#I don't know how to turn this into a fic

[damnprecious]

do you ever have a fic idea that you have absolutely no idea how to execute?

I keep thinking about Brook and Marco and their devil fruits and whether or not it'd be possible for them to die from natural causes

and I keep coming back to this one scene in which Brook sits on some cliff overlooking the ocean after years and years and years have passed

his nakama is long since gone, fallen in battle, through a challenger's blade, age or sickness

maybe some of them had kids and grandkids and the kid are gone and the grandkids are either gone or on their way out

there's no more Laboon

so the skeleton sits on the cliff and watches on as the sun slowly sink into the sea

and he picks up his violin and starts to pluck the strings and plays a familiar tune

but the version isn't the bright and jovial tune we're used to

it's quiet and slow and full of memories

and then from the sky above a bright trill of a phoenix joins in, circling above the violinist

until the sun vanishes and only the bird's azure flames illuminate the sky

two relics of a bygone era finding a moment of solace in each other's company

[petricorah]

lee from the tea shop boutta get it (wip) [id in alt]

edit: completed illustration here

[little-pondhead]

Danny moved to Gotham.

Freakshow is touring in Gotham.

Freakshow knows Danny is in Gotham.

Danny knows Freakshow is still after him.

Danny's faith in heroes has been shattered.

Danny turns to the only person powerful enough to run Freakshow out of town, hopefully for good.

Danny turns to the Joker for help.

The Joker is looking for a new punching bag sidekick after Harley Quinn left him.

Danny is just the perfect person to be shaped by the Joker's hands.

Danny becomes the new Joker Junior.

[zecoritheweirdone]

so i saw this old-ish post about an au centering around a villain lewis and a hero arthur,,, and i. may have gotten attached to it,, dkdndkdjs. so i decided to make some edits + doodles based on it!! i also really wanna make a lil oneshot about it as well,, but uh... whether or not i actually follow through on that, we'll see,, skdjsojdks.

edit: good news, gang,, i wrote the fic!!

[autisticrosewilson]

Um if you write Jason having to get drugs for Catherine I want you dead btw. Not only does it tell me you assume the average drug dealer would give the hard shit to a very small child and then not supervise them at all (classist stereotype that all drug dealers are inherently evil + lazy writing with no grasp on reality) and you genuinely think that Catherine was CONSTANTLY high, as if that's even possible without overdosing far sooner than she did. That's without even getting into the bad mom Catherine propaganda.

[oneshotgremlin]

Up and Down

Thoughts on how beings generally perceive their world one spatial dimension lower than the dimensionality of the space they inhabit:

In the flatlands, the way people perceive the world around them is through lines, and so visual receptors HAVE to be on the edges of their shapes

Otherwise by all accounts the person would be effectively blind

So Mrs.Red and Mr.Blue have this strange yellow boy

Who appears to be born with no eyes

(It’s directly in his center, but without tests and doctors nobody can see it)

And for all intents and purposes, the boy is blind

He has to feel his way around buildings and people (in his hand a black cane that his parents bought to aid him)

And he doesn’t know what his parents look like, and only knows them by their voice as they guide him

They love him all the same, regardless

(Meanwhile, he stares up at the infinite expanse of the night sky. But the thing about infinity is that it makes where you stand so infinitesimally tiny in comparison, and no matter how far you run side to side the stars do not move an inch for you. And if they’re all someone sees, the only logical conclusion that can be drawn is that where they are is unspeakably, claustrophobically small)

(It doesn’t matter if the kids at school bully him and the adults look at him with pity and disdain that he can’t even see, because don’t they know how SMALL they are? Don’t they know how small EVERYTHING is?)

And so, with years and years and nowhere else to go, Bill reaches UP

(And no-one else has tried before, because why would they? There is no up or down to conceive, only forwards and backwards and left and right.)

It takes unimaginable amounts of energy to punch a rift into a dimension. In a time and space unmeasurably far away, a six fingered man and his five fingered twin would learn that lesson well

In the flatlands, it’s less of an interdimensional portal looming ominously in a metal room and more of a calculation

l is for length. w is for width. h is for height

And like a computer told to divide by zero, everything falls apart

Did you know that when energetic particles that erupt from the stars collide with a sufficiently nitrogen rich atmosphere, it produces the color blue?

Did you know the only reason the flatlanders didn’t drift off into the freezing cold yet boiling hot void of space, despite not having a planet with the volume and mass needed to produce a gravitational field, is their dimension’s lack of third dimensionality?

Like insects pinned underneath glass, yet the glass protected their corpses from falling apart?

They scream. He cries. He laughs. They die.

It’s an old saying: “When gravity falls and earth becomes sky beware the beast with just one eye”

And when little Billy looks away from the stars, looks down to finally see his tiny, minuscule home

For the first and last time, he sees a blue triangle with a hat, and a red triangle with a bow.

[eveningrainstorm]

People often talk about Rio Ranger as if he's the doll version of Sei but what I find super fascinating is that he isn't, not in the same way Fake Reko or the Dummies are replications of their human counterparts.

Ranger resembles Sei on a surface level — same physical appearance, just an unclear amount older; same way of speaking. But he is unmistakably different. Ranger is an incomplete being, missing his positive emotions, but even the true Ranger is Rio Laizer rather than Sei, because there's still something different.

Rio Ranger is, fundamentally, inhuman and yet desperate to be human. He was created to be jealous of humanity and despite his hatred for them, humanity is what he is always striving for. But it is something that he doesn't possess, and is forced to steal instead. He takes clothes from the dead and uses drawings on cards to feign emotion; he is the Dress-Up Doll, Rearranger, not possessor of anything of his own.

While the other dolls based on humans in the game have identity issues based on their personhood being defined by someone else, being merely a copy of another person, Ranger is not even allowed Sei's identity to base himself on — it's very likely he doesn't even know who Sei was. He does not have Sei's clothes — nondescript and tied to Asunaro as they are — and he does not have the capacity for expressing emotion that Sei had.

When comparing Ranger and Sei in terms of personality, differences are obvious. There are similarities, naturally — besides the abrasive way of speaking, there's the jealousy and desire for validation. But in Ranger, these are present to an extreme — they're all he has. (And, ironically, this is what Gashu claims to believe makes him so human, even when Ranger's inhumanity comes through most clearly in this lack of anything else.)

In Sei, on the other hand, these traits are tempered by logic, to put things in YTTD's beloved logic vs. emotion dichotomy. Despite his outwardly emotional nature, from what we see of him he appears realistic and focused on survival in a way that Kai isn't. He's aggressive and overly casual about killing people, but he doesn't express the glee at violence that Ranger does, only a fierce desire to prove himself and survive. Sei is jealous of Kai and desires Gashu's affection, but also has an understanding of the situation he's in that both Kai and Ranger lack — he can tell that Gashu doesn't care about him as much as he does Kai, and recognizes that the way Gashu treats both of them is wrong. Ranger believes Gashu truly loves him, a fact proven blatantly false by his eventual demise at Gashu's hands. Ironically, this blindness is more similar to Kai as we see him in his minisode, rather than Sei.

Of course, this understanding isn't simply a part of Sei's basic nature, but rather the fact that unlike Kai and Ranger, he has past experience to go on. Sei wasn't born into the Satou family — though his exact origins are unclear, based on his grief for his birth father and how he talks about Asunaro ("all this shady organization crap"), it's possible he wasn't even born into Asunaro at all. Before being sent to Gashu, he had his own father, one who we don't know anything about but whom he apparently loved. He doesn't accept Gashu's treatment of him and Kai the way Kai does because he has known a different father and a different way of life. This doesn't free him from Asunaro's influence — he still accepts the role of assassin they give him and resigns himself to becoming a killer. What choice does he have, after all? But he carries no illusions about Asunaro or his role in it. He knows that the training is cruel, that he is viewed only as a tool, that Asunaro is wrong even if they are also not worth resisting.

This is a major part of why Ranger isn't Sei, why he cannot be; because Asunaro is all Ranger knows. They are his creators, who he was literally built to serve. In Ranger's mind, he is not only Gashu's son and heir, but his creation, his masterpiece. And of course he wouldn't have been created with Sei's memories — why take that risk? Why give him any sort of knowledge of a life outside Asunaro or reason to be disloyal to them?

