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atsunflower · 4 years

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Hospital for souls — The Line

Rated: SFW

Author note: I gotta nothing to say. This took me really long and I struggled a lot to write it. Thanks for being patient with me. Also, big shoutout to @neonghxst, who helped me a lot with this one. I love you bby 💕

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of anxiety and this chapter contains gore towards the end.

IV — The line

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"I don't wanna go" Your voice showed distaste at the invitation.

Since the fight with Sakusa, you avoided all human contact like the plague. The only ones that talked to you were the maids and, occasionally, Komori, who had warmed up to you since you saved his ass — to be honest, you weren't very fond of his change of character.

"Listen, you're the new lady of this household." Komori explained in a tired manner."This gala is held every year in some sort of diplomatics, to grant no family crosses the line. All the important members must make a presence."

"Yeah, but I'm sure no one cares if I don't show up." You deadpanned looking at his face.

"It's just a fancy ass party. I'll take you to get a dress myself, but I gotta run some errands and find a suit too. If I'm late, then Izuna will take you." Komori saw you stiffening when you heard the name. Ever since you arrived in Itachiyama, Izuna was the most hostile towards you. "Hey, don't worry about him... He'll be nice."

"I gotta remind you that no one has been nice to me since I came here, Komori-san." You stated the obvious and the male before you grimaced.

"Look, we're not as bad as you think. Neither we are some sort of low life criminals, you know." His voice sent shivers down your spine. The hazel-haired man has been treating you better, yes, but you could tell the words you said to Sakusa that day affected him too.

"Yeah. But you all did nothing to prove me wrong." You stared at his eyes, the sincere tone meaning each world "If anything, all you did was make me miserable even though I'm not a threat. And you know it." You saw when the hazel haired male shook his head, face softening a little.

"I'll be back in a few." And then, Komori left.

To your relief, it was Komori himself who showed up at your bedroom door. Now, you were at some boutique somewhere in the fancy side of Shibuya, trying a beautiful strappy off-white dress.

You loved how the silky cloth hugged your body and how the pearly color complimented your skin tone. Definitely, it was the propper gown for an event as important as a mafia gala.

Taking in the figure reflected in the mirror, you recalled the last time you wore something so fancy was at your wedding. Suddenly, you felt ugly — after all, you were a woman of surgical scrubs and white coats. Wearing something like this dress was a reminder of what kind of life you were living now.

"[Name]-san, have you decided?" Komori asked with an undecipherable look on his face.

"Ah, yes, I'm taking this one" You said to the salesperson, already getting back to the changing room.

From the inside, you heard a knock on the door. It was Komori.

"[Name], are you good?" He asked in a soft spoken manner, as if he was concerned.

You know it's not the case, don't let your guard down, you reminded yourself.

"Yes, Komori-san. Are we ready to go?" He hummed in agreement, saying he was going to do the payment.

The two of you had yet to arrive in Itachiyama. The silence was heavy inside the car and you could see the man opening his mouth as if he was trying to say something.

"I never asked, did you see a doctor?" You started, breaking the unnerving atmosphere.

"Ah, yes. I'm all good, no sequels or whatever." He cleared his throat, side-glancing at you "Those guys took us by surprise that night, huh? We were lucky you were there to help us out." You hummed, staring at his elbow, as if you could see through the material of his jacket.

"I shouldn't have opened your arm that way. It was really irresponsible of me to do it and it was a miracle things ended up well."You said in a reflecting manner.

Does she regret saving me?, Komori couldn't help but wonder.

"The doctor I saw said the surgery was perfectly executed, so don't beat yourself over it. Besides, I can see the passion you have. You'd make it right anyways." The male said truthfully and you frowned. You didn't want his trust because he would never have yours.

You also didn't like the appreciative tone he used. A doctor isn't a hero, You reminded yourself everyday, to never let it go to your head.

"I'm passionate, but it's about my personal ethics, you don't need passion to be good at what you do. I think you know it very well." You still frowned, not liking what he implied. You never wanted to be some sort of hero, much less to someone like him.

"Yeah, I don't need to love the yakuza to be good at it. But I don't think a passionless person would make a good doctor." He argued, trying to prove his point.

"In my line of work, a mistake costs your whole career. Passionless and unethical people exist everywhere, a hospital isn't a sanctuary." You said matter of factly — it wasn't about the romantic lenses people saw the health workers. After all, medicine was a field made majorly of people with the means and the money. You learned it the hard way when you made into med school.

"Why would you say that?" The traffic light signalled to stop. The Kobun used this opportunity to take in your figure, eyes roaming over your crossed arms and unfazed features.

Duty takes a toll in everyone, huh?, He internally stated.

"Because I know someone. And as passionless someone could be, he's still the best at what he does." And Komori didn't miss the feeling displayed in your eyes.

It wasn't merely passion. Something deeper resided in those irises of yours.

An awkward silence overtook the atmosphere as the car resumed its movement. He felt uncomfortable, trying to figure out what you meant.

"Well, what matters is that everything ended up well. Who would have guessed they would attack us that night?" Komori conceded, trying to break the unsettling quietness.

"Yeah, this whole yakuza thing is really scary." You said looking through the tinted window, a pensive look in your face.

"You'll get used to it. And it doesn't happen on a daily basis either" He brushed you off, turning in a curb.

"Yeah, but ignoring the threat isn't an easy task." You retorted, tiredly.

"How do you know it? Besides, since you're our lady, it's not like we'll let something happen to you." The brunette said, in hopes of comforting you. It had the opposite effect, as a silent rage ran down your body.

"Komori-san, how do I know?" You bitterly laughed "My whole life, I was at the line. My mother didn't want me to be born, Inarizaki wanted my head since I was in the womb and you guys will get rid of me at any given opportunity." You saw him opening his mouth to argue "Your household won't protect me if the order comes from Sakusa."

As if in a cue, the car approached the gates of Itachiyama. Komori was rendered speechless, knowing you were right.

Personally, you weren't one to offend people and make them feel bad. You couldn't help the pang in your chest every time you exploded at any of them. But by god, were you tired.

I just want my life back, you thought. After all, it was infinite times easier to be a target when you were somehow detached from the life inside the families. The Kobun said something you paid no mind to.

Banging the car door shut, you ignored his calling.

The nagging feeling was a constant in his life.

Roaming through his memories, he could never pinpoint a time he felt comfortable under his skin. He was too anxious and life never treated him kindly to do so.

Maybe he overreacted a lot, too. But it wasn't his fault he had to be hyper aware of his surroundings.

The alert state was essential in an ambience full of people who could stab him in the back.

Fuck the diplomatics, he cursed.

It was one of those nights he hated the most. The suntuous ballroom was full of people going back and forth, bragging about futilities and throwing insincere flattery at each other. All because the ever so generous Karasuno was hosting a dinner at The Crow to assure no one disturbs the deal between the families.

Bullshit, he thought. It's only Karasuno trying to show off their influence over this frail peace.

And, as much as he appreciated said peace, he hated how everyone faked they got along with each other.

Not that he cared about politeness either. And his signature scowl did nothing to keep people away. After all, everyone wanted a piece of Itachiyama.

"Kiyoomi." The ravenette heard the deep voice from his back. A wave of relief washed over him.

At least, Wakatoshi-kun is here. I won't die from boredom, He mused.

"Wakatoshi." He responded, nodding at the other. From outside Itachiyama, Ushijima was the only one Sakusa considered a friend.

"I thought you wouldn't come tonight, I know you don't really like the crowd."

"People would find weird if I didn't, considering Inarizaki and everything."

"Speaking of which, did you bring your wife?" Ushijima asked, looking around. Sakusa nodded before speaking.

"Yeah, she went to the restrooms. Komori is with her." And speaking of the devil, you came into view.

He knew you had a fine taste for things, and he would be a fool to say you didn't look good tonight. But he would never admit it.

A Miya isn't worth you time, he repeated it like a mantra, observing as you made your way onto him.

Komori enthusiastically greeted Ushijima and you merely nodded out of politeness, looking at the bulky male with caution. Given Ushijima's intimidating vibes, Sakusa couldn't really blame you.

"I see you're Sakusa's wife. I'm Ushijima Wakatoshi." He offered his hand at you "It's a pleasure to meet you"

"Likewise, Ushijima-san" You introduced yourself as the Oyabun of Itachiyama watched the scene unfold before him, recalling how his friend was the blunt and introverted type. He couldn't help but admire the way the two of you conversed smoothly; earning Ushijima's sympathy required effort. You did it with ease.

"She's a good woman." Sakusa didn't see when your conversation died down and Ushijima turned to him. He found himself dumbfounded at the other's statement.

"She's a Miya"

"She worked with Shirabu. He spoke highly of her" A waiter passed by offering them whiskey. The rich scent of Yamazaki reached his nostrils as he drank it, throat used to the burning sensation "And you know he's not one to lie."

"Still…" His retort was halted when he felt the weight of a gaze on him. In the far corner of the room, none other than Oikawa Tooru had all his attention turned to the general direction of you all "What is he looking at?" He squinted at the brunette's direction, trying to make out his intentions.

"He seems to be looking at your wife" Ushijima bluntly spoke "But don't worry about him, Oikawa may have his reasons. He is a reliable man, after all."

"You're indeed soft today. What happened?" The other opened his mouth to respond before being interrupted by a startled voice.

Your husband was doing a good job ignoring you while speaking to Ushijima — you wouldn't complain, since you didn't want any of his attention.

Listening to Komori speaking wonders of the whiskey he was drinking, you felt a little at ease. You imagined the gala to be much scarier than this, but all you could see was snotty people too full of themselves. It was almost comical hearring them bragging about things you couldn't even dream of.

"This is a 25 years old Yamazaki. It's a favorite of mine and Kiyoomi—"

"Is this real life?" A surprised voice cutted Komori's middle sentence.

Before you, a handsome man looked appalled, staring at you with an emotion you couldn't identify. You were feeling uncomfortable as everyone around you was paying attention to your interaction.

"I'm sorry, sir. But am I supposed to know you?" You asked, in hopes to remember if you knew him by any chance. He beamed brightly at you.

"Of course you wouldn't remember me!" And he laughed again, earning a frown from your husband.

"Do you have any business to do with my wife?" Sakusa's cold-steel voice asked. The pretty man ignored it. And, at this point, everyone in the area stopped their actions, watching the scene with interest.

"I'm Oikawa Tooru, the Oyabun of Seijoh. Two years ago, you saved my nephew's life in an accident at the Dinosaur Bridge, only using a needle. After it, you held his hand until the ambulance came." The man bowed deeply, and only now you noticed he was accompanied by another spiky-haired male, who was also bowing at you. Observing them, you faintly remembered saving a little boy in a traffic accident a couple of years ago "For that, I'll be forever thankful. In return, I wanted to say you have Seijoh's gratitude whenever you need it." He stood tall again, staring at you dead in the eye to confirm he meant every single word he said.

You were speechless.

"I… sir, I'm thankful, but I did what had to be done. You don't owe me anything." You said uncertainly, glancing at the startled faces of both Komori and Sakusa. Ushijima looked fondly at you, as if he knew something.

"You had a choice that day, and you choosed to help us when we couldn't do anything. And it's enough for us to pay you back." The spiky-haired man said. It was rare for someone to address you with so much respect and sincerity. You appreciated it wholeheartedly.

"I— thank you." And you bowed at them, trying to show your gratitude to both males.

"Well, we won't disturb you anymore. Please have a good night" The Oikawa guy said, handing you a business card which you secluded inside your clutch.

"See?" You heard Ushijima saying, but you were too stunned to register it.

You didn't have time to process the event, as someone announced the dinner was about to be served.

"Seijoh's favour, huh? You sure are skyrocketing this mafia thing." Suna said, sitting on the chair on the opposite side of the table.

You all were addressed to a table with ten seats. It looked like Itachiyama was paired up with Inarizaki and another household you were yet to discover. The atmosphere was already stiff, as Sakusa kept throwing dirty glares at the twins.

"Impressive how you're doing well inside the yakuza. I thought you weren't going to last a month." Atsumu snickered as Osamu and the others ignored everything around them, getting ready for the dinner.

You mimicked their actions before Izuna joined you; you tensed seeing him taking the seat by your left.

Sakusa sat by your right, side-glancing at you. It looked like he had a newfound interest since the interaction with Oikawa earlier.

To your surprise, Seijoh was addressed to your table. Though, both Oikawa and Iwaizumi — Suna let you know his name and the fact he was also a Kobun — said nothing, sensing the tension hanging in the air.

None of the men said anything as the food started to be served. Instead, they busied themselves with the entree, keeping the smalltalk inside their household circle.

You heard Osamu saying something about the wine but you didn't register it. Soon enough, the waiters brought the main course in silver trays.

It smelled fabulous and your mouth watered at the scent.

"A lovely meal for the lady. Please enjoy it, I'm sure you won't forget this occasion." The blond waiter said, as he uncovered your plate. You took in the deep red sauce made of berries and the way the meat was perfectly cooked.

With fork and knife in hand, you went for it.

And indeed, you wouldn't forget the occasion.

Sliding the meat over the plate, you noticed it hiding something. The scream was caught in your throat as you recognized the obnoxious structure, because years of unveiling the human anatomy would never fail you.

The cutlery clattered in the porcelain surface, spilling the sauce all over you. The white of your dress was now tainted with crimson, as if blood seeped out of your chest.

But you didn't even feel it. All you felt were hands shaking your body, trying to draw some reaction from you. The screams also came in a white noise through your ears, because all you could register was the sight before your eyes.

In the middle of the plate, a finger rested limp and dirty. Dead.

In a similar manner, you did too.

Among the chaos, you sat there, also limp and dirty. At the end of a promise of death.

❥ tagging: @keekee-732 @chiibichann @captain-shittykawa @fortheloveofiwaizumi @daisyjaebae @jihoonspout @floodinginstars @fl4mepillar @trash4sportsanime @neonghxst @starrystanze @teaanbiss @hqxreader @yskomiii @shadyjinyoung @julimausi1311 @hyoonx23 @keuromi @differentballooncollection @onigiriimiya @wolfiepirate @sekshi-namjas @tomo-uwu @atsumusgf @letmegetthisclear @katokanae @cherryonigiri @ushijima-meixiu @bimboiiying @crownedcupcake17 @tvwhoresblog @thenerdyrebel @idiot-juice-enthusiast @caprolls @keijination @wakaitoshi @clowninfortodoroki @shiningotak-ku @kemochie @lilacshouko @sehunosh @kiyoojima @shimy-deko @bap-kingdom @raenebalgaire @ricefarmerkita @rintarose @xanaxdeity @reiningsun

Taglist is closed (50/50)

#sakusa scenarios #sakusa x y/n #sakusa x reader #sakusa kiyoomi imagines #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa headcanons #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!!#hq sakusa #hq x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu sakusa #sakusa smut #haikyuu smut

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thatnaruhinaanon · 3 years

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[Part 3]

Naruto reread Sasuke’s message one last time before dropping his phone on his desk and leaning against the back of his chair, his brows furrowed. His friend’s behavior wasn’t exactly strange: Sasuke had always had very little consideration for anything that wasn’t himself or his family but, even for his standards, that was a pretty dick move. He sighed. Whatever. Naruto would pick up the most expensive items on a menu somewhere and just give him the bill to pay, then; that was the least his friend could do.

He casted a glance around him, his eyes quickly scanning their surroundings. This room, just like the rest of the building, was relatively new and nicely furnished. The hospital must have been less than five years old and Naruto had to admit that he had been quite impressed upon seeing it for the very first time a week ago. His previous hospital well might have been one of the country’s most prestigious health care facilities, the premises themselves were now quite dilapidated and could certainly not compete against the wonders of the multibillion Uchiha money machine, as proven by this office. How big was it, twenty square meters? And just for one man? Naruto wasn’t used to such luxury.

Guiltlessly putting off the tedious set-up of his computer to a later time, he gathered up his phone and wallet before getting up, his hand hesitating to grab the thick orange parka he had showed up with earlier this morning. Usually, Naruto never left the hospital with his white coat on: sure, he had always been a bit of a show-off, but walking around in such apparel was for the braggers and the half-wits, which wasn’t his case. However, with such a big private hospital in the neighborhood, medical staff and patients must have been regulars of the restaurants and takeaways of the vicinity, and visually signaling on his first time out that he belonged to Konoha may be the smarter thing to do in case he needed help or anything. Plus, it wasn’t that cold anyway today for the season, courtesy of global warming.

Once on the sidewalk in front of the building’s main entrance and slightly shivering under the stiff fabric of the lab coat, his short and spiky hair catching the shy rays of sun that made it through the late February clouds, the hunt could finally start. He could have probably just ordered their meal online or checked for a place with good ratings beforehand, but there was something inherently exciting in just slipping his smartphone in his back pocket and wandering around those unfamiliar streets, on the lookout for a place to catch his eye.

To be honest, Naruto had also never been good at taking advice from other people online and clearly prefered discovering and experiencing life by himself, at the risk of making mistakes and missing out on opportunities. He passed a Korean barbecue restaurant, located only two buildings away, as well as a burger place and a tiny ramen joint, but kept on walking -regretfully. Knowing himself, he would probably be trying that ramen place on the very next day and every other one of the week, so picking up something more to Sasuke’s liking for once was in order. Moreover, he didn’t want to eat like a horse on his first day of work, especially when he was to meet the Chief of surgery and the Head of General surgery right after. A lighter option would probably be more appropriate…

Naruto squinted as he carefully studied the different establishments in the busy business street he had just gotten in: around him, salarymen and women in suits and pencil skirts jostled around the crowded sidewalks, eagerly rushing inside their favorite lunch places to grab their takeaway. Hmm. All these small restaurants seemed like great options, but their lines were quite long, with some people even waiting outside sometimes, and he did not have this kind of time on his hands. He strolled a couple of meters, passing more food joints without making his mind. Hmm hmm. All things considered, ordering online may not have been such a terrible idea, afterall.

He checked the time on his phone, and his mouth let out a little annoyed noise. He really had to hurry up if he wanted to make it on time for Sasuke. Damn it. Should he simply head back to the hospital and get food delivered? Maybe…

A sigh of relief escaped him when, stuck between a fastfood and a sushi chain, the sight of a tiny takeaway restaurant with only three customers inside appeared to him, and he hurriedly stepped inside, so happy to have found a place with such a short line that he almost knocked down the person who was waiting right in front of him with the door.

“Wow, my bad, sorry about that!” He apologized as he cautiously closed the glass door behind him, embarrassed. The customer turned around and gave him a sheepish smile.

“It’s all good, don’t you worry” they assured him with their soft voice before turning back again, and Naruto curiously looked at the menu, displayed on big black slates hanging behind the cashier. His relieved smile vanished instantly.

He had entered some kind of salad place.

He may not have been a picky eater but vegetables were definitely not a food group that he willingly welcomed to his table on a daily basis, and salads were the most remotely thing from a meal possible in his eyes. Instinctively, he raised his hand up in the hair and scratched the back of his neck. No wonder why no one was eating here! What was he, a rabbit?

