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fangirlingfromdownunder · 9 months

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Creating Comfort From A Shopping Spree

Summary - Part 31 in the Comfort series

Pairing - Dean Winchester x Reader, Reader x Sam (platonic), Reader x Bobby (father-figure), Andre (OG Character) x Reader (best friends)

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Both Cas and Sam give you curious looks as you get up and go to your bedroom to get changed and then make your way to the garage. Taking the red car you make your way into town to the closest mall. You navigate your way through the aisles with a few stops in mind. Your first stop is a jewelry store. You look through the glass at the arrangement of fancy diamond rings glittering under the bright fluorescent lights. But you know they’re all too showy, so you go inside to explore their more subtle offerings.

A young saleswoman in a black dress and fancy jewelry comes up beside you. “Can I help you?”

“Yes actually.” You hold up your left hand showing off your engagement ring. “My fiancé and I are gonna elope and he asked me to pick up the rings.”

“Do you have some put aside or?”

“No. He trusts my judgement to pick them out for us.”

“Alrighty then. What style do you have in mind?”

“We’re definitely not showy people, just something plain, preferably pure silver for both of us.”

She pulls out a box full of silver rings, some with engravings and patterns and some plain. You choose a simple silver ring for each of you and Dean. Once you finish paying for them you stash the ring boxes in your pocket and head to the next store: a women’s formal wear store. You make your way through the aisles browsing through their range of white dresses looking for something that you can see yourself in. You brush past floor length gowns, short tight dresses and puffy ball gowns. You give up on the bridal section, finding it too fancy for your blood and start browsing through the bridesmaid and reception dresses instead. Your eyes land on a knee length white dress with a lace overlay, lace sleeves and a high lace neckline. Just to be sure you take it to the fitting room and try it on. As you admire yourself in the mirror you can’t help but smile. The dress itself fits well but your black sports bra ruins the look and you can see the outline of your dark underwear through the light fabric. You make a mental note to add another stop to your journey as you change back into your normal clothes. You pay for the dress and the cashier folds it nicely in tissue paper and packs it into a white paper bag.

You make your way to the next stop on your list: a lingerie store. As you walk through the doors and inspect the skimpy and sexy bras and g-strings you feel so out of place. You push through the feeling and make a bee-line for the selection of white garments. After another tedious deliberation you settle on a lacy white strapless bra and matching lace panties that cover enough for you to still feel comfortable and modest but are also sexy. At the checkout there’s a display with toys and condoms; you take a box of condoms from the display and place it next to the underwear and the cashier rings it up. Once you pay for everything you stuff them into the bag with the dress and head towards your last stop. On the way to the final store a shoe shop catches your eye. Your eyes land on a simple pair of white platform heels with ankle straps adorned with silver buckles. Deciding to go the full mile you ask the cashier to find them in your size and add them to your haul.

With no further distractions you go to a beauty parlour for your final stop. You ask for the full works: hair trim and style, wax legs and brazilian, mani-pedi, eyebrows and subtle make up. You decide if you’re going to do this you want to do it right. Knowing Bobby’s on his way to Dean, you call Bobby and ask him to fake a case and get Dean in a suit and tie. As you get in your car to head back to the bunker the feeling of dread fills your stomach. You know there’s no guarantee he’ll agree to your plan or even want to see you, but you try to push down the feeling and replace it with hope.

Back in your room you change into the new lingerie, put on deodorant and perfume, then the dress and shoes. Then for pockets, comfort and subtlety you slip one of the flannels Dean left behind over the top of your dress. You stow the rings, knife, gun, and a few of the overpriced condoms in the pockets and then walk out into the kitchen in search of Sam. You’re a little unsteady on the heels for a few steps but you eventually get the hang of it, focusing on your balance and executing each step perfectly. Sam hears the clicking of your heels before you even get into the room and meets you halfway with his gun drawn. His jaw drops when he sees you, along with his gun

“Wow!”

“Is that a good wow?” You ask.

“Ye-yeah, of course. I’m just not used to seeing you like this. So, what? You’re gonna try and sneak up on him in disguise?”

“Not exactly … I plan to get married. I’ve had this ring long enough, it’s time to act on the promise we made.”

“You think Dean’ll agree to that?”

“Not really, but I can be pretty persuasive.”

“You gotta let me come with you then. I can’t miss you and my brother’s wedding.”

“Fine, of course I want you there. But you stay back, let me talk to him alone first.”

“Deal.”

You nod. “Okay, Cas, where are you? It’s go time!”

You feel a breeze behind you and then sense his presence. You turn around to face him. He gives you a confused look and then reaches out to touch your forehead but you stop him right before he makes contact.

“Wait. One more question: as an angel of the lord can you marry us?”

He looks between you and Sam, confused. “You and Sam?”

“No. Me and Dean.”

“You’re already soulmates, your souls are tied to each other for eternity.”

“Then just humour me. Can you read the rites and do the ceremony?”

“It seems redundant in the scheme of things, but sure.”

“It’s really just a symbol. I want him back and I figure it's time to go big or go home. I need to show him how serious I am about us despite the new revelations and challenges.”

“Very well. Shall we go?”

Sam cuts in as you nod, “I’m coming too.”

Cas gives him an indignant look but lifts his fingers to his forehead also. A moment later you’re all standing outside a fancy hotel. You smile and shake your head up at the glass covered building.

“Figures. He knows I’d never look for him somewhere like this. Where are we? Hollywood?” You ask.

“Miami, Florida,” Cas says matter-of-factly.

“Definitely never would’ve thought to come here. He’s good, but not good enough. Which room?”

“He’s not here right now, but when I last checked he was in room 314. Third floor,” Cas says.

“Thanks. I’m gonna go in there and wait for him to come back. You guys go somewhere and keep out of sight. You can’t let him know I’m here before I see him.”

“Of course. Go, before he gets back,” Sam says. He gives you a quick hug before lightly pushing you towards the large glass doors.

You walk inside to the service desk. You hold your head high and put your hands on the desk confidently showing off your engagement ring.

“Hi.” You say trying to get the receptionist’s attention. She walks over to you. “Hi, I want to surprise my fiancé, we’re getting married this weekend. He’s in room 314, I’m just hoping to get a key.”

“I can’t give out the keys to any other customer's room.”

You pull out a $50 note and place it on the bench. “I just want to give him a pre-wedding gift. Please.”

She pulls out a key card with the number 314 printed on it and puts one hand on the $50 as she places the card on the bench. You take the card and let go of the note. You make your way up to his room.

Inside it’s exactly as you’d expected: a mess with mostly empty take out containers, pizza boxes, empty bottles, the sheets are strewn around on the bed and his dirty clothes are all over the room. With your anxiety on overdrive thinking about what he’s going to say, you’re unable to sit still. You start tidying up, putting all the clothes in a pile in the bathroom, you make the bed and stack the rubbish in and near the bin. By the time the room is neater you’re starting to sweat and mess up your hair so you turn the AC down and sit on the edge of the bed to cool down.

Eventually you hear the electric lock beep and the door knob click. You sit up straighter on the bed and quickly try to compose yourself.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Tag list: (Leave a like or comment on this post or let me know below if you want to be added to the tag list for this series)

@bitchwitch1981, @muhahaha303, @justrealizedimmascifygurl, @mcdowell-123, @leigh70, @marvelsmarauder, @losa12308, @tapedeck-hearts, @luvjaida, @peachtxa, @ambearsstuff, @shadow-of-a-cloud, @slut-for-buck, @iprobablyshipit91, @sassy-pelican, @fallenlilangel99, @heavenlyhopeful0, @nelachu2423

#dean winchester x reader #dean x you #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fluff

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sgtbuckyybarnes · 2 years

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So 2022 is really kicking my ass...the Saturday we went to Comic Con I got the text to say my Grandma, my mum’s mum, had passed away.

She was 90, had been ill for 3 years and had been in hospital all of that week but it still hit me. My mum threatened me with my own demise though if I even thought about coming home so I went and had the best time with @tylrposey and our friend Ebony.

I just wanted to write everything that happened here so I can look back on it and remember how much fun we had and how nice people were!

So just going to write about how it was meeting Lesley Ann Brandt, Linden Ashby, Tyler Hoechlin and Tyler Posey and watching the Teen Wolf Panel!

So the first person I met was Lesley Ann Brandt, Maze from Lucifer and Nika from my oc that time! She’s my fave from Lucifer so was the obvious choice for me, but I kinda wish I had also met Aimee Garcia because I’ve seen her pics and stories from meeting her and she seemed so sweet! If only I were rich ey!

Anyway. Lesley was super sweet! I went to her first photo session of the weekend and, with us being diamond pass, was one of the first to have my picture with her. I always make sure I say hi and be super polite because I have seen a few people treat them a bit rudely? Like, I’m paying for this so you’ll do what I want kind of thing.

She gave me this super sweet smile, asked me how I was (and told me she was great when I asked her) then I wasn’t sure how to stand so she said ‘Shall we do a back to back?’ so we did and I think it came out really cute! What I didn’t realise was she then went to wearing her mask with other people so it may have been a safety kind of thing but I still think it came out really nice!

We then went and met Linden Ashby, we all had pics with him so we went together. Ebony went first, then Becca and then me...he is defo a silver fox! What a handsome dude!

And so so nice! Obviously you only get a couple of seconds in the booth with them but he welcomed me with a smile, asked me if I have a preferred side (as Becca had requested which one she stood on!!) then told me I was very welcome after the picture was taken and I said thank you.

He was so nice that we went to his table and got our pictures signed, he sat and spoke to us for ages about how he looked too tan on the pics, how he was enjoying being in the UK etc. He was so easy to talk to!

We left the Saturday quite early, after shopping around the stalls (I love buying art from cons!). It was so hot in the venue with not many places to sit, a long line at the bar and they had taken our drinks off us before we came in.

The next day was the Tylers day!!

Posey was so cute, I did get a bit nervous meeting him because it’s Scott McCall!! But he was all smiles and energy and just made you feel SO welcome. I’ll talk more about him when we get to the auto bit so here’s my pic;

Then we met Hoechlin, he was looking SO cozy in a white jumper and, just like everyone else, was full of smiles and was so welcoming. Even though you only got a few seconds they all really made it feel like an ‘experience’ instead of rushing you through like a few at Liverpool Comic Con did.

After we had the pic taken, me and Becca were in the same one, the girls at the printing stations told me our pic hadn’t printed properly and just handed me a pic of just me?? So I was so confused and they sent me over to some other people to ask them if I could have it reprinted.

So I was just wandering around with this picture of me like ‘help me what do I need to do’ until this woman came and took it off me and was like ‘wait there’.

So I was just like okay?? and I turned to Becca and Ebony and was like ‘what is going on, help me Derek!’ only to turn back around to see actual Derek Hale grinning at me, holding the picture of me up against his face going ‘Are you coming in for another pic or am I posing like this??’ So I grabbed Becca and we went back into the booth for another pic and he was so nice!! He went ‘Second times a charm! But if you need a third, you’ll be very welcome!’

Luckily (sadly?) the printing worked this time but it did mean I got to spend more time with Hoechlin!

(he gave me the picture of me back, my mum has it now hahaha)

After meeting Tyler H we went over and got our Posey autos and let me tell you that boy is an ANGEL. Throughout the weekend we could see his queue and people talking to him and you could just tell that he was being the Sweetest, making sure to give everyone the most time he could. His girlfriend was there as well and she was just as sweet! A few people asked her for selfies etc or spoke to her and she gave them more than enough time without taking away from Tyler.

We ended up being first in the queue because of the passes we had and omg I was literally shaking. I tried to hide it because Becca was so nervous and I had to be the strong one but I am KNOWN for embarrassing myself in front of famous people so there was a risk.

Always, he signed my picture and I introduced Becca as the Scott to my Stiles which he LOVED and he guessed how to spell Becca’s name in one go which he was super happy about. I told him I’d paid for selfies too so he leaned over the table and we took a few pics and I asked him if I could have a hug because all I wanted that weekend was a posey hug :((( and he went “No!” and I was thinking shit I've done it again but he carried on and went “over the table is SHIT I'm coming round there!!” and he came round and gave me a massive hug then asked for my phone again...but it had died!!! So Becca had to give me hers, he took a pic of me and him then was trying to get Becca and Ebony in. I was going “higher!! higher!!!!” because Becca kept trying to hide hahaha

Then I forgot to get my pic he’d signed so he had to chase after me calling my name to give it me back

Ebony also met Dylan Sprayberry who was so nice and had gummy bears stuck to his forehead (?) and had to be moved away from Posey on the Sunday hahaha, I can only imagine the havoc they were causing even with Hoechlin in between them!

We also accidentally stalked Chandler Riggs because his table was in the coolest place in the whole venue and had a breeze going right through it. We ended up getting his auto for Ebony’s uncle tho I’m not sure it wasn’t out of sheer awkwardness. He was very nice but, as someone with a zombie phobia, I hadn’t seem him in TWD haha!

The Teen Wolf panel (which happened in-between meeting the two Tylers) was amazing. They talked about all sorts from their fave take out (Hoechlin doesn’t do take out while Linden talked about one from Hawaii for a g e s), weird fan encounters (Posey said there was no weird, he will accept anything then offered to cut his hair for people in the front row. Sprayberry said someone accidentally put their finger in his armpit when they were posing for the picture the previous day...but that was more weird for them than him), Sprayberry talking about how he had called Linden to help him with an out of control party one time and he showed up in his Beacon Hills sheriff outfit and how Posey wished he had Scott’s dirt bike but it was auctioned off before he could take it or even bid on it! Bless him seeing as Dylan got the jeep!!

Someone brought up Stiles and Kira not being in the movie which they expertly dodged, saying that there was still plenty of other characters coming back, staying very diplomatic which I don’t blame them for!! Someone asked Hoechlin about Sterek...in 2022. He said he supported anything the fans wanted to ship, shipping wasn’t for him but if that’s what people wanna do it’s what they wanna do then Linden talked about how he didn’t understand what shipping meant for so long hahaha

Also they talked about how the movie is set 15 years after the last ep (Posey pointing out that made Scott older than him, when all throughout the show he’d been younger than him) and they don’t have a release date for it yet, they’re definitely excited for us to see what they’ve made though!!

It was just so hot in there and there wasn’t much seating (it was by far the best con I’d been too apart from the lack of seating at the panels and the heat) so I can’t remember much of the panel and Becca had to go for fresh air (so I was worried!).

When we went over to where she was sat Zachary Quinto was randomly chilling outside of the door we were by. I swear every time I went passed his desk he wasn’t there!

But yeah, that was our weekend! I’ve spent the week helping my mum with funeral stuff (Becca managed another weekend away with Westlife idk how!) so it was nice to relive!

If you’ve read this far, thank you and I hope you enjoyed hearing about it!

#comic con Manchester #Tyler Posey #Tyler Hoechlin #Linden Ashby #Lesley Ann Brandt #Teen Wolf #Lucifer

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augment-techs · 10 months

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Music Lyrics and Poetry Line Prompts V

Add the teeth of the wolf to make him hungry//Make him ravenous with lust he can't subdue - Dark Spellbind, by Karliene

I know it gets hard sometimes//But I could never//Leave your side//No matter what I say - Better Than I Know Myself, by Adam Lambert

I'm only human//I've got a skeleton in me//But I'm not the villain//Despite what you're always preaching - Monster, by Paramore

But I've learned how to paint my face//How to earn my keep//How to clean my kill - Children's Work, by Dessa

So I slip away//Where the Sea is deepest - Atlantis, by Karliene

I rode shotgun in his white Camaro my entire sixteenth year - When You Call It a Peacemaker, by Nora Meiners

Silver, platinum//I pass on them//You can have them//I know what I want - Diamond Dolls, the Chipmunk Adventure soundtrack

Two weeks later he assaulted someone else//I'm still carrying the guilt in my purse - Pocket-Sized Feminism, by Blythe Baird

I've got a pain in my sawdust//That's what's the matter with me//Something is wrong with my little insides//I'm just as sick as can be - I've Got a Pain in my Sawdust, Nicole Dollanganger cover

Suicide is a lonely ghost//Desperate to give itself playmates - Every 40 Seconds, by Patrick Roche

If you can't handle this, roll off the mattress//I'm trying to let you know that you're not just another--When you're under the covers, I'm under your thumb//And you're the finest of specimens - Bring the Night On, by Eve 6

For the good fathers//And the person who invented eye glasses - If There was a God, by Olivia Gatwood

I just walked in to find you here with that sad look upon your face - I Will Survive, by Gloria Gaynor

Endlessly struggling against former ways//I will not be called a coward with the choices that I face - The Hero Pt. 2, by Ministry of Magic

Look and understand//Press your lips to me and drink - E., by Catherynne M. Valente

Take a sip of my secret potion//I'll make you fall in love//For a spell that can't be broken//One drop should be enough - Black Magic, by Little Mix

They like to time their fucking, ensuring it begins twenty to forty minutes after I have fallen asleep; and lasts until I have contemplated setting a small fire - Someone Lives in Apartment Four, Brenna Twohy

It should have been me inside that car//It should have been me instead of him (in the dark) - Like We Used To, by A Rocket to the Moon

I learned the telltale signs of disordered eating as a teenager//but as far as I could tell, boys don't get that kind of sick - Hocus Pocus, by Patrick Roche

When the wolves come and hunt me down//I will face them off and stand my ground//Cuz there's a fire burnin' in me//They will see my strength in this love I found//Oh - Hard Love, by NEEDTOBREATHE

I want fingers between my legs//I want heat//I want my fingers slick - Masturbation, by Lillian Olson

I'll be sleeping on the left side of the bed (hey)//Open doors for me and you might get some--kisses - Dear Future Husband, by Meghan Trainor

Show me again, I said. Tell me again not to talk to strangers - Exaggerated Honey, by Elizabeth Metzger

Dregs of black tea leaves, spinach smoothies, red slushies, whatever's in reach around 9 to swallow the pills easy and pink as a sunset - Libations, by Rhiannon McGavin

'On the day you fell through a cloud...' - Love Letter, by Sarah Manguso

#writing prompts #GIMME #boom! comics power rangers #power rangers in general #song lyrics #sentence starters

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fashionstudies-blog · 10 months

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5 Ways to Dress Classy and Elegant

1. Wear the right fit

For petite women: stick to classic cuts and silhouettes because they make you appear taller and leaner – no mini skirts or shoulder pads!

