#he must expect that lawl

[fancyshooting]

thoughts on ocelot’s time in the navy(?) - based on that analysis of his uniform

cushy!

if his conceited attitude is anything to go by, he was treated very well in russia. he has an inflated ego but is sorely lacking in skill. he becomes indignant at snake's criticism, as if he has been used to constant praise. I think the KGB would've congratulated him for defecting, then in the GRU we know he gets special treatment from volgin due to his background. his youth would get him a lot of adulation too. so young! so clever!

I was struggling to find any irl battles or idk events ocelot could've been involved with but then I realised that his whole thing in mgs3 is that he doesn't actually have a lot of combat experience. a lot of that is likely due to the leniency afforded to him on account of being a very special boy. he does wear a ribbon bar though, suggesting that he achieved something of note at some point within those first four years in the soviet union (although judging by his epaulettes, he was promoted not long before the start of the virtuous mission, so maybe the ribbon bar is related to that)

since he was only sixteen when he defected, he probably wasn't enrolled into the military straight away. he and EVA had NSA secrets to spill first, so he must have had meeting after meeting where that information would have been recorded by KGB officials. then, he would have to be taught the russian approach to espionage and the political climate etc. etc., which would take some time. I'm not sure if he would still officially be with the KGB by the time he joins the military... we're never told exactly what kind of work he was doing for the KGB other than acting as an informant and secretly passing on intel from the GRU. the KGB also had their own spetsnaz (spetsnaz literally just means "special forces" so you can get GRU spetsnaz and KGB spetsnaz - both totally different groups), meaning that ocelot might still have been operating in a military environment rather than focusing on civilian matters, which I think is what you tend to think of when you hear "KGB"

the soviet naval infantry was disbanded in 1947 and remained as such until 1961 (there was still a soviet navy but no naval infantry, the branch that the west would call marines). I personally believe ocelot was sent to join the GRU when he was eighteen, so I'm trying to fit everything around that. apparently the cuban missile crisis was a factor in prompting the ussr to strengthen its navy and that was in october 1962, meaning (according to my headcanon) he would already be in the GRU. this could be why he ended up in the naval infantry and not, eg. the air force

there's no way that, as the son of two legendary war heroes, ocelot wouldn't have received any combat training in childhood. the philosophers would have been pushing him to meet the standard set by his parents. russia isn't supposed to know about all that training though, so he would have had to have pretended to be nothing more than a cryptographer (maybe his skills dulled and he's just rusty in mgs3...?)

regardless of the exact years and specific organisation he was working for, I think little captain ocelot probably spent more time hanging out with the high-ups learning about military strategy while the other men his age were out in the field doing the taxing, dangerous work. if he was pretending not to have had any prior combat training, maybe he was put to use working on a radio team or something. idk signals, communication, all the skills that he would be expected to have as a known former NSA agent

he could've trained with the naval infantry while already being part of spetsnaz. apparently navy spetsnaz were accommodated with regular recruits and went through pretty much the same training so that they wouldn't be marked out as SECRET SPECIAL FORCES. that means he could technically still be doing navy stuff in mgs3, even though he's stuck up a mountain

he's definitely trained in jumping stylishly from aircraft into water at least. naval infantry conduct operations mostly by amphibious assault... hey wait. what if the croc cap was..... omg thank you ADAM...

um... he got to go on boats and maybe a submarine. cats generally don't like water but ocelots do so swimming is fine. he travelled around the coast and saw a whale one time. he read lots of secret documents about submarines and developments in the world of sonar and radar and underwater weapons. torpedoes and um... um... idk I wish I had more to say about this but idk anything about the navy, let alone the cold war soviet navy sorry :( I hope it wasn't terrible B) ty for the ask!!

[frogserotonin]

overthinker- lars pinfield x reader

a/n: short one bc im still in a slump rn many sorries. also sorry lawl this fic is so disconjointed and i’m really unhappy with it but whatever 😭 warnings: nothin proper i don’t think, most ooc lars to ever ooc, unedited; tell me if i've spelt smth wrong 😁

“Would you want to go out to get some lunch together on our break?” Your fingertips bounce off of the sides of your legs as you try to remain composed. You're so high-strung right now, you almost expect him to laugh in your face. Nerves and the effects of having slept a fitful two hours last night override your usually rational brain and you feel the need to just run away without receiving an answer bloom in your chest.

“I thought you usually brought lunch? If you forgot to bring some you can have some of mine, if you want.” Lars doesn’t even look up from what he’s working on, just adjusts his glasses and uses a vague jut of his elbow to point to his locker, where you know his bag is. Your heart simultaneously drops and stutters. 

“Oh, it’s okay, I just felt like going out to eat, thank you though.” You try to make your words seem more upbeat than you feel, unsure of whether or not to take his words as a rejection.

“Oh. Okay then.” It must be your imagination, but his words hold a hint of disappointment. You open your mouth again, then close it, and silence re-envelopes the room. Turning, you make your way to your desk and begin to work away, dejection slumping your shoulders forward and making time drag on. When eventually the lunch break arrives, you grab your bag and rush your way out of the lab.

A squeak of shoes on the concrete floor behind you almost has you looking back, but your brain is so addled you almost believe you’ve made it up.

Like a fool, you don't talk to him when you come back, or when you leave, the time you spend alone and in silence building up an anxiety in the back of your mind. The idea that he's all too aware of your feelings, and is made uncomfortable by them and your advances overtakes you completely. That night, you stay awake, tossing and turning, over analysing every interaction you've ever had with him, trying to make sure you've not overstepped and made a complete and utter fool of yourself.

In the morning, you consider it a miracle you leave the house at all, with how tired you are. The thought of calling in sick crosses your mind, but by the time you get up your body automatically locks itself into its usual routine, and you mindlessly get dressed and make your way to the Ghostbusters facilities. Through your drowsiness, the realisation that you’re at your desk and doing absolutely nothing sets in and you jolt. 

“Good morning.” If he didn’t sound so concerned, Lars would sound thoroughly amused. “You alright? Look a bit…off.” Your face flares, and you go to stand up, only to stumble and almost fall on your face. Hands out, you stabilise yourself, and then face him.

“Yeah. Morning.” You can only hope that he backs off, because his concern seems too genuine for your feelings to not expand exponentially the more he stands before you looking like he cares. “M’feeling just peachy, you?.” Belatedly, you realise your words are clearly not convincing because he doesn’t move an inch, simply studying you. He then sighs and shakes his head, chuckling a little bit, just softly under his breath, taking a couple steps closer to you. 

“When’s the last time you slept?” His voice is too gentle, too un-Lars-like, that you’re almost convinced you actually did fall asleep last night, and now you’re dreaming. You open your mouth to respond, but find yourself nodding off as you do so, the last thing you process before fully passing out is the feeling of arms around your chest and shoulders. 

When you come to, you sit up quickly, and slowly become aware of what had happened. Muttering cursing to yourself under your breath, you take in your surroundings, finding yourself slung over the small couch situated in the room reserved for taking time off from work briefly. Hurriedly, you rush out of the room towards where you assume Lars is working, apology already on the tip of your tongue. You approach him quickly and loudly, a fact that can be gathered from his head immediately snapping up when you enter the room. He starts to speak, no doubt to rattle off reasons why you were irresponsible and stupid for coming to work while being aware you weren’t at your fullest capacity, but you cut him off.

“God, I’m so sorry. That was humiliating, and I’m so, so sorry that it happened, it won’t happen again.” You bow your head, refusing to look him in the eye, but quickly look up again when you hear him laugh. 

“It’s fine, really, you just scared me a little bit.” His smile is small, but sincere and you remember fully the reason you were in the predicament in the first place. “Are you feeling better now?” 

You probably look a bit crazy with how vigorously you nod, but you barely care anymore. 

“Yes, thank you so much, really, I’m sorry that it happened.” He laughs again, and it sounds like heaven.

“You don’t need to thank me or apologise,” Lars’ eyes sparkle a bit behind his glasses when he properly smiles, and you can feel warmth rush to your face. He hesitates, like he’s calculating his words, then gently says “I-uh. I care for you a lot, it really meant nothing for me to make sure you were okay.”

[nc-vb]

𝐅𝐨𝐨𝐥'𝐬 𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭, pt. i

In advance, I apologize to those who have already seen this post. I’ve had to transfer it to a new blog thanks to a seemingly permanent ban on my former main blog, @/niicevibe. So this is just copy & paste from there. Sorry!

Happy New Years, everyone!! This was supposed to be out at the end of December... hahaha. If you haven’t noticed (from the post I made earlier this month in promotion for this), some of the tags/warnings have changed and some have been added. Ackkkkk, I’m so embarrassed by this being my first smut fic on here LMAO and that’s why it took me so long to get out.  I really hope some of those more technical words used here aren’t a turn off for y’all? And side note… how tf does he get that belt thing off??? I totally wrote this piecemeal, so if there are any discrepancies or whatevs, I was all over the map writing this.

masterlist | taglist pt. i | pt. ii | pt.iii

pairing -> albedo x fem!reader

warnings -> 18+ (minors & blank blogs dni), virgin!reader, virgin!albedo, pwp, vaginal fingering, handjob, oral (m. receiving), brief deepthroating (🙏🏼), safe experimentation (& unsafe piv sex lmao), creampie (multiple, implied), impregnation (?), cock warming, aftercare; brief convo of menstrual cycles & periods; mention of blood; uhhh it’s a bit comedic at times, lawls, but this is pretty vanillz, y’know?

character mentions -> klee, kaeya, traveler, paimon, lisa, sucrose, iris, timaeus

wc -> 14.5k

Most folks would argue that taking the advice of an explosives-loving ten-year-old over that of a time and experience-hardened adventure is idiotic; that accessing Dragonspine and braving its subzero temperatures from the route at Wyrmrest Valley rather than through the adventurer’s camp by the Snow-Covered Path was reckless— not just for you, but for those who would have to come up in the mountains and search for your body (to which you easily scoffed at; adventurers do have their penchant for dramatics, after all). Whatever she thought your goal had been when you initially asked Iris for directions with your map had been of no consequence, disregarding her noisy efforts of convincing you to go her mapped route.

“Look, I’m not some adventurer— I’ve got one destination and it’s right here, now tell me the fastest way of getting there, not the adventurer’s way.”

Before the ensuing argument could take another turn for the worst, a familiar face had appeared between you. Well, below you.

“Miss ______, Miss ______!” You’d flinched then, not expecting to see a child at your side so suddenly, but upon recognizing who it’d been, your heart settled.

“Ah, Klee!” You’d dropped onto a knee, grinning as you sweep her into your arms. “Just the sweet, helpful face I’d been hoping to run into!” She’d giggled at this, taking a second to cling to you just a little tighter before finally letting you go. “Say, do you think you could help me with a teensy little problem?”

“Of course!” she’d cheered. “Spark Knight Klee of the Knights of Favonius, at your service, Miss ______! How can Klee help!?”

Reaching behind you and snatching your map out of Iris’s hands, not forgetting to shoot the woman an obvious look of disdain, you’d turned back to Klee, your smile having returned instantly.

“Well, I’m trying to find your brother’s lab,” you’d explained, “but this is the first time I’ve ever been to Dragonspine. He once marked it for me on this map, but I’m having trouble figuring out the fastest route there. You must have the best route, right, Klee?”

“I do! It’s true!!” She’d immediately stuck her nose into the parchment, with you pointing at the small, inked on “X” sitting near one of the Waypoint markers. “Ooh, yes! If you go along this snowy beach, and up a biiiiiiig hill where this bright red light is! You’ll find big brother Albedo in his lab! Klee was just there!”

“Oh, I see! He wasn’t busy, was he?”

“Nuh-uh! He and I just ate lunch together! But now I have to go back to Mondstadt to see Grand Master Jean…” At this, she’d sighed.

You made a silly face at her, lip jutted into faux suspicion. “Did you blow something up again?”

“No!!” she’d been quick to argue, though just as quick to relent. “… yes... I went fish blasting again...”

You’d chuckled. “Atta girl, Klee. If you ask me, they deserve it. Those fish never bite.”

And so thanks to Klee’s quick guidance and no thanks to that useless, no fun Iris - Klee had agreed with this statement - you were on your way through Wyrmrest Valley, passing by a strange cave filled with the bright red light the young girl had mentioned (thanks to Albedo, you knew it to contain the heart of Durin from the old stories of Mondstadt) and trekking up a snowy hill with the hood of your coat pulled tight over your head. You don’t take much of a break until you reach one of the Waypoint markers, a ten minute standing siesta against it to catch your breath and absorb its warmth before heading due east toward the black “X” on your map.

The closer you get to the mouth of the cave, the thinner the layer of soft snow covering the ground beneath you gets, until eventually, your snowshoes sound against planks of wood bolted deep into the hard, bare earth. You heave a sigh of relief, your calves having been burning almost too fiercely for you to continue. Having received such a stroke of luck for having found where you were headed… you remind yourself to not to take it for granted.

Knocking the snow off your boots off as best you can before entering, you soon spot the person you'd climbed all this way for, standing with his back to the opening and before an easel. You decide to leave your arrival unannounced, suddenly rising onto the toes of your boots to lighten your steps on your way over to him, but even despite your best effort, he still greets you.

"Hello, ______. It's nice to see you today."

"Hi, Albedo," you reply, trying hard not to sound too disappointed. "Um... how did you know it was me? You didn't even turn around..."

"Not many people brave travelling up Dragonspine just to come and visit me," he explains. "Klee, Kaeya, the Traveler and Paimon whenever they return to Mondstadt, they all greet me normally-- but when you come and visit me in Mondstadt, it's usually without notice, and, you always try to sneak up on me."

You move around from behind him to see his face. His eyes flicker onto you, while his mouth quirks into a small smile in welcoming you before returning to the canvas.

"... do I really do that every time," you ask, your embarrassment showing through your awkward grin. He nods, another brush stroke leading up the canvas. "Oh... sorry about that."

"There's no need to apologize, ______. I look forward to your visits."

Despite the cold still managing to sting your cheeks, they're quickly warmed by his words.

"Are you able to stay for a while today? I'd like to show you the conclusion of that last experiment you saw me working on, but I'd also like to finish this painting and show you it, as well."

"I saved the entire day for our visit, so don't rush anything on my account, okay?"

"I don't want to keep you here too late," he says, dipping a new, smaller-tipped brush into his paint palette. "Dragonspine is less friendly at night."

Less friendly? you wonder, thinking back on how you had to run from a Frostarm Lawachurl only twenty minutes ago. I suppose from the perspective of someone with a Vision, this makes more sense.

"Worst case scenario, I could always sleep here," you reason. Off your shoulders, you slide off your pack of supplies, and attached to the bottom of it by a pair of two thick leather straps, "since I brought my sleeping pouch with me, just in case."

"I see. Well, that does bring me more comfort than having you hiking along this mountain in the dark. Which way did you come from, anyhow?"

"The path near the heart of Durin." He immediately sighs.

"Klee. Ever since she decided to wander around the base of the mountain, it's been through that route that she's come, rather than staying on the one the Adventurer's Guild paved out."

"But the map shows it to take twice as long to get up here?"

"That's because the other paths are twice as dangerous."

"In all seriousness, Klee bombs fish for fun, so I don't think her taking a Frostarm Lawachurl down with her Pyro Vision is much of a problem, nor is it one of her biggest concerns."

"Even though that isn't the point, and not exactly a fair comparison... I have to agree. After all, I've seen it done." Your eyes widen in awe of the girl. "______, please. If you come up here again, use the safe route. I don't want to hear of anything happening to you on account of you coming to see me."

"We've been friends for a long time now, Albedo, and I appreciate you always worrying about me, I do, but really," and you place your hand on his shoulder, "you don't have to. You deal with enough stressful things. I would never dream of burdening you with such an awful feeling."

"It's because we have been friends for so long that I worry, ______. It would bring me a peace of mind for you to stay safe, no matter where you go."

All the choice words you had to say die on your tongue, deciding against starting a meaningless argument. Besides, it goes the same for you, too. Even though he has a Vision and he's a skilled fighter, you always worry when he's alone up here. Especially after that incident with his imposter.

You sigh at him, taking your hand back and moving to collapse on the edge of his cot. You yank your thick, woollen coat off of you and lay it next to your pack on the floor. "Fine. I'll take the long way here next time. But if I freeze to death, that is on you."

"It's a deal, then," he says, and you instantly roll your eyes.

"Oh, before I forget," and you reach for your pack, "I brought you something."

You have to stifle a laugh when his head whips toward you. "By any chance, is it more sweets?"

"Don't sound too excited, Albedo," you say; "you might not like this one this time."

"Was it you who made them?" he inquires.

"Naturally."

"Then I will like these ones, too."

You decide to relish in the heat created by his flattering words for an extra second before pulling out the tin. Filled with soft, white gelatin balls rolled in coconut, and at the center, a sweet jam filling, "Supposedly, the idea of them came from Fontaine, but this one is an old recipe I found from cleaning out my relative's attic the other day. They are called "coconut macaroons”.”

Standing, you open the tin and present them to him, watching his eyebrows raise as he studies them.

"Would you mind holding it for me to eat?" he suddenly asks, and in raising his hands to where you can see them covered in paint, you nod, no other words needed from him.

"Of course," you say.

Tucking the lid beneath the tin, you use your other hand to pluck one of the balls out, and hold it closer to his mouth. He gives it a light sniff per his usual routine with the food you bring him, before parting his lips to bite into it. It seems to surprise him, just how soft and sweet the treat is. Up until now, or at least in the past six months, most of what you've made for him had been either a pastry of varying textures or different kinds of cakes or biscuits, though based on your description of the new dessert, he hadn’t been expecting such a moist sweetness to it.

“So? What do you think?” He spares you a glance before leaning forward. You bring it a little closer, having drawn back to give him room, and he takes the rest of it into his mouth, his lips grazing over the tip of your index finger. “O-Oh…”

You don’t miss this. As slight as the contact had been, it still managed to freeze you in place as it registered. It was just an overextension, you fool, you tell yourself, internally shaking your head. If it wasn’t for what happened earlier, you wouldn’t have even thought it to be anything but innocent. After all… it’s not just bringing him some sweets as to why you’re here… Get your head out of the proverbial gutter, ______!

“It’s delicious,” he tells you earnestly, his turquoise eyes seeming to be shining just a little brighter. “By comparison, I think this might be one of your best creations. Did you make the jam middle yourself, too?”

“Yes,” you say, thankful that he’d decided to ask about it so as to settle your heart down. “A seventy-thirty ratio of valberries to regular berries, and refined sugar from fresh sweet flowers. Not too sweet, but not too tart either, right?”

“The perfect balance,” he agrees with a small nod. Your gaze zeroes in on the skin next to his mouth. “Thank you for bringing these, ______. I’ll definitely be enjoying them.”

“… you’re welcome,” you murmur, your brain a little slow in responding properly.

If you hadn’t bothered to visit Timaeus by Mondstadt’s alchemy station in an attempt at hunting Albedo down for the purpose of giving him these sweets, you wouldn’t have overheard the conversation at all. But it would only appear that the gods are seeing fit to serve you reminders until you bother to ask him about it. Now, it simply seems like you’re only buttering him up with the treat in order to get an answer out of him.

Which isn’t true! you’re quick to remind yourself. B-But… maybe it’ll help?

“Um… you have a bit of coconut on your cheek,” you mumble, internally sighing at the fact that your tone still remained near that of a whisper.

“Oh, thank y—” he halts in raising his free hand to remove it, nearly having forgotten about his painted hands. “______, would you actually mind, again, removing it for me?”