Ranger is not Sei — so why model Ranger after him? Because Ranger is the idea of Sei, what Sei was meant to be: a counterpart to Kai, a rival, a second choice. Gashu preferred Kai, once; Kai won out over Sei. But Kai has proven himself a failure and betrayed Asunaro, leaving Gashu with no choice but turn once more to Kai's long-dead competition. Ranger is, like Sei, the opposite of Kai, temperamental and vulgar while Kai is stoic and polite, and perhaps more importantly, capable of murder while Kai steadfastly is not.

And yet Ranger isn't Sei. Sei was jealous of those — specifically Kai — he saw as superior or at least as being treated as such; Ranger is this idea taken to its natural conclusion. Sei had lost everything he had outside of Asunaro; Ranger never had anything else to begin with. Sei was a human; Ranger will never be, doomed to forever long otherwise. Ranger is Sei only in the ways Sei was useful — desperate for recognition, willing to kill, a perfect rival to Kai — but something entirely different, an inhuman machine, in all the ways Sei was a liability.

Sei was human, and he knew that he deserved to have that fact respected. Ranger isn't human and gets only the wanting, desperate to be as good as a human even humanity itself is unattainable. Of course, it isn't being a doll that is actually Ranger's problem — it's Asunaro, who view humans and dolls alike as disposable. Sei's humanity didn't make him any less of a tool as far as Asunaro was concerned, it only made him more difficult to control. All Sei wanted was to be seen as an equal to Kai, a person worthy of respect — and this is what he gets, in the end: his face and voice used as a base for one of Asunaro's weapons, while his true identity and personhood remains forgotten.

Ranger has nothing to hold him back from doing his duty for Asunaro, nor does he have anything to hold onto outside of it. In that sense, Ranger is an ideal asset for Asunaro — at least until the very jealousy and hatred Gashu programmed into him goes too far, and he is, once again, deemed a failure. Ironically, Gashu shoots Ranger for attempting to kill a participant, when willingness to kill was perhaps the one true advantage Sei had over Kai.

In the end, Ranger is offered no more humanity in his death than Sei is — they are both merely pawns of Asunaro, set to die at its whims. But while Sei dies in the arms of his brother, receiving one final act of kindness as Kai refuses to kill him, Ranger has no one in either of his deaths but his creators: in his death as Rio Laizer the dubious kindness of Tia Safalin, making his final moments full of agonizing guilt, and of course in his first death, as Rio Ranger, nothing but Gashu's coldness, the bullet in his head a sort of culmination to the favoritism Sei found weighed against him, and a demonstration of just how far Gashu has come from the father who once genuinely cared for Sei. Sei was human, Ranger was not, but as far as Asunaro is concerned, they are exactly the same: tools, easily thrown away as soon as they stop being useful.

[onthewaytosomewhere]

So you want a firstprince fic with a side of platonic soulmates where Alex basically gets adopted by the Fox family? I have just the fic for you ...

Philip knows exactly who Alex is. His father had mentioned that the potential First Family of the United States would be attending some of the same events. On the flight to Brazil, Philip had skimmed the briefing packet about hopeful President Claremont and her family—her two children, June and Alex, described in dry but glowing terms. The First Son. The charming troublemaker. A force of nature. Yet seeing Alex in person—slightly taller than expected, with eyes that burn with frustration as he defends himself against the woman’s tirade—is nothing like reading about him. Philip wishes Henry were here. Henry, with his easy charm and disarming smile, would be the perfect bridge between them. It would make sense for Philip to introduce his younger brother to someone so close in age, a casual way to start a conversation without overthinking it. But Henry is at another event, leaving Philip to handle this moment alone. So, when his father finishes another seemingly endless conversation with yet another dignitary, Philip seizes the opportunity.

[nostalgia-tblr]

stopped reading a fic just there because it was insisting that thor & co went on many violent adventures pre-movies but of course left poor feeble loki behind cos he's a) feeble and b) blessed with a better understanding of imperialism than the rest, and there are a thousand other fics that also think this is obviously what happened but i think i may just have hit my limit on this one :\

[yujeong]

I've made my fascination with filth and how it connects to VP loud and clear at least three times on my blog, but I seriously can't state enough how much it occupies my mind. There's just something really powerful about someone not only being not grossed out by your filth, but, on the contrary, being attracted to it. Pulled into it. Turned on by it. That's what happens to Vegas at the safehouse. Pete is at the worst state he's ever been (debatable, since we don't know much about his past), and yet it's at these moments Vegas starts to become obsessed with him. I love how it's kind of subtle in its presentation. After all, KinnPorsche The Series is a very polished and "clean" show. Everyone is dressed nicely and the fight scenes never get too dirty or too bloody. The sex scenes never get too messy, either. And yet, at the safehouse, Pete is allowed to show parts of his filth to the audience. His hair is greasy, his skin is feverish, his lips are parched, there's black under his eyes, his voice changes, not even mentioning the dirt on him and the blood trickling down his chest. The rest is implied: the bad breath, the yellow teeth, the smell, the digestive problems he 100% has. What's implied is more important, because it's those filthy parts of Pete that Vegas embraces with fervor: he kisses a pill into Pete's unwashed mouth, and he eats Pete's unwashed ass. I love thinking about the juxtaposition of internal vs external filth as well, because to me, the VP arc kind of flips them on their head: Pete's filth is, as I explained above, external. He's filthy in appearance, in body, while Vegas' filth is internal, in his mind, in his heart. By the end of the show, Vegas ends up with external filth (another thing I've posted about that got some mixed reactions lol) that he has to find how to navigate his life with, and this time, it's Pete who embraces it. Don't get me wrong here. Both of these men have internal filth. Pete isn't some innocent, pure angel and he knows it, and Vegas does, too. Self-loathing just doesn't let him remember it most of the time. I'm going to end this post with this screenshot, which is probably one of my favourite VP moments (besides the sex itself), and that's because it's one of the most beautiful things I've ever witnessed on my screen. Look at the pores on their skin, at Vegas' bags under his eyes, at Pete's wet hair above his ear, at the stubble on Pete's chin and Vegas' upper lip. Look at them being filthy and at home. Aren't they gorgeous?

[neiptune]

I think there's been a glitch

c/w: 6k wc, wedding date trope, friends to (possible) lovers, mentions of alcohol, mentions of cheating, levi's smoothness has your brain short circuiting

Just as expected: you’re hating every second of it.

You love your family, you really do. Doesn’t matter how loud and overexcited and nosy they are, it’s always nice to take a few days off to travel back home. Sometimes it’s for birthdays, minor special occasions, surprise visits. Nothing was spontaneous about this specific occasion, though. Train tickets were bought months in advance, your dress picked facetiming your mom (she insisted), your arrival highly anticipated by aunts and uncles and cousins and old friends all coming together for the most significant event of the century: your little brother’s wedding.

To be absolutely honest, the day had a good start. Waking up at dawn didn’t bother you, not with the nutritious breakfast your mom had prepared and the excitement stirring behind your brother’s tense smile. The wedding was agreed to have a mix of traditional shinto-style (to please the bride’s family) and more laid back, western-style influences, something your family has always been accustomed to, given your dad’s roots.

The ceremony held at the shrine was emotional even for you. Hiromi looked gorgeous in her uchikake, gold threads and foil with motifs of waves and cranes standing out on a bright crimson base. You watched them drink the sake and exchange cups first, then vows and wedding rings. It was so hard to process than the man getting married was the same kid who once pooped himself in his crib at daycare and then proceeded to take off his diaper to play with the poop like it was play-doh. Sweet, sweet memories.

Everything started going downhill at the fancy hotel where the reception was set to be held.

The convention room is blinding in its beauty: white pillars, draping fabrics, pretty fairy lights and elegant floral arrangements compliment the venue and the minimalist but luxurious style your families decided to go with. You’re not foreign to wealth, your parents have worked hard to grant you and your sibling a comfortable life and you’re grateful for them. What you don’t like about your family, is how for your aunts and uncles and cousins, everything should constantly be tied to money and profit. Which is why they all turn up their noses when you reply to the dreaded “what’s your job again?” question. Which is why, at every family reunion, you’re forced to sit with your younger cousins and take part in the salary conversation (they could literally compare and brag for hours about raises and bonuses and working overtime and paid vacations). Which is why Aiko, already CEO of a join-stock company at her young age, had first introduced you to one of the employees from the financial department.

Floch Forster was certainly attractive, a real gentleman who’d take you out for fancy dinners, casual dates and fun rides on his flashy, red porsche cayenne. You liked him but your family had always liked him more, your brother going out for drinks with him, your dad inviting him over more and more frequently to watch baseball games or ask for help for the restoration of his old kawasaki ninja, a project he’d been working on for a while.

