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dimepdf · 1 year

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★ 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐇 𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐊. + 𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐘

masterlist. / taglist. / any request? synopsis. with Ethan being the poor loser virgin that he was, the boy just couldn't help but have some weird fantasies about you taking his virginity.

─── ☆ notes. new pathetic whiny man to obsess over added to the list, i haven't even seen the full movie yet which is why this is more fantasy au instead of anything related to the canon plot . | — feedback is always welcomed & don't forget to reblog 🤍

─── ☆ length. 1.3k (10 min read) .

Ethan had the skill of using his thoughts to escape the comforts of his own made-up reality, more commonly known as daydreaming.

He would find himself slouched against any surface, lost in his own dazed thoughts, making up little scenarios that would often leak into his dreams.

Maybe that was why Ethan had liked sleeping so much, mastering the skill of falling asleep every time he would crawl into bed and let his head lay against his pillow.

Just to get back to his fantasy world, he knew that in no actual reality would he find you sitting on his lap.

In real life, you were just friends; having met Ethan through the same group of friends, the feelings that he had for you only seemed to fester more and more, overflowing like a bubbling pot.

He was too nervous to even make eye contact with you, yet here you were, the main character starring in all his fantasies.

well, not the totally normal human version of you, but some sort of demon version at least. Your brown ebony skin, now a dark red, as your eyes glowed a misty light orange, and you had to protrude two small dark horns coming from your temple.

Smothered under your weight resting down, you straddled his hips as your arms steadied yourself with your hands against his chest.

It took Ethan a few blinks to realize the reason he had been panting for air as if he had been taking his last breath. Being covered in a thin layer of sweat, which almost melted into the bedsheets from how on fire his body had felt with the spark of pleasure that had flooded through his system all at once.

The dream had felt so realistic—the thump of his heart in his ears, how soft your abnormal skin had felt against the rough pads of his fingers, almost massaging your pelvis as you slowly rolled your hips against his erection.

Ethan felt like he was dying. That had to be the only way to explain why he felt like every section of his body was burning from the inside, like something inside of him was building up to burst out at any second, as if your touch was coaxing something to escape from his pitiful little body.

In addition to your demon-like features, the clothes you wore were normal in the theme of your usual set of clothes, but just below the sag of your gym shorts peeked a lewd mark of some sort of unidentifiable symbol of some sort that seemed to shine the same color as your eyes.

The symbol on your skin matching one had been embodied into his skin in the same place, just above his happy trail.

the way that they had beamed brighter together in sync, almost like the two were intertwined in the appearance that something was flowing through you, and whatever it was had to be the reason he felt the way he did.

Your eyes had caught his graze, another hammer of his heart beating rapidly against his chest as his tongue dragged over the bottom of his lip by nervous habit.

Your gaze held something completely different, other than the obvious change in appearance.

It was the glint in the way your eyes seemed so alluring that had his hips stuttering to bring some sort of relief to the throbbing problem in his sweatpants.

You leaned in closer, the peek of your breast exposed from the low cut of your loose shirt, making him swallow thickly under your stare. A sharp smile had spread across your lips.

Ethan should have found it worrying.

Alarms should have been ringing in his head, telling him how weird his virgin subconscious was forming some type of freaky monster sex fantasy about his crush.

But there was a bigger part of him that refused to think about anything other than wanting to bury his cock inside of you.

He had almost felt drunk on this new strange feeling, his lips parting and him panting as your foreheads touched, "Awe, you're burning up, Ethan."

Just the mere sound of your voice had his hip lifting from the mattress, your tone going straight to his dick.

"It…feels weird…" He had finally managed to stutter from his mouth, he wasn’t in agonizing pain, but the amount of discomfort he had from you teasing his rock hard erection was enough to bring him to tears.

He shuffled under your weight to ease the deep, boiling feeling coiling in his lower stomach. "I know, baby, I know, I'm gonna make it all go away, okay?" A whine pulled from his throat from the reassurance, the brush of your hands against his cheek.

Watching your lips form with every word, thinking about how much he had wanted your mouth around his cock, the small embrace had him aching all over for you.

"Please," Ethan begged, his tongue suddenly feeling too big for his mouth. "Touch me, please."

A sigh of relief sounds from his lips as your hand trails down his torso straight towards his erection, reaching below the elastic of his briefs and freeing him, greeting the thigh clenching sight of his veiny hilt.

Sitting between his legs, you could feel the tenseness of his leg muscles twitch as you lean down to press a wet kiss against his puffy tip, Ethan shivering at the sight of your tongue poking from your mouth and stealing a taste of the precum that coated your lips as if you were first taking a sample.

His heart started to thump against his chest, the beat of his heart ringing through his ears.

A pained whine tugged from his throat as his hips arched once your mouth had finally engulfed the head of his cock, and he was keen at the feeling of your warm tongue tracing down along the underside of his veiny length all while you never broke eye contact with him.

“S–shit,” The hum of your mouth around him had him stretching out his arms for a fistful of the blanket.

A whimper parted from his lips once your hands guided his to the back of your head, letting him ground himself with a fistful of your hair.

His hips thrusting up from the mattress seemed to be on their own, fucking your throat, trying to chase the overwhelming feeling of pleasure that came from the rawness of fucking the back of your throat.

But then there was a pause, with Ethan coming to a trembling halt, his chest rising and falling from his panting breath. "Um, can—is it okay if I do it inside?" His voice was small and filled with concern as if his cock was already down your throat.

Your lashes fluttered from processing the question. The small bob of your head and the way you continued to take him all the way were more than enough confirmation to have Ethan go back to rolling his hips into your mouth.

With one more buck of his hips, holding down your head with one harsh thrust, it was all the warning you could get for Ethan’s abrupt orgasm as he came down your throat.

It took a moment for clarity to finally kick in. Ethan’s hands stopped moving from your hair to gently caress your face with an adored look plastered all over his blown pupils and his face flushed a tint of pink.

"I—I think I'm in love with you," he whispers as he watches you crawl up his chest, settling just below his still erect dick.

Ethan shivered at the sigh of your sharp fangs poking from your gums and the stretch of your gleeful smile as your tongue dragged over the sharp canines before leaning in close enough to press a trail of kisses up his neck.

"Wanna put it in me now?" Your question being the only thing to knock around in his head and having your mouth so close to his ear so erotically.

Ethan actually whined at the abruptness enough to knock him out of whatever bliss he had felt just seconds ago, his eyes shooting up and sitting up with an uncomfortable groan.

The wet mess in his underwear as he peered from under his blankets at his morning issues.

🔖 ...