You set the tin down in the empty space of a small wooden table. “S-Sure.” Truly, it doesn’t need much focus to simply reach out and brush the shaving away, but you can’t hold a steady enough hand that you might’ve risked dropping the tray of sweets.

What's with me all of a sudden?! you’d wondered.

For as long as you’ve known him, both you and Albedo held a mutually platonic relationship. Before, it barely teetered on the line of coworkers and friends, you being a simple records clerk for the Knights of Favonius, and him, being their chief alchemist, until you mustered up enough courage to send him a personal gift during one of Mondstadt’s winter holidays; touched by the gesture, he sent you a beautiful landscape painting of his of Dragonspine.

Normally, with how busy you’d always been with the Knights’ affairs, you wouldn’t have bothered to approach him in the first place, but after a short conversation about him with Kaeya, you learned that not being too hasty so as not to startle him - in this case, first sending him a gift as a greeting of sorts - was the smarter move.

It had been almost three years since then. And in those three years, you’d never felt so strangely behaved around him until now.

Damn those chatty women, you mentally curse. It’s all I can think about now! How stupid.

“______?”

You jump, not realizing you had zoned out. “Y-Yes.”

“You were shaking,” Albedo says, the slight drop of his brows almost barely noticeable. “Are you feeling alright? Are you cold?”

“Oh, n-no—” quickly and carefully, you brush away the coconut with a swipe of your thumb. “I’m not cold.”

Albedo goes silent, his eyes suddenly wandering across your face. As naturally as possible, you avert your own, and retake your seat at the edge of the mattress, knowing full well of his curiosity.

How would you even phrase it? It’s personal, isn’t it? Inappropriate? Er, invasive? Not only in regards to the relationship you had as both coworkers and as friends, but just in general— you just don’t really ask people this.

You groan, relenting to his wordless wondering. “… this might be a bit of an… awkward, personal question.”

Albedo has to hide his relief when you finally decide to speak again. He didn’t want to pry, despite that curiosity. You’d looked uncomfortable, after all. Or, “embarrassed” might be a more choice word to use.

“Inquiry is never awkward, ______. It’s an opportunity to learn more. What is it?”

You hold back a bated breath. No, really— it’s an awkward question. Maybe not for you it won’t be, but for me, yes.

“Right… well…” You clear your throat. “Earlier today, when I was speaking to Timaeus to find out where your laboratory was, the people who were behind me started a conversation that… involved your name.”

“I suppose that’s not uncommon, considering where you were.”

“W-While that is true, I assure you that it hadn’t nothing to do with the practices of alchemy.”

Albedo pauses, sparing a glance at you before finally setting the brush down into a somehow non-frozen glass of water. There were many things within the master alchemist’s laboratory that defied reason, this being of the few that genuinely shocks you the most considering how frigid his Dragonspine lab tends to be, even with multiple lanterns and a large fire always going. He turns to the basin of water and dips his hands in, the water quickly turning an off blue shade from the paint, and abandoning the canvas.

“Oh. Then, do tell. I’m rather curious to learn why I came up in their conversation, if not for that alchemy.”

“Ye— oh, boy.” An exhale leaves you sharply, an embarrassing heat suddenly spreading across the back of your neck. “O-Okay. So, you know how you were created as an artificial human, right? Wait, don’t answer that,” you interrupt yourself as he’d gone to speak; “of course, you know. Archons, that was stupid of me— well, i-it’s not common knowledge, naturally, but people have been making up their own theories since, obviously, you don’t age, and so I overheard some of the theories today, like you’re a secret god or a cursed human or a very well-designed, micro-versioned Ruin enemy with sentience, but then the talk about these theories got them to asking more personal, inappropriate-for-public-conversation questions, like—”

“________.” You gasp a little, out of breath from your tangent. “That was a very long sentence. Please, ask me your question before you go unconscious from poor oxygenation.”

You nod, cheeks hot.

“… a-are you able to reproduce?”

Albedo blinks at you. If he’s surprised by your question, he doesn’t show it— in fact, the only change he does show is one of inquisition. Curiosity. As if the thought of siring children had never once been a thought in his five hundred years of existence. Perhaps he could easily assume the answer is “no”, considering his “genetic make up”, for a lack of a more appropriate term— he hadn’t been nicknamed “the chalk prince” for simply his last name, after all.

But then, on the other hand, he retains identical biological functions to humans such as yourself— tear, saliva, and mucus production; urination and defecation; having the ability to bleed— so perhaps it stands to reason that his body contains the same chemical makeup in his ejaculate as any common male, too, no? Maybe, it might even be of a more concentrated design; a textbook definition of “virility”. And while he knows he’s quite capable of this type of fluid production, he’d only allowed himself to venture on that end of science (read: pleasure) once, and through a private venture. It hadn’t exactly been an experiment to perform in front of others, being frank.

Albedo has lost himself to thought, this much is easy for you to tell. His brilliant gemstone-like eyes have lost their shine and had gone out of focus, a hand has raised to hold his chin and ground him. You don’t bother to speak, waiting for him to exit his mind on his own. Eventually, his thoughts begin to spill out and off his tongue, his murmuring quick to join the crackling fire in filling his cliffside laboratory.

“… perhaps I should proceed with a plan to test this theory, though… a long term experiment of nine-plus months is slightly untenable in consideration to my main objective… There are numerous considerations… although… a willing, fertile participant would surely be necessary…” To your surprise, his concentration breaks, his gaze flitting toward and onto you.

You shiver, knowing full well it isn’t from the cold.

“A-And just what is that look for?” you ask, your voice having cracked with concern.

“… nothing in particular,” Albedo says. He has yet to blink, eyes seemingly stuck on you.

“In case you didn’t know, you were speaking out loud again, Albedo— I heard that last bit.”

“Oh. Perhaps I should explain, then,” he says. You instantly pale at his words. “Regarding your question, I can only partially answer it right now. I don’t know whether I am capable of reproduction. When Gold entrusted me with find the “truth and meaning of this world”, for many years, this had become my sole purpose and drive. After that, perhaps I might fully be free to investigate and experiment the rest that life has to offer. I see, however, that this has piqued your interest. In all honesty, I am curious about it, as well.”

“S-So then… what do you plan to do?” you ask, immediately wishing you hadn’t.

“Seeing as I don’t have any other experiments to tend to, I’m currently weighing the pros and cons on my decision to begin this one. The parameters and necessary criteria are relatively straightforward. Quite obviously, it wouldn’t take many, if not zero, tools or supplies. Really, there’s only one other factor necessary for investigation.”

“And that’s that “willing, fertile participant” you mentioned before,” you say, expression and tone both deadpan.

“Exactly.”

“You know, sometimes, you’re a little too honest, Albedo.”

“My apologies,” he says.

“I… didn’t mean it as a bad thing,” you mumble, looking away from him and at the opening to his lab, outside raging a sudden squall that could easily rival the old record in Dragonspine’s storm history. I guess I’ll be staying overnight here, after all. “I’m perfectly used to your honesty by now, considering how long we’ve known each other for.” What great timing. Comedic, even. Ha, ha, ha.

“I suppose so.” A pregnant silence has you shifting in your seat, suddenly favouring you putting your weight onto your hands while the waiting continues. You huff at him. “Based on the simple fact that you and I have been in close relations for as long as we have, _______, I have a proposition.”

You swallow, offering a small nod for him to continue, but before he does, he travels through his laboratory in search of something— a clipboard full of parchment that he brings along on his way back toward you.

“Firstly, am I correct in assuming that your menstrual cycle is regular, and you’re in decent health?”

“Albedo,” you start, tone unintentionally harsh. “Now it’s your turn to get to the point and ask your question.”

“… right, then.. Would you engage in coitus with me— for the sake of this experiment?”

“Archons alive,” you mutter with a shake of your head, “isn’t there some other way for you to figure it out?”

“Nothing so conducive. I’ve already had to eliminate the possibility of collecting a semen sample and examining it beneath the microscope as there’s a probability that the results would end up showing no evidence of impact; the samples may look textbook but may be inert. Even more, I sincerely doubt that the focal strength of the lens would be enough to see the sample’s cellular makeup on such a microscopic level.”

You instantly hate that he has such excusable, sound logic so readily available.

“I suppose I understand why you’re having doubts about committing to something like this. While I’m not privy to your stance on having children, nor can I fully understand the complexities that may stem from making the decision to go through with pregnancy, I can at least empathize from the standpoint of being one of Klee’s guardians— being a parent isn’t easy.”

“No, it’s not,” you agree. “Albedo, i-if we go through with this, and you do end up being able to reproduce, this is exactly what would happen. I would get pregnant. I would become a parent. I really don’t know if I’m ready to take this risk…”

To your surprise, when you sit up on the edge of his bed, you catch his sour expression in your peripheral vision— it’s not one that you see often.

“Are you under the impression that I would toss you aside when the experiment was done?”

You open your mouth to speak, but only single syllable, unintelligible sounds come out. “I—”

“At the very least, I understand what the end result would mean should it be a positive one. You and I would have created a life together.” Your skin prickles, eyes wide and trained on your lap. “It is not a short term commitment. I wouldn’t allow myself to be held any less responsible for that life than you, ______. In this case, I suppose the parameters need to be corrected— not “nine-plus months”… I should allot for two decades, give or take a few more years…”

“T-Two decades,” your fried brain finally allows you to say. He hums, the dejected look on his face slowly morphing into one of fondness.

“It’s strange, but… I find myself eager to get started.”

“I-I… haven’t even said “yes” yet,” you murmur, eyes daring to rise to meet his. Instead, your lips immediately part.

Being the kind of “person” he is, Albedo had been created with multiple human intricacies left behind. Most times, his expression is calm, complacent, untelling— that of a gambler’s dream. There have been few occasions that have drawn out those different, pocketed looks, but you have experienced of him things like anger when his friends and comrades were injured; joy when Klee or the other Mondstadt children are with him, or when he receives your gift of the week; frustration over a failed experiment or an unexpected result; and most recently, disappointment, when you assumed he would abandon you and the child you both might make. And you thought that one would be the most shocking.

But this… What he wears now… is purely desire; a resultant lust having overcome him by the multiple prospects dangling before him like a carrot on a string. Should the experiment be successful, he would learn that he, an artificial being, is capable of procreating with a pure human. Zygote squares dance before his eyes, hypotheticals of traits and genotypes spread across sheets and sheets of parchment— would they be born male or female? Would they look like him or like you? A thought he believes strange crosses his mind— he only hopes that the child would have your eyes.

You know him well enough to figure that he’s going over every possible outcome and theory, always so entranced by them that he would jot them all down later. Now, it seems there’s only one thing stopping him from being able to get to that stage in the experiment. You.

And so, you nod. Albedo’s lips part, relieved.

“I need verbal consent from you to begin this experiment, ______.”

“Yes, then,” you say, your voice trembling. “I give my consent. Let’s… try and make a baby.”

Your attempt at making the situation less stiff and formal somehow seems to work, the skin near Albedo’s eyes suddenly crinkling into a soft, appreciative smile.

“Thank you, ______. If it’s alright, I do have a few more questions for you before we begin.”

“Mm… hm.”

“Are there any physical restrictions I should know about? Present or past injuries that may affect you during intercourse?”

“Um, no, none that I can recall,” you say after a moment of consideration. He jots something onto the clipboard.

“And your last menstrual cycle,” he goes on, “when did it end?”

“I-I—” you blink rapidly, not expecting him to consider such a thing as necessary input, spluttering as you wrack your brain for an answer, “m-maybe… ah… It was… nine days ago, I-I think.”

Albedo nods, writing another set of words down. “Then that’ll put you in the fertile cusp…”

“… f-fertile cusp,” you repeat, watching him intently.

“Yes— from what I remember when I studied cellular anatomy, the first twelve days after the cycle ends is when fertility is at its peak.”

“No, I-I know that, it’s just…” And you can’t stop the small laugh that escapes you. “It’s all so formal and proper. I know it’s for the sake of collecting data for the experiment,” you quickly add, “but having intercourse… having sex… isn’t such a stiff affair.” But then you laugh again, apologizing under your wheezing breaths when you notice the unintentional pun you’d made, somehow made funnier as you know Albedo wouldn’t have caught it, himself.

He ponders your words, though it doesn’t take him long to acknowledge the truth in them. For as unknowledgeable as he is on these human intricacies, the colloquial term of “making love” surely didn’t involve note-taking or detailed inquiries— he’d figured this much. In exchange for you having become a willing participant in this fool’s experiment, you at least deserve a memorable experience.

“Ah, my apologies. You’re right. While I know of the act, engaging in coitus and its technicalities is something I’m unfamiliar with. “Making love”…” Your skin prickles at the sudden change in intonation. “It’s a romantic endeavour, isn’t it. Done between… loving partners.”

Even though it had been the first question to have asked you, he found himself pushing it further down the list, preferring to subject you the other eight questions ahead of it— have you had any other sexual partners recently? Why is it he couldn’t simply say the words?

“It can be, yes,” you say. “Some people have sex rather suddenly, too, and it’s not always between lovers. It’s not always romantic, either, but it deserves passion.”

It’s because you don’t want to know if she’s been involved with anyone else, he realizes, somehow brought to the conclusion without a second thought. Anyone else besides you.

Albedo sets the clipboard down next to the bed. How is it possible to have found yourself at such a conclusion, he wonders. But then he regards his memories, his past thoughts, managing to find your image dancing before his eyes and recall your words ringing in the space between his ears. He remembers the joy stemming from each of the many times you’d come to see him— out of the handful of people he’d bother to get involved with, get to know closely, you were the one whose company he enjoyed the most.

Never forcing himself into uncomfortable social settings, or into the public limelight whenever he achieved a new feat that might’ve deserved to be celebrated; always respecting his desire to keep his number of relationships to a bare minimum, aware of just how exhaustive maintaining them gets for the man— you made knowing you so much easier for him. Those same human emotions he’d have certain trouble in understanding were explained and shown to him just as naturally as it had been to breathe, yet the one bit of you he hadn’t yet seen a side of is love. Adoration. The same kind of fondness he feels deep down in his heart when he looks at you.

Be it for the sake of or borne through the results of this experiment… I’d like to experience it from you, if only once.

Now, standing before you, arms straight down at his sides, the tips of his fingers skim across the ends of his pant legs as if… suddenly shy.

Your eyes quickly dart over to the paper, and despite it being upside down, you can still make out some of the words of the unanswered first question. Realizing that he must’ve intentionally skipped it, you decidedly take one of his cold hands into your yours and force your fingers between his. Gaze lidded, he stares down at them, his thumb rising to rub into the fleshy part of it.

“I haven’t been with anyone else, Albedo,” you whisper, flexing your hand in a gentle squeeze. “You would be my first.” He swallows thickly. “And… I think this is why I’d been nervous to agree to this, but… this is your first time, too, right?”

“Yes,” he says, just as quiet. “It is.”

“Then…” You tug lightly on his hand, and with little resistance, he moves toward you, only a single, clumsy step necessary to find himself between your legs. Startled by the closeness, he raises his other hand to your shoulder to brace himself against you. “I’m glad. If it were anybody else, I don’t think I would have agreed.”

Albedo’s eyes wander, and the hand pressed against your collarbone travels in tandem, sliding to hold you by the underside of your jaw— something he’d seen while in the city of Mondstadt. He thought about it often. “And why is that?” Does it feel nice? He wishes he could read your mind, but it becomes telling in your warm gaze, in your sweet smile, in the way that under his cool touch, he witnesses your flesh turn feverish, made worse only by the thumb that caresses your cheek. You like it. You like him— he thanks the God who heard his wish.

You lean your weight into his palm, eyelashes fluttering. “Kiss me, Albedo. Let me show you why.”

He nods, a stiff gesture. Your warm hands drag him from his frigidity, placed on either side of the smooth porcelain of his face, and into you, your lips parting only far enough from each other that his may fit between them. It is almost a too perfect fit, he notes, even when you’re moving them.

You encourage him to move along with you, chin nudging his lightly enough that he gets the message, and his thin fingers shift to wind almost desperately through your hair, pulling himself closer into you that your chests nearly touch. For a moment, he sways, put off balance by his lilted stance between your thighs, but then you shuffle backwards on his mattress, leaving enough of a space opens that he’s able to kneel on it. You smile against his lips, taking in a soft breath through your nose.

Albedo, as someone who had only ever witnessed a proper kiss once during a walk through Mondstadt, and who had only ever read about them in the few romance novels he’d dared to borrow from Lisa out of pure curiosity, could only follow your lead. Sure, Klee had often given him a few pecks on his cheek here and there as she grew up, but in his almost five hundred years of existence, this had been his first kiss. So gentle, so warm, so plush— oh, your lips are so nice to feel, he thinks, his own cheeks slowly heating up.

A hand leaves him, lamely skirting down the curves in his shoulder and trailing over the heavily adorned end of his sleeve, only to jump to claim his waist by the material of his indigo shirt. Your fingers curl into the fabric, dragging him further onto the bed with you; he relents by swinging his other leg over yours, effectively straddling you.

Albedo feels light-headed. Oh, is the sound he makes when he finally realizes why. I need to breathe. A giggle finally has him pulling back, you, watching as he struggles to catch his breath with a slight smirk on your face.

“If you take smaller breaths through your nose, or, when we stop, you won’t lose your breath as fast,” you quietly explain.

“… I know that,” he murmurs, nudging into your lips with his. “But I don’t want to stop.” Your eyes widen in shock at his bold - for him - admission. “______… teach me how to make love to you.”

Truly, you wouldn’t have expected those words to come from him, not in a million years. It leaves you startled, hot, like one of the dying embers in the cave’s fire brought to life by the fierce wind. You take a moment, pulling your hands away from him to let out a deep, shuddering, embarrassed breath into your palms.

“… w-what makes you think I know much more than you,” you say, quieted and muffled by your own hands.

“I’m simply aware of how vast your capacity to show tenderness and appreciation to others is. That is a form of love, isn’t it?”

“A more innocent kind of love, maybe,” you answer, dropping your hands to rest on his knee. “That part is easy, since it can just come naturally… but this—? I haven’t… I only know a little of what to do…”

“Then, shall we keep learning, together? I’ve read that intercourse can be painful, and I don’t wish for you to experience that discomfort. Will you show me what you know?”

“O-Of course, j-just… don’t expect me to be good at it, okay? I… I’ve only read about these things.”

Gently, his lips press to the corners of yours, making you squirm restlessly beneath him. Naturally, the books you had read had been from Lisa’s personal collection, and were not of the safe-for-work variety. Hardly educational and deeply inappropriate, it certainly left an imprint on your mind’s eye— even more so considering you were about to do some of those things with him.

In steeling yourself, Albedo notes how the look in your eyes have changed. As if you’d remembered something important, “Albedo, switch places with me.”

He nods once, his hands shifting to settle at your waist. With surprising ease and a knee pressed into the mattress once more, he turns, spinning you atop him. You’re easily startled by the motion, grabbing at his shoulders to steady yourself until he settles.

“I think I quite like this,” Albedo admits, once he’d gotten comfortable. “You, sitting on my lap.” You kiss him chastely.

“… it’s one of the best seats I’ve ever sat in, that’s for sure,” you murmur, hands smoothing across the exposed skin on his arms. You pause, suddenly flushed with an embarrassed warmth. “Th-that came out too easily, I—”

“No,” he interrupts you, and the hands holding your sides offer you a gentle squeeze. “I liked that, too.”

A dry chuckle leaves you, but not at his expense— you’re nervous to start what you’d sought to do, your heart beating anxiously beneath your ribcage as you slide a hand back up to his shoulder. Keeping yourself balanced against him, you slip your free hand between the two of you to finally, finally address the obvious, growing bulge settled between his thighs.