In the end, the relationship simply didn’t work out and you broke up with him in the most amicable way possible, the time spent together still worth cherishing. You were just too different from each other: his interests not matching yours, his friends way too stuck-up, his parents looking at you like you were some kind of gold digger.

But that’s when he became petty, cruel even, mocking your dreams, deriding your aspirations, sharp edged phrases and words thrown your way so harshly they still dance around your brain from time to time.

Are you surprised by his presence at your brother’s wedding? No. You knew he’d be invited, they’re still friends and you never really told your sibling how the separation actually went down. Is it shocking that he’s here with a pretty brunette anchored to his arm? Also no. He might be an asshole but he’s hot and rich, two qualities weighing pretty damn heavily on the bachelor scale. He’s also the main reason why you’d asked your painfully stoic, blasé friend to accompany you to the reception.

Yes, it was both a childish and desperate move, but you were willing to take drastic measures to save face before your very much extended very much elitist very much expectant family after the fatal phone call with your mom where you’d suddenly blurted out that you’d bring a special someone with you to the wedding.

Your love life (aka currently a big big void made of emotional unavailability & crippling loneliness) was yet another topic open to be attentively scrutinized by those around you. Normally you don’t mind, you really don’t, but just this one time you wanted it to be different. As much as you try not to let it get to you, the facts are that your younger brother is now married, your hot rich ex boyfriend has probably already proposed to his new girlfriend, you still haven’t been given the raise you were expecting and it plainly just sucks to be alone at weddings. It’s the fourth one you have attended on your own now and you can tell by your aunt’s sympathetic gaze and your cousins’ knowing giggles that you’re not gonna be able to push the he had to attend an emergency meeting with external partners lie any longer.

Frustration makes your stomach churn. Why couldn’t he have indulged you just this once?

“Oh, come on”

“No”

“Please!”

“Still no”

“I can beg”

“You’ve been begging for the past ten minutes”

“I can beg better?”

Levi’s resolute glare didn’t soften like it did on the rare occasions when he accommodated your requests.

“Why do you even need this?”

You heaved a deep sigh over his obstinacy, index finger lazily tracing the edge of the steaming cup in front of you. You’ve always been a coffee person but his is the only tea you’ll drink.

“D’you want the honest answer or the pathetic, moping one?”

He raised an eyebrow with a far too evident interest that had you rolling your eyes.

“Both”

“Well, if you must know, it’s because I’m a lame, lonely, disappointment of an adult who’s scared of facing her family’s overcritical comments and knowing glances at her younger sibling’s wedding” you paused to take a deep breath “that and the fact that I already lied and said I was gonna bring someone and my perfect ex everyone loves so much is gonna be there”

Levi slowly took a sip from his own cup, the classic bergamot flavor notes lingering with tantalizing velvety softness on his tongue.

“They both sound pathethic and moping to me”

You shrugged with a weak smile.

“They’re both honest, too”

“You’re gonna be fine” he pushed the little plate of shortbreads towards you.

“Did you hear the part about my perfect ex?” nevertheless, you accepted the cookie offer and, much to your friend’s horrified expression, dipped one into your tea prior to taking a bite.

“Give him my love” Levi ignores your frown and, more importantly, the annoyance he felt listening to you belittling yourself so blatantly.

“Okay” a defeated sigh leaves your lips as you take another cookie “not sure why I thought you’d get it”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Mouth still full, you gestured vaguely with your hands, tiny crumbs attached to your fingertips catching his attention for a split second before you speak again.

“Why would you? You’re a functioning adult. Should’ve asked someone as fucked up as me, maybe Reiner from the marketing department will—”

“A functioning adult?” Levi cut in, tone oozing with skepticism “that’s new. You usually refer to me as the clean freak with a stick up his ass”

“Which you are” your clarification is met with another glare “but you wouldn’t understand what being lame means”

“How so?” he challenged, eyes narrowed and some sort of weird warmth in the pit of his stomach he didn’t know how to shake off.

“You have your shit together, Levi. M’sure your family wouldn’t shoot sympathetic gazes your way if you showed up to your brother’s wedding on your own”

“I don’t have a brother”

“Not the point” you let out an obnoxious groan as you slightly pushed the empty cup away and dropped your head to rest on your overlapped arms, forehead pressing on the soft fabric of your sleeve. Levi sat still, grey eyes fixed on you.

“You’re not lame, idiot” no one else would’ve been able to tell that his tone had gone softer “I’m not dating anyone either and you still think I’m a functioning adult”

Exasperated, you turn your head so that your cheek is now pressed to your wrist as you glare at him.

“But that’s your choice. You don’t like anyone. While I had three of my coworkers come to my desk just to ask who the handsome dude passing by to bring me a homemade bento box was”

Half a smile dripping with smugness tugged at his lips, one that caused you to roll your eyes again.

“Don’t even” you warn, already gagging at the idea of him considering to visit you at work more often “forget I said anything. I’ll handle it”

As Levi inched across the table to flick your forehead and then got up to collect your cups, you had to quickly whisk away the thought of how much your family would have genuinely liked someone like him too.

On second thought, it’s not really fair to blame him. You might not be a greatly functioning one, but you’re still an adult. You can face something as trivial as the disappointment of multiple generations of your family, right? Either way, it would’ve felt wrong. It would’ve been awkward. Levi is stiff, way too cold, the opposite of cordial. He would hardly be credible as the good friend he actually is, let alone pass for a boyfriend. Has he ever even dated someone? You’re sure he has, given how weirdly popular he is. Yeah, there was one girl, what was her name again? Petra? Ugh, he hardly shares anything truly personal with you anyway. Sure, you can guess he’s a good partner. Handsome, kind, talented enough to cook killer meals, maybe even good in bed. It just wouldn’t hurt him to be a little more… amicable. But maybe that’s what women find attractive? The fact that he’s like this weird, interesting secret thing to continuously discover and unwrap until it suddenly turns into the perfect, passionate lover any woman wants to end up with?

The champagne you’re downing at the hotel bar is proving to be a wonderful ally, although your mind currently seems to be wandering a little. Or it was, at least until a familiar, awfully close and quite frankly unsettling voice causes a harsh return to the pathetic reality you’re trying to escape.

“Drowning your sorrows in alcohol? You haven’t changed at all” the venomous smile on his face is so painfully familiar it has your insides twisting right away.

“I’m really not in the mood, leave me alone” you mutter, not even sparing him a glance as you stubbornly focus on the golden bubbles popping in your freshly filled flute.

But Floch takes a seat right next to you and elegantly orders two martinis.

“Shaken, not stirred” he adds, to live up to yet another clichè. You can hardly suppress a snort.

“I would argue you already are. Alone, I mean” the rhythmic drumming of his fingers on the mahogany counter distracts you for a few seconds. When your gaze finally meets his, the fake sympathy glistening mischievously in his amber eyes almost has you barfing on the spot.

“Where’s your trophy wife? Is she even legal?”

Unperturbed, Floch smiles sweetly at you.

“She reminds you of yourself, doesn’t she? A young dove in need of rescue, held captive by the wrong guy” he inches closer, smile growing wider “but she’s nothing like you. You’re too exhausting to love, no one in their right mind would choose that”

And just like that, memories that cut as deep as razors make their way back to you right then and there.

If you really want to lose weight you shouldn’t eat the free bread at restaurants.

I feel like you’re faking this just to make me feel guilty.

You’re not that attractive anymore, you know that?

I’m sorry you feel that way.

Could’ve done so much better than you all this time.

Now I don’t feel so bad about having cheated.

The flute in your hand might very well shatter from how tightly you’re holding it, knuckles white as two drinks gracefully slide in front of you. This is exactly what you wanted to avoid, not him entirely but letting him know that he can still get under your skin.

“Fuck you” in a final, desperate attempt at playing off your discomfort as indifference, you hold him level in your gaze, a boldness so weak it has him chuckling.

“Am I interrupting something?”

You both turn to your right, the shock laced into your features comical enough to be met with a patient, slight smile.

Levi looks nothing less than dashing in his black suit, hands buried in the pockets of pants you wouldn’t even think he’d own. Since you’re pretty sure the alcohol has you hallucinating at this point, you open your mouth to voice your surprise, Floch’s presence long forgotten and filed away at the back of your mind. But right before you can sabotage yourself with dumb, unnecessary inquiries, Levi takes a step forward and with one, swift motion, cradles your cheek in his hand to gently press his lips to your forehead.