He was in a hard place. On one hand, he had no intention whatsoever to eat leafs and roots for lunch, but on the other side, time was running out and it was getting too late to get food anywhere else. He glanced around, looking for help… But nobody was coming to his rescue.

He took a few steps front.

“Hmm, excuse-me, Ms?” He dared asking in a whisper the woman he had almost smashed the door into. Her ethereal eyes looked up to him again, wide and surprised. “Do you know by any chance what’s good on the menu?” He added, shakily. “I’m grabbing lunch for a friend and I and this former isn’t big on vegetables”. His lips stretched, the smile he had intended as comforting and charming coming off straight awkward and creepy. The woman blinked.

“I believe your friend is going to get disappointed no matter what…” She blinked again. “Salad bars are not exactly renowned for their fish or meat.”

Well, duh. He knew that already, he wasn’t exactly stupid. Just really unlucky to have walked into the one healthy restaurant on the street.

“Alright”, he conceded nonchalantly, “I’ll have what you’re having, then.”

The blue-haired woman raised an eyebrow, the ghost of a sly baby grin crossing her face.

“Except you don’t know what I’m having”, she pointed out to him, visibly amused by the turn of events. Naruto innocently shrugged his shoulders.

“I’ll just listen really carefully to your order”, he sassed back. The woman chuckled.

“And what if I whisper it to the cashier?”

Pfff. Too easy. “Then, I would just ask for what the person before me had”, he answered, a false serious look on his face that made the female customer's cheeks redden as she bit her smile away. In front of them, the line moved.

“Next customer, please?” Called the woman behind the cash register, and Naruto’s lovely line companion promptly moved forwards.

“Oh ah, sorry”, she managed to get out, the words now weirdly jostling against one another in her mouth, “May I have two number six with green teas, please?”

“Make that four, please!” Loudly chimed in Naruto, blatantly ignoring the somewhat scandalized look from the light-eyes woman that his familiarity was earning him, “But forget the green teas for me. Let’s tone all that healthiness down with some cokes instead.”

And with his order done, he respectfully took a step back to give his neighbor all the privacy they needed to pay.

Perhaps having a salad for lunch wasn’t the worst thing. The little scene that had just played out had somewhat reboosted him, successfully convincing his brain to release a wave of endorphins that were much needed on this stressful first day of work, and that almost compensated for the disgustingly green food he was about to ingest. Perhaps should he get the woman something, like offering to pay for her teas? To thank her for this nice parenthesis.

“Are you working at the Konoha hospital?”

Pulling him out of his reflection, the crystal voice of the customer caught Naruto’s attention again and he almost imperceptibly shook his head to chase the fog that was clouding his brain. The blouse had been a good idea, in the end.

“As a matter of fact”, he answered with a boyish smile, “Today’s my first day there! How did you guess?” He added with a lopsided smirk as he stretched his arms wide open to highlight the white coat. He wondered for a second what his interlocutor did for a living: judging by her pair of black leggings under her long dark purple coat and her flats, she wasn’t working a desk job -unless there were some fancy young startups in the surrounding area he didn’t know about. Would it be okay to ask her about her own job?

He didn’t tergiversate for long though as, coming from behind the cash register, an employee was already bringing her up a big brown bag.

“Ma’am, your order!” Announced the employee, and Naruto found himself almost frustrated that they had been so effective and fast. He was enjoying this impromptu interaction.

In front of him, the woman kindly accepted her package and, upon turning around to leave the shop, bowed her head in Naruto’s direction.

“It was a pleasure waiting in line with you” she told him, her liquid pupils focused on the floor. “May you have a pleasant lunch with your friend.”

“Thanks, you t-” started Naruto, but she was already gone, her small legs carrying her as quickly as they could outside of the door. The blond surgeon contemplated the glass for a second, dumbfounded. She had run away so fast. Was she actually in a hurry? She had seemed so calm this entire time, he would have never guessed so.

“Sir, your menus!”

With a polite smile, he walked in turn to the cashier and got his wallet out of his coat’s pocket. “How much do I owe you?” He asked, already reaching for some crumpled bills that he had shoved inside with very little care. The employee shook their head, and emphatically handed them his bag.

“The lady before you paid already. She said it was a gift for your first day of work.”

Oh.

He should have definitely offered to pay for her teas.

[Part 5]

#Socmed AU #NaruHina Socmed AU #NaruHina #Naruto Uzumaki #Hinata Hyuga

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ardentmuse · 4 years

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Rogue Choices - Prologue (Kingsman x Reader)

Kingsman - Harry Hart x reader, Eggsy Unwin x Reader, Merlin (Hamish) x Reader (you decide!)

Summary: As a new agent, Arthur gives you your last big assignment before you are approved to run missions on your own, only this time you get to pick your partner. And who says you can’t mix business and pleasure.

Wordcount: 5.8k (and this is just the intro!)

Warnings: fluff, sexual tension, talk of violence

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

(Note: I started this a long time ago but had to pause because Twine was doing weird things. It’s meant as a fully interactive piece, but I think we can make it work here on tumblr and AO3 with different chapter links. So I’m putting it out into the world to see if you all like it!)

PROLOGUE

Two strong raps on the door grant you a gentle, “Come in.”

As you turn the handle and enter, the smell of old books and polished wood fills your nostrils. Arthur’s office is a proper executive space. Shelves are lined with old tombs that must have been passed down for generations. The rich, plush Persian rug is worm upon the edges from years of use, but still draws the eye with its vibrant reds and subtle blues. Two large and striking leather wingbacks rest before a sturdy walnut desk, at which sits a patient Arthur, who doesn’t even bother to lift his gaze from the files before him as he hears you enter.

“Agent Kay, please take a seat.”

You do as you are bid, leaning back into the worn leather to take in the countenance of you boss. He seems tired, the grey hair of his eyebrows coming together as he squints at the documents before him. But even with the slight bags under his eyes, he is still the image of a proper gentleman. His collar is expertly pressed and his turtle shell glasses sit low on the bridge of his nose, just as you imagine Churchill’s might have.

After a few moments, he shuffles the papers aside and levels his eyes with yours.

“It seems you received the memo that I needed to see you?”

You laugh, “Your assistant nearly tackled me as I left lunch.”

“Eager kid, that one. He’ll make a good agent someday, too,” he muses, and then with a wry smile adds, “Much like you.”

“I’m already an agent, Arthur.”

“But mayhaps a good one given time,” he says, his eyebrows rising ever so slightly in challenge.

You haven’t been a secret agent long, having earned the title only a few months prior. The selection process to join the Kingsman was grueling to say the least, but you had been Arthur’s hand picked candidate. Only upon your recruitment did you understand just how much Arthur, a second father to you in so many ways, had primed you from your youth for this very role you doesn’t even know existed.

But nothing, not even Arthur, could have prepared you for the stress of being a Kingsman agent out in the field. Taking down the world’s most harrowing criminals, dismantling sex trafficking rings and stopping terrorist attacks takes a toll on the mind and body. Death is constantly right beside you, a single word or a single misstep enough to reveal your identity and get you killed. The work of Kingsman is highly classified, incredibly dangerous, and outside the bounds of traditional justice. You are a ghost, a guardian angel just outside the realm of men, leaving only vague notions of what could have been: a newspaper headline, a five o’clock story on Radio 4, a traffic jam or a flight delay. Ignorance is bliss as they say, but you now know the dark underbelly, the secret of which is the source of bliss for so many.

You sigh and hold your hand against your thigh to stop yourself from fidgeting. The shoulders on your suit, the well-fitted tweed of our Kingsman uniform, seem to tighten as Arthur continues to stare at you, waiting for your protest.

“What are you getting at?”

Arthur laughs as he pivots in his chair and presses on the spine of a book behind his desk. Instantly, the two shelves pull forward and slide to the sides, revealing an entire wall of flat screens and holograms projecting outward. You can’t make out all the details but the lower corner contains a building schematic and the top right shows the animated, scowling face of whom you can only assume is your organization’s latest target.

“Andrej Jankovic. Former Russian operative now based in Cyprus, leading what we’ve learned is the largest money laundering ring in the world. We’ve been tracking him for months, but,” he stops talking to focus on the movement of his fingers, swiping away spreadsheets to pull up live surveillance footage of the target, “As you can see, he covers his tracks very well.”

You watch on the screen as the man sips coffee in a small café. Four different cell phones lay out before him, concealed under the newspaper through which he flips lazily as he takes in the sea just outside the window. He is younger than you expect for such high crimes, with not a wrinkle in sight upon his face. His dark hair is long and flung haphazardly to one side but his facial hair in contrast is shaven with precision, just outlining his harsh jawline. He is striking in that brooding sort of way, long Roman nose and chiseled muscles. You might consider him handsome in a different life where your mind isn’t trained to notice the harshness of his brow or how quickly his eyes narrow with disdain each time someone new enters his vision.

“He is certainly… something,”

“Killed three people just yesterday for using checks,” Arthur throws your way as if that is something to marvel.

You swallow, still not comfortable with just how common death is in your new line of work.

“He’s ruthless and calculating, incredibly thorough and uncommonly intelligent. We’re never going to catch him with paper trails alone. There won’t be any. And simply taking him out leaves the whole rest of the corrupt network up and running. We need names.” Arthur swivels in his chair so he is facing you once again, resting his elbows upon the wood of his desk with a thud. “And I think you can get them.”

“Wait, really? You’re trusting me with this?”

You feel your jaw go slack. Biggest money launderer in the world, and Arthur thinks you can handle it? These past few months have felt like a probationary period, working alongside other agents, cleaning up their messes and assisting in communications and research. Your field time has been limited to sitting in corners of crowded rooms, observing more senior agents doing the hard work.

Arthur raps his fingers against the stack of papers before him.

“I think he’ll take kindly to you. If our intelligence is correct, he’ll be most susceptible to your…”

“Charm?” you insert.

“At least more than that of any other agent,” Arthur confirms. “Now don’t misunderstand me. It is not my intention to send you out alone. You will need a partner. Consider this your last test before I set you loose, Kay.”

Arthur picks up papers before him, writes quickly on a post-it that he places on the top of the stack, and then thrusts his arms forward to you.

“You have until tomorrow night to select a partner and review this research material. The jet leaves Friday.”

He doesn’t have to dismiss you with words. The way he pivots his body back to the screens behind him is signal enough that your questions will only be addressed after you thoroughly review the case.

And so you stand and make your way back into the labyrinth of the Kingsman manor to begin to wrap your mind around your new mission.

Just as the door closes behind you, a voice calls almost directly into your ear.

“Our mighty leading givin’ you a hard time, there, newbie?”

With a shocked puff of breath, you pivot on your heels to see the broad chest and shoulders of Eggsy just inches from your face. He is reclining casually against the doorframe, his arms crossing over his chest matching the cross of his ankles, all casual and cool. The cheeky grin upon his face, showing you those pristinely white teeth, lets you know your startled response is exactly what he was hoping to see.

“You’re never as alone as you think you are, my love,” he purrs with a rub of his palm into your shoulder, stilling the jump of your body at his appearance. “Rule number one of this spy gig.”

His deft hands make calculated movement against your collarbone, each brush bringing just the tip of his fingers against your pulse point, as though trying to discreetly test how much his proximity is impacting you. Your body goes stiff at the sensation, not in fear or discomfort, but in confusion. Eggsy smiles that disarming smile of his. He leans forward, his mouth finding a place beside your ear.

“You know, I think I still have quite a bit to teach you.”

The feel of his breath combined with the gentle graze of his nails against your throat make your breath hitch, goosebumps running down your chest. You hate how clear your responses are to these sorts of flirtations and so you divert your gaze to the place where the tips of his oxfords are pressed against your shoes.

At your lack of response, Eggsy drums his fingers across your shoulder, tickling you. You laugh and pull back slightly, enough to actually take in his features: his jaw, sharp and square and his skin kissed with just a tint of sun, his blue eyes glowing with humor behind his glasses. And with that last realization, you sigh. He is right. You are never as alone as you think, especially at Kingsman, with those silly glasses recording almost every interaction for Merlin or whomever to review at their convenience.

“You know, it seems everyone thinks I still have much to learn.”

Eggsy gives you a quick slap on the back, pulling his body fully from yours.

“That’s what big boss man is on you about?” he says as he begins walking down the hall, leading you out of the offices spaces and back towards the communal agent quarters. “Ill-timed joke, then. My bad, love.”

As you turn the corner into the grand stairway, you notice the chasm between your bodies. Eggsy is two steps in front and his feet light, tossing a look back towards you as he continues his talking, as if he wasn’t just holding his body only inches for your own, running his calloused fingers across the sensitive flesh of your neck and raising your blood pressure, not just giving you dazzling smiles and teasing your earlobes with his hushed breaths. That is Eggsy, flirtation and friendship, on and off, hot and cold, and always just enough honesty in his eyes in those moments to make you question which is the act.

After a long walk through parlors and the kitchens, laughing about your dogs and the antics that came out of the latest team meeting, you find yourself standing in front of the control room with the majority of your tension about your mission lost somewhere in the depths of your brain.

“Now this is where I leave you,” Eggsy says.

You turn with a huff to your friend.

“Why didn’t you tell me Merlin sent you to find me?”

The corner of Eggsy’s mouth turned upward in that too-seductive half-smile he had perfected somewhere between you first meeting him and right now,

“You’re much more fun when you aren’t stressing about work.” His eyes scanned from your body, slow and intentional, until his gaze came to rest on your lips, now just slightly parted from his clearly heated evaluation. He smiled at your response. “Much more fun.”

You shake your head at him, always the tease.

“You really believe I would have had you laughing after Arthur had you down if your mind had also been churning on what Mr. Stoic McSeriousface wanted with you?”

You pout. Eggsy knows of your friendship with Merlin, the tech head for your organization. You know he is just trying to get a stir out of you.

But before you can answer, Eggsy moves forward. You step back and find the door pressing against your back.

“You’re going to be the death of me with that pout, you know.”

After a silent beat between you, the air growing thicker as you stare each other down, Eggsy leans forward, raising his hand the way he sometimes does to brush stray hairs from your face. But instead, his hand moves beyond your shoulder, making contact with the wood of the door. He knocks hard and heavy.

“Enjoy being bored to death, peaches,” he whispers to you before slinking down the hall.

Eggsy turns the corner just as Merlin opens the door to his workspace. You take note of his expression as he looks down the hall. It really is stoic, but when his face sets upon you, it immediately changes into something soft and inviting, encouraging even.

“Kay, glad you’re here.” He opens the door a little wider and then continues, “Come in.”

“Good afternoon, Merlin,” you say as you move into the tech space, Merlin following closely behind.

You throw yourself down on the vintage Eames lounge chair that sits in the corner of the room, placing your stack of papers on the floor as you allow yourself the joy of reclining deeply into the headrest.

Merlin pats the footrest as he passes by, inviting you to relax. He moves towards his desk, computer, and all the hundreds of gadgets that are organized upon the shelves beside.

“So, what do you have for me?” you ask as you follow through on Merlin’s request to fully recline yourself. “Details on Jankovic?”

“Yes, and no,” he says, not meeting your eyes. He takes a seat and begins typing away.

The rhythmic ping of keys give you a moment to truly observe the man before you. Merlin is a striking, almost imposing, figure in appearance. He is tall and lithe, in complete control of each moment, in a way that conveyed a refined elegance to some and a rigid intent to others. His face is a masculine stone, like a sculpture of a Roman general, piercing in its seriousness. But he brings life to the features that you love: soft hazel eyes, busy dexterous hands, and a smooth Scottish accent that makes even the sweetest words from his mouth sound husky.

After a moment, he continues on, “Jankovic has a well-trained team and multi-layered cyber systems. His security, virtual and physical, is nearly impenetrable. I do believe I have found a few exploitable flaws, almost all of which require work on the ground to hijack. If we don’t go that route, I have managed to mirror the controls for the security system at the hotel he owns in Limassol, so I will be able to be of assistance once you land.”

You stand and move beside his desk. He has months of logs, meticulously organized and color-coded and tabulated, certain sections highlighted in red, denoting times of lower security or routine system upgrades. His work, just like him, is precise and detailed.

You lean down over his shoulder to take in the schematic of the hotel, several floors of suites and an entire rooftop entertaining space. Your mind conjures images of the ocean and soft sand beaches that are visible just below, the salt air and the setting sun filling your slowly numbing senses as you sip on your second cocktail and a stunningly handsome man runs his hands down your spine to the soft of your back.

But the strong scent of cedarwood and bergamot that you know to be Merlin bring you back to the present. Or maybe it aids in the fantasy. When he reaches over to rest his hand on your back, pushing you forward slightly to watch the tiny dots he is pointing at with his other hand, you know where your mind got those ideas in the first place.

“I’ve discovered some patterns here that I think we can exploit, unless of course you decide making your presence known to the target is a better option.”

His fingers never leave your back as he speaks.

“Stealth or charisma,” you muse, “Just like a video game.”

“If so, your video games are quite limited,” he laughs. His fingers slide across your back as he rolls his chair to the other side of the room. You feel the absence most acutely.

“I’d hope there’d at least be some intelligence or combat in these skill trees of yours.”

His fingers run over the lock in the shelving. You hear a click and then the draw opens to reveal a pristine case containing three weapons you have yet to see, each encased in foam and glass like priceless works of art.

“Perhaps some lock-picking?” he turns and offered you a smile.

“I’ve definitely maxed out my luck, at least,” you say with a tilt to the draw of weapons, each more beautiful than the next.

“And enchantment, if I may be so bold,” his words are to the drawer of weapons and not your face, but your mind fills in his devastating lip bite and the thought has you melting and feeling the shyness creep over you.

The silence hangs between you two as Merlin flicks the lock on each case.

Finally with a deep breath, he says, “My latest prototypes. You’ll need all the protection you can get on this one, Kay, so take your pick.”

“Can’t I take all of them?”

Merlin turns and shots you a look so deadly, you feel the air leave your lungs.

“And risk you losing all my hard work? Never.”

His eyes are piercing yours, wearing you down, but you try your best to hold your ground.

“I’m quite trustworthy, Hamish,” you say with a gentle bit of your lip.

“First names, now? You jest, my dear,” he says with a narrowing of his eyes that let you know he likes the words more than he wants to admit. “Now pick.”

You feel the weight of the weapon in your hand, bouncing it a little to get comfortable.

“This one. I like this one,” you say finally.

Merlin shuts the drawers and turns to you. “And it likes you, too, Kay. Very fitting.”

You can’t help but smile at his praise. Eggsy is wrong, you know. Merlin isn’t so much serious as he is careful about his work. You enjoy the lightness he shares with you, even if it is intercut with professional talk.

“Thank you, Merlin,” you say as you holster the weapon and grab your papers.

“You’re welcome.” Merlin’s head already back in his computer and typing away.

As you reach for the door, he calls you once more.

“And Kay?”

You turn to offer him your full attention and are struck by how serious he looks, the hard lines of his face all completely turned to you and his chin dipped in a soft reverence that you hope is reserved for you alone. His voice takes on that husky quality as he breathes out the next words.

“I know you’re a little overwhelmed right now, but you are among us for a reason. You’re a capable agent, Kay. Please don’t forget that.”