Albedo chokes, elbows buckling from where they hold him upright when your palm, curved like a cup, rests against the dense tent of his black shorts.

“_-______, what—”

“If, maybe, you thought I never noticed…” you lean into him, and in pressing your lips to the shell of his ear, “of course, I noticed.” Pride swells in your chest when you feel him suddenly tremble underneath you, his eyes wide.

Your smiling lips find his one last time before you’re sliding off of his lap and onto the floor between his knees. Confused and slightly dazed, Albedo goes to grab your arm and stop you. “______, what are you doing now?”

“… do you trust me?” you ask, rather than providing him with an explanation.

“Of course I do, but—””Then,” you carefully pry his fingers away from your arm and set it back in his lap, “let me try something. Work with me, okay?”

After a moment’s hesitation, he finally relents in the form of a nod, and it takes but one more steeling breath for you to commit.

Once more, your hands slide up his torso, creeping along his chest until reaching the golden belt slung over his shoulder. After a minute of trying to figure out how to unlatch it, you sigh defeatedly. “Albedo…”

“You should’ve just asked in the first place,” he tuts, staring down at you through lidded eyes.

“I didn’t think a belt could be so complicated— what is it even for?” you rhetorically add in a murmur.

“It pins my coat shut,” he still replies. You refrain from making eye contact when he finally undoes the pin from the backside of the belt, and with a click, the two pieces around the flap of white fabric from his coat separate, slipping over Albedo’s shoulders and landing on the ruffled blanket behind him. “There.”

“Good. Now, take your coat off.” He complies, shrugging it off of his shoulders and letting it slip down his arms. Your hands lift from your lap and skirt across his, trailing up his clothed thighs and up his waist, and tucking beneath the hem of his indigo shirt to take the zipper of his shorts between two trembling fingers. “…a-and lift your hips up,” you mumble, upon pulling it down and unclasping its neighbouring button.

“Okay.” You’re quick to drag them away from his hips when his ass rises off of the bed, the clinking of his metal accessories jingling when they hit the floor before you. Your jaw falls open— with your eyes trained lower than where his knees sat parallel to the mattress, you hadn’t at all notice that you’d pulled down more than just his shorts. “______…”

“I-I didn’t mean to move that fast,” you swear, eyes wide and struggling to stay on his. He looks at you, waiting for your next move with his teeth pinching the inside of his cheek. “But, um…” You dare to glance down, and sigh. “… there really isn’t a point to me being nervous anymore. It’s… You… are right in front of me now.”

“That’s right,” Albedo says. You have to hide your surprise when he leans forward to touch your cheek with his cold, gloved fingertips; a supporting gesture, one with his own brand and level of comfort that he could muster. “You have me right here in front of you.”

Somehow, you find yourself being grateful in the silliest of ways, unable to help the way your mind takes you to the time of Albedo’s creation. Proportionate in every beautifully normal way, from the length of his torso to the expanse of each of his creamy white thighs; from the average length of his cock and its surprisingly wide girth, to how its head seemed to glow with rouge and how his balls hung before you in near perfect spheres— you almost ask him to undress the rest of himself, but as your gaze traveled even further downward to where his knee-high black boots both end and begin, squeezing the flesh of those same thighs you’d begun to adore, you stop yourself.

No, these should definitely stay on.

“You asked me to show you what I know, right?” Albedo blinks down at you, where your eyes rest on his twitching shaft almost too intently. You wet your lips, and finally wrap your warm fingers around his base; he flinches. “Then… what I know is that… supposedly… men really like this part,” you murmur against him, lips then pursing atop his blooming head.

Albedo involuntarily hisses, a hand rising to rest on the crown of his head in disbelief while the other fruitlessly clutches at the sheets beneath him. Having hoped to catch him off guard, you’d poked your tongue out and aimed it at the small slit in the centre, succeeding when his hips leap upward under your soft strokes.

“I-I’m beginning to understand… w-why — ahh…”

It tastes a little salty, you note. Gently, you curl your tongue beneath the head of his cock, and run it along its soft ridge, eliciting the softest of moans from the man sitting above you. In the corner of your eye, you watch his eyes flutter as the pleasure registers and his hands search for a new place to anchor themselves.

“You can touch me, too, Albedo,” you tell him, dropping your head a little lower to flatten your tongue against the base of his shaft. You drag up, sure to collect the small vein pulsing at his underside as you make your way to the top again, “I don’t bite, after all,” before collecting him into your mouth as far as it would let you, your mouth immediately hollowing around him following your words.

You smooth out your tongue beneath him as your cheeks puff out before contracting, a torturous set of suctioning squeezes that has Albedo squirming in place. You shift your hands to rest atop his thighs, only pressing down whenever he bucks just a little too much for you keep up with.

You draw back only slightly, the underside of his cockhead having quickly become the new target of your ministrations. Albedo’s hips roll, an automatic reaction he decided he didn’t care that he had no control over— your lips, your tongue, the heat of your mouth, the hot breaths you let out over his aching erection, oh— he wanted more of it.

Few things exist in this world that he desired as achingly so, if only the positive results of an experiment that led him closer to Gold’s expectations of him and the well-being of his friends. In the now, he simply desired you.

Albedo gasps, and as if on instinct, he lurches forward to hunch over you, almost throwing himself off of the edge of the mattress, and wind his fingers through your hair from behind. “-_____!!” For a moment, you panic, your hands flying up to brace yourself between his thighs, not having expected such a knee-jerk reaction from the alchemist that had him hitting the back of your throat. “Hngh!!”

As deeply as possible, you inhale around him, though very little air passes into your lungs. You shift higher onto your knees, your hands tapping against Albedo’s thighs in alarm the longer your throat remains constricted by his cock. But his head is thrown back, lips parted in pure awe and relishing at how tightly you’re able to wind around him, and how fast the strange burning sensation he’d only felt that one time before in his long life creeps up on him—!

Before he can warn you, and before he can even register what was about to happen, Albedo comes, his hot seed spurting heavily down the back of your throat. His groans are deep, filled with a vibrato that would almost tickle if not for the immense pressure. Lost in his pleasure, it takes him a moment to register that the strange flapping on his legs had been you, pleading for him to release your hair.

His hands fly up from you instantly, his groan sharp when you pull off of and away from him, swallowing thickly. “-_____—” your attempt at a proper first breath has you coughing a little, massaging your throat from the outside as if it would soothe what had just been done to the inside. “A… Are you alright? I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to…. do that.”

But you’re shaking your head, hand raised to wave him down.

“It’s… not your fault,” you tell him, your voice testing. “Honestly,” and you spare a chuckle, “that just meant I was doing something right.” Albedo frowns in his own confusion.

“Your pain was… a good thing?” he asks. “That’s slightly illogical.”

“I meant before that part. Your reaction… It felt good in my mouth, didn’t it? It must have… considering how quickly you came.” Hesitant, his concern for you still ever present in his expression, he nods. “I promise I’m okay, Albedo. But… we should keep going, hm?”

Albedo watches you, still knelt between him, his thoughts racing and unpinnable, most of them plaguing him with the guilt that he’s hurt you— but you only smile, your eyes squinted, and the tears collected along them threatening to spill. He enjoys it when you smile.

“Before,” he starts, his tone hopeful in his brand of emotion, “you said I can touch you.” You nod, your chest heaving with your breaths. “Does that permission still stand?”

“Wh— Y-Yes, of course, it does,” you answer, eyebrow raised in confusion. Albedo smooths his hand across your cheek, his thumb running along the soft skin beneath your one eye to clear away the bit of tears that finally fell.

“Then, I’d like to try touching you to get a similar reaction out of you,” he explains. “I’d like to make you feel as good as I just was.”

Lips parted, you consider his request. While a part of you desired nothing more than for him to reciprocate what you had just done to him, it’s difficult for you to attempt to escape the embarrassment it would bring you. Whether he would’ve been knelt before you, pushing your thighs apart whenever they might go to squeeze his head between them, or if he’d pull you to sit above his face, hold you in place, and—

No, no, no-no-no— either of those things are just too much to get him to do for his first time! you think, trying desperately to cast the details of Lisa’s personal collection out of your head to no avail. If your desire wasn’t showing before, it certainly should be now. So… i-if he wants to do this, if he’s really serious about it…

“… please, then, ‘bedo,” you murmur, leaning just a little deeper into his gloved palm. “Please touch me.”

Over and over, Albedo has managed to surprise you, though more than anything, it had been his astute eagerness that has thrown you for a loop. Despite his usual claims of lacking most human emotions, he seems to have no trouble displaying lust before you. Whether it’s expressed in regards to the promise of achieving positive results, or, as the potentially deluded area of your brain suggests, in regards to him harbouring a positive emotion, one aimed toward you, you weren’t privy.

This time, the surprise comes from him when he gently pulls you up onto your feet, him now standing with you, and spinning you on the spot to take his former place on the bed. You blink, slightly dizzied by the motion, and make to press your palms down flat to steady yourself, when Albedo leans into you, one of his own hands coming to rest next to yours. The other, however—

“Lift your hips up, ______,” he says, his thumb pressing forward to shove the button above the zipper to your trousers out through the hole, “and take off your jacket.”

You nod, swallow the lump in your sore throat, and shift your weight onto your hands that allows him to slide your thick, woollen tights down to your ankles, all in a single moment. Unlike you, however, he’s left your undergarment sitting askew around your hips— somehow, you manage to dub this even more embarrassing than if you were left half nude.

“I’m still right here in front of you,” he reminds you, once more leaning forward into your space, chin tilted toward his chest. You straighten your back, enough so that you’re able to meet his lips, and he gratefully obliges you, his own eyes shuttering closed upon contact. You part from him, grinning softly.

Albedo’s lips part to allow the tip of his glove’s middlemost finger to become pinched between his teeth— he pulls away, the dual-coloured leather falling against his chin before he discards it to the cave behind him, and reaches down between you. You catch his hesitation and decidedly remain silent until he finally moves, a curious hand coming to rest just above your pubic bone. Your breath barely hitches when his fingers curl to dig beneath the elastic banding on your underwear, only to pause with a single pad resting only an inch away from—

“I believe I asked you to remove your jacket,” he murmurs, eyes trained to where his hand waits.

“I— oh, I, o-okay, right…” Careful not to bump him, you begin shimmying out of your moisture-wicking sweater, tugging your arms and head from the holes, and tossing it behind Albedo, leaving you sitting in a half-as-thin turtleneck.

“Good. I’m going to begin now.”

You barely get a nod out when he’s already pressed down atop the flesh above your clit, your body jerking forward at the sudden burn of pleasure. In favour of helping Albedo chase his own release, you woefully chose to neglect the potential of your own, but this didn’t mean it hadn’t been sitting idle up until now, waiting for him to do something about it.

In all your time of knowing the man, you never would have thought you would see him make such an erotic expression, and having been blessed to, you still haven’t recovered from it. Brows knitted and eyes squeezed shut, teeth pinching his bottom lip through his failed self-restraint; you’d never seen a rosier red before than on those smooth porcelain cheeks of his— it sent waves of warmth to pool in your gut, a blindsiding strike against you as you became forced to wait your turn.

“From what I recall from my anatomy studies, the clitoris has over ten thousand nerve endings, so in a state of arousal…” He swirls his finger against it again and you jolt, your own hand rising from the bed to clutch at his wrist. “… the effect becomes heightened when it is physically stimulated.” His eyes flit up to watch your reaction when he moves lower, the tip of his soft digit catching under its hood; your trembling lips have parted, and your eyes are barely open to see him. You only feel when two of his fingers have dipped into you— your wide eyes snap up to him, cheeks flushed at the sudden squelch. “I see you didn’t even need physical stimulation for this— you’re quite wet, ______.”

Your grip on his wrist is shaky when it tightens; another indication of your arousal, Albedo notes. He doesn’t move his fingers as you had expected him to — they solicit themselves before your entrance, swimming in the slick that has gathered there, his reach managing to stretch far enough that it nudges your throbbing clit — and your mind immediately equates the emptiness within you to torture when you begin clenching around nothing.

“I-I don’t know if you’re teasing me on purpose, Albedo,” you start, your nails suddenly biting into the flesh of his hand, “but I’m begging you to stop.”

Your ears ring a little when the softest of chuckles fill them; you shoot a glare up at the alchemist. “No adverse effects to your cognition. If tempered, a high percentage persists, even under that same duress—” You whack his arm, at least hard enough that even he would feel it. “Ouch.”

“This isn’t a live anatomy study,” you joke at him, though the same bite you threw at him along with your knuckles are present in your tone. Albedo blinks, before his lips spread into a thin, almost apologetic, line.

“A habit,” he says with a shake of his head. “I’ll try to be more conscious of it.”

“J-Just… be less embarrassing about it,” you plead, turning your head away.

“Hm? Why is it embarrassing?” Albedo straightens, his back holding him upright instead of his other hand— he pinches your chin between two fingers, and turns you back toward him. “Sexual intercourse is an embodiment of what it means to be human, no? Without procreation, life would end.”

“Y-Yes, that’s all true, but… it’s not why I’m embarrassed. I-It’s not even you getting all technical while your fingers are—” as if cued, they slip into you once more, a gasp fleeing your wide open mouth in shock. “A-Albedo!?”

“So, is it me that you’re embarrassed over?” You wince, his fingers curling upwards as if searching. “Is it what I’m doing to you that’s made your body so warm?” His wrist turns, his other knuckles catching on your clit again and making you lurch into him. “Is it that my hand is so deep in your heat that’s making you look at me with such delirium?”

Your body spasms; you huff at him when he draws back.

“W… what are you even saying,” you pant, your hold on him faltering.

“I am only curious as to why you’ve been staring at me with such blatant adoration. I don’t believe I’ve done anything out of the ordinary to deserve it, and yet…” His own eyes move to meet yours. “I find myself enjoying having your attention on me.”

You could’ve quite literally melted on the spot, if not for the bitter chill filling the cave.

Albedo shifts before you, and seats himself to your right, his sole gloved hand curling around the underneath of your one knee to be thrown over his lap, the other remaining behind to slide up toward your hip. His fingers tug at the elastic of your underwear, collecting them around a knuckle and drawing them down your raised hips to your ankles, the wrinkled fabric pooling around the toes of your left foot.

“Keep your eyes on me, ______,” he says, barely audible. “Watch closely.”

You manage to amaze yourself at just how wet you’d truly become by his hand, the cloth surrounding your cunt and the blistering winds of the squall offering enough muffling that you hadn’t heard the squelching, and only felt it. You didn’t think it could get more embarrassing, but now, the sounds were out in the open, the progressively more intense smacks from his palm hitting resounding before you and belting between the stone walls. But you keep your eyes on him still, just as he’d asked you to, and let the heat continue to bloom.

His attention on you is somehow daunting— bottom lip caught between pearl-white teeth and brows furrowed; usually bright eyes darkened in his focus, occasionally flitting up to see the kind of expression you wear with each new ministration.

You shudder beneath him when the smooth skin of his thumb presses against your clit again, his fingers still curling and stirring your warm insides. An eyebrow raises, pleased by your reaction— Albedo rolls the pad of his finger against you in the hopes that you keep squirming beneath him, that your soft and barely controlled moans keep escaping you, all for him, all from him. Somehow it’s everything and not enough for you, though it shows when you roll your hips toward him and against his wetted wrist.

“I-It’s… how… can you can be… so… calm through this…!?” You pant, your fingers tightening at the breast of his shirt. Shivering beneath his languid touch, Albedo lets you keen against his smooth hand in a slow grind, his three middle fingers carefully pumping in and out of you, each draw pulling back more and more of your slick.

Eyes blown wide, Albedo takes his free hand and guides your lips back to his, tongue unhesitant in pushing past your gritted teeth to find your tongue. A moan escapes you when they curl together, your thighs instinctively trying to press together to curb the heat that starts pulsing between them. Albedo pushes them back open, eyes lazily shifting to the side in time to watch you begin to shake.

“Calm?” he repeats, having pulled away, and with a single stroke, you seize, both hands jumping to grasp at his wrist in an attempt to steady yourself through your first orgasm. “With you?” He presses his lips to the side of your head, a soft groan escaping him the tighter you manage to clench around his digits. “I’m not calm at all with you. Especially as you are now.”

“A-Al… bedo,” you whine, clutching at his shirt like a vice, nails barely digging through the fabric to reach him, but where you touch burns, only spurring him on to keep you sobbing until you reach the end of your high.

“Your voice is very pleasant when you orgasm, ______.” You seethe a harsh breath through your teeth when he retracts his fingers, and as if through a fogged lens, Albedo stares at his pale fingers coated in your release, watching it glisten under the glow of the fire as he turns them. “Hm.”

“… Albedo?” you call, voice hoarse but questioning.

“The viscosity is almost slime-like,” he notes— of course, he would, you think, biting back a chuckle. But then he does the unimaginable, though in his case, you’re surprised at yourself for not have expecting it— he tastes it, tastes you, his tongue poking out to lick up from his knuckle to the tip of his index.

“A-Albedo—””The hydrogen potential is rather acidic,” he goes on, completely disregarding your huff of impatience at being cut off, “but it’s more mild than I expected. It seems there isn’t enough here to collect as a proper sample, however. Before we continue, I’d like to—”

“A-Another time!” you half-heartedly promise, knowing exactly what he’d been about to ask you. Genuinely hoping he won’t actually hold you to your word, “P-Please, Albedo— I’m already exhausted from the trip here, and after all of this, I-I don’t know if I’ll last until the end if you were to do all of that again…”

“Oh. Was it that enjoyable?” he asks, and to your disbelief, he licks the rest of his fingers off before curving his head to better meet your gaze. Instantly, you’re scowling at his knowing glance. “Very well, then; I don’t mind postponing that until “another time”.”

You wheeze tiredly.

With a hand resting against your lower back, he places his other against your sternum and gently pushes you backwards and down into his mattress. Slipping his leg out from under you, he then straddles your one thigh and carefully lifts your other out in front of him. You instinctively flinch, your gaze quick to travel down to where Albedo’s erection sits atop your skin. As if testing, he shifts his hips forward, and drags his dick along your leg.

You barely catch the soft, wounded breath that passes through his parted lips, eyes squeezed shut once more as he ruts himself along you. Your own breathing is weak, both heart and mind stupefied by the scene before you— you can’t help yourself from reaching for him, for it, and cup your hand over its pretty curve.

Albedo gasps, instinctively reaching to steady himself against the bed when your thumb starts rubbing along his blushing cockhead.

“Albedo,” you call to him, voice thick with a sudden want the alchemist hadn’t been prepared to hear. “Albedo, please… I’m ready for you. I want you.”

In turn, you hadn’t been prepared for his eagerness— the way he helps you scooch further back on the mattress, and how easily he’d seemed to fit himself in between your warmed thighs; how sweetly he stares down at you, his pale pink lips curving into the slightest of smiles when you start uncontrollably grinning at him, and how soothing and gentle his touch is when he runs his cool hands along the burning flesh beneath your turtleneck. You shudder in your anticipation, a strong pulse beating from the center of your abdomen just wildly enough for him to feel it when his palm rests atop it. He maneuvers his knees beneath you, and in pressing his hips to meet your pelvis, his own arousal finally nudges into yours, the both of you flinching with a desperate keen.

A single hand comes down to rest on the bare skin of your midriff, hidden beneath your shirt, the other curled around the base of his erection to poise himself before you. “T-Then… I’ll deny you no longer.”