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#[ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ ★ — t.wrks. ]#ethan landry #ethan landry smut #ethan landry x reader #jack champion #jack champion x reader #scream 6 #scream 6 smut #ghostface #ghostface x reader #slashers x reader

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amazingabellini · 4 months

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Every Single Thing 621 is Called on Rubicon

Dog Augmented Human C4-621 You 621 Intruder Illegal Enemy AC Merc Corp AC Registration number Rb23 Raven Callsign: Raven Mercenary Corporate Merc Corporate Dog Interloper Military Force Hostile AC Shameless Coral scavenger Independent Mercenary Hunter Sharp A local An Independent A merc who only kills for credits A real merc G13 G13 Raven Kiddo Freelancer Maggot Fake Redgun Tagalong Sewing club member Not a total amateur Not a pro Corporate Vulture Mere pawn Scavenger Hound of Walter Competition Good for nothing Good for something Wretched vulture Unidentified AC Damn Hyena Rotten Money-grubber Corporate scum Enemy backup One of the infamous Walter's hounds Wallclimber War buddies Comrade Buddy Intruder Doser Shameless Corporate Dog Greedy Mercenary Greedy hound Daring A symbol of resolve Only Other Person That Can Keep Up With Me You Again Old Augmentation Recalcitrant Mutt Vermin Pest The Pest of Rubicon Code 15 Raven the Wallclimber Code 31C Solo Independent Mercenary Pitiful Dog Gen 4 Fine hound Another dead dog Older type of Augmented Human Tourist No ordinary tourist Smart Cookie No slouch A cut above the rest Not afraid of anything Belongs in a museum Freak My favorite little Tourist A certain someone New friend The Freelancer from the dam raid Target Walter's Hound Solo AC Independent Merc Trespasser to Rubicon Walking Advertisement Mascot AC of Unknown Affiliation Suspected Corporate Hire Single AC Code 5, Unknown AC Independent Mercenary Assembly That AC Hostile AC Priority Subject for Termination One helluva merc Hired Operative Intruding AC Grunt Famous Mercenary Fine Soldier One Loose End Corpse Quick on the uptake Not like those savages Cur Scoundrel Oathbreaker Just an AC Patchwork AC Better than the other ACs Like a bird in flight Killer Menace to Rubicon Target for Termination Unknown Intruder Intrusion Attempt Menace Volunteer The Objective Just a Gen 4 Strong Worthy of your name False Alarm Impostor Impressive Pilot Wormkiller Threat to Planetary Closure 20 Iguazus A Real Redgun Not so Special Too Dangerous to Keep Around Not Afraid to Die The Only G13 Who's Managed To Live This Long Strong A Threat Dangerous Another Threat to Rubicon Veteran The Mercenary Who Took Your Name Rat Fool The Big One Corporate pawn Rather Extraordinary Gen 4 Augmentation High Level Threat Strong Candidate One of Allmind's The One Rusty was talking about Head in the Clouds Old-Gen Alive Handler's Hound Old Colleague Subject Beast of burden Guest of Honor The Key Smartass Freelancer Wonderful People Demon Miserable Relic Trigger for the Change to come Dog without a shred of intelligence Not worthy of humanity Stray Dog Obstacle Faithful Hound Biggest Threat Legacy Augmentation The Greatest Obstacle The Liberator of Rubicon The only one The Spark of War The Fires that Haunt Rubicon The Monster who Burned the Stars One With Allmind Aberrations to The Plan Trigger for Coral Release Irregular The Old-Gen Who Could Do It All

The Freelancer Who Had It All

#ac6 #ac6 spoilers #c4 621 #augmented human c4 621 #armored core 6 #armored core #why did i do this #armored core vi #acvi #armored core fires of rubicon #raven #registration number rb23 #g13 #g13 raven

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periwinklemoonlight · 4 months

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desperate for a minute in the light ⋆ boatem knights au

my third short story set in bee @applestruda 's boatem knights au and canon to the plot written by zera @hopepetal !! this is a big one!

cw: death, graphic injury, body horror

if you prefer, you can read it on ao3!

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It all was a bit of a blur. Pearl wasn’t sure if she could recount how exactly she had stumbled across the ancient temple in her journey, if she was honest. She had just been wandering around the forest on the outskirts of camp, and maybe travelled a bit too far in when she’d broken off from the others. She was sure that she would’ve seen a structure as big as this one earlier, though. Or that someone else had seen it, at least. The thing practically towered over the treetops around it.

Pearl tiptoed around fallen tree branches, fluttering her wings curiously. The structure sat in the middle of a small clearing, lush with tall grass and decorated with small, vibrant purple flowers. They were in sharp contrast to their surroundings, a stark colour among greens and yellows. She made a mental note to remember to pick a few from their stems when she was on her way back. There was a slightly older girl in her flock that she knew had garnered a great interest in botany recently, and Pearl had thought it a good idea to ask her to identify the flora. She’d also found herself rather interested in plants as of late, though she was always most enamoured with those that matched the lustrous gold colour of her wings.

There was a small path of scattered rocks leading up to the entrance of the temple, barely visible between the blades of grass that hiked up to her waist. The Sun was high in the sky, and at just the right angle for the building to now be casting an ominous shadow over her as she approached ever closer. Its intimidating stature did not deter her; Pearl stepped deeper into the darkness.

It was extraordinarily odd, she had decided, that something like this had been here for what she presumed had to be centuries, if not millennia, and not a single person had ever mentioned it. It was a tall thing, to be sure, although as she looked closer she saw it did not seem to actually be very large beyond its generous entrance. It appeared to Pearl as more of a facade, as if the idea of a structure was all that remained. She wondered what the need for such a building may once have been before time and disrepair had taken hold of it and its architects.

Speculation aside, it was in a terrible state to be sure, with massive chunks of rock missing and an assortment of unidentifiable vines and mosses nearly entirely encompassing what was left. They seemed to crawl in between the cracks of stone and twist into each other like knots. Frail-looking columns teeming with fractures were all that remained to hold it all in place among crumbling walls, though evidently not without much difficulty. All things considered, it was a miracle it was still standing.

The absolute disarray the structure was in made it all the more intriguing that a crescent moon symbol at its forefront was still completely intact, and subsequently, all the more imperative for Pearl to investigate. Or at least, that was how she had reasoned it out in her mind.

Pearl crossed the threshold inside.

She wasn’t expecting to find anything of value inside the old temple when she had entered, much less the prettiest thing she had ever laid eyes upon. There, resting on a crumbling pedestal at the other end of the temple was a beautiful silver crown, adorned with twinkling jewels and iridescent pearls. All her other curiosities were instantly thrown away the moment she saw it. It was magnetic: how she was instantly drawn to the item, and utterly sure that her finding it was no mistake.

Sweet sunlight poured into the temple through half shattered stained glass windows, coating the crown in an alluringly bright glint that made Pearl’s heart swell with excitement. It was perfect. Her flock mates would come back from their search and see her wearing the gorgeous object, shinier than anything any of them had ever seen before, and be unable to resist showering her with praise for her expert find. It wasn’t as though she wasn’t already deeply accustomed to it, though. Being her flock’s golden girl had its perks, undoubtedly, especially in terms of popularity among the other children. The meticulously woven crown of sunflowers in her hair said as much.

Something dark began to build in her as she approached it, however. The closer she got to the object, the more she could swear she smelled something rotting. Every eager step she took was soon punctuated by a feeling of dread that was quickly overtaking the initial exhilaration. Still, she persisted. She couldn’t give up the opportunity of retrieving the crown, couldn't shake off the feeling that something about it was just so right. Something so meant for her, and her alone.

