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sashi-ya · 10 months

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東京 NIGHTS mini event

𝑭𝑶𝑼𝑹 𝑯𝑼𝑵𝑫𝑹𝑬𝑫 𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑷𝑺ㅤㅤㅤㅤ 𓂃 ࣪˖ ichigo kurosaki x f! reader

⤹˚ synopsis. adult! ichigo takes you to a winter date to the tokyo tower, climb the steps by his hand, let him guide you the sky.

requested by: @cofeedaifuku ➡ Hello! It has been a really long time since I last requested, so I’m a little shy, but knowing that you are the one that is going to receive it calms me down. Can I request Adult! Ichigo with the prompt to see the tokyo tower at night? Nsfw, female reader she/her, (I’m really bad with requests so I don’t know if I should describe the details of the ask, but in any case, something like Ichigo just loves his s/o so much and he just looks at her and completely loses control. Please ignore this if it is not the case.) tw: MDNI. slight nsfw. adult! ichigo. masturbation through the clothes. wc: 1.7k masterlist

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤHis hand feels warm, powerful too. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤYour hand, in his, feels tiny… protected.

“Can you make some time for me?” that’s how he asked; Ichigo had red apples for cheeks when he did. Your eyes shined like five-point stars; you waited for him to ask you out since forever…

Through the cold streets of Tokyo, the frosting sound beneath your feet sound like cracking. The trees, all of them decorated with silver fairy lights. A gleaming spectacle to the eyes, contrasting with the visible glooming cold of December.

Christmas is right around the corner; the streets are busier than ever. People carry big bags with gifts during a Saturday night, but both of you aren’t buying stuff.

“Have you ever been to the Tokyo tower during winter?” Ichigo asks, stuttering. For some reason, he can be a totally different man when it comes to be all alone with you.

“I never been there during the winter season! I am excited to see the lights!” you chime, so happy your heart could jump out of your chest. Spending time alone with him feels like a dream come true.

Ichigo smiles softly, his eyes flutter to the ground in sign of happiness but still total shyness. “I am glad I chose a good spot, then” he murmurs, scratching the back of his head.

You nod, with a lovely beam. You wish to tell him any spot with him would be perfect, but what if it’s too much? What if it’s not proper?

As you wait for the light street to turn to green, he fidgets with his fingers. His eyes are fixed on your hanging hand, the ginger man is dying to hold it.

You notice, and internally giggle. You help him, letting your sleeve slightly go up. There is no point on acting more shy than him.

Soon enough -or at least right when the red light turns to green- Ichigo snatches your hand. It’s not delicate, it is clumsy but definitely dominant, the way he grabs you and pulls you through the crowd.

Your eyes shine brightly with the lights all around, and the wind plays with your hair looking like the typical shoujo scenes.

Your sight wanders and lands on the freckled cheeks of the strawberry boy; a little blush garnishes his skin, but he has that look of fearless man you know too well. He has decided to stop being shy, to finally get what he came to gain.

A few more steps and your eyes get blessed by the imponent look of the Tokyo Tower in front of you. The red metallic pieces now shine lights of different silver shades. And as you look up, a halo of cold mist surrounds its upper levels.

“Beautiful” you murmur, causing in Ichigo to gasp and look right into your eyes.

“You… you are…” he mumbles, immediately looking away with long orange lashes that cast beautiful shadows over his galaxy cheeks.

You bite your lower lip with a smile, how cute…

“Let’s hurry up, or we aren’t gonna be able to get there before it closes” he tells you, pulling you softly towards the entrance where a man kindly scans the Qr codes from different tickets. You nod and follow him, never once letting you go from your hand.

Once inside, while most of the people decide to take the elevator, both of you chose to climb the 600 steps of the outside stairs. It’s a lot more magical to see the lights of the city as you go up, even if the cold air may seem painful to your lungs. But you don’t care, and neither does he.

You follow him, with the sound of your feet hitting the metallic steps and the heart pumping as hard as them. The more you climb, the more beautiful the city looks beneath your feet.

Ichigo turns around to look at you from time to time, and he is smiling preciously. A beam that he rarely has on his face, but that is big enough to make his brown eyes squint.

The first checkpoint gets cleared, 200 steps in. Then the second one, this time with a little more difficulty. 400 steps, laughing and almost running are a lot more than what your body is used to. However, you want to keep going, but you definitely need to catch some air first.

“Wai-wait Ichigo” you giggle, taking some deep breath of humid cold air through your mouth.

“Oh… sorry, I- I didn’t mean to make you run that much- I…” he excuses himself, watching you with guilty puppy eyes.

You simply laugh. It is more than okay. If you wanna keep up with him, you need to train. He is an amazing substitute Shinigami, and not only that but the stronger ever made; the least you can do is to be able to climb some steps fast enough to catch up with him.

“No worries Kurosaki-kun. I just needed a little bit of air; let’s go” you rush to keep climbing, even if you are clearly not recuperated still. Your head is a little bit dizzy, your legs a little weak.

You try to walk towards him, but you feel like everything around turns dark for some seconds. And Ichigo notices right away.

“(Name)? are you ok?” he urges you for an answer while his arms surround your tired body with his protective embrace.

You would lie if you said you were feeling bad; after all Ichigo is now hugging you. Nothing could go wrong.

“I am fine… I just got a little lightheaded” you whisper, looking up at him. Your nose barely grazing the sharp jaw of the Shinigami. Looking how his Adam’s apple move as he swallows in clear sign of nervousness.

And even if you wanted to move away from his arms, you couldn’t as he kept pulling you closer, tightly against his chest.

The scent of his soft perfume mixed with the one his winter skin has, reminds you how much you desire him. You want him, you want to praise him, and you also want his lips against your lips.

“Please, rest for some minutes more…” he mumbles, this time delicately pushing your head towards his chest. “You need to breathe calmly…” he continues, enjoying perhaps a lot more than he should the closeness of your skin against his.

You don’t dare to argue; you don’t want to. You just want for him to hug you so eternally, and even after too. You nod, nuzzled in the little crook that his prominent collar bones form in the middle of his chest. The little patch of visible skin in between his scarf and white big coat, is all you need to rest assure for the rest of your life.

His hand slowly goes down to the small of your back; his touch is not indecent, it is caring and loving and despite that, the sexual tension in between both of you is undeniable.

You place your ear on his chest, letting yourself go with the song of his beating heart… allowing yours to beat in perfect synchronicity with it. Your eyes open, and they get filled by the view of a city that never seems to sleep, with neon lights flashing all over long, long streets.

Ichigo does the same, both look through the metallic red protective net for some minutes until a little white fluff falling from the sky catches your attention.

“It’s snowing…” you whisper, snaking your arms around his waist. “How beautiful, it is the first one this year”

“Yes…” Ichigo sighs, with trembling voice and reiatsu growing stronger inside the very core of his body. He is gaining strength, or perhaps thinking carefully about his next actions… what he is about to do, might change the destiny of both.

You know it too; when it’s right, you just know…

“Ichigo, I…” you murmur, looking up at him with your eyes plastered on his lips. Giving him the permission to kiss you once, and as many times as he want.

With the same hand he wields his zanpakuto to protect, he now grabs your chin and rather desperately kisses your lips. When your mouths crash against the other, both let some air scape your lungs, living off each other’s souls. More and more, deepening the kiss, melting into one.

The light show of the tower, the last of tonight, begins. Nobody seems to notice you two, neither you notice the lasers blinking through the heavy atmosphere of cold and snowflakes falling.

His hands, this time pooling in the small of your back in concupiscent intention, pulls you closer than ever before. You notice how much of a man he has become; grown up to be stronger and also to be sexier, mature, extremely attractive.

Your belly, feeling the hardness growing in between Ichigo’s winter clothes. Your legs, quivering as his tongue plays with yours in wet, lustful kiss.

The loud songs coming from inside, accompanying the light spectacle, letting your moans to be unheard by the rest as his hands slips so needy in between your tights from under your flannel skirt.

Ichigo’s fingertips get wet, as they rub against your stockings. You shiver and jolt, as he presses right in the spot. The graze of the tights and panties on your clit makes you whine louder into his mouth. A moan he eats so pleased, so hectically.

“I-Ichigo… I….” you stutter, so close to the very first climax of the night… just by the simple touch of his hands with your clothes still on.

“I know… I know… I am sorry, I couldn’t stop myself no more…” he sighs, kissing your forehead but never stopping the circular motions on your core. “I just love you so damn much, (Name)…” he finally confesses, breathing your last moan before you could melt right there, into a mess of sexual desire unleashed and pleased.

“I… I am… Ichigo…” “I know, let’s go back to the hotel… I wouldn’t like you catching a cold, we can come back tomorrow…It was a good idea to come all the way from Karakura town to Tokyo with you 💖~”

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canmom · 4 months

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what's the book for? part 2

[here's an intro where I talk about the three hour video essay that inspired me to do this]

[here's the first part where I argue that there's a big difference between the actual thing you do in an RPG and the book that tells you how you're allegedly supposed to be doing it]

So if the actual TTRPG games are mostly learned by observation and practice, what is the something that RPG books claim to give you in order to enable that?

Here's three things I can think of.

This isn't intended as a Forge-like categorisation of games, most RPG books offer (or claim to offer) all of these to some degree, ideally in complementary ways...

A ruling reference - RPG book as legal system

In the intro to a typical mainstream RPG book, this is typically the explanation that is given.

Over the course of a telling a story together, all sorts of weird edge cases come up where you might not want to simply make a call on how it should resolve. Moreover, consistency is valued, for both challenge and narrative reasons.

In this case, the RPG book is a big collection of rulings for specific situations. 'What happens when a character falls off a cliff?' You can look it up. It's like legal precedents. This is how a lot of the stuff in the early D&D books started - stuff that someone had done, and a referee had made a ruling, and it got written down. Then it would get systematised, unified, and streamlined so that it's easier to remember and extend to new situations.

A lighter game avoids special cases and just suggests a general procedure for resolving situations of uncertainty, conflicts etc.

This angle doesn't tend to cover procedures for how the game is physically run - how to go about setting up the scenario, who should get priority when speaking, etc. etc. - beyond perhaps offering prebuilt modules to inspire you. In older games, most of that is stuff you pick up by watching. In newer games... well, hold on.

A grab bag of interesting prompts - RPG book as inspiration in the moment

Most RPG books have flavour text; many also have tables of weird shit you can roll on or select when building a character, character sheets full of interesting abilities, descriptions of NPCs and so on. A select few RPGs like Unknown Armies and Chuubo's Marvellous Wish-Granting Engine have really distinctive prose too.

The aim of all these tools is to give you something to latch onto when you're in the moment and you need to think of the next thing to say. It's also to get people onto some shared understanding of what this game is all about.

This is where the bulk of many RPG books lies. It's explicitly the aim of Apocalypse World's MC moves. Many one-page RPGs are nothing but lists of evocative names and description elements, and a short snatch of prose.

Prompt tables and lists of names are popular in just about every tradition of RPG design - trad, storygames, OSR, all use them. Sometimes they're the most memorable thing about an RPG, like Dark Heresy's crit tables.

Sometimes pages of tables is the RPG - in recent years, card-based games have become popular, using a regular deck of cards which indexes into a big table of events, each of which is like 'here's a short description. how do you respond?'. This type of game has a great deal in common with storylet-based interactive fiction like Fallen London.

Prompts don't have to be short, though. Arguably an adventure module can be pretty much this - something you consult when players arrive in a new place to get an idea of who they should meet for example.

In D&D, the Monster Manual is straight up a book of real freaky guys you can put in your game. It also has stat blocks for them, of course, but the descriptions and pictures do a lot of work here to make them concrete.

This is why I describe the pictures in Lancer as load-bearing. The pictures help - or are supposed to help - grease the wheels of imagination when you're trying to imagine mechs.

This function of RPGs is a large part of the angle you're playing if you tie the game to a particular genre, setting or IP.

A machine to guide you to a specific experience - RPG book as auteur blueprint

So here's the newer flavour.

RPGs can be one of the most feelings-dense forms of art that humans create - it's your story, with your characters. This is something that tends to arise organically after you spend a long time with a character and 'get into their head'.

However, there is often a desire on the designer's side to structure the game to bring about a particular kind of emotional experience more directly. From horror games to games self-consciously 'about' colonialism, abuse, romance, etc., these games try to give you a particular experience, similar to what a film or book gives you - or indeed, a computer game.

Here are some examples:

My Life With Master is an older Forge game. It's about the 'Igor' servant characters in a classic horror movie, billing itself as 'a roleplaying game of villainy, self-loathing, and unrequited love'. It presents you with an emotionally charged scenario and mechanics that try to push you towards specific drama - if you want to be critical, a firm instance of the incentives and buttons oriented design that Huntsman was talking about, sometimes quite explicitly saying 'this mechanic was designed to...'

Dog Eat Dog is a game 'a game of imperialism and assimilation on the Pacific islands', with the DM reimagined as a colonial power adding more and more restrictions and the players as native people who will inevitably break its rules, until they are eventually pushed to 'run amok' (fatally), or assimilate. It's a game whose entire argument is more or less spelled out in the book itself.

But games don't have to be this narrowly scoped to have this kind of aspiration. Something like Apocalypse World still wants to bring about certain kinds of interaction, laid out quite explicitly as 'agendas' for the MC and players. It is strongly 'opinionated', in programmer terms.

Even a very flexible game can take on this model. Fiasco is a very abstract structure, designed to set up a chaotic situation like in a Coen Brothers movie. Microscope is designed to give you a fractal zoom in and out of a fictional history. These games are almost all procedure; Fiasco has some fantastic prompt tables, and a clear way to cook up your own, but the bulk of it is the stuff it tells you to do with scenes and dice.

These could be seen as games on an auteur model, with many of the emotional beats of the scenario already rigged up in advance. You get this type of book to experience a good/meaningful story - with a certain amount of flexibility in the details that gets you more attached. If there is a GM/MC/etc. they have instructions to facilitate the expression of that story.

...well, I refer to it as an auteur model. Thankfully not everyone is Ron Edwards! Apocalypse World has a whole chapter about how to modify the game to your taste, or build new games on its framework, and that - plus its conceptual simplicity - probably played a role in its hundreds of derivatives. 'Hacking' games was well established as a practice in the storygames milieu right from the early days. Probably the vast majority of games put out on itch.io are simply hacks of an established framework, very few offer real innovation.

Despite this, the offer of these products is still that they'll tell you how create a kind of verbal machine to realise some very specific thing.

Secret fourth thing...?

I can't think of others right now, but I hate presenting a list as exhaustive unless I can prove it's exhaustive. It's very likely there's some other function a book can claim to perform.

However, to summarise, you look at an RPG book to get:

a consistent set of rulings to handle situations of uncertainty

a set of prompts to help inspire your imagination when you need inspiration

a carefully designed procedure to lead you to a specific experience

The third thing is kind of a different beast to the other two, huh? You might be thinking that the first two are trad games and the third one is post-Forge 'story games', but it's really much older than that. Paranoia is a great early example; there are shades of it in many games published in the 80s and 90s. Not all these games are affiliated with the Forge and its diaspora either - take for example Jenna Moran's games and Bliss Stage.

Story games are not books either

The Forge and its diaspora led to a lot of games being printed, and launched the careers of many an 'indie TTRPG designer', which was not really a thing you could be in the same way before. It would be easy therefore to think this was the main contribution: we should assess it on the basis of the printed games that resulted.

However, nothing says you have to use a book to pilfer from their idea pool.

The really interesting contribution of the whole movement, to my eye, is that it calls our attention to a facet of TTRPGs that had often been left implicit. Who speaks, when? Who gets the 'narrative authority' to make the final call on what becomes 'true'? How do you organise time - do you frame scenes, use flashbacks, cut between different characters? What makes a dice roll exciting? How do you work out what would engage the other players, and communicate your own interests? Are you trying to help your character win, or are you more like a writer who might choose to make them suffer? How do you make a compelling character arc? What can be changed around behind the scenes to make a better story?

These are all aspects of 'play', the thing that you do at the table. Any given TTRPG group will settle on its own implicit or explicit approach to this kind of thing.

Different RPG books will tell you to do this or that. Some games will tell you to set stakes, or make failure interesting, or make choices that act as 'flags' to show what you're looking for.

But these tools are not tied to any specific game. You don't need the 'permission' of a book, nor can a book stop you doing it. A book may lay out a procedure that makes it easier, may introduce you to an idea that you haven't heard before, but once you have the idea, you can play with it however you like.