A strangled hiss passes through clenched teeth as Albedo rocks his hips forward, the head of his cock gently fitting just past your folds. You can’t help the shocked gasp that flees your parted lips; you take up the bedding in an iron grip to brace yourself as his own tightens around your hip, him pushing past each ring of muscle with a heavy breath and the smallest of grunts— he’s hot, and incredibly hard, and it sends a rippling ache through your core the longer he takes in fully sheathing himself within you, through no fault of his own. Your nerves have made you tense and tighten up, made you tremble around his throbbing girth so intensely that he’s forced to take pause with a choked breath—

“S-Sorry!” you gasp out, blinking rapidly between him and the ceiling. “S-Sorry, Albedo, I-I just—!”

“I know,” he interrupts, voice slightly haggard. “T-Take a moment. Breathe, ______.” You nod, likely too many times than necessary. “Does it hurt?”

“… y-yes, but…” You sniffle. “There’s pleasure with it, too. For my first time, i-it’s to be expected…” The alchemist stares down at you, unsure of his next move, but then you raise your shaky arms from your side to reach for him, hands taking the cool skin of his cheeks into your palms. “I-I need a distraction,” you murmur. “Kiss me, Albedo, a-at the same time.”

“… alright.”

Albedo lets you pull him down toward you, slowly so as not to hurt him, as well, allowing him to shift around you and reposition himself. At the last second, he leans forward out of your hands to claim your expectant lips on his own, immediately parting them with his tongue. The gesture had sent a rush of heat through you, miraculously allowing Albedo to thrust his hips into yours just a little more. Your moan is sharp into his open mouth, a whine more than anything else, and your shuddering has your legs threatening to either give out beneath him or curl around his slim waist— he notices this, and instead denies you from choosing on your own when he lets himself tip forward until fully sheathed, swallowing both your tongue and your voice when you cry out past his lips.

I-It hurts, you can only exclaim in your thoughts, your entire body lit up like an Inazuman firework when your legs kick out behind him— it hurts.

Willing yourself to focus on anything but where the pain pulses most, you search around the cave once more, chest heaving from a lack of air, mindlessly identifying the many small objects scattered about the laboratory— flasks and beakers, pencils of various lengths, jars of full and half-empty oil paints of all shades, piles upon piles of paper weighed down by miscellaneous paper weights— “______?”

You tear your gaze away from the inactive air gas burner sitting on the furthest table, and force it to meet that of the man’s lying above you. “H-Hm?”

“Are you alright?” Albedo asks. In the corner of your eye, you spot his one arm beginning to tremble. “You went quiet.” Shakily, you lift your arm to support it by his elbow; he spares it a glance before looking to you again. “______?”

“I-I’m… I’m okay,” you say before sighing, knowing you sound unconvincing. “Are you?” He hesitates in answering.

“… a human’s internal temperature is normally around thirty-seven degrees, but s-somehow—” Albedo exhales, and through squinted eyes of your own, you see one of his twitch in his struggle to adjust “— it feels much hotter i-inside you…” Despite your best effort not to, you laugh, your free hand rising quickly to try and cover it up, but it flies loose; somehow, Albedo finds himself displeased with your reaction. “______…”

“I-I’m sorry, I-I just wasn’t expecting that kind of answer, though maybe I should have…” You reach up to hold his face in your hand. “But you’re okay? You aren’t hurt at all, right? I know it’s a little… t-tight.”

“All the more reason why if either of us should be more in pain, it’s you,” he tries to reason, but you shake your head.

“I just… needed a moment to get used to you,” you tell him in earnest, “and I think laughing helped. You’re bigger than your fingers, after all.”

“I’m sorry if I hurt you,” he immediately says.

“It’s only n-natural that it would hurt a little— d-don’t worry, okay?” He nods, albeit reservedly. “C… Can you try moving now?”

“If you’re sure?” And you nod back, your hand still wrapped around his arm providing a squeeze of encouragement.

“Please.” With a nod, he gently forces his hips from yours before thrusting back into you. Your grip on his forearm falters, dropping in favour of holding his wrists, instead.

While he knows a human’s autonomic functions obviously accounted for it, Albedo still found it amazing how easily you’d seemed to swallow him back up. Maybe it had been your laughter— you just needed a moment to loosen up, and not just physically. Despite everything that had already happened, you’d still been in disbelief that it did happen in the first place, and with Mondstadt’s chief alchemist; your dear friend.

Your own hips shift, your joints twisting to give rise for your thighs to press against Albedo’s sides. Albedo groans softly, soft hands moving to curl his arms around them and pulling you even tighter against his pelvis. You jolt, a strange sensation suddenly blossoming where his cockhead presses upwards— you just knew that curve of his would mean some kind of trouble for you.

“… oh?” Looking away from his strained expression, you find him focused on your lower abdomen, where he decidedly places his hands over. He presses down around it, your soft flesh pooling beneath his thin fingers.

The smallest of gasps escapes him when he readjusts his stance to the edge of his mattress to push back into you, only for the imprint of his cock to, once again, reappear beneath your skin. He pauses to look to you, and though you look unharmed, you’ve bitten down so intently on your knuckles, your nose scrunched and eyebrows bunched toward each other, in an attempt to suppress the sounds threatening to leak from you.

“______,” Albedo calls. When your only reply is a weary glance and an overwhelmed huff, he leans over you, his hands taking yours from over your mouth to pin them at either side of your head against the mattress. But the movement hilts him deeper inside you, tearing a whine from your throat and sending a shiver through your body. “… are you alright?”

“I-I—” Albedo rolls his hips ever so slightly. “’m f-fine… It… jus’ feels… hngh… g-good.”

“I’m glad,” he pants, shoving his fingers between yours and pressing them further into the duvet. “I was worried you were in pain.” Drawing his hips back, he slowly drives back in, lips parted and jaw hung when the immense sensation of your engulfing warmth overtakes him.

“N-no pain,” you promise, giving his hands a light squeeze each and him, a curdling smile. “Y-You can… m-move faster, Albedo...”

“If you’re sure, then,” he murmurs.

He drops onto his elbows, hands still claiming yours and his lips only inches away from each other— it doesn’t take him long to decide to claim them, either, pressing into you and prying your willing mouth open with his tongue. You don’t try to contain the moan he bullies out of you when he begins sucking at your tongue, in the same moment he draws back once more and thrusts into you as if sheathing his sword. Your body tenses, eyes flying open when you feel the head of his cock reach the deepest part of you—oh, this part hurts, you think, squeezing his hands just a little harder, and once more, he stops, turquoise eyes joining yours in a panic.

“That hurt this time, didn’t it,” he says, eyebrows turned down in concern.

You nod a little, and take a deep breath in an attempt to slow down your pounding heart. “Y-Yes,” you say. “You just went a l-little too deep…”

“I’m sorry,” he immediately says. He lowers his head to rest his cheek against yours, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear when he kisses the side of your head, “I won’t make that mistake again.”

You whimper in response, and nod probably more times than you’d meant to. It takes a moment for the initial shock and discomfort to fade, but then you’re nodding again, this time, in encouragement. Albedo takes your words into account, supposing that he just might’ve underestimated his own length in contrast with your depth… He’s hesitant to move again, though he knows it comes down to the amount of self-restraint he can muster, wanting nothing more than to continue with you.

Albedo startles when you take matters into your own hands and roll your hips up, slowly sliding yourself up and down his length with your features still verily pinched, though certainly, they’re steadily masked by that same pleasure you’d mentioned feeling earlier; no longer a stranger to the sensation himself, he dares to thrust his hips once more, a little more controlled, yet with his expected inexperience; jerkish.

It doesn’t hurt you anymore, you realize when one of his strokes manages to pull a shaky moan out of you. No longer are your breaths coated with your discomfort; Albedo finally found a rhythm that kept him steady and you, painless— one that only draws out more and more of your whines and whimpers and his heavy breaths to be pressed into each other’s skin; one that has your arms wrapped around each other like vices while he continues rutting into you, your fingers digging into the flesh over his shoulder blades to ground yourself atop the creaking bed—

“Can… can we move?” Albedo suddenly asks in separate, laboured breaths, his arms uncurling from around you.

“M… ove?” you repeat, your head too occupied by him to register what he means— “We’re… already moving,” you jokingly manage to conjure. But you relent. “… ’kay.”

Huffing, Albedo slides his arms beneath your shoulders and sits you upright over his thighs. The non-exhausted part of you is startled when he rises onto his knees to crawl closer to the wall the length of the bed touches, finally sitting back down with his back now leaning against it. Still having been connected with you when he unfolds his legs to shove them beneath your ass in the other direction, the jostling finally tears a long groan out from you when he manages to nudge something especially sensitive within you. Albedo sighs deeply, his hands coming to rest at your hips to ground himself when you clench around him.

“Hold onto me, ______,” he instructs, giving you a gentle squeeze. Your limp arms give rise to wrap around Albedo’s shoulders, holding him tighter to you and burying your face into the crook of his neck. You press your lips against his porcelain skin, leaving slight nips behind until you feel him shiver, and his hands drop under you to lift you off the mattress.

A strangled cry spews up from your throat when he sheathes himself into you again, burrowing itself beneath Albedo’s ear and strangely sending a shiver down his spine— he’s already said it before, but he tells you once more just how beautiful you sound when you peak; tells you how good it feels when you squeeze and keep him trapped inside of you.

Golden strands slip through each of your trembling fingers when you run them through his loose hair, having untied the band around it, and Albedo groans almost appreciatively from the sensation of them skimming across his scalp. Your balance in your knees is barely there, and your thighs are just strong enough to remain lifted off Albedo’s lap while he bucks up into you, but you’re gasping, the world suddenly turned on its axis when he spins you back onto the mattress, empty.

Dizzied, you look to him, meet his half-lidded, glossed over turquoise gaze, and swallow thickly when he hovers over you, his tip carelessly twitching against your pelvis. Is he… trying to hold himself back? you wonder, watching his lower lip become bullied by his upper teeth biting into them. With hot, trembling fingers, you guide him back inside you before reaching up between his arms and cradling his face in your hands, pulling him down to meet your lips. You swallow his heavy breaths until they turn into moans, hips driving into you, unrelenting, and only then do you part from him.

“P… please,” you beg, thumbs sweeping across his warm cheeks. “Please don’t hold back from me.”

“… b-but you… you’ve gotten so… so t-tight—” he chokes on his words. “… s-something… something is — hahh… I-I don’t wan… want to finish so… fast…!”

A sudden tension twists through your gut like a fire had been ignited there; you stretch your arm out across the messy sheets, small gasps escaping you with each of his thrusts, reaching for any semblance of stability along the thick duvet of his bed. His movement is fast, a hand suddenly darting out to pin your hand down before you.

“I-It’s okay,” you call out, your voice turning an octave higher than normal when he anchors himself deeper into you with a single, sharp thrust. “… I-I’m there, t-too!” You pant through gritted teeth, sucking in little air as you try to orient yourself— “I wanna hear you, ‘bedo,” you gasp out at him, “you sound so… beautiful…! I wanna hear you when you… c-come…! haah…!!”

He gasps again when you’ve suddenly tightened around him, his erratic pistoning into your wet cunt slowed by your own incoming high.

“Really?” he bites out, brows furrowed in concentration. Your nods are frantic, your hips rising to meet his with each of his thrusts, hips battering into yours almost painfully. “T-Together, then?” he groans, and allows you to further wind yourself around him, arms curling around his back, legs hooking around his waist, cunt fluttering and pulsating almost cruelly until the tears of pleasure formed along your eyelids finally spill over and roll down your cheeks when you finally peak.

“I’m… c-coming… hngh!!”

“C-Coming!” Albedo cries out through his teeth and into your shoulder, fingers forcing yours deeper into the blanket, hips stuttering sharply into yours for a last time as euphoria claims him. “______!” He finally goes still, relishing in the relief the snapping coil in his gut brings him when he spills inside you. You wince through your own gracious release, the head of his pulsating dick rutting lightly against your cervix with each of his tremors and jerks— Archons, it’s so h-hot! you mentally whine, eyes squeezed shut and arms wrapped tight around his back, holding him ever closer to you.

He had never experienced such a strong release of emotion as intense as he just did. It’s startling to him, maddening, that he’d never bothered to seek out such a feeling after that first time all those years ago— but now that he’s gone ahead and done such a thing with you? It stopped being an experiment to him long ago.

“______, I…” Albedo pants against your fast-rising chest, your heart beating too quickly for your own breathing to keep up, and presses his lips to it. “That felt wonderful…” Your arms, weighty from your exhaustion, slip from behind him until your elbows hit the mattress beneath you, only the tips of your trembling fingers deigning to remain behind to drag across his ribcage.

Delirious and still swimming in what pleasure remained from your shared release, you give a jerky nod of agreement, and turn your head ever so slightly to him to press your own lips against his hairline. The softest of laughs hits his ears, a sound that might’ve gone unheard under the howling winds outside the laboratory, but the existence of the five senses and your presence meant his hypersensitivity exists only for you right now— it’s loud and clear enough and he relishes in the fact that he’d been the first to hear it in such a circumstance.

A small part of him can’t help but wonder what Gold would say if she saw him neglecting her final task; if she saw him laying here with you. “Show me the truth and the meaning of this world”— he’d yet to even create a footing deep enough in preparation for the assignment. Simple hypotheses existed tucked between leather bindings and were only disturbed on relevant occasions. Should another note be added inside those bindings after today? His chin tilts your way as he ponders this, cheek smushed against your bicep while you struggle to catch your breath.

“… ‘bedo…” Pulling himself onto his forearms, he watches your throat bob when you swallow in your contemplation. “… in keeping this experiment honest, I… I think I need to tell you that… it’s going to be hard for me to call this… just that. An “experiment”.”

He hums, a wordless urging for you to keep speaking. For a moment, your eyes keep on searching the ceiling above you, half-lidded but bright, trying to pick your next words out carefully.

“I… I think I’ve tried not to acknowledge it all this time… and those women today got me to thinking about much more than whether or not you’re… fertile. Our relationship as coworkers, as friends— have they been the only kinds, all this time? I’m well aware that me cooking and baking for you and my doting on you whenever you’re in the city has far extended past my duties as the Knights of Favonius’s Records Keeper. And, at least in my eyes, it tiptoed the line keeping me from seeing you as just my friend. I just didn’t wish to acknowledge it.”

“… may I ask why?” he murmurs.

“Either… it was because I knew I’d be embarrassed if my feelings and emotions for you weren’t able to be reciprocated. That it would likely change our dynamic. I wasn’t prepared… to experience that distance from you if that was the result.”

Albedo agrees wordlessly, when his gaze falls from yours.

How should he even begin to articulate what his thoughts and logic are telling him to say to you? Through all his years awake and existing in Teyvat, he’s never had to bother with or confront his emotions— other than pure investigative curiosity or wholesome fascination, before coming to Mondstadt, he never experienced the warmth that those who would grow close to him would feel. The love and appreciation from Klee for taking care of her as her “big brother”; the camaraderie shared by Kaeya and the other Knights he’s associated with; even the admittedly strange kinship he once shared with Gold before abandoning him to his own devices— and then, despite swearing himself to his reclusiveness to Dragonspine, his visits to his Mondstadt laboratory would have him encounter you.

In being as work oriented as you are, you still often found yourself frequenting his laboratory to deliver field reports from those same Knights, and in knowing his more reserved nature, you respected it, discreetly leaving small gifts of thanks on behalf of yourself and the others; treats, should he “fancy a snack break?”; offering to run errands for him and his assistants in your downtime— if not for you making the decision to appear before him, he likely wouldn’t have bothered to ever make conversation with you. Most of his other relationships within the Knights of Favonius had always been strictly work ones, which he had been satisfied with.

The two of you hadn’t bothered to separate, in all definitions of the word, keeping his seed plugged inside of you with his flaccid cock. Holding onto you, he rolls, pulling the bedding up from under him to pull over you— he’d seen you had begun to shiver. Seeing the appreciative smile you’d put on for such a simple gesture that needed no thanks, Albedo finds he’s thanking himself for not deciding to keep his distance, after all.

“Maybe in the beginning, this would’ve been the case,” he admits. You nod, as if you were expecting this response. “In the months you first imposed yourself in my life, I had been content on holding the same distance I did as with the others, with you. You made it… complicated, I’ll say, to want to hold that distance any longer when you made it quite easy to be around you.”

“I-I knew it sometimes made you uncomfortable to have to be around a lot of people at once,” you murmur, turning onto your right to see him. “I offered to Grand Master Jean to liaison for you and your team while you were all within headquarters and if I wasn’t busy… though, it was really so I could see you more… even if it’d been from a distance…”

The corner of Albedo’s mouth twitches. “I still have that first gift of yours.”

A bashful grin slowly replaces your attempt at a poker face. “I’d hung that painting you gave to me in return above my bed, you know. It… sounds very silly to say out loud, but… when I found myself missing you, I put it there in the hopes that I’d see you in my dreams during the times you were away.”

“It’s illogical, but no. It’s a… sweet gesture. Not silly at all.”

Your cheeks instantly grow warm. “I’m… relieved to hear you say that.”

It takes a while for you to warm yourself up again — as if sensing your sensitive state, Dragonspine saw to it to up the ante on the blizzard — before the two of you can clean yourselves up.

To say the process isn’t as embarrassing as everything else that had transpired would be a lie; feeling and seeing Albedo’s cum drip out of you — and onto a damned sample dish, by his request — had been mortifying. What you hadn’t expected, however, was that after he’d collected his sample, he’d sat you down on the edge of the mattress once more, rags and a newly warmed basin of water at his side to tend to you. And while he did, to distract yourself, you’d found your eyes stuck over on his incomplete painting and the supplies littered on the small table next to its easel.

Now, as the two of you lie facing the ceiling of the cliffside laboratory, you suddenly giggle, prompting Albedo to turn toward you.

“What is it?” he asks, breathlessness evident at the tail end of his words.

“It’s just… the water in your painting glass,” you say. “It still isn’t frozen, and here I am, carefully turning into a block of ice.”

A small chuckle escapes him, too. “Slime Condensate and Mist Flower Corolla extract. The condensate is viscous enough that the extract won’t freeze it completely. Because it tiptoes the line of a solid and a liquid, it won’t cross the threshold, even if I were to take it out into the harsh weather of this mountain.”

You hum in thought. “Is it… edible?”

“If the recipe was tweaked, I’m sure it could be. Why?”

“It could be patented and made for the adventurers that try to come up here. Their drinking water freezes, and they can’t eat the snow or it’ll change their internal temperature— if it could stay a singular temperature while they’re up here, it might make them last a little longer.”

Albedo’s gaze goes toward the glass. One of the two brushes sitting inside shifts from the stiff breeze that blows into the cave, clattering against the rim. He lets out a hum of his own, before looking back to you, eyes seemingly glittering.

“Want to run another experiment?”

masterlist | taglist pt. i | pt. ii | pt.iii

© nc-vb/niicevibe 2022-2023 please don’t repost! reblogs & comments are always appreciated.

[spacemagicandlaserswords]

The Clone Wars 1x5 ‘Rookies’ Reaction Take 2

STILL SCREAMING

(I wrote this as I rewatched the episode, pausing as I went so that's why it's probably disjointed and all over the shop). Edit: Adding gifs to this because I can and I feel like it suits the more live-blogging style that these types of reaction posts end up being.

Lmao @ the GAR radio hologram

Omg Echo. It’s baby Echo! Look at him and his reg manuals!

Hello Sergeant Reed Richards and your lovely silver temples. Is this Sergeant O'Niner? More silver fox clones plz.

Are his eyebrows grey as well?

Deep Thoughts with Kenobi

Lol look at Obi Wan, so happy to see his space husband. Or its just the dated animation. But we’re all delusional here so let’s go with the first option.