For a man who often shrugs off sentimentality, he manages to find just the right words to build you up and make you smile. You feel a tiny wave of pleasure course through you, easing a bit of the weight from your shoulders.

You watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. With a curt nod, the sweetness of the moment lost, he returns his eyes to the screens beside him.

You sit in the study, the fire roaring beside you, as you pour through each meticulous document that Arthur gave you. Just skimming these papers alone is going to take you all the way to your flight and then some, and that doesn’t include the time you need to devise a plan, select a partner, and prep for execution. But none of those other things can happen until you wrap your mind fully around your mission. And if that means sitting here well into the morning, transcribing and memorizing and organizing, then that is what you are going to do.

You hear the clink of porcelain upon the table beside you. A mug of tea is now perched among your discarded notes, the steam cloud in the lamplight.

“Thought a pick-me-up might be in order,” Harry, your mentor and fellow agent, says above you as he moves to the other side of the room, carrying his own mug and his own papers, though his take the form of the news, several morning editions stacked together, a few in languages in which you weren’t aware Harry had proficiency.

With the flick of his wrists, Harry opens the top paper, but unlike his usual routine of reading through the headlines and major political scandals, Harry turns towards the back, folds the paper in half, and pulls out a pen from his jacket pocket.

You take a long sip of the tea he provided you, and are pleased to discover it isn’t his usual nighttime blend but a proper English brew, one that will provide you enough caffeine to get your through this work. If Harry is anything, it certainly is thoughtful.

You work in silence for fifteen minutes or so, Harry’s long legs elegantly crossed as he relaxes himself against the couch. He drums the end of the pen upon the tuffs of the Chesterfield. You can’t help but think about how, in the past six months, you had already fallen into a pleasant routine with these men you called your colleagues. Lunch with Eggsy, briefings and shooting practice with Merlin, and long nights, just like tonight, sitting beside Harry and working in companionable silence. With Harry, words are rarely needed. He is a man whose company creates an aura of calm that penetrates even the most intense of moments. The few missions on which you have accompanied him were smooth, efficient endeavors; they left you feeling confident and poised even by comparison to arguably the most poised man you have ever met.

“Attractive, eight letters, third letter is most likely a ‘g’,” Harry asks into the air.

You lift your head from a giant list of innocuously named shell corporations to consider his question.

Engaging? Magnetic?

“Hmmm,” he muses, scribbling upon the paper, “Thank you, darling.”

You only get a few more minutes of silence before he is piping up again.

“Unstable, six letters, last letter ‘y’.”

Wobbly? Flimsy? Shifty?

“Perfect,” Harry whispers over his swift pen strokes. The roar of the fire by now was dying down, the pleasant crackle of embers scenting the room in hickory and smoke. You find yourself fighting the exhaustion that is coming over your body at the sheer comfort of your company and the ambiance the room provides.

Not thirty seconds pass by before Harry is calling your way once more.

“To proceed, four let-“

“Harry, are you trying to distract me from my work or is this crossword collaborative?”

Harry folds the paper shut and places it firm upon his lap. His eyes shift upward slowly, from your feet to your eyes, pausing upon the stack of papers spread out around you on all sides before he finds his way to your face. Harry’s lips curl into a soft smile, one that is made all the more precious by the way the fire’s reflection upon his face. He rubs at the bridge of his nose as he debates his words.

“I wouldn’t call it distracting as much as helping,” he finally decides, picking up the paper as he takes soft steps towards you.

Soft, that is the best word to describe Harry. Gentleness and patience and softness are what you associated with him most. Sure, you have seen his skills, watched him turn into a ruthless hit-man as the situation called for it, powerful and strong and confident. But the instant the bodies laid still before you, Harry’s steps grew light again. As he reached out his hand in serenity, kindly lifting you to your feet, brushing debris from your hair and asking in a whisper if you are safe.

“I’m not so sure how not doing my work is going to help me do my work,” you say as Harry pulls the footstool out beside you to sit. His back is perfectly straight despite the lack of support and you wonder if you body would ever be trained with the same precision as the seasoned agents you so admire.

“You’re thinking too much,” he says. He sits the newspaper down on top of your papers, covering up all your notes and drawing your focus to the absence of notes on his actual page. Nothing exists in the boxes, only in the margins and you notice how peculiar it appears.

“See, darling, this is you right now, taking each individual note and trying to assess it alone. If I went bullet by bullet through this crossword puzzle trying to figure out what it meant by every single word clue or question mark, I would have half the puzzle wrong.”

Harry is leaning over the newspaper now, his head awfully close to your own. The fluff of his brown curls are brushing lightly against your forehead. Despite the tickling, you don’t pull away.

Harry’s voice is low, requiring you to lean in. He wants this proximity. For what purpose, you don’t let you mind assume.

“Some clues like this one,” he says, pointing to 20-across ‘Author Silverstein,’ “Are easy to solve without context.” His hand moves to write the first bit within the puzzle: ‘shel.’

“But others,” he moves his pen to point at 4-down, ‘To proceed,’ and the three words he has written beside it: sail, toil, and till. Somehow his brain did the puzzling work of realizing long ago that the ‘l’ in ‘shel’ was the necessary fourth letter. “ Others require much more context.”

“And even still, some may seem to require context,” he says, pointing to the clue, ‘display of glee,’ which had nothing scribbled beside, “But actually require none at all, just experience and foresight.” And with that note, he moves quickly to the tiny space to which the clue corresponds and without checking anything else, writes ‘jig’ in large, bold, capital letters.

“Now how do you—“ you went to protest, but Harry interrupted you.

“Because it’s always jig. I know it could be ‘hah’ or ‘lol’ but it isn’t. It is always jig. There aren’t many other ways to get ‘j’s into the puzzle. Do a few crosswords and you don’t even have to finish reading the clue. That and emu. And Nave. V’s are tricky buggers, too.”

You sigh, “But I don’t have the experience to see the ‘j’ and the ‘v’ in our spy work yet. I just see the Silversteins and the capitals of France and the 2017 Best Picture winner.”

Harry’s hand reaches out to rub against your knuckles, comforting and supportive, “But, darling, you do. Every puzzle has a theme. Every target has his preferences. Find what is distinctive, what is rare. Trust your gut to see what doesn’t fit, what needs to be there because it can’t exist any other way. “

Harry lifts up the newspaper, revealing your workspace once again. He links his fingers with yours as he allows his free hand to run along the stack of papers before you.

“Scan,” he says, slow and emphatically. He lifts the stack like a book and flicks, one page each second with a satisfying click and swipe.

The first few pages go by with a blur. By the tenth, you are pulling out only a handful of words, though those words seem to make a story anyway: Ancoria, Konstantinos, $9,999, Ltd.

“Stop!” you say upon the sixtieth page or so. Harry’s hand grips yours a little tighter, sending a warm jolt down your spine. You see him smile out of the corner of your eyes at your apparent discovery.

“What do you see?” he asks, his shoulder brushing yours as he leans in. The rough wool of his jacket brushing against your bare arm is a pleasant contrast to the smooth skin of his palm that still pressed firmly into your own.

You use your free hand to point to the third transaction line.

“All the previous shell companies had Greece mythology names. Scylla, Nyx, Calliope. But this one is Roman: Decima. At least I think it is,” you bit your lip a little realizing this may be a stupid thing to call out, “But even if it isn’t, it doesn’t seem right. This also seems to be the only shell company for which we have names of the board of directors.”

Harry takes his pen and circles Decima with three big spins. He underlines each of the names listed on the board below and pulls the paper out of the stack and up to the top.

He draws his hands away from yours to close the pen and collect your stack together once more. He plops the newly assembled stack before you and makes to leave you. But as he stands with one knee against the footrest upon which he had been sitting, he hovers his body over you, his proximity doing little to help with the already intense heat of your skin from the fire. He leans forward and grazes his lips gently upon your forehead. As he pulls away, his hand finds your chin and he meets your gaze.

“That’s my girl,” he says with a smile before turning and walking swiftly out of the room, his newspaper abandoned to your pile.

With a renewed vigor, you dive deep into the papers, determined to see the odd inconsistencies that might provide context for the more common practices. As you continue to sip on your tea, you notice the cup had refilled and rewarmed itself. You never heard Harry enter the room at all.

The following morning, you wake with the sun. Little sleep had happened in the past day but you feel refreshed regardless. The long hours you had put in the night before resulted in quite a bit of relevant information and three distinct methods for tackling Jankovic, each with its merits and its challenges. But you are feeling confident for your meeting with Arthur, at least you were last night. This morning, you need to eat your breakfast and review your notes before providing your supervisor with your planned course of action.

You lift yourself from the plush comfort of your bed, the biggest benefit of spending the night at the manor, and walk towards your desk, which now is a much more organized collection of research: three distinct piles with three hand-written mission plans upon each.

You pull the blanket along with you, cocooning yourself as you sit at the desk and review your plans.

The first is a traditional approach: the honey-pot. In Andrej’s personal history, he has displayed a clear preference for your physical features. And even more, he has had no steady partners, just a series of lovers, all of whom were affiliated with other men simultaneously. In your time at Kingsman, it had already become clear that the type of people you took down got enjoyment out of breaking more than just the law.

Eggsy is the perfect partner for this plan. His flirtatious personality and social skills mean he can easily convince a group of people that you are a couple. With the gala at the hotel on Saturday, all it would take is a little skin and some well-placed winks on your end for Andrej to want to tempt you away from your handsome partner. And while you entertain Andrej’s attentions, Eggsy would be open to sneak into the depths of Andrej’s personal estate and gather what information was needed to take him down. Sure, this plan puts you right in the belly of the beast and therefore in the most direct line of danger, but it also gives you the best chance to adapt to new information and go with the flow.

The second plan is significantly less risky but requires more planning. A covert invasion of his security detail and hijacking of his automated banking systems would provide you all the information you needed to tear down the entire network. With Merlin’s mirror, you could cut down power to the hotel, sneak into the basement offices undetected, and bug and download what you needed. With Merlin, this plan could be flawless, with you using your combat background to take down the guards and his tech skills ensuring a full system overhaul without a trace. You would still need to get into the hotel, and the gala would work as a good cover, but unlike the honeypot, your goal would be to blend in as much as possible. It may not be the most glamourous plan, but it would certainly be the most efficient, and not to mention the most intimate, sneaking through darkened corridors and keeping as close as possible to avoid detection.

And finally the third plan would require approaching Jankovic directly, posing as British investors seeking to hide funds overseas, hoping to utilize Jankovic’s existing network to hide quite a bit of money quickly. And you’d be willing to pay for the services. You need credentials, as Andrej is a skeptical man, but he is also not the type of man who can pass up a quick cash opportunity. You could approach him at the gala, enquire about his services, and find out much from the horse’s mouth, supplementing what he tells you with the information would be able to mirror from his phones once you had him in the room with you. And in this, Harry could truly sign. A master of the art of blending in among the oddest of crowds, Harry could easily pose as the financial head of your organization, partners in crime in the truest sense. You wouldn’t have to steal anything in this plan. Andrej would give it freely, though it would require near perfect coordination between you and Harry.

As you add notes to the margins of your stacks, you look over at the post-it Arthur left on your files yesterday: Regroup noon, tomorrow. If you don’t leave now, you will be late. You throw on yesterday’s suit, scoop up what papers you need and rush to Arthur’s office.

The door is open when you arrive and Arthur is seated upon one of his couches, cutting into a perfectly roasted chicken breast as he beckons you forward.

“Discover anything useful?” he says after a swallow. He lifts his cloth napkin to his lips and waves out the door behind you. Pushing past you, his assistant cruises inside and grabs his plate with a nod before leaving.

Arthur waves a hand to the seat in front of him. You take your sit and go to speak, but before you can say a word, Arthur lifts a finger.

“Before you run me through the details, whom should I request be joining us for this briefing?”

“Um…”

And that’s a wrap for the prologue! Please let me know in the comments which route you’d like to me to work on first. :)

All tags: @fangirlandnerd, @aerdnandreaa, @thisisbullshytt, @cancerousjojian, @whovianayesha, @themarauderstheoutsidersandpeggy, @luna-xxxxx, @sleepylunarwolf, @starryrevelations, @potter-thinking, @all-by-myself98, @bananafosters-and-books, @cutie-bug, @igotmadskills, @hazelandcoconuts, @yallgotkik, @amberkay284, @the-new-galahad, @13ofjuly, @daft-not-punk

Kingsman tags: @allonsymexgirl, @eiensteiner, @thecaptainsgingersnap, @madamcadaver. @doct0rstrange, @ratwrites, @kaeleabres, @nellietara, @ediblemurderer, @allofthekingsmen

Harry Hart tags: @un-education, @lexicon04, @bananzaa, @consultingdoctorwholock, @sparrowharkness, @newconnorwhodis

Merlin tags: @consultingdoctorwholock, @sparrowharkness

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purplesurveys · 3 years

Text

1142

survey by tickticktmr

Do you have a digital camera? What color is it? No, haven’t held one in years. The last digital camera we had was a bit of a magenta shade; it actually belonged to my sister but I borrowed it occasionally.

Did you like the movie Juno? It was ok, though to be honest I’ve mostly forgotten what it’s about. I remember fairly liking it but it’s not the type of movie or genre I’d rewatch.

Name something you think is way over-rated: Big Macs, which I’ve never found tasty.

Do you remember your first friend? Yes, it was a girl named Kaye that I sat with in preschool. She didn’t stay too long in my school, so I haven’t been able to reconnect.

Would you rather live with your mom, dad, a friend or on your own? On my own.

Name something your pet(s) like: Walks.

Do you listen to country music? No, I don’t.

What does the color white remind you of? Peace, serenity, doves, minimalist homes.

What show/movie/song makes you cry every time? Show: From Brooklyn Nine-Nine - either the episode where Rosa Diaz comes out as bisexual or the episode where Terry gets racially profiled.

Movie: La vita e bella.

Song: There isn’t one song that makes me cry 100% of the time, but I suppose Why We Ever by Hayley Williams had this effect on me for a time.

What was your last fight about? I spilled a drop of our dinner’s soup on the dinner table last Thursday and my mom did a sufficient job making me feel incompetent and a dumbass about it, so I was hurt by it and didn’t speak a word for the rest of the evening. Not really a fight, but y’know.

Do you text a lot? I used to not but anymore. I usually get prepaid for LTE now, not to have credits for texts.

Have you ever been screamed at by a teacher? Many times. A number of them didn’t like me for whatever reason...

Do you smile or scowl more? I definitely try to smile more, but idk for sure if that’s what I do more frequently.

Obama or Bush? Idk, maybe Obama? Considering we were colonized by the US at one point and imperialism remains to linger in my country, I generally don’t take kindly to any US president, though.

Batman or Superman? I don’t like comic books.

Are you excited about Blink 182 getting back together? I don’t follow the band so I’m not sure how recent or relevant this news is, but generally speaking I don’t remember ever being stoked for a Blink-182 comeback in particular.

Would you rather be a teacher, a stripper or a hairdresser? I’d go with teacher, and preferably of history, so that I at least can have an hour or so to talk about my passion with other people lol.

The last person you spoke to: how many times have they made you cry? Just once.

What's your favorite kind of gum? The classic bubblegum flavor is fine with me.

Have you ever failed a class in school? Just exams, but never altogether an entire class that required me to retake.

Are you even in school? No, not anymore.

Are you taller then your best friend? No haha, I’m slightly tinier than both of them.

Are you scared of spiders? I’d be scared probably of the larger kinds, but all we get here are the super small spiders so this isn’t an issue for me for the most part.

You can't eat anything ever again except for jello or apples: which one? Probably apples. I cannot stand the texture of jelly/Jell-O, and I guess I can move past my dislike of fruits for this situation since apple is kinda decent anyway.

Have you ever cheated on anyone? No, never man.

If you answered yes to the last question, do they know about it?

Do you paint your nails often? I never do and I never have them done either.

Mascara or lipgloss? Er lipgloss I guess, since I literally don’t care how my eyelashes look.

Who’s the last person you called? I think it had been Denise, a co-worker.

Describe the last person who sent you a text: It was just the delivery guy who brought Ysa’s gift to my place, so I don’t know enough about him to be able to give a sufficient description.

Do you ever watch TV shows or movies on YouTube? No, because for the most part they would be high- or low-pitched, in a tiny screen, sped up, zoomed in, or altogether fake. I also don’t understand why buying movies individually on YouTube is still a thing when Netflix exists for literally cheaper.

Myspace or facebook? Uh Facebook, I guess.

How old were you when you lost your first tooth? I was around 5 or 6, I think.

Have you ever embarassed yourself in front of someone you like? Yeah. But when I started dating them, fucking up in front of them became less embarrassing, of course.

Describe your hair right now: Wet and slightly dripping since I just stepped out of the shower.

Do you like it when it rains? Yes, it’s my favorite weather.

Does anyone miss you right now? I hope my friends do...but I can’t say for sure.

How many funerals have you been to? None. Just wakes.

Where's your favorite place to hang out? Depends on the vibe I’m feeling for the day and the company I’ve got.

Have you ever laughed so hard you peed in your pants? Oh gee, never.

Do you like video games? What's your favorite one? I was raised around video games and so much of my childhood was watching my kuya, dad, and a number of my uncles completing games, so I definitely hold a big appreciation and fondness for them. I never inherited any skills of my own though lmao, so I mostly watch walkthroughs; and the only video games I’ve ever met considerable progress on are Nintendo games marketed for all audiences HAHAHA.

Have you ever worn something your parents wouldn't approve of? Yeah I’ve gotten chided by my mom a handful of times, telling me to cover up with a jacket or something. But her reasoning was always men, so I’m usually able to defend myself and say that that’s not my problem and that’s something fucking men have to deal with themselves. We both know I’m right so she ends up begrudgingly letting me go out with whatever outfit I choose on that given day.

Where are your sibling(s)? They are in their respective bedrooms.

When's the last time a friend got dumped/dumped someone? September. That friend was Gabie and the dumpee was me hahahah, does that count?

Do you celebrate Valentine's day? If I have a significant other, yeah. I like keeping our activities lowkey though because from all my past experiences, malls and restaurants tend to get fully booked on February 14 and it ends up being more of a (very crowded) hassle than a celebration.

Do you celebrate Christmas? Yep.

Does it snow where you live? Never.

Have you ever wanted a pet unicorn? I never did, actually.

Would you like to work to earn money, or simply have money given to you? The latter is obviously the ideal situation, but I recognize the importance of hard work too and constantly working on my skills.

If you could be on any game show, what one would it be? Jeopardy or Family Feud.

Do you know anyone whose famous? Yes, at least locally.

Do you read those gossip magazines? I used to, lol those were my guilty pleasures back then. I still keep up with celebrity updates, but I’ve moved to social media now. I also filter which publications I consume and avoid the tabloid-y ones like Daily Mail.

Summer or winter? I’d go with winter so that I can actually experience it for once.

What do you hear right now? I’m watching an archived Facebook livestream of a senior citizen who had held a virtual piano concert to raise funds to afford his maintenance medicine. The media ate it up like crazy and it’s since gone viral, so I was able to I read about him earlier tonight. He reminds me so much of my late grandpa so I quickly searched for the finished concert on Facebook and now I have it on :)

When's the last time you saw a cousin? Around two weeks ago.