The way I approach a trad game like D&D, from either side of the DM screen, has become very different after my sojourn into the world of story games. A lot of what I liked there, I kept doing. Other inspiration comes from outside of the 'hobby' entirely, in related milieu like improv comedy.

This is something the OSR milieu seems to understand quite well. Everything is expected to be mixed, matched, and interpreted by the needs of your group. Posts will be framed as mere advice, which can be picked up and applied regardless of context.

But that all depends on a certain amount of common ground as to 'what the game is'. There is an authoritative DM who runs the scenario. The emphasis of the game is probably on exploring some kind of ruin and surviving in a dark, decaying fantasy world populated by various factions at odds with each other. Players control flimsy characters whose survival is not guaranteed, but if they live long enough, they can become major powers. There is a heavy strategic aspect: you are trying to use your resources to survive and get something. This is the general shape of a 'prototypical OSR game'.

the shared context of storygames

Story games form their own subsubculture, but they do not have this level of shared context. Instead, a different kind of shared context is kind of implicit in the milieu.

Here's how things go at the London Indie RPG Meetup Group, which I've attended a couple of times: a group of nerds gather in a pub. People will pitch games with a couple of sentences; then people will form groups and play that game as a one-shot session. Someone will have a book, or printouts. Most players will not have heard of the game before.

In this kind of context, a lot of the quirks of story games make sense. 'Read this out' paragraphs, rapid character creation based on selecting prompts, simple mechanics designed to push you into drama as quickly as possible: all of this stuff is perfect for a one-shot game you play once or a few times. This type of game is not really trying to 'take on' trad games.

But then there's the 'middle ground' kind of game, which are closer to a 'trad' game - a game master, persistent characters each controlled by one player, multiple sessions, progression - but also instruct you to do something more experimental by trad-game standards. This includes Apocalypse World and its derivatives, Blades in the Dark and its derivatives, the Burning Wheel/Mouse Guard lineage, Jenna Moran's games... and so on.

It's this point of overlap where things get sticky and it all becomes a bit tense. Since, well, story game fans can be quite evangelistic - and part of that evangelism depends on a dismissively book-determinist view of trad TTRPGs. But conversely, trad players can be quite reluctant to imagine there is any other way of approaching this whole activity, and dismissive of any other approach. I do not like it, Sam-I-am.

So you end up with a situation of camps, with both groups bristling at the sense that they should be compelled to give up the thing they like to do it the way they consider inferior.

And if you want to criticise the other camp, what do you do? Pick up their book and criticise it as a product, according to your sense of what a TTRPG book is for. Which seems hopelessly besides the point when a book is such a small part of the story.

I've played trad games, story games, OSR games, 'freeform' forum games, LARP, MMO roleplaying, improv comedy... Not as much as I'd like of anything, but enough to get a sense of the many ways we can do this 'roleplaying' thing, whether by explicit rule or implicit convention.

So the puzzle I now have is, if there is to be a book involved, what is that book there to do? What really makes for a good RPG book? Are there other ways to get that thing? How do you game design honestly?

We'll try to address that in part 3 of this series, coming... sometime soon, hopefully!

#roleplaying games #story games #ttrpg #tabletop roleplaying

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ofstaigweek · 1 year

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Pst!

It's really happening!

Gooood day, staig enthusiasts! The time has finally come, and it's here! Staig week 2023! We're so glad that we were able to pull this off, with the three teasers presented we hoped it had made you look forward to this wonderful event.

SEPTEMBER 18 — SEPTEMBER 24

Now, let's get to it! But first, a set of guidelines for this week.

• PRIORITY RULE NO PLAGIARISM / AI ART / HATE SPEECH OR ANYTHING OF THE SORT. staig week is friendly not to just artists, but to everybody else.

• submission any form of submission is acceptable! art on paper/digital, literature, edits, etc! as long as it honors the priority rule. + late submissions are fine!

• tagging if to submit, use #staigweek2023 or tag us so the world may see your contribution!

• themes the first six days have two choices to choose from, and you are to pick one. or, if you're feeling motivational, choose both! why not?

• it's more than okay if you draw/write staig as their genderbent, headcanons, or post-covid versions throughout the week! whichever you're comfortable with.

• and finally, have fun!

.... And with confidence, here it is,

• SEPTEMBER 18TH, DAY 1: to when it all started

first confession - they say confessions make the best memory — or the worst.

rivalry - staig's infamous rivalry.

• SEPTEMBER 19TH, DAY 2: my impressions of you

fanfiction - is there a particular fanfiction of staig you always wanted to illustrate? a oneshot that captures their endearment perfectly that you just want to draw it?

theme song - a theme song should be interesting, no? ever found a song you've listened to one day, and thought, 'hey, i can imagine 10 different scenarios of staig with this song'. or maybe it's just them listening to your favorite artist? it depends on how you see it.

• SEPTEMBER 20TH, DAY 3: nostalgic memories

SOT - stick of truth; the warrior and the thief, marshwalker and feldspar. how do you imagine their story?

TFBW - the fractured but whole; yet again toolshed and super craig remain rivals, what is it with these two?

• SEPTEMBER 21ST, DAY 4: troublesome

detention - with their reputation, why wouldn't they be in detention? always getting into fights, disasters they've caused.. but for what purpose exactly?

bad habits - sneaking out at night to party or to their secret meeting place, drinking, smoking, skipping classes, the typical rebellious teenage stuff which could be romantic if you think hard enough.

• SEPTEMBER 22ND, DAY 5: so happy together

indoors - staig date! indoors bonding — video games, cooking, card games, or spending time with stripe? who knows.

outdoors - another staig date? ridiculous. but this time it could be different and unique, maybe? like an aquarium date, a stargazing date, or stick to the basics. maybe go into the alphabet of dates to see what would go well with them? you decide.

• SEPTEMBER 23RD, DAY 6: up to this special day

graduation - their graduation! could be their graduation picture together, or a sentimental moment they could share.

prom night - a final moment to perfectly end their senior year in a success or a disaster; depending on your mood.

• SEPTEMBER 24TH, DAY 7: happy staig 2023!

FREE DAY - have a particular AU or prompt you wanted to draw that wasn't included? then with the 7th day you are free to do so! tons of possibilities and nothing to stop you. happy staig week 2023! thank you so much for letting us host this year, and of course, thank you for participating!

#craig tucker #craig x stan #sp craig #sp staig #sp stan #staig #staig week 2023 #staigweek2023 #stan marsh #stan x craig #cran #sp cran

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haunting-hari · 10 months

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pinned post!!

hey, i’m hari (pronounced Ha-ree. if you pronounce it as ‘hairy’ i’ll maul you)

i’m now 17, and reside in unova

uhh i have a few partner pkmn. there’s maru, a lampent that i’ve known for years. she could kick your ass. a sweetheart though, and my best friend! [he/she. he’s very fem tho]

there’s jackie, a gengar. he’s pretty cool but real lazy. it’s incredibly hard to piss him off being honest. love that guy he’s like the dad I never had lol [he/him]

then rasp a trevenant. old man. great cook, VERY stubborn, really like charcuterie boards, and he knows jackie well, too. both of em are old geezers [he/him]

…and mal, a rotom. mal, to put it lightly they are an asshole/affectionate. they like stealing my phone. a bastard who regularly engages in trickery and causes problems. [they/them. rotoms don’t have gender I don’t think]

miss tye, a hatterene. she's got the typical personality of a hatterene, but she's a bit easier to enrage. This, actually is a good thing- as her tolerance to 'loud emotion' goes up signifigantly, as she deals with herself being angry, haha. [she/her]

charm, an alcremie. she's very polite, as well as naive, and a bit spunky, but she's honestly a sweetheart. i was the one to evolve her, and she’s been the happiest since. she gets along real well with maru! [she/her]

a froakie, locket!! he hatched just recently, and i love him with all my heart. he fears nothing and while sometimes shy, is just a very interesting little guy. a baby. he also happened to be a shiny. surprised me too, haha!! [he/him]

An applin, now dipplin gifted to me by my (girl)friend, arom! she likes taking naps and out of everyone I know has the biggest sweet tooth lol [she/her]

there’s tags for each of my Pokémon when they’re mentioned, and mal TRIED to be sneaky and post on my account-their posts are tagged “MAL’Z POSTZ”, as well as images are under “art” tag. miss tye also took my phone at one point, her tag is "Tye talks".

and i’m a human. so. yeah. human.

current event: None

//ooc below readmore

More will be revealed about hari and his team as time goes on!! please interact if ur a pokeblogger!!!! try to stay in character with this guy ok? lol

ooc storytelling will be tagged "hari's stories"!! they are often from askgames, but PLEASE request some if you ever get a prompt idea for this guy... you could ask about his past, present, and sometimes future!!

the current events each have tags for things related to their story! So far, we have the events “mourn the nineteenth”, “galarian imports”, “charm evolves”, “trip to alamos”, “unexpected egg”, “rebirth on the 26th”, "entombed event", and "Paldea trip". look at the tag to learn more!

there’s a tag for more serious stuff: that’s tagged as “lore”. Another lore heavy tag is “Forlorn presence”.

ofc, no generally unpleasant people, you get the drill. please send asks!!! :)

magic anons are on, too. please send asks!!!!!! this blog’s activity is mainly correlated to its interaction :)

also, small tidbit- you can do pelliper mail, but don't deliver a dusk stone. maru is gonna stay a lampent for a while because hari cant find one. so. when the time comes she'll evolve, but. yeah

#pokemon #pkmn

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bunnymajo · 2 years

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No one asked, but it’s my day off so I filled out that OTP ask prompt I reblogged earlier for funsies for Surge x Elias(teen AU)

be warned it’s very cheesy

1. Who most initiates PDA?

-Elias. Without even being conscious of it, he’s just an affectionate guy

2. Any sleep habits either had to get used to?

-Elias is used to a typical early to bed & early to rise schedule, Surge just sleeps whenever she wants so he has to get used to her mostly if they’re in the same room

4. How did they first meet?

-Elias was camping and cooking outdoors, Surge thought it smelled good and wanted to steal it. They fought (Elias more lightheartedly than Surge, thinking it was just play fighting) and Elias eventually said “If you want some I don’t mind sharing” so she did and they started chatting

5. What is their love language?

-Cooking for Elias to Surge, Showing off cool things she found and thinks he might think are cool too for Surge to Elias

6. When did they realize they loved each other?

-Slowly & Gradually. Elias figured it out first when he realized he was thinking about her and her well being more often than normal. Surge was more stubborn about it for a long time, thinking “oh this chump is just some pretty faced guy, who cares.” but Elias helped save her one time and had a more serious look on his face and Surge was like “...oh.”

7. Who is more sentimental?

-ELIAS.

8. What’s one way their personalities complement one another?

-Elias helps Surge keep her rage in check (very slightly) and gives her something to look forward to in her life, Surge shows Elias it’s ok to be a little selfish and do what you want that makes you happy and inspires his free-spirited adventurous self

9. How are their personalities different?

-Surge is the worst girl you’ll ever meet, Elias looks and acts like he was sculpted by angels

10. What are some activities they do together?

- Sparing, anything sporty/outdoorsy.

11. Which member is more physically affectionate?

-Elias. Hand holding, nuzzling, hugging - he can’t be stopped

12. Which member is more verbally affectionate?

-Elias, partially just because Surge is just incredibly new at this. She’ll try but it’ll just come out a little sleazy sounding.

13. Which member steals borrows the other ones clothing?

-Surge takes his stuff all the time but since Elias doesn’t wear pants there’s not a lot she can wear that’s his.

14. Are they an introverted couple or an extroverted one—AKA would they prefer to go out to a party or event together or would they rather stay in?

-Introverted, Elias is used to royal parties and get togethers. It's nice to be with someone who’s not about that life at all. Surge hates parties unless she’s going to trash the place.

15. Who is more likely to make an impulsive decision and who is the voice of reason?

-They’re both impulsive! And supportive of each impulse “Let’s jump into that lake!” “Oh that sounds like fun, sure!” But Elias is the voice of reason if it’s a violent impulse.

16. Who stays up way too late and who tries to drag them to bed?

-Surge goes to sleep when she wants to like a wild animal and Elias respects that.

17. Who fell in love first?

-Surge. She’ll never admit it was at first sight though.

18. What song fits them perfectly?

“The Theme from Big Wave” - Tatsuro Yamashita (at least it’s what I associate with them the most for now)

19. How do they deal with being away from each other for a long time?

-They’re used to adventuring separately, but they look forward to meeting again and try to think “oh I’ll have to tell them I saw this” “oh gotta get this for them next time” etc.

20. Who holds a grudge the longest?

-Surge. Even if she forgives him she’ll still bring it up weeks later.

21. Which of the two is quick to speak and which one is quick to listen?

-Surge says what’s on her mind as it’s happening, and Elias is always eager to listen, he’s fascinated by her.

22. Who gets more easily embarrassed?

-Surge. Will just run away if it’s too much for her.

23. Who overthinks the most?

-Also Surge. Trauma’s a bitch

24. Which of the two is the most competitive?

-It’s equal but Surge is more likely to take it seriously while Elias is more for fun

25. Who’s the most stubborn?

-Surge

26. How do they comfort each other?

-When her trauma just get to be too much, Elias’ presence is comforting enough but sometimes, sometimes, she’ll want to be held and he’ll happily oblige

-For Elias, if pressure gets to him Surge will think of the quickest way they can both blow off steam “Wanna go destroy some robots or something?”

27. What random everyday object/activity makes them think of each other?

-Elias: Palm Trees, Surge: Warm Bread

28. Do they get along with each other’s friends and family?

-No. Sally and Kit want the relationship to end so they wont ever have to see Elias or Surge again, but want their siblings to be happy so they’ll just stare judgingly from the sidelines.

30. What is their favorite place to kiss the other? (Cheek, hand, closed eyelid, neck, nose, etc.)

-Elias: anywhere she’ll let him, he’s not picky. But he can usually get away with a kiss on her hand the most easily.

-Surge: she’ll never admit to liking kissing, also trying to kiss Elias is like kissing a lightbulb, it’s too bright & shiny you can’t even get close and it’s so embarrassing to even try it.

31. What’s the relationship like? Smooth? Rocky?

-Chunky peanut butter

32. How do they resolve their arguments?

-Sparring

33. Who has the most nightmares and how do they deal with them?

-Surge has the most nightmares, Elias will just be there and do whatever he needs to to give her comfort (sleep next to her, give her space, more blankets, etc)

34. Do they give each other nicknames?

-They both have a long list of names that they’re too embarrassed to use. Surge has more nicknames for Elias that were made with love but sound like insults.

35. What movies do they enjoy watching most?

-Action-comedy movies

36. How’d they meet each other’s families?

-Kit rarely leaves Surge’s side so he just came with the package, Surge found out Elias was prince and that didn’t go so well but he invited her to stay over if she ever changed her mind and she showed up the next morning at the Acorn Palace “Hey I’m here!” and broke in.

37. What do they like the least about each other?

-Elias wishes Surge wasn’t so quick to pick fights, Surge wishes Elias would be more assertive and picked more fights

38. What was their most memorable date?

-Acorn Kingdom Winter Gala, Surge’s introduction to the courts [insert hilarious violent scenarios here]

39. What other couple would your otp get along with the best?

-Tenchi & Ryoko (Tenchi Muyo)

40. Who makes the other smile with almost no effort at all?

-It’s pretty mutual, but Surge just has to be herself and Elias is instantly charmed

#headcanons #eliassurge

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miekasa · 3 years

Note

I’m in love with the idea of twitch streamer bf eren

OKAY ME TOO!! Easily top 3 best Eren concepts imo it’s just so good and so... him, he falls on the gamer himbo boyfriend side of the scale for sure

Let’s start with his setup: purple and/or green with a dark wood tabletop. He keeps the lights green during the day or when his computer is idle, and mixes in the purple when it’s dark out because he likes the Ambiance.

Only one monitor and do not let him buy another one no matter how much he claims he needs it. He does not. He has a TV in his room tho, but it’s not mounted above or near his desk; it’s on the opposite wall that faces his bed. Laying down and watching Netflix takes priority.

He’s a sucker for themed keyboards/keycaps. If he finds a set themed around his favorite show or a character he likes, he’ll buy it. No self control.

