#and just adjusting his behavior accordingly to fit in

[cuethediscoandthedrinks]

hay bestie guess who .

would u ever write brattamer!eddie munson for meeeeee <3 cos i think he’d be good at keeping me in check without being too mean (for my sensitive girlies out there) and his praise would just hit different yanno 🫶🏼

thank u my love !!!

— mimi 🎀

brat!taming-eddie munson headcanons

although i see him as a meandom!switch, i'll let it slide bc ik u've had a rough week mimi~

🧡despite the brat vibe he has to deal with in his social life, eddie'll likely make time for his sweet baby and her bratty antics in the bedroom tbh

🧡he's not too stern honestly, like if you back-talk or throw a mini!fit, he's more likely to sit you on his lap, ask "..mmm, baby, what's gotten my sweet girl in such a state, huh?", whilst rubbing soft, little circles into your back than threaten or lecture u

🧡bc although he's a bit of a trolly guy, he's happy to play serious brat!tamer eddie for u. it also gets him a little riled up, bc the idea that you'd even push back means ur comfortable w him, and it makes his heart beat extra hard yk.

🧡if ur a lil in the sensitive side too, or having an especially bad week, his favorite thing to do is predict how you'll let off that brat!steam and act accordingly;

🧡will it be through some extra subby!baby behavior?

🧡will it be through throwing all sexual energy on the back-burner and focusing on work?

🧡orrrr, will it be a pretty babydoll pout, doe-eyed upward gaze, and a classic soft, slight little high-pitched whine telling him exactly what you want without a single word

🧡he can read your body language pretty well at this point tbh, and i think if he knows ur up for a little brat!vibe he'll def be down to play around w you

🧡but don't think this is some playmate dynamic ofc. he's got you on a tight leash, sweetheart.

🧡he'll play, but think about it more like cat and mouse. he knows you, and he knows just how to push ur horny!buttons too

🧡he'll test u with some light brushes up against you; maybe some breathing on ur neck when he goes to reach something in a cupboard;

🧡could also be running a hand through his hair, adjusting his belt buckle; or his secret weapon: playing with and adjusting his rings while he flexes his fingers, yk

🧡he'd love to make u squirm by mixing some degradation with praise too, for sure, like-

🧡"ah, my pretty babygirl just needs me, does she?...mhm, well that's a little..whorish, isn't it? don't you feel embarrassed?"

🧡or maybe smth a little more pitiful, like "does it tingle sugar?... i know, i know. no, no, don't rub your thighs together, i didn't say so, i didn't give permission, my little princess slut"

🧡maybe some small smirks and squinted eyes, bc he knows the brave, bratty front you put on it just that; a little bit of babydoll theatrics bc u know that's the most you'll ever get~

🧡if he wants to turn the tables, he'll just do it too. despite thinking you're finally getting some sexual catharsis, all this 'bratty' behavior is 99% just for his entertainment.

🧡when you throw a baby!hissyfit, he'll do his best to maintain a serious expression tho; "..ohh, baby, you know you can't touch that pretty pussy without permission tho, don't you??", hiding his hidden amusement with a small 'tssk' and pursed lips

🧡he loves when you pluck up the courage to talk back too. arguably more than going against a physical rule like touching urself, bc he actually kinda digs the idea that you literally can't hold back just based on the thought of him

🧡but u backtalking means you're up for an intellectual battle, and obv one you're certainly going to lose. answering with a stern "no!" or"nuh-UH!" are exactly the phrases to get him hard and throbbing underneath his pants.

🧡smth about your pouty blushed lips and flushed, rosy cheeks just remind him that he's really the one in control here.

🧡it doesn't matter if you stomp ur foot, or cross ur arms, he'll unravel any plan to be bratty just by a couple looks and some condescending, patronising "well, sugar, you think you know what's best...do you?...ohh, baby, no, i don't think so"

🧡you're upset now, but just wait until he has you over his knee; spanking those pretty sticky pussy lips until they're all swollen and pink, bc he will

🧡seeing you pluck up the courage to look him right in the eyes, furrow your brows and stand on your tippy-toes still does things to him, and he knows once he appeals to the innate subby!baby side of yours, you'll be back on ur best behavior for him anyway, so it's a winning game for him.

🧡he'll never enlighten you on that fact tho, because seeing you struggle and squirm is just too much fun

hope u liked sweeties! feel like requesting something? here's the link <3

i think y'all would like this: @princesssmimi @anisbaby @creme-bruhlee @punanisher @killerlookz @mypoisonedvine @meeshasmind @babybugwrites @becca-e-barnes

#stranger things x reader #stranger things #stranger things fluff #stranger things smut #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #jim hopper #jim hopper x reader #jim hopper x you #jim hopper x y/n #stranger things headcanons #stranger things blurbs #stranger things imagine #cuethediscoandthedrinks #cuethedisco #drabbles #ask answered #fanfic #fanfiction #reqs open #requests open

[mimisempai]

Don't hide what's inside you

Summary

Frank, tired after jogging through the abandoned city, is surprised to see how carefully Bill takes care of him and his battered feet.

Notes

Continuing my journey with Bill and Frank… Hope you still appreciate it.

On AO3

Rating G - 1293 words

Frank was exhausted. Exhausted, but happy. He had found some sports clothes and sneakers that fit him in the abandoned clothing store, and so he had decided to go for a run. It was big enough, and for once he was happy to run for running's sake, not to escape.

Bill muttered that he didn't see the point of running for the sake of running, but that didn't stop Frank from enjoying it. However, in spite of his complaints, Bill had a clean towel and a fresh bottle of water ready for Frank when he came back. Showing once again how caring he was, even though he often tried to hide it behind layers of grumpy behavior.

Frank had just taken a relaxing shower, and after he had changed into some casual clothes, he had gone to sit on the couch next to Bill, who was reading a book.

But now that he was sitting, he didn't know where to put his feet. Even though he had been moving around a lot lately, his body, and especially his feet, were still feeling the effects of the intense exercise. He stretched them out in front of him, but this position did not bring the relief he was looking for, so he put them on the coffee table in front of him. There, too, the result was not convincing.

Suddenly, he saw Bill put down his book, get up and walk to the kitchen. There he heard him rummaging in the small medicine cabinet, and Frank watched as he returned with a small jar in his hand, which he placed on the armrest and sat back down on the couch. As soon as he was settled, he picked up one of the couch cushions and put it in his lap. Then Bill turned to Frank and said, pointing to his feet, "Put them on the cushion." 

Frank, surprised, obeyed and leaned back against the armrest so he could place his bare feet on the cushion in Bill's lap.

Bill opened the small jar and put some ointment on his hands. A sweet floral scent quickly filled the air and Bill's hands settled on Frank's left foot. As soon as Frank felt two thumbs pressing gently and firmly on the sole of his foot, he couldn't hold back a sigh of contentment.

Bill's hands were amazingly skilled and soft. After all, Frank shouldn't have been surprised; Bill had shown more than a little thoughtfulness since the first day he'd served him dinner, whether it was the care he'd taken to display the food, the way he'd served him wine, or the clothes he'd prepared for him. Many small details that spoke volumes about Bill.

Bill's two thumbs massaged the ball of Frank's foot in circles, and it felt so good that Frank couldn't stop himself from moaning.

Bill stopped immediately and asked in a concerned tone, "Did I hurt you?"

Frank shook his head, "Oh no, not at all, keep going.

Bill chuckled softly and resumed his circular movements for a few moments. It was as if he knew exactly where to press. Then Bill lingered on each toe, each knuckle, paying attention to Frank's slightest reactions and adjusting his movements accordingly. Finally, he released the left foot, reapplied some ointment to his hands, and moved to the right foot, giving it the exact same treatment from sole to toe.

When he was finished, as Frank tried to remove his feet, Bill held them back and laid them on the pillow. He then lifted Frank's sweatpants legs up to his knees before applying more ointment to his hands. This time he went up Frank's shins before gently massaging his calves, which were stiff from the effort. Once again, he dug out every knotted muscle and skillfully massaged them, accompanied by Frank's appreciative moans. He continued in this same careful manner with both of Frank's legs.

As he gently put the pants legs back on, Frank said to him in amazement, “You're so good at this.”

Bill replied, "I... I did it for my mother in the end. Since she couldn't afford a home health aide, I trained as best I could and was able to give her at least some relief and comfort until the end."

Frank was an emotional person, it had always been a part of his character, even long before the epidemic hit. But Bill, with that mixture of bear-like behavior and the incredible gentleness he hid behind it, had the ability to heighten his emotions even more. There was no doubting that he had loved his mother, just judging by the devotion with which he cared for her piano, which was the only piece of furniture that hadn't gathered dust. 

It moved Frank to the core of his being to have Bill share some of the details of his past with him in this way, to reproduce for him the gestures that he had so thoughtfully given to his mother. 

Bill now had a hand on Frank's ankle and looked away, as if afraid he had revealed too much.

Frank straightened up and reached for Bill's hand on his ankle. He took it and kissed each knuckle before he said quietly, "Thank you."

"It's nothing," Bill shook his head and started to pull his hand away.

But Frank stopped him and insisted, "It's not nothing to me. Be it the massage or be it what you have just shared with me."

He straightened until he was sitting next to Bill, then let go of his hand and pushed the pillow to the floor before taking his place on Bill's lap, leaving the man gasping in surprise. Frank, who was now straddling Bill, took his hands and brought them to rest on his own hips. Then framing Bill's stunned face with his hands, he said softly, "Bill, when I told you that I was staying for a few days, I was actually thinking of staying a lot longer than a few days. So since I plan to stay, I'm happy to learn new things about you. I'm happy to know that you have learned to give massages to help your mother and that I am now the recipient of such care. This is not nothing to me. Even less so in the current situation. On the contrary, it's everything to me.”

Frank leaned his head forward and pressed his lips to Bill's in a kiss that would convince the man better than words. Then, as he pulled himself up to catch his breath, still holding Bill's face between his hands, he repeated, "Thank you."

When Bill nodded gently and replied softly, "You're welcome," he knew that Bill had gotten the message.

Frank let go of his face and, still sitting on his lap, dropped his head forward and they ended up forehead to forehead.

Bill slid his hands from Frank's waist up his back and pressed him against his chest.

Frank breathed against him, their breaths mingling, "Yeah, just like that."

Bill hummed and Frank felt him relax against him. Pecking his lips, he added gently, "Don't be afraid to show me who you really are. I'll take it all. The good, the bad, the happy, the sad, the beautiful, the ugly, I want to know it all."

Bill nodded slowly, "I'll try." Then he pecked Frank's lips in turn and continued, "Only if you do the same."

Frank replied bluntly, "It's a deal," and then, still sitting on his lap, he slipped a little and let his head fall on Bill's shoulder. They stayed like that for a long time, in a silence that didn't need to be filled. For they had told each other everything.

And that was enough for now.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Bill and Frank masterlist : here

#the last of us #the last of us spoilers #the last of us show #bill the last of us #frank the last of us #bill and frank #bill x frank #true love #strawberry lovers #developing relationship #the last of us fanfiction #foot rub

[nymphiya]

Happy Birthday ! — 03/06 | @fairyofkalos

"...Wha— Mache, there's no way I could possibly accept this! It’s way too..”

diwata sputters out upon seeing what exactly his dear friend had decided to gift him . a whole fucking dress . . tailored just for him . not to mention that it was pretty , too .

much too pretty for him to wear . it just wouldn’t suit him .

"Too what, dear?”

the gym leader of lavarre , valerie ( or perhaps , personally known as mache to diwata ) , simply smiled cheekily in reply . . which made diwata briefly thought of violence . sibling instinct , he thinks dumbly to himself , having gotten used to having another annoying , older sister . it wasn’t his fault that he saw valerie as an older sister figure , but it more or less . . situated herself into that role , especially when it was always so kind and understanding to him .

hell , fai had also been the one to give him his florges , meringue , as a means of looking out for him when fai can’t .

the trainer bites his tongue , considering his words carefully . while he appreciated valerie’s hard work , he was still . . unsure of accepting such a gift . he knew it was bad manners to not accept gifts , but just recieving them in general always made him want to cry . . especially when it was something that clearly had a lot of thought put into it .

he never did do anything to deserve such nice things , after all .

“It’s too.. nice. I don’t think I could—.. Where would I even wear this?”

upon catching the disappointed look in valerie’s eyes , diwata almost immediately felt like slapping himself . arc , if there was one thing he hated , it was not being able to please his loved ones others . he couldn't stand seeing the displeased look on valerie's face .

"Don't be silly. You could wear this anywhere you'd like, lita. It doesn't have to be used only for a particular occasion."

