrying as they walked away from the viewer.

“The ten of wands.” Sun Dog identified. “Wands are associated with fire. They tend to be about passion, strengths, and willpower. The ten of wands in particular is a representation of burden and responsibility. It is good to be depended on - but not to be overworked.”

Minerva shifted, but said nothing. Sun Dog gave her a moment, then indicated the next card. “The next one, then?”

This one took little effort to turn - whether it was out of a desire to get it over with or simply because she’d shaken off whatever feeling she’d had earlier, Minerva didn’t know. This time, the card was upside down, and she moved to straighten it.

“No -” Sun Dog stopped her, “I mean, if you want to flip it so you can look at it, you can, but drawing them upside down actually means something. ‘Reversed’ cards invert or change the meaning.”

Minerva pursed her lips, flipping the card briefly to get a better look at it. A figure visible only from the waist up, in what appeared to be mail and plate armor. A star spangled canopy offered protection from the yellow sky, and the numeral for seven that floated just above it. The figure had a staff in one hand, and what looked like two sphinxes in front of it - the left black, the white right, each with a different expression.

“The Chariot.” She read, flicking the card back over to be upside down again.

“Another willpower card.” Sun Dog commented. “The Chariot is triumphant - you see how the sphynxes are angled in opposite directions? They should go nowhere, but the driver manages to drive the chariot onwards. Nothing that they carry is a gift. Instead, they are rewards earned.”

“But it’s reversed,” Minerva said dryly, “Meaning… that I’m currently a freeloader?”

“Or that you feel that way.” Sun Dog countered. “The cards aren’t quite so literal as we might hope, sometimes. Go ahead and flip the third card.”

“Another upside down one.” Minerva remarked, considering the angel depicted on the card. “Sorry, reversed. Temperance.”  She snorted, placing the card on the table with the others, and then shoving her hands into her pockets.

“Ah, I love the Temperance card.” Sun Dog picked it up briefly, smiling at it, before he laid it back down. “It’s a card of transitions, that one. I - is something wrong?”

Minerva hadn’t been able to hide her flinch at that one. She scowled, more angry at herself than anything - but it seemed the last few days had scraped her raw, left her open and readable. And… she did trust Sun Dog. So she forced herself to clear her throat, and spoke quietly;

“I have a daughter.”

Sun Dog made a vaguely congratulatory noise, a positive sympathy for someone speaking of their loved ones. Minerva’s hands bunched in her pockets.

“I spent most of her life convinced she was my son.” She said quietly.

“Ah.” Sun Dog leaned back, head canted so he could look up for a moment, considering. Minerva knew there was a wealth of information in that, and how she’d presented it, and the connections he could even now be drawing. But she’d refused to run from this. So she sat still, and unwavering, and waited for the judgment she deserved.

“I don’t think it means that kind of transition.” Sun Dog said finally, looking back at her again. “Not in this context, though a gender transition is a common reading of the card. My congratulations to your daughter, by the way.”

Minerva let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Then it doesn’t….” She trailed off, mind unwilling to complete the sentence.

“Doesn’t what?”

“This is the future card, isn’t it?” She said quietly, rather than elaborate immediately. “And reversed, meaning an inverse of the meaning. So if it was about - her transition, and how I pertain to it, then… I would be a roadblock to it. I wouldn’t…” She trailed off again, but Sun Dog only waited.

“... get better.” She finished lamely.

“That you’re worried about it tells me how much you care,” Sun Dog said gently, placing one hand halfway across the table. He couldn’t take hers, given she still had them clenched in her pockets, but she recognized the gesture for what it was meant to be. “But no, I don’t think that’s what the card means in this context. Temperance is the balance between remaining practical, and our dreams. Grounded reality, versus the water of our dreams.”

“So I’m… losing that balance?”

Sun Dog hummed, uncertain, “You might lose that balance, that could be an outcome.” He acknowledged. “But take the cards as they’re important to you. Water is fairly important to you, right?”

Minerva only nodded.

“Then perhaps the reversal isn’t telling you that you’re going to lose your balance. Maybe it’s telling you not to worry so much about that balance - that temperance is not, in fact, what you need to do now.” Sun Dog raised his hands, “I’m no expert. But sometimes we really do need to let loose.”

Minerva stared at the card arrangement for several more minutes. Her mind picked up on patterns, even when she didn’t mean for it to, didn’t intend to read into it. The past, hiding her face from everyone in a mask, carrying a burden she thought she was obligated to take on. The present, lost, her rules turned on their head as surely as the chariot driver was. A canopy of stars, protective shadows against a sky of light… and a being that was neither male nor female, free, offering her the opportunity to move on. 