For curvy women: stay away from too-tight dresses, but wear belts and belted jackets to show off your waist – this helps define your curves without being too over the top.

For plus-sized women: Don long, full skirts and buckle belts to balance your body. Basically, belt them big and wear them big!

2. Choose the right colours

Decide which color family you want to emphasize. Reds and oranges can help you look more vibrant. For a serene look, focus on cooler colors like blues and greens.

Red can be hard to pull off (especially if it clashes with your skin tone). Avoid wearing it with white or black if you don’t want to look like a traffic light! Wear red, but pair it with soft colors like pinks, oranges, purples, and yellows – these colors complement each other.

Neutral colors, like black, white, beige, brown, etc., look good together if they are different shades or textures. Your clothes shouldn’t blend together – you want to stand out.

Shades of gray, black, and navy blue can give off a professional vibe. For something more casual, olive green, light pink, and beige can all work well.

For classy plus-size women, the same rules apply, but be careful because darker colors can make you appear bigger than you actually are. Instead of wearing full brown or black dresses, wear black with muted tans and reds – they’ll brighten you up.

3. Wear the right materials

A good rule of thumb is to avoid shiny or flashy fabrics. Cashmere, wool, velvet, or silk are good safe bets, but you can also pick matte jerseys and cotton.

Make sure the color and style of the dress fit the occasion. For example, wool is a great material for a winter suit because it keeps you warm. Cotton is perfect for a summer shirt because it’s breathable. Likewise, silk has a luxurious feel, making it ideal for evening gowns and dress shirts.

Cheap dresses often use polyester and rayon, which are unbreathable. As with lycra, it’s stretchy and tacky. So, we recommend sticking to natural fibers.

4. Examples of classy outfits

Tops: If you want to dress simple but stylishly, pick a floral print blouse or a crisp button-down shirt. Button-up blouses or those with a tie, silk tops, simple tees, or anything that fits well can make you look cute and put together. Try lace or ruffles to add some femininity.

Bottoms:

A pair of jeans or trousers look great when opting for a classy but casual look.

Below-the-knee A-line or pencil skirts look chic with a blouse or button-down shirt.

Tapered pants look great with a nice blouse or blazer for a formal ensemble, as well as with a tank top or t-shirt for an everyday look.

Ankle pants flatter all body types and are versatile for both work and play.

Dresses: A little black dress is always an effortless option for classy dresses, as is a well-fitting shift or shirt dress. A-line, wrap, and sheath dresses are chic clothing styles that look great at any event.

5. Wear classic accessories

Wristwatches: Looking at your wrist is a much classier way to keep track of time while you’re out in a meeting or on a date.

Handbags: Consider the purpose. For carrying all of your stuff, choose a big satchel or tote. Something more formal? Try a clutch or small handbag.

Sunglasses: A summer must-have! Pick simple, understated designs without too much detail or embellishment. A good pair of cat-eye or tortoise-shell sunglasses looks elegant in natural colors. To spruce up your look, pick a frame in a neutral color like navy or gray.

Jewelry: You don’t have to buy Tiffany & Co. jewelry to look elegant – know what pieces to wear at what times. Go for one statement neckpiece and avoid layering heavy jewelry. For earrings, go for statement earrings or simple silver, pearl, gold, or diamond studs. Don’t be afraid of timeless pieces like rose gold bracelets.

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kumarshivam · 2 years

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How To Use Jewellery To Match Your Personality And Your Outfit

Jewellery is one of the best things that almost every woman loves more than anything else. It is, in fact, essential to finish the outfit of a woman.

You can add colour and style to your outfit with the right jewellery. However, the wrong jewellery can spoil a beautiful look.

When dressing for an event, the perfect cocktail dress can look classy when paired with the wrong outfit. That's why learning how to use new stylish jewellery is so important. It's easy to know how to wear the right accessory.

Here's how to choose jewellery for any outfit. Remember some important things while buying jewellery for saris, lehengas, salwar kameez, kurtis, jeans, tops, skirts, tunics, trousers, shorts, or other outfits.

Accessorise according to Occasion:

A festival, wedding or cocktail party is the time to bring out the heavy jewellery. It gives you an excellent opportunity to choose from gorgeous, heavy, and fancy gold jewellery. From gold chokers with uncut diamonds to cocktail rings, chandelier earrings, and exquisitely cut gold bracelets, shop the finest jewellery for your Special Occasion.

A casual party with friends is the best time to experiment with your look. Try brand-new stylish jewellery and monster-size jewellery.

Small gold rings, earrings, folding bracelets, or gold and diamond bracelets are perfect for office parties and regular wear.

Jewellery according to your skin tone:

Choose the metal and stone of your new stylish jewellery wisely. It should reflect your personality and match your outfit and skin tone.

For example, silver generally brightens any skin tone. In contrast, gold goes well with dark hair and fair skin. Red, purple and blue gemstones blend beautifully with ivory tones. White gold is also a great alternative for people with ivory skin tones. Yellow, orange, green, and yellow metal jewellery goes well with bright skin tones.

Choose jewellery according to your style:

Shopping for jewellery will become a lot easier if you have a certain aesthetic of your style that you want to stick to.

Your style of clothing can help you to determine your style of jewellery. Are your clothes boring with black and leather? Or would you like to dress more elegantly, with simple lines and neat, sophisticated details? Or maybe you like a relaxed style with a bohemian touch, lots of jeans, and brightly coloured tops. Those with a sharp look can opt for layered necklaces, lots of metal, and chunky earrings. You can use classic or new stylish jewellery for a sophisticated look.

Select the focal piece:

To create attention, it is better to choose a focal point. You can create an edgy and chic look by combining many bold items. And your jewellery can overwhelm your look instead of complementing it.

Think about the main types of jewellery, such as earrings, necklaces, bracelets, and rings. You must choose one or at most two categories with each outfit in which the jewellery is a statement element.

Concluding lines:

Mastering jewellery is something anyone can and should do. The new stylish jewellery can take your look to the next level, highlight your character and express your unique style. That's why it's a good idea to learn how to accessorize your clothes.

You can visit the website of Aashir for high quality trendiest designs at pocket-friendly prices. They have a wide range of collections from western and Indian to fusion wear. Moreover, the service and the promptness of their customer care are appreciable. Visit their website for a variety of designs that can help you to choose your piece of jewelry easily.

#modern handmade jewellery #new stylish jewellery #stylish jewellery #stylish jewellery set

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ghostdrew22 · 3 years

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Shut Up || Draco Malfoy

Requested: No Pairing: Draco Malfoy x gryffindor!fem!reader Warnings: implications of sex, alcohol and drugs, asshole!hermione and swearing

Summary: Not a lot of Y/N’s fellow Gryffindor’s approve of her relationship with the Slytherin Prince, despite the fact that he makes you immeasurably happy and his own friends accept you.

WORDS : 1788

Lyric snippets I used are from “shut up” by Ariana Grande and they’re not in chronological order.

<~>

“My presence sweet and my aura bright,”

“Y/N, you’re so lovable and that begs the question; what are you doing with this insufferable git?” Blaise perks up with a smirk as he sits across from Draco and Y/N in the Great Hall for breakfast.

Beside him Pansy Parkinson nudges his ribs softly and gives you a bright smile, “Don’t listen to him. Draco’s okay once you get to know him.”  “Okay?” Draco scoffs out as he chokes on a bite of his apple- making you and Pansy erupt in a fit of giggles. “8 years of friendship and that’s all I get?”

“Be grateful, I wanted to say less intolerable.”

“You love me and you know it.” He grumbles as he moves back to eating his apple- his hand resting faintly on the small of your back as you turn to look up at him.

“It’s very hard not to.” You say with a smile as you drop a kiss on his cheek- making him grin widely and turn rapidly to catch your lips against his own. Your kiss earns a grin from Blaise and a groan from Pansy- even though they’re both very happy that their friend is in love.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve the sun herself.” He whispers once your lips finally part and you smile goofily at his words.

“Stop.” You giggle out and he shakes his head before whispering that he never will, and allowing you to go back to eating.

You don’t miss the awkward stares being thrown toward you from the Gryffindor table but you ignore them- choosing instead to focus on the butterflies erupting in your stomach and the smiles of glee that your new beau’s friends are blinding you with from across the Slytherin table.

~~~

“diamonds good for my appetite.”

You and Draco are spending the Summer together at the Malfoy Manor since your parents are hardly ever around with work anyway and Narcissa practically begged you to come.

“Happy birthday Y/N!” Mrs Malfoy exclaims as she hands you a small box, the size of a journal, with black wrapping and a green ribbon. You and Draco are sitting on a couch that’s on side of the Malfoy’s living room, and his parents are sat on another couch on the opposite side of the room. Narcissa and Draco are beaming and Lucius is looking rather indifferent from his spot beside his wife.

“Thank you so much…” You respond with a faltering smile as you turn beside you to catch your boyfriend’s eyes in confusion, “But my birthday was months ago.”

“We know darling but we couldn’t owl the gift to you because it’s quite valuable, and we wanted to see your face when you opened it.”

“You really didn’t have to get me anyt-“

“Nonsense Y/N, we wanted to.”

“That’s really kind, thank you so much.” You smile shyly up at them and Narcissa laughs lightly.

“Now open it! We’re itching to see your reaction.”

You do as the Malfoy matriarch says and unwrap the gift, finding a black, velvet jewellery case beneath the wrapping. A gasp escapes your lips when you open the case and find a diamond necklace encased inside.

“This is too mu-“ You start but Narcissa is already laughing and shaking her head.

“Don’t even try to talk us out of giving it to you.”

“Are you sure?” You ask as your eyes scan over the glistening jewels that surround the silver chain.

“Draco, put it on her.” Lucius suddenly interjects- shocking you all.

Draco does as his father tells him to and hooks the necklace around your neck before softly dropping the diamonds just below your collarbone. Lucius gets up from the couch, grabs a nearby small mirror, and walks toward you and Draco.

“Aren’t you sure?” He asks as he puts the mirror in front of you and allows you to see it on yourself.

Another gasp escapes your lips as you trail your fingers around the shining material, the light from one of the windows hitting it just right. “I am.” You finally breathe out with a smile, “Thank you so much, it’s exquisite.”

“Oh darling it was no trouble, I wasn’t going to wear it.” Narcissa says as she also stands up and comes to meet her husband in front of you- intertwining their fingers together- “Besides, it’s only right you start dressing like a Malfoy now.” She winks at you before pulling her husband out of the room and leaving you to be with Draco alone.

You try to resist the urge to smile like an idiot at her comment about you becoming a Malfoy.

“That’s coming out of my inheritance so I hope you like it.” Draco says with a smirk as he eyes you.

“Dra-“

“But it’s okay if you don’t, we can pick something else out if you like.” He smiles softly at you and you feel your entire insides melt at his words- the diamonds are exquisite, you can’t lie, but they mean way less than Draco’s determination to satisfy you to your heart’s content.

You smile back at him in awe, “I love it, it’s perfect.”

“Are you sure?” He raises his eyebrows.

You bring your lips up to his and cup his cheek softly before parting away from him with a smile, “Does that answer your question?”

~~~

“I vibrate high and my circle lit.”

Slytherins are nothing like Gryffindors when it comes to partying, they’re a completely different league. Draco was initially scared to bring you along to one of his house exclusive parties because he was worried that you wouldn’t enjoy them, or you wouldn’t like him afterwards, but Pansy was having none of it and insisted that you come along with the three of them and get, as she worded it, absolutely wrecked.

And absolutely wrecked do you get.

At first you’re a bit hesitant- still processing the shock of finding 7th years snorting white lines off Salazar’s ancient desk- but Draco eases you into it and ensures you that you don’t need to try anything that you don’t want to. So you start slow, taking your time with a glass of firewhiskey while the boy beside you tries his best to outdrink Blaise and keep his attention on you- he’s definitely not beating Blaise though, not when all he can think about is dragging you off into a corner and-

“Hey Y/N, have you ever gotten high?” Pansy interrupts his train of thought and you nod your head at her question.

Usually you just get drunk at parties but if Neville’s around he usually doesn’t mind sharing a joint with you. “Yes, a few times.”

“Want to smoke now?” She raises her eyebrows at you.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to love- don’t feel pressured.” Draco says in your ear and you smile, turning your face to give him a quick kiss.

“I’m not drunk anyway so let’s do it.”

Soon enough you are as high as a bloody kite, hopping up and down to some muggle song they’re blasting on the speakers, one hand in the air and another tightly gripping the arm that Draco has wrapped around your waist from behind, trying to sing along with Pansy. The vibes in the Slytherin common room are nothing like you’d expected them to be. You’d anticipated unnecessarily expensive alcohol, boring music, snooty glances being thrown your way and absolutely no dancing but it’s nothing like that, instead there’s people bouncing off the walls, cheap alcohol everywhere, incredible muggle music surrounding you and everyone has been immensely inviting toward you the whole night- to the point where they’ve invited you to come back.

The Slytherins are nothing like Gryffindors when it comes to partying, and although a few of them are a bit too hardcore for you to keep up with, Draco and his friends are the perfect people to party with. When they all let their guards down, have a few drinks and hear the right song playing they have the most excitement you’d ever seen in your life. Partying with them is an incredible sensation- they’re exciting and fun and friendly, and they honestly make you feel breathless.

Draco in particular is letting loose a side of him that you’ve never seen before- laughing it up with everyone that approaches you, excitedly dragging you around the room to see all the different aspects of a Slytherin party and dancing, he hasn’t stopped dancing with you all night.

“You give off good vibrations!” Pansy yells over the music and Blaise nods in agreement.

“I didn’t think anyone would ever be able to keep up with the three of us but Draco picked you well.” Blaise adds and you playfully scoff.

“If anything, I picked him.”

“And how lucky was I at that?” He laughs and looks down at you to kiss you.