The majority of his keyboards have that super clacky almost officey sounding click to them, and he’s obsessed with it. Sometimes he fucks around on Google Docs typing nonsense just to hear the keyboard make noise.

Puts in special keycaps on the ones with your initials on whichever keyboard he’s using at the moment <3 gamer boyfriend things <33

Always swears he wants to do some kind of special event or thank you for subscriber/follower milestones, but he never catches his own milestones 😭😭 by the time he realizes he has 100k subs, he’s already on 103k or something

Then he calls you, his friends, and his subscribers fake for not pointing it out to him like sir it’s right there on your screen please. All you had to do was LOOK

If he’s in the middle of a game and he really has a to pee, or he’s gotta go do something, he’ll yell for you, and you come in, obviously slightly worried, but then Eren is just hurriedly giving you instructions, “Here, press left or right to move, spacebar to fire, avoid these, kill those. That ugly look thing to the left is Jean, and over there is his character. You’re teammates, I’ll be right back,” before he puts his headphones on your head and runs off. Now you’re left to fend for yourself, good luck.

He can be gone anywhere from 30 seconds to 30 minutes 😭😭 if he’s gone for a short amount of time, he comes back with just as much chaotic energy to take back his headphones and shoo you away as he did to throw it all on you pls.

Other times, he’ll go and make a whole ass meal and come back sauntering in with a half eaten grilled cheese in hand, “Oh shit are you still playing, babe—hey you’re doing really well, look at you go!”

When you’re not there, he mentions you a lot, because he’s always thinking about you no matter how small it is; even just the design of a character would prompt him to a make a comment, “I don’t think my girlfriend has ever played this, but I know she’d main this character.”

Does he invite you to play a game he knows you’ve never played or are bad at with him on his stream, knowing full well he’s an ace at it and will crush you publicly? Absolutely. Without a doubt.

There’s always a very shameless, not at all subtle shoutout to his Instagram in the middle of all his streams please, he’ll be playing a game and randomly it’s like, “Fire pic on Instagam by the way, go like that.”

His comments are pretty respectful whenever you’re there or he mentions you; there’s a few cheeky randoms who like to make donations whenever you’re on the screen or say some inappropriate stuff, but Eren’s learned to just ignore it. It doesn’t make him happy, and he might tell people to chill if it’s excessive, but he won’t call out anything explicitly and make you uncomfortable while you’re there.

Sometimes Connie will make a comment about how you’re hot, and that’s definitely something Eren will call out and bring attention to, more so to mock Connie than anything.

At one point, his subscribers keep asking for more content with you (especially if you’re not there often/it’s been a while since people have seen a peek of you), to which Eren will pout because, “Hey, this is my Twitch-- now, look, you’ve gotten your Eren’s hot girlfriend privileges revoked for the week.”

Terrible at doing unboxing videos whenever he gets sent product because he just rips things open 😭😭 he’s too eager to do ASMR or gentle/detailed unboxing, he just wants to test out the new parts as soon as possible.

Abuses his spinny gamer chair. Spins himself dizzy on it (yes, while he’s streaming and waiting for lobbies/things to load), spins you dizzy on it when you’re just trying to be comfy, spins the both of you dizzy when he’s trapped you on his lap.

He’d be one of those lucky people who gets a cool single name user/ID. Like he gets just @eren or @jaeger/yeager, because his name is pretty unique, but I can totally see him going the typical fun gamer tag route.

His content is anything from him streaming Overwatch and COD to terraforming his Animal Crossing island, he does not discriminate. One day you could get Eren calling Jean a fucking dumbass for not healing him, and the next day he’s doing his best impressions of Timmy and Tommy.

Do not put it past him to build you a whole ass PC setup if you express the slightest interest in one, even if it’s not solely for gaming/you wanna use it for work/school. He’ll do it. He’ll make his hyperfixating work for him.

Plus then he’d get to give you one of his old keyboards and give you special keycaps with his initials and go on about how he’s officially got a gamer gf even if all you can do is press the spacebar <33

#anonymous #when is it my turn... when do i get one of him.... WHEN!!!! WHEN!!!!!!!#eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren fluff #aot x reader

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sullustangin · 3 years

Text

Fictober Prompt #23: “This time, do what I say.”

Fandom: SWTOR

Time: Sometime after KotET. I think I consider this one a sequel to “The Expendables“ and Prompt 18 for this event.

“This time, do what I say. Ready position. And 1!”

“HA.” The chorus of voices sounded off as Senya inspected the recruits’ forms.

“2!”

HA.” The practice dual-tipped polearms came down, and Senya walked up and down the aisle.

“3!”

“She is formidable.” Arcann and Koth sat on the second floor of the military hangar, looking down on the drill.

“You sound surprised, like you didn’t know that.” Koth propped his chin up on one of the rungs that made up the safety railing, his feet dangling over the edge.

“I went for many years without seeing her.” Arcann watched his mother’s swift reconnaissance about the room, ensuring quality control. “The way Valkorion spoke of her, he made her sound far weaker than she was.”

“Add that to the list of lies our Immortal Emperor told you.” Koth also kept an eye on Senya for entirely different reasons.

“Old habits die hard, don’t they, Koth?” Koth gazed down at Lana, who had walked beneath his dangling feet, datapad in hand. She smiled as he grunted at her and stuck his tongue out. “I wanted to let you know that the Captain approved the additional Zaakul patrols -- nothing extensive, but she has a few old friends with a few old debts that are willing to keep an eye on things for her.”

“I’ll take it. Thank the bosslady for me, if I don’t see her first.”

“I will.” Lana gave Koth’s foot a playful tug. “What are you two up to?”

“Taking a break from a multi-dimensional chess match,” Arcann answered.

“And being scared of his mom,” Koth added.

Lana smiled up at them. “Thick as thieves, you two are lately. Anything I should know about?”

Koth smirked down at her. “Lana Beniko, whatever do you mean by that question? And is that a note of something less than professional in your voice? In regard to me?”

“I’m just trying to keep tabs on all of my assets, as usual.”

That last part was code to confirm for her place, tonight. Yesssss.

Koth’s internal celebration was interrupted by Lana’s next question. “Arcann, are you well?” Koth felt the metal in the floor flex slightly as the other man got up and left.

“Hey, Arcann? Arcann?” Koth called after him, but he didn’t turn around or acknowledge Koth.

“Was it something I said?” were the first words out of Lana’s mouth as Koth walked through there door. She met him there, a Menkooro bourbon in each hand. She offered him one, which he eagerly took.

Koth sighed. “You know that little tease thing you did, about anything you should know about?”

Lana nodded, then paused. “Oh, dear. I knew his upbringing was conservative, but --” She frowned. “Surely that won’t be a problem in working with you or--”

“No no no no no -- you got the wrong end of that.” Koth downed the bourbon like it was shot, and his eyes watered. “Damn, Lana, good stuff.”

“Anyway,” she motioned for him to continue on, sipping her own bourbon.

When the glass parted from her lips, Koth took it from her. “I earned this,” he insisted. At her start of an objection, he explained, “Yeah, he was brought up as heir to an empire. You know, a system of government that typically relies on biological heirs and stuff? He was always told he was gonna have to find a girl and do the do and make more little emperors for Zakkul.” Koth downed the other bourbon. “I caught up to him later. He’s realized he might not be only into that. Or maybe even not into that at all. He never had a choice before --”

“And now he does.” Lana stared at him, her yellow eyes gradually lighting up and opening wide at the revelation. “Oh, my. More bourbon.”

Another few glasses later for both of them, Lana said to Koth, “So, is there? Between you?”

“We’re friends. Honestly, he’s having identity issues - not just the sex thing, but everything -- now that all the pressure is off. He’s just --- he’s just a guy living in the galaxy now. He can love whoever he wants, however he wants. And Arcann doesn’t know what he personally wants yet, now that the whole ‘do it for Zakuul’ thing is off the table.”

“Well, bloody good for him.” Lana raised her glass upward to clink with Koth’s. “To Arcann being himself. Whoever the hell that is.”

“Whoever the hell that is.”

A/N: In my headcanon, Lana and Koth are both bi, and they have this on/off relationship that just never resolves itself; they have other lovers, but they tend to come back around to each other. I’ve always read Arcann as someone very inexperienced and somewhat isolated due to his position in the empire. As a result, he’s awkward when dealing with ‘normal’ life. Depending in how one reads Zakuulan culture, it would have been expected of him to pop out heirs, regardless of what his actual orientation was. Now that the Empire is gone and he is, as the story says, just a guy living in the galaxy -- now what? So Arcann comes to the ‘self-discovery’ stage a little older than most, but that happens to lots of people IRL. And here’s to them, too.

#fictober21 #swtor #swtor fan fiction #koth vortena #lana beniko #arcann

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musicallisto · 4 years

Text

⚔ — 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥; (tyrion lannister x f!reader)

@multifandomfix requested: Hey, for your start of the year event, could I get #44 with Tyrion Lannister, please? Thanks in advance if you end up choosing it. I hope 2021 will be a great year for you. 😊

song: bazzi - beautiful | 𝄞

summary: How could he tell you it was all his fault - that he had loved you to pieces since the stars had taken their first breath, and that Tywin’s revenge on him was to make you suffer while he was powerless?

author notes: I ain’t never seen a fluffy one-shot written by me, always half of it gotta be depressing

word count: 2.7k (what the HELL)

warnings: language + the typical stuff that’s commonplace in GoT

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 younger, young enough to hear her speak freely around you, you’d often heard the illustrious Cersei Lannister, blessed may her reign be, mutter her implacable adage through slit eyes and arrogant teeth; in Westeros, when one played the game of thrones, they were either crowned or buried. Some win and some die, she’d state with a smug grin, ignoring Jaime rolling his eyes right by her. You would always nod in silence; partly because you, lesser Lady of King’s Landing, certainly did not dare to contradict your most redoubtable playmate; but also because, deep down, you believed in her truths. You’d seen it when your father came back from his battles, commanding the Crown’s armies across the Southern seas, or when you heard the whispers at Court of yet another fallen Lord who believed he could play with fire like the Targaryens; there was little more than victors and vanquished, and you, as a lady-in-waiting to the future Queen, could sleep easy at night knowing you were on the right side of the world.

Yet when the rebellion led by your father’s army of mutineers was crushed by the King’s forces, when your brothers all fled into exile across the continent; when your title, name, and lands became those of a traitor to the Crown; you understood that in the game of thrones, death was the only blessing the powerful bestowed when they were clement; for there was far crueler and harrowing a punishment than torture: humiliation and servitude.

King Robert Baratheon, his mercy guided by Tywin Lannister’s murmurs, decided against sending you to death as he would have any of your brothers, despite the abject crimes your name now carried. In all his bonhomie, he had made you a servant of his wife instead, perpetually condemned to following the Lannisters around and never quite catching up to them.

“Why did the King spare my life?” you had asked Jaime one time, in hushed tones, aware that a servant caught talking to the Kingslayer with such familiarity would cause quite the scandal.

“Probably because he knows you were always a dear friend to Cersei and me.”

That was Jaime, as always; believing what he wanted to believe, and damned would be the one who’d change his mind. And to think he still thought, with a disconcerting assurance, that Cersei and you were still dear friends...

You hadn’t asked her why you were still alive. You knew she’d eye you for a moment, then order you to fetch her some water. She savored the sight of you in rugged clothes and immensely exhausted.

The only one who knew was Tyrion.

He always knew everything.

Even more so when it was about you.

“Why did the King spare my life?” you had asked him one evening, in the quiet banquet hall, only illuminated by flickering candles. He had looked up from his chalice of wine and at you, clearing the last dishes from the grand supper, and he swore his heart ruptured. He loved nothing more than staying absurdly late after dinner so he could catch you alone, but when your misty eyes, still too pure and bright for a world so cold, asked such unfathomable questions...

“I don’t know,” he had muttered casually.

Neither of you believed it. There was nothing Tyrion didn’t know.

But how could he tell you it was Tywin’s sick little pleasure, to keep you in chains at an arm’s length from him, from his embarrassment of a son? How could he tell you it was all his fault - that he had loved you to pieces since the stars had taken their first breath, and that Tywin’s revenge on him was to make you suffer while he was powerless?

“Sometimes I wish he had not,” you had confessed with this outrageous beauty of yours, chin up and prosody of a dame despite the greasy plates in your elegant hands.

Tyrion had bitten his tongue hard enough to draw blood. You were not the King’s prisoner, nor the castle’s, nor your family name’s; you were his, and he loved you so ardently, beyond all the words he knew, that he was utterly paralyzed.

The wine and hall were long cold by the time he went to sleep that night.

The following days, inexplicably, Tyrion was the first of the family to retire to his quarters after dinner. A pang of sullenness stung your throat when you brought the usual wine cup to an empty chair. Never before had he gone to bed without wishing you goodnight. Not since the night, so many years before, when you had run out on Cersei and Jaime to stay with their boring and lame little brother and talk the night away with his electric soul...

“Why didn’t Tyrion wait for you?” Jaime had whispered into your ear as you leaned over to pour him more wine.

You froze, almost long enough for Cersei to flair your discomfort. That was Jaime, as always; surprisingly perceptive when he allowed himself to be...

“I don’t know.”

You and Tyrion were so alike. You had the same inflection in the voice when you admitted to not knowing something... frustration and defeat.

“Maybe he’s not feeling well. You should check on him.”

“I’m certain he is f—”

“Y/N, go tend to my brother, please,” he cut, his voice a little louder.

You stopped, looking at Jaime, strong and tall and almost imperturbable. You were a servant of the Lannisters, but Jaime rarely bossed you around. You looked deep into his eyes, looking for a hint, a glimpse... and found it; a remnant of the boy you once knew, the childhood friend you sparred with wooden swords with. The boy with mischief and connivance.

“Yes, of course, my Lord.”

Your footsteps already echoed in the somber halls when you remembered you hadn’t even brought the wine pitcher back to the kitchens.

Before you knew it, you were standing in front of Tyrion’s closed door. Years before, you had run up and down all the castle halls in search of passageways and hiding spots with a giggling Cersei on tow; yet you had never felt as lost and out of place as you did then, knuckles hovering over the wooden panel.

“Lord Tyrion, your brother asks to see you,” you called in one breath after knocking sharply. Calling the twins by their titles was disturbing enough to you; but Tyrion, brilliant and dedicated Tyrion, Tyrion you'd find reading hidden in the library and who'd blush when you asked him what his book was about—Tyrion, a Lord of Casterly Rock?

“No, he does not.”

There was nothing he didn't know. Especially when it came to his brother... and you.

“I...,” you sighed, at a loss for words. So many untold truths jostled in your throat, none eloquent enough for his bright soul. “He insisted I check up on you, sir.”

“Well I'm fine, am I not? You can go now.”

His words echoed in your skull with the strength of a thousand storms. Taking a shaky breath, you prepared to turn around and leave him... but a sudden force rumbled deep in you like a menacing earthquake. You might have been stripped of your lands and rights, you might bear the name of a traitor and a criminal, but he had been a general before he was a corpse and you had been an eldest daughter before you were a plaything. Your foot grazed the door, almost with too much violence, when you turned to face it.

“Truth be told, I wanted to check up on you as well, and to tell you that I’m bewildered at your recent behavior towards me, and that I don’t think I have done anything to deserve this shift in your attitude, and that I esteem you dearly and dared to hope that it was the same for you, and that I am frankly hurt by your sudden coldness, and that if you will not deign to tell me whatever is happening, then I will merely wish you a pleasant night and disturb you no further. Sir.”

Catching your breath, you turned on your heels before you could regret any of the words you’d just said. It would be a miracle if Tyrion managed to catch any of them clearly with how fast you had hammered them; let alone answer to them... yet as you were about to leave, the door was unbolted, and there stood a seemingly somber and preoccupied Tyrion.

“Come on in. And please, we’re alone. Don’t give me any of that “sir” crap, I know you hate it.”

And like so many times, so many years before, you stepped into Tyrion’s quarters like inside a forbidden dungeon, but it all seemed twice as small and dark as it did when you were reckless children.

The both of you remained silent for long moments, even after he had motioned for you to take a seat on the ottoman at the foot of his bed; the shadows from the fireplace projected onto his face made Tyrion’s unmoving silhouette all the more unreadable.

“Is it something I’ve done?”

“Do you wish to know why the King didn’t have your head when your father rebelled? Well — why my father didn’t?”