“Sorry I’m late” he murmurs, fighting back another smile before the dumbstruck way you keep looking at him.

“We haven’t met” Levi’s eyes follow the voice and flicker to the person sitting next to you. That’s when you snap back to reality once again. Goddamn, maybe the champagne wasn’t that good of an ally after all.

“We haven’t” he replies and Floch introduces himself, offering a hand that never gets shaken. Levi gives him a nod instead, a silvery gaze cold as steel you’ve never seen him direct to anyone. Perhaps that’s why it makes you shiver.

“Should we go? I’d like to meet your parents” his voice is kind as he looks at you again and you accept the support of his hand to hop down from the barstool. He doesn’t let go as he guides you away from the hotel bar and lightly squeezes your hand even if it’s cold and clammy.

“How are you here? When… why?” you whisper, still unable to shake off the shock of his sudden, unexpected presence.

“Stop asking dumb questions and play your part”

That’s more like it, you think. Thank god for the infuriating, irritating tone and impatient glare. Their familiarity will certainly be enough to ground you despite the warmth you can still feel on your forehead, right where his lips were pressed a few seconds earlier.

But then he looks at you again, head slightly tilted to the side, eyes slowly taking in your figure so blatantly, in a way so uncommon for him, it has the same warmth from before exploding in your chest as well.

“You look very nice, by the way”

Fuck being grounded, apparently.

The champagne is no longer buzzing in your veins but it might as well be since your mind feels all over the place and you haven’t had a single second to collect your thoughts. Not in the middle of so many introductions, your mother’s obnoxious questions, your very much tipsy aunt’s inappropriate jokes, the microphone you had to approach and the speech you had to give in front of hundreds of people, one of them always focused on you with such intensity you won’t have to rewatch the videotape at family reunions to know that words came out ungraceful and wrong.

To be honest, the most unsettling thing is how smoothly the whole thing is going. It’s not weird, it’s definitely not awkward and he seems to be in complete control. Staggered, you’re left watching with wonder floating in incredulous eyes, a Levi you don’t think you’ve ever met before. It’s so effortless, the way he speaks to people he’s never met before and manages to come off as interesting, witty, charming. He’s smiling, he’s even respectfully offering elegant chuckles to uncomfortably personal questions and stories you just know he doesn’t actually think are funny.

As you dine at the table filled with curious old friends and noisy cousins, for the first time able to stay silent as all the attention is directed towards someone other than yourself, a weird thought crosses your mind. Levi, your friend Levi, fits so well. He’s perfectly at ease around chatty strangers, bold roses, tea lights and candles in clear metallic holders. How’s that even possible? The Levi you know, your Levi, curses under his breath if his usual barista tries to make small talk. He grunts if the cashier at the cinema chirps an overly excited hope you enjoy the movie, sir. You literally know he’s once replied to one of his clients’ email with please stop hoping your email finds me well, it never does.

So who’s the person sitting next to you, warm knee flush against yours underneath the table, features relaxed, pink tinted cheeks, courtesy of the cabernet sauvignon you’ve been served? It has your head spinning, the thought of him enduring a 4-hour train trip (he hates trains) to reach a town he’s never been to (he hates Kobe and its humid, subtropical climate) to attend a wedding (he hates social gatherings) as your date. What had him changing his mind? When did he change it? How is he so good at coming off as this bundle of… of… confidence and magnetism and graciousness?

He’s been impeccable so far, going as far as to bring a shugi-bukuro envelope with 50.000 JPY inside as a wedding gift.

Isn’t that what they’d expect from the groom’s sister’s partner?

Clearly, you have every intention of giving him that money back. As soon as you recover from the sudden and absolutely unexplainable embarrassment you feel every time his eyes flicker to you during a conversation or the shudder that runs down your spine when his hand gently presses on the small of your back to guide you from one table to the other, as different family members and friends of yours excitedly motion you to approach them.

It doesn’t have anything to do with him specifically, you tell yourself. It’s just the shame you must be feeling at carrying out such a pathetic act in front of everyone, it’s the awkwardness of having forced one of your closest friends to go out of his way to support your stupid, childish plan that now has you feeling all weird and vulnerable. Levi is not being his usual self and that makes you uncomfortable because you’re not allowed to be your usual self in turn. No sarcastic remarks, no witty comebacks, not a drop of the usual teasing you enjoy annoying him with.

It’s not him, it’s the whole setting. That’s what you tell yourself when Levi asks you to dance.

“Why?” you come off as defensive and he furrows his brows, confused.

“Because it’s what couples do at weddings?”

“We don’t have to” you’re not sure what you’re doing at this point “you can’t even dance”

He huffs at that, inching a little closer to casually lift the strap of your cocktail dress, cool fingertips barely brushing the skin of your arm as they guide the thin length of fabric up to your shoulder. The simple, intimate gesture stirs something in you.

“Are you coming or not? He’s watching”

You follow his gaze and meet Floch’s, three tables to the left. At this point the thought of him seems so worthless, so distant in time, you don’t even care about his judgmental glare anymore. But you don’t have the chance to make that clear, because your date whispers a soft “come on” so close to your ear his voice seems to trickle down your spine just to make you shiver and then offers his arm as an invitation for you to get up.

Regular you would’ve mocked the gesture, called him a victorian ghost or something. Current you, on the other hand? Apparently she’s accepting the support of his arm and can barely register Aiko’s excited squeal as she follows him all the way to the different couples already filling up the middle of the convention room, too disoriented to even remember she is the one who can’t dance. Still, the upbeat rhythm of the song being played is familiar enough to give you a false sense of security: you can wing it. Until you can’t. Because right as you position yourself in front of your friend with a tense smile, the familiar beat is abruptly taken from you. The music doesn’t stop, it just has the audacity to change into an excessively romantic, exceptionally slow, sappy track.

But Levi doesn’t look as dazed as you. He doesn’t waver as he pulls you close with one swift motion, right hand warm on your back while you barely have the time to balance yourself, fingers tightening around the fabric of his jacket, right above the shoulder.

“You’re being weird” he clasps your other hand, one eyebrow raised in that overcritical way of his.

“You’re being weird” you parrot back.

“What d’you mea—fuck” he curses as quietly as possible when you stomp on his foot, looking down for the first time to notice how weirdly and out of step you’re actually moving.

“Shit, sorry!” you, on the other hand, are not as quiet and attract the unwanted attention of the couple dancing nearby.

“What exactly are you doing?” Levi’s tone is familiarly mocking, which takes some of the weird awkwardness away.

“I’m not really good at this, okay?” you retort, praying your harsh reply remains private this time. Amused, he hums.

“No way”

“Shut up” you whine and accidentally step on his expensive leather shoe again, hard enough to make him hiss.

“Just follow my lead” Levi gives your left hand an impatient squeeze and you scoff with a theatrical ugh.

“Sexist”

He rolls his eyes but says nothing because you comply and honestly try to keep track of how he’s moving, intensely focused on not trampling on his foot again.

“Hey” his voice is dangerously soft once again “eyes on me”

Reluctantly, you look up from your feet and take a deep breath.

“Why are you this tense?”

“M’not a good dancer” you blurt the words out, as if to convince yourself. He’s noticed, of course he’s noticed. Idiot.

“Okay” Levi stops for a moment and gently grabs your wrists to guide your arms around his neck. He then positions his hands on your hips and applies the slightest pressure to guide your movements. “Better?” he asks and you know he’s just wondering if this is easier for you, but the dryness of your throat seems to be taking over your ability to speak. You resort to a simple nod as he sways to the beat, feet barely lifting while stepping from side to side. You get accustomed to the movement after a while and manage to move your body slowly back and forth, the comfort of not feeling like a wooden block allowing you to relax a little.

“How are you so good at this?” it almost sounds like you’re accusing him, must be why he cracks a smile.

“Took a few classes with Hange, they were obsessed and had no one else to go with”

You’re finally able to let out a genuine, incredulous laugh.

“I’m sorry, what? So you just joined? Goodness of your heart?”

Levi shrugs.

“They had to buy me lunch for a month. Totally worth it”

There’s mirth glistening in his eyes when the pressure of his hands changes slightly, the left one tightening on your waist to subtly guide you in the opposite direction. Has he danced like this with Hange as well? If yes, did they feel as flustered and ridiculous as you’re feeling? Probably not, because they’re friends and friends should not experience the weird body reactions you seem to be having at the moment, goosebumps blossoming underneath his fingertips, the staccato of your heartbeat, blood wooshing in your ears. Fuck.