“Very lucky.” You mumble with a goofy smile once he pulls away and as soon as your eyes lock you both know- it’s time to go. You barely have time to say goodbye to Blaise and Pansy before he’s dragging you up to his prefect dorm and slamming the door shut behind you both.

~~~

“How you been spending your time? How you be using your tongue? You be so worried ‘bout mine, can’t even get yourself none.”

“So maybe you should shut up.”

“Y/N, I’ll never understand why you’re going out with this foul, loathsome gi-“

“Hermione, when was the last time you had a good shag?” You interrupt the Gryffindor- having had enough of her rude insults barricading your boyfriend. Beside you Draco chokes on the bottle of water he was drinking and widens his eyes at you.

“What?” Hermione asks, clearly flustered, as her cheeks turn a bright shade of pink.

“A good shag. When was the last time you were fucked senseless?” You ask again and inch close enough for your lips to be right by her ear, “Because I can tell you when last I was… Last night, prefect dorm, two hours of heavenly bliss.”

“Y/N!” She exclaims as she pulls away from you in shock and embarrassment, “That’s wildly inappropriate.”

“Indeed, it is.” You offer a smile, “So I suggest you stop talking so much shit with that tongue of yours before I tell you what Draco likes to do to me with his.”

Hermione nods- still in shock- and quickly turns to leave. You turn to face your boyfriend- who has the biggest smile of admiration on his face- with a smirk and he chuckles once Hermione is out of earshot. “Bloody hell, I don’t deserve you.”

“Not at all.” You smirk and pull a few feet away from him so that you can slowly open the first two buttons of your blouse in the empty hallway, “But maybe you can try to.”

 “My room, now.”

<~>

i hate that little scene with lucius but i literally can’t write it out because i can’t unthink the idea- that probably sounds ridiculous.

Anyway, this is just a small, cute, IMPULSIVE idea I got one day after listening to ‘shut up’ by Ariana Grande. Some soft fluff for the Gryffindors.

anyway, love you all

jean <3

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levi-my-beloved · 3 years

Text

Birds of a Feather

Chapter one

Pairings: Canon!Levi x F!reader

Content warnings: violence, swearing

Word count: 4K

Summary: You were the most notorious criminal in the Underground City. With your organisation of highly skilled professionals, only one man could take you down. He also happened to be Humanity’s Strongest… and your ex.

A/N: asdfghjkl hello there. so, this has been on my brain for a while now, so i started this as just a drabble. what i thought would stay as just a drabble turned into this 22k+ multi chapter fic because i have zero self restraint or self respect. i’m currently finishing chapter 5 as this is being posted, but i want to keep chapters posted around once every two weeks so i can keep up with the workload. maybe once a week if i start feeling spicy. yeah plot twist this is actually the second time i’ve drafted this up. the first time i managed to get everything done and in order and then manages to delete the entire post with my huge disgusting thumbs. Genuinely felt like crying for a good half an hour.

This is also my first Levi fic! yay! lmk if it sucks and idk i’ll cry or something. nah, in all seriousness please send me criticism cuz i really want to improve and critiques are the best way.

𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔

“How down, Raven?”

“Six feet.”

Within the dank confines of a stinking alleyway, two green capes marked with the Military Police insignia crept ever closer to the taller, run-down building upon which you and your little squad of Shadows were now perched. No sunlight illuminated your position. Not that you’d ever seen the sun, or know what it even looked like, but you based your guesses upon the pathetic rays shining through the grates littering the ceiling of the Underground City.

The language you used with your Shadows, coded words translated to:

‘How do you want them to be dealt with?’

‘Death.’

It was something developed by your late guardian and mentor, Viper. See, you all had aliases in The Nest, your criminal organisation. The leader was often referred to as The Raven, however your mentor preferred to use his own nickname, stemming from his own reputation.

Then come the aliases for your Shadows. Prongs was your second, a tall, stern looking man with the black mask of a stag settled across his features.

Then came Wolf, and you swore the first time you’d set eyes on him, you thought a titan had wandered into the city. He was enormous, all 6ft 6ins of him carved in hard muscle. Slicked back silver hair and a beard that to rival a bear. Similar to Prongs, a mask sat upon his face, resembling that of a snarling wolf.

Following him was Verdant, Scales and Diablo. Your power trio. Though their special talents lay in different professions, get these three together and they were borderline unstoppable. A white mask decorated with three broad maple leaves obscured Verdant’s pretty features, Scales sported a bronze half mask etched with a snake-like diamond pattern, whilst Diablo, your trained escort, had opted for something that accentuated her own gorgeous features, a mask of black leather arcing high onto her brow on the left side, whilst the right arced low by her jaw. Though you were already spoken for, you couldn’t deny the beauty of Diablo. She did wonders when prying information between the legs of a moaning MP.

To your left crouched the twins, Una and Leaf. Una was gifted her name by none other than you yourself, after seeing her accuracy with a rifle. A single shot was all it took, from any distance. She wore no mask, something you’d allowed simply because she’d complained about the sight obstruction when lining up a shot. You’d agreed, but only under the condition that she wore a low hood. Her fiercely protective brother Leaf had chewed you out for that, but you knew he meant well. Leaf was good at what he did, excellent, in fact. Which was part of the reason you kept him on as a Shadow. The larger part was that you were damn fond of him. Of all of them, in fact. You loved every single one of your Shadows. Every single damned member of The Nest, you adored. You were their leader, afterall.

A masked helmet of black leather, similar material to Diablo’s, perched snug upon your own features. The hooked beak and obsidian feathers of a raven decorated the necessity, covering your face and hair, though leaving your lower features visible. It was a rite of passage, for you especially, and it signalled the start of your leadership.

“Una, set up. Verdant, Prongs, roundabout. Wolf…” your eyes slid to the giant man on your right, a dark smile slicing across your mouth. “Heel.”

The boulder of a man visibly sagged, clearly disappointed at your orders whilst the others sprang into action. Prongs and Verdant leapt across the rooftops in separate directions whilst Una removed her rifle from her back, parting her heavy cloak to reveal rounds and rounds of bullets strapped across her body. Leaf nestled closer into her side, whilst the other four took a step back. It was obvious you’d all been at this for a very long time, despite the twins not looking a day older than sixteen. In fact, most of your squad was younger than you, save for Wolf and Prongs, who had served their respective roles twice previously.

Sitting back on your heels, you watched your team get to work, the warmth of pride blossoming in your chest. Whilst you knew Prongs and Wolf were already incredibly skilled, the rest had flourished under your leadership. It had been ten years since you’d witnessed MPs put a bullet through your mentor’s skull. Ten long years since you’d taken up leadership and expanded the reaches of The Nest. Honestly, you were pretty proud of yourself, and none more so than when you watched your Shadows do what they do best.

Taking care of unwanted visitors.

Una took aim, resting the butt of her rifle in the crook of her shoulder, staring down the makeshift scope. She would be ready to take care of the two soldiers if either Prongs or Verdant failed to eliminate their targets.

Speaking of which…

That kernel of pride ignited as your (E/C) eyes followed Verdant’s careful, calculating form dropping from the rooftops above the alleyway, in sync with Prong’s own movements. The two assassins swooped with the grace of a stooping hawk, the silver glint of metal caught your eye as they both brandished their blades, before sinking the steel into the necks of the two soldiers. You didn’t need to be closer to see they were both dead. Expert precision. Deadly accuracy. That was why these people were your hand-picked Shadows. And why you were the most formidable gang leader in the Underground City. Your little criminal organisation had expanded into something to rival the killcount of Kenny the Ripper. You couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought.

Una lowered her weapon, strapping it back in the buckles between her shoulder blades.

“Finished.” she simply stated, turning back to drop down between the shattered tiles and splintered ceiling beams that marked your entrance and exit to this lookout point.

“Rendezvous back at The Nest,” you ordered flatly, before dropping forward and into the alleyway below.

“Anything?” you ask, a brow raised behind your raven mask as you saunter over. Prongs held up two sets of blades from one of the crimson bodies now gathering dirt and grime. Useless to you as they were, but somebody would definitely find an interest in them. Verdant seemed to be struggling with the straps of whatever gear these mosquitoes used to fly around. You’d never been able to figure out how to use it, but that shit made good money when in doubt. However, your usual buyers had disappeared off the face of the city, and you’d noticed a decline in gear sales since then. Gritting your teeth, you shook your head to Verdant, laying a hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t. It’s not worth it. The thug trio haven’t been back in years. I doubt they’d return to us now,” you explain softly, prompting the girl to stop her struggles and huff defeatedly. You’re heart ached softly at the thought of him, but you pushed the feeling down.

“Here,” she muttered, handing you another rifle. It seemed to be a newer model, something of an upgrade for Una.

“You did good, Ver. I’m proud of you,” that seemed to immediately lighten the girl’s mood, her eyes shining behind her mask as her mouth widened into a toothy grin.

“Thanks Raven!” she beamed, before scampering off back to The Nest, almost forgetting to take the gun back from your outstretched hand in her haste to make it back and tell everyone she’d received a compliment from you. It wasn’t an everyday occurrence. Rather it only happened once in a blue moon…

A huffed chuckle had your head turning and eyes narrowing to your second in command.

“Can I help you?” you ask, your tone dripping with the poisonous threat of hell if he chose his next words poorly. But Prongs continued to smile ever so slightly, shaking his head.

“Not at all, Raven. It’s just, in the last few years, since you drafted her into the Shadows, she’s really come into her own,” Prongs explained simply, shrugging as she stooped to kick over the now drained corpse, hoping to find anything useful. You bristle ever so slightly. That was something you hated. Compliments. How the fuck were you supposed to respond? You tried to think back to when Viper tried to teach you simple social skills.

“Uh, yeah. She has,” you respond, keeping your features as neutral as you could as you turned away, beginning to trudge back to The Nest.

“I’m serious, Rave. You’ve done incredible things for us. You know Viper would be proud of you. I am too. But…” Prongs trailed off, clearing having something to say but not knowing how to say it.

“Go on. But what?” you pressed, wanting to hear what your second in command had to say.

“Well, don’t you think it’s a bit much? Rave, it’s been years. Eyes have started looking in our direction since those three vanished. You don’t think we should be lying low for a bit? Calming suspicions instead of rousing them?” Prongs offered gently. You knew, deep down, he was right. But some notable gang disappearing hasn’t stopped you before, and it sure as hell wouldn’t stop you now.

“I’ll talk to Scar about it,” even just the mention of your advisor, and wife’s name gave your stomach butterflies. Scarlett Obsidine, your other, and better, half. After the disappearance of a certain dark haired man, Scar was the woman who comforted you, and though you missed him dearly, your heart managed to haphazardly piece itself back together and love all over again.

“Rave, listen—“

“Let’s go,” Prongs closed his mouth, the tone of your voice stating clearly that this matter wasn’t up for discussion. Especially not with him.

⎈⎈⎈⎈⎈⎈⎈⎈

“You know he’s right,” you couldn’t help but sigh when your wife’s soft tones calmed your irritated mood. Soft hands gently kneaded at the tense muscles in your shoulders, forcing them to relax as a tired moan escaped your lips. Leaning back, you peer into her shining sapphire eyes, locks of brunette framing your face as she took the sides of your cheeks in her hands and leaned down, softly pecking your lips with her own. You couldn’t help humming a smile against her mouth, reaching up to deepen the kiss, but she pulled away before you could.

“Scaaaaar…” you pout, looking up at her mischievous smirk as she winked playfully.

“(Y/N)...” Scarlett sighed, swinging her legs over your body to sink into your lap, one thumb now caressing one of the most prominent features on your face. A nasty, jagged scar ran down from the the top of your forehead, over your right eye and finishing just past your jaw bone. One (E/C) iris lighter than the other as a result of the old wound. Soft lips chase away the shadows of your past as Scarlett replaced her thumb with her mouth.

“(Y/N), I don’t want to find you dead in some alleyway because you picked a fight you couldn’t win,” a finger poked your chest as she huffed above you, feigning irritation. You roll your eyes, (E/C) landing on your gear now strung across the table. That raven helmet almost calling to you as you shook your head. Disagreeing with your wife was never a good idea, but you were feeling particularly bold this evening.

“Look. So many jobs have opened up recently. We have so many opportunities to make this life more comfortable. More jobs means more money, more money means we can afford the gate toll and actually see the world above ground. And I can finally buy you an actual ring.”. Technically, you two weren’t married. Who the fuck would be stupid enough to perform marriage ceremonies in the underground City? But, it was easier than saying you were devoted to each other in every single way.

Lightly smacking your chest, Scarlett raised herself from your lap with a hefty sigh. “One of these days (Y/N), you’re going to be captured or killed,” she said quietly, unable to meet your eyes. “And then what the hell will I do…?” Scarlett had now completely turned away from you, shoulders hunched. Running a hand down your face, you pick your sore body up from the chair, reaching her in a matter of strides.

“I can’t give this up, Scar. You know that. You knew that when you chose to be with me. You knew The Nest was always going to be my priority,” you held out your arm, hand hovering over her back, not sure whether to comfort her or let her go. The admission almost had her in tears, you could tell by the way her shoulders shook ever so gently.

“You still miss him don’t you?” It was her vulnerable, defeated tone that alerted you to the slight change of topic.

You fell silent, not really knowing how to respond. Yes, of course you missed him. You loved him more than anything. But those days are over, you knew that. You’d cried enough those following nights after his disappearance.

He was probably dead anyway.

“Of course I do,” you wouldn’t lie to her. That wasn’t fair. But you knew the truth was just as painful for her.

“Will I ever be enough? Will I ever be enough to replace him?” the sound of her voice had your heart in pieces. You loved Scarlett. You really did. But your heart wouldn’t let you love her wholly. Part of yourself will always be dedicated to that grumpy kid you’d fallen for all those years ago.

“Scar… I—”

“I know,” she whispered, stepping forward away from your outstretched grasp. “I know,” you watched as the woman you loved, and who loved you, stepped from your shared quarters, hovering in the doorway. “I’m sorry I asked,” she closed the door as she left, leaving you a frustrated, conflicted mess.

⎈⎈⎈⎈⎈⎈⎈⎈

“Understood, I’ll bring them in right away. Thank you Niles,” The Commander of the MPs stood opposite Erwin, arms folded. An expression of irritation plastered on his sunken features. Erwin simply sighed, realising Niles was wanting to stay for this seemingly impromptu meeting. With a nod of his head, a cadet rushed off to find the two soldiers mentioned in their little conversation. Being Commander of the Scouts often had its perks, like having cadets around to run errands for him.

Niles cleared his throat, taking a seat on the green leather sofa within Erwin’s office. “You sure he’d help us? I mean, it wasn’t too long ago he actually decided killing you was probably a bad idea.”—he raised a thin brow, peering at Erwin with barely concealed suspicion—“I’m pretty sure the Underground City would be the last place he’d want to return.” a knock at the door cut their conversation short, both turning their heads as Erwin called;

“Enter.”

Hange was the first to make her presence known, poking her head in as she opened the door. A smile adorned the slightly dishevelled section commander, her hair sticking up in all directions. Clearly she had been in the middle of something when Erwin requested her presence.

“You asked to see us, Erwin?” her eyes sparkling with curiosity behind her glasses as she stepped through the door.

“Tch, just make it quick, I have shit to do,” the monotone voice of Levi behind her made Erwin pinch the bridge of his nose. How many times has he told him not to talk to him like that?

“Yes, come in and make yourselves comfortable.” Hange immediately took up a seat next to Niles on the sofa, Levi preferring to stand against the now closed door, arms folded. Erwin’s sharp eyes shifted to Niles, an indication for the MP Commander to speak.

“Well, no point in beating around the bush. We’ve received an anonymous tip about some criminal gang that’s been plaguing my soldiers in the Underground City.” Levi visibly stiffened at the mention of his old home. His jaw tensed in anticipation. There would be only one reason he would be called into such a discussion, and the answer was a firm no.

Without his permission, his mind flashed back to a (H/C) girl, her face etched with that ever mischievous smirk. He quelled the thoughts as quickly as he could. He needed his wits with him, and allowing his mind to wander back to what he’d left behind wouldn’t help anything. Besides, the likelihood of you being alive was close to none.

“Section Commander, I don’t suppose you would have heard of the group but Captain Levi here surely would have done. The Nest.” Niles continued, now eyeing Levi to gage his reaction. And for a man whose emotions were usually on a tight leash, this seemed to be what cracked his impenetrable walls. His eyes flew wide open, frantically searching between Niles and Erwin. They couldn’t be serious. The Nest? That was where Farlan and Isobel used to—

Shit, he really needed to keep his thoughts at bay. But what he did know was that The Nest was an impenetrable fortress of criminal activity. Trying to mess with them was suicide.

“Judging by your reaction, I’m going to assume you are familiar with them, Levi,” Erwin’s surprisingly calm tone eased the growing tension in the room. Taking a subtle breath to calm himself, Levi’s eyes narrowed to his commander.

“Yeah. I know of it. Why?” it was a rhetorical question, he already knew why, but he wanted to hear it from Erwin himself. Hange looked incredibly confused, looking between the men in the office, trying to glean something, anything, about what the hell was going on.

“The Nest? Why are they so bad?” she asked, not afraid to show how completely oblivious she is to anything that doesn’t concern titans or science. Erwin gestured to Levi.

“Levi? Care to explain? You probably know more than myself and Niles combined,” though his voice seemed kind, there was a slight edge to his deep tones. One that didn’t go unnoticed by Levi.

A heavy silence filled the room as the Captain wracked his brain for all the information he could think of regarding the organisation. It seemed like hours before he finally spoke.

“Well, you got one thing right. The Nest is a criminal organisation. A nasty one at that. Merciless bastards. Whether you’re a soldier or a citizen, they don’t give a shit. They’ll leave you a broken, bloodied mess in the street. I don’t know much about their leader. Only that he took over from the previous one around ten-ish years ago. Since then, they’ve expanded their shitty little gang and taken over an entire section of the city,” he explained, poison lacing his tone. It wasn’t that he was above the whole gang thing, oh no. It was more the state Farlan would be in before he left to meet whoever the fuck led that group of demons. He’d never seen his friend so anxious. So afraid.