Your eyes widened for a split second, but your irritation barely subsided. For some reason, despite your never-ending quest for answers, the subject of your family’s treason and fate always prompted you to defensiveness when it was mentioned by others... especially by your best friend. The one who knew too much.

“What does this have to do with anything, Tyrion?”

“Everything, Y/N. It has to do with everything.”

“Enlighten me, then. You always know better than everyone else.”

Tyrion took a deep, interminable breath before continuing. It was only then that you noticed how shaky his hands were; for the first time, you read a disconcerting uncertainty on his face.

“My father knows humiliation is far worse than death, especially among Lords... and he knows how to take the most pleasant acts of revenge on his enemies. Your last name... and myself.”

You kept quiet. The puzzle was starting to piece itself together, spurred by Tyrion’s voice, low and even, albeit a little unsteady — as though the charred logs and crackling fire were confiding in you themselves...

“He’s known you since you were an infant. You were always proud and righteous, a proper Lady and a treasure to your name, but still pure and kind... all the traits I adored in you when I first met you. He knew nothing would hurt you more than stripping you of everything you had - status, respect, poise, and dignity... and your friends. He’s burying your family’s legacy under grime and filth and savoring every second of it...”

His words became progressively spaced, as though he was choosing them carefully. You hadn’t yet noticed your own hands were shaking now, too.

“And he can screw me over as well. Any chance he gets, he takes.”

His shoulders were solid and unmoving, but his words came in ragged breaths and laborious swallowing. He took a step forward, finally breaking free from the backlighting of the fireplace; his eyes were fixated on you, resolute and, despite the nervousness, more tender than ever. You remembered the expression all too well; it was the one he had worn all through the night you had talked until daylight about anything and everything... and seeing the enamored child in the man before you, you started to understand it all.

“He’s always known how much I care about you. How your presence never fails to lighten my mood and ease my worries, or how I’ve always looked for excuses to talk to you alone and catch your eye at supper. Most of all, how you’ve always given me exactly what I wanted... a chance. And he always thought it was the ultimate example of my weakness. To kick you around like an animal when I can’t do anything about it and know it’s all partly because of me is his favorite game...”

You clasped your hands together on your lap to curb your agitation. He had taken another step towards you, and you couldn’t break away from his gaze. Each of his features held more love than you’d ever known; more than when your father would ruffle your hair, or when you’d share your family tart with your brothers and smeared all the jam on their cheeks; and you couldn’t fathom how long it had taken you to discover this warm and fuzzy feeling you got whenever Tyrion was around had a simple name: home.

“Tyrion,” you spoke before the tears invaded your eyes. “Are you saying you fancy me?”

“Ah, to hell with it.”

Eyes entirely bathed in light now, he responded almost immediately and clearer than before.

“I’m saying I love you, Y/N, and that I have loved you for as long as I can remember. I first thought that I only liked your company, and admired your grace — that you were just the sister I wish I’d had, but I’ve had to face the fact that your face and voice set me afire in a way that nothing else can. I’m light and naive when you’re around... and you make me believe I have the strength they all won’t stop blabbering about. But I thought that if I could convince my father I saw nothing more in you than a whore like all the others, he would maybe let you go... maybe set you free.”

And the last confession seemed to hurt him more than everything else he had admitted that night, because it cut him right in his pride.

“I was wrong.”

An impossible soreness had taken over your throat during Tyrion's tirade, leaving you struck and mute. For a few seconds, all you could hear was the gentle hooting of the wind outside and the rapid and disjointed thumping of your heart... when you spoke eventually, it was but a hoarse whisper.

“All these years...”

“Yes.”

“And all those girls I had to see you with...”

“None of them mattered. None of them were you.”

“Why didn't you tell me, Tyrion?”

“Why would I?” he puffed with an acerbic laugh, gesturing at his frame, his scars, his cynicism and selfishness, and his wit and brilliant mind and feverish eloquence and golden eyes...

And suddenly your father's voice echoed in your head, unmistakable yet so distant, as he had spoken to you one day when you were little; he had said that angels existed in this world, closer than one might expect, and more often than not they took on unexpected forms, but once could always recognize them as they were the shiniest forces in the world around when everything was grim and black.

Maybe it was the dim lighting of the fire and moonlight that cast abstract shadows on the walls, or maybe your eyes and heart playing tricks on you, but you swore Tyrion was veiled by a pulsating halo, gold and black, that got even more radiant as he half-smiled.

When you leaned over and kissed him, you did not doubt that he truly was the angel your family tales had told you about, and maybe the only remaining angel in Westeros — because kissing him was like every star in the sky falling into place and forming new constellations, and when he grabbed your face to deepen the kiss, you were certain you felt his wings rustle.

“You have the most beautiful soul in this damn city, Tyrion,” you breathed when you finally pulled back.

Had he always looked at you with this unshakeable air of triumph and delight, or was it another trick of the light?

“If you knew how long I've waited to tell you how beautiful you are...”

“Tell me. Over and over.”

There was a smile on his face, the first genuine and devilishly charming one you'd seen in weeks when he stepped back and closed the velvet curtains.

He told you all night.

tagging; @fives-cup-of-coffee @softeninglooks (all my writing)

#writing in formal english is so hard? when it's not your first language? you're just like 'does this mean something or am i making this up'#mywriting #game of thrones #got #tyrion lannister #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones fanfic #game of thrones one-shot #got imagine #got fanfic #got one-shot #tyrion lannister imagine #tyrion lannister fanfic #tyrion lannister one-shot #tyrion lannister x reader #will spellcheck this tomorrow morning so for now have this #multifandomfix

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the-evil-authoress · 3 years

Text

GX Month Day 7: “Ojama Delta Thunder!!”

That’s right! You know what today is! Today we celebrate The Chazz, the one and only Manjoume Thunder! Give sparky boi a hug!

WE STAN SUPPORTIVE WORKPLACES IN THIS HOUSE. Also, tiny bit of Egoshipping at the end.

This monster is just over nine pages. What am I doing with my life?

“So you wanted to talk Pro stuff?”

It takes Chazz’s brain an extra minute to process the words, still reeling from the bombshell Jaden decided to drop on them tonight. Then he latches onto the chance to think about literally anything other than the fact that Jaden literally fused himself with the monster that tried to kill him! How stupid do you get?! “Yes, please, I’m desperate.”

“Alright, no need to grovel.” Aster holds a hand out to preemptively stop any further begging that admittedly would have happened. “Like I said, I’d be glad for the company.”

It’s still surreal to watch Aster be both honest and vulnerable even though Chazz has seen it a few times now thanks to these group talks Jim started. Chazz has actually seen most of his friends break down in tears at this point. This year has been a fucking trip. “Okay, what’s the catch?”

“You’ll be my assistant.”

“Sorry, what?” Chazz must not have heard that right.

“You’ll have the chance to see how the Pros work up close and personal, and I get an extra pair of hands on deck.” Aster shrug. “Win-win.”

That is absolutely not a win-win! “I’m not gonna be your lackey!”

Aster levels him a look that would be insulting enough even without the younger boy’s obvious lack of fear in the face of Chazz’s anger. “So you don’t want my help then.”

Oh this son of a- Deep breath in. Hold it. Exhale. Don’t scream bloody murder at the literal one person related to the Pro Dueling business giving Chazz the time of day. “Fine. What exactly am I expected to do?”

“You’ll be managing Aster’s schedule,” the woman says as she escorts Chazz up the elevator because Aster couldn’t be bothered to meet Chazz himself. Esmerelda, she introduced herself as, an employee of the Senrigan Group assigned to look after Aster. Purple curls spill over her shoulder and she’d be pretty if her smile wasn’t so...unnerving. Sharp green eyes bore down at him and Chazz wants to fidget in this stupid, uncomfortable suit. “Take this.” Esmerelda holds out a simple flip phone and Chazz accepts it with minimal confusion. “It’s a company phone and will be your primary method of communication.”

This gig sounds simple enough at least.

At the top floor of the company-owned skyscraper, the doors open to reveal a spacious and luxurious pad. Reminds him of home, honestly, and Chazz has to swallow down the confusing mix of emotions that brings. “I’ll be living here? Not bad.”

“Certainly not.” Esmeralda chuckles and gives Chazz a smile that - in one word - he would describe as plastic. Leading him through the entryway-living room space, she opens a door to a room that looks like a typical office space.

“That’s a lot of phones.” He stares incredulously at the appliances that line the desks.

“Of course,” Esmerelda says and Chazz finds it more than a little unnerving that she doesn’t deem it necessary to address why there are so many phones in this room. “This is your desk.” She taps a spot on the table top with an immaculate nail. “Make sure you arrive before seven.” Chazz nods and the woman leads him back out of the room to a set of narrow double doors that open onto a balcony. “You will be sleeping there.” She points down at a comparatively tiny, rustic looking building squeezed between the back of the skyscraper and the road. Is that a warehouse?

It’s a warehouse. There’s a couch and table on the landing near the door and a single bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. The power is out and a cloud of dust rises from the couch when Chazz sets his briefcase on the cushions. Sadly, this isn’t much worse than the Slifer Dorms. He’ll make it work.

“You put him where?” Aster looks up over his cup of chamomile tea, something Sartorius recommended after noticing his trouble sleeping and, like most of Sartorius’ suggestions, works fairly well. Setting the cup down, he presses his finger tips to his temple and doesn’t wait for an answer. “Esmerelda, you are evil.”

“With all due respect, sir, this boy is a Manjoume.” Esmerelda frowns, posture stiff where she sits on the other end of the couch and brows furrowed in an expression that speaks exactly how she feels about this situation. “The Manjoume Group is our biggest rival. He could be here to steal company secrets.”

“I highly doubt that,” Aster mumbles and picks his tea up again.

“To my knowledge, Chazz has an estranged relationship with his family,” Sartorius says from the armchair across the table, pencil tapping lightly against the clipboard on his lap. That paper is either Aster’s schedule or a crossword; Aster doesn’t care enough to squint. “Besides, he is a personal friend.”

Aster scoffs. “Chazz and I are not friends.”

“Friendly acquaintances then.”

“Acquaintances,” Aster corrects. “We’re just acquaintances.”

“Of course,” Sartorius agrees in that voice that implies he knows something he isn’t willing to share yet. Aster narrows his eyes at him over the cup but doesn’t press the issue. He’ll find out soon enough; Sartorius isn't that good at keeping secrets.

“Exactly,” Esmerelda presses. “Why are you sticking your neck out for him?”

Sighing, Aster sets his cup down to massage his temple once more. He knows Esmerelda means well, but she’s been watching him like a hawk even since he got back from the other dimension and Aster misses that small bit of freedom. “I don’t know. Maybe because I felt bad for him? Maybe because I wanted someone to talk about-” He lets the sentence hang and shelves the bulk of his bitterness and frustration before continuing; he doesn’t need to take it out on them. “-who actually understands.”

Esmerelda presses her lips. Sartorius stares at him with those damnably soulful eyes. Even if he could have predicted that whole fiasco, he certainly wouldn’t have been able to stop it. Aster doubts nothing short of the sun imploding could have stopped Jaden from chasing Jesse across dimensions; Aster had just been the idiot who got too close.

“It’s late.” Aster exhales wearily. “You should go home.”

Nodding, Esmerelda stands and bids him a good night. Only after the elevator has closed behind her does Aster allow himself to slump against the couch. Sartorius sets the clipboard on the table - it’s a crossword - and holds out his hand. “Shall we retire?”

“Yeah.”

It’s easy to be vulnerable around Sartorius, probably because of how long they’ve known each other, and Sartorius is still the only person Aster can completely relax around. He lets Sartorius pull him up off the couch and they head down the hallway to the bedrooms at the back of the suite.

“I’m in the next room if you need me,” Sartorius promises with his usual nightly greeting, and Aster has the distinct feeling he’ll be taking him up on that later. Today’s been stressful.

Chazz arrives at the office room at 6:55 sharp and freezes at the sight of the person already sitting there. “Good morning, Chazz,” Sartorius greets like they’re old buddies or something and not the guy who brainwashed him less than a year ago. “I trust Esmerelda already briefed you on the daily necessities.”

“No?” Chazz croaks. He’s going to be working with Sartorius? What happened to Esmerelda?

Sartorius’ expression falls into one of surprise and concern, but one of the multiple phones rings before he can respond and his attention immediately swerves. “Good morning, this is Sartorius speaking,” the man says with an uncanny level of grace and authority. Whatever is said on the other end of the line prompts him to pull up some kind of spreadsheet on the computer in front of him. Another phone rings as the conversation continues and Sartorius wordlessly directs Chazz to answer it with his hand.

“This is Weekly Duelist,” a voice chirps in his ear, a bit loud and on the edge of demanding. “Next week, could we have Aster...”

A third phone rings. Sartorius pushes a pen and paper at Chazz as he sets the first phone down and reaches for the next. “Write it down.” He’s on the next call before Chazz can ask for elaboration.

And so the morning goes. Chazz scribbles down the names of different dueling events and talk shows and gods-know-what-else that want Aster’s attention while Sartorius alternates between his own conversations and calling back the interested parties on Chazz’s list to fit them onto the spreadsheet.

Esmerelda shows up during a lull in phone calls as Sartorius walks Chazz through using the digital schedule, and Chazz’s brain is too fried from the last 2 hours of his life - has it only been 2 hours?? - to even care about the guy being in his personal space. “The first few hours of the morning are always the busiest. If you can’t confirm at the time of the call, write down the request and call back later. You must also always consider location and travel time- Oh.” Sartorius looks up abruptly. “Excuse us a moment.”

Standing, Sartorius pulls Esmerelda back out the room with him, and Chazz takes the opportunity to just sit and do nothing. A few names remain on the callback list. Should he get started on that or wait for Sartorius to return?

“You sent him in here with no instruction.” The conversation floats in from beyond the door.

“I told him to arrive before seven.”

“Before seven does not imply ‘in time to receive instruction’, Esmeralda. If you weren’t going to show him anything last night, he should have been here at least half an hour before hand.”

So that woman set him up for failure? Whatever, nothing Chazz isn’t used to. Reaching for the phone, he calls back the next event on his list. He’s got two more events scheduled before Sartorius and Esmerelda return and sits back in the chair smugly as he ends the call. Sartorius’ eyebrows rise as he glances over the schedule on his own screen.

“Well done! I’m glad to see you taking initiative.” The praise sends an odd thrill through Chazz like a half forgotten memory and he decides not to dwell on it. Sartorius turns back to Esmerelda with an almost smug grin. “And you worried.”

The woman presses her red lips together with a dismissive hum; Chazz prefers it to the plastic smile.

A tea and snack break later, Chazz finds himself fetching Aster’s clothing and duel disk - why the hell does someone need that many of the exact same thing?! - for a photo shoot, then hauling books from a truck to the table of a signing event - he didn’t know Aster wrote a book about duel philosophy. Admittedly, he’s curious - all while occasionally answering phone calls and penning new events onto his paper copy of the schedule.

The sun has set by the time he finds himself slumping back in his desk chair, Aster’s schedule neat and tidy on the spreadsheet before him. The phones have finally gone silent.

“Good work today.” Sartorius enters with a tray of soup and breadsticks and sets it on the desk adjacent to Chazz.

Chazz blinks at it. “You cook?”

Sartorius smiles. “Yes. Mizuchi and I lived alone for most of our lives, so we had to learn how to take care of ourselves.”

“Oh.” Chazz doesn’t know what to say to that so he doesn’t say anything as he reaches for the soup and spoons some of it into his mouth. It’s surprisingly good, mild, not too salty like most of the canned stuff.

“There’s an extra room up here for you,” Sartorius says and Chazz looks up sharply.

“I don’t have to stay in the warehouse?”

“Goodness, no.” Shaking his head, Sartorius presses his lips and continues at length, “I suppose Esmerelda wanted to test your resolve.” Chazz snorts. “I assure you, Aster and I did not approve.”

Didn’t stop them from letting him sleep there last night. Chazz can’t even muster the energy to glare at the man, only managing what must be a fish eyed stare. He dips the breadstick in the soup before taking a bit; oo, now that’s a good combination of flavors.

“How was your first day?” It’s still unnerving how calm and even Sartorius speaks even without the malicious undertones from the Light of Destruction.

“Exhausting,” Chazz answers without hesitation.

Sartorius chuckles. “I’ve put on some tea if you’d like to join us.”