"Easy for you to say! You wear your kimono like— everyday.. or at least, every time I see you. It looks like it weighs a ton."

valerie merely giggled in reply , pushing up her glasses so it didn't fall off the bridge of her nose . this was one of those rare moments where diwata could see her real eyes like this , a remarkable hue of dark pinks and purples .

he could never understand why people would make rumors of her being a fairy . they just had a habit of wearing strange eye contacts , that's all .

"Well, you're correct. 33 pounds, to be exact~! It functions as being both comfortable enough for everyday-wear, yet stylish."

valerie seems awfully proud of that , before pausing . . looking to be deep in thought . diwata briefly wonders where they even store their pokéballs . . inside her sleeves , maybe ??

"Hm.. How about you try it on, at least? And then, I'll make adjustments accordingly to suit your tastes. It'd be such a pity to have a gift put to waste if the person receiving didn't like it, after all."

diwata opens his mouth , as if to object , before promptly closing it like shut . valerie was still smiling like the delecatty who got the cream , and it only made diwata all the more embarrassed at the idea of trying such a frilly little thing on .

oh arceus , he was dreading the fact that'd have to look at himself in the reflection too . . ack —

"..Okay."

"Wonderful~! You can go change behind that divider, alright? I'll be in the next room if you need anything."

diwata can only nod dumbly as he watches the fashion designer leave the room . . leaving him alone with the dress . that stupid dress .

he never looked good in dresses anyways . . this is so stupid —

and yet , diwata still finds himself drawn to all the lace and ribbons . . laughing to himself about how this would be considered typical fairy - type specialist behavior . oh arceus , he must be a walking stereotype by this point .

. . might as well try it on , if only to see valerie's pleased expression .

oh .

. . oh .

of all the things diwata expected to happen when he put on the dress , he hardly expected that the dress would fit him so nicely . it wasn't tight - fitting , but it was definitely snug on him . . a good fit — like a glove , he'd say .

the dress was adored in all sorts of frills , white yet with visible pink accents . he wasn’t sure what material valerie had used , but he could distinctly make out all the lace that covered the tutu .

frankly , it reminded him of tanghulu's mega evolution form and — oh ! that's the motif then . . mega diancie . how sweet , he thinks . that explained the small train part of the dress then .

although , diwata isnt sure if this would even be considered formal wear . . a dress like this seemed far too extravagent for that sort of thing .

he was so distracted by his reflection — hah . narcissus much ? — that he hardly noticed valerie entering the room again until he felt a warm hand on his shoulder . his body instinctively jolts at the touch , before relaxing just as quickly .

"I look so..."

"Beautiful."

diwata gives a small , hesitant nod . he wouldn't use that word for himself personally . . but , maybe pretty would work . he was just pretty .

"I look like a princess.. one of those— Uhm. Magical girls."

he says with almost nervous laughter , but he beams a little when he sees valerie's pleased smile in the mirror . she was always smiling ( did she ever stop ? ) , but he could tell this one was especially genuine .

"That was the point. I must say, you look absolutely captivating~! Don't you think?"

"..I- I guess. Yeah."

"Hmhm... Any adjustments to be made then?"

"No, no- It's.. perfect."

diwata doesn't smile at his reflection in the mirror , but he does find himself playing with the fabric on the tutu between his fingers . so soft , he thinks to himself . it made him happy to know that valerie also had his comfort in mind when designing this dress . itchy fabrics should be damned to the distortion world .

he hardly noticed valerie had pulled away until she started speaking again .

"Oh, yes— I almost forgot... Ma fée, I have one more gift I must give you."

"..It better not be another dress, Mache."

"Oh, don't be silly. Here, just hold out your hand for me, okay?"

diwata doesn't question valerie further , even if it wasn't in him to blindly trust . he simply holds out his hand obediently , like a dumb swirlix being asked for its paw , and closes his eyes .

something is placed onto his palm , round like a ball yet small . it was almost embarrassing how easily diwata had recognized that the gym leader had given him a pokéball . . but what of its contents inside ?

when he opens her eyes , he gives valerie a curious look , to which fai just smiles at xer like always . no help at all , it seemed .

"Go on, open it."

"..You know you didn't have to—"

"I know. Just open it, dear. I'm sure you'll love him."

diwata simply lets out a sigh , before unlatching the pokéball and opening it . there was a bright flash of blinding white light at first , and then something emerges .

it was . . . a klefki .

#// this would count as . uhm !! a character study and relationship exploration — i think ? (*'▽'*) #// anyways enjoy the sillies :3c #fairyofkalos #tanghulu the diancie #offscreen post #off screen #rotomblr #pokeblr #pkmn irl #pokeblogging #pokeblog roleplay #pkmn rp #pokeblog rp #pokemon irl

[dmclemblems]

Just some examples below of characters at camp in GW not being okay with what Claude does (mainly to reiterate past points I’ve made about him/the route):

Mind you, the game forces all characters to cooperate with Claude in GW, even though a lot of them disagree (Marianne adamantly is against everything Claude is doing and expresses it regularly. Her excuse for not leaving or doing anything about is that she hopes the war ends quickly, but she still repeatedly expresses that she doesn’t believe what they’re doing is the right thing to do).

Lorenz repeatedly questions Claude’s decisions, as he should, but due to it being the GW route, all the characters have to follow what he does and just deal with it. There’s no “hey this is bullshit I’m out”, when realistically at this point a good handful of characters would’ve walked out.

This proves the writer’s are totally aware of what they’re writing and know the nuance to it! It’s just that... because Claude is the main character of this route, he’s swept up in the story and has to be adjusted to fit the story accordingly.

There’s no happy ending for the Kingdom and Alliance unless Sylvain (who is a major player in Faerghus politics) can agree to it, which is highly unlikely after he openly expresses his hatred for Claude/the Alliance (as he puts it, the “invaders”, which... were Claude/the Alliance).

Also, I have another post with the camp part of Hapi saying that it’s scummy of the Alliance/Federation that the only reason she and Constance are alive is because they surrendered. In other words, she finds the “surrender or die” thing to be scummy. Then we have Yuri, who notices the same issue:

This point proves that Claude is pretty cold hearted in this route. He not only forces Ashe to surrender (or die, as is implied by his dialogue when he says “Dimitri would be sad if you died” and thus urging him to surrender), but then he even has Ashe fight against his own people.

While this is a recruit mechanic issue and is a problem in all routes generally speaking, it’s not highlighted upon by other characters about other characters. That is to say, Petra for example in AG will express relief that they didn’t have to kill Dorothea, but she doesn’t mention anything about Dimitri forcing them to fight the Empire (which Petra decides to do entirely by her own will). Dorothea expresses some reluctance at first in her own camp dialogue, but it’s never mentioned that Dimitri is forcing anyone to fight against their will.

The fact that other characters are commenting on it means other characters are seeing and understanding what’s going on (which is more than a lot of players can say apparently, like the ones who blindly send hate to people who didn’t enjoy GW/SB lol). They recognize that everything Claude is doing is just shitty and shouldn’t be what they’re doing.

So... why do they keep fighting with him? Because... bad writing. That’s honestly it. Because they’re all forced, by the writing and route’s story, to keep fighting for Claude even though probably a good half of his camp doesn’t agree with his actions. Even though, if this were a better story even somewhat, and if Claude still did what he’s been doing here in this somewhat better story, the story would be made better by the disagreeing characters defecting to the Kingdom. Mind you, three background lords did try to defect to the Kingdom... and were promptly shut down from defecting.

If this were a good story, Claude wouldn’t have had his morals flipped on their head. If this were a decentish story, Claude would have lost a good chunk of his allies who defected after being fed up with his behavior and decisions. If this were a bad and lazily written story, it would look like it does.

ALSO I ran out of tags to explain my last point BUT

the irony of all this is that when he killed Shahid, he was trying not to cry and got drunk over it. This guy who had been trying to kill him and would’ve done so without batting an eye (and probably would’ve told everyone and bragged about it), this guy who has been presumably among his siblings trying to kill him his entire life, and this is who he feels guilty about killing. Then he goes marching to Faerghus, invades them and says he just wants to talk while forcing one of their royal knights to surrender or die.

Apparently Claude would rather feel sad about the brother of his that tried to murder him than the innocent people who never wronged him.

#Three Hopes #Three Hopes Spoilers #and the thing is it's hard for Claude fans to stomach this in general like #this isn't dominantly Claude haters who hate GW. it's people who love Claude who don't like the story #it's people who loved the guy they knew in Houses being like wtf is this writing #why is Claude so different when Dimitri and Edelgard aren't different #Dimitri is just the same as he'd be post Gronder in AM but a bit younger and with more supportive friends #and didn't have to be on the run for five years all by himself with a super bad mental illness #like... it's the same Dimitri at his core. Edelgard is the same person at her core and she strives for the same goals #Claude has some personality alterations that make sense in that he didn't attend school for the whole year #so his friendships weren't formed the same way and he spent less time with Dimitri to get to know him #so when he says ''I still have no idea what's going on in Dimitri's head'' that's a 180 contrast from AM Claude #who Byleth can point out Claude knows/understands very well #so yeah his general uncertainty about people he didn't know as well makes sense #but changing his morality and his views on war and bloodshed and how far he's willing to go isn't the same #Claude would take any available means to resolve something peacefully. if this were happening with Houses Claude #he would have sent a letter to Dimitri asking to meet with him to talk first so they could figure things out #because WHAT DO YOU KNOW in the secret chapter when they talk it proves that's all he even needed to do to get some answers #it just makes Claude look dumb despite Houses pointing out that he's very intelligent and the opposite of a typical #person raised in Almyra because they're similar to Faerghus in that they value strength #Claude isn't super powerful and instead has a good head on his shoulders which makes him feel even more different and an outsider in Almyra #GW Claude is just swept along and molded to fit the story as needed and not allowed to be his own character properly #even though VW and SS were practically the same thing Claude was still Claude you know? #this just feels like they didn't know what to do with Claude bc they wanted to try something new with him #like since they didn't get to utilize a less casual/relaxed Claude in Houses they did it in Hopes #they didn't get to make him as cynical as they wanted to... and so they did it in Hopes. they just... went overboard and didn't do it right? #bc I can easily see Claude being more cynical and stuff /to the right people and to his enemies/ #which would mean in a direct way Thales and co and the Empire/Edelgard. not Faerghus just minding their business #As a Lorenz fan I ate like a god in this route. As a Claude fan... I lost about 180 years on my life from his 180!

[afpwestcoast]

Meow Wolf, Santa Fe, NM, 5/28/23

First a little background. 

My peers have boats, or cabins in the mountains, or college funds for their kids. I spend a good chunk of my disposable income flying around the country (and sometimes the world) seeing Amanda Palmer / Dresden Dolls shows. My happy place is a 3’x3’ square next to the stage.

During these shows I am transported. Nothing exists except for me and Amanda and Brian and the music. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve talked to people after shows and they complained about someone in the crowd or commented on something that happened off stage and I am oblivious. The music moves through me; it is the closest thing to a religious experience that I will ever have. 

Now I know I get drunk and can be … exuberant. But my (perhaps self-serving) rationalization has always been that this was essentially my version of the Brigade: Come to a Dresden Dolls show and see people on stilts! Living statues! And some guy in the front row losing his fucking mind!

I was a part of the show, a piece of the puzzle. Not an important piece; probably a solid pale blue piece that is part of the sky in the upper left. But I belonged; I fit. No one would look at me and go, “What the fuck is that guy doing here?”

After the recent shows in Woodstock I got an eMail from Team AFP saying that there had been complaints about my behavior. They didn’t say who complained, so I couldn’t make amends to anyone, and they didn’t say what the complaint was, so I couldn’t adjust my behavior accordingly. I jokingly told people I was on double-secret probation, but this masked a general anxiety that I had detracted from a community that I loved. 

And so. Santa Fe. May 28th, 2023. 

Right off the bat - the very first song - Amanda yelled at me for looking at my phone. I was, of course, making notes for this very blog, but whatever. This, in and of itself, was not a problem. It wasn’t even the first time Amanda had admonished me from stage for this very thing. 

And I know why she did it. Her thinking was that she could make a general point about concert etiquette by “attacking” (I did not feel attacked) a safe, known target: me. Normally I take this as the badge of honor that I’m sure is intended, but this night I was already in a defensive posture, felt my behavior was under scrutiny, and that I was being unfairly called out for behavior that was not objectionable. I was not staring at my phone through the entire set; I was making a quick note. 

And to be clear, the interaction with Amanda was in no way the problem. We trade barbs back and forth during shows on the regular and it is quite honestly one of my favorite things. The problem was that because of my insecurity and defensiveness I pushed it a little too far and began to hear murmurings from the crowd around me, and this … broke my brain. 