“You never met him? Their leader?” Erwin inquired, lacing his hands together on the desk in front of him. Levi scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“If I had, I would tell you. But I know he’s smart. And not the good kind of smart. The kind of smart where he would always be ten steps ahead of you. He has a small group of trusted criminals surrounding him at all times, called his Shadows. They’ll be the ones to look out for,” Despite his voice sounding bored, Levi’s heart was racing. They couldn’t seriously be thinking of facing The Nest, could they? But something in the expressions of both Niles and Erwin told him he was wrong. Dead wrong.

“They’ve been picking off my soldiers. Always in the same places as well. I was going to leave it, just tell them to avoid certain areas until this tip. Their next job. We know what it is,” Niles interjected, looking down to the floor, his own mind a whirlwind.

“And you want to intercept them. The same way you did with me, right?” Levi finished through gritted teeth. This was absurd. There was no way they could pick them all off. Unless… that wasn’t the goal. Levi’s grey eyes widened slightly, realising what they wanted to do. Yep, this was total suicide. Hange clapped her hands together almost excitedly, as if she was also able to read Erwin’s mind.

“You want to capture him! The leader! Ah! This all makes so much sense now, I was starting to wonder why I was here,” the scientist mused almost to herself, before jumping to her feet. “This is the perfect opportunity to test some of the concept traps I have in mind. Obviously for titans they’d need to be much, MUCH bigger. And of course a few modifications would have to be made so they could adapt to size and body type but oooooooh this is so exciting! I’ll start right away!'' Without allowing anybody to get a word in edgeways, Hange dashed back to her lab to begin her preparations.

“Thank you Erwin, the Military Police will remember this,” Niles said, before he too was rising from his seat. Throwing Levi an unsure glance, he made his way towards the door, only to be shoved into the hallway by Levi, who promptly closed the door behind him.

“Don’t.” he simply said, turning back to Erwin who was peering at him, his expression puzzled. Levi rolled his eyes again, clearly having to clarify what he meant. “Don’t pursue them. It’s suicide,” The Commander’s expression relaxed slightly in understanding.

“We don’t have a choice, Levi. Not only are hundreds of MPs being slaughtered down there, but relationships between the Scouts and the MPs are strenuous at best. It would be in our best interests to—“

“Bullshit.”

Erwin sighed again, having to hold his tongue. Snapping at Levi now for his language would only rile up the man more.

“Levi, we already have a plan in motion. There are soldiers down there now meeting whoever gave us that anonymous tip to further discuss the job The Nest has taken. It’ll be fine, but you’re going to have to trust me.” Erwin’s eyes bore into Levi’s own, the man once again asking his Captain to trust him in a risky call he’s made. Levi’s done it so many times before, why was it so difficult now?

It took yet another pregnant silence before Levi eventually yielded.

“Fine, but don’t be surprised when we’re once again forced to retreat with our tails between our legs.” it was a savage comment, but one that Erwin didn’t take to heart as he watched the raven haired man leave. Yes, this was a risk, but all his risks so far had worked out fairly well. There was no reason why this one would fail. No reason at all.

Levi leant against the door to Erwin’s office, looking down the hallway before letting loose a long breath. Not only would he have to go toe to toe with The Raven, but he also had to face so much of his past he’d wanted to forget. Fuck, this was a terrible idea. Why did Erwin always have to gamble? It was exhausting for everyone else involved.

Folding his arms, the shorter man strode back to his own office, lost in thought the entire way. Would he see you again? Were you even alive? Did you know just how much he had missed you. Just how much he’d wanted to see you again. To hold you again.

Did you know he’d looked for you? How his heart shattered over and over again each time he found no trace of you. He’d never accepted you were gone. Always holding onto that thorn of hope that maybe, just maybe, you’d survived.

Collapsing in his chair behind his desk, Levi unlocked the bottom draw and gently pulled it out. He delicately picked out a small, ebony bird feather you’d crafted into a quill pen. Even though neither of you knew how to write, you knew back then how much he had wanted to learn despite never voicing it directly. All those nights spent copying out basic letters from discarded newspapers and wanted posters. You always had this way of reading his mind.

The smallest fond smile crept across his usually bored face. God he missed you. It had been years and he still missed you like he only lost you yesterday.

#levi attack on titan #captain levi #snk levi #levi x reader #aot x reader #aot x y/n #aot x you #levi x you #levi x y/n #shingeki no kyojin #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you

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internalsealpanic · 3 years

Text

Love Through the Ages (Jason Todd)

Summary: Love like baggage needs to be declared.

a/n: This is part three of a series that is a fic rec list disguised as a fic. For these fics, most of the characters will be speaking different languages, so unless specified otherwise assume that the characters are speaking in the first language I mention. They’re all vampires with centuries under their belt. Why wouldn’t I make them all polyglots. Also, thank you to the proof reading gang for putting up with my shenanigans. I will have links to the fics I recommend in the fic itself. ALSO, y'all can thank @littleredwing89 for the poem that comes up.

Warnings: Everyone is dramatic.

Masterlist

Series Masterlist.

You tap at your phone screen, planting seeds in a satisfyingly hypnotic rhythm, the sounds of the train vacillating in and out of your periphery. It was soothing having your own compartment, a little world you can isolate yourself in while you anxiously await for the inevitable.

It wasn’t a secret that you found Gotham stressful. It was about as much a secret as Tony Stark’s civilian identity. You pulled your knees up to your chest at the thought. Big cities were stressful but Gotham was a different beast entirely. It was a writhing monster of steel and smoke. You wrinkle your nose deciding to sweep the thought away.

Instead, you concentrate on your plants and your farm. You wince looking at your journal. It looks like you’d forgotten another quest. Pursing your lips, you decide to turn your phone off for a bit and pretend the NPCs can sort it out on their own as you look out the window.

You lean against the wall, pressing your cheek to the cool window. You can’t help but smile to yourself thinking of a sea of black curly hair interrupted by a shock of white, sea green eye perpetually alight with mischief or intelligence (9 times out of 10, you really couldn’t tell which it was.), freckles like star map, and a mouth permanently set in a cocky grin. It’s hard not to smile like an idiot when thinking of Jason Todd.

Your skirt flutters in the wind as you dance your way through the crowd, bobbing up and down on your tiptoes over the sea of humans. Sometimes the smell of them still makes your mouth water but not now, not when the smell of Gotham is so pungent in the air.

You see a gloved hand wave at you on the other side of the crowd. You pin your sunhat against your head as you rush through the crowd, your luggage dragging behind you.

Jason waves a two fingered salute at you in front of a motorcycle, his foot clearly stomping a cigarette. You toss your hat to him. It flutters over the crowd. Jason catches it easily, putting it on his own head.

"Hey Princess, welcome back." Jason greets, the syllables of your native French gliding off of his tongue so easily. Fighting down a blush, you swallow your own greeting. Jason would have been a great ambassador in a different life were he not inclined to murder someone with a desert spoon for being a jackass.

He offers his hat back to you, but you shake your head. "You might freckle too much in Gotham's sunny weather." He gives you a hearty chuckle keeping the hat on.

"Missed you too, princess."

You roll your eyes. Pinching your nose, you look around. "You forgot to tell me to bring a gas mask."

"Every city smells like this."

"Darling, you've been in Gotham for too long."

"And you've been in your French villa for too long." Jason says, putting his sunglasses on you. You glare at him through them.

"First of all, it's a cottage."

Jason snorts, "As if that makes a difference. It's still in the idyllic French countryside, isn't it?"

"I-"

"I rest my case."

You cross your arms. "You're welcome to visit, you know?" It was a hopeful suggestion at best.

"We both know the quiet will drive me crazy."

"I said visit," you say, "besides, I think the train ride alone would drive you up the wall." You remember how Jason is with tight spaces.

"Not with you there." Jason winks.

Your heart presses a bruise into your throat and you hate Jason Peter Todd all over again.

"Ah yes, you plan on driving me mad. Evil. Truly evil of you." You say, grinning back at him.

"Here's a wild idea, how bout we just not listen to Roy? How does that sound?" Jason gently suggests, handing you your offensively pink cup of caffeinated goop. Jason can smell the sickening amount of sweeteners added. He might gag.

"Nope," you say, smiling at him as you slurp your ooze. Jason's stomach rolls. Alfred would have an aneurysm. "He was even nice enough to get us both tickets." You hand him one, fingers brushing against his. They felt calloused as they always did. Jason suppresses any oncoming reaction.

He instead turns his attention to the ticket in his hands. Love Through the Ages: Gotham Museum Exhibition on expressions of love. Jason runs through the numbers. "These are $59 each."

"So sweet of him, isn't it?" You chirp adorably.

Jason makes a mental note to kill both of you. "You're only going along with this cus you want to watch me suffer." Jason says, slumping his chair. His foot kicks out to tap your foot.

"I'm doing it affectionately," you say, tapping his foot with yours. "Besides, it's a universal pass time at this point." You swirl your drink and grin at him. It was your real grin, all bright and eager and stupidly sweet. Something in Jason's chest twists. It's always hard to breathe when you smile at him but really Jason would rather all the oxygen in the atmosphere be burned up than see your smile disappear.

He sounds dramatic and he knows that but still he knows it's true.

"C'mon Jay, it'll be fun."

Shoulders slouched, Jason smiles at you indulgently. "Fun for who?"

"Mainly me but you can have fun too."

"You are so lucky you're adorable when you're being evil."

Your smile brightens and with a tap of his foot against yours, he thinks he'll survive whatever Roy has in store for him.

You and Jason have been walking around the museum for quite a bit with Jason's arm wrapped tightly around your shoulders and homicide radiating off of him every time someone even looks at you funny. He'd said that the arm slung around your shoulder was so that you wouldn't get lost. As for the homicide, he elected to ignore the question entirely.

You flush as Jason quotes another line from 'Master Valentine' back to you. You definitely regret letting him house sit. You regret even more not hiding your books. You squirm as Jason whispers the quote in your ear in a husky drawl. The erotica in the book is amazing and you're normally comfortable with talking to Jason about everything, but this- this was just cruel and unusual punishment. It's what you get for trying to make him suffer.

All the pet names he murmured in your ear crawled up your spine. You shove his face away hiding your own in your sleeve. He laughs into your hand enjoying your sudden bout of shyness.

Jason mumbles a half-hearted apology into your hand, pressing a soft kiss into your palm. You lower your head. You're still clearly avoiding his gaze but you let him press you to his side. Jason Todd is an asshole.

You point to a pair of ice skates so well worn and well loved that you almost miss the little penguins stitched on the side. "Love on the ice? That's so cute!"

Jason glances at them with mild interest. "Sounds like hypothermia." He says, shrugging.

Swatting at his chest, you pout at him. He rolls his eyes nudging your shoulder with his. You scowl at him and stick your tongue out. Jason leans down, unable to stop the urge to press a kiss to your brow. You scowl even harder.

"Admit it, doll. The whole exhibition is just Dickie's favorite fanfiction tropes."

"Professor Todd, be a dear and enlighten my troglodyte ass."

He snorts, "Princess, if I was a professor we both know I'd have the highest attendance rate."

"And the highest failure rate." You say cocking a brow.

"Probably."

"You're terribly humble today."

"I just know I look good."

No, you don't, you think. You shake your head. "That explains the leather jacket."

"You love my leather jacket."

"Well, Biscuit certainly loved your previous one."

Jason wrinkled his nose thinking of the yellow disaster. "That dog was a menace."

"She is the sweetest creature on earth."

"She destroyed my jacket and ate my wallet AND phone."

"I never said she was smart... wait, we're getting off topic."

Jason narrows his eyes at you then points to a crown. It was an intricate lattice of silvers and golds with diamonds that glittered like starlight. "Royal AU," he says simply, "go on read the description."

"A prince and a princess from rival nations are bound by a marriage of convenience. Through a series of missteps. They fell for each other.... that one was pretty easy. Do it again."

He points to a blue feather. "Mythology AU."

You arch a brow at him. He waves at it, urging you to read. "A god descended to earth to be with his mortal lover only for him to lose his memories of her." The feather's glow is incandescent. You can feel the power radiating off of it, a sure sign of divinity.

Once, you would have brushed it off as mere story. You've spent more than twice your lifetime now dipped into the world of myths. You glance at Jason. Simple divinity no longer fazes you.

"See?"

"I- Nope."

"You're just being stubborn."

"Would you have been my friend if I wasn't?" Would you have saved me if I wasn't?

You think Jason hears your unspoken question when he frowns. Instead, he turns on his heel to face the other direction. He points to a bouquet of wilted roses tied together by a green ribbon. They still smell of blood and something you couldn't identify. Your eyes drift down curious. Your eyes trace over the words feeling your stomach tumble.

"Gruesome." Jason vocalizes inanely. He hooks his head on the crown of your head, neatly slotting your body under his. You're safe, surrounded by walls of muscle. The crease in your brow softens. You would think that Jason would be less protective after you'd turned but now that you were a vampire, he was somehow even more protective. Roy always joked you only got Biscuit and your other dogs as lap dogs because you already had Jason. He may not have been too off on his guess.

"This should be in a horror exhibit," you say leaning into Jason's chest, "kind of reminds me of you though." You tilt your head up grinning at him.

"If you make a joke about me being jack the ripper again, I swear I'll-"

"-Bury me alive 6 feet under concrete with a recording of Roy singing Auld Lang Syne in a terrible British accent. Got it. What I meant was... you're just as protective as the man in the story." You say, smiling at him.

For good reason, Jason thinks.

Jason buries half of his face in your hair, hiding his answering smile. You smell like sugar and cinnamon. It's a familiar combination of smells that puts him at ease despite the atrocious amount of people in the museum.

You point to another artifact, afraid that you'd accidentally picked at an old wound.

"Star-crossed lovers." He mumbles into your hair.

"Bullshit!"

"Read it and weep, doll."

You read the plaque and the words 'meet' and 'different world' assault your eyes. You scowl at him. "Fuck you."

The grin on Jason's face is genuine. It makes something in your veins sing knowing how much fun he's having.

Your face softens. "You really love this romance stuff, huh?"

Jason narrows his eyes at you.

"You were the one bawling your eyes out when we binged Spaces Between Us. Who the hell cries during erotica?"

"IT'S TRUE LOVE AND YOU KNOW IT IN YOUR SOUL," you protest, pounding your fist against his chest,"besides, you're the one who was crying nonstop when we watched the IDHY duology."

"I was crying because they were accurate book adaptations."

You blink at him confused. "There's a book?"

"Yes, you illiterate heathen."

"You sound like a conquistador."

“....”

"At least they got their happy ending." You say, changing the subject.

"That's true."

"Still better than Titanic."

He furrows his brow at you. "What's wrong with the Titanic?"

"First of all," You pitch your shoulders like you're about to give him a lecture, "That was 3 hours of my life wasted on a shitty movie. It wasn't even that accurate."

"Princess, not everyone can survive the Arctic."

"And second, the most romantic scene in that romantic movie was the old couple staying together as they sank."

Jason laughs, a deep rumbling sound. It scrambles your brain, almost dissolving your annoyance until he opens his mouth again. "You sound like Damian."

"Jason Peter Todd, take that back." You screech, swiping at him.

He jumps back, his laughter still echoing. "Stop sounding like the demon brat first."

You run after him, telegraphing your murderous intent. Jason walks away faster, sticking his tongue out at you. Your growl and claw at the air. You screech obscenities as Jason continues to evade you. He is having way too much fun with this.

You chase Jason around the exhibition for a solid half hour before you come to a skittering halt.

Your eyes land on a vermillion book, leather bound and carefully crafted by skilled hands. You step closer to admire the swirling, arabesque patterns lining the leather. No title is embossed on the front. It's thick. You would wager it was at least 400 pages.

Your eyes drift down even further, finding a familiar scrawl. Below the book were photocopies of some of the pages. Pablo Neruda's 'If You Forget me', Beethoven's 'Immortal beloved', Ibn Hazm's 'My Heart', and a bunch of other poets you didn't know but recognized as ...

"Jason these are your favorites."

"What?" He says, walking over to you cautiously.

You look back down at the pages and your eyes catch on the one in the middle. From the numbering, it was the last.

Love is such a hard thing to define,

I don’t know if I could ever find,

The words to truly express the complexity of such an emotion.

It is an emotion felt in the heart,

Long before it makes sense to the mind,

illusive and uncertain until suddenly it just clicks.

Like so many things in this world,

we tend to know it when we see it in others,

even if we can’t be sure of it ourselves.

I think I’ve always known how much I love you,

When I look at you,

I see everything I’ve ever wanted.

When I look at you,

I see nothing else but your perfect beauty.

Inside and out.

I'm not a poet, (Y/n), but I will tell you anyway I can how much I love you.

-Jason Peter Todd

Jason is a stone next to you.

His mouth is filled with sand as he looks at the far too familiar handwriting. He knew. He knew the moment he saw the red book what it was. Hell, the moment you told Jason it was Roy who told you to go to the museum, he knew what it was. God, why can't he just turn to ash.

Jason can't make himself turn to you. He can't bear to see what ever disgusted expression you make. He just can't.

He feels a tug on his sleeve. He doesn't move. He feels another tug, this time harder. When he doesn't respond the second time, you lace your fingers in his and spin him around.

You squish his cheeks in your hands. "Jason, you actual sap." You say. You look like you're glowing. You beam at him, all toothy and scrunched faced. Jason's lungs stop working again. His mind can't process what you're saying. All Jason knows is that something warm is crowding his chest, pushing everything else out.

"Wha?"

"Jason, you absolute dork!" You repeat, unfazed by his temporary bout of insanity.

Jason is blushing, looking like a strawberry with his freckles. Jason is more adorable than anyone has any right to be. But that's ok. That's perfectly ok cus he's yours.

In a moment of uncontained affection, you pull Jason to you, pressing a kiss against his lips. It's soft and earnest and exciting. It was a kiss Jason spent lifetimes dreaming about. It was you and completely you.

"Jay, they're beautiful." You say in a breathless laugh.

Jason looked down at his feet. "I-" was never planning on giving it to you, he thinks. Because, why would you ever love someone like Jason? Especially, after what he'd done to you.

As if reading his mind, you press your forehead against his. "I love you too, Jay, and you can't argue me out of it. Sorry bud, you're stuck with me."

Jason can't help the smile as it curls on his lips.

He's happy. He's so stupidly happy and he blames you.

"Plus, I already knew."

"Why didn't you say it first?" He asks, his fingers brushing against his tingling lips.

"Cus," you say, pirouetting away from him, "you wouldn't believe me if I did."

"How-"

You put your hand up. "Trust me, Jay. I've tried before." You tilt your head back looking up at the sky light. The curtain of light fell on you like a spotlight highlighting everything ethereal about you. "Remember in Milan? When I told you I cared about you and you told me I didn't."