Pearl held her breath as she reached the final steps, though at that point she couldn’t tell whether it was in anticipation or to momentarily relieve herself of the nauseating smell that exuded from every crack in the stone and permeated all her senses. It was wholeheartedly disgusting, but Pearl had never been one to flinch at a little muck. The crown was just as beautiful up close, every jewel shining in a vibrant technicolour that by all accounts should have been impossible. She wanted nothing more than to take it for herself, place it upon her head and declare her rightful place as queen of this old dilapidated structure.

She reached out to grab it, and gasped in shock at the intense burning sensation that instantly spread from the metal’s surface to her fingertips. Then, it all went dark. Though it was midday, the light that had been streaming into the temple vanished at once, as if someone had forcefully put the Sun to rest and brought upon night. The only light now was a faint, ghoulish glow emitting from the crown as it continued to singe her fingers.

Pearl screamed in pain, though it only fell on the deaf ears of the dark. The sound reverberated around the temple walls, surrounding her in a claustrophobic cacophony of her own agony as the smell of flesh burning filled the air.

She watched in frozen horror as the skin on her fingers began to melt and rot before her eyes. Flesh bubbled and sloughed off as the burning spread down her palm, then her arm, until it creeped into her shoulder and threatened to seep into her wings. Pearl cried out again, bony fingers trembling uncontrollably as the rot began to trace her spine. Chills wracked exposed bone as warm blood ran down her back. Her feathers withered into ash as quickly as hair catching flame. As the pain began to paralyze her body entirely, Pearl thought, while she still had the capacity to think, anyone, anything, please, help me.

Her vision began to fizzle out entirely, and what was left of her collapsed on the temple floor as she finally let go of the wretched item, fingers fully limp. It was far too late, though. Seconds, maybe minutes, maybe years of agony seared through her body as she lay helpless, the crown fallen somewhere just out of reach. And then, it all stopped.

Pearl wasn’t anywhere, and she was everywhere.

A new type of darkness encapsulated her, this one deeper, more primordial than the first. No, not the absence of light as it had once been, but rather the essence of darkness itself. Although she knew it was dark, she could not see. No senses passed through her as she drifted meaninglessly, unsure if she was falling or rising or even moving at all.

It was peaceful, yes. It couldn’t be anything but. Nothing around her, nothing against her, nothing for her, she was nothing just the same. All that was left was a deep, insurmountable emptiness. The emptiness that held the fabric of the universe together, the negative space to fill the gaps to keep it all from falling apart at the seams. Pearl might have felt fear, being surrounded by nothing and everything, if she had still been capable of anything at all.

Pearl spent forever in the silent nothingness, and no time at all had passed when she first heard it. A faint single tone, low but not deep, floated around her. Pearl clung onto the sensation desperately, trying to grasp at it, take it for herself and hold it tight to her chest. Instead, she followed it as it slowly became louder, more solid. The pitch increased, then dropped and mellowed out in the middle once more. The melody was the brightest thing she had ever seen in a long, long time.

She followed its lead, doing something akin to opening her mouth to sing along, wanting to join this light in its song. She did not, of course. She had no mouth to sing with, and no voice to produce noise. She was just Pearl. Still, she chased the tone, which had since then evolved into a simple melody, repeating itself patiently, taking care to never get ahead of itself or change its pace. The melody had all the time in the world. It knew Pearl did, too.

She felt herself be guided by the song, mirroring its tones with her movements. When it dipped, she dived down with it. When it rose, she soared. The vocalisations carried her like a current, weaving Pearl through its highs and lows.

And then, all at once, nothing was dark or ever had been dark. A brightness enveloped her, so purely light that darkness would never dare step close to it, lest it cease to exist entirely. It knew better. The melody had evolved too, the chiming tones teetering on the edge of resembling words. Pearl could not make them out.

Instead, she allowed the song to engulf her as well, feeling two blankets of light drape across something that could have been her back. Gently, the song washed over her and flowed like a lullaby, rendering her into something akin to sleep. Suddenly, after spending eternity in absence, she was something again. The light became brighter, heavier, thicker, until it was no longer encasing her. It was her.

The light was as bright as it ever could be, and suddenly it was dark again.

And cold. And wet. And sticky. And gross. Pearl opened her eyes, and found herself exactly where she’d ought to have been. Collapsed before the pedestal, yet bathed in the same warm light of midday. Except, something was very, very wrong. She lifted herself weakly off the temple floor onto her elbows, finding her hands covered in a black sludgy substance. Brown, wilted petals and leaves lay where her head had been. Pearl’s vision blurred and spun, and she blinked it away as best as she could, trying to orient herself to having a body again.

She wiped the sludge off her hand on something white and soft, a fuzzy substance resting gently underneath her as if it had broken her fall all this time. Its edges appeared torn and frayed. She attempted to raise herself up further, and was met with an intense ache in her back that caused her to double over again in pain. She inhaled sharply — she was breathing, she could breathe— and tried again, this time successfully balancing onto her knees.

She made a half hearted attempt to flutter her wings, feeling panic start to surge through her when they felt wrong. Lighter. The familiar weight of hollow bones and strong muscle on Pearl’s back was replaced with something featherlight and delicate, though she would bet that whatever was there wasn’t feathers at all.

With trembling hands, Pearl reached up over her ear to feel the texture of the small wings that resided there, the panic bubbling inside her as she felt nothing but smooth skin and clumps of wet hair where soft feathers should be. No, no, no.

Her hand traveled higher, threading through her hair and stopping at her forehead. No, that wasn’t right. Her hand was stopped. By an antenna, sticking out of her head just where her bangs began. She grasped it, and promptly cried out in pain at just how sensitive it was, her nerves on fire. And then it hit her. She was feeling what it felt. It was a part of her.

There, sitting covered in sludge-like black goo and on top of a silk cocoon, at the crest of a worn down temple in the middle of nowhere, Pearl screamed. And this time, it was heard.

She had only just managed to get herself to stand on her own two feet again when she heard twigs snapping and familiar voices chattering nervously, getting closer. Pearl balanced herself with great difficulty, the lightness on her back still disorienting. Slowly, achingly, she stepped forwards off of the silk and onto the cold, gritty temple floor once more.

“Pearl?” an approaching voice called out, stretching out her name. “Where are you? Are you okay?” Pearl opened her mouth to speak and screamed again as black sludge poured out and trailed down her chin, evidently not yet all spilled on the floor behind her. The noise alerted her flockmates, though, and the footsteps drawing near increased in speed tenfold as she spat out the rest of the sludge, feeling utterly disgusted.

“Pearl!” they called again. “Are you in here?” A flurry of voices accompanied the cry, getting closer and closer until Pearl could finally see them approaching her. The leader of the search party, a girl with dandelion coloured wings, was the first to enter the temple, and the first to see her. The others quickly appeared at her sides as the girl cried out in shock, clasping her hands over her mouth and stumbling backwards. The rest of the search party followed suit similarly, gasping and yelling as they laid eyes on her.