Suddenly I was no longer a piece that fit anymore. I was a fat old man in a ridiculous outfit making a fool of myself in front of some of the most important people in my life. 

To the extent that I could think my only thought was: Don’t be a distraction. I was so terrified of making it worse that I just … froze. 

Typically I flail around and scream the lyrics in a manner that makes whirling dervishes go, “Whoa tap the brakes, dude.” But I just stood there staring at the amp at the back of the stage, barely mouthing the words. 

I did manage to record the set list and snap a few pix mostly out of pure muscle memory, I think, but for the most part I don’t remember the show at all. 

In the moment I was utterly baffled. I had no idea what was happening. After several days of post-show analysis and soul searching I figured it out: I had a panic attack, the first in my life. And while it was an awful experience, knowing what had happened was very helpful. 

Weirdly, pretty much the only people who had a clue as to what was going on were Brian and Amanda. While taking their bows at the end of the show they both went out of their way to connect with me. Brian jostled my bowler and Amanda kissed me on both cheeks. In the immediate aftermath I was petrified that I was now an outcast, but after figuring out that it was “just” a panic attack these kind gestures from the band reassured me that all was well.

So now what? This is new territory for me. I’ve never had to deal with anxiety before, but I now realize with the benefit of 20/20 hindsight that a lot of things I’ve been thinking and feeling since COVID are related to anxiety. Coming from a generation in which men are supposed to be completely independent and self-reliant the realization that I can be brought low by something as trivial as “feelings” could threaten to shatter my identity and sense of self-worth. But it won’t.

For going on 20 years now I have been immersed in a community that is accepting of all sorts of divergences. I always thought that this was a nice feature, sure, but totally irrelevant to me, personally. I have met so many people who struggle with all sorts of serious mental health challenges on a daily basis, and yet are warm and kind and achieve amazing feats of creativity. All I have to do is look around the crowd at a Dresden Dolls show to see multiple role models of bravery and accomplishment in the face of mental illness. It won’t be easy and I have a lot to work through, but I know it can be done because I have friends who do it all the time.

I am writing this after the first of three shows in Orlando. Before the show I was nervous (anxious, even) about how things would go and whether I could get back in The Zone. But once again I was transported by the music and was my old, exuberant flailing self. And while this doesn’t mean that everything is back to “normal” (whatever the fuck that means) it does give me confidence that the challenges ahead are not insurmountable.

Annotated Set List:

Typically when something notable happens during a show I jot down a quick (SO AS NOT TO BE A DISTRACTION BY LOOKING AT MY PHONE), often cryptic note to jog my memory whilst doing my write up the next day. But, as explained above, I basically have no idea what happened and so these notes (which I amazingly still took) mean nothing to me, so I am including them mostly as written so that we can all be confused together.

Good Day (featuring Brian on guitar to start) - Amanda yelled at me to get off my phone

Sex Changes 

Gravity 

Backstabber

My Alcoholic Friends - Throw glass

Welcome to the Internet (Bo Burnham cover)

Bad Habit

Missed Me

Amsterdam (Jacques Brel cover)

Brian’s thumb is falling off. 

The Dresden Dolls do not fuck around. Why the fuck am I doing this? This music is the functional equivalent of rescuing a child from a well.

Astronaut

Mrs. O

Music does something that you can’t explain without listening to music.

Whakenewha (pronounced Fuckin-A-Fa)

War Pigs (intro) - Wait, wait I need a moment

War Pigs (Black Sabbath cover) - Start slow

——

Merch commercial

Coin-Operated Boy

Half Jack

——

Girl Anachronism

Photo Gallery:

[originemesis]

@kugel-bitch xxx

She balks a touch at that last bit; the insinuation that her peppery mien may convey an air of insubordination, and after thinking about it for all of five seconds, she decides that he is right. She does have a tendency to let her temper rope her into unseemly behaviors. So, Lute adjusts her carriage, leans back, wills the tension out of her shoulders and reassess the propriety of the words she is about to say; quickly, seamlessly, like a finely tuned machine. "Well—" Looking down at her hands, she touches the heels of her palms together so that her fingers form less of an assertive trigon and more of a deferential anjari mudra. "—I am only suggesting, sir, that it might not be unwise to take some precautionary measures to minimize casualties on our end in the event that we are met with greater push back from the infernal rabble than we have accounted for." There comes a pause and she straightens her posture just a touch. "We have stuck tightly to our schedule for as long as most of the miserable vermin still clinging to life down there will remember. They will be expecting us on the eve of the thirty-first of May. I would like to propose that we strike a day early. Catch them off their guard. We focus down their most prominent bastions; The V tower, the Carmine weapons manufacturing facility, the Hazbin hotel and we eradicate any sliver of hope they had of preserving their filthy hides."

He's mostly content to let her fire away at whatever imaginary targets are before her attracting her ire- mostly because it's amusing if not a tad endearing to see bitches squabble and tear each other apart. That was why he hadn't even touched little Miss Vajayjay back during her blasphemous bleeding heart episode because frankly- he didn't have to with the other girls in the bunch ready to pick up on the scent of betrayal and swarm it accordingly- with talons turned in to tear it out of their flock before it could fester and spread to the rest. Also, something about watching chicks tear each other apart was kinda hot- he wouldn't deny it. So when he noted her hesitation with his idle musings implying she was flying a bit too high for her position where the sun might start to melt her wings into more gold he could smelt onto his own if she kept soaring, well...it earned a soft snort on his part as she seemed to start seeing him again for what he was through the fit of her mounting fury over the whole affair- a general...with the general tendency to dirty up her plotting space with his snack and beverage wrappers.

"Greater push back? Well DUH...you saw the look that bitch gave me right? Hilariously worked up. Futile as fuck- but worked up all the same." Shifting so that the bottoms of his robes spilled over the desk's edge as he swung around to sit facing her in her chair, he made a game of brandishing his talons into open claws that he slowly began to close in towards her steepled hands like a carnivorous plant slowly clamping shut. "That's right where we want'em to be! Angry instead of accepting...more prone to making mistakes. Not to mention ~ " Pausing right before he'd claim her hands with the sharp ends of his nails, he allowed them to relax and pulled them back just enough to copy the steepled look himself which he followed up by letting them fall like an axe to bonk hers like some kind of hand shake he'd expect her to recognize later and do back. "-we could use a bit more entertainment after the same old-same old every year, don'tcha think~?"

Though he had to admit, her idea did sound like it could add an extra layer to the current chaos pie. "Hmm? So like- ambush the fuckers? Now there's an idea." Rubbing slightly under his chin as he pondered on it some more, he laughed after a moment and very swiftly scooted a wing behind her chair to scoot both her and her rolly-perch in closer like the proximity was needed to share a secret, though he was all but speaking in hushed tones. "Glad I thought of it! See, that's why you're top bitch around here. Super inspiring ~ just like a lute. Don't I know how to call'em?"

#// bbkbl;sd- #//so sorry he's like this lmao #kugel-bitch #//im picking up on the joke that adam was allowed to name everything basically fft #long post

[shoutogepi]

Catboy!Shouto

Todoroki Shouto

word count : ~2K (blurb!)

[ ☀︎ ]  fluff!! 

bio : general catboy!sho hc’s. initial meeting all the way to relationship.

author’s note : a midnight hc that got WAY out of hand. fair warning idk what the fUCK this is, whatever it is is all astrid’s fault. i decided to make this bc i suck at finding fics and i rly wanted to read something about a snuggly catboy!sho.

   ─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

in my opinion, shouto is already very catlike in certain respects.

he’s aloof and likes to watch rather than engage. he’s very intelligent and he’s driven when he wants to be. and not to mention he’s very loyal to those few that have melted through his ice-protected heart. he’ll probably also only allow physical interaction if he’s the one initiating it... 

you didn’t adopt him in human form. at some point you got a cat and you thought that was it— that it was merely a cat. a cute one at that, split down the middle like a patched together hand-me-down. he reminded you of a ragdoll because of his peculiar colors, even though his coat was sleek and shiny. he also had a very prominent air of elegance... overall, a very pretty cat.

however, he wasn’t the nicest animal at first. he was skittish and guarded. he really only interacted with you in order to get food and water, and he didn’t allow you to touch him all too much. any time you had friends over there was no chance he’d be spotted, always hiding in the shadows of your closet or the safe space underneath your bed. when your company would leave, he would slowly crawl out, watching you from a respectable distance as you tidied up before heading to bed.

even though he was kind of a dick, you spoiled him silly. you bought him his own bed since he refused to even go near you. he had his own cat tree and everything, and ample toys too. that was how he first began warming up to you. 

you had managed to pique his interest by dragging a ribbon toy across the floor and disappearing around the doorframe. you had been over the moon when he had poked his little head into the room, pupils wide as he eyed the ribbon with intense curiosity.

the morning after that, you had awoken to find him sitting on the very far corner of your bed. it was as far as he could possibly be from you while staying on the mattress, but you were elated nonetheless.

— - —

from then on, your relationship was a little steadier with the feline. he would follow you around your place, always in the same room as you but forever out of reach. occasionally he would allow you to give him a little scratch behind the ear or under the chin, but he would get up and leave after a few seconds of affection.

it wasn’t until he came down with a minor kitty cold that your relationship changed. you took him to the vet. he hated it. he was such a misbehaved boy, but when you had nearly cried as you frantically apologized for his behavior, he strangely became limp, a disgruntled expression on his cute little face.

you took him home and attempted to administer the medicine, even if he hissed and growled at you when you approached him with the distinct vial. you tried to give it to him, and he lashed out and scratched you for the very first time.

it was just a little cut, but it was enough to draw blood. you left the medicine with him and closed yourself away in the bathroom as you tended to your wound, irritated that after all you’d done for him he still treated you like shit. but he was a cat, you reckoned, and so you instantly dropped any malice that had come forth in those few minutes. when you opened the door again, he was sitting at the doorway, ears flat to his head and head lowered, the medicine vial resting before his paws.

after that he allowed you to administer the medicine without complaint. he just layed there and would blink lazily at you while you moved him accordingly, never fussing at all. it was clear that he was sick initially, but each time you gave him that medicine he became more and more like himself. he looked strong and healthy once again. you were relieved.

your relationship kept improving. he would now let you pet him from time to time. sometimes he would even jump up and settle himself into a little loaf next to you as you watched TV or typed away at your laptop. he began sleeping closer to you, sometimes on your feet, sometimes on the vacant side of your bed. the sound of his low purrs lulled you to sleep.

things started getting strange when you started going out with someone you had met. you’d given your number to them when they’d asked for it out of the blue. it was all very innocent, nothing too crazy. just a coffee here and there, really.

that was when shouto started becoming more affectionate with you. he would let out a loud meow in greeting when you came home, running to the door to meet you and promptly sticking his head into the shoes you slipped off your feet. he would sit with you as you went through the work you brought home, even nuzzle your ankles while you made yourself dinner. he would start to sit on your lap when you were watching the television.

he would even let you kiss his head , and he’d slowly blink at you when you praised him for all his handsomeness, for how good of a boy he was. he even started slipping into the sheets with you, allowing you to hold him close as you drifted off into slumber, and kneading at your blankets as the two of you fell asleep together.

but coffees turned into lunches. and lunches to dinners. you started spending less and less time at your place, and he would find himself watching the clock on the wall as he waited for your return. though when you finally would, later and later with each passing date, he was not pleased to find your scent mixed with another’s.

he had stayed in cat form for a very long time. perhaps he shifted into human form when you weren’t home, you didn’t know. you thought he was your cat, and that was the end of it. all you knew was that one morning, you woke up, expecting to have your snuggly companion curled up into your side as usual.

instead, there’s a whole ass MAN tucked into the sheets beside you, long leg slung over yours and his arm wound round your waist. what’s even wilder is that two cat ears stick out of the silky hair on his head, colored the distinct red and white of the fur you have become so accustomed to. a long, furry tail also rests on your thigh, brushing against your skin.

he’s also butt ass naked.

to say you’re shook is an understatement. thankfully he’s laying on his stomach, so you don’t see anything indecent. you weigh your options here— this man is so obviously your cat, there’s no way he’s not. but you have a cat, and this is a man!! man-cat? you can’t care to know the correct terminology.

you decide not to scream, but you shuffle backwards. it’s enough to disturb the creature, and his heterochromatic eyes peel open slowly. he sees you looking at him, and still weighed down by sleep, a mild, content smile curls his lips and a loud purr rumbles out of him. then his eyes move down and he catches sight of his own arm around you, and he scrambles off the bed, ears tucked back and tail bristling as he trips over the sheets.