“Tense again” his eyes are narrowed now, but not in his usual, threatening way. He’s studying you, looking for something he can’t seem to pinpoint amidst your dazed expression and sweaty hand. He would’ve been grossed out by anybody else’s palm but this is you, so Levi can’t really bring himself to give a shit.

“I’m sorry” you murmur and the sudden, sheepish route catches him off guard. You’re avoiding his gaze, eyes focused on something, somewhere over his shoulder.

“For what?”

“This whole charade” you whisper the last word, head hanging low just an excuse not to look at him “I’m so pathetic you felt bad enough to drop all your plans, come all the way here, be perfect and nice to everyone, spend so much money and I can’t even dance…” you sniffle, horrified by the sensation of being on the verge of bursting into tears in the middle of the dance floor.

Levi is silent long enough to prompt you to timidly look up from your shoes again. You’re worried he’s gonna be mad because what the hell, this is what you wanted. You asked him to do this for you and now it’s too late to whine about how sorry you are. But he doesn’t look mad. His features are unreadable as you return his gaze, which stirs a whole new kind of nervousness in you.

“I’m going to twirl you” the gentle warning takes you by surprise as Levi takes your hand from behind his neck, steps back a little and lifts your arm above your head. A bit stiffly, you turn around under it.

“Again” he prompts, arm already guiding you through another twirl. You comply, so clumsily a chuckle slips past your lips and Levi cracks another smile as you balance yourself against him, arms around his neck once again.

“See? You can dance” he mutters with a tone so soft it makes your heart squeeze.

“Please” you scoff, voice still a little broken that just won’t. Do.

Levi hums to himself, like he does whenever he’s trying to come to a decision.

“Let’s dip”

Your eyes comically grow in size.

“Let’s not?”

“I’ll do all the work” he playfully gives your hip a light squeeze to emphasize his words “you just have to let go”

“I’m not exactly good at letting go” you hope he can sense the warning in your tone but all you get is another eye roll.

“Yeah, I noticed” his tone, unlike yours, is weirdly serious “d’you trust me?”

Oh, well, putting it that way surely isn’t fair.

“Unfortunately, you’ve given me a reason or two to do that” you heave another sigh, defeated. Another smile tugs at his lips.

“I’m gonna do it slowly” he reaches behind his neck to grab your hand again, while his fingertips rise from your hip to your upper back.

“Twirl” Levi gently spins you again and his touch is featherlike when it glides down your side, grazes your stomach and settles on your lower back as you turn around, warm palm pressing firmly against it. The hand holding yours anchors your arm around his neck, then finds place on the nape of yours.

“Now, relax” it’s barely a whisper, so close you can’t hold back a shudder he pretends not to notice.

You soften your knees and then, with a movement so swift and natural, you’re turned to the side and pressed flush against him for a second, nestled in his embrace before you shut your eyes and Levi gently dips you, one of his strong arms secured around your waist to support your weight, the hand sustaining your neck tightening around your hair for a moment so brief you think you’ve imagined it.

He pauses as if you weigh nothing, then slowly brings you up again and you open your eyes, brows furrowing right as he lets completely go of you and the warmth of his arms is taken away so abruptly.

“You okay?” you didn’t think you’d be the one asking the question but something seems to be bothering him as he returns your confused gaze.

“Yeah. Can we take a break?” still weirdly well mannered, you find yourself thinking as you agree to make your way to your table again. Only he stops you right before you can take a seat next to Aiko, who’s blatantly gushing over you’re not sure what, precisely. Is it him? Or the weird dance that had you looking like a complete fool in front of everyone?

“How long before the cake?” he politely asks your cousin and she shrugs, not even attempting to hide the wide grin stretching her lips.

“Maybe around ten minutes”

“Permission to steal the groom’s sister for around ten minutes?”

Aiko’s chuckle isn’t enough to distract you from the tightening of your chest, something not entirely unpleasant swarming around in your stomach when he slips his fingers in between yours.

“Permission granted” she winks and you still, for the life of you, cannot understand why your heart flutters as you follow him outside the room, away from the party and the music and the chatter and all those happy, proud glances you’re no longer able to return because of how embarrassed you are by your own lie.

“Where are we going?” you bring yourself to ask, finding it exceptionally odd that he’s waiting for the elevator.

“My room”

“What? Why?”

Levi turns his head to look at you, eyebrows furrowing at your strangled tone.

“I forgot the wedding gift on the nightstand”

“Oh” you let out a nervous chuckle “right. And why d’you need me for that?”

“You look like you’re about to throw up, thought you could use a few minutes away from the crowd”

Well, he’s not wrong. But that doesn’t mean he gets to know.

“Dunno what you’re talking about” you flash him a fake smile and he skeptically hums as the doors open and you step inside.

Of course his room is located at the top floor of the building, where all the suites are. One thing about Levi is that he likes treating himself: whether it’s shopping from brands that produce top quality loose leaf teas, selecting premium suiting fabrics or always ordering the most expensive red wine at a restaurant, his taste is impeccable. He travels first class and only stays at 5-star hotels, so you really shouldn’t feel the guilt pangs stinging like needles in your throat when he swipes the key card through the magnetic reader and swings the door open. You shouldn’t feel so bad while taking in the king size bed, the LCD tv, the additional area with armchairs and a whole sofa, the private balcony. But you do. And when he turns to look at you, still standing by the door with a heartbreaking, bashful expression taking over your features, Levi clenches his jaw.

“What are you doing?” you ask as you watch him slide the balcony glass door.

“So many questions” he prompts you to precede him with a slight tilt of his head.

“What about the gift?”

Levi hates seeing you so defensive, so upset. He’s not used to that weird self-consciousness, not when you’re with him at least. Didn’t he come to obtain the exact opposite of what he’s getting? Isn’t he here to shield you from embarrassment, uneasiness? Why are you persisting in your stubborn shame?

“I get around ten minutes, remember?” he attempts a smile your tense features choose not to mirror. You sigh softly instead and, still uncertain, accept his invitation.

Outside the air is cool, a balm for your feverish skin. The balcony furniture includes two wooden armchairs, one small coffee table and a small couch. You plop down on the latter, not even having the energy to properly appreciate the beauty of a sparkly Kobe right at your feet, silhouettes of skyscrapers standing out against the night sky, the flickering lights of the harbor shining in the distance, tower so familiar you’d recognize it from a mile away. It’s home.

“So” Levi makes himself comfortable next to you, the breeze gently combing his hair back “wanna tell me what’s wrong?”

Plenty is wrong, the most urgent matter being the overpowering attraction you’re feeling for one of your closest friends. It’s fine, no use lying to yourself any longer. Maybe it’s always been there, underneath all the teasing and the jokes and his rare smiles that always felt like small victories you got to collect and preserve in your memory at the end of each day, when  you’d often replay the hours spent together as pretty movie frames in your mind right before drifing off to sleep. But it’s easy, playing weird feelings off as regular familiarity that comes with friendship. You just didn’t think this night would make things feel so different, so good.

He’d be a great actual date, a wonderful actual boyfriend too, probably. He’s already a wonderful, actual friend. One that dropped everything to rush to the rescue of annoying, silly you, seemingly an adult but really a scared excuse of a grown up who can’t confront her family on a matter as trivial as not being in a relationship. It’s mortifying, really. You wouldn’t think it’d feel that humiliating, especially not in his presence.

Slender fingers delicately close on the fist you don’t realize you’re clenching. They’re warm as they try to make their way underneath yours, a silent plea for you to let go of the fabric clutched in your hand.

“I already told you” your hand lets go at last and slips easily from underneath his touch, the silk of your carefully picked cocktail dress wrinkled already.

“You feel guilty about me dropping all my plans, coming all the way here, beng perfect and nice to everyone, spending so much money…” he’s being playful but the teasing doesn’t elicit the eye roll or chuckle he was hoping he’d get. Your head just hangs lower, chin almost pressing to your chest, as if you’re trying to curl into yourself.

“About that, you’re gonna accept a complete refund. Train tickets, this room, wedding gift, everyth—”

Levi cuts you off by grabbing your jaw and turning your head towards him, eyes narrowed in a familiarly impatient gaze. He can’t believe the nonsense you’re sputtering out, the weird formality of it all.