Panic quickly returned to light Pearl’s nerves ablaze and replace the small shred of hope that had been building when she’d first heard them approach. She tried to speak again once more and found that her throat, terribly dry despite being choked with sludge moments ago, could only produce a croak that tore into her vocal cords like shards of glass. Tears formed in her eyes as another drop of sludge fell to the floor in front of her. She could see on their terrified faces and through their hushed whispers to each other that she had only moments to plead her case.

Desperately, Pearl gestured behind her where she knew the silver crown had dropped from her hand, unsure what she expected to happen but hoping they would notice it nonetheless. Something, anything. Instead, what she said was a conveniently placed pile of ash that just so happened to create a perfect ring shape. Pearl wailed in frustration, the sensation ripping through her throat.

“Oh my void, she’s a monster!” one of her flockmates, a girl about her age with pretty amber wings, shrieked through tears as she clung to her friend. As soon as Pearl took a single step forward, she knew it was over. The other girls all screamed and ran as fast as their feet could take them out of the temple, each clamouring to be the first to escape.

On wobbly legs, Pearl followed them, chasing just as desperately she did that melody in the darkness. She couldn’t let her hope run away from her.

One of the slower girls dared to look back and screeched to the others, “She’s following us!” Those who had exited the temple now scrambled to take flight, pausing only to pull the last of their flockmates along with them into the sky. They had already risen high into the sky by the time Pearl made it out, the tall grass beneath them entirely trampled in their haste. Purple flowers lay pathetically: half-lodged in dirt, disregarded. Pearl’s eyes darted upwards at her fair-weather friends and she grit her teeth, determined to fly after them despite her badly aching body.

Pearl jumped and flapped her thin wings uselessly, embarrassingly unacquainted with the new protrusions on her back. She managed to hover in the air for only a moment before she came crashing down onto herself, her already bruised limbs now meeting solid ground. She didn’t try to get up again.

Instead, Pearl lay there in the dirt, shivering and crying unabashedly into her arms as her flitty wings twitched, unable to do anything as her flockmates abandoned her as quickly as they’d found her. When she’d finally mustered up the resolve to lift her head up, she was greeted with a single amber feather that had fallen just inches away from her.

⋆⋆⋆

Pearl had gone silent in front of Grian, her words now replaced with shaky breaths and sniffles. He finally let go of her hair and let it fall against her back, having finished braiding it long ago.

“Pearl?” He asked gently. “Are you okay?” She didn’t say anything for a moment, and he used the opportunity to slide himself beside her. Soft blankets crumpled around him. A simple glance revealed what he already knew: quiet tears were streaming down her face. She turned her head away from him to wipe them, suddenly aware he could see them now.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m alright,” Pearl breathed. She faced him again, unable to hide the smile that creeped up into her cheeks when she saw his silly worried expression. “Honest.”

“Are you sure? We can stop now if you want-”

“Griba,” Pearl interrupted. “I want to tell you. I don’t think there’s anyone on this planet who deserves to know more than you. Will you let me do that?” Grian’s shoulders relaxed.

“Of course, yeah.” He looked sheepish. “Sorry.” Pearl elbowed him playfully.

“It’s alright, mate. Really. It’s been on my mind for a while now.”

“So… what happened next?” Grian asked. Pearl took a breath before continuing.

“Well, for starters, I had to get all that muck off me. So I took a little dip in the nearest river. I don’t blame them for not recognizing me at first, now. It stained my hair and clothes black for a while. I still looked like a completely different person by the time I went back to camp.”

“You went back?”

Pearl laughed. “What choice did I have? There was no place for me there anymore, I knew that, but there wasn’t exactly a place for me anywhere else, either. So I went back. They… I’m not quite sure they knew what to do with me. They tolerated me, which was all I could have ever asked for at that point. Well. Pretended to tolerate me. But that was all I needed. I could tell as soon as I got there that everyone already knew everything they needed to. How the other kids had found me, that I was a… moth.” She paused for a moment, sniffling again.

“Everyone was gathering up to leave camp. By the time I got there, they’d already begun to pack their things, so I did the same. We always travelled light, of course, but I can’t tell you how happy I was to finally get myself a change of clothes. I was wearing my favourite dress that day, you know? Green, with lovely droopy shoulders and little bits of gold to match my wings. And it was ruined, covered in nasty muck and drenched in river water, just like the rest of me. I think I burned it. The night they all left.”

Grian tilted his head to the side, trying not to intrude on her space but wanting to be closer nonetheless. He thought of the choice he had made all those years ago, the look on his little brother’s face when it happened. A hand grasped tightly in his own, wings wrapped even tighter. He imagined Pearl in his place. To be loved one minute and left behind all the same. “You didn’t have any family in your flock?” As soon as the question left his lips, he regretted it.

Pearl winced, her face scrunching up. Another tear dropped down her cheek. “I did.”

Grian looked as though he was about to give her a million apologies, but instead, he silently wrapped his wing around her, brushing his feathers against her shoulder as if to say, I’m here now. And I’m not leaving.

Pearl continued. “I did try to leave with them, don’t get me wrong. By then, I had actually figured out how to fly a little with these things.” She spread her wings out for a moment before flattening them out again.

“But it wasn’t enough. I couldn’t keep up with them normally, not by a long shot, and especially not in the middle of a storm like the one that was raging that night. I would have never admitted it to myself back then, but I’m certain now that they left when they did very much on purpose. They wanted to make sure there was no way I could follow. And they were right, I couldn’t. I did make it farther than I thought I would’ve, higher too actually, but void, was the wind strong. I was tumblin’ around like a leaf in the air trying to keep up. I tried for a good long while until I just couldn’t anymore. And then I fell.” Grian pressed his lips together, his mind suddenly conjuring up another familiar image. Yellow feathers stained red, caught on tree branches and littered in the grass below. He knew all too well the consequences of an avian falling.

“I was one of the lucky ones, I guess you could say. My wings, flimsy as they were, — are —, were okay for the most part. It was my leg that took the blow the hardest. The break was pretty bad, I won’t lie to you. It was only another stroke of luck that saved me. There was a village nearby, barely visible from wherever I’d landed. But it was there. So, one more time, I chased it. I propped myself up on my good leg as best I could, and I was going to drag myself over to that darn village if it was the last thing I did.” Inexplicably to Grian, she giggled after she spoke. His expression said it all, and Pearl laughed again.

“Sorry, sorry. I’m just thinking about it. I must’ve been quite a sight to those poor village folk! Covered in mud, leg twisted all the wrong way, soaking wet in the storm! I think that was the beginning of my whole ‘wet cat’ shtick, honestly.”

“Pearl, you could’ve died, I don’t think-” Grian began.

“I know I could’ve died!” she squawked, throwing her hands up. “But it just, I don’t know, it didn’t really scare me anymore. I didn’t want to die, mind you, but I had just kinda thought, well, I was going to live, or I wasn’t. Simple as that. And hey! Look at me now! I’m still kickin’, aren’t I?”

