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hookhausenschips · 2 months ago

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Shadows Over Monaco

Prologue of The Game of Seduction

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Summary: In the glittering world of Monaco, Y/N targets the enigmatic Lando Norris, blending charm and strategy to navigate a high-stakes mission. But as the night unfolds, the line between player and played begins to blur, and Y/N realizes she may be in deeper than she anticipated.

WC: 1.4k

Warnings: Violence, Crime, Manipulation, Dark Themes, Emotional Intensity, & Potential Power Imbalances

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• you DO NOT have my permission to copy my work, upload as your own, translate, or repost on any other website •

The blood-red sky over Monaco’s old city shimmered with fading light as the sun sank beneath the Mediterranean, casting long shadows over cobblestone streets. The dim glow of the setting sun seemed an apt metaphor for the fragile peace between the McLaren and Red Bull families—a peace that could shatter at the smallest provocation.

Inside the grand, fortified estate perched high above the city, Lando Norris, head of the McLaren mafia, leaned back in his leather chair. The room was dimly lit, the heavy velvet curtains blocking out the final rays of sunlight. A glass of Scotch sat untouched on the mahogany desk in front of him, its amber hues reflecting in the gleam of his sharp, calculating eyes.

Lando was young for his role—too young, some said. But those who underestimated him never made the mistake twice. His rise had been swift, his enemies ruthless, but none as ruthless as Lando when provoked. His dark brown hair, tousled in a way that seemed effortless, framed a face that could deceive with boyish charm or command with a cold, steely gaze.

“Any news?” Lando’s voice was smooth but carried an undercurrent of authority that left no room for dissent.

Oscar Piastri, Lando’s most trusted lieutenant, stood near the window, his sharp suit immaculate despite the late hour. “The Red Bull family has been quiet since the Marseille shipment,” Oscar said, his Australian accent clipped. “Too quiet, if you ask me.”

Lando’s lips quirked into a half-smile. “Christian Horner doesn’t do quiet. He does calculated. If he’s not making noise, it’s because he’s planning something.”

Christian Horner, patriarch of the Red Bull mafia, was known for his cunning strategies and his unrelenting ambition. The rivalry between their families was one written in blood, stretching back decades, and the uneasy truce brokered between them was nothing more than a temporary ceasefire.

Lando reached for the glass of Scotch, swirling the liquid absently. “What about Verstappen?”

Oscar stiffened at the mention of Max Verstappen, Christian’s right-hand man and enforcer. “Rumors say he’s consolidating their holdings in Vienna. But there’s talk of a new operation, something under the radar. We don’t have details yet.”

The silence that followed was heavy with unspoken tension. Lando’s jaw tightened. “We need eyes inside their operation. Someone who can feed us the details before it’s too late.”

Oscar hesitated. “Christian’s not careless. He’ll protect his inner circle.”

Lando’s gaze turned ice-cold. “Everyone has a weakness. Even Horner.”

Across the city, in the heart of the Red Bull family’s luxurious estate, Christian Horner stood in his grand office, the room dominated by floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the glittering city lights.

He was flanked by Max Verstappen, his ever-loyal enforcer, and Y/N, a new face in the Red Bull inner circle. Y/N stood tall, her sharp eyes locked on Christian as he outlined his latest plan.

“This is no ordinary mission,” Christian said, his voice smooth but commanding. He paced the room, the sharp click of his polished shoes echoing. “We need someone who can get close to Norris. Someone who can gain his trust, extract his secrets, and leave him vulnerable.”

Y/N tilted her head, her confidence unshaken by the intensity of Christian’s gaze. “You want me to seduce him.”

Christian smirked. “You’re quick. That’s why I chose you. Lando is dangerous, yes, but he’s also a man. And men have their weaknesses.”

Y/N folded her arms, her dark eyes flashing. “If I do this, I want assurances. When I succeed, I want out of this life.”

Max snorted from his place by the window, his posture relaxed but his tone laced with skepticism. “You think it’s that easy? You think you can just walk away from this world?”

Y/N’s gaze didn’t waver. “I think if I’m going to risk my life, I get to decide what happens when it’s over.”

Christian studied her for a long moment before nodding. “Fair enough. But don’t underestimate Norris. He’s more than he appears.”

Y/N’s lips curled into a confident smirk. “So am I.”