“Stop that” his voice vibrates with determination and words are forced to die in your throat as he inches closer, grip loosening ever so slightly “you keep looking at things and seeing the opposite of what they are”

“So what, you didn’t spend a fortune to be here?” you challenge and he sighs, as done as a person can humanly be.

He lets go of your jaw but you don’t pull back.

“You asked me to be here”

“And I’m trying to apologize for it!”

God, you’re wearing him out.

You get up from the couch and, out of frustration, rest your back against the railing, palms behind you pressed on the cold, metal edge. Levi is looking at you so intensely you’re tempted to turn around and just take the view in to calm yourself because this is going downhill enough to become a fight and fights with Levi are never pretty. You should know.

“Remember the reasons you put forward to try and convince me to come?” his calm tone is such a sharp contrast to his hardened features, it takes you by surprise.

“Pretty sure I called myself lame and pathetic quite a few times” you shoot him a frown.

“Yeah” he gets up as well “then I end up actually getting here and guess what I found?”

You let out a dry laugh, one with not an ounce of humor embedded in it.

“A version of me worse enough to be brought in your room to hide?”

Two well measured steps and Levi is in front of you right as you cross your arms in defense.

“The version of you I already know” he retorts, exasperated “beautiful, intelligent, clumsy. A functional adult with a family that loves her very much”

“You’re drunk” you breathe out but it’s yours the head that’s spinning. Somehow, Levi knows. At least that’s what you guess when he steps closer, arms effectivey caging you against the railing as he slightly leans forward.

“Hardly” he mutters, pensive, and you swear his eyes flicker to your lips for a second “you don’t see things for what they are. I didn’t see a perfect ex, just a self entitled asshole. Didn’t meet hypercritical family members, just old-school people who are unyielding in their affection for you. I could’ve stayed home, honestly, you seem to be bothered by me the most”

“I’m not bothered by you, don’t be fucking stupid” you blurt out, saliva levels down to zero at this point. What is he even doing? Why is he so close, why does he smell so nice and where the fuck is that wedding gift?

“Ah, there she is” Levi offers a soft smile “had me missing her all night”

He then moves a strand of hair away from your forehead and the pads of his fingers linger on your temple, then barely graze your skin as they travel all the way down to your cheek and along your jaw.

You’re unfamiliar with this version of him. It’s a version that compliments the one that’s met your family and friends, the wedding date you’ve been lucky enough to score. This version knocks the wind out of your lungs and has your knees weak.

But then something happens, the snap of invisible fingers and, just like that, the magic wears out. Your skin is left burning and his arms set you free as he takes a step back and shoves his hands in his pockets.

“I had a good time so enough with your guilt-ridden bullshit”

You’re barely able to catch your breath, still dizzy from the change of the overall mood. Perhaps he’s right and you’re the drunk, hallucinating one.

Levi slides the balcony door again but goes back inside first this time, leaving you little to no time to pull yourself together or calm the pounding of your heart. He collects no envelope from the nightstand before you both leave the room, a burning sensation churning in your stomach as you follow him down the hallway, feeling utterly boneless when you stop in front of the elevator. Maybe that Petra girl did have a point.

“There’s still one thing you probably haven’t noticed about me” right as a ding echoes in the empty hallway he turns his head to look at you, standing a few feet behind “I’m a terrible fucking liar. Wouldn’t convince anyone if I tried”

[wanderingblindly]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers! Spread the self-love 💞

oooooooh this is so cruel, how dare you make me consider my fics this way????? reflecting on this made me realize that a lot of my personal favs are actually my less popular ones. that makes sense, in a way; often my favorites are where i'm trying to express a really specific emotion or idea, which might not always resonate with people? anyways, ordered from oldest to newest:

Eighteenth Summer (Do You Wish We'd Fall in Love?)

ambient, pining, sort of sepia toned vignette filtered lestappen. i remember really wanting to capture the ambiguity that comes with being 18 and finishing high school -- a new future looms even when you feel like you haven't finished living what you have now. very much being on a precipice, but with a happy ending :)

You Bring Me Closer To God

i literally fucking love this universe so much. even if the fic wasn't special, writing all the dynamics between the bandmates, between the bar flies, between oscar and lando... it was such a joy. i still think about writing more within Dirty Blondes all the time.

I Know Your Name (But Not Who You Are)

lestappen in grief! the passage of time! the fear that life has somehow stopped moving on but also changed more than you can stomach! wanting things from your childhood but having to accept that you can never go back! but perhaps learning that moving forward is beautiful, too! yet another one where i entered it trying to capture a specific feeling, and i think i managed to like... use the setting in a way that achieved that.

Someone in Seattle

i like this one because i managed to write a fic i'd love to read. i love fics that explore the soft, meandering development of relationships -- the ones where falling in love is a bit of a blurry line, and it happens just by the nature of truly Seeing each other. it's a love letter to my home, and i think of her very fondly.

Impasse of Biting

THIS IS THE ONLY FIC WHERE I FEEL LIKE I GOT EVEN CLOSER TO LIKE. SOMETHING YOU COULD ANALYZE. THERE ARE CHARACTER MOTIVATIONS! THERE'S SPECIFIC WORD CHOICE! THERE'S UNRELIABLE NARRATION AND COMPLICATED EMOTIONAL TIES! idk. it's one that i feel like each reader could come away with something wildly different, and (as someone who doesn't often deal in ambiguity), that makes me proud.

[juliaswickcrs]

EVOLUTION THROUGH COSTUME :: TESS BECK ( insp )

"follow me my friend, to glory at the end"

taglist: @bisexualterror @foxesandmagic @iron-parkr @camiemendess @a-song-of-quill-and-feather

@arrthurpendragon @starcrossedjedis @drbobbimorse @kingsmakers @noratilney

@stanshollaand @astarionbae @darth-caillic @mystic-scripture @aliverse

@misshiraethsworld @asirensrage @eddiemunscns

@princessmadelines @impales @waterloou @daughter-of-melpomene @eddysocs

MARVEL TAGLIST: @notxjustxstories @themaradwrites

[leiascully]

with halloween coming up i’ve been dying for a spooky mermaid/siren au… scully being a beautiful scary ass mermaid and maybe mulder being a captain of a ship or something? maybe she just wants to lure him to his death or maybe it’s smutty or both? (i love your work you have no idea!! ty!!)

Scully snapped the telescope open and peered into the fog. There it was again - that flash or glint. It looked like metal, but there wasn’t any metal out there. Surpassing strange. She holstered the telescope at her hip and went to find her captain.

“Sir,” she said to Captain Skinner, “I think there’s something out there. I keep seeing a flash, like light reflecting off metal. But there’s no light, and no metal.”

“It’s the fog,” Captain Skinner said. “It’ll play tricks on your eyes, Scully. I’ve seen things over the years you wouldn’t believe. Keep your head level.” He patted her shoulder with a firm hand. Far firmer than he would have had he known she was a woman. Scully had run away to join the Navy, disguising herself as a man named Daniel. So far she’d managed to maintain the charade, padding out her uniform a bit and binding her breasts down. She shaved her face diligently every day while the crew teased her aspirations, and she had a sack full of sand that she tucked into her breeches to mock a member. She’d worked herself up to become Skinner’s first mate. They were on a little-regarded ship — the crew joked she ought to be called The Exile rather than The Exhilaration — but Scully was still proud of the accomplishment.

“I’ll return to my post, sir,” she said.

“Sometimes it feels like the fog is alive,” Skinner said. “Trust an old seadog. Keep your eyes to yourself.”

“Yessir,” she said.

The fog seemed thicker as she returned to the bridge. Scully couldn’t see any of the other crew members from her lookout spot under the figurehead. They sat at anchor; most of the crew were in their hammocks below decks. It was as if she was alone in the world. She leaned on the low railing and peered into the blankness. It was strange to see so much fog in the Caribbean; the waters had been clear when they’d left Bermuda, and the sky had been cloudless.

There it was again: a flicker of light, anomalous and uncanny. It flickered again and again, almost like a signal. Scully couldn’t see anything. She unholstered her telescope again, gazed out over the invisible water. There! A sinuous curve broke the surface, gone as quickly as she’d glimpsed it. And then, oh, a face! She saw it so clearly through her lenses: it had a square jaw and deepset eyes. A man, in the water. She skinned out of her jacket and rolled her telescope into it, tucking them against the hull of the ship. She kicked off her boots and stepped onto the rail. For a moment she balanced there, hesitating, but no, there was someone in the water and it was her duty to rescue them. She dove neatly into the sea.