after you find some clothes for him to wear, you have a rather awkward conversation over breakfast. turns out that he’s been capable of turning into this human form the whole time, but he had become accustomed to life as a cat and preferred it to being a human, as he had a hard time fitting in with his big ears and long tail. you reckoned you, too, would live as a cat if you had the option... especially with such a doting and caring owner as yourself.

now though, you can’t really refer to yourself as his owner. he’s a person, just like you— he just harbors many of his cat-like qualities.

initially it’s hard to adjust, knowing he’s also a man (and a very handsome one, at that). you buy him some clothes and start to cook meals for the both of you. what else are you gonna do, throw him out onto the street?

your interactions become a little forced... you’re just really confused as to how you’re supposed to act around him. he seems to sense your unease, and he shifts back into a cat in order to comfort you. he walks right up to you and hops into your lap, standing up to put his front paws onto your chest, and leaning in to rub his cheek across yours, finishing off with a quick lick of affection.

apparently, he has missed the attention the both of you had become so accustomed to giving/receiving. so, the moment you hesitantly begin to rub his ears, he starts to purr loudly, settling on your lap/chest. he’s really warm and soft, so you end up wrapping your other arm around him and continuing to pet his head.

it becomes routine for you to have this nightly cuddle before bed, but after you’re finished with pretending to pay attention to the tv, you tell him goodnight and shut yourself into your bedroom for the night.

no longer does he receive your praise nor your kisses, and it’s taking a toll on him. he’s needy!! you’ve conditioned him to soak up all your love and now you just stop?

so eventually he’ll sack up and knock on your door, asking why you won’t let him sleep with you anymore. he knows you’re intimidated by his human form, but he thinks the reason is because you’re scared of him. you hesitantly let him know it’s really just because you’re attracted to him. and what do ya know, he feels the same.

another reason why you’d been avoiding him that you’d rather die than tell him is that you’re embarrassed that you just straight stared at him in shock when he used your toilet like a human. eye contact and everything. this was back when you’d first gotten him but now you’re just overwhelmed with residual embarrassment LOLLLLL anyways...

from there your love blossoms !! yay!

now he will walk around your place in his human form more often than cat form. though sometimes he does like to be in kitty form so he can sit on your lap while you’re working at your desk.

snuggles become a norm. he’s very affectionate. absolute cuddle bug. 

stressed? cuddles.

happy? cuddles.

bored? cuddles.

i cannot emphasize this enough!!! hold him!! he lives for it! he is baby.

he still loves playing with all the toys you buy him. and what’s hilarious is that he can’t seem to help himself from fixating on those little aluminum twist ties that you keep in the kitchen. he doesn’t know why, but when you toss them across the room he’ll just run for it. nyoom!!

makes sure to bring it back like a good boy every time.

a really good investment is a laser pointer. human or cat, once that little red dot is spotted, you can bet he’s chasing it. this has resulted in broken furniture more than once LOL. at the end of your little play session you guide the laser over to you and he’ll pounce on you!! cue more cuddles. 

as if all the snuggles he gives you through the day aren’t enough, falling asleep is complete bliss.

he’ll slip into your covers and wrap his long limbs around you. lithe fingers will caress your skin and your hair, and if you return the favor, he’ll start to purr softly for you. he’s totally into nuzzling you, too. he’ll just nestle his face right into your neck and breathe your scent in, completely at peace. and he can’t help it when his purrs grow louder, an indication of his complete content.

more rarely he’ll come out into public with you, provided he wear a beanie or something to cover those cute perky ears of his. the tail he can tuck into his pants just fine. when he’s out and about with you, he’ll likely stay right by your side, an arm over your shoulder, around your waist, or your hand held hostage by his.

when you’re out on these rare excursions, he will often ask for a boba or a latte—he loves to indulge in those sweet milky drinks every now and then. plus it makes him happy when you’re happy, and you always get excited when you get one for yourself too.

overall 10/10 would recommend adopting catboy!sho. he will give you all the love and snuggles necessary and he’ll be more than happy to accept your affections too. 

   ─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

.

.

so... can you guys tell i’m a cat person? 

(づ ｡◠ ‿ ◠｡ )づ <3 <3 <3

➥ masterlist  thanks for reading!! hope u enjoyed whatever... this was LOL 

𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐩𝐢 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟎. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

#todoroki shouto fluff #todoroki shoto fluff #todoroki shouto fic #todoroki shoto fic #mha fluff #mha fic #bnha fluff #bnha fic #bnha hc #mha hc #todoroki shouto hc #todoroki shoto hc #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #cat boy todoroki #cat boy shouto #my fics

[mejomonster]

i kind of genuinely want to write a vampire dmbj au just because (like a guardian crossover where immortals=mutants) it’s so easy to go okay immortals=vampires and then run with it.

which initially yeah, made me go okay xiaoge as a regular vampire with wu xie. what’s THAT look like (opposed to normal xiaoge... who is basically a reverse vampire, because instead of being the living dead he’s just Living forever, instead of sucking blood his blood physically repels monsters and also heals mortals like Wu Xie when he DRANK IT, and instead of loving his immortality he fucking hates it and is absolutely hellbent on killing every fucking immortal/monster he manages to run into when we first meet him ToT) 

but then i realized like. would hei xiazi Also be a vampire. oh man. xiao hua found himself an immortal but its the most insufferable fucking chaotic bastard you have EVER seen he’s using slang from every and any fucking era at a given time, keeps smiling, carries 100 pairs of sunglasses and keeps trying to sell them, technically can’t go in the sun but he’s got so many layers the fucker can slink around in the day if he’s GOTTA, but its still just like a sexy tanktop underneath the coats and he’s eager to strip and run for the nearest hottie once indoors if he’s not in the middle of a job, happy to work as a hired hitman and just like eat the people he got hired to kill (”hey i have to eat, i might as well get people to PAY me to eat uvu”), and once xiao hua started hiring him the guy started stashing coffins at all his homes and safe houses and every time xiao hua tries to throw them out, burn them, or sell them, more mysteriously appear until eventually he finds boxes of random stuff hei xiazi’s been selling too and xiao hua confronts the fucker but xiao hua only gets a couple minutes into it before he goes “WHO is hiring a masseuse off the street at 2 am???” and then hei xiazi starts with “so there’s prostitutes, then there’s-” and xiao hua tells him he doesn’t want to hear another damn word and that he can store his fucking coffins here if he promises no 2 am ‘masseuse’ gigs are taken for any durations of his stays. to which hei xiazi sidles up to him with too big of a grin mentioning ‘what about you~? i’m sure if you were looking for a massage~ we could do something about that~”. to which xiao hua hisses and mentions he doesn’t want some clammy cold dead hands touching his skin (”but i can warm them up first!”)

Vampire Xiaoge probably tried to kill Hei Xiazi the first time he ran into him. just because of the usual: xiaoge’s always intent on killing other immortal monster seeming fuckers. However that behavior stopped quick as Xiaoge got baffled by how well hei xiazi fit in with humans, with getting work and socializing, and now it just kind of irks xiaoge a little that he’s probably (?) been alive longer but absolutely still has no fucking idea how to blend in (nor does he want to). 

Debating if Xiaoge would be Extra-vampire since he’s the-most-immortal in dmbj usual canon, or if he’d be very odd man out like Blade and be a daywalker (which xiaoge’d probably prefer considering his canon typical urge to kill anything he thinks of as ‘monstrous or immortal like himself’). Either way, eventually xiaoge realizes he needs some stuff again and tries to get into working again. Immediately sees 2000s emo culture and thinks it looks cool and vibes with him personally, adjusts his style accordingly, then fucking takes forever to stop. So when him and hei xiazi DO meetup especially post 2010 they both look slightly out of time in a fashion awkward kind of way except at least Hei Xiazi looks like its from many eras, on purpose, and just makes him seem more like a human. Xiaoge thankfully is so inhumanly hot no one really is bothering to care if he looks like he fits in, except maybe some vampire hunters who prickle at how successful the bastard is.

is San Shu a vampire hunter cause that would be a Concept - even better, a vampire hunter who’s helped vampires and monsters on the down low, so of course when he accuses Xiaoge of murders He’s Committed himself he’s just barely got an actual angle to work with. would that... make wu xie part of a family of vampire hunters, and he’s the baby of the family who wants to be a hunter SO BAD but they won’t ever let him GO out and help because they want his life FAR AWAY from this monster stuff...

then tianzhen falls for. The Vampire. The one Most Often accused of a string of unknown murders done to humans and other vampires alike (and tbh xiaoge probably did some but i bet society just made him into the scapegoat so they can blame him when there’s other actual threats managing to skate by if they blame him - like oh San Shu for example >o>).  

And then of course Xiaoge does not intend to get connected to the world. to give a damn. to become ‘known’ to anybody, let alone someone so connected to the whole mess of monstrous things and the world that gets mixed up with them (Nine Families sure would be involved in that). But there he is, saving this naive fool’s life when the kid managed to push his way onto a hunt, and now Xiaoge is in the awkward position of very much wanting to meet again this cutie who is definitely tied up with the bastard who framed Xiaoge 20 years ago and is currently after the same shit Xiaoge’s been looking for. 

Pangzi, as usual, is badass and competent and good with explosives, a free agent, and has similar chaotic energy to Hei Xiazi except he ‘says’ he’s working with the hunters usually. But until he befriends Wu Xie fully, honestly he’d sell to the highest bidder monster or human, or kill either of them if its the best play for his own benefit. San Shu, and the Wu family in general, is not exactly pleased by Wu Xie’s new found family he is adamandly building up for himself. 

#dmbj #tlt #tlt2 #tlt3 #iron triangle #heihua #pingxie #xiaoge #wu xie #pangzi #xiao hua #hei xiazi #headcanon #writing #@humanlighthouse #@jaecomments

[markleesthighs]

Hotel! AU With Lucas~?? 👉👈

-idk what you meant by hotel, but umm manager lucas makes me think, so like crazy rich!y/n x hotel manager! lucas

[7:27 PM] Your finally got off your long plane ride, landing in Seoul. Your sister was getting married to her longtime boyfriend, which was a wedding the talk of all of Seoul. Your sister was an actress and her boyfriend was a famous director, both winning oscars overseas. You, on the other hand was a world class fashion icon, showing up at multiple fashion weeks and constantly having high class brands beg for your to wear their pieces. It would be no shock that once you stepped off your family’s private jet, there was paparazzi active, asking who you were wearing and what you were planning on wearing to the wedding. Your sisters wedding was in one of the most exclusive and expensive hotels in all of Seoul, and they rented out the entire hotel for its guests. Your limo pulled up to the gates where you stated your name and verified your identification to let the guards open the gates. As you pulled up a handsome man who opened the limo door for you and held your hand. You felt some sort of warmth to his touch and his eyes made your heart melt. You hadn’t felt this way about someone since your ex boyfriend 2 years ago. What were you thinking? Someone like you? Dating someone like him? It would be the end of the world for the both of you. You looked down at his name tag as it read “Lucas” An interesting name you thought.

“Hello I am Lucas, the manager of the hotel, let us help you with your luggage and any accommodations you will need.” He said as he graciously held your purse for you.

“Thank you.”

You walked into the hotel to be greeted with your sister squealing bringing you into a hug. You hugged her fiancé as you caught up with her while Lucas checked you in.

“Miss y/n, you are checked in for the presidential suite at the top floor, let me also show you to your room and give you the tour.”

“T-thank you”

You sister noticed your stutter, something that generally can back when you were flustered or around someone you liked. She gave you a smirk and winked as you rolled your eyes and glared at her, hoping Lucas didn’t see.

You walked into an elevator with only you and Lucas as it was dead silent. You looked at him looking at his fashion choices, which you generally judged people on. He had Cartier studs, a perfectly fitted Hermès suit, a shiny new Rolex, and shiny Gucci loafers. He had good taste you thought to yourself. As the elevator door opened you tripped on elevator crack with your heel as he caught you hold you firmly and supporting you.

“Are you alright? You must be more careful when stepping off with such beautiful Louboutin shoes, I wouldn’t want to scuff those.”

You were starstruck, he smelled like Versace cologne and it mixed beautifully with your Chanel No. 5 perfume as you saw he also took a liking to your perfume. He helped you stand back up with his arm now supporting you as you both strolled to your room. You noticed that Lucas was still taller than you with your heels on which was rare since most guys wouldn’t dare approach you with your reflective sunglasses and intimidating behavior. Lucas unlocked and opened the door to one of the most luxurious hotel rooms you’ve seen. You’ve traveled and stayed at expensive hotels overseas but nothing compared to this suite. It smelled like fresh cotton and flowers, and everything was perfectly polished and cleaned. You were marveled, you would usually have at least a complaint by now but you were left speachless. Your clothes were already placed in the closet, color coded perfectly. All of your skincare and makeup of beautifully organized on the sink and vanity.