Jason remembered that. He was angrier back then. He snarled that to you like some wild animal and threatened to throw you out on your ass if you ever so much as spoke a word of that nonsense again. It was the first time he'd seen you look hurt. You face was wide open with shock. Jason felt something in his chest tear at that look. He stormed off, leaving you in that room.

When he came back, you offered him warm tea and a smile. You were quiet, inconsolably quiet.

It didn't…

He didn't…

It didn't occur to him that look in your eyes was heartbreak.

Jason curses under his breath.

You chortle at him, the mirth in your eyes incandescent.

"Yeah. Exactly." You say, clasping your hands behind your back. Jason would like to be buried six feet under with the only words carved into his gravestone 'I am so sorry (Y/n)'.

You snick seeing the look in his eyes. "Or that time in Paris. The one in the little patisserie when I told you in perfect Catalan that you meant more to me than anything else and do you remember what you told me?"

"I told you you were possessed." Jason's shoulders slump. "Please tell me you don't have a third example."

You smile at him pityingly. "I don't-"

"OH THANK FU-"

"I have 50. Well, 51 but the last one didn't count since I was joking that time."

In Jason's mind, his jaw hits the obsidian floor with an audible 'plop'. It would be loud enough that the entire museum would hear it were it real. He blinks at you. "You tried more than 10 times?"

"I was encouraged." You say shrugging.

"Of course, you were," he grumbles and you laugh. Jason's heart skips a beat but he pushes past the feeling in favor of pleading with you. "Please don't list them."

"Oh, I'm not." You hum.

Jason sighs with relief.

"I'm gonna leave that to Roy."

"Son of a- He knows?"

You look over your shoulder. "Yeah. Who do you think I complain to?"

"Who else knows?" He asks, trailing behind you as you walk to .... Jason doesn't know at this point and he doubts you do too.

"Oh just your family."

"I'm surprised they haven't given me shit about it."

"Oh I bullied them into not doing it."

"Impressive." He whistles and you preen.

"Always," you say smugly. You begin to walk a bit faster, craning your neck. "Now, let's go find out if Dickie installed that bakery I asked for."

"That's what you're after?" Jason laughs.

"It's a noble goal." You protest.

"You don't even need to feed."

"I need to feed my inner sweets monster. She's very fussy and is demanding crepes specifically."

Jason smiles softly at you, amused that of all the human traits you could have retained after being turned was a sweet tooth.

"Sorry to tell you doll face, Dickie still hasn't done it."

You look aghast like he'd slapped you in the face with a large baguette.

"What?!"

"He hasn't put in your suggestion from 10 years ago."

"Where am I supposed to get my fix?"

"Are we still talking about sweets or have you moved on to cocaine?"

"Dunno, have you tried snorting sugar?"

"No. Why- Have you?"

"...my lawyer advised against answering this question."

Jason cackles. "How am I the stupid one?"

"I-" Your scowl turns sickeningly sweet. "Yanno, the third time I tried was when-"

"OK. Stop." Jason's face lights up again. "I give."

"Pfff." You smile, looking far too pleased with yourself.

Jason straightens up, something sly passing through his eyes. You stop. The look in his eyes makes you nervous.

"I think I know where you can get something sweet."

You swallow nervously.

Jason leans in. He’s so close to you. You can feel his breath brush against your lips. Nothing else around you seems to exist at the moment.

You lean in to kiss him but you freeze when you register his voice.

“I’m taking you downtown. There’s a new bakery there and I heard the crepes were to die for.” He chuckles, turning to walk towards the exit.

“What the hell?!” You call out falling into step with him.

He grins down at you, arms folded behind his head. “Something wrong, princess?”

Heat rises in your cheeks and elbow him in the side.

“I want to take you on a proper date and I sure as hell am not starting here.” He says, rubbing his side and conspicuously not looking at you. There’s a dust of peach on his face. Your anger fades away. It gives way to a fluttering in your chest.

“Where?”

He looks at you then, brow furrowed.

“Why don’t I take you to the fair, princess? There’s plenty of sweet treats there that’ll tickle your fancy.”

Your mouth waters when you think about all the cotton candy they have.

“I heard there’s a kissing booth too, so if you’re lucky,” Jason continues, winking at you. Predictably, you blanch at him. You knock your knuckles against his chest. Jason chuckles, rubbing his chest. “Sorry princess, I mean if I’m lucky enough to get a kiss from you.”

The temerity.

The gall.

“As long as you get me something sweet.” You huff, exiting the building.

Jason stops on the steps, turning to you with a sly smile. Crossing your arms, you pause bracing for whatever trick is up his sleeve. Jason tilts his head. He says something but the little noises of the city make the words hard to discern. You lean closer to hear him better. Jason steps closer to close the distance, his lips warm against yours. You’re stunned. Your entire body divided on how to react, some parts stiffen while others turn to jelly.

He pulls away, wolfish grin unwavering. "That sweet enough for you sweetheart?"

@batarella, @anothertimdrakestan, @lucy-roo, @multifandomgirl-us, @bungunz, @birdy-bat-writes, @boosyboo9206, @americasmarauders , @l-inkage, @arestorationofbalance , @cloudie-skay, @wunderstell @hyp-oh-critical @glorified-red

#Jason Todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #vampire au #food

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marimopeace · 3 years

Text

there's a limit on how much you can be an isekai intellectual...

a bunch of analyses have been popping up before me all day so i wanted to throw my hat into the ring. all love to ppl who are exercising their creative minds + ppl like geoff here who just talk about these things because of fan interest but i feel like there reaches a point where exploring the "types" of isekai is pointless? i've seen ppl list out the different types of villainess revenge isekai or fantasy mmorpg isekai but eh why fit them all into separate boxes like that?

i think it's easier to think of isekai as a "type" (genre) of itself with only two categories: 1) a focus on isekai (lit. another world) 2) tensei (lit. to be reborn). this allows for a variety of applications and thus tropes that ppl see so many trends of!

with isekai - in another world

you see everything from:

pure fantasy (inuyasha, digimon wait maybe not the best example but in my childhood mind i count digimon as pure fantasy, fushigi yugi)

mmorpg inspired fantasy/adventure (.hack//legend of twilight, sao ugh, log horizon, overlord (LOVE OVERLORD!)

otome game-esque worlds >>> this is where it gets complicated with "villainess routes" since i admit there are multiple villainess tropes but this is why it's nice to not think of this as a "sub-type/genre" bc it frees you from those complications! (the saint's magic power is omnipotent, the white cat's revenge as plotted from the dragon king's lap soso cute!, the savior's book cafe in another world, i'm a villainous daughter so i'm going to keep the last boss wait i can't remember if she's reborn in this one lmaooo see this is why rules make everything hard)

with tensei storylines - being reincarnated/reborn in another world as *insert character/role*

you see...

the same tropes!!

pure fantasy (a returner's magic should be special, reminiscence adonis, the lady and the beast, light and shadow, i can't think of a manga off the top of my head for this ah)

mmorpg inspired fantasy/adventure (so i'm a spider so what i stan kumoko so hard, her majesty's swarm, can't name another off the top of my head ah i hate lists shorter than two things...)

self-insert based games/novels (fiance's observation log of a self-proclaimed villainess, who made me a princess, death is the only ending for the villainess, the villainess wants to marry a commoner, honestly games vs novels are different applications but i'm not in the headspace to try to remember a bunch of both lol)

*insert line break to give random ppl a break from scrolling but tl; dr just enjoy things for what they are no need to micro analyze*

similar variations occur in both genres (if ppl want to be super technical i guess i'm arguing that isekai itself is a massive genre that has the "another world" subgenre and "reincarnation" subgenre tl; dr) so i think it's honestly a huge pain to try to separate all these trends into so many different types of stories. for me personally it's easier to not get overwhelmed by this gigantic umbrella of "isekai" that spans light novels, manhwa, manga, and mobile games by just stripping each story down into its trademark tropes (aka character archetypes, story structures) and slapping "oh this is a person going to a world that's not ours" and "this person gets reborn as blank in another world". none of this "omg this power fantasy is such a this kind of isekai moment" or "there are 14 different types of villainess revenge stories and this series fits into this" bc AH labels! limitations! circle-jerks via ppl trying to compartmentalize everything and sound smart for leaving a comment on story analysis instead of ooh-ahhing over a character's face! dividing things into light novel manga vs manga vs korean manhwa ft. female characters!

the last bit is mainly why i feel frustrated by ppl's insistence to group everything?

the video linked at the beginning of the post (honestly good video essay, i enjoyed it, i just kept thinking in my head the whole time "marimo these are tropes do not take the genre talk literally") has a baby comment thread talking about "korean isekai manhwas" as a genre featuring nothing but reincarnated villainess' and i can't.

like i cannot acknowledge that as a genre of any sort. the energy i felt reading through some of those insights takes me back to 2012 when all yt americans discovered k-pop and deemed all korean music k-pop from then on! (ppl still do this now, yes you are seen and don't talk to me pls i don't like you. k-pop is korean pop music and nothing less and nothing more. take a few seconds and try to parse apart aspects of korean culture instead of slamming everything into a monolithic label that has the letter k and a hyphen.) it feels so odd to see a bunch of young ppl on ig and tiktok acknowledge korean media that happens to be in the form of a webtoon as "oh stories all about young girls becoming villains in stories they made/played" bc it feels so reductive u.u

(positionality disclaimer that i'm praying isn't actually necessary: i am a 3rd-generation korean of japanese descent do not fite me i am exhausted irl of ppl asking for validation/verification bc massive shove off.)

breaking news! korean manhwa...is just as multifaceted as japanese manga...bc how can comics as an art-form not have multiple genres...huh such a shocker?!?! same likely applies to media in other parts of the world like chinese manhwa and french comics--not my place to explain either of those i just know those industries exist bc of wakfu and donghua shows by Tencent.

at the end of the day it's not like analyzing any kind of isekai is wrong--absolutely not!! i think it can be super fun to think about how isekai elements complicate a story (MCs trying to go back home, ppl from the og world, reincarnation plot-twists) or maybe even bash a series for including some kind of other world element when they could have just written a super fun fantasy.

insert marimo's brief ramble that hey you can get sick of truck-kun's hitting disillusioned guys who happen to be super duper smart or girls who happen to be master chefs/craftsmen but transporting a fully-grown being into a fantasy setting is the ultimate cheat code for making mundane modern technology seem cool and overpowered, and being reincarnated as a fully grown person in a world with a pre-made story/game set-up completely bypasses the need for an author to slowly flesh out world-building in a natural progression so isekai is actually a really smart writing tool it's just that there are some series where the author didn't use it well at all and it's cheesy or clearly isekai was misused as a vehicle for character/story development and it was pointless *DEEP BREATH OUT*

in this essay i will argue...lol i am such a culture studies major!! if i were an english major i would be talking all about writing but here i am having a side-tangent about world-building via someone being reborn wow i love this for me (don't get me started on when an author has someone reincarnate as a baby and the story is mostly them having warm fluffy moments with their family--typically father figures--and getting lots of powers i could and would and probably will rant about east asian toxicity)

but anyway am i crazy????? like yes for being passionate about the technical use of a word like genre (i am a scorpio rising let me be fussy pls) but i don't think it's a lot to ask for ppl to not unironically see "villainess revenge isekai" as the definition of korean manhwa.

idk as someone who resonates with why japanese isekai is so popular domestically + why a lot of korean manhwa feat. the same tropes (it's not for great reasons lads it's actually depressing tbh) i'm just starting to feel kind of pained by the generalization and need to separate "cute japanese girl in an otome game"/"japanese boy finds a harem in another world" from "korean girl dies and comes back as a villainess" bc they are just! applications to the same story device!!

recommendations for any who makes it this far down below <3

// also gladly recommend any of the examples i've listed in the above rant as i've read/watched all of them and adore them v much! //

save me princess

super refreshing fantasy manhwa ft. a princess and her ex-boyfriend having to save the world!

the beginning after the end

an AMERICAN web novel turned into a comic (but see it being not korean/japanese doesn't really matter when you just consider isekai as a genre...isn't it nice to not overthink it?) ft. a super-powerful wizard king reincarnated into another world and starting from scratch--gives mushoku tensei vibes but huge twists!

the reason why raeliana ended up at the duke's mansion

love love LOVE this story--read the title and you'll learn how this girl reincarnated as the character raeliana in a book gets married to a duke!

trash of the count's family

such a good novel!! a guy gets reborn as a lazy oaf and he takes the hero of the story under his wing...plot twists come up later on!

this time i will definitely be happy!

v good and refreshing for a shorter series! she's been reborn 3 times and remembers every time the hero's stabbed her in the back, and now she just wants to break up with him!

silver diamond

older manga but v good adventure w intrigue! a boy who loves plants get sucked into a desert world with demonic lizards and a mysterious bodyguard by his side. shonen-ai not BL but wonderful vibes nonetheless + great side characters!

the princess imprints a traitor

adore everything in this from the world (not in that way this society makes me so angry) to the machinations at play and the dynamic between the fl and ml

#isekai #mother's basement #inuyasha #digimon #fushigi yugi #.hack//legend of the twilight #log horizon #overlord #the saint's magic power is omnipotent #the white cat's revenge as plotted from the dragon king's lap #a returner's magic should be special #adonis #the lady and the beast #light and shadow #kumo desu ga nani ka #her majesty's swarm #fiance's observation log of a self-proclaimed villainess #death is the only ending for a villainess #the villainess wants to marry a commoner #save me princess #the beginning after the end #the reason why raeliana ended up at the duke's mansion #trash of the count's family #this time i will definitely be happy!#silver diamond #see i normally put the raw titles for everything but the tiny korean/japanese part of my brain is so tired bc my english brain went off #the princess imprints a traitor #manga #manhwa #donghua

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akiraink-no · 3 years

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Empires SMP-Spirts/Fae AU

Hey! So I was watching Shubble’s stream(right after her first episode and as she was playing, I got some ideas for the Empires SMP! Note: I haven’t watched everyone’s episodes on Empires, but I highly suggest that you check them all out. Pearl and Gem’s videos on Empires are some of my favorites, but I also love Shubble, Scott, fWhip, and Pixlriffs.

Initial World-building: I like to think that the Empires SMP is a story of spirits/fae/royal courts. For example some of the players would be spirits or fae creatures. (Think Scott, Shubble, Jimmy?? And maybe Pixl), and the rest would be normal, human players that are royals. (Again, fWhip, Mythical, Pearl, Katherine, Joey, Gem, etc…) I’ll start with the fae creatures first and if I’m up to it, I’ll post my ideas for the others.

Scott Smajor: Ice/Wind

So in my head, I like to think that Scott is a fae creature from the court of ice and wind. (Mostly because ice powers are cool and because he’s in a mountain). He has explicitly stated that he’s building in an elven sort of style, which can still match with him being from a fae court.

Personality:

I would like to say he’s cold, calculating, and even ruthless or cruel at times (He murdered Gem after she died, guys, come on). He sees the people around him as assets that can help him, but he doesn’t form a real connection with any of them just yet. Everything is very strict and formal around him

I like to think that because wind spirits are pretty mischievous and free spirited, he has a softer side to him as well. He likes to pull pranks, but doesn’t know when too far is too far. His pranks can border on cruel and sometimes insensitive, but it’s because wind/ice spirits are probably the most detached from the other spirits

Appearance:

As for his appearance, I’m taking his skin as part of my inspiration. I like the idea of him in whites, blues, golds, and silvers. He has a crown of diamond shards that mimic ice and is held together with silver and gold that mimic branches. His robes are mostly white(representing snow) and there would be a trim of blue for the skies above his lands. He might have either arm bands, bracelets, or rings that are made of silver or gold(representing the times when the sun or moon hits the snow).

Powers(?)

Because Scott is an ice/wind spirit, I think it would be cool if parts of him would reflect that. Maybe his skin is super pale and cold to the touch. Maybe he doesn’t wear furry coats because he doesn’t get cold.

The air around him gets colder when he’s angry or stressed, and if he gets really pissed, he could make it start to snow around him. When he’s sad, ice starts to freeze the ground under his feet or plants around him. Maybe it gets windy when he’s happy or dies down when something shocks him

I also think it’d be cool if he had like… frost walker(?) on his feet. Like the water freezes should he get too close and he doesn’t even realize it until someone points it out. It makes travel easy for him, but also an annoyance when he is doing a build or getting a bucket of water

Shubble: Nature/Decay

So Shubble’s kingdom/empire is called the Undergrowth. When I think of that, I think of mushrooms, soil, roots, and trees. It’s pretty close to what she’s planning right now. Her style of building gives me very cottage core vibes that’s very overgrown. I like to think that she’s a nature spirit because she has said that nature provides and that just seems like a very spirit thing to say.

So I know I said decay, but when it comes to decay, it has an interesting look to everyone. Sometimes it’s bleached bones and withered grass, sometimes it’s spongy soil and mushrooms. I like to think that Shubble is the kinder side to decay(That’s saved for someone else). Something that must happen for the cycle of life to continue, she isn’t ruthless or cruel, she’s just trying to help the earth along.

Personality:

Shubble would be very kind, sweet, and overall very trusting. That doesn’t mean she’s stupid or naive, it just means she’s willing to be kind to people first and give them chances to show their kindness. (I spent a long time in her chat during her streams and… yeah, wholesome energy).

She doesn’t see the people around her as assets and rather hopes to make friends rather than enemies. I won’t say she forms connections quickly(mostly because I haven’t seen her interact with others just yet). But she is very trusting. (remember fWhips potatoes and Pearl’s shovel). During her stream after her first episode aired, she talked about hoping to be friends with Katherine from House Blossom and is aiming to stay as peaceful as possible during the time of the server.

Appearance:

So I haven’t seen her skin yet(mostly because this is coming out before we see it.) But she’s using a lot of browns, yellows, greens, and reds. I would like to say that her outfit would sort of reflect that. Instead of a crown of precious gems and metals, it’s maybe a crown of twigs, branches, leaves, and maybe some smaller mushrooms. (Antlers would be cool, so… )

I don’t think a dress would work, since she does a lot of work around her base. (Her stream was having her working with trees, leaves, and mining), so I think maybe a pair of overalls (maybe a brown?), a yellow/red undershirt and maybe a dark green jacket. Her outfit would be perfect for her to get on her hands and knees and dig into the earth(Gardener! Shubble).