Grian couldn’t imagine it. All his life, above all else, he had been determined to survive. There wasn’t any other option. He'd tell himself he would live to see the Sun rise another day, and somehow, he would. Death was not something to come to terms with, shake hands with, tell I’ll see you later. It was something to fend off, teeth and soul bared, and triumph against despite all odds. There was simply too much life had to offer to him, and he would be a fool to refuse it.

“That you are, Pearl,” he smiled, poking her with his knee. Pearl returned the favour with an exaggerated kick to his shin with the leg she’d been swinging back and forth off the edge of her bed. Grian yelped dramatically.

“And don’t you forget it! Where was I? Oh, yes yes, the village. Well, I did make it over there in the end.” Pearl looked wistful. Grian waited patiently for her to continue again, but the moment never came. After a good long while, he spoke.

“...And then?” He asked.

“And then?” Pearl slinked her braid over her shoulder. It really was nicely done, each strand placed with clear care. “And then I met you, doofus. And Jimmy. And it was the best darn thing to ever happen to me.”

#boatem knights au #bkau #pearlescentmoon #my writing #grian #cw death #cw injury #cw body horror #skyblings

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troglobite · 6 months

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cool so after watching the character creation session zero they posted today, brennan's choices re: sean's revenge are like. DEEPLY fucking symbolic. (hi @fluidstatick lol time to post abt it)

spenser talking about the death rituals in newfaire, how they keep the mouth closed and covered (often w gold) and place the hands over the mouth to prevent the soul from wandering

and how there'll be like pins and metaphorical stitching around the graveyards to corral the spirits of soldiers and unidentified dead, since it was impossible for their loved ones to perform the ritual of keeping the mouth closed to keep their soul inside

so. brennan chooses. a baseball. that has stitching on it, of course, and the stitches create an endless loop like a mobius strip.

and when he goes to kill the five men that the creature brings to him

he shoots a couple of them in the face. blasting their mouths wide open. damning their souls to an eternity of wandering.

and another, he shoves the baseball into his mouth--forcing it open and closed at the same. he can't speak or fight back, and his mouth is held open as sean beats him to death. mouth open, soul doomed to wander for eternity.

and with their hands tied behind their backs.

and the baseball already represented tony and jimmy, and specifically called forth that it was for THEM that sean sought revenge.

and

the stitching and symbolism of the baseball

it is meant to representationally carry and contain the spirits of tony and jimmy

they did not, could not receive the same death rites

who knows if tony ever made it back to a newfaire graveyard

who knows what they do with the body of a "traitor"

but this baseball. it has stitching in that loops forever, on and on. it keeps them inside and safe. sean literally tosses the ball around and traces the stitching like a rosary (bc spenser literally said, fantasy catholicisim).

and he tells his ma to not wash the ball, to keep it intact.

hey brennan, i just wanna fucking talk

about how you took everything spenser said and made some fucking incredible detail choices which are EVEN MORE DEVASTATING now that we have the same contextual world knowledge that you were given

FUCK

#candela obscura #circle of needle and thread #brennan lee mulligan #fuck man i'm experiencing Even More Emotions #like there was too much cool shit in that fucking character creation session to list but this realization knocked me on my fucking ass #roman/fluidstatick figured out the face shooting thing and then i was like THE FUCKING BASEBALL #THIS FUCKING GAME AND FUCKING BRENNAN MAN GODDAMNIT

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sw5w · 2 months

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I'm Not Gonna Get in Trouble, Am I?

STAR WARS EPISODE I: The Phantom Menace - Deleted Scene: Anakin’s Return 00:14

#Star Wars #Episode I #The Phantom Menace #deleted scene #Anakin’s Return #Naboo #Theed Hangar #holoprojector #R2-D2 #unidentified symbol #Futhark #Anakin Skywalker #tactical scope #navigation scan #systems monitor #cockpit canopy #windshield

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iwtvfanevents · 1 month

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Rewind the Tape —Episode 2

Art of the episode

Just like we did for the pilot, we took note of the art shown and mentioned in the second episode while we rewatched it, and we are sharing our findings with you. Did we miss any? Can you help us put a name to the unidentified ones? Do you have any thoughts about how these references could be interpreted?

Unnamed painting by Marius de Romanus

Created for the show (uncredited artist).

Armand (still "Rashid") tells Daniel that Marius was a contemporary of Tintoretto (1518-1594).

Transformation

Ron Bechet, 2021

Bechet is a New Orleans-born visual artist. He's a relative of the early jazz pioneer Sidney Bechet. [Identified by Gizmodo's Linda Codega, here.] Exhibition Prospect.5 says about the collection this piece belongs to: "Bechet carefully renders the ways vines wrap themselves around trees for support and access to sunlight. At times, this relationship serves both the vine and the tree. Works such as Transformation depict a harmonious symbiosis, as tree and vine both flourish. (...) Through his immersive compositions, Bechet invites us to see history and ourselves in relationship to the beauty, power, and violence of the natural world." And, from Xula Gallery: "Here, we are gifted with the physical proximity of life and death – How they share the same organic space, how they sleep together as equals. The flora of South Louisiana's natural landscape is cleaved open to expose its roots. (...) Here is botany that has every potential of becoming monstrous. All of these meanderings are used to symbolize the deep historical roots of a family home and exhibits the precariousness of nature, both human and environmental, with all of its nurturing and destructive potential. (...) It is a diaspora body, skin folded back to reveal its elegant and resilient backbone."

Untitled photographs

Vivian Maier, undated

Maier was a street photographer whose work was discovered and distributed after her death —she took more than 150,000 photographs during her life, and never printed or circulated any. You can learn more about how her work came to light here. We don't actually see the third picture, which hangs to the left, until episode four. Interestingly, that one is a self-portrait.

Dancers

Edgar Degas, 1899

Degas produced countless paintings of ballerinas throughout his career. While he is often considered an impressionist, he himself saw himself more as a realist and preferred harsh gritty subjects of working class backgrounds. Ballerinas at the time often came from working class or poor families and worked intense grueling hours. [Identified by @nicodelenfent, here.]

Berthe Morisot with a Fan

Edouard Manet, 1872

Manet was one of the first 19th-century artists to paint modern life, as well as a pivotal figure in the transition from Realism to Impressionism. The portrait in this scene shows his close friend, painter Berthe Morisot, wearing mourning blacks after the death of her father, but wearing a wedding ring —she was engaged to Manet's brother. [Identified by @nicodelenfent.]

Portrait of Erich Lederer

Egon Schiele, 1912

The Schiele depicts a young Erich Lederer, son of art collectors Serena and August Lederer, whose collection was looted by the Gestapo. [Identified by @nicodelenfent.]

Paddy Flannigan

George Bellows, 1908

The Bellows depicts a young impoverished boy on the streets of New York. [Identified by @nicodelenfent.]