“Is everything up to your standards, miss y/n?.”

“Y-yes...h-how did.”

“We consulted your assistants, butlers, and maids overseas about your standards and wanted to make sure they were followed accordingly.”

You looked over at the vase of violets.

“How did you know violets were my favorite?”

“I didn’t. I always think violets have a calming scent and look, that can make any place feel like home.” He said with a smile.

“If theres anything else we can do for you, you can give us a call on the phones or use the PA systems located around your room. Enjoy your stay. “

As he walked out you took a look around your room, hoping to find a complaint (to see Lucas again) but you had none. You even noticed your bed was folded perfectly so a flap would be open on the side of the bed you slept on. As you sat down you got a call from your sister who was begging you to come down to the hotel’s restaurant to go have dinner with her and her fiancé, to catch up and go over last minute wedding decorations (since you had one of the most detailed eyes in the world). You agreed as you changed into a Dior sundress, Hermès sandals, and a Prada clutch. You opened the elevator to the entrance of the restaurant where your sister was exitedly waving you down at their table.

“It’s so lovely to see you again, I love that dress!”

“Thanks, it’s from Dior’s 2021 spring line.”

“2021?? Darling that’s a year away how did you get your hands on this piece?”

“I didn’t most brands send me their upcoming lines to see if it meet my approval and will curve with current fashion trends.”

“You never fail to amaze me, y/n.”

As you were about to speak a waiter came by and dropped off some warm green tea for you. It was your signature drink, so it wasn’t a long shot, until you took a sip. It was made to your liking. It was seeped from the Da-Hong Pao brand with a teaspoon of Elvish honey. They even got the temperature exactly right, at 175 degrees. You suspected Lucas. He made everything perfect for you, it was nice, but you assumed he did that for all of his guests. You all continued to talk over dinner, creating conversations from cute dogs on Instagram to which way bridesmaids should present themselves at the wedding. After dinner you all transitioned to the grand ballroom, the main stage for the wedding. Your sister was nervously twiddled her fingers as you gazed at the decor. Lucas came in short after following you around taking notes, hanging on your every word.

“These flowers aren’t fresh replace all of them by tomorrow, make sure all of the silverware is perfectly straight next to the plate, turn the centerpieces by 35 degrees so the lights hit them better, the goody bag bags look tacky, replace them with Louis Vultton bags and put in Louis Vultton, Gucci, and Channel accessories, with each bag with different ones so they never match.”

“B-but, y/n, we can’t possibly purchase that in time!”

“Don’t worry sis, Lucas please charge any additional items that I’ve adjusted onto my card.”

“y/n please! You’re our guest!”

“Stop it. What else am I going to blow with all money? It’s worth it for your wedding.”

You handed Lucas your card as he wrote down your information. You continued on your purge to the point where your sister and fiancé got tired and went up to their room exhausted and they definitely needed some rest. So now it was just you and Lucas in the ballroom, alone.

“Miss, y/n, I know you want everything to be perfect for your sisters wedding, but I think you’re beating a dead horse at this point. “

“I am not!”

“Do you really think moving the chair in by one centimeter it really necessary?”

You sighed as you looked at your sandals.

“No, it’s not.”

“Why are you so punctual about this, miss y/n, if you don’t mind me asking.”

“It’s cause, this, was supposed to be my wedding. I was engaged two years ago, to a man who only wanted me for my money. I had all the wedding planning set until I was informed he was trying to sell my stocks and take everything from my bank account and runaway with some other famous B lister model. So once I heard my sister was getting married, I let her have my wedding plans. So now, I’m being overly punctual, since I know I would be like this on my wedding day.”

“Well, sometimes imperfect things allow the world to let it be perfect in ways you’ve never known. If this were my wedding, I wouldn’t care how lavish or perfect it was, as long as I was marrying someone I loved.”

Lucas’ words resonated into your mind, maybe you needed to let things be imperfect, even for your sister.

“So be it then, I’m done ‘perfecting’ for the night. Afterall, it’s not my wedding.”

As you walked out Lucas called out your name, and asking for your number. You hesitated asking him why and he said to discuss any issues that occur on the day of the wedding so he can contact you and discuss any certain changes. Right, he wasn’t trying to hit on you, why would he want to, he probably has a girlfriend or something right? You gave him your number and you walked into the elevator back to your room. You fantasized what it would be like to date him, going out on lavish dates, not worrying about who was going to pay for the check, and you felt that you would have a fun time with him. You took your shower and came out of the bathroom to see that you’re missing your roller from your skincare routine. You called Lucas up in your robe and wet hair to ask him for your cold Jade roller you used to smoothen and contour your face. He brought it up and gave it to you. But as he left, you grabbed his arm and asked him to roll your face for you, since your maids would do it for you. He chuckled as he submit to your request sitting down on your bed with you as you watched him gently roll your face. His eyes looked so delicate carefully not trying to put too much pressure on your face. You felt your heart beating faster every time you were around him, he was unpredictable to you and he was never intimidated by you either. You had never been able to open up to someone as easily as him.

When he was finished you noticed it started to thunderstorm, which worried you, since you had a secret fear of thunder and lightning. Lucas looked at you and gently caressed your face, making sure everything rolled correctly. But as he was about to get up a loud clash of the lightning struck and you squeaked as you fell into his arms holding on to him tight.

“P-please, d-don’t leave yet...”

Lucas looked at you in sympathy but got up leaving you in the dust. You were disappointed, knowing things like this would happen, even if you did like him. Who would even want to date- But Lucas returned dressed in his comfortable clothes which he received from the cleaning maids on your floor. He quickly came back to your shivering state hearing another clash of thunder. Lucas pulled you into a cuddling embrace in your bed. He also came back with some Airpods and played your favorite music to drown out the noise of the storm. You soon fell asleep on his chest, feeling warm and safe in his arms.

-pt. 2?? wedding day?

#nct #nct 127 #nct imagine #nct mark #nct fluff #nct incorrect #nct incorrect quotes #nct incorrect texts #nct angst #nct smut #nct scenarios #nct lucas #wavy #wayv lucas #lucas wong #nct lucas fluff #nct!rich #nct u #nct imagines #nct x reader #nct lucas imagines #nct lucas angst #wayv imagines #wayv fluff #wayv angst #wayv incorrect texts

[efrmellifer]

Sal-acious

Ten: Heady

...I did it again, yeah. (NS.FW)

Etien kicked off her boots before she elbowed the door shut behind her, so there was no chance she was going to scuff the heavy wood. It was one of Aymeric’s few requests of her—in the sense of him asking her to break habits and change her behavior, that is. He was aware he had requested much of her in the years they had known each other. Out of love, out of respect, she did it. The door clicked shut, and she slipped her satchel over her head, hefting the prize out of it.

“Aymeric! I got more salt like you asked!”

From deep within the house, he responded, “Pardon?”

With a low, slightly inconvenienced (but also slightly enamored) growl, Etien moved toward the kitchen, repeating like she’d been asked to. “Salt, darling!”

With a final thud, she put down the salt crystal, letting Aymeric get a good look at it. But he was too busy getting a look at her.

He had forgotten, in the interim where she had taken a break from mining in these clothes, and then from mining at all, how revealing the cut of her gear was. Or at least, her top. Surely, she wore the upper half of the jumpsuit closed when she was walking through Ishgard, but he could only imagine that in the Diadem, she wore it just like this, her beautiful shoulders displayed, and the sweat she worked up trickling between her breasts, the track of it visible from how open her shirt was, leaving salt on her skin—that’s right, the salt.

“I doubt we’ll need more for moons, with this much,” he remarked. She beamed. “The only problem is that I also doubt that will fit in my grinder.”

An understatement, one on the scale of ‘Dragons remember things for a while.’

“Do you need me to chip it up?”

“I can put it on the table tonight, and tomorrow, you can chip it. How about that?”

“Works for me,” she replied. She pointed at the food, still cooking away. “Should that be ready soon?”

“As soon as you have returned from changing your clothes, which I assume is what you’re about to do.”

She nodded, smiling. “Want me to wear anything special?”

He looked her over briefly, contemplating whether he could get away with ‘nothing, wear nothing,’ but decided not to try, just giving a pleasant shake of the head.

Etien came to the dining room and sat down, now in a simple wool dress, While she waited, she adjusted the salt, moving it around the table as if she couldn’t find a good place for it. She looked up when Aymeric came in and joined her, the both of them waiting for the dishes to be brought out.

Now she finally got to see what he had been wearing underneath the apron that had protected it while he was cooking. It was simple as well, a rich green shirt that looked excellent on him. The sleeves weren’t rolled up anymore, though. They had been before, giving her a good look at his arms.

“You look nice,” they both said, only a beat of a breath between when they had started speaking. Another beat passed, and then they both laughed.

“Thank you,” Etien replied, blinking slowly.

“And thank you. If I had known you were going to wear something like that, I would have dressed differently.”

Etien leaned across the table to lay her hand on Aymeric’s. “I would have asked you to put on something like what you’re wearing. It looks good, really. I like it a lot.”

Trying not to get too fluffed up by that, he settled into his chair, sipping at his wine. “Why, thank you…again.”

She giggled. “I’m only telling you what I see.”

Dinner passed placidly, uneventfully, until Aymeric decided that he needed a little salt. He was still in the habit of the salt rock here at home, and occasionally brought a small one with him when he had the chance to travel elsewhere, but he only used it if he got to share it with Etien. If he was by himself, he would just do as his hosts did, often using the usual, smaller Gyr Abanian crystals set out on the table in a grinder, or even fine salt in a shaker if one was made available to him (as was common with sea salt).

But he was not abroad; he was happily at home, so he leaned over to the massive rock on the table, unsure if this was less polite or if lifting it would have been. Either way, he opened his mouth and readied his tongue, then looked up at the breathy sound across the table. When he did, he found Etien sitting there, cheeks turning pink and eyes averted.

“Etien?”

“Ignore me. Get your salt, please.”

“I could never ignore you,” Aymeric said with a little laugh. “Especially not now. Is something the matter?”

She shook her head. “Really, it’s fine.”

He rose from his seat and came to her side of the table, gait almost like a treasured pet coming to its owner’s side to get a treat. It certainly would be a treat, if he got to do what he had a mind to now. And he would taste something much better than rock salt.

He stroked her cheek with the side of his index finger, tracing the soft swell of her skin. “Etien. You do not need to deny your wants here.”

“I was thinking of other places that tongue could go besides the salt rock.”

“Oh?” his eyebrows lifted.

She nodded. “If,” she smiled as she repeated words back to him that he commonly said to her, “you are amenable.”

He pushed aside her plate and her glass, clearing a spot on the table and lifting her to sit in that space.

“Nooo,” she protested. “The table?”

“I am going to use it for its intended purpose,” he said simply, “eating.”

He balled her skirt up under his hands, letting the feathery touches of his fingers through the fabric start to build the tension. When he pushed Etien’s skirt the rest of the way back, letting it pool around her hips, he trailed his hands down her thighs, nothing in the way now.

She sighed, the breath coming out shaky. “Do that again.”

Slowly, Aymeric dragged his fingers up the outside and down the top of her thighs again. Now Etien shivered, delighted.

He came to a knee then, palms flat on the table to stay steady as he maneuvered to fully kneeling. For a moment, he rested his chin on her knee to admire her some more, then set to his task, hands journeying up her legs again, this time all the way to her hips to remove her underthings.

She pressed on the table to lift herself up, and the garment was gone, tucked away in a pocket so it didn’t get left in the dining room and discovered at the most inopportune moment.

With a little gasp, Aymeric rose, pushing Etien’s chair against the dining room doors. “That ought to buy is the second we need to pull your skirt down if, Fury forbid, we need.”

She snorted, but couldn’t argue with sound planning.

He returned to his knees between hers, open for him, and didn’t waste another second.

He scooted closer to the table with each kiss he placed on her inner thighs, rubbing the outer edges of them until Etien giggled and squirmed. Just one delightful sound on a list he intended to hear before he was done here.

Aymeric took in a deep breath, half trying to set a rhythm of his breathing so he wasn’t huffing too hard against Etien’s sensitive skin, and half to take in the even now heady scent of her, the mix of her arousal with her usual sweet-and-floral scent.

Then he set to, and she sighed, legs lifting with the pleasure of it.

“Already?” he murmured half-into her.

“You’re good at what you do,” she replied, trying to relax her legs and catch her breath before she lost it completely.