Powers:

I feel like because Shubble has this overall sweet and kind energy, I think mushrooms would grow from around her feet. Maybe she can sense when things are about to pass on and tries to make them as comfortable as possible. She can communicate with the earth below her(again, nature provides), and can speak with the animals to some degree

I would like to see spore blossoms react to her. Since spores are also the seeds for mushrooms, it’d just make sense in my head. Maybe she can coax plants to bloom or grow slightly faster around her if she’s happy. Maybe when she’s sad, things start to wilt or shrivel up. Her anger makes things die or age rapidly around her. Her touch can either harm or heal. Knitting the body’s wounds or it could tear into them, causing them agony.

Jimmy: Ghosts/Decay

I like to think that maybe Jimmy started out human. Or maybe he’s half human. Like one of his parents was human and the other was a fae. (It would certainly explain his skin)

Personality:

So I haven’t watched a lot of Jimmy, but I wanted to get this off my chest because it’s been in my head for a while now. I think Jimmy, like Shubble, is trusting. Not as much as Shubble, but he does aim for friendship first and then enemy second. So, maybe he’s an opportunist instead.

Another thing that he might be is petty or spiteful(see his and Sausage’s argument over a music disc). Another ruler might negotiate or bargain their way to what they want, but I think that either Jimmy is pretty young(for fae standards) or his mixed bloodline makes it hard for him to act with a clearer head. It’s pretty clear that he wants others to take him seriously, but at the same time, he can act very impulsive and rashly(See all of 3rd life).

Appearance:

It’s pretty clear that Jimmy has that green tinge to his skin. But I think he would have colours such as green(for obvious reasons), browns, and maybe some greys(for clay in the swamp). He wouldn’t have a crown, instead, he’d have a set of gills on each side of his neck. Since I like to think that he swims around in the swamp to talk to the cod in his kingdom.

For more formal events, he might have a brown cloak and pants with a rich green tunic. He doesn’t look the most royal, but maybe that’s okay because he doesn’t want to be seen as super royal to the rest of his kingdom. Maybe he feels like if he appears to be too royal, the people of his kingdom wouldn’t approach him.

Powers:

So Jimmy’s was pretty difficult. Swamps aren’t like ice and wind or nature. But he is a spirit of decay. A less kind version of decay, but not overall cruel. Maybe his decay strikes faster than Shubbles. Where she is understanding and aims to help those along, Jimmy is buried with memories, sunken bodies, and ghostly apparitions.

So maybe he can see the dead, ghosts who haven’t passed on and simply wander his empire. His eyes glow a faint green whenever he talks to them and tries to aid them to move on to the afterlife.When he’s happy, he shines in the dark backdrop of the swamp, drawing more of the dead, eager to pass on.

Maybe his anger results in ghostly wails or being dragged into the soft earth around his home. His sadness draws more of the dead to his area, even if they didn’t die there. His pain and grief is like a blackhole, pulling souls in and forcing them to stick around, stuck in his orbit. Maybe a certain few stayed because he was the first one who spoke to them, who reached out to them, who made an effort.

Pixlriffs:Time/Death

So Pixlriffs has said that he wants to watch over the others deaths with his vigil and he lives in a desert, so I thought they would work with each other. When you think of time, you think of hourglasses, they have sand so that’s the connection I made.

Personality:

So Pix has shown an unhinged side to his overall calm and collected composure.(Example, Episode Ten, I think?) His: I sent five people to their deaths and they granted me wings(paraphrased) line is both chilling and is also perfect for a spirit of time/death.

He, like Scott, is a bit disconnected from the others. Not by accident or nature, but by choice. As a spirit of time and death, he sees the clocks above everyone’s heads, knowing when their last breaths will be taken and when those clocks finally stop.

It’s not that he’s apathetic to his fellow kings and queens, but rather he is scared. He doesn’t want to form connections only to see them disappear like a drop of sand in a desert. He wishes to honour the people who have weaseled their way into his heart. So he keeps the vigil to count their deaths and remind them that they will not be forgotten. Pixl is a watcher, an overseer that is afraid of the day his friends will pass on and leave him alone.

Appearance:

The man calls himself the copper king, so I have to have those shades of copper in his outfits somewhere. Teal, brown(for bronze), and those shades between (for copper)are very good(both in builds and on clothes). I also think that pale yellow(representing the sand) is also a nice touch and green for his lush gardens is also a wonderful tone.

He has a cape that is mostly teal(I’m thinking the shift between the third to final stage) with a bronze belt. The pale yellow would be his shirt and his pants would be a darker brown. Matching his boots.

I think he would have a crown with pale yellow crystals(yellow zircon or topaz) with bronze wires making up the rest of the crown. Maybe there are pieces of turquoise or aquamarine, that would be cool too.

Powers:

The man is basically a watcher. He has wings and can see through time. Like I said before, he can see the clocks ticking above the other players’ heads. Seeing how long they have until their last breath. Pixl is equal parts chaotic and calm. So I think he has a good control over his emotions.

When he’s stressed things start to wilt under his feet(another reason he lives in a desert), in his anger, he can cause death. Maybe he’s just an omen or something that draws in death. (See his end raiding attempts one and two). I like to think that maybe he has the ability to hold flames or make small ones(just for his candles), he isn’t violent or uses them to hurt others. He simply just uses them to light his candles.

He’s more than capable with his other abilities.

This is all I have for now. If I decide to do the others, I’ll add a link to this post. I’d appreciate some information or ideas for the other players since I haven’t had the chance to touch down on all of them. If you have any ideas, feel free to send them to me too!

#empires smp #scott smajor #shubbleyt #solidaritygaming #pixlriffs #minecraft

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dr3amofagame · 3 years

Text

starting off my old writing w/ this c!wilbur + c!dream drabble from a bit back!! mutually assured destruction duo my beloved <3 ,, they’re so much fun to write (and so messed up lmao)

tw: violence, explosions, dark imagery, contemplating about death, suicidal thoughts, toxic relationship, manipulation

Wilbur watches him, eyes glittering in the dark space. Stacks of TNT surround them, Wilbur tossing a stick from hand to hand far too carelessly considering the redstone dust sticking to his palms, and Dream wonders, darkly, what would happen if he ended up setting off the explosives by accident.

He wouldn't die, not permanently, but it's maybe a little too appealing to think about the prospect, he thinks as he shoves another case into place. Wilbur's still doing nothing but watch him, a small, bitter smile on his face. It's an emotion that Dream is all too familiar with, nowadays, the twisting knot of spite and anger and betrayal pulsing and growing with every new conflict that ends with new scars on his skin and blood under his fingernails.

The explosives could go off at any moment, packed far too tightly to be safe, and every time he blinks he can feel his vision whiting out and being turned inside out in heat and pain, imagines all of the shattered pieces of himself tearing out of his burnt and bleeding skin, shards of porcelain and acid blood stabbing into the earth and staining it black. He can see him and Wilbur, thrown apart and tossed like rag dolls and broken into a million awful pieces that can no longer pull people along like puppets, the plot lines and twisted strings and too-heavy titles dissolving in the brightness of flames falling through his splayed fingers, the world turning white, turning red, turning black-

Would anyone miss him?

Wilbur had a whole nation of people to mourn him, doggedly following his every step with starry eyes and ready hands, drawn to his silver tongue and world-weary ambition like moths to a flame. It was hard not to notice how his speeches were his siren's song, how his voice would deepen and mellow and grow warm enough to melt hearts like a piece of chocolate left in the sun. Dream wasn't the same, all harsh words and sharp edges, too-loud too-fast too-intense to stay with for long. Wilbur could say everything he needed with simple, flowing script and heartfelt rallies to action; all Dream could do was hold his emotions in his hands and watch them bleed between his fingers and spill onto the ground, scream until his throat cracked and grew hoarse with the weight of the thoughts that felt too big to fit in his throat.

Wilbur laughs, the sound grating. "What a pair we make," he says, and Dream ignores how they both watch the way sparks fly from the flint and steel he's now holding, both simultaneously terrified of the explosives surrounding them igniting, and yet maybe just as afraid of what will happen if they don't.

Dream manages a rough murmur in agreement, and Wilbur keeps watching him from the other side of the room. He's begun engraving something on the walls, the L'manburug national anthem, if he is to guess, but he doesn’t quite care enough to read them. Instead, he grabs another stack of TNT and begins digging out the wall to slot them into place.

It takes an embarrassingly long time for him to realize that Wilbur's still staring at him, a small, self-satisfied smile playing on his lips. Dream turns around all-too quickly, instincts flaring as he barely suppresses the growl rising in his throat. War makes monsters of us all, one half of him comments self-righteously as the other half throws itself at the inside of his skin like a caged dog. "What," he spits, words like acid, like poison, like a potion-dipped arrow from a perfect weapon, a perfect villain, and Wilbur's smile grows wider.

"It was always going to end like this," the other man's voice is deceivingly smooth, soft like the fur of a sleeping bear. His eyes are dark with bubbling hatred and bitterness held back by a cool mask of indifference and Dream wants the world to fall apart, crumble to pieces and let everything break on the jagged edges. "Tell me, Dream, when did you realize that the part of a villain was one that you could never escape?"

"Fuck off," he rolls his eyes, something caged and furious rising in his throat and Wilbur slinks forward, unfazed.

"Still living in denial, are you? You know, I really thought you would've learned by now." Wilbur clicks the flint and steel once, twice, sparks spraying in the dust-filled space and revealing something bright and burning and broken in the back of his pupils. "Though I guess I was the same way, so I can't really blame you."

Wilbur goes back to scratching his words on the walls, ruining the edge of a diamond sword as he drags it over the stone. A messy, sharp-edged L forms under the bright blue blade, followed by the clatter of a particularly large chunk falling to the ground to create a deep indentation in the wall for the apostrophe.

"I guess you were so desperate to play the hero that you never noticed," Wilbur begins again, tone off-hand, almost friendly. His melody is sweet and patronizing, a lullaby soaked in cave spider venom. "It really is a shame that no one listened to you, Dream. I almost couldn't believe it; of course it would take me months to realize how much of a villain I was, but your own friends stabbing you in the back like that? I can't imagine how it felt." Dream's hands tighten on the dynamite in his hands, and Wilbur laughs. "I guess it all catches up with us, eventually."

"Why did you turn me into a villain?" He can't help the anger that bursts from his lungs with the fury of the not-yet-ignited trinitrotoluene in his hands, and the other man's turns towards him with a satisfied smirk.

"You were right about one thing, Dream," he says, carving a looping "G" into the rock face. He pulls a button out from his inventory, a simple wooden thing that he fastens to the stone.

"It was never meant to be."

#old stuff :]#tw explosion #tw death #tw suicide #tw suicidal thoughts #tw toxic relationship #tw manipulation #queue <3 #my writing :D #my asks !!

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lovecanbesostrange · 3 years

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It started with an ask on konako’s blog, that led to a small scene with Red kneeling before the Evil Queen. (x) That was almost Red Queen fun. But it spun into something very dark, because the Evil Queen did capture Red and torture as punishment followed (this goes into dead-dove territory, you are warned, it’s messed up). Here are 4k words of what happened in the palace dungeon afterwards (spoiler alert, excessive use of silver):

summary: Red made the Evil Queen look foolish and gets utterly destroyed for it (graphic depictions of violence included)

Finally a little triumph. The Evil Queen went down the stairs into the dungeon. Every step of her well-shined heeled boots echoed loudly from the stone steps. Sometimes she wished she had more patience to make good use of the cells down here. But she was bored too easily not getting answers and the prisoners died quickly. Her torturer barely had anything to do. Why did she even pay him anymore? (Did she pay anyone in the palace? They were allowed to live and had nice enough accommodations and food, for sure that was enough.)

But now Regina wanted to take all the time in the world. Her knights had captured that wolf woman! After the bloodbath she had caused weeks ago that made Regina look foolish, she would enjoy their time together now. And it would send Snow White a message in the end.

Two guards were posted outside the cell and two inside. Of course knowing they dealt with a werewolf made handling the prisoner easier. For one the full moon was a couple of nights away. And silver was easy to come by to keep her in line. Regina had also instructed her blacksmith to forge some chains in preparation for when she would be captured. It had been a priority task.

When Regina entered the cell she smiled and took in the sight. Red was chained up in the middle of the room. She was stripped down to her undergarments, her clothes on the floor, except for her cloak that was draped over one of the tables. Her arms were raised above her head, wrists bound by the heavy cuffs each connected to a chain going through a loop in the ceiling and then stretching all the way to a bolt in the wall. Her ankles were cuffed as well, a short heavy chain in between so she couldn’t take any significant steps. Not that she could run away, since her toes barely reached the ground. Red had to carry her weight in her arms, shoulders.

“Well, well, well, so we meet again.” Regina took her time to enter and circled Red, who tried to follow her with her eyes. “You made quite a spectacle the last time.”

“Do you want an apology?” Red’s voice was firm. Too firm for Regina’s taste.

“I don’t think you could muster up an honest one. You’re a deceiver.” Regina stopped in front of her. “Begging for those peasants’ lives and then killing my men.” She grabbed Red’s chin with her thumb and index finger. “You said there was no need for bloodshed and you happily slaid them anyway.”

“I wouldn’t have done that if you hadn’t tried to take me.”

“As if you thought I would let you walk away from there.” Regina looked closely into those green eyes. Was the bravado real or just posturing? “Don’t get me wrong, the way you killed those men without a second thought was impressive. I can admire that. But the humiliation it would have been to return to the village and enact punishment, admitting to being defeated that day - I can’t let that slide.” She slapped Red across the cheek.

Red closed her eyes and didn’t turn her face back up. She was glad the villagers had been spared. Regina didn’t know how long she had stuck around to make sure there was no retaliation. And whatever was about to follow, would have been worth it. Snow had her plans to strike and they were close to luring the Queen into a trap. But every day more innocent people could die and Red could not sit by. She owed it to the victims of the wolf to use her strength for good now.

She heard Regina take a few steps back and looked again. The cloak was in her hands now. “Do you have any other name or should I just call you Red. Not very original, is it? Naming yourself after a bit of fabric.” Her fingers traced the patterns. “I sense magic in this. But I guess asking about it will not bring me answers, right? Just like any of Snow White’s plans won’t leave your lips.”

Statements. The Evil Queen had made up her mind already, questions weren’t part of whatever this encounter was. Red turned her hands around and tried to get a grip on the chain, change her position the slightest bit to take some strain off of her already burning shoulders.

“Do you know there isn’t much to find in books about your kind?” Regina exchanged the cloak for something else from the table. It reflected a bit of the amber light emitted from the fireplace and Red could see it was a simple dagger. “The one thing that is said over and over though is your weakness towards silver. I’m curious. Is it just the metal or wounds inflicted by it?”

Red already clenched her jaw before Regina put the blade against the skin on her upper arm, preparing to get cut. But instead Regina pressed the flat side on her skin first. Definitely silver. Pure. Red felt the effect in a matter of seconds and bit down, grinding her teeth.

Regina stood close again, caught her eyes with her gaze and kept pressing the blade against the tender side of her arm. “Don’t worry, I will write down everything I’m about to do here, so the books can add a chapter about how to break a wolf when in their human form.” And with that she turned the dagger and cut the skin. Red flinched, more from the shock than the actual pain. It was a relief actually to have the silver leave her.

“Are there noteworthy differences between a cut with this,” Regina lifted the dagger, “and a normal blade?” She gestured towards one of the guards and he immediately unsheathed a dagger from his boot. Without hesitation Regina reproduced the cut on the other arm. The blood almost tickled as it ran down. “Oh no, I’m making a mess. Getting blood out of clothes is such a hassle.”

Regina let one of the daggers fall down and with the other cut along the seams of Red’s top half of what she was left wearing. Red closed her eyes again as she felt air hit her exposed body. She knew which weapon Regina held and she could feel the silver being drawn over her skin, over her collarbone, between her breasts, down to her navel. The point barely left a scratch, but the offending metal felt like being brushed with a nettle. Red took in deep, sharp breaths through her nose.

That reaction was exactly what made Regina go slower with her movements. It wasn’t the sharpness that left the light red mark, no, it appeared the longer she held the blade in place. What an interesting sight to watch. Regina brought her free hand up to Red’s chin again, this time squeezing her jaw with her palm, digging her fingers into her cheek. Red looked at her again.

“You know, the longer you resist, the more adamant I will be to make you scream. That is how these things work.” She brought the dagger up to Red’s forehead, this time with the edge to cut into her skin again. It took a few seconds, but then the blood running over her eyebrows made Red blink.

“Can you hold this for me?” With that she wedged the silver dagger between the torn clothes and Red’s hips. Red squirmed trying to get away, but the blade touched her thigh ever so slightly. “I learned a valuable lesson the other day. A blacksmith works with iron. Like those chains holding you. Not used to working with silver. You would have to ask a silversmith about it. I even found one and he is working on special silver cuffs for me. Or rather, for you.”

Regina stood at the table again, her back to Red. When she turned around she held up a necklace. “So for now, I have to settle for delicate jewelry instead of the collar you deserve.” Under any other circumstance Red would have admired the piece. Obviously the star-shaped ornament was meant to hold a gemstone in place, a diamond or a sapphire, but this was stripped down to the silver components for one purpose only. “So you will get used to a leash later,” was all Regina added as she put it around Red’s neck.

Red held on. Her skin was crawling all over, the itch on her thigh burning already, but she tried to stay as still as possible. She couldn’t do anything against the tears forming in her eyes, betraying her brave face though.

Regina stood before her, brows furrowed. “Your healing isn’t as fast. I will need to wait hours to compare those cuts on your arms. There is something I am forgetting.” She rubbed her temples, feigning to think. “Oh, of course, I need a point of reference!” A clap of her hands alerted the guard. “You, get the girl from next door.” Red’s eyes went wide.

“No. Wait. You don’t need to drag anybody else into this.”