Where were you the last time you left your house? I can’t remember exactly. I think I went to Feliz...OH OK I remember now - I originally went to the nearby SM to handle an LBC delivery for work, and to stay at Starbucks for a few hours also to work. After that I went to their vape stall to buy new pods but they didn’t have any for the vape brand I use, so I went to Feliz as well to try my chances there. They ended up having a few flavors but not what I usually get, so I decided to try a new one - grape lol.

Describe the room you are in: Dark, filled with the lovely sounds of piano music, and the faint smell coming from my scented candle. Overall, light and peaceful.

What shoes did you wear today? I wore my Onitsukas when I walked Cooper this morning.

#survey #surveys

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a-trainers-tale · 4 years

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Nyz paid request

:: nyz :: Hello!! I would like to request for a paid pokemon trainer description!! I'm sorry in advance for the long messages that are about to ensue but I hope they can give you a clear depiction of who I am and will make your decisions easier and more precise!! uwu I'm a 20yo Leo girl who's studying Biomedical Engineering and Arts (with an English major!!) in Syd. I used to be a guitarist in a high school band and am in general more of an independent individual than a leader/follower. 1/8

I'm a shy person but some of my friends say I exude a quiet confidence HAHAHHAH. Other ways my friends/family have described me include: smart, kind, awkward, cute, determined, hardworking, creative and being a happy virus. I generally do well in my studies and am particularly good in Physics and English! However my flaws include: being too playful at times till it accidentally gets someone hurt, usually running late, having terrible mood swings and being a lil too competitive at times 2/?

(esp towards my younger siblings unfortunately) and being extremely indecisive! I love writing but I have a problem of keeping within word limits. I love spending time with my dogs, being up early and generally don't mind waking up early but I like my mornings quiet and calm as I enjoy my breakfast hahahhah. I tend to work out quite a lot and particularly love cycling! I generally spend a lot of time in my room but I love fun social events like parties and weddings (I'm not sure why??). 3/?

I love cartoons/animated films a lot idk why but they give me a sense of relief from all my stress and they just make me feel good after watching them?? I also love creating random customized stuff like designing a birthday cake for my brother or creating a specialty dish for Mother's Day. Things I don't like include: loud noises, inconsiderate people, snails, being looked down upon, judgemental and close-minded people, presentations in front of large crowds and chocolate (sorry!!). 4/?

Some aesthetics of mine include: the colors of fall, the smell of freshly brewed coffee and freshly baked bread, glass/transparency, deep ideas, hugging a dog (most furry animals), being in the middle of a bustling city, the serenity at dawn, wrapped up in your blanket watching your favorite tv show at night, getting work done at a cafe, hugs, nyc apartments and theme parks. 5/?

My favorite food include pumpkins, Marie biscuits, cereal, artisan bread, almond milk, eggs with runny yolks, tomatoes, brocolli, mushrooms, bibimbap, sashimi salads, deli sandwiches, bruschetta, prawn dumplings, tiramisu, tangerines and flat rice noodle soups. My favorite books include Looking For Alaska by John Green and the Fire and Flood series by Victoria Scott. My favorite movies are Pitch Perfect (1&2 were good but 3 was kinda disappointing), 6/?

The Devil Wears Prada, Wreck-It-Ralph, Inception, Enchanted, Kiki's Delivery Service, the new Jumanji movies and Little Women. Fandom life is a big part of who I am hahhahah. My favorite TV Show is Friends (cliche ik) but also some animated series ahahhahh. The reason I love Pokemon is probably bc it was a significant part of my childhood and the nostalgia just brings me back to those times when life was simpler(?). Also I ADORE the creativity and thought behind each Pokemon/character and 7/8

how it has created such a vivid, imaginative and yet not so farfetched world for the audience! The fact that it still has such a large and active following also makes me feel connected to a lot of people somehow :) Being a Pokemon trainer has always been a dream of mine for sure!! :') Thank you so much for taking your time to go through this! I apologize in advance for the length and hope u know you're making one of my childhood dreams come true in a way uwu Have an amazing day!! 8/8

Trainer class: Fairy tale girl

You walk to the beat of your own drum, but in a somewhat subdued way most of the time. Onlookers might think you to be a bit eccentric but also a bit quiet. In battle, you can be ferocious and emotional but also playful and excitable. You love inserting creativity into your daily life and you love being able to see the best in all pokemon. You have a lot of energy and can come across as being somewhat childish when you are in a playful mood, but when you are feeling more studious you can be an intimidating level of intelligence. Your quiet and playful nature can seem contradictory to some who don’t know you, but your pokemon have come to be able to read your moods quite easily and adjust their own behavior accordingly. You have a very fun relationship with other trainers you have bonded with and you have a very fun life with your pokemon who support you in everything you do. You cook with your pokemon often and you explore new hobbies and interests with them on the regular. You also love to escape into worlds that aren’t your own, so you consume a lot of creative media and chase after intellectual pursuits that suit your interests quite often. Your pokemon love you as a trainer but their also love you as family and would do anything to protect your playful smile and inquisitive mind.  

Starter: Eevee

Your starter pokemon is Eevee. Eeevee is a very unique pokemon and a notoriously indecisive pokemon in the ways that it can evolve. Eeevee is inquisitive and a perfect fit for your excitability. You and eevee are a wonderful match for exploring and learning new things together. Eeevee will never judge you and will always stand by your side when you need it and when you want to have fun. Eevee has a lot of energy, so you might end up spending a lot of your own energy calming it down enough to go to bed at night. Eevee has many different ways of evolving, so it will be a challenge to get it to land on one, but earn its trust and it will love you forever. 

Partner: Mareep

Mareep is a very soft pokemon, both in the emotional sense and in the physical sense. You will want to wear gloves of some kind before rubbing Mareep's fur too much, but regular snuggling is welcome and safe. Mareep is a very kindly and considerate pokemon and, if treated well, will grow into Ampharos who is able to act as a guiding light for travelers and lost people and pokemon. Mareep acts as a comfort for you, though it does not participate in any battling that you do since it is somewhat faint of heart. Keep it close to you and it will help you keep calm and support you in return.

Team: Sylveon (starter), Celesteela, Zebstrika, Exploud, Phanpy

Hometown: Circhester, Galar

Your hometown is Circhester in the Galar region. Circhester is a somewhat large town that a lot of tourists move through. It is a historical town full of statues and buildings that have been around for a long time, but it has also kept up with recent trends enough to not seem old. Circhester is home to the Hero’s Bath, which is the pride of the town. From growing up here, you learned a lot of history and you have learned a lot about all of the people who have lived and moved around in Circhester. This gave you a natural curiosity and an interest in learning more about other people and about what it means for pokemon to be strong and for a trainer to be brave. Circhester gave your interest in bonding with people and also gave you your warm aesthetic sense.  

Battle style: Playful and intimidating

You are quite a rambunctious trainer and tend to go your own way. You prefer the paths that look less traveled, quite literally. You will find yourself lost sometimes, looking for places to find interesting pokemon you haven’t met before or interesting people. You are the kind of trainer that one would run into deep in the corner of a forest lifting rocks to try and find something interesting. Your inquisitive mind and high level of playfulness makes you a very fun person to battle, as long as you aren’t in a competitive mood in which case you can be a fierce and emotional opponent. You have been known to yell and get very into battles, which spurs on your own pokemon and tends to act as an intimidation factor for your opponent’s. You are a strong and independent rival to many other trainers who started at the same time as you, and you compete with them not only in battle but also intellectually and in terms of the knowledge you have accumulated in your travels. You want to find new things to learn but you also dive deeply into new things that interest you, so you have a lot of knowledge about a lot of things pertaining to pokemon and the people around you. You connect with trainers who you battle with, and so you have a large amount of numbers in your phone for people who want rematches or who want to tell you new things they learned. Your energy spurs your pokemon on during battle and brings you new connections with pokemon and with people, never lose your passion and always allow yourself to let lose during battle so that you and your pokemon can have as much fun as possible.

#pokemon #nyz #pokemon trainer #pokemon request #exploud #eevee

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mactuna · 5 years

Text

ђคгɭєץ ợยєєภ

↠ summary: jisol isn’t the only who got run over by the gossip train... and in the process, she learned a lot more than she was ever supposed to... (lmao this is such a trashy summary!!)

↠ idea: jungkook x oc!! bts mafia au!! kpop universe!!]

↠ part 1 [] part 2 [] part 3 [] part 4?

“I’ll bring you your stuff later, ok sis? Just please don’t trip on yourself if you see Han Jisung. Please.”

“For the last time! I DON’T LIKE HIM!”

“Sure sis… you definitely don’t have a sketchbook of drawings of him.”

“You can stop talking now!”

The two had arrived at Jeongmi’s new room, because college dorms were way too expensive. And lucky for her, there was a Min Jisol who was looking for a roommate.

“I’ll bring your stuff around later, ok?”

“Ok… bye!”

But in his defense, Jungkook believed he had the right to be worried about his little sister. Because he was pretty darn sure he knew exactly how her roommate was: the infamous Min Jisol of Daegu Town High School. She was the girl that everyone warned you about. It was obvious she smoked because she always coughed as if she had smoker’s lung and could literally collapse at any given moment. And Jesus Christ, she always smelled like goddamn alcohol! She always seemed as if she had tried to get the stank of alcohol off, but in the end she miserably failed and the smell basically radiated off of her. But of course, can’t forget that she was always late and skipping class. The problem? She never got in trouble for it. To top it all off, she graduated as valedictorian. Combined with her popularity amongst the boys for her looks, it was no surprise when the gossip train tooted about Jisol sleeping around with the administration to get straight A’s. Hence, she was basically the queen of the school in all aspects. Despite all the obvious warning signs, people loved her. Earning her the nickname, Harley Queen.

But Jungkook was barely any better and he knew it. His reputation wasn’t exactly spotless since he hit high school. Puberty had treated him very kindly, earning the attention from all the girls within the school district. Especially at sport competitions. And every so often, a girl would ask to speak to him somewhere quiet. Alone. Like a lost lamb, he would follow. He never did anything, didn’t even touch them, yet the gossip train tooted that Jungkook had a knack for quickies and breaking the girls’ hearts once he was done with them. Because of this one fact, Jungkook had begrudgingly agreed to let Jeongmi room with Jisol. Maybe she was just another victim of the gossip train, just like him. Or maybe it was just his grudge against her for… a number of reasons.

“Ok… bye Jungkook!”

“I’ll bring your stuff up in like, two hours ok?”

“Uh-huh. Goodbye!”

Obviously, Jeongmi was super embarrassed that her brother was basically dropping her off at her first apartment. And she didn’t want to make a bad first impression, so she did everything in her power to shoo him away. But as soon as the door opened, Jeongmi was shocked by the girl’s beauty in front of her. All of her doubts disappeared into thin air and she found herself bowing awkwardly.

“Hello, my name is Jeongmi. It’s really nice to meet you!”

But Jisol was already busting a lung with laughter.

“You are so cute!! But anyway, you don’t have to act so formal around me. We’re roommates now Jeongmi. As you probably know, my name’s Jisol and welcome to the apartment!”

Despite having only met once or twice, Jeongmi already felt the bond forming between them.

“Do you need any help bringing your stuff up or anything?”

“Actually, my brother is bringing up my stuff in a couple of hours.”

“Girl, that’s honestly sibling goals. My brother would tell me to suck it up and be independent like all the girls in the world preach about.”

But now, Jeongmi was confused as hell. How in the world did Jisol have such awful rumors circulating about her? She was honestly one of the sweetest, most wholesome Jeongmi had ever met. But for Jisol? She was just over the moon that there was someone who was willing to give her a clean slate and actually get to know her. Not try to kiss up to her just so she could be referred to one of the guys. The reason everyone thought she was a slut was that most of her friends were guys. Mostly because the other girls at school were entirely too judgemental. And super bitchy.

“Feel free to explore, Jeongmi. Lol, you don’t have to be so nervous. You kinda live her now?”

And Jeongmi was like, why the hell does it literally smell like freaking daisies? Smoker’s lung, my foot! There wasn’t even the slightest whiff of smoke or alcohol anywhere. That’s when the knock came faintly. Which Jeongmi barely heard.

“Hi, I’m Jungkook, Jeongmi’s older brother. I came to drop off her stuff?”

Already, Jungkook was gaining attention from the neighbors. Mostly because the apartment was a hot spot for college kids who couldn’t afford or didn’t want to live in a dorm.

“Unnie, do you mind if he comes inside? Because there are literally people crowding the hallway just to stare at him. And it’s kinda gross?”

“Yeah, of course! Come on in.”

See, Jeongmi was totally clueless to the history between Jungkook and Jisol. They had been rivals at everything, all the way up until high school. But that was a different story. Sighing, Jisol let him in, promising herself to be civil for Jeongmi’s sake, if not hers.

As for Jungkook, he was surprised to see the two three-star black belts hanging in the open closet and the sheer amount of beat-up medical textbooks on the kitchen table.

“Do you want anything to drink?”

“Uh, no. I’m good actually. But thanks.”

And he was 100% surprised at how well Jisol was keeping her cool. Taking the heavy box from him, Jisol gave Jungkook a tight smile.

“I can help Jeongmi unpack if you have somewhere you need to be.”

But Jisol knew that look in his eyes all too well. There was no way this could be the apartment of the Harley Queen, right? There was no way that the Queen would actually be reading and studying to get good grades, right? She had to be hiding the booze somewhere, right? The drugs? The weed? The cigarette packs? And Jungkook understood the tone of dismissal in her voice all too well.

“Then I’ll be going then. Bye, Mi!”

But as Jungkook made his way down to his car, he couldn’t but think of the little collage of Jisol’s baby pictures on the wall. One of them was of the two of them holding hands as they crossed the street. Groaning out loud, Jungkook looked towards the sky.

“STOP BEING IN MY LIFE MIN JISOL!!!!!”

Why was his life so intertwined with Jisol’s?!! On top of already being entangled with every aspect of his life, why was she his ex-girlfriend from preschool too?!! He thought he’d erased his memory of her a long time ago!!

When Jungkook got back to the house, he wasn’t surprised to find Yoongi watching TV on the couch.

“So… how did it go?”

“I mean, Jeongmi seems to really like her, so I guess that’s all that matters.”

Shaking his head, Yoongi sat up straight.

“But I asked what your thoughts on Jisol are?”

“She’s… a lot different from what I expected.”

“How so?”

“She seems a lot more… put together than everyone takes her for. There’s not a single trace of cologne, smoke, drugs, or alcohol in there. I honestly have no idea how the hell these rumors formed about her. She seems really nice.”

“Well… she has changed a lot since high school ended. Plus, the rumors are mostly my fault. But I thought you were-”

“What are you talking about, hyung?”

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, Jungkook. However, this story isn’t entirely mine to tell, so it’d be a tad unfair if she weren’t here to explain the entirety of the situation.”

“But-”

“No.”

Grumbling, Jungkook made his way to the shower. He knew where he stood among the seven guys as the youngest: at the top. But when it came to Yoongi? That was all null and void.

“YAH JUNGKOOK-AH! JOONIE HAS A MISSION FOR YOU, JIMIN, AND TAE!!”

Jin yelled through the door, banging on it to disrupt the peace of the hot, running water.

“Ok hyung! I’ll be out soon! BUT YOU BREAK THAT DOOR I SWEAR-”

“BYE!”

But why was Tae coming on this mission? That almost never happened. He was the one who usually stayed back to work the comms and get all the inside info that was necessary to send to whoever was out in the field. But if he was coming, Joon-hyung’s mission for them had to be insanely top priority if Tae was coming out to play. 10 minutes later, the boys were seated on the floor in front of Joon.

“Does everyone here know Song Yuri?”

“Yeah. We’re all in the same biology class.”

“Well we just found out from our spy that Yuri is actually the heiress of the Ahn Empire in Daegu.”

“Wait… aren’t they the ones-”

“Who created a memory implanter and have passed down some secret through generations, using it?!!”

“Yes, that one. And if everyone else knows, then everyone is going to be gunning for her. She’s dating one of the NCT boys so we have to be careful. From what we know, she’s close with all of the NCT boys so we have to be careful. The reason I chose you three is because you have a subconscious memory of Yuri’s behavioral patterns So please bring her back alive. Got that?”

“Yes hyung.”

“Good. We’ve also got word that it’s one of the Dreamies’ birthdays today so they’ll be vulnerable. I will take the other hyungs to take them out, ok?”

“Ok hyung. See you later!”

________________________________________________________________

A/N: OKAY YAY PART 1 IS DONE OF THE BLOOD UNIVERSE SERIES!! lmao idek if i actually want to turn all the “books” of this series into the same universe but we’ll see:) btw i literally just fangirled so hard in the car when dream glow came on LOL!

↠ part 1 [] part 2 [] part 3 [] part 4?

#jungkook x oc #bts mafia au #jeon jungkook imagine #jungkook imagine #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #HOLY CRAP DREAM GLOW IS SO GOOD!!!#sope #namjin #bts #bts x army

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coeurdastronaute · 5 years

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Essays in Existentialism: Halloween

"my kid unknowingly tricks or treats at your house and it turns out he's wearing the costume of the character you're famous for playing in film/tv" thank you for the great stories!:)

The street was absolutely inundated with people. All shapes and sizes and ages and levels of joy ran up and down, ringing doorbells and shrieking with joy. Cobwebs hung from palm trees while tall hedges were riddled with skeletons and gigantic spiders and all manner of monsters and creatures.

While the streetlights burned bright orange, different houses had different noises mingling with the joys of the kids and their parents trying to keep them from running all over and into everyone. Parties littered the block, with Monster Mashes and ghoulie songs wafting through open windows and doors and pools.

It was purely orchestrated chaos, driven by kids and the fun that came in a little fear.

“Do we have to do another block?”

“Yes please!” a little voice responded, happily tugging on a hand, carefully lugging a much too full bag of cavities.

With a sigh, Clarke took the first few steps toward the new block while her five year old practically skipped in search of more food.

“We shouldn’t have come to Grandma’s neighborhood. It’s so big,” Clarke complained.

“But Gramma’s friends give out the big candy,” Maddie argued, proving her point.

The real reason they were trick-or-treating in the opulent neighborhood across town was that Clarke had just got off work, and Grandma was babysitting, but her daughter didn’t have to know that. At any point she could, Clarke tried to make the struggle seem effortless. It was a losing war, but she won some battles, even if it meant schlepping up and down long driveways and up and down long blocks of giant mansions.

Her daughter was happy, and that was all she needed.

“This is the last one, and then we’re going back to Grandma’s house. Grandpa will check the candy while we take a bath.”

“I can eat all of my candy?”

“You can eat two pieces.”

“Five pieces?”

“Two.”

“Fine,” her daughter sighed, adjusting the helmet that sometimes slid into her vision. “But you guys can’t eat it all like last year.”

“We won’t,” Clarke lied, standing back as the little astronaut from her favorite movie ventured forward to another door.

Very slowly, as the made it down the final street, the crowds inevitably thinned as dusk settled and the darkness came out more clearly. Wearily, after over sixteen hours in the ER and another one trudging around, the porches graced Clarke with the escape of being out of candy.