Ah so this is where the ‘Good man, that Cody’ line comes from.

Rip not getting to know more about the lovely clone with the facial hair. Was this Droidbait?

Oof, foreshadowing for Hevy rip

Rip Sentry

Oh hey Fives has his little 5 Aurebesh tattoo already!

Droids! Well that was subtle lmao

I know this is very early on in TCW but there are some funky accents going on with the clones.

Rip Sergeant Silver Fox

Ventress is hilarious. She’s so completely beyond OTT. Ridiculous. I love it.

The entire comm exchange between Cody and the commando droid pretending to be a clone. CACKLING

Droid: Roger roger Rex: *narrows eyes*

Lol @ Cody palming off his problems to Rex. Have fun being in charge of this one!

“The reg manual says that the next–” Omg Echo. 

Rip Cutup. What a gruesome way to go.

“What the hell was that?” A “bad” word? In my animated children’s television show?!

“Ah, that was an eel.” Yes thank you Echo

“Now, that’s why we have the regulation not to go outside.” omg I love him

Lol @ the fanfare when Cody and Rex turn up. The heroes have arrived.

I know I’ve said this before but Rex looks all special with is kama and captain’s pauldron and different helmet and whatever else and then Cody just gets some golden painted bits of his armour and 2 aerials? What is he, a designer retro TV?

Omg the droid pretending to be a clone. You can just tell the animators had a field day with that one.

Thank you for visiting and have a safe trip back? Question mark?

Gif from this post by @dindjarism

“A droid attack flare?” OMG REX DID NOT HESITATE. Even Cody was shocked.

At this point, “Roger, roger” is basically enough to send Rex’s spidey senses into overdrive.

“Woah, Rex! What the heck are you doing?” An even less of a “bad” word? In my animated children’s television show?! 

Also lawl @ Rex’s drawled “Relax” after shooting the droid disguised as a clone at point blank range.

Does Cody not have his gold paint yet?! His armour looked distinctly grey, though they are on a moon so the lighting might be why it looks grey.

“Off the platform!” Rex you just yeeted yourself. And Cody. You actually want to be yeeted don’t you Rex?

Cody is the kind of friend who would jump off a cliff if his friend said to.

What happened on Tibrin? I must know. Is this The Clone Wars version of what happened in Budapest? Will we never know?

It’s a tiny little exchange but you can really tell from the change in voice how familiar Rex and Cody are with each other already.

Also that shot of Rex after he lands from their lines under the platform is absolutely a hero shot and hero pose. There’s quite a few of these throughout the episode and you can really tell that this is absolutely the introduction episode of Rex. So many moments throughout this episode exist just to show what an absolute BAMF he is. Seeing as the character was originally supposed to be Alpha-17 it makes sense. You can really Rex’s jaig eyes really prominently throughout this episode too. Makes sense, seeing as they’re on the front of his helmet, but it almost feels even more emphasised that you’d expect.

Sun bonnets!

Rex just turning around and one shotting the Rishi eel like it’s nothing omg sir stop

Gif from this post by @dindjarism

Echo gets his Rishi eel blood hand print from Rex! Seminal moment unlocked!

Lmao at Anakin and Obi Wan snarking about their clones.

Rex calls Echo kid! I AM WAILING!

Rex old boy? Since when was Cody bri’ish?

Rex, your ideas are as bad as Anakin’s.

The whole scene with trying to get in the blast doors and Rex kneeling there holding up the decapitated head of the commando droid? CACKLING

Cody is so done with your nonsense Rex

That was the most badass delivery of “Roger. Roger.” I have ever seen and we’re only 5 episodes in.

Aw Echo is already worried about Fives.

Rex is basically the personification of ‘so anyway, I started blasting’ at this point.

Rex, Sir, you did not have to go so hard in taking apart that droid with your bare hands

<insert line about hell in a kids tv show here>

Is this the first hero shot we get of Rex, Cody and Echo together? Sure looks like it! Look at Rex looking all noble in the background.

More foreshadowing for Hevy rip

Closest thing we clones have to a home. SOBBING

The little nod between Rex and Cody.

Random gronk droid.

"Didn’t say please." There are so many good cheesy one liners in this episode it's like an 80s action movie. I love it.

"We could use a jedi about now." I think Cody is missing his space husband.

That admiral definitely feels like a stereotype of a posh british officer from WWII or similar

Oh damn this is Hevy's last stand. What a way to go out.

Hevy nooooo what are you doing

“I don’t like your tone rookie” Rex was that a growl?!

Hevy just yeeting the machine gun at the droids.

Noooo Hevy

"I don’t." Wow those were some last words. Rip Hevy

Gif from this post by @theclonewarsdaily

Naw Echo and Fives getting medals. And joining the 501st! Also their completely in sync salute and about turn was the definition of crisp. I know it’s probably just the same animation copied and pasted but we can ignore that and focus on how it’s totally cause they’re the twins in their batch.

OMG THAT EPISODE. MY HEART. CLONES. THE CLONES HAVE MY HEART. EVERYTHING FOR THE CLONES. 

I think I’m going to have to go back and watch some episodes again because when I first watched this I a) didn’t remember most of it and b) hadn’t started to fall in love with the clones. I should imagine coming back and watching important and memorable episodes again after the finale will have another different meaning to it all as well. Though, given what happens in the finale, I might need to wait a bit. Maybe I’ll come back to it after watching Rebels and a few other things I want to catch up on. I did realise though that I did actually watch this episode when I started watching The Clone Wars, I just didn’t remember most of it. The only bits that I remembered were when the 4 clones (Echo, Fives, Heavy and Cutup, I think) escaped through the tunnels to outside the base, right before Cutup got eaten by that eel. 

[hey-cringelord]

why is there no mention of hisagi’s “69” tattoo until arrancar arc

AKA i’m rambling bcus i’ve been on a bleach binge for the past three weeks and am nursing a growing obsession with kensei and hisagi

first off i’d like to get my GHRHRRRRGHRHRAHH out of the way for long-haired hisagi bcus hello, woah, i have no recollection of this . netflix bleach must have left out the episode or i somehow completely forgot about it in the last six years. he’s gorgeous with long hair ... moving on!

to preface, i rewatched bleach ass backwards bcus i didnt go into my rewatch expecting to binge the whole thing. i was bored, over my writing class, and missing ichigo. insert arrancar arc. then i thought “well now i have two weeks off class, i can watch ichigo get his powers back” which ultimately led me to watch fullbring arc, then TYBW cus duh, and then i thought soul society arc’s 60 episodes is nothing compared to the arrancar arc

i did try to talk myself out of it, but one question kept bothering me ever since arrancar arc: was there any mention of the very bold and the very obvious 69 on hisagi’s face in previous episodes, or did we seriously have to wait until turn back the pendulum to find out why he has it?

deep down i’ve always been a fan of hisagi; the punkish design is something i resonate with, plus he looks like he listens to an unhealthy amount of linkin park in his everyday routine (save him!) and was always happy when he randomly appeared on my social media between the time i watched the first three szns of bleach in my freshman year of high school and finally finishing it my senior year. when i first watched it, i never bothered to look up his tattoo, just thought it was a little silly

imagine my surprise when over 4 years and 100+ episodes later, hisagi’s silly tattoo finally has a meaning behind it. no previous mention, no nod to an old savior, nothing. i’m years too late to even be saying this, but i need to get it out on the internet somewhere. i can’t think of any good reason for kubo to wait so long except story building, but that also brings up the argument: if he wanted good story building and wanted people to stay interested, wouldn’t a nod towards kensei makes sense?

obviously tosen has no 69 marking anywhere and we know hisagi looks up to tosen greatly, so he’s out of the question. the 9 makes sense bcus he’s in the ninth division, but the 6? that’s where things don’t add up for him. i’m aware hisagi is a side character (a cool one, but still a side character) but that means he’s a good leeway to drop random things like previous captains, and would even hint to aizen’s plans 100 years earlier.

hisagi v. yumichika would’ve been a great time to mention it, too; yumichika’s obsession with keeping his face scar-free and clean would’ve been a direct lead into him asking hisagi why he decided to get a tattoo right on his cheek.

even if it was never mentioned again until pendulum arc later on, there’d still be some explanation/hint towards future explanation as to why this dude wearing a metal choker and ripped off sleeves has 69 tatted on his face (people are immature sometimes, kubo!)

i hope i don’t sound like i’m talking out of my ass here, rambling on like this isn’t really my thing LAWL

[furryprovocateur]

finally got port of badon finished. such a frustrating chapter in that i wanted to bring in some growth units like bartre or rebecca, but couldn't. 6 slot availability is only SLIGHTLY better than having a 5 turn limit to get 5 stars. anyways

i severely overestimated how much experience sain would be costing me if i fielded him. he's better than marcus in almost every way right now (just slightly less durable) and he's just such a problem solver. that said, good god was it annoying that i had to RNG advance just to get the killer bow fucker to not crit him and one-shot him. god damn. so many stupidly strong units in this damn chapter.

i did in fact end up fielding sain, kent, lowen, priscilla, and raven. i didn't expect lowen to be as useful on this map as he was, but he was basically a stonewall against the swordslayer + damian, both of which were otherwise extremely deadly opponents. kent ended up getting a lot of experience this chapter, even though his level ups were. . . eh. amusingly he has 14/10/12 stats for st/sk/sp. why get one sain when you can get two. oh speaking of sain, he's now at 20 speed too so lawl. i should promote him in theory but i want to milk as much experience out of him as possible + who knows, he might get some skill and defense, which would be very nice. lowen idgaf about his stats but i won't lie, he keeps staying useful.

anyways with raven, he took the north route which i've literally always used him for. it's just free experience for him basically. he got good level ups too but with those bases he would have to get truly dogshit level ups to stop being good. nearly 30 HP and like 14 speed from the jump is insane for a level 5 unit. gotta love HHM bonuses (i'm so looking forward to heath, good god)!

enough about my stats, the strategy for this chapter was to rush to the front lines by the first turn. lowen on the bottom so he can intercept the swordslayer + damian and sain on the north to handle the fucking murder of pirates that approach that route. i did end up using canas to help chip some units like the swordslayer and the nomad. hector was there to fill holes, but he also ended up getting a very good level up. beyond that, the cavs basically did all the heavy lifting. i HAD to kill the elfire motherfucker on turn 2 with kent and that left him with 9 HP, but thankfully surrounding him with sain + hector kept him alive. it's really just a matter of dealing with the problem units (the elfire, the killer bow, the swordslayer, the killer axe, the nosferatu, and the damian).

after that, i rushed the arena with raven by rescuing him priscilla and getting him to the arena ASAP. i think i got him there by turn 7 and got him a whole level's worth of experience. kent even got a turn in there at the end and leveled up. it was a big internal debate for me, but i decided to use all 10 of the turns you're given, because it felt like getting raven stronger is gonna make life easier in the coming chapters + saving 1-2 turns isn't going to make a big swing for tactics compared to making raven and kent stronger. if nothing else, i wasn't planning on saving turns this chapter and i know there are other ones to cut corners on like genesis and pfod, so i'm hoping that was the right choice. honest to god, i'm just really really glad to be done with this chapter. it was a complete nightmare to route just due to the difficulty. and yet, it wasn't nearly as frustrating as birds of a feather or whereabouts unknown could be. bright sides, i suppose.

without a doubt, damian has one of the best fucking boss quotes in the entire series. you cannot challenge me on this. "You're about to die. Scream, if you must." fucking KILLER

[idga-buck]

Some and Others, 4/?

Bucky learns some things about his relationship and tries to clean up the mess he made.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 3,300

Content: swearing, discussion of pregnancy, awkwardness, light allusion to dubcon?(No sexual content, but I’m including in case- if you have concerns about this, feel free to message me) also a fanfiction writer’s attempt to fill in the blanks regarding how the avengers make money and avoid plot holes. They’re a nonprofit now. Lawl.

Bucky stared dumbly at your apartment door, the sound of it slamming in his face still echoed in his mind. His lips flapped under the force of his exhale as he swallowed his pride and knocked again. To his surprise, you opened it quickly. Must have stayed by the door after closing.

“Can I try again?” He asked, leaning to the left and looking at your frown under the chain latch that kept him from seeing anything else.

“Is it mine?” You repeated back to him in a voice much lower than his own. If he wasn’t being mocked and you weren’t looking at him like the worst human on earth, he probably would have laughed.

Bucky lifted his hands and your eyes dropped to the four plastic packages in his fingers, then widened. He was a little proud of himself for remembering your excitement over the artisanal popsicle guy that pushed his little orange cart around the park by your apartment. Once the air shifted in springtime and the sun was out most days, you wouldn’t shut up about it. He didn’t really get it and half the flavors on the menu were fruits he’d never heard of let alone could imagine being paired up, but you loved them. Before the break up, you’d dragged him out to join you for one and playfully teased him for ordering a peach lemonade instead of something more exciting. He’d been more interested in getting out of the sun and using your sweet tongues and cold breaths for something more fun and less surrounded by people. Between the heat and his sorriest look, he hoped that the popsicles would help him get his foot in the door.

“What flavor?” You asked, eyes narrowed and on him again.

“One of everything,” Bucky assured you. He held them out as if allowing you to take one before pulling it back again, just as your hand rose to reach for one. “Please?”

The door closed in his face a second time. Becky’s jaw shifted forward in frustration, his bottom teeth tickling his upper lip, probably looking more like a bulldog than an Avenger as he chewed on nothing. His mouth slipped open at the sound of the chain sliding open and the door opened again. Third time’s the charm.

Your arm reached out to take one of the popsicles and walked away, leaving the door open behind you. “You can put the rest in the freezer,” you called back over the crinkling of your wrapper as you tore into it. It was a better invitation than Bucky had expected, so he took it. He closed and locked the door behind him before making his way into the kitchenette. Just before closing the tiny freezer door, he grabbed a bright magenta popsicle for himself. DragonPassionParty, the wooden stick read, and Bucky decided that he could use a bravery boost. Trying new fruits was a good first step before talking to you about the elephant in the room. Or rather in your belly.

“Hey!” You whined, noticing that he’d kept one for himself instead of saving all three for you.

“I’ll buy you more,” he answered automatically before shoving the top of the treat into his mouth and shrugged. DragonPassionParty was good.

Bucky joined you on your sofa, something that had been so normal just a few weeks ago was weird now. Both of you silently slurped on your popsicles, waiting for the other to say something first and break through the invisible barrier between you. Just like before, Bucky knew he should say something and failed to do so. His mother would be so disappointed. His sisters would smack him. If they could see him now, sitting on a sofa, tongue coated in sugar and dyed hot pink, while he stared at a wall to avoid speaking to the mother of his child… actually, even he’d smack any of his old buddies if they’d been that dumb.

“I wasn’t with anyone else,” you finally broke the silence. The braver person in the room showed themselves and Bucky wasn’t exactly surprised that it ended up being you.

“I didn’t think you had,” he admitted.

You scoffed at that, clearly unsatisfied with his response. “Then why ask? Why storm out and leave me alone for a life changing moment? Why show up FOUR DAYS later just to ask something so stupid?” Just when he thought your little outburst was done, you thought of another question. “Why bother showing up at all?”

Bucky winced and bit down on the wooden stick, pulling it between his teeth and clearing the rest of his dessert in one swipe. The ice melted on his tongue and he sucked it down slowly, watching you shake your head. You’d spun on the sofa, leaving half a cushion between your crossed legs and his spread thighs. “I didn’t think it was possible.”

“Well-“ you laughed, but not because the situation was funny.

“You said you were on something, so-“

“Hey,” you said sternly and Bucky’s eyes finally left the cushion between you to meet you head on. You pointed one finger and shoved it against your own sternum. “Woman with a uterus and birth control,” then your fist fell forward, finger now pointing directly at him, “Super soldier with super soldier spunk.” Your arms crossed after that. “Now we know which one is stronger. Shocker.”

“So…” Bucky debated asking, but it was a thought that came back to him over and over during the last few days. He already thought that you’d used him once… what was stopping him from thinking you’d do it again? Nothing. “You didn’t do this on purpose?” Your eyes widened comically, but your brows met in the middle of your face. Equal parts shocked and angered by what he was insinuating. In a moment of stupidity, he decided to lay it out plainly, thinking you’d respect him more for just coming clean about what had been bothering him. “Were you trying to get pregnant... to, you know... trap me?” Bucky frowned as it said it. It sounded even worse outloud. “Is it an Avenger thing? A money thing? I don’t have any…” he rambled on, watching your face fall open in disbelief. “I just need to know.”

“Fuck you.” Or not.

Your voice was different. Maybe because you were mad, but Bucky thought it was more than that. In months of being your boyfriend, he’d never experienced this side of you. You’d always been sweet to him, albeit a little pushy when it came to going out rather than hiding under the covers, but you were mostly a gentle presence. Something he’d kind of needed at the time. Now… you weren’t holding back and every time your eyes cut through his, his gut turned over.

“I should have come to see you sooner,” he admitted and by the look on your face, you were completely unimpressed by him. That was new too. “I had a lot to think about.”

Your hands fell down to your sides and you pushed yourself off the sofa before Bucky could finish his sentence. “Well, I have a lot to think about too.”

“That’s why I’m here, doll-“

“No thanks,” you stated simply. Bucky turned toward the back of the sofa, watching you move toward the door. He frowned when you stood next to it, looking rather expectant. When he didn’t move from his seat, you opened it for him. “I need you to leave, Bucky.”

He stood from his seat but not without arguing his case. He needed a few days to wrap his mind around the idea of a baby. The idea of YOU and a baby. The idea of HIM freshly fucked up and still trying to survive in a new world… having a baby. It was a lot and it was a lot to shoulder alone. Bucky avoided any conversations that turned toward himself. Steve didn't push it. Sam had definitely noticed, but also had a gift for filling silences without making him feel defective. Almost everyone else in the compound was so used to Bucky avoiding them anyways that it hadn’t been all that surprising when he suddenly closed up again.

Standing in your apartment, in the process of being kicked out, Bucky only just realized that you were in it too. He wasn’t technically alone, not if he didn’t want to be. You didn’t have to be alone either. That was the thought that should have put his ass on his bike and sent him here sooner.

He tried explaining himself, but you were over it, eyes flirting back and forth between his and the floor. The second he took a breath, you jumped in, seizing the moment for yourself.

“You can’t be here, Bucky. I have a lot going on and I need to figure out what I’m going to do.”

“That’s why I’m here, I can-“

“Whatever you think you can do, you can’t-“ you said sharply and fell back against the wall next to the door. With your head back, face turned up, you spoke to the ceiling instead of to him. “I told you, Bucky. I can’t say no to you.” He remembered you saying that before. It didn’t mean anything at the time. It was flirty, that’s all. But clearly, he’d missed what you were really saying. “You’re… I dunno. You’re larger than life and it’s my fault for getting caught up in it, but what was I supposed to do? Turn down the fucking Avenger in my bed?” Your voice sounded so small, so embarrassed as you spoke. It made Bucky want to throw up. Were you with him because you didn’t think you’d had a choice? Once he’d gotten it in his head that you were using him, he didn’t stop to question why he kept coming back. Why he’d come to you at all. Good sleep. Comfort. Escape. Some piece of his life that wasn’t under a microscope. Did he have it all backwards? Was he the one using you? “This isn’t-“ Bucky's eyes were drawn down to your hand, coming up to hold onto your stomach. It looked no different than it ever had. But it was. Everything was different. “I feel like everything is falling apart right now and I just… I can’t think about you, Bucky. If I think about you, I won’t think about anything else.”