Chazz considers this and shakes his head. “Nah, I’m gonna go get my stuff.” Still too weird, and honestly he wants nothing more than to crash in a real bed and stop existing for a few hours.

Nodding, Sartorius stands. “The room is at the far end of the hall. Mine is the second on the left if you need anything.”

Chazz really shouldn’t be surprised these two live together.

The following week is more of the same. Chazz follows Aster to all manner of events from meet-and-greets to fancy parties, always doing the heavy lifting and always answering the phone. During the precious few moments he has to breathe, Sartorius talks his ear off. The man is a surprisingly witty conversation partner and the complete opposite of Chazz’s sparse memories from the Society of Light.

“Of course I’m different.” Sartorius laughs good naturedly as Chazz curses his slip of the tongue. “That wasn’t really me, Chazz.”

No, Chazz supposes it wasn’t.

“He’s so good with people,” he mumbles, leaning on the balcony railing where they watch Aster mingle in the party below.

“Of course.” Sartorius sounds fond. “That’s what it takes to succeed. I believe you can learn a lot from watching him.”

Yeah, if Chazz can manage to find the time between everything else.

“You want me to what?”

“Organize the cards in here,” Aster repeats and Chazz baulks at the sheer number of stacks that line the shelves. “The power’s back on so that won’t be a problem. No specific deadline, just work on it when you have spare time.”

“What spare time?!”

Aster only raises his eyebrows with that unimpressed expression he’s so fond of giving, and Chazz clenches his teeth.

“Can I least get some gloves and a mask and a duster?” It’s filthy in here and Chazz doesn’t fancy breathing in whatever dust cloud he’s found to kick up.

“There should be cleaning supplies in the closet.” Aster waves a hand vaguely before turning to take his leave. “Good luck.”

A number of people make house calls with Aster; Chazz doesn’t pay much attention to them because he’s usually neck deep in phone calls and keeping Aster’s schedule straight - he does not need another double booking fiasco, thank god Sartorius had the charm to sort it out peacefully. One guy in particular, however, Chazz does get used to seeing; Mike something-or-other, a TV producer hell bent on getting Aster in on his comedy acts. Aster throws him out more than once.

“Why don’t you just cut ties with him?” Chazz asks after another such altercation. “You clearly don’t like him.”

“He’s good at what he does.” Aster frowns, annoyed if not outright angered. So are Slade and Jagger and that didn’t stop Chazz from telling them to fly a kite. Picking up his cup, Aster winces as his hand shakes and quickly sets the cup down before the tea can spill. Chazz zeros in on the movement.

“Hand,” he says, scooting over to sit by Aster on the couch without a second thought.

“What?”

Chazz doesn’t wait as he takes Aster’s hand and smooths out the joints between his own fingers before pressing gently and rubbing circles with his thumbs.

“You know massage??”

“Yeah.” Chazz still doesn’t get why everyone makes a big deal of it. This is something he’s always been able to do; used to find it weird that other people couldn’t because it felt so easy to him. A natural skill or whatever. “Jesus fuck,” the English expletive slips past his lips as he feels the knots and strained muscles in Aster’s hand. “I’m cancelling meet-and-greets and signing events for a while.”

“Excuse me?”

“So your hand can heal,” Chazz cuts Aster off before the other can work himself into righteous indignation. “You can’t duel without your draw hand. Two weeks of minimal activity and you should be fine. But we should tape this. Do you have a first aid-”

A white kit with a red cross hovers in the peripheral of Chazz’s vision. He stares dumbly up at Sartorius as Aster huffs with amusement. Cautiously, Chazz takes it. “Can you still see the future or something?”

“Predict,” Sartorius corrects as he takes his usual seat in the arm chair. “And not all predictions are accurate.”

“Riiiight.” Just gonna ignore that piece of information for now then. Chazz pulls the ace wrap out of the kit and turns back to Aster’s hand. “Tell me if it’s too tight.”

Maybe he’s imagining it, but there might be a sliver more respect in Aster’s eyes when Chazz finishes wrapping his hand and a tiny, genuine smile on his face.

This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening!

Aster’s going to lose his entire career just because one lousy card went missing?!

Chazz paces back and forth across the warehouse floor, gnawing on his fingernails. The cards have all been organized - monster, trap, spell, then by type, archetype, and alphabetical. Chazz could point exactly to which box a single card is in, but the one card apparently more important that Aster’s fucking career disappears from right under his nose!

They even know who took it! They have photos from the security camera! But they can’t prove shit because the bastard was smart enough to keep his face covered and away from the camera! If they can’t prove it, they can’t get the card back! And then Aster-

“Boss, breathe!” Ojama Yellow squeals. “I think you're having an angry attack!”

“Anxiety attack!” Chazz screams, suddenly aware of just how rapid and shallow his breath has gotten. Geez, he sounds like Jaden after-

JADEN!

Chazz dives for his school-issued PDA, yanks up the contacts, and rapidly taps his foot against the floor as he waits for the other end of the line to pick up. He dials twice before getting an answer.

“What?”

“Jaden, I need your help!”

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” The other boy sounds groggy and disheveled.

No, Chazz has absolutely no idea what time it is in Japan, he is on the side of the globe and that’s not important right now! “Listen! I need you and your freaky powers for help with something!”

Silence. The line clicks dead.

“DID YOU JUST HANG UP ON ME?” Chazz screams into the empty warehouse. It takes three more tries to get Jaden back on the line.

“And why should I help you?”

“SERIOUSLY? Wait.” Something about Jaden’s voice sounds off. The cadence? “Yubel? This is Yubel isn’t it? Put Jaden on the line! I don’t want you!”

“Jaden is asleep as I was before you so rudely interrupted me and will be returning to now,” Yubel snips.

“WAIT!” Chazz screeches before she can hang up again. He doesn’t need to waste any more time on callbacks. “Never mind! I just need help! Aster needs help!”

The silence on the other end stretches long enough that Chazz fears the monster already hung up. “I’m listening.”

Chazz doesn’t even question it when Jaden tumbles out of the shadows onto the warehouse floor, grumbling about fudged landings and never being at locations before, just snaps at him to hide the wings and drags him up to Aster’s apartment. “I brought help!” he announces as they barge in.

Aster’s head snaps up and Chazz watches the scathing remark die on his tongue as his eyes fall on Jaden. “Oh. That’s an idea.”

“Okay, what the hell is going on?” Jaden walks fearlessly up to the trio. “Cuz I got the basics from Yubel, but details would be nice.”

“Yubel?” Esmerelda asks with a weary glance between Jaden and Chazz.

Jaden blanks at her then turns away dismissively. “Not important.”

Aster tosses the security photos onto the table between them. “This is the guy who took the card. Mike, a TV producer who’s been trying to get me to go along with his comedy gimmick for weeks now. We know it’s him but these photos won’t hold up in court.”

Picking the photos up, Jaden holds his chin thoughtfully. “So you just need me to get this card back?”

“And maybe some proof that this guy stole it,” Chazz adds quickly, trying not to cringe as Aster’s eyes flicker over to him, but the pro silently nods his agreement.

“Alright. I’ll see what I can do.” Setting the photos back on the table, Jaden glances at the elevator, makes a face, and walks straight for the balcony. They all watch in confused silence until Jaden leaps off the balcony railing.

Esmerelda screams. “Is he insane?!”

Even Chazz charges toward the balcony, leaning over the edge in terror, only to find Jaden standing calmly on the sidewalk below like he didn’t just jump off the top floor of a fucking skyscraper!

“How?!” Esmerelda gapes, gripping the railing with white knuckles.

“I’m not even gonna question it.” Aster waves a hand as he returns indoors. Sartorius chuckles quietly, the only person who hadn’t made a mad dash after the reckless idiot.

Chazz sinks to the balcony floor, waiting for his heart to finally get the memo that they don’t need to be freaking out anymore. Gods above help them all...

Jaden gets the card back and manages to publicly humiliate Mike in the process. Win-win.

At the end of Chazz’s ‘employment’, Aster challenges him to an official PR duel. It’s the first time Chazz has gotten to seriously break out his deck in a while and he fears he’ll be rusty, but the plays come to him easier than they ever had. Oh, he gets it now. When he organized all the cards in the warehouse, he read each one’s effect; he thought about how to play them and combo them with each other. Aster’s deck is easy to read and Chazz pulls off a spectacular win.

Amidst the cheers, Aster holds out his hand. “Nice work. Guess you did learn a thing or two.”

Riding the adrenaline high, Chazz pulls him straight into a hug. Aster grunts, going rigid before awkwardly patting his back.

“Maybe not in front of the cameras.”

Chazz immediately backpedals. “Right! Sorry!” There’s an odd expression in Aster’s eyes as they shake hands properly this time.

“Sartorius. I have another problem.”

Sartorius sniggers as Aster predictably sinks into the seat next to him, flipping over the cards in his game of solitaire. “Oh, I don’t think this one is a problem,” he says with confidence, this morning’s card reading still fresh in his mind. “You should ask him out.”

It takes a second. “SARTORIUS!” Aster pushes away from the table, looking positively scandalized. “I don’t have time for a social life let alone a romantic one!”

Humming, Sartorius places a card on its designated stack. “I’m sure you can make the time. After all, you’ve been making time to visit Duel Academy quite frequently of late.”

“For my mental health!” Aster goes on the defensive, but there’s no denying the hint of flush on his cheeks. “And that's not the point! I don’t care if you read it in cards, I’m not just randomly asking him out!”

Sadly, Sartorius knows half of Aster’s reluctance to the idea is because the media would have a field day with any celebrity’s love life, let alone one with...less conventional preferences. That will not, however, prevent Sartorius from teasing his best friend. “How would you prefer to ask him out then?”

With a frustrated whine, Aster glares at Sartorius. “Not at all.”

“That’s a lie.”

“Shut up.”

#gxmonth2021 #chazz princeton #manjoume jun #aster phoenix #sartorius kumar #jaden yuki #egoshipping #ygo gx #yugioh gx #yu gi oh gx #long post

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dorki-c · 3 years

Text

My Guardian Demon |Chapter 1, Part 2: Two Dreams

Relationship: Izuku Midoriya X (Reader)

Rating: 16+

A/N: Hey! Hey! Hey! Everybody! I just wanted to let you all know that in the beginning of this series like prologue story arc wise, I will only be highlighting the main points of said story arc.

TW: Suffocation and depiction of injury!

[Masterlist] [<--- Previous| Next --->]

(Song reccomendation for this chapter: Feeling Good by Michael Bublé)

PROMPT QUESTION FOR THIS STORY ARC: Are all demons ‘bad’?

When leaving the school gates with a silent warning that he gave to (y/n), there were a few minor details bothering him when traversing through the empty streets leading home.

At least he was able to walk alone to clear the commotion of todays events.

Sure, Izuku was used to Bakugou’s harassment towards him. For the most part, his mind always filtered out the nasty phrases that were thrown at him for the longest time.

However, what Bakugou had said was completely out of line.

Telling Izuku to commit suicide? Wow, what a great friend he was (if you could even call him that…).

Though the green-haired boy could easily say that about (y/n) as well. Even though its him and his stupid demon against society.

Was he sure that something may happen today? No, absolutely not. Even when turning a corner of the semi-suburban area that was closest to Aldera Junior High school, Izuku isn’t clairvoyant to anything that involves him.

Nope, not at all.

Even when making his way under the dark tunnel (to which he ignores his demon trying to hold him back from going in there, saying something along the lines of “W-w-wait! I don’t want to go down this way…”), Izuku still holds his head up high and ventures down the tunnel.

Like I said before, the green-haired boy isn’t clairvoyant that involves around him.

Plus, that shouldn’t exempt him from being cautious about what might lurk in the shadows.

Until this point, (y/n) only spoke in short sentences, though the only thing that caught Izuku off guard was the shaky utterance of “Izuku…L-Look behind you!”

He regrets looking behind him; A thing manifesting as a large murky green glob, paired with two large eyes and razor layered teeth (that scarcely resembled shark teeth), loomed over the 14 year old’s body.

I-I-It’s a villain!

As soon as Izuku blinked, one moment he was free and scrambling to his feet (fearful of the sludge villain) and the next, his body was trapped in something slimy… The green sludge body dripped with viscous thick globs as it wrapped like a vice around the boy. With a waterfall of pleading cut short and shown through desperate green eyes as Izuku squirmed annoyingly to the villain, there was no chance of escaping because he would be dead “in a minute” tops.

In a vain attempt to free Izuku from the grasps of the villain, the demon’s futile attempts to scratch away at the slime, only resulted in their misty hands to pass through the slime like their hand was non-existent.

Fuck—If a damn hero isn’t going to save Izuku, then it has to be his demon’s duty to do so.

Though it’s quite challenging for (y/n) to grip Izuku’s shoulders and pull him forward, it doesn’t have enough energy to stall for time.

Was fate cursing (y/n) again? The sun was up high in the sky, yet it always deceived the unguarded and weakest of them all. Didn’t it? If it wasn’t for the saving grace of a frisbee object hitting the villain in the eye, the sludge villain recoiled backwards and (thankfully) released its hostage, where the boy’s limp body met face first into the pavement.

Staying close to Izuku’s unconscious body, (y/n) watched as the pro-hero blatantly invaded their owner’s space and didn’t hear their screeching of something along the words of “DISGUSTING!!!” and “AAAAAAAH BEGONE! BEGONE! BEGONE!!” And the boy wasn’t woken up because of the cheek slaps, it was because of (y/n)’s obnoxious protests of the pro-hero’s cheek slaps.

Let’s not forget the loudest sigh released by the demon when one, Izuku (finally) woke himself up, and two, when that (god forsaken flimsy, annoying, outrageous) hero, was actually the number 1 hero, has retracted his hand from the demon’s owner.

(And (y/n) definitely called the number one hero “a filthy maggot that is followed by an equally filthy contra-” before they were tuned out of Izuku’s ears.)

“Ah! Thought we lost you there!” Announced the hero (to nobody in particular).

This, unfortunately, caused Izuku to pale- where it practically looked like his whole face lost all of its colour, including his eyes- and for (y/n) to think (if they even have thoughts in the first place…) that if there was a camera pointed straight at their face, it would show the most horrifying deadpanned expression on the demon’s non-existent face which would break the camera lens.

Screaming and scampering backwards, Izuku only managed to utter the words “C-C-CAN I HAVE AN AUTOGRAPH!!” before seeing his notebook (which was coincidently fish food a couple of minutes ago) signed by the hero and bowing to said hero out of gratefulness, although knowing their owner; (y/n) figured that Izuku would obviously cherish this autograph as a ‘family heirloom’.

(Izuku may or may not have blurted that out in the moment. Oh well. You can’t take everything you say back.)

“I have a question…” Murmured the green haired boy as the hero turned tail to “deliver this villain to the police station!” Sadly, the hero didn’t hear him and was about to leave the boy, where his demon was shaking their head in disappointment- “Why bother asking him?” Whispered (y/n), leaving the faint trace of their empty temperature to scarcely brush his cheek, “The man in front of you is a mere façade of bravery.” - it’s not like Izuku cares about his demon’s opinion.

Even when it’s in situations like this.

(And by situations, I mean when Izuku and his demon are clutching for dear life on the infamous hero’s legs when flying more than fifty feet above the ground.)

Looking below his feet, Izuku is always reminded that great power also has a greater price to it.

And well, All Might would probably agree (if it weren’t for being airborne).

Additionally, why did it look like you were enjoying him scream in fear for his life, when you know that if he dies, you die too.

(Was his demon secretly a sadist?!)

The landing was rocky and rough, but at least his feet managed to stand on their own after a few moments of wobbling and the small rub of your hand against his to beckon him to stand “tall and proud for being uniquely him”.

Glancing towards the hero, (y/n) scoffed in disgust at the retreating soldier whereas Izuku only begged him to “Wait,” continuing along with an unspoken prayer casted off to the sky and “one second!” to remain.

“No!”

It’s typical of a hero to say that word, but situations like this aren’t.

“I don’t have any time.” --- “I have to know!” --- “Why do you bother with him, Izuku?”

The years of quirklessness weren’t new to him. Though he wanted more.

“Even if everyone thinks I’m useless…” Izuku wanted more fulfilment for himself.

“Despite what anybody thinks.” (Y/n) wanted freedom for themself.

“I need to know.” The two of them had dreams.

“Is It possible to become a hero, without a quirk?” Even with a fearless grin, the man before the aftermath was the symbol of peace.