“I’m not taking advice from a deck of cards.” She heard herself say.

Sun Dog shrugged. “Then take it as advice from me. You see something in the cards - that’s what they’re for. Reflecting what you need to see, to be able to face it.”

Minerva let out a long breath, forcing herself to relax the tension that had settled into her shoulders and spine. She looked up, meeting Sun Dog’s gaze with her own.

“How much do you know about Synovus?”

---

[It's funny - I posted the first of Synovus's story over a year ago. I added onto it, here and there, but the draft to post this was started in... September of 2022? Yet, every day, I get a notification, either through Tumblr or Ao3, that someone has found Synovus, and expressed joy about it somehow. It's... remarkable. I love you all, and thank you for reading!]

[maybegays-blog]

Ethereal Chemistry

Prologue

Lady Dimitrescu x Scientist! Reader

All Chapters

Warnings: Rushed

—

The faint hum of machinery filled the air as you worked diligently in your lab, surrounded by beakers, test tubes, and the soft glow of monitors. Your latest project was coming along nicely.

Just as you were about to delve into the next phase of your research, a familiar voice echoed through the intercom.

"Hey there, [Y/n], mind stepping into my office for a sec?" It was Alan, your colleague and occasional partner in mischief.

You paused, a mix of curiosity and caution flickering within you. Alan's sudden request for a meeting wasn’t unusual, to say the least.

But as you were busy with your project, annoyance built up at being interrupted.

‘Ugh, what does he want now?’ You muttered to yourself, pinching the bridge of your nose in irritation.

With a sigh, you set aside your work and made your way to his office, your footsteps echoing in the empty hallway.

Pushing open the door, you found Alan seated behind his desk, a mischievous grin playing on his lips. "Ah, there you are," he said, motioning for you to take a seat. "I've got something I want to run by you."

You settled into the chair opposite him, your curiosity piqued. "What's on your mind?" you asked, curiosity evident in your voice.

The man leaned back in his chair, his expression serious yet tinged with excitement. "You ever heard of Mother Miranda and the four lords?" he began, his tone measured and deliberate, curiosity shining in his eyes.

You quirked your eyebrow at the sudden question. "You mean that cult Chris was so worked up about?" you asked, a flicker of unease creeping into your voice.

He nodded solemnly. "Yes."

His determination seemed to intensify at the mention of Chris.

But there was something in his demeanor that set off alarm bells in your mind. The way he couldn’t hold eye contact, the slight twitch of his lips—it was clear that he was hiding something.

"Alan, what aren't you telling me?" you pressed, your voice tinged with suspicion.

He hesitated, his gaze flickering to the floor before meeting yours once more. "Okay, I may have... hacked into some important files," he admitted, his tone sheepish.

"You what?!" Your eyes widened, a mixture of shock and concern coursing through you.

The gravity of his confession weighed heavily on your mind. You both knew very well that this could get him fired, or even worse.

"You shouldn't be hacking into any files, Alan! How do you ‘accidentally’ hack anyway?"

"I was just try’na gather information. You know, for research purposes!" His tone grew louder as he tried defending his actions.

You rolled your eyes and sighed, crossing your arms. "Whatever. Why did you call me in here?"

He took a deep breath, his eyes gleaming with newfound determination. "I have a plan," he began, his voice steady. "We gather the necessary resources and equipment in the village, discreetly, of course. Then, we'll put it to good use."

As he vaguely outlined his plan, you couldn't help but feel a knot form in your stomach.

This entire thing felt wrong. The risks were too great, the consequences too dire. But your colleague seemed unfazed, his confidence unwavering.

"Come on, [Y/N]," he urged, leaning in closer. "With your expertise and Astrid's help, we could make this happen. Think of the knowledge we could uncover, the things we could achieve!"

You hesitated, torn between your curiosity and the sense of foreboding that lingered in the back of your mind.

But when he mentioned Astrid, your other friend,(and his sister), joining the venture, a glimmer of hope flickered within you. If Astrid was on board, maybe together you could keep an eye on Alan and ensure things didn't spiral out of control.

With a heavy sigh, you nodded reluctantly. "Fine, I'm in," you said, your voice tinged with uncertainty. "But we need to be careful. We can't afford to make any mistakes."

Alan grinned, a spark of excitement dancing in his eyes. "Don't worry," he reassured you. "Together, with you and Astrid, we've got this covered."