“Looks like we’re all done,” she smiled, swinging her daughter’s hand. “Did you have fun? Feels like you got a lot of candy.”

“That one! We still can go to that one,” Maddie pointed to the house on the corner as they finished their loop and tried to return home.

“We don’t--”

With a tug, the precocious little girl was on her way across the street, and her mother could do nothing but agree, because it was ending soon.

The decorations were minimal, but an effort was made. The pumpkin on the front porch was hand-carved and had a very poorly fitting stem, and misshapen eyes, but the house itself was gorgeous. Slowly Clarke followed up the walk while her daughter skipped ahead, eager for her favorite phrase.

“Trick or treat!” she squealed, just as excited the final time as she’d been at the first door.

“Well, this is incredible. You look like--”

“You! You’re… you’re… MOM!” Maddie shrieked just as Clarke climbed the few steps. “It’s Commander Flare! MOM!”

“Okay, don’t yell,” Clarke chided the hopping girl.

She smiled and prepared herself to apologize until she looked up and met very familiar eyes. The problem being only that they were familiar because a certain DVD played non-stop in their house about a badass space crew and their adventure across time and space. A global phenomenon, it was slated to have a sequel in a few months already. Maddie wouldn’t understand what it meant that Lexa Woods was currently smiling at the miniature version of her character, but Clarke sure as hell knew that a megastar was handing out Twizzlers.

“Commander, it is an honor to meet you,” the actress clicked her heels together and saluted, immediately at attention.

Maddie did the same, her hand bumping the large dome around her head as she misjudged how to hup to.

“How has your mission gone tonight? Lots of candy?”

Kindly, Lexa bent down near the little girl, appreciating her costume and smiling at the idea of seeing a little person dressed like herself. It wasn’t that the movie wasn’t particularly meant for kids, but it had some scary aliens in it. Clearly, this one was a badass.

“Yes ma’am, Commander Flare, sir. Are you on a break from your missions to the stars?”

“I am,” she nodded, quite seriously. “Are you thinking about joining Light Force when you get older?”

“I’m already five, but my mom said no until I’m at least nine,” Maddie explained, casting a look back at her mother just to confirm that she still couldn’t enlist for a fictional army unit based in deep space.

“Hmmm,” Lexa nodded, meeting the stranger’s eyes once again, her face changing slightly before it returned to the little girl. “I think your mom is right. But I promise to put in a good word for you. What’s your name?”

“Maddie,” she chirped, all smiles and dimples. “Maddie Finn Griffin.”

“That’s a strong name for a space explorer. Do you eat your vegetables?”

“Sometimes.”

The actress looked over the little astronaut for confirmation and gave her a wink.

“And do you brush your teeth?”

“All the time.”

“And do you help people whenever they need it?”

“Yes.”

“Do you listen to your mom and dad no matter what?”

“I listen to my mom. I don’t have a dad.”

Slightly taken by surprise with that answer, Lexa furrowed for a second and regained her composure after sharing another look with the amused mother who instantly went into panic mode. To think of her daughter and the situation Finn left her with… it was sometimes too much.

“Well, that still counts,” Lexa promised, deep and honest. “I’ll send my report along to Fleet Commander.”

“Mom! Did you hear that? I can go to Mars!” Maddie smiled, her own jack-o-lantern smile of missing teeth glowing brighter than any other that night.

“When you’re nine,” Lexa reminded her. “In fact,” she whispered, “I think twelve is the cut off, but I’ll try to pull some strings for you.”

“Would you? Promise?”

“Of course,” she nodded, finally standing up. “It’s nice to meet a fellow explorer.”

“Thanks for… that,” Clarke nudged her head toward her daughter who stared intently at her hero in the flesh. “I’m Clarke.”

“Lexa.”

With an extension of her hand, the actress made Clarke come into the light on the porch to shake it, and she faltered slightly when she realized what she was looking at. For a moment too long, they shook hands, holding onto each other while looking back and forth into each other’s eyes.

“I swear, we didn’t know you lived--”

“No, no, I know,” she dismissed it, finally letting her hand drop. “It’s Halloween. I haven’t see a better one of my costume though. Did you make it?”

“It’s her favorite movie. I could do it from memory with how many times we’ve watched it.”

“Wow,” Lexa nodded, looking once again at the little girl who pushed up her visor to look at her with a toothy grin. “Maddie, would you mind taking a picture with me? I’d love to show the rest of the group.”

“Can I, Mommy?”

“If you want,” Clarke nodded.

Instantly, she earned approval, and Lexa picked up the five year old and fished in her pocket to hand over her phone.

“This is the best night of my life,” Lexa sighed contentedly.

“Count of three say cheese. One, two, three!”

The chorus rang out and Clarke snapped a few different ones before Lexa put her daughter back on the ground.

“I know your mom might get mad at me for this, but…” with another wink, something Clarke was becoming incredibly angry about because who in the hell actually did that and how in the hell did it actually work, she slide the rest of her candy bowl into Maddie’s waiting candy bag. “You’re not only my last customer, your my best one, and my trainer will thank you from stopping me from gorging and watching monster movies.”

“What do you say?” Clarke prodded as her daughter leaned back against her, happy and bashful and overwhelmed and tired.

“Thank you, Commander.”

“You, are very welcome,” the actress offered with another salute. “Be good out there.”

“Yes, sir!”

“Thank you for this, seriously,” Clarke sighed. “I can’t imagine a better ending.”

“If you want, I could send you the picture, and you could have it, for her or you, or whatever,” Lexa offered, the mysterious bravado she had when performing for a five year old all but dried up. She scratched the back of her neck and swallowed, avoiding Clarke’s eyes until the last minute.

“Yeah, yeah, of course, I’d love that.”

“Cool, cool,” she nodded, fiddling quickly with her phone before handing it over for Clarke to enter her information. “So you live in the neighborhood?”

“My mother does,” Clarke explained. “We decided bigger houses meant bigger candy, and I just got off work.”

“I thought it was a costume,” she grinned, nudging her chin toward Clarke’s outfit.

“Nope, I’m a doctor over at General,” she nodded, embarrassed slightly by her dark scrubs. “Busy day today, so I came straight from work.”

Maddie busied herself staring at the actress and rummaging through her own candy bag in search of her five treats she would have after her bath. Clarke handed back the phone and Lexa glanced at it before smiling.

“Must be nice to have a built in back up plan.”

“Doesn’t hurt,” she grinned.

“I can’t imagine.”

An awkwardness settled between them, and neither really knew how to address it, so they blushed and cleared their throats and shifted their weight back and forth.

“Mommy, can Commander Flare come home with us?”

“Yes, can I?” Lexa smiled, wide and innocent.

Clarke found herself stuck with two sets of puppy dog eyes and no real defense against it.

“The Commander has a busy night and monster movies to watch. Maybe another time.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” she taunted.

“You have my number,” Clarke shrugged. “Come on, baby. Say thank you again.”

“Happy Halloween, Commander,” Maddie waved as they made their way back into the street and the remaining stragglers from the river of exhausted trick-or-treaters.

“Happy Halloween,” Lexa waved back, empty candy bowl in her other hand as she watched the most peculiar twosome walk away, and suddenly feeling very different about it.

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peccolias · 6 years

Text

Carousel (aka Recipe for Disaster)

Naruto OC fic

M rating for coarse and crude language, substance abuse mentions

Humor

~2k words

Take one young and shameless flirt with a new lease on life and nothing to lose. Combine with every poor shmuck unfortunate enough to live in Konoha. She’ll spend the world right ‘round, and ‘round, and ‘round. OC Rebirth fic.

(WIP preview under the cut)

The girl was well-mannered.

Perhaps a little off-color at times, but charmingly so. Enough that people laughed at most of her jokes, anyway.

Not entirely memorable, but with the kind of face you could recognize in a crowd. A little plain, but her bright and colorful personality made up for it.

Her name was—

The scrawling pen stopped. Pushed a bit too hard on the paper—splattered shiny black ink across the page.

Tōmei cursed under her breath and tried to wipe the wet splotches of ink away with the side of her hand—panicked, and too late realized that only made the mess bigger. “Fuck! Shit! I just wrote that!” She picked up the entire notebook and held it aloft in both hands, flapping it around in the air, trying to get it to dry before ink dripped elsewhere.

Not such a great idea.

Her writing space wasn’t the cleanest area—just a cushion and a low table shoved up against a wall, really, with several books, opened and closed, strewn around the floorboards. One of those books had the gall, the sheer audacity, to grab her by the ankle and trip her up.

The notebook flailed in the air—arms pinwheeled as her body arced and she tried to correct her balance. “Wait! Wait wait—stop!”

No such luck.

She fell on her butt, hard, and hissed through her teeth before just dropping flat against the ground and releasing a whoosh of breath.

Another book dug into her back—she didn’t mind it, much. It pressed into the spot just on the side of her spine that twinged with a persistent pain leftover from a poor and unpracticed attempt of dealing out the smack down to a teammate with a German suplex.

The notebook had fallen, scattered, pages folded, wrinkled, against her arm.

Well, it was a shitty start to the story, anyway. And stories were kind of her thing—she had to raise the bar a little. Challenge herself. Break outta the comfort zone. Check in to Narnia.

She closed her eyes and ran her hand across her face, letting it and the long sleeves of her red sweatshirt rest across it heavily, fingers massaging her forehead. Hiding her bloodshot, sleep-deprive eyes visibly shadowed even through her olive-tan skin. Laying on the floor wasn’t that bad, really. Maybe she’d just stay there forever. Never get up. Never go outside. She’d spend the rest of her days as a shut-in. She’d lay there so long, in fact, that her body would grow into the dusty floorboards. Melt together as one.

Her nose wrinkled at the thought. “Sorry, I don’t ship that.”

No—she had to get up. Because a knock sounded outside the door.

She craned her head sideways against the floorboards to see a shadow swaying vaguely on the other side of the sliding door panel.

“Tōmei-chan!” the shadow called. “Are you home? I brought what you asked for.”

Ah, what a sweet voice. The voice of a friend. A savior in her time of crisis.

She tried to get up—moved too fast, felt a sharp jerk as her head spun like a wild Beyblade, wheezed, and collapsed again. Back onto the book that dug into her back, and this time not too kindly. A groan left her lips as she shimmied away from it until the floor was flat beneath her. As it should be.

“Yeah, uhhh, I’m gonna need you to let yourself in. Door’s unlocked.”

The latch released—the door slid in its tracks to reveal the upside-down face of her good ol’ reliable friend, Nohara Rin. Rocking those burgundy thigh-highs and a fashionable bob haircut, which hung around her face in a curtain as she stared down at the other girl in full dismay.

“Jeez, you’re like an old lady. How long have you been down there?”

“If I’m old, I sure as fuck have fantastic and supple skin for my age,” the girl shot back with a toothy grin—canines, a bit too sharp, incisors slightly crooked. Because, no matter how you looked at it, the two girls were no older than twelve. Not even teenagers yet—but in their terrible pre-teens. Right on the cusp of puberty and crushes and unrequited first loves and growth spurts and trips to the corner store to sneak peaks at the porno mags.

Although for Tōmei, it wouldn’t be her first rodeo.

As always, Rin’s thin, shaped brows furrowed together at the crass language—she was a proper lady, for the most part. Only cussed when she was good and pissed. Which…never happened. Not that Tōmei had ever seen—and she’d seen a lot of the girl. They attended the Academy together, some few years ago. Weren’t on the same genin team, or chūnin squad, but remained mutual friends through some weird twist of fate.

The purple marks on her cheeks creased slightly as she grimaced. Then allowed a tolerant smile as she held out a hand. Just one, because the other held a pouch filled to bursting with sweet, sweet meds.

Tōmei reached for it and grabbed on tight, bracing herself as the other girl hauled her into a sitting position. Almost got to her feet, until the stabbing pain returned. This time, through her skull. She let go immediately and fell back onto her ass, gripping her head in her hands. “Ow, ow ow… Think you could hand me one of those amazing painkillers you brought first? Pretty please?”

Rin’s patience knew no bounds. She pulled her hand back and opened up the bag—pink, like Tōmei requested even if it was off-hand—and retrieving a round ball that looked for all the world like a determined dung beetle’s pièce de résistance with the way it reflected the lighting, but in reality was a specialty health pill. A lesser version of the ones issued to shinobi in combat, because she was pretty sure those were laced with something not-so-legal, especially for kids. These were over-the-counter grade. Perfectly legal. Because abusing narcotics was bad and should never be done, ever. Ever.

Not that she’d complain if Rin had access to a surplus of soldier pills, but she had to take what she could get.

She tossed the pill her way, and Tōmei watched it trace a perfect arc through the air before landing in her mouth. She crunched it with the full force of her teeth, without mercy. Crushed it into powder to leech its power—those precious acetaminophen particles that would morph into tiny loyal knights and beat the pain beasts into submission. Her eyes shut as she released an elated sigh. “You’re such a doll, Rin. Thank you. Thank you. You’re a goddess.”

“Don’t thank me, just don’t forget the cake you promised in return,” Rin replied with a half-smile, tilting her head just slightly to the left as she observed her friend. “Do you want me to check you?”

“You can check me out any day.” Tōmei shrugged, massaging her temples as she waited with bated breath for the effects to kick in. She held out a hand, palm-up. “Gimme another. Just for precaution.”

Rin reeled back, clutching the medicine bag to her chest, a frown marring her face as she tightly buttoned the flap closed. “You know it’s one a day. You promised! Don’t make me drag you to the hospital. Although, Taji-sensei would love a new patient.” Seeing the easygoing grin that settled onto the other girl’s lips as she let her hand fall away from her face and rest against the floor eased her worry. “…Don’t joke like that, Tōmei-chan. You know I worry.”

“You don’t have to worry ‘bout me. Headaches kinda just happen. The back thing was an accident, though…”

Rin heaved a sigh—a bit dramatic. Maybe her presence was rubbing off on her. “Sometimes I think we’re only friends because I’m the medic.”

“No way! No way—c’mon, who else would I take early morning jogs with so we can ogle our shapely fellow athletes as they pass us by? Remember when—” she lowered her voice into a not-so-quiet stage whisper, cupping her hand to one side of her mouth. “Remember when we saw Minato-sensei with his shirt off?!”

Rin’s face tinged pink—only briefly, before she pinched the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes shut. “Don’t say that out loud ever again. You might slip up and mention it around Kushina-san. That… I can’t imagine what would become of you.”

Tōmei shrugged, but her expression had glazed over. “He’s such a mild guy. I never knew he had a six pack. ‘Yellow Flash?’ More like Yellow flash me.”

“Puberty is going to be an awful time for you, Tōmei-chan.” All she could do was shake her head in pity.

“Mmm, probably.” A decidedly catlike grin overtook her face as she looked directly into her friend’s eyes. “Buuut you can’t tell me you don’t try to catch Kakashi’s shirt slip up a little when y’all’re training.” After dropping that bomb, she casually examined her uneven, bitten fingernails, eyebrows raised.

It didn’t faze her. “Oh, please. You’re the one constantly speculating on random women’s bust sizes. Shameless ogling is your area of expertise.” Her sweet smile remained. “A shame, really. If you applied that kind of passion to your studies, you could have passed at the top of our class, too.”

Tōmei flicked a booger in her general direction, earning a shriek.

Rin tossed the medicine pouch toward her and turned on her heel with a huff, feigning irritation. “Well, I have to get going. Medical lessons.” She stopped as she neared the door, throwing a concerned look over her shoulder as her friend remained on the floor. “Let me know if you have any more problems. And remember—one per day.”

“Doctor’s orders,” Tōmei saluted as she pushed herself to her knees and then rose to her feet, back ramrod straight, before half-jogging to the door to see Rin off. “And the cake you asked for should be ready tomorrow.”

Humid air blew in through the door as soon as she opened it—a bit chilly, but not chilly enough for the thick red sweatshirt zipped all the way up to the girl’s throat. The full-length, black leggings, much less. Her bare feet pattered along the flat expanse of dirt as she followed her to the road, waving her arm in a large arc as she waved her farewell. “Tell Obito I saw him in a dream last night, if you see him!”

Rin smiled—tensely—and shook her head as she returned the wave, though much less enthusiastic. By now, she’d grown accustomed to her friend’s wily, crude behavior—but it was still embarrassing when she spouted it in public.

Tōmei set her hands on her hips as she watched her friend depart, proud that they’d reached the point in their relationship where she could honestly shoot down her facetious request. Then, her attention promptly drifted to a passing civilian man wearing extremely tight pants, and in that moment all that existed in the world was that finely sculpted derriere—

A steady stream of icy water splattered against her face, hitting her right cheek and splashing across her nose, stray droplets sparkling in the morning sunlight as the rest soaked her from the shoulders up. Her mouth dropped open as she dragged her horrified gaze to the side to see a particularly exhausted individual eyeing her with tired disdain. He also held a water hose in his hand, which innocently hydrated a potted plant on the windowsill. Like it didn’t just drench her.

“I see you’ve upgraded from the spray bottle,” Tōmei observed with no hostility, hands still on her hips, though rigid. Clinging tightly to the fabric of her jacket’s waistband. “But I told you, I told you, Kakashi, I’d wear a white T-shirt if you didn’t cut that out!” She gripped the waistband and yanked it upward in one swift motion to reveal the hem of a white shirt, which crawled up along with the sweatshirt and revealed a good bit of her stomach as she pulled it up over her grinning face—her coup de grace. But backfired. The shirt fell down into place again, dry and covering what it was supposed to, but the sweatshirt—not so much. Not with a fully-zipped zipper, still bunching the neckline at her throat. It remained stuck at her chin no matter how hard she pulled, legs bowed and braced against the earth as if it would give her the strength she needed.

“You are so embarrassing.”

She gave another tug at the sweatshirt before giving up and dropping it, letting gravity drag it back down her torso. Like her pride, her hair, a dark brown—almost black, especially when soaked—didn’t escape unscathed, either. Flyaway strands stuck out in every direction, especially from the braid pinned at the back of her head with a clip. Inversed, with the thin tail end sticking straight up from the back of her head like an antenna. Skewed, because of the struggle. Sticking to the right a little more than usual, wilted.

With as much composure as she could muster, she straightened the antenna and smoothed down her jacket, sticking her hands into the pockets on either side of the zipper. Looked away—down the road, watching a few neighbors mill about—before she snapped her head toward her immediate neighbor and feigned a gasp, hands splayed in front of her mouth, eyes wide.

“Oh! Morning, Kakashi. Didn’t even see you there!”

He sighed, audibly. The mask covering his face didn’t even muffle it.

She waited a moment, wondering if he would return the small talk, and shrugged when he didn’t. Not a talky one, that kid. “Anyway, those plants are growing great! Don’t you know the girls—and boys, too—love a guy who can raise a garden?”

The hose splashed her full in the face, this time.

“I—I didn’t even try to make that an innuendo! It was a genuine compliment!”

Such was life, being the unfortunate and long-time neighbor of Kamiyama Tōmei.