He laid his hand over hers, gripping the table so tightly he was worried she would manage to dig her nails into the wood, and she settled a touch.

The other hand, Etien splayed out behind her, careful not to knock anything over, and she canted her hips for a better angle. Aymeric responded immediately, and they both moaned into the action.

In tandem again, then.

When Etien’s breaths started to come heavy at the end of an exhale, Aymeric knew things were coming to an end, and accordingly, he kept her steady, both in the sense of intense attention to the ways and places in which she would most easily unravel, and with his arm coming around her back now, not to press her closer, but to be sure she would lean forward when she came down, and not backwards.

Like clockwork—and what a pretty cuckoo, crying “Oh, Aymeric, yes”—she reached the apex, a heavy, heavy sigh the signal she was finished. For now, anyhow. There was a good chance later, he knew, as he watched her eyelashes meet her rosy cheeks, that she would gently insist on equity in their pleasure. But for now, she needed to breathe. So he slipped her from the table and carried her to sit in his lap when he sat down again, and they finished their dinner.

He couldn’t let all their work go to waste, after all.

Well… perhaps in the morning, they would enjoy what he’d made for dessert. There were other plans for that course now.

#ffxivwrite2021 #ffxivwrite #fic #Aytien #nsft

[lovedaisy02]

Ode to Azula My Tragic Best Girl

Ok. I've had thrown downs over Azula as a character

As an Azula fan I don't necessarily want everyone to love her (although in the words of Ty Lee THEY SHOULD) but any human with cognitive function must understand that she is a great character.

To start, a lot of people write Azula off as a sociopath which is incorrect. Azula is as cut and dry nor as complicated. She's misguided and overconfident. She has known one way to live all her life and when that is taken she snaps. It's as simple as that fact. She shows remorse and love and the want for love but her reinforced belief in her entitlement and the only way of getting anything through manipulation leads to her character which is explored during the Beach episode when she attempts to act "normal" showcasing that she was never given the tools to properly socialize with anyone. She is sheltered and has been exposed to strict routine all her life combined with the sense of entitlement that she should never have to ask for anything and that forcing others is natural and what should be done in order to get what she wants. Not to mention the 14 year old angst.

ALSO Zuko burned down Suki's village, attacked the south and used his own form of fit throwing as a spoiled royal. This is WITHOUT Ozai's tutelage or attention. If Zuko actually got time with Ozai it would take a long time to get him back on the right path.

I think it's super important to remember that Ozai basically ignored Zuko. While this turns into a form of abuse and pain for Zuko in the end it turns into his favor. When Zuko confronts his father he tells him he learned what the world is really like outside of their influence and what a great lie it was to tell the Fire Nation invaded to share their wealth and prosperity. It took his uncle and traveling the world for him to realize. Until then he truly believed in his Nation. He even says he was never angry at his father. He takes it all on himself and actually believes speaking out and being punished were acceptable and it was all his fault. Azula unfortunately has Ozai's direct attention and tutelage. The only experience she has with her mother is negative and on top of that Zuko is still the crowned prince and next in line. Despite how his father ignores him he holds more respect than Azula and after he returns he resumes his time as the heir. This must have been a serious sore spot because not only does he get treated with kid gloves but holds things she probably feels he doesn't deserve. Something I realized after rewatching the show for the 7th time since it's on Netflix is that Ozai doesn't actually hate Zuko. He just wants Zuko to be like himself. Evident how Ozai sent Azula after Iroh and Zuko saying "your uncle is a traitor. Your brother a failure." He never calls Zuko a traitor or puts him in prison he just wants to abuse him and change his nature. Zuko also mentions to Mai "I was the son my father wanted. But I wasn't me" proving Ozai just wishes he were manipulative and cutthroat. On top of that stressor she surely buys into the same exact lie about their Nation and sees firsthand what disappointing their father looks like she takes this in and adjusts her behavior accordingly beginning to slip at the end complaining to Ozai about not going along until he snaps at her and she remembers to hold her tongue around him. Further it is important to note she is happy to have Zuko back as still beneath her and spinning his wheels for her to tease him but at home and is relaxed with her friends. When Zuko leaves not only of his own will this time but then she is betrayed by her only friends her world view is shattered. At 14 the world as she knows it is spinning out of her control. Things she used to be able to manipulate are not (Mai, ty Lee, and Zuko) on top of that her father brushes her to the side and she is alone. That caused enough of a mental break and all her insecurities to surface. Honestly I could talk about this for days because it is pure genius how the entire story is told and her character is developed. It is so overwhelming awesome and I love it so much I've analysed every scene she is in I'm honestly so obsessed

#princess azula #atla zuko #azula #azula is a lesbian #not related but its true #Azula #she is my everything #analysis #atla #avatar the last airbender

[sellyoursoulforagoodfic]

Mercenary Chapter 7

Maul x reader

Word Count: 1849

Summary: So Qi’ra exists, and you’re not happy about it.

“Dryden Vos is coming tomorrow to introduce us to his new pet,” Maul informed you as soon as he came storming out of the room that housed his holocom.

Earlier that morning, it had been the incessant ringing of that exact holocom that woke the two of you from a peaceful slumber. It was housed in the room immediately next to your bedroom so no one would be able to eavesdrop without having to go through your private quarters. And no one would live through trying to do that. So already, neither of you was in a good mood.

“Why is his pet our problem?” you complained from your place still lounging on the (admittedly luxurious) bed. Making the bedroom as nice as possible was your top priority after security after returning to the fortress on Dathomir. You were not blind enough to miss the way Maul’s eyes trailed up your form, clearly liking the sight of you lying partially exposed on the blood red, satin sheets.

“Apparently, he sees a future for her. He’s been training her in combat, and she’s proven to be quite bloodthirsty.”

“She’s using him,” you deadpanned. “I know her type. She’ll use him for power until she gets the chance to get rid of him; then she’ll kill him.”

“Which is precisely what I said, but he argued that I haven’t met her so I couldn’t know that. According to him, she is a ‘dancer’ while fighting.”

You giggled a little at the way he rolled his eyes while quoting Dryden. “That doesn’t mean she’s not going to kill him one day.”

“If Dryden is that fooled by her, he deserves his fate. We do not have room in this organization for such idiotic behavior.”

“He wouldn’t be the first to have his brain sucked out through his dick by a woman.”

The zabrak raised a brow. “Are you trying to tell me something?”

“Yes, I’ve been fucking you for years just to take your place at the head of an organization that I helped you build.”

“Except you fell for my sparkling personality in the process, and hoped that I’d never find out about your original plan, right?”

“Oh, exactly,” you grinned. “Come here,” you demanded, reaching a hand out towards him.

Entertaining you, he offered one of his hands to you as he stepped forward. “Yes?”

“Tell me, did he realize that you were wearing a bathrobe?”

Maul snorted. “No, he believes that I wear dramatic cloaks like he does.”

“If I recall correctly, you used to wear things like that,” you teased.

“That was a long time ago.”

“So was the last time you laid with me.”

“Now, that is a lie considering that I left you less than twenty minutes ago.”

“See? Forever.”

~

The next day saw you and Maul in the central area of the fortress, dressed to impress while waiting for Dryden’s ridiculous ship to arrive. Maul was wearing his usual attire: black clothes fit for combat at any moment, lightsaber hanging from his belt. You were in full armor for the first time since you reclaimed the fortress two months prior. Beskar pieces decorated your right shoulder and left thigh--raided from a Mandalorian settlement long ago--while strong, flexible leathers guarded everywhere else. You prioritized mobility with your armor given your fighting style, so full metal like the Mandalorians wouldn’t do. A staff was strapped across your back along with a sniper rifle, a knife at your calf, and a blaster at your hip. This was to be a show of power to an extent; the object of the presentation showing Qi’ra who was truly in charge.

Every other guard was in standard armor derived from a mixture of old Nightbrother and Mandalorian in looks. The people that worked directly under Maul in the fortress were the most trusted in the entirety of Crimson Dawn, and they were sworn to secrecy about the nature of your relationship with him. Neither Dryden or Qi’ra would be seeing any sort of attachment that could be seen as a weakness today.

“Relax,” Maul muttered under his breath after you shifted for the too-many-ith time. “You’re a professional.”

“Yes, but she isn’t. I don’t like the idea of someone like her claiming the same position I hold; makes it seem less . . .” You couldn’t come up with the word.

“She is the bed-warmer and bodyguard to a figurehead. I would hardly call that the same as your position.”

“There are those that would disagree,” you grumbled.

Finally, the door opened, revealing Dryden Vos and an admittedly beautiful woman you assumed to be Qi’ra. She was dressed to impress, that was sure, in a simple yet stunning dark blue dress that looked completely impractical for any sort of combat. Apparently, she assumed that since they were going to visit Dryden’s boss, protection would be insured. Your eyes narrowed when you noticed how her dark eyes trailed over your lover’s frame.

Foolish. Never trust people you haven’t met, and then still don’t trust them.

“Dryden,” Maul greeted cooly, “and Qi’ra, I assume?”

“That she is, a true marvel wouldn’t you say?” Dryden grinned, clearly proud of his second-in-command.

“Beautiful, I’ll give her that,” you decided. You didn’t miss the way Dryden’s facial markings flushed with his anger, but even he wasn’t bold enough to speak out against you. “Matches the rest of your collection.”

“Excuse me, who are you?” You had to respect the level of control she displayed over her facial expressions. “I’m afraid I’ve heard nothing about either of you.”

“Such caution is the reason any of us are alive,” Maul spoke up, glancing at you over his shoulder. The warning in his gaze was clear: ‘calm down.’

“Darling, this is Lord Maul, the true head of Crimson Dawn. I run the face and keep everything clear with the other Syndicates; he provides the backing we need.” You gritted your teeth at Dryden’s overinflation of his job. “This is his bodyguard, Y/N. She’s been in the position for at least as long as I’ve known him. You’ll probably never see him without her.”

“That’s how bodyguards work,” you muttered.

“And she’s worked for me since the Clone Wars,” Maul informed both of the guests. “You’d do well to respect her, and better to get her to train you. Dryden has mentioned that you’ve been training with him.”

“That would be lovely,” Qi’ra said respectfully. “Perhaps while we are here?”

“That is unlikely,” Maul replied. “Your visit was so short-notice that we couldn’t adjust our schedule accordingly. We are leaving in the morning on a business venture.”

You resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow. We don’t have any such plans . . .

“You will stay for dinner, rest here for the night, and be on your way shortly before us.”

“We would love to,” Dryden lied.

Truth be told he and Maul rarely saw eye-to-eye, and it showed at that dinner. While Maul enjoyed decadence in certain areas, Dryden was far too greedy to get along with the zabrak. Dinner was a far more simple affair than any of the parties you had seen on the First Light, you never attended, but you saw the footage for various reasons. The silence was tense. The long table was covered in just enough food for all four of you. You were at Maul’s left hand like always while he was at the head of the table; Dryden was on the end opposite with Qi’ra on his right side.

Telling, was all you could think. If he’s already that comfortable with her, he might be worse off than I thought . . .

Conversation was stilted, but you were hardly surprised. Maul was rarely conversational with other people, so Dryden and Qi’ra entertained themselves by flirting among themselves. As soon as the dinner was over, you and Maul retired to the training room for your nightly sparring session. Feeling particularly malicious, you invited them to watch. The better to show them proof of your prowess.

Once the fight started all thoughts of the onlookers went out the window. The fights were always all-out; neither of you pulled punches, never had. The only thing you were cognizant of was keeping the usual level of flirting through the floor. And based off the split-second glance of Qi’ra’s face you managed to catch while falling, she clearly didn’t expect the zabrak to pull such a cheap move as headbutting you with one of his horns. Dryden apparently wasn’t going full-tilt with her training . . .

By the time you ended the fight (you lost) and called it a night, you were both sporting bloody injuries in various places on top of new bruises. You and Maul escorted the other two to their separate rooms and left them for the night.

“I don’t trust her,” you muttered as you two walked to your rooms.

“You said as much to the idea of her, my dear,” he replied simply. “I didn’t expect you to change your opinion.”

“She’s a presumptuous little snake, and don’t think I missed the way she eyed you up the second she saw you.”

“She would not be stupid enough to try it yet.”

“Yet being the operative word.” You reached the bedroom door. “Goodnight, sir,” you said formally. 

Maul’s brows furrowed, but fortunately he was smart enough to catch on quickly. There’s someone watching, he realized. He now sensed Qi’ra’s presence in the Force far too closely to be her in her room. He was mildly impressed that you noticed when he did not; granted it wasn’t that surprising since he was generally distracted when you were around. “Goodnight. Be ready in the morning.”