The plan was set. Y/N would infiltrate Lando’s world, using her charm and intelligence to break through his defenses. But as she left the Red Bull estate that night, her mind churned with doubts.

She had trained for years in manipulation, espionage, and combat, but Lando Norris was an enigma. He was known for his charm and charisma, but beneath that lay a man who had outmaneuvered some of the most dangerous players in the game.

Y/N glanced down at the dossier Christian had handed her, her fingers brushing over the photo of Lando clipped to the top corner. His piercing gaze seemed to follow her, a silent reminder of the challenge ahead.

“Game on,” she murmured to herself, steeling her resolve.

What she didn’t know was that this game of seduction and deceit would soon spiral into something far more dangerous than she had ever anticipated.

The stage was set. The players were in place. And the seduction game was about to begin.

The Red Bull estate was a world of opulence layered over menace. Its sprawling marble halls gleamed under crystal chandeliers, a façade of elegance that belied the ruthless decisions made within. Y/N strode through one of its gilded corridors, heels clicking softly on the polished floor, the dossier on Lando Norris clutched tightly in her hand.

Her tailored black blazer fit snugly across her shoulders, paired with cigarette trousers and a crisp white blouse—professional, commanding, but with just enough edge to hint at the fire beneath. Her dark hair was swept into a sleek bun, revealing sharp cheekbones and eyes that seemed to see everything.

She entered the training room, a stark contrast to the rest of the estate. This space was raw and industrial, the scent of sweat and metal lingering in the air. Christian Horner stood in the corner, leaning casually against a table covered in weapons, tech gadgets, and surveillance photos.

“You’re late,” he said without looking up, flipping through a set of blueprints.

“I had to pack for Monaco,” Y/N replied coolly, setting the dossier down on the table. “What’s the plan?”

Christian gestured to a nearby chair. “Sit. We’ve got a lot to cover.”

Y/N slid into the chair, crossing her legs as Christian began to speak. His tone was sharp, precise, every word carrying the weight of their precarious mission.

“Lando Norris isn’t like the others you’ve dealt with,” he began, spreading out the documents in front of her. “He’s smart, unpredictable. He grew up in this life—he didn’t inherit power, he took it. And that makes him dangerous.”

Y/N studied the photos spread across the table: Lando at various events, flanked by his lieutenants; Lando at the wheel of a sleek black sports car; Lando seated in a darkened club, his face half-shadowed, a predatory smirk playing on his lips.

“What’s his weakness?” she asked, her voice steady.

Christian paused, leaning back in his chair. “If he has one, it’s his ego. He doesn’t trust easily, but he loves a challenge. If you can present yourself as someone intriguing, someone who isn’t intimidated by him, you might get close enough to earn his trust.”

Y/N leaned forward, her brow furrowed. “And then?”

“Then you’ll extract everything you can,” Christian said, his tone cold. “Names, locations, operations. Once we have what we need, we’ll move in to dismantle his empire.”

Y/N nodded, though a flicker of doubt passed through her. “And if I fail?”

Christian’s expression darkened. “Then don’t fail.”

•Later That Day•

The sparring ring in the estate’s gymnasium was dimly lit, the only sound the rhythmic thud of Y/N’s fists against the heavy bag. Her movements were precise, her muscles coiled and ready, each punch carrying the force of her determination.

But beneath her focus, her thoughts churned.

She’d spent years working for the Red Bull family, earning a reputation as one of their most capable operatives. She’d taken on dangerous assignments, infiltrated rival groups, and emerged unscathed. But this mission felt different.

It wasn’t just the danger—though Lando Norris was undoubtedly dangerous. It was the intimacy of the task, the requirement to weave herself into his life, his trust. Seduction wasn’t just about appearances; it was about vulnerability, about revealing just enough of herself to make him believe the lies.

And Y/N hated vulnerability.

“Your form’s sloppy,” a voice interrupted her thoughts.

Y/N turned to see Max Verstappen leaning against the wall, arms crossed, his sharp blue eyes scrutinizing her every move.

“Care to step in and demonstrate, Max?” she shot back, smirking.

Max grinned, pushing off the wall and stepping into the ring. “I don’t need to. You’ve got this, don’t you?”

Their sparring was quick and brutal, each movement a test of skill and control. Max was relentless, but Y/N matched him blow for blow, her determination shining through.

As the session ended, Y/N wiped the sweat from her brow, breathing heavily.