Almost as soon as she’d delved under the surface of the water, she was swept up in a strange current. She opened her eyes, trying to get her bearings. The salt burned, but she could see something circling her. The coils of something tightened around her until she could feel scales sliding over the thin material of her shirt and breeches. She was embraced from shoulders to knees. She couldn’t move. She ought to be panicking, but she felt strangely calm. And there was the face again, those deep eyes peering at her.

(read the rest on AO3 - 4300 words, M for sexual situations, Navy sailor Scully has the time of her life with a merMulder)

[lunarharp]

"Found out" set in kind of a made-up chapter where the girls are in trouble, or something.

[cienie-isengardu]

MK1 fanfiction

EDIT: now all chapters will be collected under the title of Cracked mirror of black, cold soul

No one asked for it, but as I did not get enough Bi-Han & Shang Tsung interaction, I was forced to write about them myself. The first part is at least done, we will see if I managed to finish the second. Mainly written as a character study of MK1!Shang Tsung, a bit about his relationship with Damashi, General Shao and potential partnership with Sub-Zero post story-mode.

There was a time when Shang Tsung was nothing more than just a pitiful loser clinging to an even more pathetic life. All he could do to survive was to pretend to be someone else, someone better, wiser; someone worthy of trust, someone people like and listen to. Lying to people was easy. Lying to himself anyone would care if he died came much harder and harder with each passing day. 

Then came Damashi and offered him not only power but also kindness, a praise for making progress, be it for fulfilling her plans or for his own growing skills. He would gladly burn the world just to earn her smile, a good word, anything really. She made him for the first time in a long long time feel valued, appreciated, even liked despite who he was under all the polite words and charming smiles.

But that was a lie too. A lie he foolishly fell for, like a stray, hungry dog falls for a kind pat on the head and a little treat before the new owner will kick it for fun.

Shang Tsung was many things but definitely not a dog to be kicked, be it by Liu Kang or his Titan self. If none of the gods cared for him, he wouldn't care for them either. And now, after he ran away from prison and a terrifying storm washed him ashore on a deserted island full of magic secrets to unlock, he had time and means to repay each of his pursuers, to make all the realms if not respect his skills then fear them.

Since Damashi’s - his own Titan self’s - betrayal many days and nights have passed and with each Shang Tsung’s mastery of magic grew stronger, his knowledge deepened, his confidence restored and strengthened. He claimed the island as his new home, the impregnable fortress secured by the most wicked, devilish and brilliant traps he could think about and for the first time in ages, he finally felt like belonging to the right place.

It was as good a life as it could be. Not perfect, as Shang Tsung still needed to figure out how to secure his food supplies before he would tame the wild land, unused for years and maybe the animals lurking in the shadows could be useful too. A domestic cattle would be a great addition for sure, as it was the only type of animal he had any skill to maintain but then again, there was no way he would engage in tedious farming. He had no time nor patience for that kind of work yet he did not want any stranger on his island either. All he could do for now was to eat the catched fishes and some plucked from tree fruits while bringing all the needed ingredients and supplies from a quick trip to the land. Using magic portals was a tricky solution - magic brought unwanted attention and once used, always left some traits to follow but after the last storm he did not feel safe on a boat sailing through the open sea. On the land, he did run into some of his former allies, exchanged important news and some secrets here and there, never truly betraying where he was hiding. The General and his men treated Shang Tsung with suspicion, always demanding more than he offered. On the other hand, he and Quan Chi worked well in the past, but after the last betrayal, Shang Tsung couldn’t trust anyone anymore. Everyone blamed him for his Titan self’s lies, like he was the one lying to them all. The Royal Family wanted his head, the Earthrealm Champions hunted him too. It was a mess, amusing and irritating at the same time. 

He was going to deal with that matter too, when the right time came. For now, Shang Tsung enjoyed the new found magic - the power awaiting for those who will dare to reach out for it. A power he didn’t need to share with anyone.  

Everything would feel much better though if Sub-Zero didn’t somehow find a way to break into his new home like all the deviously set up traps meant nothing.

Shang Tsung should know something was off the moment he felt coldness creeping into his bones, but in all fairness, it was always cold here. He did not have yet an idea how to heat the interior of an abandoned fortress and as much as he liked to not freeze in his own sleep, luxury like that was not on his priority list. He should be more cautious, more focused on the change in the air about him than walking straight into his own room and then be dumstocked at the sight of Sub-Zero looking through his books as if he had lived here forever and Shang Tsung was the unwanted guest.

“Your security is shitty” was all he got as a greeting. Cold, sharp, uncaring words judging him as an incompetent idiot. The bastard did not even bother to look at him, just kept rummaging through the books like it was the only thing worth this attention.

Shang Tsung wasn’t sure what offended him more - being ignored or watching as his precious belongings were touched without his permission. He liked books way more than he liked people. 

In the last few years he killed people for less than that yet he smiled his most charming smile, the gears in his head working fast and furious on how to turn the unpleasant situation for his own advantage. The fact that Sub-Zero allowed him to see himself in the open instead of lurking in the shadows to cut his throat gave Shang Tsung a reason for a bit of optimism. As far as he heard from his former, maybe-still-maybe-not allies, Lin Kuei rejected Liu Kang’s authority and were on their own. It of course did not mean that Sub-Zero was his friend or ally nor that he wouldn't murder Shang Tsung at the end of day, either to reconcile with Fire Lord or to bribe the god to let the Lin Kuei be in peace.

Shang Tsung couldn’t blame Bi-Han for that - in this cruel world, everyone was looking after their own best interest, but the vision of losing his life did not sit well with him at all. He wasn’t afraid of fighting and he did beat down great Champions in the last battle, but out of all opponents, it was Sub-Zero's ice axe that was the closest to beheading him for good.

He did not plan to forget that anytime soon.

“What an unexpected surprise,” he said, all the soft, so sweet smile, velvet voice and sharp eyes analyzing the danger standing before him. “What can I do for you, my friend? Or did you just miss my humble company?”

He teased with feigned innocence because men hated when he said ridiculous stuff like that. Shang Tsung hated it himself, because he knew no one would miss him at all.  

“For one, drop the false politeness” came Sub-Zero’s cold reply, a mix of disapproval and command that Shang Tsung was so used to, because this was how people treated him, the real him, all his life. “We are not friends.”

There was a flare of anger in Shang Tsung now, the desire to prove himself the superior, not a pitiful dog anyone could kick and command - but he knew better than to allow this fire to burn inside him. Emotions were a weakness he couldn’t afford. Did the man even know how much he provoked the sorcerer with his cold disdain? Shang Tsung had no idea. He heard a lot of stories about Lin Kuei; even in the backwater hole from which he crawled out everyone heard the terrifying tales of Fire Lord’s secret army. Of the ice demons stealthier than shadows and more deadly than night itself and for a long time Shang Tsung did not think of them as living beings from this world.

Still… Sub-Zero was mortal, wasn’t he? A special one no doubt, with control over ice yet he could bleed too. Shang Tsung wondered for a moment what he could find under the fine, cold skin if he ever had a chance to look for the answer. An ice demon, human or hybrid of both?

“But we are still allies, aren’t we?” he asked, still polite and careful, yet walking up to the other man with his typical swagger. Not close enough to be in arm reach, but close enough to show he wasn’t that easily intimidated. 

The great military hero of Edenia always looked down on his movements; how he fought, how he gesticulated, how he walked. No self-respecting soldier would walk like some pleased prostitute after a well-paid job, the General said not once nor twice and all Shang Tsung could do then was to smile the brightest smile and thank him, like his disdain was the best praise he heard that day. The only thing they really have in common, beside the desire to take down Sindel’s regime, was being self-made men for both worked hard to be who they were. Yet General came from an old, aristocratic family with even older military tradition and everything that did not fit his narrow-minded idea of the world was treated with hostility and contempt. 

Shang Tsung’s skinny body, swagger, shrewdness, curiosity and wordiness unsurprisingly annoyed the great warrior and to say he took no pleasure in that fact would be a blatant lie. Even if it was childish and unproductive pleasure, it amused him to know how little effort he needed to test the patience of such a stern and manly man. 

Sub-Zero reminded him a lot of Shao and he suspected it was the soldier thing; the body built for fight and hardship, no-nonse attitude and the way both men moved - with deadly precision and confidence only a person that in fact killed an enemy in battle could muster. Even the way they spoke sounded similar, a barked command that everyone around instinctively wanted to obey, either out of respect or fear.