Well to put it simply, the embodiment of peace was secretly a human coat hanger. Now, how would the murky red demon and green haired boy react to said human coat hanger?

Uh…Yeah, they’re both screaming; Izuku was doing it out of horror, (y/n) was doing it out of disgust.

(This is a typical occurrence.)

“WHERE’S ALLMIGHT?!” The worn-down skeleton of a man looked like a couple of popsicle sticks were stuck together with Elmer’s glue as the artist called it a day. Looking left to right, then again, and finally- just for good luck- glanced left and right, as society always said, “Third time is the charm”.

“You! You’re not him!” Izuku profoundly screeched, where in fact both his demon and scrawny adult rolled their eyes. “Izuku, you don’t even have his birth certificate to prove that he—” Though poor (y/n) got cut off by Allmight proclaiming “You know how guys at pools like to suck in their muscles and flex at the same time?” The flaxen haired male then said “I’m kind of like that…” which did nothing to soothe the teenager’s shock.

“What! No! Allmight isn’t some scrawny—old—depressed looking human being!” Oh boy, your owner was as stubborn as an old mule.

“Izuku, stop what your—” Again, (y/n) was cut off by another person, “All Might’s is a hero with a fearless grin who beats every obstacle!”

“Kid, there’s plenty of fear behind a smile. Don’t be fooled.” The rustling of a white shirt caught the attention of the demon and human alike. And what it revealed…well…it was pretty nauseating.

“Pretty gross, isn’t it?”

The merged sickening stitching of skin pulled together in a makeshift attempt to preserve as the hero’s body, at the epicentre of the wound was a thick encircled glob of pink that seemed to allow an abundance of conjoined violet speckles to extend outwards in an attempt to infect the rest of his body.

“I got this in a fight around five years ago.” Relaxing his body, and moving the shirt downwards, the hero continued, “My respiratory system was destroyed, I lost my stomach, and the rest is history.” Even if his shitty joke didn’t lift the depressing tone of reality, all Izuku could do is stand there in shock—maybe a tad bit of horror— however he would’ve never thought that the one and only top hero of Japan had an injury!

(Izuku’s naïve thinking always rubbed his demon the wrong way sometimes.)

“W-wait! Does that mean Toxic Chainsaw gave you this injury!” Chuckling and turning his glance to the side, All Might shook his head. “I’m impressed, you know your stuff- however, that punk couldn’t land a couple hits on me, even if they wanted to.” “Most of the world wouldn’t have known about this fight, regardless of how much you dug through any news articles.”

(And most of the world would’ve never known about the deadly purple miasma growing on their precious hero’s body.) .

“This job isn’t easy, and to be nice—” At least Izuku would listen to All Might, whereas he ignored you at least 50% of the time, “—I think you would be better off picking a better profession, like a Police officer!”

------------------------------------------

“I mean he is right…” (Y/n) said to Izuku, as they continued their trek back home, with the boy loathful to agree at the red mist’s statement.

“Heroism isn’t easy.” Maybe he should give up his dream?

“You saw how disgusting his wound was.” He could be horribly injuried like All Might if he tries. “It’s practically oozing with miasma.” But Izuku can’t bring himself to give up his dream.

And if Izuku ever asked you to give up your dream of freedom, you would answer back with defiance.

“I know it isn’t easy (y/n).”

“I know I could die or get a wound like that.”

“But I’m not giving up on my dream, if you aren’t going to give up on yours.”

Alas, the gloriously golden sun highlighted the features of the old dusk that was soon turning into their new dawn.

(And might I say, if society got in their way, they will pay their dues the hard way.)

Taglist:

@glitterfreezed, @izukubabe, @sweater-weather-seven, @nyanyabisjjj, @quietlegends, @dragonsdreamoffire, @candybabey, @honeylavender13

CREDITS:

All content and art used within this story belongs to their respective owners. PLAGARISM WILL NOT BE TOLERATED!

Art credits: Dorki-C and @glitterfreezed

[MASTERLIST OF “My Guardian Demon”] [MAIN MASTERLIST]

#Izuku midoriya bnha #Izuku midoriya mha #Izuku midoriya #Izuku midoriya x y/n #Mha Au #Bnha au #Toshinori Yagi #Toshinori Yagi mha #All Might bnha #All Might mha #mha x reader #Mha x y/n #bnha x y/n #bnha x reader #Izuku Midoriya X Reader

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infinitegalahad · 3 years

Text

RAY IN THE BATHROOM

Summary: Ray is hiding in a bathroom and has a panic attack over the fact that his only real friend and the love of his life has (supposedly) left him for Brad.

Word-Count: 2.1k

Warnings: References of suicidal thoughts, ptsd, and severe anxiety. Brad is a semi-asshole. Hop on the angst train (with fluff at the end!)

A/N: I was listening to Be More Chill because let's just say that I can heavily relate to Micheal In The Bathroom due to recent events in my life. So then again, what better way to cope then using my biggest kin, Ray Person, in a totally not self indulgent fic?? Also as for the prompt requests-i'm working on them! Sorry, school has been bad. I'm keeping a promise to myself to release at least once a a week and I'm on a gen kill rampage. Idk what else to add so enjoy!

Taglist: @theboardwalkbody

Masterlist | Send In A Prompt!

Ray doesn’t expect himself to be hanging in the bathroom at their first year reunion. But instead of “hanging”, he’s hiding. Those emotions that never come out are now coming back to haunt him. Ray knows he can't hide behind a shit eating grin and sunglasses. He leaned up against the tub inside of the cramped room, his sunglasses tucked into the neck of his polo as tears sting his eyes.

Ray’s legs felt numb and he knows if he looks into the mirror and sees his flushed face and eyes, he won’t be able to conceal his crying. He’s not able to go back outside and would prefer to fake pee or just check his phone in the bathroom.

“C’mon brah!” Q-tip whined like a child, crossing his legs. “This hurts like a butt cheek on a stick”

“You can’t come in!” Ray yelled as he held back a sob, “The little man is going. Suck it up, buttercup.”

Q-tip had been knocking on the door for over ten minutes before giving up and choosing to pee outside. Ray let out a shaky sigh and fell onto the thin side of the bathtub, biting his lip and he batted his wet eyes with his palms.

Ray and y/n had been an unexpected trio. Partners in crime, double trouble, you went well together despite their differences. You were an educated college student and he was a whiskey tango mess who couldn’t shut his mouth for the life of it. You cried, laughed, and did everything together. Little known to y/n, Ray didn’t have a crush on her-but he was more than in love.

However, when Ray is having severe social anxiety, an event he would typically rely on y/n to help him with, his “partner in crime” falls short. Ray knows that y/n is light years better than him. Here was the smartest and most beautiful woman he had met next to a college dropout who didn’t make it past Geometry.

Now the “perfect pair” is severed, leaving one half alone in the bathroom.

Ray’s forgotten how long he’s been in the bathroom for. These types of events always felt forced, and everyone knew that. Whenever that awkwardness would arise, Ray and y/n would choose to ditch and steal a few beers and sit in the bathtub, watching an obscure eighties film in the dark, cramped room with Ray’s god awful commentary.

But even though Ray has Born American downloaded, he can’t bring himself to watch it. Now he’s laying in the bathtub, picking at grout as he softly grieves. He’s hiding in there while y/n is ignoring all of their history.

Ray first arrived at the party, making a dramatic entrance. He made sure everybody knew that he was there, especially y/n. His original plan was to wear a purple tux he had snatched from walamrt since it was ugly as fuck, and Ray knew that. But knowing that you were going to be there, Ray made an attempt with an expensive navy polo and khaki shorts, courtesy of Nate.

Upon seeing you, Ray ran over from whatever he was doing to talk to you. Whether you were OD’S or a casual jumpsuit, you looked dead drop gorgeous-and Ray never knew how to express his affections. So he pulled you into a hug and muttered a shitty joke, and you just laughed.

Over the course of the next hour, the two of you catched up about your mundane lives. It made Ray feel guilty since he knew that you were better than him in every way possible, on the road of success. Your future sounded like you would go to some fancy school and then marry a lawyer. Ray wanted to be good for you, but he didn’t know how to at all. He followed you around like a lost puppy for the rest of the party, feeling a tinge of jealousy whenever one of the guys would give you a chaste hug or when you wouldn't pay attention to him for five minutes.

Ray didn’;t know why the fuck eh was feeling so sappy. It wasn’t like the two of you were dating (even though that’s exactly what he wanted).

Ray doesn’t hate Brad, but he just hates whenever he talks to you. He sees the two of you, smiling and laughing as you catch u[. Ray knows it’s rude, but he buds in and offers to get drinks for the “three amigos”. You kindly accept and Ray goes away to get drinks. He makes sure to spit inside of Brad’s drink as a childish act of revenge.

As Ray walks down the hallway balancing the three drinks, he pauses to hide behind the door since he hear’s Brad mention his name. You and Brad had moved to the couch, sitting too close for Ray’s comfort levels. He had an arm slung over the couch, which was barely touching you, but Ray had taken it as an offense.

Standing by the doorway and leaning, he overheard Brad’s words.

“Ray’s a little shit, whiskey tango loser, sister fucking, type of man. I don’t know what you see in him,” Brad had casually said, cold and straight to the point. He truly lived up to his name.

That’s when Ray dropped the drinks and ran towards the bathroom. He didn’t hear you respond, and that was the last thing he needed to hear.

Now Ray’s sitting in the tub, no longer holding tears back, but there coming out. A sob escapes his mouth and he tries to smile, but he can’t. He gets a taste of his salty tears and tries to stop the waterworks, but they come back, bigger and faster. It’s been a while since he had a good cry-but it happened at one of the most inconvenient times. And it was over a stupid girl-who he coulnd’t deny that he was in love with.

But y/n was lightyears ahead of him. Besides, Brad was (seemingly) a better fit for her. The scenario began to play in Ray’s wild mind. The memories of “double trouble” will get erased. Their wedding will be small, paid for by the Colberts. Q-Tip will DJ, Godfather will make a speech with his horrid voice, and Ray will make a shitty joke as usual. Worst had come to the worst.

Ray hears a drunk Q-tip sing along through the door to “I wanna dance with somebody”. His feelings sink even deeper cause it makes him think; now there’s no one to make fun of drunk girls with anymore. That was y/n’s favorite hobby about these forced get-togethers.

Ray knew that at some point, he’d be forced to come out. As he chokes back the incoming tears, he waits until his face becomes dry, planning to blame it on weed or something in his eyes or the five bud lights he regrets drinking.

Knock, knock, knock, knock

Ray looks up and wipes his face, forcing a fake laugh. “Oh hell yeah, I'll be out soon.”

“Ray, it’s me.” It’s y/n’s voice, and Ray can’t believe it’s her. A part of him wants her to come in, but the other part wants him to defend himself.

“Why do you want me to come out when you can hang out with your new big strong viking? Who talks all educated and shit since you just love being around him.” Ray spits out with a few sniffles.

Based on his words and the sniffles, you can tell something is clearly wrong.

You shake your head and lightly knock again, “Please, that’s not what happened. Brad’s an idiot, and we’re just friends. “Please, come out.”

Ray got out from the tub and came close to the door, feeling your frantic breathes again the door. “My biggest mistake was showing up. I wished I stayed up watching cable porn, or I offered myself. Besides, he’s better for you. Just go away.”

Hearing him say such things made you worry even more, afraid that he could do something to himself that he’d regret.

“Ray, open the damn door. Don’t say dumb shit.” You pleaded, frantically twisting the door knob. The worry was evident in your voice.

“No, fuck you! Fuck this whole place. You’re smart; just leave me alone.” Ray banged against the door as tears came down his face. He immediately regretted his choice of words, knowing that they would hurt you. He turned away to return to the bathtub, only to stop when he heard you now sniffling.

Mega fuck.

Ray reluctantly walks back to the door and opens it, to see your face, all red and wet like this. Both of you stood there, disheveled, tears both running down your face.

Not a single word was spoken between the two of you as you ran into his arms, pulling him close as you cried into his chest. Ray used his foot to slam the door shut and then proceeded to pull you into a bearhug, stroking the back of your head as he comforted you through your sobs.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” He repeated as his tears stained your shoulder as well, “I didn’t-fuck. I’m such a retar-” He froze, knowing that you hated that word. “Idiot. I just-fuck. Don’t cry. You’ll ruin all the stuff on your face-”, Ray said as he tilted your face up and started to wipe your tears.

“Makeup. ‘S fine, I’m not wearing much. I just didn’t wanna get mistaken for a middle schooler again.”

Ray and you both let out a chuckle in the midst of your shared crying session. He’s still wiping the tears from your face as you rest your arms on his waist.

“First time we met, y’know. Godfather thought you had a dick for a long time.” Ray added, which earned another laugh from you.

You shook your head, “Remember when Trombley found out I was a girl?”

“Looked like he was about to shit himself-he wouldn’t leave you alone.”

“Ugh, ‘s a nightmare.” The two of you filled the void with the awakened laughter you shared. Ray’s tiny hands moved to your chin, directing it slightly up.

“I still think you’re pretty hot either way, angel.” Ray confessed. The two of you looked at each other for a minute, seeing the love and pupils widen in both of your eyes. Standing on your toes, you and Ray’s lips gently pecked at each other. You could taste the bud light on his lips as Ray’s lips overpowered yours, gently cupping and sucking passionately.

“Fuck,” Ray breathed through the kiss as your foreheads touched, “I love you.”

“Shit, I’ve been waiting for you to say that,” You chuckled as your finger’s played with Ray’s dark hair. It’s gotten longer, and it’s at a length where he can awkwardly style it, but since Ray is Ray-it’s a mess, “I love you too. I’m sorry about Brad, you know how he is.”

“I just thought you and him were having a moment. I just started overthinking it since I thought you didn't wanna be around me. Which is chill, I was vibing,” Ray attempted to joke, which was a way to cope with his pain.

You shake your head and hold his face to reassure him. Ray looks down at you in awe, which makes a smile curve on your lips.

“Brad wasn’t touching me, he just was stretched out on the couch. Ray, don’t say that. You were in the bathroom for over an hour. I knew that you were ethier upset or having explosive diarrhea from Nate’s vegan casserole-or both.”

“That shit was beyond nasty. I bet he got all the ingredients at Trader joes and sold his soul just to buy it.” Ray quickly quipped.

“Jesus, don’t make me vomit.” You huffed as you looked at the bathtub, “Now are you gonna come out now without beating up someone?”

“Yes babycakes, as long as you do one thing.”

Cringing, you force a smile. It’s not because you don’t love him, but sometimes what comes out of his mouth can be questionable. “Yes Ray?”

He grabs your hand, which fits right into his. “Gotta show the homies who’s the alpha around here.”

You don’t mind holding Ray’s hand. You like the tight squeezes and the feel of his soft skin. As the two of you walk out of the bathroom back into the life of the party with the smell of barbeque and the august heat in the air.

“Oh god Ray, shut up.”

Ray simply responds with a goosey laugh.

#ray person #ray person x reader #ray person imagine #generation kill #generation kill x reader #generation kill imagine #carrie writes #tw suicide #tw ptsd #tw severe anxiety

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galactic-magick · 4 years

Text

You Know I’ll Always Protect You: Agnes x Reader

Request: could you write an Agnes x female reader with the prompts 3, 11 and 17. She's one of my favourites and a comfort character. I was thinking about the reader being insecure and Agnes trying to help her. - @nyx-aira

Summary: Agnes supports you through your insecurities, and you both help the committee plan the next fundraiser event.

Words: 1000+

Warnings: a swear word I think, fem reader

Author’s Notes: Absolutely zero period typical homophobia because I said so. Idc that it’s the 50s-70s nobody blinks an eye at Agnes and her lovely wife thank you hehe

Even though you’ve lived in Westview for what feels like forever, you’ve never really felt right here. You have everything you could ever want, a loving wife, some kind (yet strange) neighbors, and a beautiful town to call home. But you can’t help but feel insecure about your place here, not looking as good as everybody else, not being friends with the right people, not contributing enough to the community.

“Are you ready to go, dear?” Agnes comes back into the bedroom to you messing with your appearance.

You sigh, pulling a bobby pin from your hair, “I can’t do this, Aggie. Every time we go to these committee meetings I feel like everyone hates me,”

“Nonsense, dear! Just nod and smile and we’ll be fine,” she kisses your cheek and takes your hand.