“I didn’t-“

“It’s fine,” you sighed, pushing off from the wall and dropping your hand back to your side. Bucky’s eyes were still on your stomach as he fought the urge to replace your hand with his own. “I just need to figure out what comes next for me. I don’t know what to do about work or if I can stay in this apartment or how I’m going to tell my mother… oh my god, my mother…” you groaned.

“What’s happening with your job?” Bucky asked suddenly and he could see he’d caught you off guard, your mouth still open and your eyes deeply confused by his interest.

You blinked twice and he tipped his chin up, encouraging you along. “I was at work when those… things attacked,” you explained. “Our building was evacuated, which is where you, you know, showed up to save the day.”

Right. Bucky nodded, but he didn’t bother speaking this time. Just letting you fill in the details.

“My director was one of…” you paused and shook your head. “Well you saw what happened to her.”

The people that died. The people that died in front of you. Shit shit shit shi-

“Then some asshole with a bomb strapped to his back flew through the windows of the floor below our offices, or so they say. Everything caved in, it’s all lost. The video is all over the news, but I could only watch it once. He just soars right into it… it’s… fuck what’s wrong with people?”

You were getting choked up and Bucky stood there frozen, remembering the weight of the man’s body as he kicked it clear into a building across the way. Yours. Apparently.

Seeing that Bucky wasn’t really listening, you wiped your eyes and cleared your throat. “Some people are being transferred to new branches, I haven’t heard from anyone yet and Margo’s funeral is tomorrow and-”

“I’ll go,” Bucky interrupted and your mouth closed immediately. He watched your lips curl in over your teeth to bite them and your eyes drop back to the floor. He was going to say something else. Sorry, maybe. But when he reached up to touch your face, you flinched. His stomach dropped again. It was subtle, but clear as day to him.

So Bucky’s gentle outstretched hand curled into a fist and he left. Whatever help he thought he’d be able to offer was empty. You were pregnant. Potentially out of a job. You might be moving away all together and somehow all of that was his fault. He tried not to dwell on the possibility of never seeing you again, but when his mind did wander that direction, Bucky told himself that the idea of never knowing the only child he’d likely get was what soured his stomach. He ignored the way his disapproval started in his gut, but managed to flutter until into his chest, beating wings beneath his rib cage. It wasn’t like he’d miss you. He couldn’t. He’d only recently gotten away from you. That had been his choice and now, suddenly, he wasn’t so sure about it. Maybe because it was his choice. It was good practice to set his own boundaries and decide what parts of his life included other people. From what he remembered of the sparse therapy sessions, those things were important and the break up let him do that. This time, however, if you left it wouldn’t have been his choice and that didn’t sit well with him. You weren’t interested in his input at all and that scared him a bit. He hadn’t felt this useless in- well ever. Bucky vaguely wondered what his therapist would have said about that.

…

The Stark’s were in charge everywhere they went. It wasn’t really a competition. Tony still perceived a power struggle that didn’t exist between himself and Steve, but Bucky knew better than to say what he actually thought about that. He’d come between them too much as it was, so whenever the two were together, Bucky steered clear. He’d perfected his aboutface back in ‘43 and 80 years later, he found more use for it than ever.

Bucky heard their voices echoing down the hall and needed no serum’s aid for it. The recent attack was the only thing anyone could talk about. It was stressing out Wanda to no end and if Bucky could tell that, he wondered why the hell everyone insisted on continuing on about it. Any civilian casualties set the witch on edge. Being so close to home made these particular losses that much harder. The android, Vision, tried to explain Lagos. Bucky felt like he barely had a grasp on reality as it was and conversing with a metal man who could float through walls wasn’t good for his mental health, so that was a brief conversation. Bucky saw Wanda in one of the sitting rooms, android sitting next to her on a modular sofa as both listened to the other Stark. The blonde one that managed to keep Tony in check when no one else could. She tenderly touched Wanda’s knee before rising from her own seat and making her way toward the hall, where Bucky realized he’d been standing like a creep and watching them for too long.

“Sergeant Barnes,” she greeted him with a warm smile, shifting a leather bag from her hand to her hip.

“Ma’am,” he nodded. She told him to call her Pepper, but he still preferred ‘ma’am’. “Everything okay?”

Pepper looked back at Wanda and Vision, leaning into each other on the sofa like the opening scene of a sitcom, but with somber looks on their faces. “I suppose it is weird to see me around the compound,” she mused before leaning in as if sharing a secret. “Stark tower is more my speed.” Bucky offered a tight smile and when his eyes drifted back into the sitting around, where the couple still hadn’t moved, Pepper spoke up again. “She’ll be fine, wants to make amends. I’d let someone help usually, but since the attack was in the city…” she must have noticed that Bucky’s expression changed. He stared hard, through her not really at her, and Pepper moved her head a bit trying to catch his eyes again.

Amends. Wanda wanted to make things right somehow. As far as he knew she couldn’t bring anyone back from the dead, hell maybe she could, Bucky didn’t know the extent of her powers, but still she wanted to help the ones who lived start to heal. Whatever that looked like. Pepper would help with that and maybe she could help him now that inspiration had struck.

“Do you have a minute?” he asked, suddenly, but hopefully. Pepper looked over his shoulder, then down to her phone. It was obvious she wanted to say no and Bucky was shocked when she didn’t. The Starks were very different people and he was glad to be talking with this one. Bucky escorted her down the halls and toward the hangar, so that she could leave whenever she needed to, sharing a bit of his needs all the way.

“I think I need a space… not here you know? A house or apartment, I don’t know. The compound is great, really, more than I expected honestly, but sometimes I just… I can’t breathe and I don’t have any money, but maybe-”

Pepper stopped walking and held up a hand. Bucky shut up and was glad to, feeling like he was going nowhere with his awkward request. Her smile really was kind and it prompted him to take a breath. “Stark has some real estate holdings, investment properties, I’ll set you up with one of the property managers.” She made it sound so easy. It made Bucky nervous.

“I’ll need a job or something to pay for it, can-”

Pepper stopped him again. “Tony was supposed to talk to you about this.”

Bucky sensed that blaming her husband wasn’t his wisest option, so he smiled meekly. “I might not have been listening.”

She hummed, frowning a bit as if she knew he wasn’t telling the truth, but continued on, seemingly unbothered. “You are not a Stark employee, Sergeant Barnes-”

“Bucky,” he corrected reflexively, but quietly.

Pepper smiled, her shoulders lifting quickly in silent amusement. “Bucky…” she started again. “It’s a conflict of interest. After the mess over the accords, it was decided that no entity should have, for lack of a better word, control over the Avengers.” Bucky couldn’t agree more. “What used to be an initiative of S.H.I.E.L.D. is now a 501(c)3, accepting benevolent donations, but no strings. We use a fiscal intermediary, yearly audits…” Pepper rolled her eyes off to the side. “You don’t care about all that, I’m sure, so I’ll keep it simple. You have money, Ser-” she stopped herself. “Bucky. Many people believe that you put more good into the world than bad and they want to support that.” Bucky swallowed hard. He wasn’t sure about all that…

“Is there… is there anyway we could keep this between us?” Pepper frowned at his request and Bucky coughed. “The whole point of a place is privacy… no offense, but if your husband knows…”

Pepper smiled, but checked her phone one more time. “I understand. He can find out lots, but I won’t give him any reasons to go looking. How about that?” Bucky thanked her and didn’t follow when she started walking again. “I’ll be in touch,” she promised and he waved awkwardly as she pushed her way through tall glass doors, leaving him and the compound behind.

Tags are always open: @fangirl-swagg @learisa @urbankaite2 @intothesoul

[renarinkholin]

Have you considered not being a member of the objectively worst Radiant Order though? (this is not serious at all, just a very stupid joke)

Lawl, Tumblr forgot to notify me that I had a message, THANKS TUMBLR. 

Tbh though, I do care a lot about the Skybreakers and their oaths. I think having just laws and universality in those laws is the basis for good societies and the way that laws should protect the disenfranchised and hold the powerful accountable.

I really feel for the Skybreakers too, because the things that they value really made them so vulnerable to what ended up happening to them. I mean, yeah it’s easy for us, the readers on the outside, to be like “Nale is OBVIOUSLY crazy and the Skybreakers are TERRIBLE for following him because how could anyone not realize this???”

But if you’ve been raised in a culture that says that the Heralds are the Almighty’s chosen and this Herald in particular is the pure, incorruptible embodiment of justice, like... how are you going to say “well, actually I know right and wrong better than the Holy Being Whose Job It Is To Decide Right And Wrong”? You... don’t. More than that, all of the Skybreaker spren are also reinforcing this idea that Nale is sane, just, and deserving of being in charge of the Order. There’s so much internal reinforcement of Nale himself as being above reproach because that’s the way he designed the Order to work around him, and that’s the real heart of the issue. Skybreakers find honor in not letting their feelings interfere with following a code that they believe is just, so even if they have personal reservations about Nale’s choices or beliefs, their oaths tell them to ignore that doubt and trust in the system as established.

I just... really want to see more Skybreakers tbh, and I think if there’s any hope of Skybreaker reform, it will have to come from within the Order. I think you would need a very high-oath Skybreaker though to be able to push back against Nale though. It’s possible that we could see Szeth taking this on somewhere down the line, as Edgedancer and Oathbringer show us that he’s new enough to the Order that he’s willing to disagree with Nale’s ideas and choose to stand opposed to him. Whether or not Szeth is willing to move from “I disagree with Nale and I’m choosing a different way” to “Nale is leading the Skybreakers in the wrong way and the Order needs to be reformed,” well... we’ll have to see! That’s a big step, and Szeth seems more focused on cleansing Shinovar, not his Radiant Order.

So yeah, the problem with the Skybreakers isn’t the Skybreakers, it’s that they’re being directly led by Nale... who is, unfortunately, just as crazy as all the other Heralds. The Order which is most predisposed to look for leadership and guidance is unfortunately being led by someone who shouldn’t be in charge of them. And both culture and tradition are reaaaaally big road-blocks to the Skybreakers being able to oust Nale. 

ANYWAY. I’m sure you were not expecting a Skybreaker manifesto two weeks after you send a little joke to my inbox but listen. I have a lot of Skybreaker feelings. And I must send them out into the world. 

[siremasterlawrence]

Human Pet- Celebrating 1300 Followers this story is for you.

“Wakey, wakey Andrew time for making his Master’s breakfast.”I whisper in his ears as he opens up his eyes, and starts to yawn his hair is a mess. He looks like a psycho in bed but a hot one indeed. I sit up staring in to the sun light letting it wash over my body sign warm vibes. He leans in kissing me on the lips as I swing my foot over to the edge of the bed.

“Oh Master! It is so early, can we go back to bed please? I need more time with my lovely king.” He pleads giving me a tight hug an he yanks me back onto the bed, and he rolls over laying on top of me. He is my good human pup hybrid hugging me tightly preventing me from moving. I let my hand brush again his smooth face, pat his head with palm, and rub his body with my hands.

“I can reschedule the meeting with the record label for more time with you. I’ll do whatever you want, but I prefer to be at your feet all the time. I don’t like leaving you at all due to the fact you are my world.” He says while getting dress in his dress shirt, he does his cuffs in style. I am quiet proud of his entire being in my possession. “The sooner you go to the record companies meeting the sooner you will be back with me.” I calmly explain.

He smiles my way heading out for a meeting that can change anything, and he will do any an everything to make me proud. About an hour later he sends me a text telling me he is nervous. I put him under by text trance to put back his mojo, and give him the confidence boost he needs. They ask him to sing a few songs so he does a catalogue of other people’s work.

Finally, a snap of his fingers he moves in to a new state of mind. His confidence is like no other a bit cockiness to his dance moves. He is free of all inhibitors due to the music I created for him. The audience of music executives are tapping away to the beat. Bobbing their heads in sync with the music lawls them down into a trance like state. All the people in room are now up an dancing uncontrollably.

“No need to fight, no need to resist, just obey the beat.” Are the last words they hear. Drew new my plan is now in full swing nothing can stop us now. “There is nothing left to do, but to dance to the beat an he free. You must give in to the sin of obedience, come an join me in my harem. Let me make the rules an set your soul free. Watch me blaze on fire as my soul is set free.” The last lines clinch the deal as they agree to all he suggest.

Drew messages me that the contact is ready to his specifications on the spot, and they unit is reorganizing. I am in charge an my song is being recorded to day, and they want me in tomorrow to start writing. Erstwhile, Drew is having the time of his life behind the screen an recording. My son fills the room spinning all around in succession. Nobody could resist his charms now except for me. The next couple of months were not easy but well worth it.

The album will be dropped on his birthday of this year August 29th, 2020. “Hypnotic Love”the single I wrote first will be his debut single.It will hit radio the last Friday of this July so excited for it. The days go by faster the either of us could expect, the songs hits the radio easily. It debuts at number one, because a radio smash, and he is performing on The Daily New York Show.

I watch proudly from the crowd at my work paying off finally, and it is to due to all my cultivation of his talent. Andrew is a product of me plain an simple no other way looking at it. “Don’t you agree? Of course you do that song is so addictive it can’t be ignored a flawless masterpiece. I can see you in the back very shy, but you want dance come an show us your moves.”

The end.

One of my best stories. What do you think ?

[thejackalsden]

Alright - much as I didn’t want to do this, there are some changes coming to the MultiMuse as of today. Those are found UNDER the cut due to length of the post. If you don’t read it and wonder why something’s different, well then there’s no excuse.

The purpose of this post, however, for the part easily visible; I AM ON HIATUS. I’m dealing with...well, a lot. Some of it I don’t even know how to explain without being on a tirade, but just know, I’m on HIATUS until possibly sometime in July. We’ll see. Maybe sooner, maybe the end of this month, I legitimately do not know, I’m afraid. 

Onto the less fun bits.

Regarding my muses there are changes hitting almost all of them.

Axel/Lea from Kingdom Hearts

Until @aeternai​ is ready, he is in an indefinite frozen state. I’m open to discuss writing with him, but it will be very, very few and far between. His mental state to write in, is rough. He will not actively be displayed on the blog, as he is not an actively available muse.

Gladiolus Amicitia from Final Fantasy XV

Another not often used Muse. He will be available as necessary for interactions in threads already happening; I.E. making guest appearances in my other muse’s FFXV verses. He is not available for shipping. I have tried, and he does not conform readily to any ship. There is one hidden on the blog for him, but unless prompted, it will not make an appearance, and instead will be side mentions and vague. Maybe an occasional drabble. All in all, he will make small appearances, nothing major, and is not available for most interactions. Will not actively be displayed on the blog.

Lunafreya Nox Fleuret from Final Fantasy XV

Similar to Gladio, she will make guest appearances where needed. Very rare, must be explicitly asked for before interactions. She is tied heavily to Cloud’s FFXV verse, so there will be side mentions. Will not be actively displayed on the blog.

Loki Laufeyson, a MCU & Mythos Hybrid

Due to the lack of interest for him, but the strength of the muse, he is still available. However; he will not interact with female muses. It is nothing personal as a mun, just how the muse works and has been developed over the years. No readily displayed on the Blog, but feel free to ask for him, he’ll still show up in the rules.

Lúcio Correia dos Santos from Overwatch

MY FROGGY BOI - He is obviously not going anywhere. I adore Lucio, I would love to write more as him, but he does fall under the secondary muse for this blog; due to the fact he is very selective at times. Feel free to ask for him, though!

Gabriel ‘Reaper’ Reyes from Overwatch

I thought I could maintain him on this blog, but due to the mental space that muse puts me in, both Gabriel & Reaper, I will be removing him from the blog. The old content from him will remain in place, but please don’t expect anything new for him, nor will he be accessible through Asks. Anything from here on regarding him, will be deleted, I’m just cannot write him.

Subject Delta from Bioshock

Due to there being no interest, he will be removed from the blog, loathe as I am to say that. I adore him as a muse, there just isn’t much I can do with him, I fear. He may make a reappearance in the future.

Princess Zelda from the Legend of Zelda Franchise

She has not formally been announced or introduced, however she will remain on the blog for use. I need to get her pages up still, but they are coming I assure you. I think she’ll be based more out of Ocarina of Time, or she’s going to be removed from any timeline and have remnants of each of her reincarnations. One of the two, we will see - that way any Zelda game is fair game, providing I do my research...

Angela ‘Mercy’ Ziegler from Overwatch

Has...admittedly mutated. Angie is a MAIN muse on this blog now. She has multiple verses; Overwatch, Apex Legends, FFXIV (Tied heavily with my Cloud’s), and a FFXV verse that ties in heavily with the Crownsguard, my Gladio, & my Luna. Do not hesitate for anything regarding this Muse. She is always awake; though if you’re looking for instant ships, sadly keep looking. Her main ships take priority; found in both @countrywestern​‘s McCree, @grimesucker​ (She loves her trash boy okay?), and @zestirix​ (Ignis most definitely, I think Ardyn too, still working on that one) - but those ships will take priority. I’m not against shipping (Give this woman love damn it, let her love you) but it takes chemistry and a connection with the muns as well.

Cloud Strife from Final Fantasy VII

Ah, my sassy trash son. Another MAIN muse on this blog. However he is single ship with @griefandpunishment​‘s Squall (If you don’t like reading Strifehart, I recommend unfollowing because these two get stupidly mushy sometimes) - the ship has been 5 or so years in the making (if not more, I legitimately don’t know how long it’s been) but all ships aside from this will be either platonic, or enemies at this rate. However, he also has multiple verses; VIII, XIV (Tied heavily with both Angela’s and Squall’s), XV - ties in heavily with my Lunafreya, and more! Feel free to ask for the sassy medic, though I assure you he has no interest, sexually or romantically, in any other muse besides a certain moody gunblader. Sorry.

Neova Lerouxisx, an Original Character

My baby is shifting to a Main muse. I have put too much work into her to have her sit idly. I’m going to try and get some interactions going on her, so we’ll see. There isn’t a universe she can’t fit in to - and she readily has verses for most Final Fantasy’s, Apex, Overwatch, LoZ (Tentatively) and more! Just ask, please! 

Now to end with some FAQs regarding my decision, to nip in the ass any questions that may crop up. Some of them deal with questions I’ve dealt with from when I had anon on, others I’ve had asked to my face SO moving on.

Anubis, why are you doing this?

My blog, admittedly, is a mess. I have all this muse for certain ones - even more than what’s upon this blog - but I have found myself craving something....more. One offs are fine, but I thoroughly enjoy my threads that have heft and length - as if you couldn’t tell. That is easiest to achieve, and maintain, with 3 core muses I have chosen. I never have an issue with any of those three, and it’s easier for everyone involved. Plus it makes it so no one is waiting months for a reply from one of my lesser used or the ones I struggle to maintain, like Reaper.

Why are you removing -insert muse-?!

Short answer? My blog, my sanity, I do what I want. Long answer? Please see above and reread as many times as needed for it to stick, thank you.

I have caught grief since I started this blog; I know some adore the muses here, and some don’t. I cannot, realistically, keep putting myself in dangerous headspaces to write. Not with what I’m dealing with IRL. I have since stopped trying to appease the masses, and am shifting this wholly to my entertainment.

Lawl, it’s just writing, who cares?

As a writer who takes pride in what they do, and how they write, and to whom characterization means everything; how dare, first off. If you are a writer who doesn’t care, you are not a writer worth my time anyways. Elitist? Perhaps.

Or perhaps I know what I’m willing to put up with, and what I expect out of my writing partners - especially knowing what I put in for their replies. It’s the least I could ask for, this understanding.

Why is Cloud single ship?