A Doll's House

Henrik Ibsen, 1879

Lestat tells Louis "They'll seat us late, and we'll miss Nora's entrance with the Christmas tree," which quite a few fans soon identified as a reference to this play, in which a housewife becomes slowly disillusioned with marital life and eventually leaves her husband. This conclusion led to the play being banned in certain countries, such as Germany and Britain, and Ibsen was compelled to write an alternative ending, in which Nora's husband forced her to stay. In the two stage productions pictured above, you can see Kelsey Brennan and Nate Burger on the left, and Assad Zaman and Anjana Vasan on the right.

Unnamed paintings of Papa du Lac and Paul

Created for the show (uncredited artist).

Unidentified painting*

* The running theory is that the woman in this painting is Gabrielle, Lestat's mother; which would mean this is another uncredited prop painted for the show.

Woman in A Fur Coat

Edouard Manet, 1879

Additionally, on the bottom left corner of the frame you can catch a glimpse of another unidentified painting, but we couldn't get any clearer looks of it either.

Autumn at Arkville

Alexander H. Wyant, 1909

The one in the mirror and the one on the other side of the door are too blurry, but we managed to place the one on top of the couch! [Identified by @vfevermillion.]

The Lone Tenement

George Bellows, 1909

The National Gallery of Art says about this painting: "Bellows has imbued the composition with a sense of eerie wistfulness, recording the precarious positions of those who were being displaced to make way for the future." [Identified by @nicodelenfent.]

Don Pascuale

Gaetano Donizetti, 1842

The opera that Louis and Lestat go to at the end of the episode follows an elderly bachelor, who gets conned by his nephew Ernesto and his friend Malatesta into marrying the nephew's lover, Norina, under false pretenses. You can find a complete synopsis here.

The Storm On The Sea Of Galilee

Rembrandt van Rijn, 1633

Rembrant van Rijn, Dutch Baroque painter and printmaker from the 17th century, is best known for his biblical and allegorical pieces. Rembrandt's only seascape was stolen from the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum in Boston on March 18th, 1990, alongside other 12 works of art. The case remains unsolved. [Identified by Gizmodo's Linda Codega.]

If you spot or put a name to any other references, let us know if you'd like us to add them with credit to the post!

This week, we will be rewatching and discussing Episode 3, Is My Very Nature That of a Devil. We can't wait to hear your thoughts!

And, if you're just getting caught up, learn all about our group rewatch here ►

#louis de pointe du lac #daniel molloy #lestat de lioncourt #vampterview #interview with the vampire #iwtv #amc interview with the vampire #interview with the vampire amc #amc iwtv #iwtv amc #IWTVfanevents #rewind the tape #after the phantoms of your former self #analysis and meta #art of the episode

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medieval-elephants · 8 months

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Elephants agog in the synagogue

This mosaic of a wide-eyed elephant was discovered by archaeologists in a fifth-century synagogue in Huqoq, Galilee. It is part of a scene where a white-haired Jewish leader confronts a general in Greek garb and his troops, including elephants. There has been a lot of debate about exactly who the two central figures are: was the warrior Alexander? Nero? Are they just symbolic and don't represent any particular incident? To add to the mystery, synagogues from this period rarely depicted non-Biblical events. Jodi Magness, who led the dig that uncovered the mosaic, argued that the elephants show this scene was not Biblical, since elephants do not obviously occur in the Bible (although ivory and some otherwise unidentified big beasts do crop up).

Whatever it depicts, the scene seems to suggest that there was a happy ending and that the war elephants were not deployed! Material: mosaic Date: late 4th or early 5th century AD Origin: Huqoq, Galilee Image source (x)

#elephant #medieval elephants #war elephant #jewish history #mosaic #late antiquity #synagogue art

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pastafossa · 3 months

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Pasta you are an absolute menace…I just figured out where you got Jane Hind from.

The third labor of Heracles: capturing the Ceryneian hind aka a deer that was hunted by him for over a year

“I am definitely not a hound I am instead an animal of prey”

I am not worried you are going to use more events from the story later

(Im kind of embarrassed I didn’t pick it up sooner considering I’m a classics major)

FUCK YESSSSSSS!

Like, I adore Greek Mythology and the classics, and I grew up watching Xena, Hercules, and also hunting down every last Greek and Roman Mythology text my tiny hungry Pasta hands could reach, and so the Hind from the labors absolutely played into it. Her (false) name in my initial drafts and outline was originally just, 'Jane Doe', a placeholder I would swap out a different name for later. But I got used to Jane, and then went, '...wait a fucking SECOND, I know another word for Doe!' Jane Doe -> Jane Hind.

Hind = Doe.

And so her name is symbolic with multiple layers.

Jane Hind is a variation of Jane Doe, aka: no name known, an unidentified person. This was her intent as a joke when she chose it, without really thinking of anything deeper, and so it's absolutely one part pun, but also:

Jane Hind, a play on the Ceryneian Hind, and like you said: 'Definitely no predator here, only prey, *deer noises*' but also a 'Yeah I be runnin from shit and I am FAST and you're gonna have to work to catch me motherfuckers'. She is the trophy that her hunter is searching for, the prey he requires if he wishes to free himself, and at the moment, she is guarded and protected, watched over by the Devil God one who's deemed her sacred. The Evil AU Heracles will have to get around our stand-in Diana if he wants to carry this Hind away. We'll see if he's as successful in Hell's Kitchen as he was in the myth.

Additionally, a little bit of foreshadowing of the myths Ciro taught her (seen again with the story of the Calydonian boar).

I FUCKING LOVE THAT YOU SPOTTED THIS, DO NOT BE SORRY, I RARELY GET TO TALK ABOUT IT.

#the red thread #i love this shit and so when i get an opportunity to put it in it goes in #especially because... Daredevil just *feels* like a world where these myths fit in neatly #because Matt is basically a walking greek tragedy anyway #Weaving in some of those parallels into Jane's story too - different classics than Matt's absolutely but classics all the same - felt...#very fitting i think #And so Jane has unintentionally named herself after the Hind which both speaks to her past and foreshadows her journey ahead

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whats-it-mean · 5 months

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hii could i request natsume x insomniac reader like they stress a lot and he probably tries to cast a spell on them to makes them fall asleep but they resist. if that's okay ofc~

Sleeping spells ☆

Natsume Sakasaki x Reader

A/N - natsume is so hot im so normal about him ahahahahhahahah. also tysm for the req !! ofc its fine, when i saw that i had an enstars req i got so excited lmao, i hope you like this!!

C/W - Use of pet names (kitten specifically bc its natsume), barely mentioned drugs

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You hated when anyone commented on your sleeping habits. You were well aware it was probably unhealthy for you to be staying up all night the way you were, whether voluntarily or not, but at this point you were starting to embrace your more nocturnal sleep schedule. By now you were starting to enjoy the way the sky looked at night compared to during the day, and napping in class wasn’t even that bad.

Until, of course, you practically passed out while overseeing one of Switch’s practices.

You kept on trying to explain to the rest of them that you had just tripped on something, which Tsumugi and Sora seemed to accept after you repeated it 3 or so times, but even as he sighed and escorted you off to the dorm rooms, you could tell by his tone that he saw through your facade.