“Do you really think this is going to work?” she asked, her voice quieter now.

Max shrugged, his expression unreadable. “It doesn’t matter what I think. It’s what Christian thinks. And you’re the best shot we’ve got.”

Y/N nodded, though her doubts remained.

•Nightfall•

In her room, Y/N sat at her desk, the dossier on Lando spread out before her. The flickering candlelight cast shadows across her features as she read through the pages, absorbing every detail of his life.

His rise to power was brutal: the calculated takedowns of rivals, the strategic alliances, the moments of ruthless efficiency that had cemented his place at the top. But there were hints of something deeper—a man who had suffered loss, who had built walls around himself to survive.

She stared at his photo, her finger tracing the sharp line of his jaw.

“What happened to you, Lando Norris?” she whispered to herself.

Her fingers brushed against the delicate chain of a necklace around her neck, a small, hidden reminder of why she’d agreed to this mission in the first place. Beneath her confident exterior, there was a vulnerability she rarely let anyone see—a past that still haunted her, a future she was desperate to claim.

For Y/N, this mission wasn’t just about loyalty to the Red Bull family. It was about survival, about finding a way out of the darkness that had consumed her life.

And if Lando Norris was the key to that escape, then so be it.

•The Final Briefing•

The next morning, Y/N stood in Christian’s office, her outfit immaculate: a sleek black dress that hugged her figure, paired with a pair of red-soled stilettos. She exuded confidence, every detail calculated to perfection.

Christian handed her a small earpiece, his expression stern. “This will keep you connected to us. Use it sparingly—Lando isn’t stupid. He’ll notice if you’re distracted.”

Y/N nodded, slipping the earpiece into her pocket.

“And remember,” Christian added, his tone sharp. “This isn’t just about seduction. It’s about control. Don’t let him turn the tables on you.”

Y/N smirked, her confidence returning. “Don’t worry, Christian. I’ve got this.”

But as she left the estate and stepped into the waiting car, her mind was a storm of emotions. The game was about to begin, and she knew the stakes couldn’t be higher.

Her mission was clear. But as the city lights blurred past her window, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this game would test her in ways she wasn’t prepared for.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

LN4 Taglist: @esserenorris, @tallrock35, @yourbane, @lightdragonrayne, @really-fucking-tired, @evie-119, @ilivbullyingjeongin, @ggaslyp1, @icecoldtires, @cmleitora, @cheyennep3107, @d3kstar

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wing-ed-thing · 2 years ago

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Tandem (Levi x Reader)

Synopsis: The two of you work together seamlessly. Your clear intimacy was usually left unspoken... that is, until Eren asks the stupid question.

Word Count: 2.8k

Tags/Warnings: Language, Fluff, No Reader Pronouns

Notes: I think it’s funny that my last Levi fic was about Levi and reader like... hating each other hahaha. I guess I simply must bring balance

“Do you have the—”

“Right here.”

Watching the two of you in action was fascinating.

Levi tossed you a canister from over his shoulder. The metal container flipped through the air, nearly smacking Eren directly in the face. He ducked just in time. The canister landed perfectly into your outstretched hand. You didn’t even look up from the crate of supplies you were tending to. Eren sputtered.

“Hey, watch it! You almost hit me!”

“Don’t be in the way.” You spoke the command in unison. Neither you nor Levi missed a beat. Eren caught a mutual eye roll as you and Levi continued to organize the new cargo shipment.

You secured a thick wooden lid onto your crate and made a tick on your clipboard. You maneuvered out of the way just in time for Levi to heave over an equally massive wooden box. He stacked it on top of yours.

“Tell me that’s all of it,” Levi grumbled, placing a familiar touch on your shoulder as he peered over your amassment of papers. You flipped the pages with a solemn shake of your head.

“Between what we brought back from the expedition and the disaster that was this last shipment, I’d say we’re done with barely half.”

“Fucking hell…”

Immediately after expeditions, your leftover supplies would be checked and consolidated into storage to prepare for the next outing and regular patrols. That had always been an undertaking and typically took the whole night. But when you were away, a new shipment of supplies had come early. A disorganized mess of various crates and trunks, Commander Erwin nearly hit the roof before he stormed over to the supplier’s office to complain.

The company had apparently shifted management, and the new owner thought he could cut corners. At least, that’s what you guessed.