Qi’ra frowned. She snuck out of her room as soon as your voices sounded like they’d rounded a corner, hoping to gain more information on the pair of you. Unfortunately, all she learned was your distaste for her was genuine and accurate. She lingered long enough to see if you would do anything after he retired, but you simply crossed your arms and waited. A hard life if she remains here all night. Her exhaustion may be my advantage, was what she thought as she slunk back to her room.

As soon as you heard her door shut in the quiet of the hallway, you snapped your fingers. Instantly, another guard took your place. “Keep an eye out for uninvited eyes,” you ordered quietly.

“Yes, ma’am.”

And then you could finally retire.

Upon entering the bedroom, you were greeted by the sight of your lover lying nude among the freshly changed, black silk sheets. Already, he was dozing, giving you ample time to enjoy the site of him relaxed and beautiful in a way he rarely was. As quietly as you could, you stripped down yourself and crawled onto the bed with him. He roused enough to share a sleepy kiss when you pulled the sheet over both of your bodies, but otherwise remained asleep. While you were not content with the whole guests situation, you were more than content with your position and quickly drifted off yourself.

#maul x reader #maul imagine #darth maul x reader #darth maul imagine #star wars imagine #reader insert

[deralpi]

Ever since Jester nearly broke down after Caduceus enquired about her well-being I wondered what it would look like if Jester went to therapy, and I run with that idea. I cooked up this fic and seasoned it with some shipping near the end (I kept it vague so regardless to which tone your shipper-heart beats you can enjoy this).

Sadly, it ended up being more than the 2000-word-limit I had given myself for Tumblr, but I couldn’t bring myself to cut anything. I hope, you still give this a shot.

The perfect moment (or otherwise known as Jester’s therapy session) [3831 words] 

__________________________________________

“Do you mind if I sit?”

Like a bubble that suddenly popped Jester was ripped out of her trance-like state. Her hand darted to her ax while her head jerked upward. The person that had spoken was only a few feet away, partially cast in shadow by the waning sunlight. Jester’s first instinct was to jump to her feet and run, casting her guardians into existence behind her, but she was stopped in her tracks when the voice spoke once more.

“No need to be frightened. Do you not remember me?

The familiarity in his voice… Jester exhaled loudly. “Oh, it’s you.”

As if he had planned it the Stranger stepped out of the penumbra of the giant cherry tree, revealing his gaunt face and wizened features. The mop of greyish-brown hair and bushy beard covering his head almost entirely lent him a wild look that stood in stark contrast to the fine clothing he was wearing. 

His blue eyes looked on in anticipation from behind the giant glasses placed on his meager nose. Jester was about to enquire about the reason for his staring when his question came back to her. “Yes, of course, you can sit if you wish.” She worked a smile into her face. “Who am I to forbid it?”

The Stranger didn’t budge. “It appears as though you scurried away in search of solitude. I would be remiss not to ask if my presence poses an intrusion to your personal space.”

“Na. Everybody is welcomed and nobody gets excluded. That is my life motto.” Jester leaned closer, lowering her voice. “I’m going to make an exception, however, if you don’t start talking normally.”

“Normally?”

“Yes. Like me.” Jester puffed herself up and beamed.

Without another word the stranger hunkered down, leaving a space between them which would comfortably fit another person. 

“I don’t bite, you know,” Jester said.

“We are acquainted with each other for only a few hours. I feel more comfortable acting accordingly.”

Jester raised an eyebrow. Precisely six hours had gone by since they, as a group, had stumbled upon this stranger and Jester was already certain that he posed the most bizarre character they had met in their time together. In its introduction he had provided no name; “of no relevance” he had said. Jester had tried to name him after funny-sounding zemnian names like “Helmut” or “Friedhelm”, but it had provoked no reaction in the Stranger besides a toneless “if you wish”. From there on out, Jester knew there was no fun to be had with this individual.

Now, she simply called him “the Stranger” in her head because it sounded both intriguing and mysterious. Both applied to him.

Jester perked her head up and broke the silence which had briefly fallen between them. “Why did you follow me when you knew I wanted to be alone?” A contradiction that had only just come to her.

“Why did you run away?” he asked instead of answering.

Jester pulled back, aghast. “I did not r—”

“Running, then drawing. With the former, you have distanced yourself physically, while the latter was meant to distant yourself mentally.” He gave a pointed look at her notebook filled with cartoonish doodles. “I could make an educated guess on the reason why, but I would prefer you to tell me what had prompted such behavior.”

Anger, boiling and churning under her skin like a torrent under the surface of a peaceful sea, slipped into her voice unnoticed. “I changed my mind. I would like to be alone now.”

“I’m afraid I can’t comply with your desires.” The impassive face of the Stranger, unfaced by the sudden tension, irritated her even more. “I don’t like prodding people over delicate problems but I consider it necessary to help you.” He adjusted his glasses. His eyes looked weary. “You may hate me for it; as I know I will.”

“I don’t need your help. I certainly didn’t ask for it.”

“Which appears to be the main issue. You never ask anyone for help; which is why you fled.” He sighed as if he already grew tired of the conversation he had begun. “You had a choice back there. Between disclosing and concealing. Unfortunately, you chose wrong.”

“Don’t presume to know me after just a few hours! I cle—”

“I know when a smile is meant to appease and when to deceive.”

Jester gasped audibly. “I’m fine,” she growled, on the verge of screaming. “I’m always fine!”

For a long time, nothing was being said. The soft breezes of the early spring were drowned out by the heavy breathing of Jester, who found herself being vexed with this man. It took a lot to get under her skin; it took even more to anger her. The Stranger managed to do both with but a few words. Jester wanted to run, escape to somewhere far away, but that would just prove his point. She had to stand her ground.

Finally, in the uncomfortable tension occupying the space between them, the Stranger stirred. Hope sparked in Jester’s heart as he propped himself up, but only briefly before she realized he wasn’t about to leave. All he had done was shift positions to face her directly. Jester was about to let another torrent of words loose when she noticed his expression: friendly, compassionate… and warm. Her head pulled back and at once, all her anger slipped off her.

“Nobody is fine all the time,” he said softly. “And you shouldn’t be either. Grant yourself some love by allowing yourself to be hurting.”

Like a warm knife through butter his words pierced all the walls she had put up and hit her right where she was most vulnerable. From one second to the next, hot tears were streaming down her face and she wept freely like she hadn’t wept in years. Jester buried her face in her hands in a fruitless attempt to hide her wretchedness, but the floodgates had been broken open and Jester feared the flow would not abate before her eyes were reddened and abused.

[Continue on AO3]

#Critical Role #Jester #Jester Lavorre #Fjorester #Beaujester #Widojest #kept it vague so it can be enjoyed by anyone

[softrobotcritics]

What to expect

*Socialized robot helpers in their own bike lanes.  Well, maybe.

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE: Thursday, October 22, 2020

Contact: Abby Abazorius, MIT News Office [email protected]; 617.253.2709

“What to Expect When You’re Expecting Robots”

Book co-authored by Associate Professor Julie Shah and Laura Major SM ’05 explores a future populated with robot helpers.

https://news.mit.edu/2020/expect-when-expecting-robots-1022

CAMBRIDGE, Mass. -- As Covid-19 has made it necessary for people to keep their distance from each other, robots are stepping in to fill essential roles, such as sanitizing warehouses and hospitals, ferrying test samples to laboratories, and serving as telemedicine avatars.

There are signs that people may be increasingly receptive to robotic help, preferring, at least hypothetically, to be picked up by a self-driving taxi or have their food delivered via robot, to reduce their risk of catching the virus.

As more intelligent, independent machines make their way into the public sphere, engineers Julie Shah and Laura Major are urging designers to rethink not just how robots fit in with society, but also how society can change to accommodate these new, “working” robots.

Shah is an associate professor of aeronautics and astronautics at MIT and the associate dean of social and ethical responsibilities of computing in the MIT Schwarzman College of Computing. Major SM ’05 is CTO of Motional, a self-driving car venture supported by automotive companies Hyundai and Aptiv. Together, they have written a new book, “What to Expect When You’re Expecting Robots: The Future of Human-Robot Collaboration,” published this month by Basic Books.

What we can expect, they write, is that robots of the future will no longer work for us, but with us. They will be less like tools, programmed to carry out specific tasks in controlled environments, as factory automatons and domestic Roombas have been, and more like partners, interacting with and working among people in the more complex and chaotic real world. As such, Shah and Major say that robots and humans will have to establish a mutual understanding.

“Part of the book is about designing robotic systems that think more like people, and that can understand the very subtle social signals that we provide to each other, that make our world work,” Shah says. “But equal emphasis in the book is on how we have to structure the way we live our lives, from our crosswalks to our social norms, so that robots can more effectively live in our world.”

Getting to know you

As robots increasingly enter public spaces, they may do so safely if they have a better understanding of human and social behavior.

Consider a package delivery robot on a busy sidewalk: The robot may be programmed to give a standard berth to obstacles in its path, such as traffic cones and lampposts. But what if the robot is coming upon a person wheeling a stroller while balancing a cup of coffee? A human passerby would read the social cues and perhaps step to the side to let the stroller by. Could a robot pick up the same subtle signals to change course accordingly?

Shah believes the answer is yes. As head of the Interactive Robotics Group at MIT, she is developing tools to help robots understand and predict human behavior, such as where people move, what they do, and who they interact with in physical spaces. She’s implemented these tools in robots that can recognize and collaborate with humans in environments such as the factory floor and the hospital ward. She is hoping that robots trained to read social cues can more safely be deployed in more unstructured public spaces.

Major, meanwhile, has been helping to make robots, and specifically self-driving cars, work safely and reliably in the real world, beyond the controlled, gated environments where most driverless cars operate today. About a year ago, she and Shah met for the first time, at a robotics conference.

“We were working in parallel universes, me in industry, and Julie in academia, each trying to galvanize understanding for the need to accommodate machines and robots,” Major recalls.

From that first meeting, the seeds for their new book began quickly to sprout.

A cyborg city

In their book, the engineers describe ways that robots and automated systems can perceive and work with humans — but also ways in which our environment and infrastructure can change to accommodate robots.

A cyborg-friendly city, engineered to manage and direct robots, could avoid scenarios such as the one that played out in San Francisco in 2017. Residents there were seeing an uptick in delivery robots deployed by local technology startups. The robots were causing congestion on city sidewalks and were an unexpected hazard to seniors with disabilities. Lawmakers ultimately enforced strict regulations on the number of delivery robots allowed in the city — a move that improved safety, but potentially at the expense of innovation.

If in the near future there are to be multiple robots sharing a sidewalk with humans at any given time, Shah and Major propose that cities might consider installing dedicated robot lanes, similar to bike lanes, to avoid accidents between robots and humans. The engineers also envision a system to organize robots in public spaces, similar to the way airplanes keep track of each other in flight.

In 1965, the Federal Aviation Agency was created, partly in response to a catastrophic crash between two planes flying through a cloud over the Grand Canyon. Prior to that crash, airplanes were virtually free to fly where they pleased. The FAA began organizing airplanes in the sky through innovations like the traffic collision avoidance system, or TCAS — a system onboard most planes today, that detects other planes outfitted with a universal transponder. TCAS alerts the pilot of nearby planes, and automatically charts a path, independent of ground control, for the plane to take in order to avoid a collision.

Similarly, Shah and Major say that robots in public spaces could be designed with a sort of universal sensor that enables them to see and communicate with each other, regardless of their software platform or manufacturer. This way, they might stay clear of certain areas, avoiding potential accidents and congestion, if they sense robots nearby.

“There could also be transponders for people that broadcast to robots,” Shah says. “For instance, crossing guards could use batons that can signal any robot in the vicinity to pause so that it’s safe for children to cross the street.”

Whether we are ready for them or not, the trend is clear: The robots are coming, to our sidewalks, our grocery stores, and our homes. And as the book’s title suggests, preparing for these new additions to society will take some major changes, in our perception of technology, and in our infrastructure.

“It takes a village to raise a child to be a well-adjusted member of society, capable of realizing his or her full potential,” write Shah and Major. “So, too, a robot.”

###

Written by Jennifer Chu, MIT News Office

Book: “What to Expect When You’re Expecting Robots” https://www.basicbooks.com/titles/laura-major/what-to-expect-when-youre-expecting-robots/9781541699113/

[oh-theatre]

Objection!: Chapter 7

Chapter title: So it begins...

A/n:  At this point with all the freaking research I do for this fic I could become a lawyer. Hope you enjoyed!! I'm excited to get started with the actual trial :)) I still think my best decision was making Joan the bailiff Make sure to leave me some comments, I really appreciate them!!