“No, it’s not us, it’s just me,” you say. “Everyone likes you, Aggie. You’re funny and beautiful and always know what to say and I…just don’t,” you lean on the dresser, “I’m surprised Dottie hasn’t kicked me out yet,”

“Pssshhh, who cares about Dottie?”

“Literally everyone in this town,”

Agnes chuckles, “She’s a bitch, alright? The only reason I hang out with her at these stupid things is so I can get free food and alcohol and a bunch of gossip,”

You laugh at that, finally breaking a smile.

“Look, honey, if you really don’t want to go, we don’t have to. But you know I’ll always protect you from anyone who puts ya down,”

“Thank you,” you nod. “I…I think I’ll go then,”

“Well in that case we better go so we’re not late,” she takes your hand and heads downstairs and out the door.

Your neighbor Wanda is on her way out as well when you walk by, and she joins you.

“Wanda! What have you been up to?” Agnes asks.

“Oh, you know, just your average things…normal people things,”

“That’s what they all say,” Agnes laughs. “What did you bring for dessert? Isn’t it your turn to bring something?”

“Oh goodness!” Wanda gasps. “I completely forgot!”

“I actually baked some cookies yesterday you could bring if you’d like,” you pipe up. “I made a lot of batches so there should be enough for everyone,”

“Oh would you? You’re too kind,”

“How about you come with me and we can grab them, I’ll catch up with you, hun,” you give you wife’s hand a squeeze before letting go and heading back to your house with Wanda.

You arrange all the cookies on a couple large plates, handing one to Wanda.

“Thank you so much, you really didn’t have to cover for me,”

“It’s no problem, really!”

You walk together a couple blocks down to the usual meeting spot, chatting a bit as you go. You’re incredibly glad to have a friend like Wanda, since she’s struggled with fitting in as you have. Honestly, there’s probably more rumors going around about her and her husband than there are about you, but the insecurity you both feel bonds you on occasions like this.

You set down the plates on the nearby table and sit next to Agnes, trying to smile away any weird looks you’re getting from your tardiness.

“Excuse me, is there a reason you felt the need to interrupt me?” Dottie sneers.

“I’m so sorry-“

Wanda cuts you off, “It was my fault, I needed Y/N’s help carrying the snack for today,”

“Did I say I cared why?”

Wanda sits down and keeps quiet, but you’re able to meet her gaze to give her a silent “thanks for covering for me” look.

“Now, who has any ideas for this month’s fundraiser for the local hospital?”

“Oh-“ someone starts.

“Not you,”

“We could-“

“Not you either,”

“How about a carnival?” Geraldine suggests.

“Hmmm, go on,” Dottie nods.

“Well, we have a bunch of spare land on the edge of town that rarely gets used, maybe we could have a ferris wheel and some games and food stands,”

“Interesting,” Dottie sets down her glass. “Not the worst idea I’ve heard today, I suppose. We’ll hold it next weekend. Wanda?”

“Yes?”

“You find out where we can rent a ferris wheel and get it here,”

“How am I supposed to-“

“Agnes and Y/N? You take care of the games,”

“Oh! Okay,” you agree, barely processing the task you’ve been given.

“Geraldine? You book all the best restaurants and food trucks in town,”

“I’ll try my best,” she laughs.

You and Agnes spend the entire next week coming up with and building different game booths, most of them simple but a few more complicated. You also pick up a bunch of fun prizes from the store for people to win, as well as some random stuff around the house you don’t use anymore.

“This is going to be wonderful, darling,” Agnes grins, helping you push the cart of all the stuff from the car to the carnival. You can already see the ferris wheel and smell the amazing food from here.

A few people offer to help you set everything up, and soon enough everything’s ready for the rest of the town to enjoy.

You grab Agnes’s hand and run for the ice cream truck, hoping to grab some before the line gets too long.

You both order your favorites and head for the ferris wheel, waving at Wanda and Vision as you fly by. It’s small one, but you’re sure it’ll still be fun.

Sliding into your seat, you lean against Agnes and continue licking your ice cream. The ride starts with a jolt, clicking and cranking into motion slowly but surely.

“Oh honey, you’ve got it all over your face,” Agnes snickers.

“Hmmm?” you turn to her.

It’s a wonder you didn’t notice, but somehow you’ve gotten ice cream smears in several places besides your mouth. Agnes grabs a handkerchief from her pocket and wipes it away.

“I hate that you’re cute,”

“How much do you hate it?” you giggle.

“Oh goodness, so much. I can’t believe I’m married to someone as cute as you,”

You hum, taking the last bite of the ice cream cone, “Can I still kiss you?”

“Sheesh, darling, as if you have to ask,” she takes your chin and captures you in a kiss just as you reach the top of the ferris wheel. “I love you,”

“I love you too,” you say, grinning against her lips.

#wandavision #agnes #agnes x reader #wandavision spoilers #wanda vision #wanda vision spoilers #agatha harkness

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smilingperformer · 3 years

Text

Discussing the good and bad of Pokémon Journeys: Part “Chloe”

Time to discuss about the character that is still keeping me on board with watching Pokémon (2019)/Journeys despite having, cough, some issues with it. Let's talk about Chloe, also known as Koharu.

TLDR; I like how Koharu is handled so far, even if I somewhat wish there was more of her, and I believe I know what the intention with her is, and that is to show that the journey to finding your dream goal can be an exciting one and with possible obstacles on the way towards it. More under the cut, Journeys abverted as JN.

So. Let's start with how I became to like her character the moment JN002 aired, but also how her debut in JN001 has become interesting part of how Koharu used to love Pokémon, but then grew out of it. Which to me, reminds of people who grew with playing Pokémon games, cards, etc, but then as they got older, they grew out of it.

Anyway, as we all probably remember, both Gou and Koharu attended the Okido Camp as kids, where BOTH of the eventually meet Mew. From the very beginning, we're let known that Koharu is a daughter of a promising Professor Sakuragi, who's acquainted with Okido.

And we're also let known that the two are friends from before the camp, and I assume their games at Sakuragi's Lab involved playing as Pokémon or other stuff. She most definitely loved Pokémon and her dad's work back then.

But then when we fastforward to the present day as Satoshi, Gou and Koharu are all 10 years old, we see that this attitude has changed in Koharu. She's no longer interested in Pokémon that much, and the only Pokémon she accepts near her is their family 'mon Wanpachi. For me, this was very interesting approach, even if the "not interested in Pokémon" was done before with May/Haruka back in Advanced Generation series.

Even with this interesting approach, she was a side/supporting cast instead of main cast, which honestly felt weird to me as she definitely had a story to tell. But as I've been watching other shows lately, I kinda came to realise her approach reminds me of mid-season additions to cast, even thou her appearances nowdays are just a BIT more frequent, when before her joining the Research Fellows, she appear very seldomly.

Anyway. In JN011 we finally learn that, she pretty much has issues with people's expectations and how everyone assumes her to be very much involved with Pokémon just because of her dad's work. Truly, this would end up affecting her affection towards Pokémon, thou it's possibly not the whole reason for losing interest. She even admits here she's not sure of what she truly wants to do yet.

It's no secret that I'm a huge fan of goal finding journeys, as they are very relatable to me as someone who took 20+ years to find out what I truly want to do for living, so Koharu wanting to find something instead of other people deciding it for her is very good lesson.

So what exactly is the approach with Koharu from this ep forward? Showing her see Pokémon in different, totally new lights, figuratively speaking. She's shown to take care of a Pidove who broke its wing in a runaway flight, helped her lil brother Sota's friend, Nami, attend to a small children's Contest, and went to a Fossil Exhibition with Satoshi and Gou to learn about fossils. And I feel like that, this fossil exhibition event is what truly rekindled Koharu's interest in Pokémon again. As we all remember, she truly enjoyed that trip, and she, for the first time, got to see Gou bond with a Pokémon, that was rampaging just moments ago. And this episode, accompanied with JN050, are why I am currently thinking Koharu's end goal will end up being related to fossils. It certainy would be an interesting approach for a female cast character, and I wouldn't mind her having a chat with some other character who's also involved in researching fossils... (cough Gary/Shigeru cough)

Anyway. All of this seemingly lead up to Koharu finally meeting her very apparent soul mate: Eevee. I know, that most people were somewhat (or even totally) annoyed by the fact that yet another pokegirl receives Eevee as their Pokémon, and that this is just boring. While I understand the sentiment, considering Koharu's character: Eevee is the only Pokémon that actually fits her. Koharu is out there still figuring out what she wants to be. What she wants to do. And Eevee is the most relatable Pokémon for that kind of character: Eevee can become eight, and I repeat, eight, different evolutions. That's pretty much the same as having different paths to choose from when deciding your goal. And this specific Eevee has also not yet decided what it wants to do. It refuses to evolve. While in-game one could say this is because of the g-max factor, I highly believe this is purely done for the purpose of making Koharu and Eevee relate on a very, very personal level. So instead of Eevee having the g-max factor disabling the evolution (because let's face it, it's only done so people won't accidentally evolve their Gigantamax Eevee), Eevee is kind of, constantly pressing the B button to prevent it.

Now: what has Eevee exactly given to Koharu's character? A lot actually. When before Koharu would try to deny interest in something or try to say she has something else to do instead of a trip, Eevee is there to push her forward to try things out.

Like in JN050, Koharu is trying to priotize her School instead of a Fossil trip to Galar, but thanks to Eevee, who wants to go, Koharu gets the needed push to go and try out new stuff. I very much adored this scene in this episode, due to encouraging the "try out new things" approach in life. From this point forward, we then see Koharu join in on other trips like the Diglett Farm (where she definitely shined in team leading and got to experience the farming and team leader approach) and the Glimwood Tangle trip, that Koharu herself prompted to her dad and the boys, instead of being asked to join. Which reminds me of something else btw.

While Gou is shown to be very knowledged with Pokémon, Koharu is shown to know more about other fields like how plants grows, and what kind of soil is good. This is from either school lessons or from her experience with taking care of the school flowers. She could possibly be considered a good student, and btw, I very much like the approach of not making her a school dropout once she started joining in on research trips, and instead takes homework to accomodate the fact that she's missing out on lessons. This isn't unusual in real life, so I'm glad JN is actually showcasing this approach with both Koharu and Gou. Thou with Gou, he's pretty much always absent, haha.

Now, her latest episode with Kikuna was an interesting one. While Koharu's main point in the episode was kind of to be the angel of love for Kikuna (which failed horribly, love you Kikuna <333 ), I'd say there was another reason for her being in that episode with Kikuna: it was to let her learn of the possibility of meeting possible pitfalls in one's dream goals. That lesson was in Kikuna's story about how she almost gave up in becoming a researcher due to a mess up with an important presentation for a conference, but found the strenght to try again. It's part of reaching your dream goal a lot of the time. Even Koharu's mom, Yoshino/Talia, gave her the story of how she originally wanted to be a mangaka, but gave up on the dream and instead approached something similar. These are all very important life lessons in how working toward one's goal can either fail, or come accoss obstacles. It depends on the person whether they'll end up switching the goal to something else, or strive to go forward to get past the obstacle. As someone who had exactly Koharu's mom's experience longside having to take a long while to find one, I appreciate that Koharu's journey has been about learning the good and bad experiences of working towards a dream goal.

Now: has this storyline been executed well? Imo, it has, but it ain't perfect, as there are some parts where I'd like to see some improvement on.

One of them is with how it's sometimes unclear as what kind of character she is counted as. Is the a main character alongside Gou and Satoshi now? Is the still supporting cast? Is she a lower tier main character that won't appear every episode still? The latest option would appear to be the case, but it's not often that simple to see.

There's also the case of Wanpachi seeming like it was teased to be eventually becoming Koharu's first partner, but instead it ended up being Eevee. I think for most, before JN049 aired, people assumed Wanpachi didn't belong to anyone exactly and thus was free reign. But, as JN049 confirmed, Wanpachi belonged to Sakuragi himself. Which is sorta funny, as Wanpachi clearly loves him the least, haha. So, what exactly do they intend with Wanpachi? I think, that in time it'll eventually switch owners to Koharu, as it clearly loves her the most, but the journey there is still on-going.

Now, here's something interest to think about: I think Koharu not being in every episode has actually been benefitial for her, as she never gives me the feeling that she's taking anyone's time for herself, and her involvements in stories fit quite well. My current favourites for her are definitely her team leading in Diglett episode, which is JN052, and the Galarian Ponyta episode (JN055) where she clearly showcased that she's able to handle herself in sticky situations. Which is quite a beautiful detail, at least to me.

Now to quiiickly note her dynamics quickly, let's talk a bit about how she is a big sister. Like, for real. She's got a baby brother in Sota/Parker, and the two do seem to have good relationship going on. However, I really want to see more of this! There's way too little of it going on right now, and it's mostly been typical siblinghood. I'm so glad there's still full on family aspects in JN, which is what I loved in Sun & Moon so so so much, but I want to see more. MORE! MORE-

I already talked about how I enjoy her dynamics with Gou and how their childhood friendship is showcased so well, and yet I still grave to see more. The two know each other well, and Gou always, ALWAYS respects Koharu, while Koharu ain't afraid to tell what's on her mind to Gou. Thou, she also knows that Gou would judge her if she were to ask about Pokémon bonding tips. Dyamn.

Now: I want more of Koharu and Satoshi. The two def seemed to have a bit of a "uugh who are you don't talk to me" approach, but it naturally faded as they went on their first trip to Nibi City's Fossil Exhibition. And they've been in good relations since I'd say.

Also to quickly note, I love how Koharu has been mentioned in couple scenes as being the character who's taught them first-aid or told about jealousy and how one should take Pokémon's feeling into consideration (even if this latter one should be obvious to Satoshi but, I digress, Satoshi was way too focused on Riolu and just assumed Pikachu would be fine since they've been buds since forever).

There's also so much more I still want to learn about: how exactly did she meet Gou and why she decided to be friends with him, does she have other friends besides him (because I would assume so but she's never shown with anyone else), give us an episode that's focused on Koharu & Sota, let her see Satoshi battle as well (afaik, she has NOT), let her meet Alola Squad + other past companions, and oooh there's so much I want her to do and I see so, so much potential in her character and I really really REALLY hope the writers don't screw her up.

Now is that all I wanted to talk about regarding Koharu... I guess so. As you might have figured out by now: I almost have no issues with how Koharu is written. She's enjoyable to watch and, suprisingly, I find the pace of her story-telling pleasant and not too fast nor way too slow. Could it do well with a bit faster pace? Possibly, but due to me seeing her as sort of a mid-season addition akin to how Precure or Digimon do them, I'm fine with this approach. Considering the current pace, I think she'll end up finding what she wants to end up working towards to by the end of this year, or early next year. And, despite how many might fear, I highly doubt it will be Contests. As it's pretty clear JN isn't out there to promote mainline games feature-to-feature, but instead cherry picks stuff it wants to do. I'm still quite certain, that she'll end up becoming a professor of her own fields, possibly of fossils (which, considering DP's Underground feature, could fit very well in promoting this feature of the remakes). Maybe even become a team leader of a fossil researching team, as she definitely showcases the skills for it, for knowing soil, fossil digging and again, team leading. And I totally didn't figure this out while writing this post. :'D (I totally did.)

So. I believe I'll end this post here, as this is already quite long by now and, honestly, there's not much left to talk about. It really feels good for me to talk so positively about a character in JN, as it's no secret that I ain't the biggest fan of the show. However, Koharu's approach speaks to me personally, very well, and I so, so look forward to seeing how her journey ends up going, and where it will lead her.

So who's up next on the list of discussions? I think you guys can guess it.

And it's gonna be a doozy one. Oh man oh man.

Thank you so much for reading if you came this far, have a fantastic evening/morning/whatever, and take good care of yourselves!

This was Smiling Performer aka Aleira, signing out! PEACE!

#pokemon #pokeani #anipoke #pokemon jn #pokemon journeys #discussions #character discussions #koharu #chloe #koharu sakuragi #chloe cerise

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hurricanery · 4 years

Text

If You Went Away - pt. 4

A/N: Here’s part 4! You can read the previous parts here:

part 1 // part 2 // part 3

If you sent a different prompt, I will get to it/start posting stuff in between. Thank you if you sent a message encouraging to post this next, the feedback is very much appreciated <3 This chapter takes place starting the day after Halloween/the day after the last chapter’s events.