#peccolia writes stuff #i wrote this some few months ago when i was hmmm probably on some kind of high if you can't tell #and i think it will be a specific shipfic and i'm feeling obitoOC but OCxObitoxRin would be fun too #so would a strictly rinOC fic though #it's the last fic i have planned that doesn't have ideas i can just combine into the others #it might be an episodic one-shot series but it will definitely be humor-focused #but anyway here have this i'm trying to distract myself from stuff #and naruto is the perfect thing for that

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jadorehale · 6 years

Text

just dudes being bros

I found this deeeeep within my computer folders. I remember writing it in 2016 while the anime was airing and then not liking it but I just did a quick read and ehh it's not the worst thing I've ever written {ao3}

Figure Skating News: Five-time world champion coach, Victor Nikiforov, and protégée, Katsuki Yuuri, share friendly congratulations peck at Cup of China.

The Daily Mail: 7 Things You Need to Know About Victor Nikiforov and Yuuri Katsuki’s Gold Medal Friendship!

People Magazine: Spotted: Victor Nikiforov & Yuuri Katsuki snuggling closely on ‘bros date’ at Barcelona’s most romantic restaurant!

ESPN: Yuuri Katsuki chimes in on why relationship with world-famous coach, Victor Nikiforov, has been a success! “Victor and I make love multiple times a day,” the figure skater says. These two seem to be the best of friends!

❄

“How come it doesn’t bother you that the international media is still portraying our relationship as platonic? Do you even care?”

“No. Not really.”

“But they’re refusing to take our relationship seriously!”

“So?”

“And all those weird pictures they print of us making out, they keep calling them ‘friendly embraces.’”

“Well, our mouths are great friends at this point.”

“Victor!” Yuuri whined with a pout.

“Yuuuuuri!” Victor sang back, grinning.

While it was true that Yuuri was most adorable when he was angry and riled up, Victor sure wished that Yuuri would put all that fire into preparing for his competition instead of looking up pointless crap to get upset about on his phone. Today was the day of Grand Prix Final free skate and no one knew more than Victor how badly Yuuri wanted that gold medal. As his coach, Victor’s sole focus was on making sure Yuuri’s body was one-hundred percent ready for his program. Which was why he really needed Yuuri to focus on stretching and warming up.

However, as a boyfriend, it really irritated Victor to see Yuuri concerning himself with the silly tabloids that were being written about them. Victor had no idea what Yuuri wanted him to say about the issue or if he was just seeking out validation for his indignation. In truth, Victor didn’t give a crap. If you’d asked him a year ago if he’d ever imagined him and Yuuri becoming an item, he would’ve said no. He’d never dreamed he could be so lucky to be in a relationship with Yuuri, who he’d been head over heels for since the night they first met. So, it was quite difficult for him to care about any negative things people had to say.

“But aren’t you the one who loves attention?” Yuuri stressed. “If the press caught wind of how it really is between the two of us, it would be a media frenzy!”

“Well, short of Phichit Chulanont, the paparazzi are the second best photographers in the world.”

He grabbed the phone from Yuuri’s hand and scrolled through the article until he stopped on a photo of the two of them leaving their hotel, fingers laced together as they shielded their eyes from the sea of flashing cameras.

He held the photo out to Yuuri and said, “Look, how cute! We should have it framed!”

Since he was about to skate, Yuuri didn’t have his glasses on and had to squint to view the photo clearly. When he finally did see the shot that Victor had been raving about, his face fell and he sent Victor a flat look. “Victor, you’re the only one that looks good in this picture.”

“Exactly!” Victor beamed. Someone should’ve told Yuuri that he had a big, fat booger hanging from his nose and spinach in his teeth before he’d been photographed. That person probably should’ve been Victor. But Victor always managed to look like a model in candids, flashing the crowd his signature wink as he casually flipped his hair. “Who knew there’d be such talent in a group of professional camera-holding stalkers.”

Along with his now ritualistic pre-game cry and cuddle session, Yuuri had developed an unhealthy habit of googling nasty things being said about him on the internet to get revved up. For anyone else, this action would seem conceited and egotistical. But for Yuuri, seeing how much people hated him and were attacking him for stealing Victor from the sport online made him even more determined to succeed and show the world that only he could satisfy Victor. It was ridiculous, and absurd, and Victor would be putting an end to it once the Grand Prix Finals were over. However, he wasn’t about to halt anything that could potentially help Yuuri in his fight for gold. But, Yuuri had read enough offensive, anonymous, cyber-bullying comments for one day.

Victor tossed the phone over his shoulder without bothering to see where it landed and ignored Yuuri’s outraged cries. He got a firm grip of Yuuri’s knees and drew them down toward his chest, stretching out his hamstrings.

“My phone screen had better not be cracked!”

“Uspokoit'sya! Don’t worry. You have an Otterbox case. They’re indestructible.” Victor glanced back and saw that a crowd of people were now trampling over the phone, kicking it along as they went but felt no dire urge to chase after it. “No more news headlines,” he told Yuuri sternly. “We need you in the zone for your free skate. Now, give me fifty sit-ups.”

Groaning loudly, Yuuri did as he was told, exercising his abdominal muscles as Victor anchored his feet. It was amazing how far Yuuri had come under his tutelage. Not that Yuuri needed Victor in the first place. He had more than enough potential and talent to do this all on his own. For Victor, it was an honor to watch Yuuri flourish into such an impressive skater. This was the most fun Victor had ever had in his career. Far more enthralling than his own successes. He lived to surprise the masses, and if there was anyone that could shock the world with such a strong comeback after placing dead last the previous year, it was Katsuki Yuuri.

“Twenty more, little piggy,” Victor instructed, proud when Yuuri continued without complaining.

On his last one, he leaned forward and crashed his lips against Victor’s which was a very welcomed surprised. Victor hummed when the kiss turned bold, parting his lips as Yuuri’s tongue licked obscenely into his mouth. Positive reinforcement was important to Victor as a coach and Yuuri deserved a reward for his good behavior.

He’d almost forgotten they were in public until he heard, “Look mommy! Those boys are in love!”

Pulling away, Victor turned and saw a little girl gawking at them with wide eyes and pointing a chubby little finger in their direction. She couldn’t have been more than four-years-old and was so darn cute that Victor was seriously contemplating kidnapping her. She tugged on her mom’s skirt, demanding her attention, and pointed again for her mother to see when Victor closed the distance and placed a soft kiss on Yuuri’s cheek.

“Honey! Haven’t I told you it’s so rude to point!” Her mother quickly swatted her hand down, blushing from severe embarrassment as she began to explain, “They’re not in love. It’s just a good luck kiss between coach and skater. It happens all the time. No way notorious playboy Victor Nikiforov is off the market.”

Victor didn’t need to see Yuuri’s face to know that his expression had darkened. He already knew Yuuri wouldn’t take kindly to that sort of remark and that he’d be furious. The media was always spreading falsehoods. Victor was not a notorious playboy. He was very much the monogamous sort.

The woman looked over at them, cheeks a bright red as she waved. “We’re rooting for you, Katsuki Yuuri! Longtime fan, Mr. Nikiforov. Can I just say that you’re so much sexier in person! Hope to see you back next season!”

She fluttered her lashes seductively and blew him a kiss before flouncing off with her daughter, not at all aware of the damage she’d just wrought. The little girl was still wide-eyed as she was dragged away. It seemed like she hadn’t believed a word her mother had said. Smart girl. Her young curiosity made him smile, reminding him of how he once was as a child. All those long, long, long, long years ago...

With a deep sigh, he turned back to Yuuri, already flinching as he caught the hard set of Yuuri’s jaw and the burning rage behind his eyes. He failed to hide his amused smirk and earned himself an impressive lethal glare.

“Jealous?” he asked.

“You know damn well I am!” Yuuri scowled and hopped up onto his feet.

He turned his back to Victor and continued warming up, running back and forth. His shoulders were tense as he jogged and he was muttering to himself bitterly. Victor moved closer to listen, trying to decipher just what was being said.

“So, it’s not just news reporters, then,” Yuuri was grumbling to himself. “It’s the general public as well. Is it that hard for people to believe that Victor and I are in love? That Victor would want to be in a relationship with me? I need to remember that the outside world only gets to see his good looks and it is I who gets to see the true beauty of his heart. It’s his love shining through that has helped me improve the most. We have something special and amazing and if people can’t see our love then I’ll just have to make them feel it by winning the gold medal!”

“Awwwwwww!!” Victor gushed. Yuuri was seriously the cutest. He just had to hop on top of him and squeeze and hug him tight. “What an adorable internal monologue. Tell me, is this how you always talk in your head?”

“Get. Off. Me!” Yuuri picked himself up from the floor and brushed himself off.

Victor frowned, pressing a lip to his finger as he tried to figure out how to get back into Yuuri’s good graces. No one would think from just looking at him that Yuuri was such a high-maintenance partner. A part of him loved that Yuuri was a huge drama queen, quick to get jealous over Victor and feel the need to stake his claim. But another part of him couldn’t stand the thought of Yuuri being upset or insecure.

The petulant glower on Yuuri’s face didn’t look like it would be going away anytime soon, which wasn’t ideal in this specific circumstance. The judges definitely wouldn’t find it as cute as Victor did. He was preparing to get down on his knees and beg for forgiveness when Yuuri grabbed him by his very expensive tie and yanked him down to his level.

For a moment, Victor thought Yuuri had only pulled him this close so he could clobber him, but like always, Yuuri took the unexpected route. Which naturally made it impossible for Victor to predict what he was thinking as he began sucking a large bruise on the side of Victor’s neck.

Just as abruptly as Yuuri had grabbed him and reeled him in, he curtly let him go. His face flushed as he avoided Victor’s eyes and stammered, “T—There. That way no one else will be throwing themselves at you. They’ll know you’re mine.”

Victor couldn’t help being extremely delighted by this display and his brain quickly devised a plan. “Hmm, I really don’t think just one will do…You should put one over here too.”

Feigning innocence, he pointed at another spot on his neck, arching so Yuuri could mark there.

“How about here! And here! Oh, there’s good too! Also, here! Da, there too

“Jesus Christ, Victor!” A voice cried. A voice whose owner was just so happened to be flamboyantly Swiss.

“What’s happened to your neck?! Don’t tell me this is some kind of career-ending injury,” Chris gasped. “I don’t think I can make it through another competition season without you.”

“They’re love bites!” Victor presented proudly, showing off the fresh marks littered across his skin. “From my Yuuri.”

He noticed Yuuri trying to slink away and flee the scene of the crime. But before he could go far, Victor locked an arm around his waist and hauled him back to his side. That way Yuuri would have to own up to his work. What he’d done to Victor’s neck was nothing short of a masterpiece. He’d truly left his signature.

Victor turned back to Chris, elaborating, “See, my Yuuri’s very upset that the media isn’t taking our romance seriously.”

“Ah, yes! I’m afraid they’ve done the same thing with my bisexual Bernese Mountain dog, Hans,” Chris commiserated, pulling out his phone and showing them an article on his pooch written by The Inquisitor. “Completely erased his sexuality to fit into some toxic heteronormative box. I showed him a picture of Maccachin and he was absolutely smitten! We should get them together and see if they hit it off. That way, we can be…”

“IN-LAWS!!” Victor shrieked at the same time Chris did.

They squealed excitedly, jumping up and down as they chattered away about wedding plans. They discussed where Hans and Maccachin would vacation on their honeymoon. Victor had heard Fiji was lovely this time of year and Maccachin, the groom-to-be just adored laying out on the beach. He was a real beach bum with expensive tastes and only enjoyed the finest cuisines. He was a lot like his owner in that way.

In the midst of his conversation with Chris, Victor noticed Yuuri from the corner of his eye, slumping and staring down at the floor.

“Oh, Yuuri, don’t think too much into the media thing,” Chris said, reaching out and pinching Yuuri’s left butt cheek. A trick that was very effective in removing that sad, dejected expression from Yuuri’s face, replacing it with scandalized one. “News reporters can be so oblivious sometimes. Only seeing what they want to see. Every skater here knows how in love the two of you are. You’ve got tons of teenage girls on social media ‘shipping’ you. They’ve named you…Victuuri!”

“Victuuri? Eh!! Why does Victor’s name get to go first?!”

“Because I’m the one that fell in love first!”

“Please, not that again,” Yuuri sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Don’t start that argument here before I have to skate. I already told you, I’m sorry I didn’t remember that night!”

“You completely wounded my pride!” Victor harrumphed. “I can’t believe you don’t remember our dancing!”

Chris snickered then declared, “Maybe it’s good that the media doesn’t take you guys seriously. The world already hates you for hogging Victor as your coach. Men and women everywhere will hate you even more if they find out you’ve stolen his heart as well. You’re a very selfish man, Katsuki Yuuri. Adieu!”

With one last ‘good luck’ pinch to Yuuri’s exquisite rump, Chris sauntered off, rejoining his coach and the rest of his entourage. Which left Victor and Yuuri to return to stringently readying Yuuri to take the ice. Sure, it might seem like they were going a little overboard but they were both aware of how important it was for Yuuri to nail every jump in his routine and execute his presentation perfectly.

On the outside, Victor exuded nothing but positive energy and optimism, but on the inside, he was a nervous wreck. He worried that Yakov might be right. That he wouldn’t be able to pull off this massive victory his first time as a coach. It would kill him if, for some unfortunate reason, they missed the podium. Victor didn’t want to lose the opportunity to pair skate with Yuuri at his gala exhibition. And poor Yuuri; what would become of his spirit if he failed? Obviously, Victor wasn’t going to let that happen, but what if it did. He refused to let Yuuri take any of the blame. He’d take full responsibility as his coach.

Victor watched Yuuri silently lacing up his skates, not liking how solemn and morose he was so close to his free skate. It was often difficult for Victor to get into Yuuri’s head and figure out what was going on with him. Which was a telling sign that he was a terrible coach. After all, this was it! Potentially Yuuri’s last performance before he retired from figure-skating. Though, if Victor had his way, Yuuri would never retire. Still, it made sense that Yuuri would be in such a mood being on the brink of making history.

“Have I really stolen your heart?”

Victor’s head snapped up sharply. “…What does that mean?”

One day in the future, Victor hoped Yuuri would stop asking him such provoking questions. Even though they both spoke fluent English—their best common language—Victor planned on purchasing Rosetta Stone. That way he could learn Japanese and finally understand Yuuri. It was evident that he wasn’t speaking English well enough. Not with the way Yuuri was constantly doubting his love.

Yuuri’s voice was barely a whisper as he fiddled with his thumbs, not looking up. “I mean, will I get to keep it forever?”

“Of course.”

Victor wasn’t remotely surprised when Yuuri huffed and rolled his eyes. “How do you know?”

Victor shrugged. “I just do.”

“But how?!”

Exasperated, Victor placed a hand on his hip. “What’s gotten into you? Why the sudden mood swing? Is it the news outlets? Because them not acknowledging that we’re together doesn’t mean anything. Listen to me and not them! I refuse to live without you. I won’t stand for it.”

“But what if after I retire, I let myself go and gain a ton of weight? Or what if we lose our romantic spark and you get bored of me? There’s nothing exciting to keep you here. What if in a couple of years, you wake up and realize this was a huge mistake? I’m a terrible nag and at the same time a giant hypocrite. I’m messy and horrible at cleaning up after myself. What if all we do is fight and bicker and you start to hate me? I majorly lack self-confidence. What if that starts to annoy you too? Me always doubting myself can be a hassle. Hell, I’m doubting myself right now!”

Victor opened and closed his mouth a few times, gaping like a fish. Yuuri had some nerve trying to convince him to stop loving him. He stepped forward and leaned his forehead against Yuuri’s, cupping his cheek. “I think you already know nothing you come up with will change how I feel about you. Am I right?”

“But—” Yuuri protested.

“Nothing,” Victor repeated firmly.

Yuuri peered into his eyes for a moment longer, eventually giving up and sagging his shoulders. “I believe you.”

Yuuri inched closer, his long lashes fluttering closed as he went to give Victor a kiss. But before their lips could meet, Victor stopped and asked, “What about me?”

“Hmm?” Yuuri blinked multiple times when he opened his eyes.

“Will you always love me?”

“Of course!” Yuuri snorted, waving it off as an unserious question then tried to kiss Victor again.

Victor evaded his lips. “Even when all my hair turns gray?”

“Er…um…” Yuuri squirmed uncomfortably, distress in his eyes as he fumbled for the right words. “How— How do I say this? All your hair is already…um…gray...er…silver…?”

“What?!?” Victor cried, his mouth falling open as he reached up and tentatively touched his hair like he was noticing this for the first time. He kept the act up for a couple of seconds before throwing his head back and laughed at how scared Yuuri looked, then dodged a punch to the arm when Yuuri realized he was being insincere.

“I’m just kidding,” Victor snickered, “And my hair is platinum, not gray. But on the subject of getting older, my mother’s side is prone to male pattern baldness. What if the thin spot on the top of my head gets bigger and all my hair falls out? Or what if I don’t age as well as I’m expected to and forget to use under eye cream at night and develop crow’s feet? What if I have to get Botox, or worse, a full facial reconstruction! Will you love me with a new face? What about my fashion sense? What if I lose that too and start walking around in mix-matched patterns and socks with sandals? Will you still love me if I walked around in socks and sandals? What if, Yuuri!!”

“Wow,” Yuuri commented as Victor panted, needing a minute to catch his breath after his rant. “All your concerns are very superficial.”

“Comfort me, Yuuri!” Victor wailed and threw himself into Yuuri’s arms, sighing contently as they immediately wrapped him up securely. Victor buried his face into the side of Yuuri’s neck, feeling at home with the first inhale of Yuuri’s fruity cologne. Never had he felt so safe from the dangers that were inevitable aging.

Yuuri chuckled, pressing a light kiss to Victor’s temple and whispered, “You’ve changed my whole life, Victor. Of course, I’ll be here till the end with you.”

“D’awwwwwww!”

A chorus of cooing echoed from all around them. Victor and Yuuri both jumped at the racket and discovered that not only was everybody leering at them, they were also shamelessly eavesdropping.

“Our wedding vows are going to be so much better than theirs, right babe?” JJ boasted, slinging an arm over his fiancé’s shoulder.

With the exception of JJ and an absent Yurio, the rest of the crowd was in tears. In fact, if Victor hadn’t known any better, he would’ve thought this was a funeral. A box of tissues was being passed around as people sobbed and blubbered, some even crying their mascara off. Most notably amongst the mourners was Otabek Altin. He was the last person Victor would’ve expected to be moved by such an overt demonstration of eternal love. Mainly, because he was Yurio’s new friend and to apply for the job, one must already have their cold dead heart locked in a steel volt in the Himalayas and be committed to hating everything.

Naturally, JJ saw this as an opportunity to plug his new project. “The ghostwriter who wrote my book, Ice Jewel—which comes out January 20th, so stop by your nearest Chapters to pick up a copy or pre-order online—will come up with something a lot less cliché and contrived. Right babe?”

“Shh!!” His fiancé slapped a hand over his mouth, “That was the most romantic thing I’ve ever witnessed. I want to die!”

Victor quickly stepped back from Yuuri and tried to laugh the moment off but was sweating too profusely to be convincing. Yuuri’s face was getting redder by the second and looked like it was about to combust. This was not how they wanted their competitors to see them. They were supposed to be exhibiting that they were at the top of their game, ready to take the world by storm and crush everything in sight. Or at least that’s what Yakov had always taught him to do.