Regina stepped closer and slapped her across the cheek again, harder this time. “I don’t remember asking for your opinion and you will stop being so informal around me!”

“Yes, Your Majesty”, Red quickly gathered herself. “But please, there is no need-” But she already saw a frightened young girl being pushed into the cell. About her height and weight, seemingly healthy. For now. The girl fell to the floor and cowered there.

“I caught her stealing, so normally she would already be dead. But she can be of use for me.” Regina put a hand into her hair and yanked her head up, to make her look at Red. “Or do you want her dead right now?”

The terror Red felt was mirrored on the girl’s face. Was there a chance of survival for her? She was ready to beg for her life; to lie on that table where Regina obviously had more silver tools; to take any punishment herself. “No,” Red whispered. Another yank at the girl’s hair. “No, Your Majesty.”

“A fast learner.” She pushed the girl into a chair with cuffs on the armrests. Seating her in front of Red. The girl trembled and looked to the floor. Red tried to pull at her chains, but it only sent a jolt of pain through her shoulders.

Regina paced the room. After a while she came up behind Red. “Your shoulders must really hurt by now. Let me help you with that.” Her fingers played with the necklace and Red hissed. Shifting it around made the pain more noticeable. “The plate.” She said towards the guards. Behind Red a wooden plate leaned against the wall. A thin metal sheet on one side, coated in silver. She knew that before the guards shoved it under her feet. The wood added a few inches so in theory this took some of the weight off her shoulders, but the soles of her feet would soon itch, turn red, swell, hurt and most likely blister. She tried to balance on the outside of her feet only, to not hurt everywhere all at once.

“Do you know what the second thing is that some texts suggest to use against a werewolf?” Silence. “Oh, that was a genuine question directed at you. Do you know?”

“Fire.” Red answered between breaths. Her mouth was open now, it was dry. She didn’t dare to fully fill her lungs, because that made the necklace move. The attack on multiple parts of her body with the silver was starting to overwhelm her.

“That is correct. You know your weaknesses it seems.” Regina conjured a fireball in her hand. “Fire is pure. It doesn’t discriminate. It can be very elegant.” She stepped closer to Red, hand outstretched so she could feel the heat of the flame. “How fast can you heal a burn wound?”

“I don’t k-” Red couldn’t finish that sentence, because Regina held her hand to her side now. A scream was all that escaped her lips. The fireball wasn’t cast, but the flame burned her flesh. Red clenched her fists and tried to step away, the chains around her ankles making a screeching sound dragging over the silver plate. There was no escape, because Regina just followed with her hand. She closed her hand and the fireball vanished. Red went slack, her breathing sped up. The only good thing was that in this commotion, the dagger had gotten loose and fallen to the floor.

Red sorted out her senses, trying to gather her bearings, when she heard the girl scream. Louder, more fearful, indicating the horrible pain she never felt before. Regina had torn her clothes and burned her at the exact same place on her body. For reference. Red couldn’t put the horror of it into words. Would it indeed be better for the girl if she was dead already? She didn’t even know her name.

And Red didn’t learn her name over the next few days, because whatever happened, she would not talk to her. Regina had strictly forbidden it and the rotating guards would hit her at a single word. It was almost comical. Red’s body went numb. Cuts, rashes, bruises, welts, burns, scratches. It came and went. The pain was a constant throbbing, she got repositioned a few times, but it felt like she would never use her arms on her own accord again. But whatever happened to her, the girl looked worse. Red did heal faster from any wound not dealt with silver. But it did take a lot from her regardless. She lost track of time. What was sleep? Any kind of shame about being naked had vanished. Instead of clothes her body was covered in forming scars, marks and blemishes.

Red tried to count the rotations of the guards, to get any kind of feeling for the passing days. It was only days, right? It felt like forever. Silver on her skin somewhere at all times, lashes from a whip, getting burned with a torch, red hot iron, and so many cuts to make her bleed. The worst still a long deep wound on her right cheek, starting at her ear right to the corner of her mouth. When they allowed her some water, it even hurt to swallow.

Later Red found out it had been five days in total. It seemed like a small window of time. But the Evil Queen lived up to her name. Especially on day four, when she left permanent damage. While Red was mostly kept standing up, the girl was strapped to the chair. Not that she had any energy left to walk out of here, even if they’d opened the door for her. Regina stood behind her and pulled her head back.

“Just look at me, I’m sure this won’t hurt you.”

Red looked on as Regina dripped liquid into one of her eyes. The girl flinched, but that was a reflex. None of her sounds of discomfort or pain left her throat. That made Red more nervous than she would admit. And she was right to be.

“Just as I thought. Look at that, barely irritated.” She pushed the girl’s head forward, her eye teared up, maybe a bit reddened.

Regina walked around her and caught Red’s gaze. “Such beautiful green eyes. Quiet unusual. Of course not as remarkable as the wolfish gold, is it?” The way she kept staring was unnerving and Red’s breathing already picked up. Fear. In a short amount of time she had learned what fear truly was.

“Hold her steady.” A guard came and grabbed Red’s head from behind. Panic sunk in and she started to squirm, tried to turn her face away, to wiggle out of his grip. She wasn’t sure what was about to happen, but she knew she wanted out. Right now. No more pain, she couldn’t take anymore. But she had to.

Regina got a few drops out of the vile, into Red’s right eye. “Don’t worry, it’s mostly water. Just a tiny bit of silver dust mixed into it.”

Red pushed her body back as hard as she could, but her mangled feet had no grip, it was more like leaning into the guy. No force to get him off. And then the pain started. It felt like a needle prick. And all of a sudden the colors exploded in Red’s sight. Everything was sharper, the light from the fireplace brighter. She knew her eyes turned golden like before she would transform. It had happened a few times, when highly agitated. Now it was a physical response.

Regina laughed. “I did not expect that.” She met Red’s terror with fascination. More needle pricks in her eye, the urge to rub it away. Red pulled at her chains, she wanted to press the palm of her hand against her eye and get the irritating feeling out. But there was no chance. All Regina saw was the golden color and Red gasping for air, holding back a scream. The hitched breathing was a good enough tell that this hurt.

Worse than the pain that kept sinking in was the way Red started to see white dots, blind specks in her vision. Three, four, five, more and more. She blinked, her tearducts fighting off the intrusion, but the silver too strong an opponent. Red clenched her jaw and groaned. She let out a growl from deep within, filled with frustration and pain. It was more of a bellow than a scream. Regina smiled at that.

While Red’s left eye got back to its human green, the right eye stayed golden, a misty layer clouding the bright hue. It drew Regina’s full attention, while it would be weeks for Red to discover the permanent change. Blinded, only noting a change between light and darkness. Her eyeball feeling like it was rubbed with sandpaper made the rest of the day seem like nothing. Time moved on

And then unthinkable happened. The chains were loosened completely, the cuffs came off. Red tried to curl up on the floor, but she could barely move her joints. Everything hurt too much. But Regina laughed. “Remember that I said I will make you beg for more than mercy? How about you ask me to end her suffering?”

Red looked up. Trying to adjust to the impaired vision. As bad as she felt, the girl looked worse. “Please…”, the girl said and the guard standing behind her, hit her against the head immediately.

It took everything Red had to turn herself upright, to bend her knees and sit on them. To kneel before Regina again. No side eye, no hint of a smirk, no failsafe. The burn marks hurt worst next to the chafed skin around her neck from the necklace that was also gone now. “Your…” Red was shaking, she had to cough trying to speak. “Please, Your Majesty. End her suffering. I beg you. Please. It’s enough… enough…” And with that she fell down again.

“Pathetic.” Regina’s verdict was cold as ice. “And to think I had a gift for you just now. Guards.” They stood next to Red and pulled her to her knees again, held her up. Regina leaned towards her. “My silversmith has arrived.” She produced a silver object and only when the lock clicked around her neck did Red realize this was the collar she had talked about. She felt the burn on her throat and winced. It was a sound she was used to producing by now.

“So?”

“Please… Your Majesty…” Red was panting, she could not finish the plea.

Regina rolled her eyes. “If this is the best you can do, so be it. Ending the suffering now.” And with that her hand shot straight into Red’s chest and pulled out her heart. “Kill her. Rip her throat out like you always do.”

Red wanted to scream. She wanted to jump the Evil Queen. To tear up the men holding her. But what she wanted was irrelevant all of a sudden. The will to do it was overwritten. She looked at the girl, defeated, not even surprised. While Red’s mind fully woke up for the first time in days, all her muscles reacted to something else. The pain all over her body was terrible, but every second she didn’t comply was even more agony.

Red crawled more than she walked to get to the chair. She hovered over her nameless victim, tried to hold back, but those terror-stricken eyes met hers. “Make it quick, please.” Oh, if only she could turn into a wolf, those sharp teeth would take less than a second. Regina had specified how this girl was supposed to die and Red could not opt to cut her throat with a knife, she sunk her still very human teeth into it. The larynx, so easy to wrap fangs around, was hard, the skin and flesh thick. The scream the girl let out was only short, because the pressure suffocated her. It was impossible to make this quick-

Finally Red tasted blood. Tears ran down her face, but she could not stop herself from this horrible act. This slow, agonizing, inhumane death of a nameless chamber maid, who probably hadn’t even stolen a thing. Someone at the wrong place, at the wrong time, who had suffered for days for cruel experiments with no merit. One more victim added to Red’s tally. Not for good. Not in battle. Not in defense. Needless cruelty.

When the girl’s heart stopped, Red finally could let go. She sank on all fours, spat out what she could of the blood and wailed. Her own heart wasn’t even in her chest, but it had never felt heavier.

“Get the smith down here now, he knows what to do.” Regina sent one guard away. Red looked up, warm blood dripping from her chin, she could feel it. Disgusting. If she had any strength left, this would be the time to strike. But all Regina needed to do was a little squeeze. Her heart hurt. No, Red was helpless. Any thought of fighting back an illusion.

“I think it’s best that you lie down on the table for this next part.”

Red wanted to put her head under a guillotine right now. To kill like that was worse than any of the torture methods the Evil Queen had come up with. Regina had won. But Red couldn’t do anything but comply and lied down, waiting for her fate.

It came in the form of a small white haired man, holding a sort of chalice with a long tongue. His hands were shaking and Red couldn’t tell if it was because of what he was doing or just being in Regina’s presence. She couldn’t make sense of what was happening. A guard came and put her wrists into the handcuffs again, strapping her to the table. A chain going over her thighs and under the table fixated her.

Regina squatted down next to her, stroking her hair. “Feel free to scream for me now.”

“The mold.” Wood was pressed against her back. “Careful with your fingers there, wouldn’t want to burn you.”

And then everything was fire. The scream from Red’s throat surprised Regina enough that she stood up. Loud, agonizing, on the brink of collapse. What looked like a chalice was a melting pot, containing a few grams of molten silver. It was poured on Red’s skin and burned her instantly, severely. Water followed mere seconds later to turn the liquid back to solid, but the damage was done. A silver ring fused into her flesh. The pain and the sensory overload from heat to cold send her into shock. She was still screaming with the taste of warm blood in her mouth when the faint claimed her.

#OUaT #Ruby Lucas #konako #DRK AU #(this stands for Dark Red Kansas because feel free to ask me about the aftermath #we have this 'verse figured out and there are already so many tidbits from the aftermath #funnily enough this isn't even that AU because it is extremely canon compliant except for those five days Regina had fun with torture #and oh is there regret later that Red doesn't want to hear about - she leaves Storybrooke earlier but most of what happens is untouched #ah but meeting Mulan and Merida and Dorothy... and just the way that being cursed-waitress-Ruby saved Red mentally in so many ways #THERE ARE LAYERS!!! AND EMOTIONS!!!!)#guess what there's art to go with this!!!!!!#$!

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ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa · 4 years

Text

Bogotá Kiss

Prologue: There Was a Boy

Summary/Author’s Note: Javier Peña had finally gotten his life together. He was a newlywed, back in the states with his bride, and starting his new life free of Escobar and the world of the cartels. That is until he found his wife in bed with another man. On a path of self destruction, he goes back to Bogota, reclaims his job with the DEA, his partner Steve Murphy, and throws himself into his work, cheap whiskey, and the company of his...informants.

You are a singer in the hottest burlesque club in Columbia. Pulling yourself out of poverty and into a world where men throw money at your feet, buy you diamonds, and pay untold amounts for your services. You don’t mind that the club’s biggest source of income is smuggling diamonds from the necks, wrists, and ears of its prostitutes and into the pockets of their buyers, until a handsome DEA agent gets too close and figures out the scheme.

**IMPORTANT: For those familiar with Moulin Rouge--The reader will NOT die at the end. Fuck that. Let Javi be happy god dammit.

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader (Moulin Rouge/French Kiss AU) Word Count: 1.6k (its just a prologue, the next chapter will be better) Warnings (for entire fic): NC-17/18+ - Language, sex, prostitution, mentions/implied R*pe (nothing will ever be described in detail or used as a plot device), typical canon violence for NARCOS, shooting, attempted murder, drug use, blackmail, hurt/comfort, lies and betrayal, happy ending

[MASTERLIST]

"It's not what it looks like."

People didn't actually say that line, did they? And worse yet, no one actually would possibly believe it. Right? The words fell from her lips and suddenly Javier Peña felt like he was watching a movie about someone else's life. A cliché of a film in which the idiot of a husband walked in on his wife bouncing on the dick of another man. He was that idiot, and as she scrambled off the lap of the stranger and called his name, he slammed the door behind him, not bothering to wait for an explanation. Queue the laugh track or cut to the scene of him walking in the rain to somber music.

Only this wasn't a movie. There would be no comedic relief, just a lot of heartache, wasted time and money. He had always had a bad habit of falling for the wrong girl. He would see himself mirrored in the eyes of the broken, the depressed, the ones who, much like him, just seemed unable to catch a break in life. But instead of getting a kindred spirit to share his world with, he usually just got a lot of baggage and a quick lay.

He packed a bag, not giving a shit about any of his worldly possessions, and found himself at the Dallas airport, sitting at the bar and waiting for his gate number to be called.

He raised two fingers, letting the bartender know he wanted a fucking double, as he held his cellphone to his ear and listened to it ring. The boxy phone didn't fit comfortably against his shoulder and he dropped it just as the other end picked up and Steve's voice came through.

"Murphy."

"Fuck. Shit." Javier fumbled the phone and held it back against his face.

"Javi?"

"Yeah, it's me." Javier sighed as he picked up his whiskey and tossed it back with a mild wince. "I'm on my way back."

"I heard." Steve paused. "Carolyn called. I told her I didn't know where you were."

"Thanks, 'appreciate it."

"I talked to Noonan. She said your job's still open. You can have it and the keys to your apartment."

They both paused for an extended period of time. Javier ordered another shot of whiskey and Steve breathed quietly on the other end of the phone. Neither one of them had to say out loud what they both already knew. Javier had fallen for the wrong girl, again. His heart was broken and he wanted to drown out the ache he was feeling in cheap booze, a carton of Marlboro, and expensive pussy.

"I'll pick you up from the airport. Safe trip, Jav."

"Thanks, Murph."

Javier pressed the button on the phone and rubbed his forehead with a heavy sigh. It was all smooth sailing from here. He was on his way back to normalcy, back to doing what he did best, hunting Narcos and not having any emotional ties to anything that mattered.

The car ride from the airport had been quiet for the most part but Javier could tell that Steve was just dying to ask. So, when they parked in front of the apartment and neither one of them moved, he dug his smokes out of his jacket pocket and rolled down the window. He flicked his silver lighter to life and inhaled deeply as Steve shut off the engine.

"Go ahead. Ask."

Steve sighed and looked at his friend. "What happened, man?"

"I let it go too far, like an idiot. And she couldn't even wait until the honeymoon was over before she tripped and landed on some other man's dick." He inhaled deeply and ran his thumb along his mustache.

"Shit. I'm sorry--"

"Don't," Javier cut him off and shook his head. "Okay? Don't."

"You file for divorce?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "Lawyer is drawing everything up now so we can sign it."

"I know you don't want to hear it, but I'm sorry, Javi. You seemed happy." Steve looked at him and Javier flicked his cigarette out of the window.

"Yeah, I know." He took another long drag of his cigarette before tossing the butt out onto the sidewalk. “Tell Connie I said ‘hi’, okay?”

With a mumbled thanks for the ride and a couple of quick 'see you tomorrows', he opened the car door and grabbed his suitcase out of the back seat and walked up the stairs and into the apartment building. He went through the motions of coming back to this place that he knew quite well, as he went downstairs and stuck his keys in the door without needing to turn on a light.

He tossed his keys on the side table and kicked the door shut gently as he dropped his shoulder bag and looked around. The only furniture that the place had was the old embassy supplied leather couch, scuffed up coffee table, and bar stools against the kitchen counter. Fuck. That settled what he would be doing tomorrow, getting all his furniture out of storage and having the embassy replace what he didn’t have.

Before tossing his leather jacket on the back of the couch, he got out another cigarette and let it bob between his lips as he mumbled to himself. He inhaled deeply and tossed his lighter next to his keys before making his way to the kitchen. When he opened the fridge, he didn’t know if he wanted to run upstairs and kiss her, or if he wanted to clutch his chest and cry.

The entire appliance was completely bare and wiped out, the light making the white shelves look entirely too bright, but sitting in the middle of the top shelf was a covered casserole of some kind and a bottle of whiskey. A note was taped to the tin foil that read:

“Bake at 350 for 30 minutes. Please eat something while you drink this. -- love, Connie.”

At least Steve knew how to pick a woman, because that’s exactly what Connie was, one hell of a woman. Javier grabbed the bottle of liquor and mentally promised Connie that he would eat later. He wasn’t hungry. He really hadn’t been hungry for the last few days, and as he looked at the whiskey and cracked the seal on the lid, he didn’t mourn that the kitchen didn’t have any glasses. He was well beyond the need for a glass.

He took the bottle to the couch, kicked off his boots and plopped down heavily. The whiskey was a familiar burn down his throat and he felt it all the way to his belly. Warm, inviting, and just what he needed. Another drink was followed by a long drag of his cigarette before he kick backed and muttered, “Home, sweet, home,” to a cold, empty house.

The banging on the door permeated his skull in a way that he didn’t think was possible. But then again it had been a long time since he had been this hungover. He rolled over on the leather couch and shoved his face into the cushions and prayed that whoever wanted him would just go away. There was no one on this green earth that he wanted to speak to.