Why does Cloud do anything Cloud does, let’s be real. He has a genuine connection with that Squall. They have been together for years and apparently gravitated back together. I get along amazingly with that mun, I can ping ideas off them any given day - and they understand my molasses speed some days ^^’ It’s why I’m beyond comfortable wrapping Cloud in a bow and handing him to her.

Plus, Cloud licked Squall so, y’know, it’s his.

[skarletterambles]

Mummy re-(re-re-re-)watch blog

Because sometimes self-care is rewatching your favorite movie for the first time in many years, I’m currently enjoying The Mummy (1999) on a nice big flat screen TV and eating pizza.  Life is good.

Random thoughts typed while watching (so expect typos) below...

[Disclaimers:  Obviously, this post contains massive spoilers for a 20-year-old movie, if anyone actually needs to be told that.  There are spoilers for The Mummy Returns, as well.  Also, I’m an unapologetic Imhotep fangirl so don’t expect me to talk about him like he’s some kind of villain.  That’s just silly!  Ahem.  I have the hots for Rick and Ardeth, too, though, so the drool will be spread out a bit.]

..............................

Imhotep’s priests really got the raw end of the deal.  They were just there to watch the door and make sure nobody interrupted their boss’ booty call, and they ended up witnessing regicide and then getting mummified alive.  Dang.

I bet the noise of the battle with all those horses and guns above him irritated Imhotep.  No wonder he sent sand jets up to scare away Rick and the others.  Damn kids, get off my lawn--er, necropolis!

Honestly, the havoc Evy wreaked on her library only made it look slightly worse than my workplace this summer.  :p  At least she didn’t have to worry about DVD shelving...  [Only I get this reference, but trust me, to me it’s hilarious, in a “if I don’t laugh I’ll cry” kind of way.]

Rick is damn good-looking when he’s all bedraggled and beat up, and even better looking when he cleans up.  The look on Evy’s face when she sees him after a haircut and a change of clothes, well... Same, girl.  Same.

Beni is one of my favorite comic relief characters of all time.

The Med-Jai wouldn’t have threatened Evy on the boat if they knew she was the reincarnation of their long-dead boss’ daughter.  I’m picturing Seti in the afterlife facepalming...

I had forgotten how hostile and scary the Med-Jai were at first.

It’s amazing how much of the dialogue comes back to me, though.  Even throwaway background lines like Jonathan complaining about the price of the camels.

Evy’s sheer joy over everything camel-related is so freaking adorable.

That first chitter of scarab beetles...my least favorite part of the movie.  Heh.

I can just imagine Imhotep in his sarcophagus, feeling the first hint of movement around him in over 3,000 years, and then freaking out as his sarcophagus falls through the ceiling and goes THUMP on the ground.  And then there’s screaming and everyone leaves.  He’d be like, WTF?

“He must have been someone of great importance...or someone who did something very naughty.”  Both correct, Evy...

It’s so not fair that Ardeth can be that drop-dead sexy-looking and have such a sexy voice.

And here’s that “I...AM A LIBRARIAN!” line that everyone in my line of work loves so much.  Heehee...

Mummy:  *bursts out of sarcophagus* Evy:  “Gah, I hate it when these things do that!” LMAO

Of course Imhotep scratched “Death is only the beginning” into the inside of his sarcophagus lid like a bored emo kid in study hall.

“If you dry that fella out you might be able to sell ‘im for firewood!”  As I’m sure the writers knew, they actually did burn mummies to fuel trains back in less enlightened times.  And grind them up for medicine and paint and all kinds of stupid, disrespectful things.

I love how they refer to Imhotep as “our friend” and “our guy” when they’re discussing how horrible his curse was.  That sympathy fades quickly enough once they meet him, though.

“Probably got a little too frisky with the Pharaoh’s daughter.”  No, Rick, that’s you.  Bwahahahaha!

“No harm ever came from reading a book.”  Evy, you’re a librarian.  You should know better.

Poor Imhotep must have been so stiff after not moving for a few thousand years. I bet he had to do some stretches before he went looking for people to drain life force from.

Forecast for today:  mostly sunny with a 90% chance of locust plague.

Gotta love Imhotep’s one-track mind.  Woke up for the first time in 3k years, just regained sight and speech, and the first freaking thing he does is assume the first woman he sees is Anck-su-Namun.  Because of course he does.

I wonder if Ardeth got any backlash from the rest of the Med-Jai for giving the interlopers a chance to leave Hamunaptra.  If he had just slaughtered them all the previous night, none of this mess would have happened.

“He will never eat.  He will never sleep.  He will never stop.”  Awwwwwyeah.

Because he looks so rotted, Imhotep looks threatening as he slowly advances on Beni, but if he was fully regenerated I bet his expression would have been confused and even slightly amused at Beni’s religious roulette, something along the lines of “WTF is this idiot doing?”

Imhotep, did you really need to wear a mask to meet a blind guy?  (I know, I know, he needed the disguise to get through the hotel, but it’s still funny.)

He was even polite enough to thank Evy for saving him from undeath.  What a nice mummy!

Med-Jai discussing Imhotep and Anck-su-Nam:  “Even after 3,000 years, he’s still in love with her.” Evy:  “Well, that’s all very romantic, but...” Me:  “Yes.  Yes it is.  Shut up.”

“You came back from the desert with a new friend, didn’t you, Beni?”  One of my all-time favorite lines, and one I randomly quoted to my late goldfish, Benny, many times over the years.  LOL

Couldn’t Beni have found some better clothes for Imhotep to wear?  Those ragged robes make him look like a beggar.  Although considering he was running around in nothing but a few wisps of rotten bandages before, they couldn’t afford to be choosy.

The casual way Imhotep chews that scarab beetle that crawled into his mouth is such a power move.  LMAO

The longing in his voice as he whispers Anck-su-Namun’s name almost makes up for the fact that he kissed Evy right afterward.  I know you’re impatient to get your girlfriend back, man, but control yourself.  :p

Another classic bit: Evy, trying to translate hieroglyphics:  “Patience is a virtue!” Rick, looking at incoming torch-bearing mob:  “Not right now it isn’t!”

The crowds chanting “Im-ho-tep” are so iconic, and the way they part to let him pass gives me shivers.

“It’s the creature!”  Thanks for the reminder, as he’s now fully regenerated and looking damn fine.

OMG that little smirk Imhotep gives to Rick as he turns to walk away with Evy...  Imhotep isn’t stupid.  He can see Rick’s in love with her.

Ardeth wearing that flight cap and goggles, grinning as he rides on the plane’s wing, is the funniest damn thing in the movie.  It’s such a departure from his usual demeanor, which is what makes it work so well from a comedic perspective.

Why did Imhotep stop the sand vortex so far from Hamunaptra?  He could have deposited himself, Beni, and Evy on the doorstep, but instead he stopped on the other end of the valley.  I mean, sure, it gives plenty of room for the famous sand wall attack scene, but it was still weird.

Evy:  “Stop it!  You’ll kill them!” Beni:  “That’s the idea.” Well...YEAH!

Beni to Imhotep:  “I loved the, uh, sand wall trick, it was beautiful.  Bastard.”  That’s funny enough, and then you remember that Imhotep doesn’t understand English, and it’s even funnier.  Stop trying to brown-nose a man who doesn’t speak your language, Beni!

The whole Winston subplot always seemed so pointless.  Just deus ex machina to get the airplane in there.  Honestly, that’s my only complaint about the movie.

Yeah, Imhotep, you had better bow back when your newly-risen priests bow to you.  You owe them big time after the shitstorm you dragged them into.

OMG Ardeth is even more gorgeous in the glow of gold artifacts.  Heehee...

And then some of Imhotep’s priests barely rise from the ground before being mowed down by machine gun fire.  Damn, they get the short end of the stick every time, don’t they?

One second I’m like, “Oh hai Anck.  You need to moisturize better, lawl,” and then the next Imhotep strokes her face with such tenderness and whispers her name and I’m like, “Awwwww!”  That’s what’s so much fun about these movies.  There’s the silly, campy fun intertwined with actually poignant, emotional moments, in perfect balance.

I just noticed that Anck-Su-Namun’s reaction to being resurrected both in the prologue and later as a mummy was the same gasp and fluttering of her hands over her collarbone.  Neat detail.

There’s this little glimmer of “Whoa, cool, I did that!” sometimes when Imhotep uses his powers.  It’s adorable.  (Yes, I just called an undead plague-bringer summoning mummified soldiers to kill his enemies “adorable.”  I warned you in the disclaimer.)

I love how Anck-su-Namun’s first response when waking up was to try to beat the crap out of Evelyn/Nefertiri.  Old habits die hard, y’know.  She was probably disappointed that her opponent didn’t remember the old ways of combat...yet.

I hate that poor Imhotep had to watch the love of his life be killed in silhouette twice.

And again he promises, “Death is only the beginning.”

Then it’s time for one last moment of Ardeth being hot beyond all reason, some Rick and Evy kisses, Jonathan getting a face full of camel breath, and a happy ending for at least those four characters.  ;)

The end...for now!

[sole-cuore-amore-e-droga]

Tel Aviv 2019: Straight outta Estonia to Eurovision with a lowkey tribute to Avicii soundwise I guess

I’m not one of those people to go all their way out to overdefend Eesti Laul as “THE most diverse NF to ever exist songwise”, but even I was disappointed in this sudden rush of radiofriendly pop music that I would rather refuse to describe if I had to endure any of them ever again all at once this year. Remember - Netta won with being CRAZY! Why can’t Estonia be CRAZY even more! Was this secretly a bigger demand from the new producers or so that Estonia would need to out-radiofriendly the Latvians whose goal actually was to find a good radiofriendly song that’s enough for qualification????

Also, I kind of wanted to watch Eesti Laul, but I haven’t really settled with it, as I didn’t have enough patience to watch it one time it wasn’t on Saturday (!!). Even with Eesti Laul usually taking the live tweets from foreign fans into account and displaying some of them on the national Estonian television for good measure. And often showcasing their weirdness through crude animations every so often. But I already saw my Twitter timeline being full of that stuff, and for that I’m happy.

I did have some favourites despite being tired of all this pop stuff, and one of them was the ever-so-gender-ambiguous INGER (I say so cuz I thought it was a guy, turns out it’s a she, yeah), and I kind of wanted to see her win after the lowkey last minute interest towards her? But the televote didn’t seem to want any of it during the final public say, and didn’t even want Kerli (not the Spirit Animal Kerli) through despite of her being “hot” (are we now choosing ESC NF winners based on their looks??? tighten up ffs). Instead the final’s televote thought it’d be a good idea to fuck up the international jury’s expectations by putting through an act that got 2(!!!!!) finalised points from them jurors overall and making it win the superfinal. That televote 12 the act got beforehand was just enough for the guy to last-minute qualify over another act of 14 overall points, and who knows, maybe if it wasn’t for that 12, the winner would’ve been someone else. But it didn’t and we have a last minute qualifier victory because televote superfinal is a thing.

And in the literal sense of the way Estonian minds thought their victor that was unfairly treated by the juries was a Swedish singer Victor Crone and his song “Storm”, which was written by the one and only Stig Rastafarian~ err I mean Rästa. Stig is one mythical human creature that never rests a minute without really wanting to appear in the Estonian delegation somewhere every year - whether as all by himself, with someone else, as a songwriter for someone else, or even as part of a band (remember Traffic, anyone? Now that I think of it, the whole band looks like a puppet-act just for Stig to get to Eurovision and the other band members didn’t even want any of it in the first place). Just exactly what is Stig’s aim here? To "take it back to Tallinn”? To meet new people in Europe because he’s too lazy to travel otherwise? To boast about the many Estonian entries he contributed to? Beats me.

That and Victor Crone being Swedish, therefore a man more suited to Melodifestivalen (where he actually once participated in) and only on Eesti Laul because Stig really wanted to save his voice for this one and tag some randomer along with him just for the sake of yearly input to Eesti Laul. Well, at least Victor is historically joining Sahlene and Sandra Oxenryd as “a Swede represending Estonia for a year because what do we know for the Estonians that weren’t chosen instead”. Let’s check his song out.

First and foremost, as the title obviously states, the song reminds me of the late Avicii’s music style, especially around 2012-2013, when he was just starting to get bigger post-”Levels”-release. Just with a bit more singing surrounding the song because... well, maybe to fill up the song some more in order to not look awkward on stage during an instrumental part of the drop being as long as would be one you hear on the radio.

Then he has this easy-listening generic male radio voice that the audiences can not necessarily reasonate with, but it’s memorable, together with the chorus, whose purpose is to be memorable - you don’t need no message that’s special, you just need a melody to hum in your head for the next few weeks, and that’s basically what Stig was able to achieve with this little ditty. Then there’s the amazingly easy song structure: verse - chorus - verse - (extended) chorus - bridge - chorus (+ song ending). That’s a structure that works on basic songs to make them more user-consumption-friendly and not too overbearingly dragged out. And I enjoy it, just like I did “Light Me Up” last year, which was also sung by a mediocre-live-vocalist-Swede that could have easily ended up 6th in Melodifestivalen edition with such song, sadly. I do acknowledge that it’s basic, but I enjoy it.

The problem the Eurofandom finds with this song is that it’s too basic of a song from Eesti, Victor’s proven himself to be a dull live singer, and the chorus rhymes “like this” with “like this”, and all the self-rhymes are automatically shite. And it’s fine if a song I like has its flaws, but it automatically worries me that its live potential is automatically down the drain because of the singer’s lack of vocal compassion or strenght. That begs the question, why choosing THAT kind of song if it’s totally going to underperform live in Eurovision if the singer wasn’t sick in the NF at the time???

...oh I get it now, you Estonians must have thought Stig deserves another year in the Estonian greenroom. Or you found Victor hot. Or you find it great that a song about a storm actually was originally staged to look like Victor’s in a storm. At least for the televiewers’ eye. Because all that they see in the real arenas is the singers’ backs if they don’t turn around in time.

With visuals like these, why even need a music video! (except that there already is one, look at the beginning of the review)

All in all, all condiments are there: just the sugar, spice and everything nice there’s needed for a song like this to break a fandom like this. You can practically smell the Hesburger grease from this song. I don’t care if that’s a bad thing - if you like the song, that’s fine, just shut up and enjoy... but if you dislike it, welp, there’s no way I can change your mind then.

And a random backing singer. Not that she’s helpful as the one for Ott Lepland or anything, she just strikes like thunder and leaves no lasting impact whatsoever.

Greta Salóme’s imaginary cousin, is that you????

Now excuse me while I contradict and repeat myself some more in the next few paragraphs:

Approval factor: As you might have seen me shading Elina a lot last year, I can safely say that at last I’m spared from her vocal practice entrapped in a porcelain-and-silk dressing!!! I like “Storm” myself so I’ll sheepishly approve the hell out of it, lolol. :-)

Follow-up factor: I would be lying if I didn’t say that after a risky-ish way to get all out opera and then coming back to a safe song after doing well with that opera number weren’t a complete nosedive into an empty pool. Subjectively it flows way better for me, but objectively, and the same could be, once again, said for Eesti Lawl [sic] 2019, it is rather interesting of a letdown? But hey, maybe it was finally time for the Estonians to chillax a bit and cave in to send an Estonian-Swedish pop number after the opera stuff, after the 80s synthpop stuff, after the smooth and slightly orchestrated and a little bluesy number, and heart-grabbing ballads... just so they could keep up their ‘variety’ in case Hungary runs out of ideas and starts sending cop-outs of themselves. They already did it with rehashing one artist and one lyrical idea already this year (the catch is that the father’s alive!), honestly. And oddly enough, they have yet to send something a little more modern/electro-influenced that appeals to the common crowd... (”Running” may not count because not everyone can relate, whereas there are more cases of broken-off love (as if in the other half being a heartbreaker or the first half missing the other half so much that they feel “incomplete” than abusive fathers. Just what I think there is? If I’m wrong I obviously expect to be @’ed in the replies section lol) For this conclusion though I’ll say that my opinion says it’s a ‘’’decent’’’ follow up, but for Eurofans, it’s not very much so of such, idk.

Qualification factor: you may think it’s dead while going to perform in between the more badass entries AND mediocre live vocals, but it won’t at least be the worst Stig entry to ever place - around 14th in the semi at the very worst and maybe in the lower half of top 10 at very best imo. Nothing more, nothing less.

NATIONAL FINAL BONUS

I actually barely even bother with Eesti Laul since they don’t accept my Twitter comments live on their television anyways. Say, were there any Twitter comments live on their television this year? No one on Twitter boasted about it if they saw theirs from what I’ve seen, but what I’ve definitely found from the eager Eesti Laul watchers were some casual and usual Estonian oddities thrown on the broadcast, such as:

• The soft and warm but also random and deranged yearly transitional postcard animations (that were refered to as “crude” earlier in this review), which I commonly know now as “my last two braincells”. Even if the graphical theme itself of this year’s Ee-Lawl were oddly-shaped birds coming out in forms of letters, they didn’t really show up much in the broadcast I suppose, and the best fuckery with my mind this year definitely happened when I saw some of THOSE pop up on my Twitter timeline:

We now return to your regularly scheduled news programm~ wait why are you saying that the scheduled programme should be Eesti Laul

• Even if the most acts themselves weren’t that kooky musically, they were obviously interesting performance-wise. We were greeted with an impulsively quirky crazy cat lady Kaia Tamm who bemoaned the absence of the fluffy creatures in German somehow (you know Germany’s a terrible track-record keeper when the only song in German this year featured on Estonia and the only German in Eurovision this year was gonna be sung by an Ukrainian entrant if she was alowed to), as if a song in full Italian from last year wasn’t enough. Not only did she dress up as Alice in Wonderland with kitty ears, but her costumed dancers were entertaining, the violinist was FIRE and a cute large teddy bear looked cute on stage. Not to mention, someone have rightfully noticed that some costumed felines in the audience looked like as if they were to kill someone:

• Lumevärv too is an interesting thing. Never forgetting Lumevärv. This Inga woman, the fiery orangehead she was, used her 3 minutes on stage the best possible way with dancing with her back turned on at the audience and only looking at the camera, while millions of lights (which is sadly not what the songtitle "Milline päev" means) shone in the audience, creating an amazing mood.

• Hey everyone, the 10 years challenge is back! This time it’s with the violin virtuousess(???) Sandra Nurmsalu, the lead of Urban Symphony, who deserved much more than a 3rd place. Unfortunately the Estonians did not bring her back to get her desired revenge, which meant that they thought that they woodn’t need no magic tale fairy that’d grant them tree wishes and let her magic wand our out the wondrous [sic] sawdust. I’m already seeing myself out for how terrible this sounded. And it’s a bit saddening about this not doing as well as some hoped, considering she would have brough out the new and the better Jacques Houdek teas:

• Other favourite act of mine from this year, besides the aforementioned “ever-so-gender-ambiguous-looking INGER” with her indie-folk jingle “Coming Home”, was the charming disco-haired Sissi Nylia Benita with a wholesomely radio bop “Strong”, and they both actually looked like they stood a chance in the superfinal vote-up now that the actual Eesti Laul fan favourites, pretty cute pop boys like piano-indie-pop-driven Stefan and electro-pop-and-Kirkorov-driven Uku Suviste, were not receiving enough support by the juries I guess??? I’ll show a video to INGER if anything and link you all to the rest so you could judge these young and beautiful souls to yourselves in a way!

• Other note-worthy acts include another song about the notorious instrument horsefly in Ee-Lawl’s history that stood even less chance than “Parmupillihullus” but is still fun regardless, and the united forces of Tanja (EE 2014) and Birgit (EE 2013) trying to compose a bigband talk show anthem and dedicating the lyrics for them being ladies with their high heels out on. And honestly, that’s all I’m gonna talk of acts-wise because most other songs were THAT of a radiofriendly-radio-filler that they don’t warrant anything else exciting for me to say.