_______

(present day)

A groan leaves her lips the second she opens her eyes and a dull, familiar ache expands through her head. The type of subdued headache you wake up with when you’re five years old and your temper tantrum is what finally put you to sleep in the first place.

But she’s not five years old. She’s a full grown adult who apparently still cries herself to sleep sometimes.

Her first thought is that it’s way too bright in here.

It takes all of her strength to push herself up and stumble across the room in an attempt to shut the blinds.

She manages to fulfill the task, but she’s interrupted on her way to climb back into bed. Because she’s gracelessly tripping over her boots, and her jeans, and her jacket. All of the things she’d worn the night prior. She steadies herself, as the unwelcome realities of the morning catch up with her.

And then it all hits her. As she looks down, noting her attire, dressed in only Link’s Mariners sweatshirt.

Suddenly she needs support. Her legs feel like they might give out from under her as the sleep-induced drowsiness fades and the trainwreck situation that was the night before crashes down on her.

Her head starts to spin as she tries to shut out her own self awareness. The awareness that she’d shown up here last night, acting completely unhinged, and then in her post-surgery sleep-deprived state, she’d practically begged Link for contact. Begged him to touch her. She cringes. Because those were almost her exact words.

She glances at the clock. It reads 9am. Which means Link was definitely at work by now, and Scout was definitely still sleeping. She forgoes her desire to crawl back into bed, and instead, decides a shower will help wash away her faults.

She enters the bathroom that’s attached to their room, reaching her hand over to turn on the shower. She waits a few minutes for it to warm up before stripping the sweatshirt off and hauling her body into the tiled stall.

She sits. Because that’s all she feels her body will allow.

She sits huddled on the shower floor, knees pulled into her chest, as the steady stream of hot water hits her in the back.

She focuses on the sound of the shower, trying to let it soothe her. Somewhere in the back of her mind she registers the sound of her own breathing, trying to keep it steady. Her body feels numb as she focuses on the persistent sound of the water hitting the floor around her. It pounds in her ears, and if she focuses hard enough in her mind, she can trick herself into thinking she’s caught up in a thunderstorm. She likes that better. Pretending to be somewhere else. It’s easier than coming to terms with her own inconsistencies.

In her mind, it’s absolutely pouring. And when she concentrates deeply enough, she can hear the occasional crash of thunder. It’s quiet, but it’s there. Almost resembling the sound of her front door slamming shut with the wind. But more powerful than that.

However, it must be windy, because she feels the house creak with movement that she’s not making herself.

“Mommy….?” A familiar, timid, voice sounds from somewhere in the distance. And Amelia startles only a little.

“Mom?” This time it’s louder, closer.

And now she’s panicking a little. Because she knows Scout hates storms.

A knock against wood shakes her from her reverie and she lifts her head enough so that it meets the stream of water from above. And all of a sudden her head is stinging, because this water is absolutely freezing now.

“Mom?!” his voice is close now, and bordering on impatient. His tone brings her back to reality and she completely realizes where she is. How long had she been in here?

“…Scout?” Amelia finds her voice, perplexed. Scout usually sleeps in well past 10am when he isn’t woken up by her or Link.

There’s another faint knock against the bathroom door.

“I’ll be out in a second, Scout. Okay?” She tries to sound cheerful. “I’ll come make you breakfast.”

“Aunt Mer gave me breakfast.”

She frowns, standing up and shutting the water off. Meredith was here? She doesn’t know how to respond to that exactly. She feels numb, and confused, and out of her head.

“Can I go ride bikes with Bailey?!” Scout’s question pulls her attention back.

“Wait, hold on a minute,” she mumbles, pulling a towel around her body and moving towards the door. She peeks her head out and meets her son’s eyes. “Just wait for me to come downstairs.”

His hyperactive body language isn’t boding well for Amelia’s request. He’s practically jumping up and down from where he stands in their bedroom. “Please. Pleaseee. Bailey has his bike and he’s already out there! Please!!”

“Okay, okay,” she groans. And Scout immediately takes off, running towards the stairs. “Wait! Hold on there, buddy!”

She exits the bathroom fully, and Scout stops in the doorway, looking at his Mom anxiously, like she’s about to be the gatekeeper of all of his fun.

“Scout listen to me,” Amelia says pointedly. “Just because Bailey has a big kid bike, doesn’t mean we’re changing anything about your bike-”

“Mommmm!” Scout interrupts her with an exaggerated whine. “I know I know, please!”

“Hey! I asked you to listen.” She waits for his impatient demeanor to calm a bit before she continues. “Scout, you have extra wheels for a reason, okay? We’re not taking them off until Dad has time to teach you-” Amelia trails off bemusedly as she watches her son nod along with her words, focus elsewhere, his eyes darting back to the stairs every few seconds. She recognizes the distant sound of Bailey’s laugh from the driveway outside.

“Okay, go.” She laughs. And Scout immediately runs off. “But stay in the backyard!”

_______

After about twenty minutes of pulling herself together, Amelia finally rounds the corner into the kitchen. Meredith turns around from where she’s cleaning up some of the mess from breakfast.

She raises her eyebrows at Amelia briefly. “Long time, no see,” Meredith says, somewhat sarcastically.

“You say that like it’s my fault,” Amelia defends herself. “The phone works both ways.”

Meredith frowns, but then nods at her words, in a very ‘you got me there’ type of way. “Well anyway, you look exhausted,” Meredith says blatantly.

“Thanks,” Amelia laughs, reaching for the coffee-maker. “I actually slept really well last night.”

“Something tells me you didn’t.”

This was their typical banter. Amelia actually feels comfort in the layers of sarcasm and utter boldness of their dynamic. It’s sort of refreshing. Compared to Maggie, who often tells Amelia what she wants to hear, Meredith doesn’t beat around the bush.

“You want to talk about it?” Meredith offers, somewhat flimsily.

Amelia grimaces. Because no. She doesn't want to talk about it. But, she knows she has to. It will all come out anyway. And to Meredith, of all people, who was queen of telling her to stuff her feelings in instead of dealing with them.

Amelia clicks the coffee-maker on and listens to the familiar sounds of the machine coming to life. She peeks out the kitchen window, a smile waving across her features as she watches Scout show off his training wheels to Bailey. She turns back to Meredith, who’s still looking at her blankly. Then she decides to rip the bandaid off, putting it all out there.

“I basically begged Link for sex last night.” She leans back against the counter nonchalantly. As if the situation she’s confessing to is completely normal. “And then…” She laughs at the absurdity of her own words. “When he rejected me….? I cried myself to sleep.”

Meredith’s expression doesn’t even falter.

“In his arms!” Amelia raises her voice incredulously, still laughing bitterly. “I should add that. I cried myself to sleep….in his arms.”

Silence fills the kitchen momentarily, until the distinct sound of the coffee-maker clicking off catches Amelia’s attention. She moves toward the cupboards, rummaging for a mug, before pouring herself a cup.

“It could be worse.” Meredith finally says, after Amelia takes her first sip.

“Ah, shit!” Amelia exclaims, burning her mouth on the hot beverage, almost breaking the mug with the force she sets it down with.

She takes a moment to gather herself, closing her eyes and nodding at Meredith’s words. Because she’s right. In the grand scheme of things, it could be much, much worse.

And in an almost ironic turn of events, her thoughts are interrupted by the agonizing sound of her son’s cry from the backyard.

Amelia’s eyes spring open and she glances at Meredith briefly before they are both taking off, sprinting outside.

She feels like she’s having an out-of-body experience as her senses adjust to everything that’s happening around her.

She sees Scout. Sprawled out on the driveway, a bike abandoned about 10 feet away.

She hears him. His scream of a sob. It rattles her eardrums and covers her body in chills.

And she hears Bailey, too. His panicked tone as he explains how ‘Scout just wanted to try it, auntie Amelia, he just wanted to try my bike for a minute!’

“Shh, Bailey, shh,” Meredith murmurs somewhere behind Amelia. “What happened?”

“The...the bike tipped over,” Bailey cries. “He just wanted to go fast, Mom. He just wanted a little push. I’m sorry!”

“Okay, okay. It’s okay,” she hears Meredith whisper to Bailey.

Amelia approaches Scout, and just by the positioning of the fall, she can already tell that things are at the point of much, much worse.

“Meredith,” she breathes, as she kneels on the cement of the driveway. She hovers over Scout, pushing his hair back and resting a hand on his hot cheek, murmuring to him that everything is going to be fine. She turns back to Meredith. “His, his arm….look at his arm. Look at the angle of his arm.”

“I’ll get the car.”

_______

The ER is crowded when they arrive and Meredith decides it’s best to take Bailey home before things get too chaotic. She reaches for Amelia’s hand and squeezes gently as they both watch the resident on call guide Scout into a wheelchair.

“Thanks for driving us,” Amelia whispers, glassy eyes still glued to her son as they begin walking inside.

They get situated in one of the trauma rooms and Amelia hovers over Scout, who has finally stopped crying.

“Mommy,” his voice is still strained from his previous sobs. “It hurts.”

“I know, baby, I know.” She can’t help the tears that spring to her own eyes as she runs her fingers through his hair gently. “But you’re so brave.”

An intern that Amelia doesn’t quite recognize walks into the room and she turns to him. “No,” she says, dismissively. “No, I told them to page Atticus Lincoln.”

“Uhhhh,” the intern looks around, confused. “Well, we did page him but-”

“Go find him,” Amelia interrupts. “On foot.”

The intern stares at her blankly.

“Now.”

The harshness of her tone has him turning on his feet instantly.

_______

“It looks like….the impact of the fall definitely caused a tear in his rotator cuff,” Link murmurs, as he examines his own son carefully. “His shoulder is dislocated. We’re going to have to….reset it.” Link outwardly cringes at the last thought.

Amelia sighs. She stands on the opposite side of the bed from Link. She can’t take her eyes off of Scout.

“Daddy?”

“Yeah, bud?” Link gently responds as finishes his examination.

“Did I break my arm?”

“No, no. Not quite.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah,” Link laughs, half-heartedly. “Yeah it is.”

“It doesn’t really hurt anymore.”

Amelia’s gaze snaps quickly to Link, out of concern. But Link’s tone provides an instant sense of calmness to the room.

“Well, that’s actually good,” he explains. “Because, you see, your arm isn’t broken. It would hurt a lot lot more if it was broken. It’s more like….your bone is in the wrong place.”

“And….you gonna….put it back where it goes?” Scout wonders out loud, causing both parents to smile despite their joint concern.

“Yeah, bud,” Link murmurs, watching as Amelia brings her own hand up, biting at her thumbnail anxiously. “We’re gonna put it back in the right place.”

“Mkay,” Scout murmurs quietly. “I’m tired now….” He blinks, eyes shifting between both parents on either side of the bed.

Amelia smiles sweetly, tears threatening to make another appearance. She gazes at Link.

“That’s okay, Scout,” Link whispers, eyes shifting from Amelia to his overtired five-year-old. “You can close your eyes….that’s actually better, while we wait….to not have him moving around much….” The last part is directed more towards Amelia, who nods solemnly at this information.

“What do you mean ‘while we wait’?” Amelia whispers, noticing how quickly Scout had drifted off.

Link sighs heavily. He moves towards one of the two plastic chairs in the corner of the trauma room and motions for her to join him.

Amelia bites her lip anxiously. The anticipation of sitting so closely to him, mixed in with the regret of her actions last night, causes her to panic. With the chaos of the morning, Amelia barely even had time to dwell on how their first conversation would go after last night. These weren’t the circumstances she imagined at all.

What immediately registers for her, despite her own nerves, is just how overwhelmed Link looks, too. And that revelation is what allows her to cross the room and take the seat next to him. Because despite what had happened between them, they were in this moment, processing together.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call you,” she murmurs as she sits down. “It all happened so fast….we just had to get here. I completely forgot to grab my phone-”

“Amelia, that’s not what I’m worried about,” Link interrupts, the tone of his strained voice perplexes Amelia and she turns to him, studying his face.

“What then?”

“I, uh….we’re waiting….because I paged Nico.”

Amelia just frowns. “You’re here now, though. I don’t understand why-”

“I can’t do it,” he says simply. Eyes glued to the floor as he zones out slightly. “I can’t be the one to pop his shoulder back in place.”

“You’re….” Amelia trails off, her eyebrows pulling together as she tries to understand. “You’re head of ortho….why would you not be the one to do this….”

“It’s gonna hurt like hell, Amelia!” Link’s voice raises harshly and they both turn to Scout, checking to see if he’s woken up from the slight outburst.

“Sorry…” Link murmurs, much quieter. “I can’t….I won’t let him associate that kind of pain with me. I won’t do it….”

Link’s getting worked up now and Amelia absentmindedly reaches forward, squeezing his knee. When she realizes what she’s done, she quickly pulls her hand away.

“Okay, I get it.”

Link finally looks at her, and for the first time Amelia sees the panic in his eyes. It mirrors her own.

“He’s going to be okay.” Amelia adds. And when she reaches for his knee this time, it’s not absentmindedly.

Link glances down, eyes focusing on her hand. He inhales deeply, and then hesitantly rests his own hand on top of hers, giving it a small squeeze.

The moment is interrupted when Nico walks into the room, and they quickly pull apart.

They both stand. And Amelia exhales shakily as she moves towards Scout, gently reaching forward to wake him up.

_______

“You did so good, baby,” Amelia murmurs, ruffling Scout’s hair as she once again feels her eyes sting with moisture. This time it’s out of gratitude.

“Do I get anything I want now?” Scout wonders, as Link and Nico carefully help Scout up from the bed.

Amelia laughs. Because she had promised that. When the panic set in just before Nico began the process of re-setting Scout’s arm. Scout had lost his cool completely. Breathing rapidly as his eyes darted between his parents in total fear.

‘I’ll get you anything you want after this’ Amelia had pleaded with him.

And Nico had stepped forward, resuming the task at hand.

‘Look at me Scout, look at me and scream as loud as you can. Don’t hold back, I want to hear it.’ Link had instructed.

“Cuz I know it.” Scout chimes in again. “I wanna ice cream sundae. With sprinkles.”

Amelia laughs again, reaching for the hand on his good side as they walk out of the trauma room and towards the ambulance bay. Scout’s injured arm now resting in a sling.

“I can make that happen,” Amelia smiles as they walk outside.

“No, dad too,” Scout whines, pulling his hand free from her grasp. Amelia frowns. “You both have to come!”

“Dad’s working, Scout,” She mutters, “Sorry, you’re stuck with just me.”

“Noooo,” he whines. And the realization dawns on Amelia that it must be closing in on late afternoon. This was Scout’s usual naptime. He was only going to get more irritable.

“Sorry, Scout,” she tries not to sound too defensive, attempting to hide the ego bruise developing at his sudden refusal to be with just her. “That’s just the way it is…”

“Then why's Daddy walking over here?”

“Huh?”

Link catches up with them a moment later. Jacket on. Holding his car keys.

“Hey! I wrapped up early. You guys probably need a ride home, right?” He looks at Amelia. He can’t quite determine the expression she gives back to him. Somewhere between hurt and frustrated.

He looks between the pair, perplexed.

“What’s up?” he mutters in question.

“We’re getting ice cream!” Scout excitedly announces.

“Oh?” Link trails off, glancing back at Amelia, whose appearance doesn’t at all match Scout’s enthusiasm.

She rolls her eyes.

“I can drop you guys off somewhere and pick you up?” Link offers quietly, muttering to Amelia.

“No, no!” Scout interrupts. “No, Dad! You have to come! You have to come, too!” He stomps his foot and Link almost wants to laugh at the impatience. He doesn’t laugh, though. He holds back at Amelia’s demeanor.

Scout looks up at Amelia, and she sighs, weighing her options.

“Okay, let’s just go,” she breathes, glancing at Link. Who frowns slightly at her. But she just nods her head, suddenly indifferent.

Scout squeals with excitement, taking off quickly towards the parking lot. And Link catches up with him. “Wait, buddy, Slow down! Try to keep that arm still.”

Amelia trails behind them a bit further back, mentally preparing herself. Because now that the major crisis of the day was resolved, there was suddenly way more room to process the events of last night. And what their new normal was, going forward.

#amelink #amelink fanfic #amelinkfic #amelia shepherd #atticus lincoln #amelia x link #greys anatomy fanfic #greys anatomy fic #grey's anatomy fanfic #grey's anatomy fic #my writing #meredith grey #nico kim

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