The moment you were out of earshot from the rest of Switch, he held out an arm to stop you from walking and narrowed his eyes at you.

“You need sleep.”

You huffed, turning your gaze away from him as he said this. “But- Like- It’s not even that big of a deal, as long as I’m still getting through my classes and---”

He gave you an exasperated sigh before offering you a fond, albeit clearly annoyed smile. “It doesn’t work like that, kitten. It’s important that you take care of yourself.” He ruffled your hair a bit, before bringing his hand to his chin and letting out another sigh. “Well, in this case….. I suppose I’ll have to have you stay the night in my dorm for a bit to make sure you actually get some rest.”

You pouted. “What difference will that make? I don’t get much sleep no matter where i go-”

“Have you forgotten that I’m a distinguished magician? I’ll help you fall asleep, don’t worry.” He grinned at you, offering out his hand expectantly, staring at you with those eyes that you had no chance of saying no to, and letting out a little chuckle when you took it. His hand was warm, and he held yours rather carefully as he guided you off to his lodgings, humming a tune all the while.

The dorm room was simple, aside from the mess of scattered papers with what you could only assume to be Tsukasa’s unfinished compositions. There was a small corner dedicated to Natsume’s work, with various symbols outlined in chalk on his desk. Immediately, he gravitated over to the corner with his things, shifting objects around for a moment and mumbling something to himself before he scribbled something in messy handwriting onto a sticky note on the table.

He turned and made his way over to you, where he just smiled at you as if you were supposed to know what was going on.

“Um.. Natsume…?”

He simply kept on giving you that almost unsettling, close-eyes smile before offering you some sort of small bottle, with an unidentified liquid in it that you would have absolutely assumed was drugs if it wasn’t coming from him. He frowned a bit when you hesitated to take the bottle, and placed a hand on his hip.

“It’s perfectly safe, I promise you. It’s just a simple potion to help you sleep.”

You pouted again, taking the bottle after a moment of skepticism. “Do I have to-”

“Yes.”

The boy let out another chuckle at your antics, leaning in for a moment to give you a slight wink. “If you comply and get some rest, you can have a kiss as a reward, okay?”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

#⤥ Mairu Writes !#enstars x reader #ensemble stars x reader #enstars #natsume sakasaki #natsume x reader #natsume sakasaki x reader #ensemble stars #switch ensemble stars #switch enstars #natsume enstars

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blueiskewl · 1 year

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Very Rare Roman Gold Coin is Returned to Greece

A Very Rare Gold Coin, Minted by Brutus to Mark Caesar’s Death, Is Returned to Greece

The gold coin, which dates from 42 B.C. and is valued at $4.2 million, is thought to have been looted from a field near where an army loyal to Brutus camped during the struggle for control of Rome.

A rare and ancient gold coin that morbidly celebrates the stabbing death of Julius Caesar was returned this week to Greek officials by investigators in New York who had determined it was looted and fraudulently put up for sale at auction in 2020.

The coin, known as the “Eid Mar” and valued at $4.2 million, features the face of Marcus Junius Brutus, the onetime friend and ally of Caesar who, along with other Roman senators, murdered him on the Ides of March in 44 B.C. According to historians and experts, Brutus had the coins minted in gold and silver to applaud Caesar’s downfall and to pay his soldiers during the civil war that followed the killing.

The return Tuesday came at a ceremony attended by officials of the Manhattan district attorney’s Antiquities Trafficking Unit and U.S. Homeland Security Investigations, who cooperated on the case.

The coin, one of 29 artifacts returned to Greek officials, was given up earlier this year by an unidentified American billionaire who, investigators said, had bought it in good faith in 2020. The British dealer who helped to arrange the sale was arrested in January, and the coin itself was recovered in February, officials said.

Experts said the coin, minted two years after Caesar’s death, is about the size of a nickel and weighs about 8 grams, and is one of only three known to be in circulation. A silver version of the coin was also minted and about 100 are known to exist. Those can sell for $200,000 to $400,000.

“The Eid Mar is an undisputed masterpiece of ancient coinage,” Mark Salzberg, the chairman of Numismatic Guaranty Corp., which verified the coin but does not research provenances, said in a statement in 2020.

Experts said they believe the coin was likely discovered more than a decade ago in an area of current-day Greece where Brutus and his civil war ally, Gaius Cassius Longinus, were encamped with their army.

The front, or obverse, of the coin features an engraved side view of Brutus and the Latin letters “BRVT IMP” and “L PLAET CEST.” Experts say the former stands for “Brutus, Imperator,” with imperator referring not to emperor but to commander. The latter stands for Lucius Plaetorius Cestianus, who was a treasurer of sorts for Brutus and oversaw the minting and assaying of his coins.

The reverse features two daggers on either side of a cap known as a pileus. The daggers stand for Brutus and Cassius and reflect the manner of Caesar’s death, experts say, while the cap is a symbol of liberty that was worn by freed slaves. Overall, the image is meant to celebrate the murder as an act by which Rome was liberated from Caesar’s tyranny. Beneath the symbols is the Latin inscription “EID MAR,” designating the Ides of March — March 15, 44 B.C. — the fateful day on which the conspirators left Caesar dead on the floor of the Roman Senate.

Historians see irony in the fact that Brutus, who had admonished Caesar before the murder for the self-aggrandizing act of putting his face on Roman coinage, wound up doing the same with his own coins.

Ultimately, the forces who favored the dead Caesar, led by Mark Antony and others, defeated Brutus and his men in October of 42 B.C. at the Second Battle of Philippi, and Brutus and Cassius committed suicide.

According to investigators, the coin is first thought to have come to market between 2013 and 2014. Richard Beale, 38, director of the London-based auction house Roma Numismatics, put it up for sale on his company’s website and over several years shopped it at coin shows in the United States and Europe before it was sold in October 2020. The $4.2 million was the most ever paid for an ancient coin, according to the Numismatic Guaranty Corp.

Mr. Beale is charged with grand larceny in the first degree and several other felonies and was released on his own recognizance. His lawyer, Henry E. Mazurek, declined to comment on the case.

Among the other Greek antiquities repatriated on Tuesday were figurines of people and animals; marble, silver, bronze and clay vessels; and gold and bronze jewelry. Their total value was put at $20 million.

In remarks at the ceremony, Konstantinos Konstantinou, Greece’s consul general in New York, said his country has been hit hard by the illicit trading of antiquities and is seeking their return “in every possible way.”

He praised investigators for “striking down the illegal international criminal networks whose activity distorts the identity of peoples, as it cuts off archaeological finds from their context and transforms them from evidence of people’s history into mere works of art.”

By Tom Mashberg.

#Very Rare Roman Gold Coin is Returned to Greece #Julius Caesar #Marcus Junius Brutus #Eid Mar #gold #gold coin #collectable coin #ancient artifacts #history #history news #ancient history #ancient culture #ancient civilizations #roman history #roman empire #Mark Antony #Second Battle of Philippi #long reads

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jamneuromain · 1 month

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Jam, in honor to the song I was just listening I propose a battle for our reader.