• No but for real, the voting to the superfinal was completely off-rails. Instead of Victor, juries were there to support that Kerli woman that wasn’t from 2017 (and her soft acoustic song too), as well as Sissi and INGER (but you already know that because I barely read my write-ups before I finish them, hence lots of redundancy). At least that’s all to my knowledge. But everything definitely changed when the televote attacked! And turned the top 3 all male, lol. This voting was rather random simply because the juries didn’t really love Victor, but it definitely took the televote to convince them that “lol Victor is definitely worth of Eurovision!!! screw that he’s non-Estonian!!!” (the difference is that Victor doesn’t have a big social media following unlike Bilal and didn’t win an obnoxiously people-powered talent show unlike USNK from A Dal 2018 - it’s just that he’s more backed by Stig Rästa, and Stig is love, Stig is life.) Honestly, I am all up for unpredictable voting, but if it looks unpleasant to me, then I feel like tuning out.

We’re over with this write-up, thank-fuck-fully, so that you won’t need to hear me lamenting how supposedly cheap “Storm” is ever again. But before that I will have to leave you with some Eurovision 2019 facts coming on: Estonian delegation can be lucky for once - instead of having had to panic for spending an egregious amount of money for a staging detail, this year they don’t have to worry, as the organizers were so shook by Victor’s stormy sky effect, they offered to pay for it themselves!!! Crazy, huh??? (reported for favouritism)

And now I’m done. And we’re moving on to another review and I end up wishing Victor Crone the every best of luck out there. Storm out with a good time well spent! (Whatever that might mean.)

[obfuscobble]

junopsis replied to your post

   Set and Hades must hang out at a bar somewhere sometimes and just unwind from all those “omg, why do the humans expect us to be such edgelords”   

OH BOY, FRIENDO, you KNOW it.  But I bet they both have a laugh about it too.  Like, they get together with Anubis and Persephone and Loki and Inanna and Susa-no-o and have rifftrax sleepovers just picking apart stuff.  And they’re honestly happy for Loki in recent years; at least one of them’s getting a reputation revamp.  But don’t get Persephone STARTED on any book or movie portraying her as a victim, lawl.

Although you’re assuming Set isn’t an edgelord, and I assure you he is a massive edgelord, but he’s the family’s edgelord that they can direct at worse edgelords.  He’s the epitome of “hey tumblr I found this picture of my uncle when he was 22 leaning against a grave in goth getup” except the nephew in this case is Horus and he’s finding it strangely intriguing.

Also people go on about ‘“Oh, Set killed his brother Osiris!!” and like... man, that’s family drama, honestly.  People still laud Zeus just for existing, and honestly all the BS HE’S done way outweighs “kill your brother as part of a legit funny party trick and then feed his dismembered penis to a fish.”  In that Zeus would be nonconsensually feeding his penis to a woman that he then nonconsensually turned into a fish so Hera wouldn’t find out if the story were about him.  People also forget that these types of deity families super existed on SUperhero Logic: “a god dies? oh, he’ll get better.”  Like, the numbers of gods who die for ever and ever outside of those slain in order that their body will create a part of the world is astonishingly small.  We’re talking a “tis but a flesh wound”situation here.

And. I’ll. Repeat. Does. No. Hollywood. Writer. Know. About. Apep.

[renaroo]

Double Time (16/24)

Disclaimer: Red vs Blue and related characters are the property of Rooster Teeth. Warnings: Language, Canon-typical violence Pairings: Tuckington, Chex Rating: T Synopsis: [Hero Time Sequel] After the events of Hero Time, the city and Blood Gulch are prepared for the true return of superheroes in a big way. But while Washington is attempting to adjust to a new relationship and a new living arrangement, the call of new heroes and a new mayor mean major changes for his professional life as well as his personal one. How will the balance of values fare when his new partners come to test everything he’s made of.

A/N: A day late! You have my apologies! It’s another plotty chapter but if you’re familiar with how Hero Time stories go you can probably predict what that means for the next couple of chapters ; ) We’re getting close, guys!! Eight chapters left!

Special thanks to @icefrozenover, @washingtonstub, @analiarvb, @thepheonixqueen, @cobaltqueen, Enmuse, Yin, @notatroll7, and @a-taller-tale on AO3 and tumblr for the wonderful feed back! I truly appreciate it more than you know.

Time to Take Charge

There were probably less dramatic ways to get into Church’s apartment, but Washington was running too short on time to act outside of his own instincts. So he went with the picking of the lock on the window and lifting it open so as to perch on the ledge as dusk settled behind him.

The usual.

By the time Church actually paused from typing at his computer, as if finally aware of another presence, Washington had thought of at least half a dozen ways any sort of villain or regular robber probably could have dismantled him. And it certainly wasn’t because they had known each other for six months and the level of aggression between being Tucker’s boyfriend and being Tucker’s best friend had only proved to mount itself higher.

Church nearly leaped out of his seat when he saw Wash, hand over his chest as his head leaned back. He was running fans loudly to apparently cool down his robotic body. “Jesus Fucking Christ,” he half-shouted. “You are, quite possibly, the worst fucking sight in the world for anyone with a remotely questionable past and maybe-not-so-great present record. Just so you’re aware.”

“Consider me aware,” Wash replied, continuing into the apartment as if acknowledgement served as invitation — which it practically did in Blood Gulch anymore.

Narrowing his eyes, Church crossed his arms and leaned back into his seat. “If you’re here to ask me for another updated superhero suit, you can fucking forget it. Tucker still owes me, like, three bar hops before the current disaster you’re wearing is paid off.”

“You consider your own work a disaster?” Wash asked casually, raising his brow.

Caught off guard, Church opened his mouth, closed it, muttered a bit. “I… that’s. No. Obviously. Just that… you. And your… like, corniness. It infects any design. And I hate it. Shut up,” he finally spat out. “What’re you here for?”

“I’m wondering if you’ve seen Tex,” Wash explained lowly.

As expected, Church pulled a full body flinch at the bare mention of his ex.

“Why? You guys having another hatefest sponsored by your animosity toward me? Again?” Church demanded angrily.

“No, of course not. That only happened once,” Wash replied casually.

“You’re such a fucking dick, I don’t know how Tucker puts up with you,” Church responded, somewhat aghast. “Like it’s amazing. Do you have any idea what a fucking saint he has to be for that?”

“I’m aware,” Wash replied flatly. “But this is about Tex. Have you seen her? I’ve only gotten texts and phone calls from her for the better part of a month and none of those have been more than… cryptic, at best.”

For a moment, Church looked at Wash puzzled. Then it just went to smug.

“Wow. Cryptic. How horrible. Would hate to be around someone who only spoke in cryptic codes all the goddamn time for the sake of being dramatic and secretive,” Church replied before turning back to his computer.

“You’re pissed that I exist and changed up whatever groove that Blood Gulch had before, I get it,” Wash replied with an aggravated sigh. “You want nothing to ever change and your misery to be the only thing that matters. But that’s just too bad, Church, because I’m around, and with a possible future mayor who is actually interested in bringing back a sense of real status quo to the city, these are things that are going to be good and they’re hopefully going to be permanent.” Knowing that the aggressive route was going to get him nowhere with Church’s legendary stubbornness, Wash reached up and pinched his brow and sighed. “Look, you and I both care about Tex not being in trouble and I’m worried about how little I’ve seen of her lately. Especially with things being… questionable with new heroes popping up, and the Reds getting more active on my orders around Blood Gulch. I just want to know she’s okay.”

“Wow, must suck to not see Tex for ages and have to worry about the worst for her. I feel so bad for you right now I could barf,” Church returned angrily.

“So you’ve not seen Tex,” Wash surmised.

“Oh, I’ve seen her plenty while you played House,” Church responded. “Who do you think I’m codebreaking for at the moment? Just the lawls? She’s been up my ass getting shit out of me for whatever nonsense she’s been playing for months now. Dunno why you’re not included. Probably for the best. She’s probably aware what a nuisance you are.”

Caught off guard, Wash neared Church. “What? You two are working together? On what—“

“I don’t know,” Church groaned before catching himself and shaking his head. “Actually, I know. I totally know because I totally asked why I was doing this instead of just… y’know, following her orders without question. But because she respected me so totally much by asking me to do this for her, I don’t have to tell you. She obviously wants to keep it to herself.”

Washington stared at Church for a moment before rushing to the back of his computer chair and attempting to lean in over his shoulder.

“Hey! What the hell! Back off!” Church cried out over dramatically, pulling against Wash to no avail.

“Just let me see what you’re working on—“ Wash said before seeing that there were multiple black windows all across the computer screen with white, green, blue, and red text in brackets that continued to fly out at speeds that nearly crossed Wash’s eyes. He leaned back and away from the screen entirely.

“What the hell’s that?” he asked, shocked.

“Codebreaking, the fuck did you think it looked like?” Church asked, taking the initiative to shove Wash further away from him though, with his strength, it did little other than causing his own chair to roll away from his station. Church then erupted into a series of frustrated, mewling noises that never quite formed words before he threw up his arms and glared at Wash. “Would you just fucking leave already?”

“No, I haven’t gotten everything I’m here for,” Wash said simply.

“Oh my god you are the worst superhero,” Church groaned, clapping his hands over his face and dragging them down dramatically. “What, Wash? What do you want from me other than my sanity? Which you are doing wonders for making me lose entirely.”

Ignoring the dramatics, Wash looked intently toward Church. “I want you — whenever you take time off from… all of this — to head over to my apartment and completely redo the security system.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Church cried out in annoyance. “I’m not a fucking handyman, Wash!”

“It’s not a favor and it’s not a request,” Wash answered.

“Your people skills are astoundingly inept,” Church continued to insult.

“It’s a safety precaution for Tucker and Junior,” Wash went on without pause. “The stuff I’ve gotten into… it’s making me nervous. Nervous enough that I’m questioning the validity of the security system as it stands now. I think that whatever’s coming is going to be worse than what I’ve prepared for, and I think there’s reason to believe that I’ve been watched and followed to the point that Tucker and Junior’s security has been jeopardized.”

Taking a moment to let the words wash over him, Church leaned back and narrowed his eyes once more. “You’re… What are you involved with?”

“I don’t know, but it could go to the top, and with as chummy as at least one of our mayoral candidates are with Felix—“

“Dude, what the fuck’s wrong with Felix?” Church scoffed. “Did he save your ass too many times? Embarrass poor widdle kitty cat?”

“He found us in a park and threatened us about six hours ago,” Wash replied critically.

“Whoa,” Church said, brows raised. “Did you deserve it?”

“Did Tucker?” Wash snapped, beginning to lose his cool.

“I mean, he did make the choice to fuck you against my better judgment so,” Church responded with a rotation of his hand.

“You might be the worst friend a person could have,” Wash reveled out loud.

“Wrong, asshole! I’m the best friend a person could have because I’m going to pull your asses out of the fire and go look over your security system and what not and then give Tucker relationship advice. Again. For ten hours. Again,” Church replied, shutting off his computer after a final line of text that was incomprehensible to Wash. “And probably suffer the wrath of my ex-girlfriend for putting off her shit… again. I’m like the most selfless motehrfucker in this entire goddamn world, and it’s about time someone around here recognized me for it.”

“You’re doing a good job of recognizing yourself,” Wash amended. “Are you heading over right now?”

“No, I’m stopping everything in my tracks for a pizza I can’t eat — of course I’m heading over there, you just said my best friend is about to get himself damseled. I’m either going to stop that shit or I’m going to enjoy watching it unfold,” Church said wryly.

“Good, tell Tucker I’ll be home late,” Wash said, heading for the window.

“Wait a second, Washington,” Church called out, drawing the hero’s attention again.

“What?”

“Mayor reestablishing a good status quo… mayoral candidate with a suspicious relationship to the guy who’s threatening you,” Church listed off his fingers. “Do you… have some kinda political angle in all of this going on, too? Hm?”

“What’s it matter?” Wash asked. “I’m calling balls and strikes and Kimball’s got questionable company and policies.”

Church’s brows raised again. “Kimball, hm? Interesting. Interesting. You know, this really is something you should talk to your boy…. Nope. Still can’t say that word for you two. Anyway, hope you talk to Tucker about it because that’ll be an amazing one. I would actually sit in the room and watch that one.”

“Tucker’s not for Kimball,” Wash said with a shake of his head.

“Ha ha ha ha ha ha,” Church called out in bland succession before heading for his door. “Oh, yeah. Definitely going to be in the room for that one.”

Wash scrutinized the robot as he made his way out but shook his head and left all the same. There was a lot to do that night, and Tucker’s annoying friends were something to deal with at a later date.

[aceprosecuties]

Imagine! While visiting Nahyuta Simon occupies himself by training with the guards. Nahyuta being concerned because he can't find Simon anywhere. He's checked almost every room and hallway. Nothing. Eventually he finds a guard who just leads him to his dorky boyfriend who seems to be enjoying himself by sparing with any guard who wants to.

HE WOULD LIKE A HUGE FUCKING NERD yet he’s also a nerd who can destroy when it comes to swordfighting SO. 

Simon isn’t one to show outward excitement, so to most people it doesn’t automatically look like he is thrilled to be in Khura’in visiting his oh-so-important regal boyfriend.  But...Nahyuta knows the truth, and that is what mattered.  “That’s just how his face looks,” Nahyuta tells people who wonder why his ‘consort’ always appears either angry or smug. 

So yeah, Simon is happy.  It’s been some time since he last visited Khura’in, but the guards and servants in the palace obviously remember him, and are always way too polite for their own good.  Their professional attitude spurred a mischievousness in the twisted samurai.  He couldn’t help it; last time he was here, he played a few pranks on them, leading to a very lengthy sermon from Nahyuta about being a “proper royal guest.”  Simon had rolled his eyes and just said that if Nahyuta actually kept him entertained he wouldn’t have had to go “play by himself.”  It wasn’t a fair attack; he knew that Nahyuta’s duties as the king-regent did come before entertaining his grumpy monochromatic boyfriend, but Simon liked to play around and mess with the monk whenever he saw the opportunity.  And the more bored he got, the more games he would play.  

Unfortunately, entertaining himself had become a necessity every time he visited Khura’in, and this time was so exception, leading to much of his earlier excitement to dampen quickly.  Nahyuta had been pulled into a meeting with his mother and sister and a group of advisers, and Simon had no idea when he was supposed to get out.  Part of him debated going to torment Justice at his office, but Simon decided to be uncharacteristically merciful and spare the overworked attorney from his mocking remarks and pranks.  

(cut because lawl this got long)

He spent some time in Nahyuta’s room, playing on his handheld console that he had actually brought with him this time.  Unfortunately...he forgot the charger, he soon realized, and groaned.  After briefly contemplating calling Athena (and dismissing that idea because of the time difference), he decided to just get up and roam the grounds of the royal palace. 

Being the “consort” of the king-regent had its advantages, of course.  One of which was that there were very few places he was barred from, and even those he probably could get into with a well placed scowl and a threat.  But he decided to “play nice” this time around.  He wasn’t in the mood for more sermons. 

That also meant he had to cease his pranks.  Damn.  That would’ve been far more entertaining than just roaming the halls aimlessly. 

But then, he steps through a door and outside...Simon didn’t recognize this particular area, and stops to see two guards training, wooden swords in their hands.  

This could be interesting. 

After watching for maybe two minutes Simon calls out to the pair, telling them that their stances are wrong and that they’ll never be able to protect Nahyuta with such sloppy technique.  The two are obviously bristled a bit by his brash commentary, but they say nothing for fear of incurring the consort’s wrath.  

Simon grabs a spare training sword and takes off his overcoat, vest, and tie.  He rolls up his sleeves and even readjusts his hair so it is in a high ponytail rather than its usual low one.  

“Since your king-regent is just so rude to his guests, you two will need to be my entertainment until he’s finished with whatever he is currently doing.” 

The guards look at each other, uncertainty in their eyes.  “We...we don’t think that His Excellency would want us to spar with you, Prosecutor Blackquill.  He would be very cross with us if we hurt you.” 

Simon laughs. 

“With what I saw, you’ll be lucky to even land a hit on me.” 

They raised their eyebrows; surely he must be joking?  As tempting as it was to silence the prosecutor’s cocky attitude, they still did not move.  They might have feared Simon Blackquill, but in the end, they feared the wrath of Nahyuta Sahdmadhi far more. 

“Tell you what,” Simon said, knowing he would need a different strategy.  “If you can land a hit on me, I’ll put in a good word with your beloved king-regent for you.  Maybe he’ll promote you, or something.” 

And that was enough to get the two fighting over who got to go first. 

------

Nahyuta felt horrible about how late his meeting had run, and so rushed back to his room as soon as it was complete.  He figured that he would owe Simon more than a few apologies, and would probably also owe him some favors.  

But rather than seeing his less-than-pleased boyfriend on his bed or...anywhere else, Nahyuta was met with an empty bedroom.  When a servant walked by he asked her if she had seen Prosecutor Blackquill, to which she replied in the negative.  Alright, fine...he’ll just call him. 

Except Simon left his phone in the room.  Great. 

Well, he couldn’t have gotten too far, right? 

Nahyuta spends the next twenty minutes searching through all the main rooms and hallways, even going to the gardens and Rayfa’s room to see if he was tormenting her in either of those places.  He couldn’t help it - a small panic had began to settle in the pit of his stomach with every moment that passed.  

Okay, okay, calm down.  He probably just went to Apollo’s. 

He calls up his foster brother and asks if he’s seen Simon, only for Apollo to say that he didn’t even know that Simon had landed already.  Nahyuta can hear Datz in the background yelling for him and “his squeeze” to treat them to dinner, but he ignores it and thanks Apollo before hanging up.  

Simon is a grown man, there’s no need for this uncomfortable reaction, Nahyuta thinks, as if that will stop him from freaking out.  But it was unsettling...no one seems to have seen him, and...were there fewer guards around than normal?  What if something happened to him?  Nahyuta was not free of all his enemies, and what if someone had gotten into the palace and taken Simon right from under his nose? 

He’s running now, going through the halls and searching for any indicator of black and white.  

“Sire!” 

Finally.  Nahyuta spins on his heels as a guard catches up to him.  

“Apologies, Your Excellency, but I heard you were searching for Prosecutor Blackquill.” 

“Yes, have you located him?” 

The guard tells Nahyuta to follow him, and they end up at the training grounds, where a large crowd has gathered, circling...someone.  Well, apparently this was where all the guards were too.  Nahyuta says nothing, but puts his hands behind his back and walks.  Once the guards recognize his presence, they immediately part and bow their heads, so he reaches the inner part of the circle easily. 

And he sees what they were all surrounding.

His boyfriend, holding a wooden training sword at a poor recruit’s throat, smiling widely as he panted softly, sweat beading on his brow.  He hadn’t noticed Nahyuta, and told his opponent to yield in a commanding tone.  Said opponent was about to say something, but ended up saying nothing before he scrambled to his feet, having glanced over to see Nahyuta standing across from them. 

“Y-Your Excellency!” 

Simon turned, holding his wooden sword on his shoulders.  He was grinning, showing off his teeth in a truly happy smile that Nahyuta was shocked to see, as it was rare and not...really what he was expecting.  The image had silenced what was going to be a scathing comment about worrying him.  

“I...see you have found entertainment.” 

“Yeah, but I gotta say...your guards need better sword-training.  I might have to do a few more lessons with them.” 

Nahyuta thought for a moment.  “...I suppose.” 

If it made Simon happy.  He did owe him, after all.