For that similarity alone, Shang Tsung expected the Lin Kuei Grandmaster to snarl at him some nasty remark about how his Titan self betrayed them all and thus how little he himself was worth of anyone’s trust. Anything to put the sorcerer down even a bit, to remind him what a failure he was.

“That is yet to be seen” was all the Grandmaster said, finally glancing from the book to Shang Tsung. 

It was hard to read anything from the man’s face, as half of it was hidden behind that damned Lin Kuei mask. All he could do was to rely on the move of a brew and the incantation of voice, each syllable, a moment of pause. It was a hard task, as the man showed no emotions and spoke so little so far. But the sorcerer knew there was anger, always lurking in each word spoken by Sub-Zero, but also… an excitement at finally being free of Liu Kang’s control. As Damashi foretold.

Shang Tsung couldn’t help but to think there was something much deeper about Damashi's interest in breaking Lin Kuei from Fire Lord than he ever suspected before. Back then the choice sounded logical - every action that would deprive Liu Kang of the advantage was worth taking so he did not question his benefactor. How could he, really? Now though? The truth burned him to the core and he learned the hard way that each of Damashi’s words had a hidden meaning, each action served a different goal than was promised; the victory he was in fact never part of. Yet… even the deepest shade of lie had a grain of truth. He knew that one well, for he lied all his life.

His Titan self for some reason wanted not so much the Lin Kuei itself as the Sub-Zero specifically on his side. Maybe more than Titan Shang Tsung even wanted his own younger self, corrupted by Liu Kang. 

The mere thought made him want to curse all gods alike. There was no difference for him between Liu Kang and his Titan-self, as both played him like some pawn, not even an important figure. Just pawn, to hold away from power, to sacrifice it when times would come. 

But there was more to it than just jealous anger and the never ending feeling of never being good enough. If Sub-Zero meant so much, if not in the grand scheme of things itself then just for personal satisfaction of Titan, then maybe he could be important to Shang Tsung’s own plans. Allies were hard to come by and these days he could use some, well, not protection really, he was done with living under someone else's wing but he wouldn’t say no to some partnership or at least casual support. The little favor here and there where things were still thick and troublesome to deal on your own. After all, freedom always came at some cost. 

Maybe Sub-Zero came to the same conclusion and his unexpected visit was just a reconnaissance. They were more alike than one would think, as similar desires drove them into this madness of Titans. To prove their own might and skills to all those that looked down on them their whole life. But above everything else, to be free and powerful enough to keep that freedom.

To his own surprise, Shang Tsung took comfort in that thought.

If they were meant to stay allies - or as close two stubborn outcasts with grudge against gods could rely on each other, some sacrifices were to be made. Shang Tsung did something he rarely did - he dropped the false politeness under which he hid himself for years.

“How did you find me?” he asked Sub-Zero directly, raising his chin challengingly. He was not afraid of Lin Kuei, just curious.

“You are not as careful as you think you are” Bi-Han answered with no less challenging stare, yet the flick of an amusement in his eyes was unmistakable. Shang Tsung knew the man was smirking under that damned mask and that thought alone made him puff in anger. 

The brown eyes shone even more.

Sub-Zero moved from his place, slowly walking from one bookshelf to another. His fingers traced books, never stopping at any particular volume, but always touching the book spines, like there was something interesting in their textures. The man did not pay attention to Shang Tsung and not really to books either. He was studying the room itself. The sorcerer couldn’t place why it bothered him so much but he knew better than to allow Sub-Zero to learn even the most trivial things about himself or his fortress. 

Damashi warned him against that the first day when she spoke about Lin Kuei. They are thieves, the mysterious being said, all grace and patience and praise for the unwanted Shang Tsung who drank in her words like the wisdom of gods, who will steal your fortune, life and secrets. Always be on your guard around them, especially around the one named Sub-Zero. If only he was smarter back then, less in need to please his generous benefactor, maybe he could hear in her sweet voice the longing for something, someone, that was not anymore. For the old partnership that was broken and defiled by Liu Kang’s peaceful vision of the world. But he was a fool who thought her yearning was for him alone. 

Shang Tsung was done with being played like a fool.

“Who told you about my island?” he demanded, voice still quiet yet no less burning with an old anger. He would get his answers, whatever kindly or by force.

A long sigh escaped Sub-Zero’s lips and frankly it took him out by surprise. Shang Tsung - or rather his Titan self -  knew the man was running on frustration for years, but that sounded as a whole new level of annoyance.

“I heard about it from Havik, who heard that from Rain, who heard that from Reiko, who heard that from Shao, who heard about it from Quan Chi. But the whole Sun Do is full of similar gossip.”

For a moment none of them spoke. Shang Tsung stared at Sub-Zero’s impassive, half-hidden face that still somehow emanated his disgust at their maybe-allies-maybe-not-but-definitely-idiots who apparently couldn’t keep a secret to save their own life. The feeling was mutual, because this was the reason why the sorcerer hated working with others. No one apparently could keep their mouth shut down if you didn’t help make that permanently. 

He closed eyes and rubbed his forehead, like that could ward off all the bad thoughts assaulting his mind right now.  His fingers were cold, too cold for his liking, unpleasantly stiff and numb. He did not like how the mere presence of a cryomancer affected his body, how it made him shiver and weak. He was an Edenian for fuck’s sake, and Edenia did not even know what winter cold was. He did not know that himself, until Damashi led him to a snow-covered fortress and he almost freezed there the first night. 

It took him a moment to realize something bad was happening. He couldn’t focus, all his senses dulled, body so clumsy and weak. As if his energy suddenly dropped to zero and fatigue was taking over. A flash of panic crossed his mind, but he was too tired, too cold to even be afraid for his life.

He had no idea how long he remained in the grip of this piercing soul frost. A few seconds? Days? He couldn’t even say. What mattered was that once the control of his senses came back, he was still alive and Sub-Zero gone.

And the fact the bastard stole a few of his precious scrolls and books.

***

The books showed up on his desk a few days later. There was no thank you or sorry about that note, not even the fuck you, loser. Shang Tsung both admired the man's boldness and hated him for it. Still he appreciated the books were returned in a good condition, as there was not a single scratch on any of them, not even a new page crease. He had no idea if that was some sort of weird Lin Kuei’s way to test him, disrespect or Sub-Zero took the books simply because he wanted to read them but he was a bastard with no sense of social politeness to just ask as any normal human being would. Damashi mentioned cryomancers were naturally difficult like that.

Shang Tsung had better things to do than to wonder what the check was wrong with Sub-Zero yet he was too curious for his own sake. Sadly, the titles alone did not say anything useful on the matter and even though he read each book just in case, there was hardly anything worth the time it took to finish them. No grand secrets revealed, no magic or military knowledge, not even historical value. Just some technical nonsense that bore him to death and if Sub-Zero was into stuff like that then no wonder the man lacked any social grace. 

The Grandmaster of Lin Kuei so far did not try to kill him and returned the books so Shang Tsung decided to give him the benefit of doubt and so he did not cross out the man from the list of potential allies. It did not stop him however from improving the traps just in case the man decided to return solely to steal again.

***

The scrolls showed up on his desk three days later. Their appearance actually worried Shang Tsung, not just because the trap again turned out to be useless. He was not worried even by the possibility Sub-Zero found some secret entrance he did not know about yet. No, what worried him was the fact he spent the whole morning in his chamber and walked out for like twenty minutes at best and when he returned, the scrolls WERE. THERE. 

That actually unnerved him much more than he wanted to admit. 

The scrolls turned out to be written in a language Shang Tsung did not even know and the implication that Lin Kuei could read it only added to the feeling of cold unease. There was however a note left on the scrolls; a small paper with only Royal Army searching the coast written in Shang Tsung’s own language. 

He was not afraid of empress Mileena’s army but he did appreciate the warning. Of course, the warning could be a fraud, a means to build trust only to betray him. The common sense advised caution yet there was a weird sense of peace within Shang Tsung. A hope or hunch, he did not know, but deep in his heart he felt everything was alright.

All he could do for now was wait to see if Sub-Zero will lead the enemy to his fortress or not. So he waited.

(The fact that another book disappeared with Sub-Zero did not surprise him much. Irritated, yes, but not worried. For some reason he felt everything was like it should be, like some almost forgotten memory of past life came back to him and the sense of deja vu was weirdly comforting.)