“It’s almost time for you to skate, little piggy. So, get back to work,” Victor decreed. “This is a direct order from your coach. Not your handsome doting lover who spoils you rotten. I won’t have any slackers!”

Who was he kidding? He never acted like a real coach before, so why start now?

Yuuri grimaced. “It’s so embarrassing when you say that word.”

“What word?” Victor asked then scoffed, “Lover? How else would you like me to describe it? No wonder the media doesn’t think we’re together. This world is way too sexually repressed!”

"Yeah, yeah,” Yuuri said, no longer paying him any mind. “Now, just where did you throw my phone?”

So maybe it was a little mean of Victor to let Yuuri search for his phone all on his own knowing that Yuuri wasn’t wearing his glasses. But it was just so funny watching Yuuri bumbling around, eyes scrunched up as they uselessly inspected the floor. Eventually, Yuuri located the phone after two failed attempts, picking up a discarded coke can and an empty water bottle at first. It was impressive that even though the phone had traveled long and far there wasn’t a single ounce of damage, thanks to the case. Victor should totally see if he could get Yuuri an Otterbox sponsorship. After all, sex sells and he knew Yuuri would be able to sell a ton of phone cases with an evocative television ad.

A wild idea suddenly sparked in his mind. One he knew Yuuri definitely wasn’t going to like. Still, this idea had Victor pulling out his own phone and opening his camera app. He snapped a picture with a flash just as Yuuri was bending down to pick something up.

“Eh?! Victor” Yuuri swiveled around and rushed back over to him. “W-What are you doing?!”

“Posting a picture of your juicy bottom on my Instagram.”

“Why?!”

“Because I’d like the world to see how nice and juicy it is.”

“Victor!” Yuuri whined and made a grab for the phone.

“Yuuuuuri!” Victor sang back and kept it out of reach. “Look, I’ve written a risqué caption full of Eros! Maybe the media will see this picture and a news story will break about our insatiable lust for one another?”

“Give it to me right now!” Yuuri grounded out through his teeth and held out his hand.

Thinking it wasn’t worth the spat, Victor handed it over. He expected Yuuri to take the phone and delete the picture immediately, but instead, Yuuri’s fingers began tapping quickly on the screen as his face burned up.

He thrusted the phone back into Victor’s hand and averted his eyes. Victor glanced at it and saw that not only had Yuuri posted the picture, he’d written an even sexier caption that almost blew Victor off his feet and made his nose bleed.

“It’s such a shame that no one would believe me if I told them how you lord over me in bed.” Victor shook his head in amazement. “Bossy, confident, sex torturer, Katsuki Yuuri? Not with how innocent you act in public. No one will believe how mean to me you really are.”

A glint flashed in Yuuri’s eyes as his gaze trailed him up and down. “Oh, you have it so wrong. I think I’m very, very nice to you in bed. Especially when I—”

Once again, it felt like the whole world was listening in, and sure enough, when they looked up they saw everyone staring like they were tuning into a television show. They were rather shameless about it too. Didn’t even have the decency to look remorseful or pretend like they hadn’t been invading people’s very private moments.

It was lucky that they’d caught themselves before they got any more explicit. With Yurio present in the audience, things had to be kept PG-13. He was looking between them now with his big, innocent blue eyes, his brows furrowed in confusion.

“When you what?” he asked Yuuri who was turning very, very red. “Eat pork cutlet bowls?”

Everyone around them who knew better nodded in affirmative, but JJ, of course, had never really been too bright. “I think he meant—”

Thankfully, his fiancée was there to jab an elbow into his gut and cut him off before he could go into detail. Realizing his mistake, he nodded his head along with everyone else and that seemed to satisfy Yurio who just shrugged and walked away with Otabek.

When he was gone, Yuuri groaned and thumped his head against Victor’s chest, his face still hot with shame. “That was unbelievably embarrassing,” he said. “Let’s focus on the competition now and the celebration later. And let’s stop giving these vultures something to eavesdrop on.”

“Da,” Victor chuckled as Yuuri glared at all in their vicinity.

It was time anyway for Yuuri’s skate. They were as prepared as they could be and now was Yuuri’s chance to show his stuff. He pressed a kiss to Yuuri’s cheek and lead him towards the rink. Yuuri’s grip on his hand was like a vice. He was obviously nervous. Victor knew by now that nothing he said could make Yuuri lose those nerves, but he hoped Yuuri would be strong and wouldn’t let them overtake him.

“Even if I don’t win—” Yuuri started, but Victor wasn’t going to let him go any farther with that statement.

“You will win.”

“No, just let me finish.” Yuuri laughed, shaking his head. “Even if I don’t win, thank you for always taking care of me.”

Victor melted into a smile and opened his arms to wrap Yuuri up in a tight hug. He held on for as many squeezes as he could before Yuuri was asked to take the ice then clasped his hand with Yuuri’s and kissed his ring, wishing him luck.

“Well, go on. Show them how much I love you,” Victor said and Yuuri nodded with determination.

He knew something amazing was going to happen today. He just knew. Whether it be Yuuri winning the gold or breaking a world record or even… saying yes to spending the rest of his life with Victor, it was going to be a historical day.

Victor fiddled with the secret velvet box hidden deep within his pocket. His heart thundered in his chest as the music began to play; the happiness and pride overwhelming as he watched Yuuri wield his magic over the crowd.

❄

Morooka: Welcome back, everyone. We just witnessed a beautiful performance by Katsuki Yuuri. One that is bound to make him a top contender in today’s competition and displayed an excellent comeback after his loss last season.

Stéphane: Yes, it was simply magnifique! A perfect performance that shows the true power between this first-time coach and skater duo.

Morooka: Let’s flash over to the kiss and cry to see their scores.

Stéphane: Katsuki Yuuri looks nervous. I don’t know why. No one can doubt that that performance will score high.

Morooka: And he’s broken the world record! In case you’re just tuning in, Katsuki Yuuri has just scored a 221.58 today with his free program. The audience is just going wild.

Stéphane: And what’s this! Victor Nikiforov just got down on one knee and presented Katsuki Yuuri with a ring. What a wonderful congratulations gift from a coach to his skater.

Morooka: I think that’s why their dynamic works so well, Stéphane. Victor is such a caring and rewarding coach.

Stéphane: Let’s see if we can hear what’s going on down there. Ha! It sounds like funny guy Victor there just asked Katsuki Yuuri to marry him and Katsuki Yuuri said yes. There were rumors that Yuuri might be retiring but maybe after this symbol of sheer commitment Victor has displayed today, he might reconsider coming back for another season.

Morooka: As you know, these two have exchanged partnership rings in the past. They have a very close professional relationship. You can tell by how they’re kissing now on the lips.

Stéphane: Yes, such a friendly embrace! I see Victor’s getting a little cheeky there slipping in some tongue.

Morooka: We’ve got some reactions here from twitter. One user says ‘They’re gay, you dumbasses.’ Another says, ‘I can’t wait for Victor and Yuuri’s wedding. You can tell that they’re super in love with each other.’ What do you make of that Stéphane?

Stéphane: Impossible! I see no signs of romance here! Look at how they’re rolling on the floor kissing now. It’s nothing but a coach and skater being excited about a fantastic score.

Morooka: I agree with you, of course, Stéphane. Victor’s done such a great job coaching for the first time. These twitter fans must be seeing something that isn’t there.

Stéphane: Absolument! There’s no way notorious playboy Victor Nikiforov would ever be taken off the market.”

Morooka: You’re right, of course. No way indeed.

#victuuri #victuuri fic #yoi fanfic #viktor nikiforov #yoi #yuuri katsuki #mine: yoi fic #humor fluff

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ajokeformur-ray · 7 years

Note

Hello! Can I get a self ship, please? I ship myself with Remus Lupin and Sirius Black (preferably in a polyamorous relationship). If you still have my description from my matchup request, you can just use that. If you need more details, please let me know. Thank you so much!!!

Interests- writing poetry, doing my makeup, listening to show tunes, hanging out with friends, reading fanfiction, making up stories in my head watching movies and tv shows

Likes- being dramatic, correcting people, being right, learning new things, being able to bitch with certain people, making people smile, music, alone time, being the center of attention with certain people, shiny/sparkly things, wearing black, wearing dark makeup

Dislikes- being told to stop being dramatic, homophobic people/comments, being wrong, people who don’t know what the fuck they’re talking about, being crowded, being alone with people who I don’t know, being in large social situations, being alone for a prolonged period of time

What you look for in someone- as a person with severe anxiety and depression, I look for someone who will be patient and understanding with me; willing to learn how to help me through anxiety attacks and long bouts of depression. I also look for someone who is dominant. I need someone who can take charge of a situation and make decisions. I need someone who will take care of me when I can’t take care of myself. I want someone who is passionate, protective, and sincere. I also look for someone who will understand my love languages, which are quality time and receiving gifts. I am a very shy, quiet person. I don’t really talk that much and don’t like to socialize. Once I’m comfortable around you, you’ll learn I’m also dramatic, creative, analytical, loyal, honest, protective, and a bit of a bitch at times. I tend to be drawn to the people that others are scared of. I always look for the good in people, and am not quick to judge. Although I’m a very kind person, I’m not quick to trust. And once you’ve broken my trust, it’s extremely hard to earn it back. In addition to my general anxiety, I also have social anxiety. I can’t be in a group of people without someone I know and trust. It doesn’t matter what kind of social situation it is; if someone I know and trust isn’t there, I’ll be very uncomfortable and might have a panic attack. If I’m alone in a large group of people, I feel like everyone is looking at me, talking about me, judging me, crowding me, suffocating me. It sucks. I generally don’t like talking to people I don’t know. The only exceptions to this are if they start talking about a fandom I like, or if they start spewing incorrect facts about one of my fandoms. I get made fun of a lot for being quite, which really annoys me. It’s not that I don’t have anything to say, I’m just scared of making a fool out of myself and I freeze up. That, or I don’t feel like I have anything to add to the conversation and choose to remain quiet, which makes people think I’m weird.

I love writing OT3 requests! Hope you like this and that it brings you some comfort and/or smiles. As specified in a DM - they’re dating you but not each other, set during the Marauder Era!

- Okay omg your hobbies are right up their streets! I headcanon that Sirius is heavily into Broadway so he knows all the lyrics and will spontaneously break out into song and dance, no matter where you all are. If he feels like dancing and singing, he will. Remus tends to face-palm but he can’t help but smile when he sees you enjoying yourself, especially if you join in with Sirius. When you’re in your own head daydreaming, the boys tend to leave you there… Or, Remus does. Because he’s studying. Whereas Sirius is the type to throw himself - and I mean, launch himself at you from the other side of the time kinda throw - into your lap and beg for your attention. On quieter days later on in Hogwarts, he’ll curl up beside you as Padfoot, instead.

- Yes ohmygoodness okay bitching is one of Sirius’ favourite things to do. He engages in all the gossip around Hogwarts and is usually the caue of it all, if we’re being honest, and he makes sure that you and Remus are caught up on it too.

“Hey, Remus, did you know about Marl -”

*Sigh* “Yes, Sirius, we know, that’s the fifth time today!”

“Hey, Erika, do you know - “

“Sirius!!”

Not only that, but the three of you, being in an openly poly relationship, tend to be the centre of gossip. Sirius and Remus couldn’t care less, they’re two of the four Marauders (six if you count the two honourary members; you and Lily), but if it ever got to you, they’d be there with withering glares and snapped comments that effectively roast the poor sod who dared to try to offend you.

- As you all get older and James spends more time with Lily and Peter mysteriously disappears for long hours at a time, you’re all left to your own devices so you’d become their entire world. Both are quite possessive - one’s a werewolf, one’s a dog - so it’s almost built into them but they do their best to never fight about you in front of you because that’s the last thing you’d ever need to see. If one started to monopolise you, a quick glance would make them step back and let the balance be restored, as it were, but generally they’re at the friendship stage of not knowing who’s clean underwear is whose, so there’s rarely a problem.

- You would be their biggest shared priority, even for Remus who typically prefers to study. You’re his girlfriend and Sirius is his best friend so really, what more could he ask for? if either you or Sirius are unhappy, Remus is right there to do what he can or either or both of you. If Remus is unhappy then naturally you and Sirius are there for him too. There’s so much balance and love in this poly, it’s unreal.

- They’d never let anyone, including each other, say something homophobic or generally rude to you. Woe betide anyone who tries because like I said, they’d be roasted and probably Cursed into next month. They’d also be sure that one of them is always with you at any given time unless you specify that you want to be alone or if they’re both busy with detentions or lessons. If they’re in detentions it’s almost guaranteed that you are too, even if you have to deliberately get detention rather than get caught for what they did or didn’t do.

- Both boys know anxiety and depression because they both have it, Sirius because of his family and Remus because of his furry little problem so you’re always well-looked after, all three of you. You all know each other’s triggers and you all know how to comfort each other, so there’s never any need to hide (looking at you, Remus). You had to learn but the boys already knew and they were happy to show you what they both needed in any given situation.

- Both boys can and will take charge of you when they need to. Remus tends to be more subtle - “Erika, please eat something. For me?” and he’d hold out a huge chunk of chocolate, smiling at you kindly in a way that only gives a hint of him doing it as a professor, and Sirius tends to be mroe obvious about it - “why aren’t you eating?” *adds more toast to your breakfast plate* Both are passionate so woo boi, any NSFW stuff you all do is heaaaaaavy asf! ;)

- Sirius tends to spoil you bothwith gifts and you and Remus prefer to share chocolate and spend time together. They love how you are when you’re comfortable and when you’re in a social situation one of them stays by your side at all times to make sure you’re comfortable and if you need to get out, they’ll take you straight out, no questions asked. If Sirius whines, Remus glares and you all go.

- People tend to avoid Sirius because of his last name and the affliations it has but Remus is well-known and loved. Neither can tell you just how much they appreciate how you got to know them for who they are not what people tell you they are and for that, you see sides to them that no one else will ever get to see.

- Remus likes to kiss your cheek and hug you from behind but Sirius loves giving and receiving neck kisses and hugging you from the front so sometimes you’re the filling of a Marauder Hug Sandwich, especially if James comes from behind one of you and attaches himself to the three of you, mock-crying about being left out of the group hug. It really is just such a loving, fulfilling and supportive relationship and the boys can’t imagine their lives without you.

@bingewatchingmylifegoby

#bingewatchingmylifegoby #sirius black #remus lupin #matchup #harry potter

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rosirinoa · 7 years

Text

Communication (Kismet diner).

Note: this drabble is COMPLETELY based on a cornetto TV spot called Kismet diner. Check the final notes for more information.

Petra was a girl who worked in a small cafeteria in downtown. It was a cozy place that offered tasty food, and many clients visited the place during lunch and dinner hours. In order to pay for her college studies, the girl worked in this cafeteria, which was almost like her second home, since she spent her afternoons there, using her little breaks to do her homework and study.

Aside of being a nice and cheerful girl, Petra had a lovely singing voice and yet, she was very shy to do it in public. One day, Mike, the cafeteria’s owner, heard her singing a melodious song, and he was very surprised after discovering her talent, so he decided to do something about it.

After several weeks, Mike managed to convince Petra to sing one or two songs for the clients, during dinner time. That way, she could earn some extra tips for her own, and perhaps, overcome her shyness to sing.

The next Thursday, Mike got a microphone and a small speaker, so Petra could sing something when the place was crowded enough.

At first, the girl was very nervous. She had never sung in front of so many people, and the cafeteria was ally crowded, so she decided to close her eyes for a moment and started to sing her song…

Meanwhile, a man around his thirties and black hair, walked towards the coffee shop. The expression on his face seemed tired and melancholic, as if he’d lived many years than he appeared. Before entering the place, he stopped for an instant to see some books on the sidewalk. They were being sold by an old man with worn out clothes. One of them picked up the man’s attention: it was a rare first edition of The Aleph by Jorge Luis Borges, and without giving it a second thought, he instantly offered the old man a generous amount of money for it.

As soon as he saw the money, the older man became startled and rejected it, explaining that it was too much for a book. Nevertheless, the younger man apparently ignored him, and put the money on his hand, while showing him a tiny and kind smile, which quickly vanished, as he put on his serious and melancholic demeanor. The bookseller thanked him and then followed him with the eyes as he entered the cafeteria.

Petra was singing one of the songs she chose for that day, her eyes still closed, but when she decided to open them, she saw a man with black hair and short height, walking towards one of the free tables.

For some reason, that man drew her attention, and for an instant, her shyness disappeared and her voice became even more beautiful. Nevertheless, when the song was finished, the only person who didn’t cheer or applauded for her, was that particular man. Instead, he leafed through the book he just bought, completely ignoring what was going on around him.

The same situation occurred the following Thursday, and the next week, and a couple more days, since the man began to frequent the place, at least twice a week, increasing the Petra’s interest on him. She began to wonder what kind of person he was; why did he ignore her when she sang, and most of all, she tried approach him.

She didn’t have luck, and her attempts terribly failed. Even when she approached him to take his order, he just pointed at the menu to show her what he wanted to eat or drink, and then he continued reading his book, writing small notes on the pages.

Slowly, she became frustrated, ignoring the fact that, every time she looked away, he glanced at her, and after an instant, a nostalgic expression appeared on his eyes.

One day, the bookseller entered the cafeteria. She appeared to be hungry and ordered a sandwich and a soup, but when he looked for money on his picked, he noticed he didn’t have enough to pay. An expression of worry appeared on his face, and when she noticed it, Petra approached him, putting the plate with food in front of him, kindly smiling at him and saying…

“Don’t worry, it’s on the house.”

The bookseller was touched by her actions, especially when he realized she took some money from her own wallet and put it on the cash register.

A couple minutes later, like every Thursday, Petra was getting ready to sing a few songs, and for an instant, an angelic grin lightened her face, right after seeing the mysterious man entering the cafeteria. Her happy expression quickly disappeared, when she noticed that he seemed to ignore her completely.

When she finished her songs, she went back to her waitress duties, trying not to get too close to the mysterious man’s table, even though she was tempted to; she really wanted to confront him, but she knew it was inappropriate.

Suddenly, Petra saw a tall and blond man, with imposing blue eyes entering the place. He seemed to be looking for someone, and a moment later, he approached the mysterious man’s table and sat in front of him.

The girl looked at them from afar. It was the first time someone accompanied him and she would feel quite disappointed if she confirmed she was being ignored.

But, Petra’s surprise was big when both men began to speak in sign language, and for a moment, she felt a shy smile on her lips. He wasn’t ignoring her, after all. Still, she felt quite frustrated, since she was now aware of how difficult it would be for her to approach him…

The bookseller witnessed it all. He was an observant man with a big heart, so he decided to do something about it.

The next day, right after Petra entered the cafeteria, he approached her with a book.

“This might help you” he smiled and went back to the sidewalk, where he displayed the books.

She thanked him and while she put on her apron, she read the book title: “Talking hands. A sign language manual”. Her hear beat fast and from the window, she looked at the bookseller, with a pretty special smile.