He must have fallen back asleep briefly because the next thing he knew, his partner had let himself into his apartment with his spare key and was nudging his leg that was hanging off the side of the couch.

“Javi,” Steve said as he plucked the empty liquor bottle from under his friend’s arm. “Javi!”

“Is too early,” Javier mumbled into the leather of the sofa.

“It’s 4 in the afternoon.” Steve said, setting the bottle on the coffee table. “I told Noonan you were taking the weekend to unpack--” Steve looked around the apartment and then back to the horizontal man. “Looks like you’re done.”

“Fuck you.”

Steve shook his head and put his hands on his hips. “Come on. You need a shower. I’d offer to buy you a drink but you smell like you’ve got that taken care of. So, how about a lap dance? There’s this new place on the other side of town--got your name written all over it.”

“Go away.”

Steve, rubbed his hand down his face and glared at the shell of the man that he had gotten to know over the last couple of years. The day Javier Peña turned down a lap dance, it would have been a cold day in hell and yet the evidence was right there in front of him. Someone needed to tell the devil to go check his thermostat.

“Mmkay.” Steve said sharply and took the empty bottle over to the sink and filled it about half way with tap water. When he dumped it on top of Javier’s head, the way the dark-haired man sputtered and sat straight up brought him more joy than it probably should have. “Good morning!”

“F-fucking hillbilly,” Javier cursed as he pulled the hem of his shirt up to wipe his face.

“Get your ass in the shower and I won’t tell Con that you didn’t eat her food she left you.” When his friend paused long enough to lower his shirt and glare at him, Steve continued. “I’m not fuckin’ around, Javi.”

The two men stood at odds of one another, but the blond refused to relent. Javier shoved his now soaking wet hair back from where it was plastered to his face and nodded. He stood with a groan and gave Steve his middle finger as he trudged to the bathroom at the end of the hall.

“Missed you, too, bud!” Steve cupped his hands around his mouth in a mock yell after the other man’s retreating form. It was going to be a long road to getting his partner back to his usual self, but the natural place to start was with some no-strings-attached pussy.

PERM TAG LIST:

@rae-gar-targaryen @zeldasayer @blondeeee-e @winters-buck @gooddaykate @jigglemiwa @seawhisperer @halefirewarrior @ripleyafterdark @phoenixhalliwell @thebakerstboyskeeper @honestlystop @lackofhonor @readsalot73 @cryptkeepersoul @skdubbs @cahooter @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @googiebeankat @dinohaze @saltywintersoldat @huliabitch @silver-lined-solitude @tainted-gay-ghost @roxypeanut @@hayley-the-comet @domino-oh-damn @manda-but-not-lorian @maybege @corvueros @thea-cartier @pettyprocrastination @qveenbvtch @hopplessdreamer @pocket-of-anxiety @marie-is-in-the-dark @agentpike @pascalplease @cosmicbug379 @your-pixels-are-showing @gamingaquarius @blushingwueen @crimsonandwhiteprincess @bluemoon-glen @river-soul @robbinholland @nerdypinupcrystal @fleetwoodmactshirt @jaime1110 @fioccodineveautunnale @fantasticcopeaglepasta @kid-from-new-zealand @theofficialwatchtower @roguereds @c4llm3jj @apples-of-february

#javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier pena #javier peña x you #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #narcos #narcos fic #narcos fanfic #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro character fic #moulin rogue #french kiss #javier peña au

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antipodeanpineapplelump · 3 years

Note

Dear Starshot, I recently saw your latest artwork for #Shisui Uchiha and the Lost Treasure of Asura and I am DYING to learn more about this AU. If you're comfortable sharing, is there anything you can disclose about it?? Is this related to the ItaShi Indiana Jones AU you mentioned before?!!?!?!?!!

Hi Birk, thank you so much for dropping by with this ask! Are you really voluntarily asking me to talk about my current obsession and fanfic baby though? Because I warn you, you may live to regret that!!!

"Shisui Uchiha and the Lost Treasure of Asura" is now the official title of my ItaShi Indiana Jones AU. I realise it’s been over a year since I first mentioned it, and it’s still a WIP! Pretty sure that says absolutely nothing good about the speed of my writing, but a lot about how busy my life outside of fandom is. Anyhow, it’s definitely one of those AUs that’s got away on me. I was planning one story initially, but now it’s kind of turned into three (plus a cracky oneshot), and this is just the first.

I’ve planned nine chapters total so far, but the bane of my life is currently number four. It’s sitting at 16,000 words and counting. Succinct writing? I’ve certainly never heard of it… So anyway, I kind of hit a wall there and decided to take a little break to come back with fresh eyes. That’s how I ended up working on the art instead. But I’d say I’m probably about halfway through the first draft (47,000-ish words).

I recently shared the opening scene and my draft cover artwork here. Ummm… what else can I tell you? Madara is the main bad guy, and he’s definitely a few sandwiches short of a picnic. Shisui is an agent of disaster and chaos. Itachi is really… not. So their initial interactions go about as well as you could expect.

All the main characters have extensive back stories. I’m pretty sure you’re already familiar with my Machiavellian worldbuilding tendencies from reading Red Dawn, so it goes without saying I have just as many notes and plans, and as much fleshed out worldbuilding for this story too. And it will take a long time for all of that to be revealed! But the overarching theme is probably found family, which is different to anything I’ve done before.

At this risk of revealing too much, or boring you to tears, I’ll finish with another sneak peek, this time from Itachi’s POV:

When Itachi wakes, there’s nothing to suggest his day is going to be anything but routine.

He gets up at dawn as per usual, eating breakfast at the dining table alone, legs tucked beneath him on a comfortable zabuton. The solitude at this hour of day is something he prefers. It’s the only time the family home is quiet anymore—lacking the cold disapproval of his father’s increasingly judgemental lectures, the anger of his younger brother’s rebellion, or the resigned acquiescence of his mother.

By now, Fugaku should have left for work, and it’s still too early for Sasuke to be awake, given how late he’s been staying out at night. Either to irritate their father, or just avoid him entirely, he’s taken to frequenting the clubs and bars in Osaka. Mostly, he comes home. Some nights, he doesn’t.

More often than not, even when he is home his door is closed, the thumping bass line of some song or another seeping out from beneath it. Likely because he knows this angers their father even more than the leather jackets and spiked punk-rock hair style he now sports.

Part of Itachi has been glad to discover his brother possesses more of a spine than he ever has. But at the same time, Sasuke’s rejection of every last one of their father’s rules has only brought more unwanted scrutiny to Itachi’s far more minor transgressions. It’s as though, having decided his younger child is a lost cause, Fugaku now wants to be absolutely certain his eldest son and heir to the Uchiha family fortune is beyond reproach. To smother him with expectations until he emerges, a diamond from beneath the pressure.

But unbeknownst to Fugaku, Itachi has one flaw he can’t change. And it means that, no matter what, he’ll always be a failure in his father’s eyes.

Sighing, he swallows a mouthful of rice and fish, washing it down with the sweetened barley tea he favours. Pulling this month’s edition of Modern Archaeology across the table, he inspects its glossy cover and promptly chokes on his drink.

The face that smiles up from the page stokes a knot of hot irritation in his gut. Furiously, he skips to the article, skim-reading the text, despite the fact he knows it will only annoy him further.

"An up-and-coming star in the field of archaeology, particularly specialising in South-American cultures, Shisui Uchiha is an increasingly well-known fixture of the San Diego research scene. Curiously for someone so entrenched in the study of history, he is famously reticent when it comes to his own. ‘I did spend my early years in Japan,’ he confirms when pressed. ‘But I haven’t been back in a long time. The United States is my home now.’ Asked about his connection to the famous Uchiha family, he merely winks enigmatically. ‘Never heard of them,’ he says, before asking if we’d like a one-on-one tour of the dig site.

Equally at home in dusty ruins as surfing the palm-lined SoCal beaches, or scaling the cliffs of his native Joshua Tree National Park, he nonetheless shines in group settings too. At the party we attend that evening, to celebrate the opening of a new Aztec exhibit at the Museo Nacional de Antropología in Mexico City, he easily charms the crowd, finishing the night with at least half a dozen new admirers. It’s not hard to see why they like him. A conversation with Shisui is exercise in passion and obscure historical knowledge. Even so, much like the dig sites he frequents, it’s hard to say just how much of what he presents to the world runs more than surface-deep.

His motto in life? ‘Fall seven times, stand up eight,’ Shisui says with a charismatic smile. Where did he learn it? Chuckling, he brushes us off. ‘The school of hard knocks.’

Love him or hate him, one thing is certain—we haven’t seen the last of Shisui Uchiha’s brand of archaeology.”

Hate him, Itachi thinks, sipping his tea viciously enough to scald his tongue and immediately regretting it. Definitely hate. Hate how he’s reckless, impulsive, irresponsible, and doesn’t seem to take a single thing seriously. Hate that it looks like he’s never had to work hard for anything a day in his life—people only too happy to hand him whatever he wants on a silver platter, charmed by a pretty smile. Hate the fact that, despite their shared family name, he’s free to do whatever he likes. Hate the way people flock to him, falling into his orbit—and by all accounts, bed—like it’s somehow inevitable. And hate, most of all, that there’s a small part of Itachi which understands why.

Because hate or love him—and it’s definitely hate—there’s no denying that Shisui Uchiha is, objectively, a very attractive man.

Coming back to his senses and realising he’s been leaning over the magazine, frowning so hard his forehead hurts, Itachi straightens, closing his eyes and massaging the knot of tension out from between his eyebrows.

“Itachi—”

The tension sinks in even deeper. He opens his eyes. “Father.”

Fugaku takes in magazine, then his son, and Itachi really hopes his cheeks aren’t as flushed as they feel. It’s stupid, but merely knowing he feels the way he does about the man on the page makes him fear being caught. As though his father might somehow divine his deepest darkest secret, just by looking. Truthfully, Itachi sometimes wonders if he might not already know, or at least suspect. But if he does, it’s clearly a truth he’s chosen not to acknowledge.

“I take it you’re prepared for our meeting this evening?” Fugaku asks, grim as ever.

Attempting a composed sip of his tea, Itachi nods. “Yes. Of course.”

Mouth a hard, unyielding line, Fugaku makes some indiscernible noise of disapproval, sweeping an appraising glance over Itachi. “Well, I suppose it’s too much to hope that anything can be done about your hair between then and now. But they’re a modern family. New money. Perhaps it won’t matter so much.”

Fingers tightening into the flesh of his thigh, Itachi has to remind himself to breathe. “I will do my best to make a good impression,” he says, inclining his head towards his father, penitence for his innumerable shortcomings—not least of all the choice to grow his hair out. It’s a small act of rebellion compared to Sasuke’s effort, but one his father seems determined to curtail as promptly as possible.

Poker face easing ever so slightly, Fugaku’s brows trend downwards, though their slant is still severe. “I know. You are my son, after all. And it is high time you were married with a family of your own. Perhaps then you will see the value in giving up these frivolous academic pursuits, and taking your rightful place at the head of the family business.”

He might as well build a box and stuff Itachi into it. Mold him to fit his own vision of the future. But Itachi has long since learnt that what he wishes he could have from life, and what he can have, are two very different things. So, just like his infrequent clandestine trips to the less desirable areas of Osaka’s nightlife, this too, he realises he will have to sacrifice. Duty before self.

“Yes Father, I’m certain you’re right,” he says, bowing once more as Fugaku leaves for work, closing the front door behind him with a click that reeks of finality.

As his footsteps crunch away on the gravel path outside, Itachi can’t help clenching his fists, until long after his knuckles turn white.

Theoretically, it’s a good match. From a family of good standing, his potential bride is quiet and well spoken—the perfect future housewife and mother. Their marriage would kill two birds with one stone, giving her father the son he never had, and Itachi—and therefore by extension Fugaku—control of their biggest competitor’s business.

All it requires is for Itachi spend the rest of his life pretending to be something he’s not.

The weight of it burns tight in his throat, threatening to break free on a rising tide of bile. He longs to cast off his gilded shackles, take a leaf from Sasuke’s book and do something completely crazy.

With a sigh, he rises from the table, collecting his dishes and depositing them circumspectly into the sink. Another day of work awaits.

#Shisui Uchiha and the Lost Treasure of Asura #birkastan2018 #asks #my writing #WIP #sorry for talking so much #I'm sure I've mentioned it before #but I'm just an enormous nerd #who loves talking about my nerdy interests #thank you for this ask!

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sultanah · 3 years

Text

@authorsnet event 01: first meetings — Najm Abbas and Sana Ahmed

Prequel to OUR VENGEFUL DESIRES

When one takes the pledge of the Dhimr Academy, one should not intend to break it.

Najm supposed intention was too big a word here. He had not planned to break the pledge, nor had he known that he would. But time had the tendency to alter plans.

Seven exits. Twenty-four guards on duty. Thirty-six classes in session. One Qubba—one, one, one.

He gasped, hand flying to his head as a blinding pain erupted at his right temple. Najm reached for something to hold onto, trying to steady his steps as fire spread through his mind, his own skin hot to the touch.

Focus. Let the details come to you.

Seven exits. Because this was the largest academy in Arijwan, the most prestigious. One only highly qualified Sahera—or in his case, highly rare—were privy to attend. Twenty-four guards. He had counted the few lining the roof, as well. For insurance. Thirty-six classes. Because he had memorized the Academy’s schedule his first night here. One Qubba, because there was only one word he remembered his mother shouting on the night she died.

Najm dropped to the floor, his knees hitting the tile with enough force to make him gasp. The pain was receding, white spots now littering his vision instead. He tried to focus on a small beetle, pleasantly tottering along the seam where stone met tile. He let his mind calm for a minute more before trying to stand again.

His professors had developed many words to describe Najm since his arrival—special case was the one he’d come to expect. Ticking bomb was one they favored in his absence.

None of which seemed to adequately clarify why Najm’s affinity was the only one that brought about so much pain.

The Dhimr Academy was an ancient, large building that seemed devoid of light at any time of day. Stone arches made up the halls, diamond-shaped porcelain rising up from the sides in decorative circles. There was no effort spared in perfecting such a prestigious academy. And Najm should have loved it. The Najm he used to be might have. He might have marveled at the intricately carved birds raised against the inside walls. The swirls of color exploding beneath the high-raised dome at the main entrance. Or the library with levels of shelves too high for his reach, and too advanced for his mind.

But he had not been that boy for many months.

He rose on shaky legs, leaning heavily against the wall. If his memory served, and it always had, there were eighteen minutes left before someone—likely a guard, possibly a professor on his way to his next class—noticed that Najm was not where he was supposed to be. And if the headmaster’s threats served as well as Najm’s memory, then he had to get back before then.

“I was told you were clever, but only an idiot would try to sneak past the headmaster’s own office and expect no consequences.”

Najm startled, his legs nearly giving out under him as he whipped around to face the voice.

A short girl, years too young to be on this floor, with hair cropped under her chin and an amused glint in her dark eyes stood there. Her arms were crossed, head tilted to the side.

Najm tried to prevent his mind from springing into details but it had already slipped its leash—her concealed fists were clenched, meaning her abilities were currently in use, and since Najm had not heard her approach, that meant she was a Silver. The beige dress she wore fell loosely around her, short sleeves connected to the fabric giving the appearance of a bird’s wings mid-flight. And the Silver threads weaved around the neckline confirmed his theory about her Sahera affinity. A Wielder of Winds. She was too young for this floor, but evidently, her control surpassed her age. She had been moved up a few levels.

And the only reason she would know the concealed back door to the headmaster’s office was only a few steps away, was if she had been one of the students who had played a prank on him months ago.

“Sana Ahmed,” he said, wincing. He forced his breathing to even. Let the details come to you.

She hummed, a small smile curling her lips, “you are not supposed to be down here.”

Najm swallowed. He was still recovering from his last burst of power, and he knew that any response his mind might generate now would be a lie. He settled for a shrug.

“What happens if they find you?” she said, apparently happy to keep active a one-sided conversation.

Najm said nothing. It hurt too much to lie.

“I’m told I can be reckless,” she added thoughtfully, raising a hand and uncurling her fingers one by one. Around them, abandoned classroom doors were being pushed open by an invisible hand. “Do I want to be here when they find you?”

Najm watched her for a moment longer. There was a door at the end of the hall flanked by two guards on the outside. If she wished to allow it, that door could burst open and they’d both be caught out of class. She looked much too amused at the situation, and Najm had heard enough about the students here to realize none of them truly cared to mind themselves.

But then, none of them were being forced to come here against their will.

“What do you want?” he said finally. He doubted she even realized what he was offering. A truth. Truths didn’t hurt. Truths were easy, the world was made of them. Truths were the details his mind overflowed with. But not everyone deserved the truth, just because it was there.

Her eyes gleamed with victory and a flick of her wrist slammed shut the few doors she had opened. “Is it true you are a Gold?”

Najm clenched his jaw, the word had already become a sore bruise against his thoughts. “Yes.”

“Will you let it kill you?”

Najm was struck for a moment by how matter-of-factly she spoke. When the Kashif had revealed to Najm what his affinity was, his tone had been grave, almost sad. He had told him, your mind is not your own. And then paused. It had occurred to Najm then that at this point an adult might stare meaningfully into his eyes and demand he never forgets their words.

But he had not understood then that being a Gold meant never forgetting.

When he spoke again his words were quiet, filled with the fire that haunted his dreams and filled his thoughts. Those same flames turned determined.

“Never.”

Sana watched him for a moment, her gaze curious.

“Good,” she decided finally. She turned away as if to leave before hesitating, glancing back once. It occurred to Najm that while him being there at that exact time, in that exact place was entirely purposeful, Sana had appeared there by coincidence.

Coincidence, the thought echoed in his own mind, almost mocking. The world is hardly ever that careless.

“Stay,” Sana said, at last, her words quiet. “Neither of us needs to be here alone.”

— TAGLIST (ask +/-)

@aeternve; @gnymedes; @hennawar; @kamadevis; @naava-kaiho; @naazyalenksy; @rapunzelle; @revouries; @saifs; @talesofsorrowandofruin; @yaqarah; @adastrals; @chuchoters; @etoilesvp; @fictional-semantics; @herondalelucies; @vaelinor; @chazzawrites; @arkicts; @kalliopeian; @maharaanis; @eduardstudying ; @seamajorshanties;

#wip:ovd #ovd excerpt*#ovd prequel*#mine*#authorsnet #wtwcommunity #writersnet #writers on tumblr #[ idk how to tag this but !! finally some writing ahh ]#sunsetdistrict&starfallisland

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