First | Previous | Next

words: 2500

summary: It's trial day!

pairings: Eventual logicality, eventual prinxiety, platonic demus

warnings: Murder mention, child murder, Law and Courtroom, swearing

Ao3 Link  

“I'm glad to see you both could make it” Roman spins in his chair, dressed in his robe. Patton and Logan share a glance. Romans chambers were fit for a prince, he had dark oak bookshelves on either side of the room, with a bay window sitting neatly behind his desk. His desk, also dark oak, was placed in the middle of the room cluttered with papers and a few quills. Roman sat on his chair, it was a deep burgundy. The room itself was comfortable, the perfect amount of natural light seeping in.

“We followed you here,” Logan recounts, Patton nods slowly, “You said ‘follow me to my chambers, and then wait outside until I call you’” Roman huffs.

“You take the fun out of everything pocket protector” He mumbles, leaning into his desk. Logan raises his eyebrows, he taps his foot keeping it quiet but urgent. It would be wrong to say Logan was nervous, Logan never went into a case without being completely prepared. He wasn't nervous, no, he was… anticipating. There is always these moments, the moment where he's preparing, studying everything he can. Then there are the moments before the trial, his stomach is in knots, his head feels almost too full and he's constantly sweating. Finally, the moment of the trial, all of this goes away. He stands on the courtroom, confident, diligent and ready. But that moment hasn't come yet, no, he was sweaty and his mind was racing.

“I want to go over a few things” Roman informs, shuffling some loose papers on his desk. He picks out two, handing them to the lawyers. “I know you know the basics, you've been in my court enough times to know. I won't tolerate inappropriate behavior, you will respect each other and the law, any new evidence will be run by me, yada yada…” He trails off, they nod. Both lawyers had heard this enough times they could practically recite it by heart. He clears his throat picking up a small piece of paper.

“New evidence?” Patton questions, surely as of now they have submitted everything they need to the court.

“Well, since its an ongoing case for the police, there is bound to be new developments and who knows what will happen during the trial” Roman gestures, “So, if any new evidence needs to be submitted or introduced, you will wait until after court each day. Ya know, the usual” Patton nods understanding. Roman taps his desk looking around it as if trying to remember something. “Oh! Virgil wanted to let you both know, he or Remy are going to be present during the trials, besides testifying I mean,  seeing as they are the lead detectives on the case.” Logan and Patton process this, it's not unusual for the police to be present or involved.

“Anything else?” Logan inquires, he adjusts his glasses, itching the tip of his nose. Patton looks expectantly towards Roman. Logan, as much as he appreciated these repetitive meetings, needed to get started.

“Anything I need to know about your witnesses or clients?” Roman retorts, they ponder the question for a moment. Patton lights up.

“The wife and children of my client will most likely be presenting a very emotional testimony” Patton notes, Roman takes his quill writing down what Patton says in his notes. “Lo?”. Logan faces his opposer, his blue eyes staring expectantly at him. His round glasses sit comfortably on his nose, framing his round face perfectly. His lips, why Logan was looking at his lips is a question without an answer, he was biting the side of them subtly. It's not Logan's fault he stares, he has a tendency to examine every small detail about a person, trying to gather as much as he can from them.

“Earth to Logan” Roman waves his hand from the desk, Logan blinks grounding himself.

“My witnesses will most likely be stable, however, one or two might be more emotional” He responds, Roman writes this down. Patton watches Logan unsure of what had just happened but he waved it off. Focusing his thoughts on what was about to happen.

“I guess that's it then,” Roman decides folding up his notes. Logan and Patton nods, Patton bouncing on his heels. “You are dismissed, head over to the courtroom”. Logan nods a goodbye before leaving, Patton smiles following Logan. They walk silently side by side, their fingers occasionally brushing against the others hand, enjoying the last moments of peace. Both aware that as soon as they cross over the line into the courtroom, they are no longer friends.

~~~

Logan loved the courtroom. It was the perfect place, the soft carpet beneath his feet, the symmetry of it all, the colors were easy on the eyes. Everything about it was...perfect. He could go through a grueling case, lose miserably, and still be absolutely enamored with the place. He takes his first step in crossing the line, the cold air coming from the air conditioner hitting him causing him to shiver delightfully. He walks over towards the right desk, planted next to the jury box, followed by Reeve. He set his things down, organizing everything accordingly. His opening statement, though memorized, was sat neatly in front of him. He places his three pencils and two pens in a small cup in the corner. His mountain of files was piled in the middle, labeled and in order of witness and evidence. Possible cross-examination questions were at the front of the desk, waiting to be used. Everything was...perfect. He sits, ushering Reeve to take the seat next to him, perfectly aware that the jury is watching his every move. He’s used to it, soon enough he would be doing the same to them.

“They look terrifying” Reeve whispers leaning over to Logan, he looks over them nodding.

“They always are the first time, but then you realize they're just people” Logan assures, Reeve exhales softly sitting back in his chair. Now comes Logan's favorite part, there's always a small amount of time before the trial begins, Logan uses this to his advantage. No matter how hard they try, a jury is never completely impartial. First impressions are everything, and catering to them is necessary. Logan cracks his knuckles setting his gaze on the 12 jurors. Patton likes to call this his ‘Sherlock moment’. “Give me a number” Logan requests, Reeve looks up tilting his head.

“Uh..3?” Logan nods, and so it begins. If he was going to be Sherlock, might as well do it to its fullest. Number three sat in the top box of the Jury, presumingly female. Her hair was down, a dark inky color, either shiny or greasy. Her shoulders were touching her ears, and she kept glancing around her. Nervous, tense, shy. She wore a tan suit jacket, coupled with a tan pencil skirt. Logan notices a ring placed on her left hand as she brushed her hair behind her ears. Married, and judging by the constant glances at her phone and the poorly covered under bags of eyes, she had kids. Logan smirks, this was good for him. “What are you doing?” Reeve asks watching Logan's eyes dart frantically around.

“Number three has made up her mind,” Logan notes, he writes down his observations “She has kids of her own, finding it preposterous that someone would kill innocent children” Logan decides, Reeve's eyes widen.

“How did you…” He trails off, Logan turns practically buzzing.

“Elementary, my dear Miller” Logan responds, Patton would be so crushed he missed this.

~~~

“Good afternoon!” Patton greets skipping into the courtroom carrying all his items. The jury erupts into whispers as they watch the man. He takes his place on the left side, placing his things down all the same. He sits tapping a pile of papers on the desk to straighten them. He glances to his right, the jury, Reeve, and Logan all watch him. He smiles, waving at his fellow lawyer. Logan shakes his head hiding a small smile. He looks towards the stand eyeing the chair where Roman would sit. The door to the left swings open as Joan, the bailiff, emerges. They stand tall eyeing everyone.

“All rise. The court is now in session, the honorable Judge Roman Reial presiding” They announce, Patton and Logan, followed by everyone else obey. Joan moves to stand behind Romans chair, Patton watches the door. Roman appears gracefully, holding his own files and gavel. He bows slightly to everyone before taking his seat.

“Good afternoon, guys, gals and nonbinary pals” He turns winking at Joan. “Calling the case of ‘The People vs George Hoff’” He announces reading off his file. “Are both sides ready?” He looks to Logan and Patton.

“Ready for the people, your honor” Logan nods

“Ready for the defense, your honor,” Patton says, Roman bites his lip staring at the lawyer. He believes in Patton he always has, but he was worried for the passionate lawyer. Now, Roman wasn't biased, but he, like many other judges had his own opinions.

“Everyone, except the jury, may be seated” Roman declares, Patton, Logan, and Reeve take their seat. They hear the witnesses and audiences sitting behind them. “Will Joan please swear in the jury?” Roman inquires turning to Joan. They nod taking a book from the stand and making their way over to the jury box.

“Please raise your right hand. Do you solemnly swear or affirm that you will truly listen to this case and render a true verdict and a fair sentence as to this defendant?” Joan recites, a chorus of ‘I do’ is heard.  “You may be seated.” They turn back towards Roman, returning to their place. Roman faces the jury now, the transition from Roman to Judge Reial taking place.

“Members of the jury, your duty today will be to determine whether the defendant is guilty or not guilty based only on facts and evidence provided in this case. The prosecution has the burden of proving the guilt of the defendant beyond a reasonable doubt. This burden remains on the prosecution through the trial. The prosecution must prove that a crime was committed and that the defendant is the person who committed the crime. However, if you are not satisfied with the defendant’s guilt to that extent, then reasonable doubt exists and the defendant must be found not guilty” Romans voice is firm, Logan swears he can see a few members of the jury box shiver. He smirks impressed, he doesn't give the judge enough credit. “Wonderful” He claps his hands together and points his gavel at Logan, he takes a deep breath before standing and facing the jury box.

“Your Honor and members of the jury-” Logan begins but is quickly cut off by a disturbance. He turns to the door that has just been swung open. The jury box gasps, as Patton stands.

“Mr.Hart, what is this?” Roman asks, Patton turns to him placing his hands on the desk.

“It's my client your honor” Logans breath seizes as Virgil and Remy enter on either side of a man. The man is dressed in a bright orange jumpsuit, his hands are cuffed. “Your honor, members of the jury… this is George Hoff” Patton informs. They walk him down the aisle, past scared audiences, a woman sobs as he passes by. His wife, Logan presumes. Logan moves towards Patton, feeling his hands grow sweaty as the client approaches the smaller lawyer. Patton smiles sadly at George, allowing Virgil and Remy to cuff him to Patton's desk. Logans impulses take over as he walks over to the two detectives and Patton, he places a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Lo? What's up?” Patton asks facing him

“I...:” Logan stares glancing back at Remy and Virgil who stare at home curiously. “I...dodon't know.” He whispers, Patton stifles a laugh.

“Cuff got your tongue?” Remy offers, Virgil sucks in shaking his head. “Eh, you win some, you lose some” He mumbles, Patton bites his lips shaking his own head.

“Just be...ok?” Logan tried, he curses himself at his inability to make a coherent sentence. Patton scrunches his brows, an adorably confused look glazing his face, but he nods.

“Mr.Tolentino please return to your bench” Roman orders, Logan glances between Patton and Roman. He nods moving back, he shoots an apologetic glance at Roman who eyes him confused.

“I am very sorry for the interruption you honor, members of the jury, Mr.Tolentino” Patton apologizes taking his seat next to George, Logan feels his shoulders tense. Remy and Virgil discuss something quickly with Patton before taking their seats in the audience. Roman lets out a deep sigh, rubbing his temples. Patton tries an apologetic smile, the jury continues chattering nervously. Roman bangs his gavel calling attention.

“Order! Order please” He demands, Patton purses his lips, face turning red. “Mr.Tolentino, you may resume” Logan nods standing once more in front of the jury.

“As I was saying, Your Honor and members of the jury, my name is Logan Tolentino. The defendant George Hoff is being charged with multiple counts of first-degree murder.” Patton lets out an exasperated sigh “The evidence will show that on the nights in question multiple witnesses and evidence collected from different sources. The information alleges that on the days in question, Mr.Hoff was indeed present and did kill multiple victims. The evidence, along with witness testimonies will prove to you that the defendant is guilty as charged” He takes a deep breath “Thank you” Patton smiles encouragingly at Logan, why does he have to be so nice? Patton stands taking Logan's place.

“Your honor, members of the jury, hi!” Virgil smirks at his charisma, no matter how many times he watches Patton in court, he's always amazed “My name is Patton Hart, as you know I represent the prosecution. Under the law, my client is innocent until proven guilty” He continues “During this trial, I will counteract Mr.Tolentino's evidence with my own to prove that George Hoff is not guilty of the charges against him” He smiles “Thank you!” He bounces, striding back to his seat.

“Thank you both” Roman looks over his files before looking at Logan “The prosecution may call its first witness” Logan nods, standing.

“Thank you, your honor” Logan looks down “The people call Virgil Tormine to the stand” Virgil stands annoyed, Joan makes their way leading him to the stand. He takes his seat in the witness stand, propping his feet up. Roman glares, receiving a knowing smirk in return.

“Please stand” Joan requests, Virgil grumbles but does so anyway “Raise your right hand. Do you promise that the testimony you shall give in the case before this court shall be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you, God?” Joan recites, Virgil thinks for a moment.

“No”

“Virgil,” Patton and Logan say in unison, both voices harmonizing in annoyance. Roman squeezes his gavel… today was going to be a long day.

#objection au #sanders sides #logicality #logan sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #deceit sanders #remus sanders #thomas sanders #prinxiety #ts joan #ao3 #archive of our own #ts valerie #writing #my writing #youtube