A few weeks later, Petra anxiously waited for her mysterious man to appear. She knew he’d be there any minute. After all, he frequented the place to have some coffee and read, but that day was special.

As soon as Petra saw him entering the place, she looked at Mike with complicity; her boss was willing to help her with the plan, and as soon as the microphone was plugged, all lights went out, except for the table where the mysterious black haired man was sitting. He looked around, wondering what was going on.

And then, for the first time, their eyes met and Petra smiled, feeling a little nervous for what she was about to do. The man’s deep blue eyes seemed astonished when he noticed she seemed to be singing, but at the same time, she translated the lyrics in sign language, looking at him with a caring and kind glance, and for a moment, he thought her eyes communicated as much as her hands did.

It was a sweet song, whose words seemed to be talking directly to him, and he couldn’t help but smile. He’d been meaning to look at the girl in the eyes for a while, but during that moment, he knew he didn’t remain unnoticed by her and she was willing to communicate with him

Once the song was finished, he waked her to come to his table. There was something different on his serious face. A spark of illusion was showing, and as soon as Petra was sitting in front of him, they both smiled shyly and he spoke in sign language.

“My name is Levi, and you?”

“I’m Petra.”

“Nice to meet you, Petra. I’m glad to finally talk to you…”

Author’s notes

Like I said, this drabble is ENTIRELY based on a tv spot… it’s an advertisement for cornetto cupidity, called kismet diner. Here’s the link. It’s soooooo sweet it gives you diabetes. I love it. I think it’s beautiful, and when I saw it the first time, a year ago, I immediately thought about Levi and Petra, but just recently I managed to adapt it. I hope you liked it!

#Rivetra #Levi x Petra #Levi Ackerman #Petra Ral #Levi Heichou #shingeki no kyojin #Attack on titan #rosirinoa #cornetto

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moralityblurred · 7 years

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my color oracle results

Your General Disposition At the present time, your behavior is characterized by your need for existential security. The fear that you could suffer loss, harm or even shipwreck lies deep inside you. For this reason, you cling to supposed securities such as your professional status, beliefs, partner and financial assets. You find it difficult to separate from anything you own and to throw away the things that no longer serve you.

Interpretation of the Colors You Find Most Pleasing

Of great importance to you now is...

...crisis-proof existential survival. You need the comforting certainty of having a solid base in your life. Stable living conditions, adequate income and sensual pleasure and a certain measure of comfort are among your life goals. You want to be secure against the whims of fate and to be able to devote yourself without distraction to the things that give you satisfaction. For this reason, you resolutely apply yourself to the task of creating a crisis-proof existence, despite any obstacles which might appear. The thing you consider very important for your sense of wellbeing is...

...solving difficulties autonomously. You want to attain complete control over a situation that concerns and touches you personally. You would also like to have such a good hold on yourself that you remain in control, no matter what, so that everything runs smoothly. Without being aware of it, you are also quite domineering in your dealings with others, and this doesn't sit well with all of them. You say to yourself: The thing I need to cope with my current situation is...

...a thorough solution to your problem. You can see it is now time to get up on your hind legs. You want to carry out your plans carefully and thoroughly and not be diverted from them. You take your tasks seriously and are not satisfied with half-hearted solutions or superficial answers. On the contrary, you try to get to the bottom of things, and you seek a radical solution to your problems. In the face of your personal problems you also concentrate on...

...to vigorously defend your territory. Anyone who tries to restrict your freedom of action is resolutely fended off by you. You secure your private space in which no one can influence you, ply you with demands or bother you in any other way. This area can be your work space, your home, a hobby or even your view of the world. This defensive attitude can earn you the reputation of being egocentric and is not an invitation to commune with you. You try to hold troubles at bay by...

...alert self-protection. You carefully scrutinize everything that crosses your path, and you don't say yes to it until it has passed your acid test. You decidedly and resolutely fend off everything that could hinder your personal development, and you keep your distance from unpleasant people who try to manipulate, define or influence you. The thing you have consciously planned is...

...obtaining sufficient funds. It is very important to you to have enough money at your disposal so that you can afford whatever you wish to have or do. For this reason, you are currently spending more time thinking about your finances, and you anxiously deliberate on how you could obtain the necessary money. The certainty that you have sufficient funds strengthens your sense of self-worth and helps you to meet other people with confidence.

Interpretation of the Colors You Find Most Unpleasant

At the moment you feel most anxious due to your...

...distressing relationship problems. At the moment, you are more aware of your personal needs, worries and problems, and this makes contact with others more difficult. Your relationship difficulties make you all the sadder because, under the current conditions, you need loving attention more than usual. It would be easier for you to get what you need if you were better able to put yourself in the other person's shoes. You inwardly sigh over your...

...burdensome situation of suffering. You believe people should behave correctly, considerately and kindly towards you so that your interactions run pleasantly and without friction. Since this is frequently not the case, you often become indignant over their incorrect behavior and views or their lack of kindness. You easily get the feeling of being someone's innocent victim and believe you have every right to be outraged. You also suffer quite a bit due to your...

...unpleasant contentiousness. The behavior of certain other people is a thorn in your side. You don't feel like putting up with just anything without objection, and because of this, you can give no guarantee you won't end up in an argument with the person in question. Your stubborn attitude could easily provoke confrontations. At the moment, your mood is somewhat gloomy due to your...

...emotional sensitivity. When you think about the difficulties you have to cope with, your mood is anything but rosy. You have to steel yourself against exhausting demands, you feel unfairly treated, or you are faced with some other impositions. You try to adopt a thick skin, but you get worked up all the same and have a tendency to make mountains out of molehills. At the moment, you are in quite bad spirits due to your...

...oppressive sense of apprehension. You are concerned about a situation the outcome of which is uncertain. You contemplate various options of what you could do, so that everything turns out the way you think it ought to. In doing so, you cling too rigidly to your own views, and you have too little faith that it might also be good for you if, for once, events evolved differently from what you had imagined. By the way, no problem has ever been solved by worrying. You worriedly ask yourself how things will progress with regard to your...

...fear of rejection. You often feel isolated from other people by an invisible wall, and sometimes you get the creeping feeling that even the people you like don't really love you and possibly even reject you. On the other hand, you enjoy standing out from the crowd with your willfulness, unusual views and egocentric behavior. Your “distinctiveness trip” does win you attention, but not the warm-hearted affection you require.

#( mun. )#( i just. wow okay. )#( scarily accurate! )

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biofunmy · 5 years

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‘A Caricature of the Patriarchy’: Argentine Feminists Remake Tango

BUENOS AIRES — Liliana Furió’s ruby red flat shoes glided across the dance floor in swift, assured moves, making her baggy pants sway gently.

She and a lean young Russian man were rapture personified, clasped in a tight embrace as they circled counterclockwise with a few other pairs in perfect synchrony.

But it was hard to tell who was leading whom. Some pairs appeared lost in a loving embrace while others swung back and forth playfully.

And that is precisely what Ms. Furió had in mind when she created a weekly dance fest that would break all the rules of tango, Argentina’s prime cultural export.

Ms. Furió started renting venues for the event earlier this year, calling it La Furiosa — or the livid woman. It’s part of a push by Argentine feminists to make tango less patriarchal.

In traditional tango, men invite women to dance through a subtle head-jolt gesture known as a cabeceo, often signaled from across the room. On the dance floor, the man asserts control in a sequence of moves, often fast-paced, jolting and limb-entangling, that range from teasingly sensual to uncomfortably domineering.

Whether they’re loving or enduring it, the women, who are expected to wear cocktail dresses and high heels, must hold tight for four-song sets. Veteran tango dancers say the 15-minute stretches can turn into agony when a male partner’s embrace feels suffocating — or when his hand wanders well beneath the waistline.

“It’s a bit of a game to test where the limits are,” said Victoria Beytia, an avid tango dancer who, along with Ms. Furió, is part of a loose coalition of activists known as the Tango Feminist Movement.

In July the group published a protocol to make tango halls less dogmatic about traditional gender roles and more assertive about rooting out sexual harassment and assault.

The protocol provides suggested guidelines for tango venue organizers, including acceptance of couples who depart from heteronormative roles. It also offers guidance on how to handle instances of harassment and abuse, advising, for instance, that men accused of acting inappropriately on the dance floor be asked to leave.

“Tango is a reflection of what is happening in our culture, and for a long time our culture has allowed men to touch you when they want to and if you complain you’re dismissed as crazy,” Ms. Beytia said.

Ms. Furió, a 56-year-old documentary filmmaker, became acquainted with tango as a child. Her father, a strict military intelligence officer who years later would be convicted of grave crimes committed during Argentina’s dictatorship, made watching “The Grand Values of Tango,” a weekly television show, an obligatory family ritual.

The show paid homage to the sensual, theatrical dance that arose in poor immigrant enclaves and attained mainstream appeal among Argentines.

“I had a fascination with the dance,” Ms. Furió said on a recent morning, sitting in the sun-drenched living room of the apartment she shares with her German wife. “That unique embrace, those sensual choreographies, it’s something that I remember vividly.”

As an adult, she began attending the storied tango halls in Buenos Aires known as milongas. But her passion for the dance was deflated by the rituals and codes of conduct that struck her as sexist and demeaning.

Argentine tango is the product of a confluence of rhythms and traditions that intersected in the 1700s and 1800s, in poor districts of Buenos Aires that were home to European immigrants, former African slaves and locals.

Initially shunned by elites and the Catholic Church, which deemed the dance transgressive and obscene, tango was ultimately embraced widely as Argentina received a huge influx of immigrants in the early 1900s, and Buenos Aires became a world-renowned cosmopolitan city.

The lyrics of many tango classics are as dramatic as the genre, telling stories of passionate love, desperate longing and betrayal. But several are explicit odes to the subjugation of women, and physical violence against them, and are jarring to listen to today.

The song “Amablemente,” or “Kindly,” tells the story of a man who walks in on his partner in the arms of another man. The male lover is dismissed, because, as the lyricist Iván Díez put it, “the man is not culpable in these cases.” The betrayed lover then demands that the woman prepare him a beverage, leans over to kiss her forehead and “kindly stabbed her 34 times.”

“Tortazos,” by Edmundo Rivero, is an angry screed to a female lover who has moved on. “I don’t break you with one smack only because I don’t want to hit you on the street!” the song goes.

“For a while, those lyrics were second nature and I would just laugh at them,” Ms. Furió said.

But this subset of tango history began to come under scrutiny as Argentina’s feminist movement grew in visibility and vigor. In 2015, a campaign to draw attention to violence against women galvanized millions.

Soraya Rizzardini González, a tango instructor who is part of the Tango Feminist Movement and helped draft the protocol, said that while songs that seem to explicitly condone violence may be a minority, tango has always reflected pervasive structural sexism in Argentina.

The earliest film recordings of tango, she said, depict women being treated as “rag dolls” across the dance floor.

“The gender roles are fixed,” Ms. González said. “One person is leading and the other is not.”

“Tango is a caricature of the patriarchy,” she added.

In the 1990s, gay Argentines began organizing dance collectives that upended the staid rules. In what began as a small, underground scene that would blossom, tango aficionados created spaces in which women could take the lead and same-sex couples could alternate between the leading and passive roles.

An advertisement for queer tango lessons made Ms. Furió do a double-take in 2003. Having recently come out of the closet, she found the idea enthralling.

“It meant being able to take ownership of a piece of heritage that is so deeply ours, but that had been accessible only to a segment of the population,” she said. “There was something very subversive about that.”

Ms. Furió said learning to lead in tango took more than conventional classes; it required a psychological breakthrough as she came to terms with years of feeling belittled, underestimated and generally jerked around in her life.

But there was a magical turning point, she said, when she learned she could embrace the assertive role on the dance floor.

“As a woman, you realize that you can lead and that you can do it well,” she said. “Over the years, I have helped many women that struggled with the same thing.”

As more women became tango instructors, and taught the dance in a gender fluid way, Buenos Aires milongas started embracing same-sex couples, women leading men on the dance floor and other breaks with convention.

Some tango aficionados remain doggedly committed to tradition. Héctor Norberto Pellozo, who heads the old school milonga Los Cachirulos, insists that guests at his dance party dress elegantly and adhere to the courting rituals in which women must await interest from men.

On a recent night, he and his wife welcomed old and new patrons effusively as he led women and men to sit on opposite sides of the dance floor. Mr. Pellozo scoffed at the suggestion that tango has perpetuated gender inequality and enabled abusive men.

“Women know how to earn respect,” he said. “The issue now is that women want to overtake men.”

Mr. Pellozo said that while he respected gay people, the notion that they can partake in tango was blasphemy.

“Being chest to chest is not the same as it is between a man and a woman,” he said.

Having been expelled from Mr. Pellozo’s milonga once for trying to dance with another woman, Ms. Furió is no fan. But she seems to be having the last laugh, drawing larger crowds at La Furiosa.

“We’ve perhaps broadened it into something that is fraternal and not necessarily sensual,” she said.

Still, watching her and her patrons dance under dim red lights while a live band played, it was easy to drift into something approaching a hypnotic state.

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dollysilvey4881-blog · 7 years

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theponderanceblog-blog · 7 years

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Talking yoga with Cate from LovEarth

The Ponderance would describe Cate Peterson as a ‘Legit yogi’. Someone who effortlessly personifies many of the true principles of yoga by being kind, strong, healthy and generous (and obviously an awesome yogi). From pioneering corporate yoga in Australia, to providing mats to rough sleepers to sleep on Cate has found more and more ways to send yoga and it's message beyond the studio as part of these and other great mat-based initiatives. Most recently Cate has partnered YogaHive with McDonalds as a prize on their annual McDonalds Monopoly competition. Precisely the kind of market cut-through that helps people overcome the barriers to entering the yoga scene, be it a physical, social or cultural stretch for some.

Cate has offered half of her life to helping others discover yoga. That's simply awesome.

Cate's overall energy surprised me when we first met. I felt instantly comfortable having a big, enthusiastic chat with her. There's something impressive about a conscious-minded person who is equally kick-ass in the business world as she is on a yoga mat.

Initially training in Oki-do yoga under Takao Nakazawa, planting her feet firmly on the ground (literally in Tedasana) through continued study under Andjez Gospodarczyk at Ryogo Yoga. Since learning the craft, Cate has invested 25 years of her life to yoga and promoting it's benefits in Sydney, online and around the world.

Cate was responsible for what is now referred to as 'corporate yoga'. Starting out by pioneering workplace programs in Australia over 2 decades ago. Cate recalled her humble beginnings trying to get corporate clients, fondly remembering the effort she put in to bending and twisting the 9-5ers for 2 years until she finally landed her first contract. Things slowly, but consistently improved from there.

Once established, the corporate yoga business was a good way to make a living relative to Cate's studies and passion. As her client base grew, Cate began commissioning company branded yoga mats for her corporate clients adding a bit of well-deserved capital. The added financial momentum allowed for the fitting out of a friends house in Sydney's North. The former backpacker hostel required some work. After some elbow grease and a coat or two of paint, Cate had her base of operations and a share in a busy neighbourhood studio. Becoming a local institution and vital access point for the construction next door the property was buzzing with happy, fresh energy.

The trouble started when the construction stopped.

The tradies had packed up and the new neighbours had patched up the gap in the fence used to get in and out of the work-zone next door. It was almost the same day that the adjacent adults who moved in decided they didn't like having a bunch of zen'd-out Yogi's hovering about. It was a parking and privacy catastrophe... Apparently!?

The Council complaints started rolling off the unnecessarily disgruntled pen of the legally qualified neighbour. All of a sudden Cate and her business partner had to shut down their thriving, 12-year-old studio business.

Those damn Yogi's, always peering over the fence, doing burnouts in their Prius's and going "ommmm" at the top of their lungs...

Faced with a homeless business and an influx of calls from lost clients Cate had a lightbulb moment. What if there was a service that linked people up to local studios as if they were all connected to one big studio network? YogaPass was born.

Cate once again rolled out her business mat, unwittingly pioneering the, now common, fitness membership aggregation model in Australia. The now closed studio's displaced clients and many yogis more took to YogaPass. Growing it quickly to allow access to 538 studios. Those 538 studios were accessed by members well over 200,000 times in the 6 years it was running. That's a lot of sweaty downward dogs, handstand attempts and small businesses getting a financial boost. It wasn't long until the coattails of YogaPass were being grabbed at. Soon entrepreneurs were taking note of the successful business model and the market flooded with imitators. Eventually, as Cate explained, customers didn't really know which service was her original version. Numbers started to drop and Cate decided to shift focus to building up her newest venture, LovEarth. On learning of the direct human and environmental impact of PVC, from which the yoga mats she was getting made were made up, Cate immediately took action. Looking around for a sustainable alternative (this is well before the whole global shift toward sustainable products happened) Cate soon found that there really wasn't any environmentally-friendly yoga mat options. Not being the type of person to back down, Cate decided that her company, LovEarth yoga, would come to market with environmentally and socially responsible mats, for her corporate clients and everyone who wanted an ethical alternative to practice on.

Cate contacted the manufacturing firm she was working with to produce the PVC mats and gave them an ultimatum: Lose her regular business or start using natural, far more environmentally friendly tree-rubber for the mats. Despite a lack of experience with the material, the factory agreed to change their ways, making the mats from all natural tree rubber and opening the doors for their business to expand in to new, more sustainable products for other clients. Win/win.

Skip ahead to today and you can find Cate still teaching yoga, making eco-friendly mats and travelling the world bringing practice to the masses. The market mimicking YogaPass has inspired her newest venture, a bigger, better and newly launched yoga community and studio aggregator, YogaHive. Check it out!

I had the pleasure of trying out a LovEarth mat. I've given it a farily good run over the last few weeks, the results are below.

LovEarth Mat trial

I've now used my LovEarth mat for 3 x heated classes (30°c 1 hour) and 2 x 45 minute vinyasa flow classes at home.

The mat has required some wearing in, as all mat's do when new. But still isn't as grippy as I'd like it to be. I found the surface gets a bit slippery when the mat is sweaty. I've experience this before with new mats from leading companies, you just have to wash/use them a few times and earn the grip. I'm fine with that but it may be a bit tricky for less experienced yogis who may slide out of alignment.

People have definitely heard of LovEarth and I get cool points for being eco-friendly amongst the curious and conscious crowd. The mat iself is robust, making it a touch heavier than others, which I like. It feels like it will last for a long time. I 100% vouch for this lovely, earthy-feeling, biodegradable and AFFORDABLE option at $87.

LovEarth mats are sold online (here). Having recently shopped around for mats (christmas present for wifey) I can vouch for the fact that they are They are one of the most socially and environmentally responsible mats available. They are up there with the other eco-mat leaders such as Jade Yoga and Second Earth (which I own and use also).

*PLEASE NOTE:

This is not a paid or incentivised post. Cate did provide The Ponderance with a LovEarth mat free of charge to allow us to test it, she kindly offered to not have it back following our trialling it. She did so with a lovely big smile. Thanks Cate!

#yoga #LovEarth #Cate Peterson #YogaHive #Asana #Vinyasa #Health #fitness #wellness #ethical #sustainable #environment #conscious #consumption #rubber #socially resposnible

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