😠 + 😉 with Andy VS Steve. Steve was your first love, Andy is your current amazing love. Fight fight fight (not physical obviously lol🥊!

hmmm.... It's such a tough call! But since Andy is your current amazing love, I rule for-

Ugh I hate ex-bf being all gloating and smug when you meet again

Not Him

Previous Steve Rogers x You; Andy Barber x You

Warning: Ex-Steve, Reader is in her late 20s, Andy a few years older than reader (but not mentioned specifically). None?

Summary: You met someone unexpected, your ex, Steve, on your way to your class. What's the worst that could happen? Answer: Andy happened.

A/N: Hiya! Sorry it took so long to get it out :( I've been clearing my draftbox as best as I can.

Someone called out your name behind your back, and you instinctively snapped your head in that direction.

Blonde, built, and that smile-

"Oh, Steve. Hi." You instantly recognized the man from your past.

You met Steve when you attended high school. While he was the famous football quarterback for the school team, you were practically nobody, and if it weren't for a class you shared, you wouldn't even know each other in your separate lives.

One thing led to another, and you became high school sweethearts, before breaking up a few months later.

"Hey." He jogged up to you. That sunshine-dazzling smile nearly splitting his face in two, "It's been... what, ten years? Wow..." He exclaims, carefully observing you from head to toe.

"Yeah, I mean, I haven't seen you since ... the prom?" You casually switched the pile in your hand to the other, smoothing your T-shirt.

Oh yes, the high school prom where you had two dances before he spent the whole night with the pretty British girl with a posh accent. What's her name? Petra? Penny? Next day, your phone was blasted with Instagram notifications telling you from all aspects and angles how they kissed as Prom King and Queen. Not that you didn't know it already, when you were there, under the stage.

"You-uh heading somewhere?" He pointed at your stack of papers, teasing ever so slightly, "I've seen you still not giving up on studying, huh?"

"Well, I-"

"I'm working as a coach now," He interrupted before you could finish your sentence, flashing his team jacket before your eyes, even tapping on the chest where the team name is visible to any man within eight feet if they weren't complete blind.

"Wow." You nodded, playing along, "Uni team, impressive."

Too bad you were never a decent sports fan that could share Steve's enthusiasm as to which legendary figure saved the day with a ball in their hands - nor did you find being a coach "impressive" ... or intrigued, for that matter, because being in front of glamouring Steve fucking Rogers made you shrink back to your high school self-image again: a small, inconspicuous, socially unidentifiable shadow of a being that you could barely recognize. And yet, the contrast between Steve and you reminded you every single time, that you do not belong to a world of his, a world where books and glasses are symbols of "nerds" or "geeks" and are perfectly fine to make fun of, a world where if you don't like sports - or not being a potential athlete, you should be eliminated in every social context.

"Yup." He popped the "p" with his full lips, "If you want the tickets next season-" Steve pointed towards himself with both thumbs, the lop-sided smile made him look smug as ever, "This guy is your go-to-guy."

More like your never-go-to guy. You scoffed, adjusting your expression to a small smile as soon as he turned his focus on you, "Sorry, I think I need to head to my next class."

"C'mon-" Steve dragged his tone almost annoyingly, "Skip it. Don't you have some time for me, for old time's sake?"

You could have ten more minutes for him before the next class. But you didn't want to. Which was the point.

"Hey, honey." Came a voice behind your back, startling you just a little. An arm draped around your shoulders, squishing you into a familiar embrace, "I've been calling."

You let out a sigh of relief. More so when the owner of this familiar voice took the stack of papers from your arms into his own, and rubbed your sore arm for having to hold the pile for quite a while.

"Sorry." You apologized to your beloved boyfriend Andy, "I must've silenced my phone during the class."

" 's okay." Andy pressed a kiss to your temple, whispering, "Wanted to ask you about lunch anyway. Nothing important." Andy slowly moved his eyes away from yours, and acted as if he had just seen Steve, a 6-foot man who appeared out of nowhere, "Who do we have here? Honey, would you mind introducing?"

"Sure. This is my ex, Steve, from high school. Steve, this is Andy, my boyfriend."

The moment the word "ex" escaped from your lips, you became aware instantly that your boyfriend had entered his suit mode, every available muscle tensing up in his body, and like a good huntsman, ready to strike when he sees the glimpse of a failure of his opponent. Where you hoped that "high school" from your introduction would calm his nerves, it certainly achieved the opposite when you heard your boyfriend say: "Oh..." in a thoughtful way, "the quarterback-captain, am I right?" as he extended his hand to shake Steve's.

Yup. It definitely made Andy slightly on edge.

"I'm part of the coaching team on campus, actually." Steve flashed his identity proudly before Andy, shaking Andy's hand in an equally firm grip, "Go Falcons."

"Oh..." said Andy again, more thoughtfully, "I'm a professor here in the Law School - You wouldn't happen to be the coach assistant of Karl?"

This just turned more competitive than you would think. Yet, it did bring a tinge of amusement when Andy confirmed your suspicion that Steve was too young to be made a coach, while the position of coach assistant was for brainless jocks who did all the dirty work coaches didn't want to, the heavy-lifting and paperworks, for instance.

"Well," Steve sneered, "I thought dating a student was improper conduct, Professor."

"Excuse me?" Andy raised his brows. So did you.

"You heard me." Steve nodded towards you, "Her, a student, obviously. It would be a great unfortunate if the dean might hear about such a rumour somewhere, wouldn't it?"

He said almost challengingly.

Wow. Typical Steve as ever. The girl he dated after prom, the British girl, was rumoured to have had a bad break-up previously. According to gossip that ran in the school bathroom, the British girl was told that her ex was cheating - which turned out to be a false alarm, but they broke up anyway.

Now you guessed you knew who was the little birdie that shared the false information with that poor girl.

Andy snorted out laughter. The corner of his lips could barely contain themselves as he struggled to keep a straight face, "Marvelous." Andy clapped - more like tapping his palm with the other hand, before asking for your permission, "Should you do this or should I?"

You scoffed. Really scoffed in front of the glorious quarterback that you liked a decade ago, "For your information, Steve, I'm working as a lecturer at this university. So, go start your devious little plan elsewhere. If you don't mind, I have a class to teach - C'mon, Andy."

You dragged Andy by his arm and led him out of the battlefield.

"Nice." Andy commented, not bothering to look back at his opponent, with a pleasing grin that was probably going to mold on his face for all eternity. "Did you see the look on that guy's face? Spectacular. So proud of you, Honey."

"Yeah, not my best moment having to face a dickhead-ex." You huffed out, "Jesus, why didn't I know he was that big of a jerk when I started dating him?"

"I know," Andy said, sympathetically, "Don't worry though, I noticed that your choice of man has had a significant change for the better."

You shot him a dirty glare, which Andy took, feigning he just got hit on the chest.

"Sorry, no joking, got it." Andy made a pained face which caused you to involuntarily grin. Quickly abandoning the idea of the ex in his mind, Andy finally returned to the topic for which he came to find you, "What's for lunch again? Cafeteria?"

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