Levi slowly turned to Eren as you made a few frustrated scribbles in your notes. The crease in his brow deepened, and a vein above his eye twitched.

“What are you doing just standing around, Jaeger?” Levi stepped forward, gesturing to the chaos of stacked and scattered materials across the room. “You think these big-ass boxes will grow legs and walk to storage by themselves?”

“Section Commander Zacharius sent us in here to help. He’s finishing up outside.” A bead of sweat formed on Eren’s temple. Levi stared wordlessly, scowling. “Sir!”

“You can help Jean,” you said, glancing up from your attempt at an organization sheet. You gestured over to where Jean knelt by a mountain of wooden crates. Heavy pouches and metal parts poured out of the sprawling containers. “He’ll need all the help he can get separating the flour sacks from the deconstructed ODM gear.”

Jean met Eren’s eye, exhausted and annoyed at the prospect of working with Eren on top of his menial task. Mikasa carried three boxes stacked on top of each other somewhere in the background.

The entire regiment worked into the night. Empty crates were slapped with proper labels, refilled with the correct material, and sent to storage. The rate at which you and Levi put together a plan was astounding, and you quickly ordered your exhausted soldiers around in teams to get the job done.

Jean and Eren worked to separate the flour sacks from the gear, moving gingerly to avoid crushing anything. Some bags were broken. Eren blew white particles off of a grip and onto Jean’s slacks. Jean scowled but was too tired to complain. The two of them took to sorting out the pieces of gear quietly, Jean placing the parts in their respective bins as Eren sifted through the mess of metal and wires. He was left with a small box of screws at the end of his work.

“Um, do we have a box for screws?”

“Screws?” Jean repeated, glancing over the closed crates. “No?”

Eren shrugged and put them in his pocket.

You and Levi continued to work seamlessly together, racing throughout the room and ensuring everything was sorted. You passed your clipboard back and forth as you elapsed each other. Eren could hardly see the handoff. He chased after you after he closed the last crate of flour.

“Section Commander!” you turned with a stack of random materials in your arms. The soldiers from your squads gathered around you, deliberating with each other over the orientation of the storage. “Jean and I finished. Where else can I be of assistance?” You handed your supplies to one of your team leaders, giving instructions before returning to Eren.

“Captain Levi has the list,” you said, moving another set of boxes down to the floor. Your team took to opening them. You looked down and groaned at the sight, running a hand over your face. Inside, the supplier had packaged together explosives and yeast. “What a mess.”

Eren ran off to find Levi, who stood in the courtyard supervising the organization of horse feed. Levi gave two firm slaps to a neat assembly of boxes as he addressed a group of six. The compilation had been mislabeled as “bread grains.”

“You’ll take these to the stables. You hear me? The stables. If I see a lick of this shit in the kitchen, you’ll eat horse food for the rest of your life.” Eren approached him cautiously, offering him a salute.

“Sir! How can I be of assistance?” Levi huffed, blowing a tuff of his bangs away from his forehead.

“I just gave the list back. Go ask the Section Commander.”

“Uh…” Eren croaked, having just spoken to you. “Well, I just spoke to—”

“Eren!” Armin appeared in the doorway out to the courtyard with a wave. The torchlight made his blond hair shine even more golden. “We need your help with the swords!”

“There you go,” Levi snorted, gesturing down the hall where Armin disappeared. He bumped Eren’s shoulder as he passed.

Luckily, things were beginning to wrap up by the time Eren nearly dropped from exhaustion. After the swords came lentils mixed with the smoke-gun pellets and then the tangled ODM wires. You and Levi were powering on at the same pace you had been for the night— perhaps even more rigorously— but Eren could see the burnout on your faces. A rule of thumb whispered among the cadets dictated that the two of you appeared visibly grumpier with tiredness, not that anyone would dare tell you that.

Levi maneuvered around you, snatching something you offered wordlessly in your hand. He sent off the last of the cargo boxes with a small team of drained recruits, and as he turned to you, he didn’t have to say a thing before you tossed the clipboard to him. He caught it like a frisbee.

“That’ll do it,” you announced. Your voice echoed off the stone walls of the now-empty room. “Thank you, everyone, for your hard work. I’m sure you’re very tired. Dismissed!”

Eren breathed a sigh of relief as you marched out of the room. He quickly took his leave, filing out with the rest of his friends as they trudged back to the barracks in exhaustion. No one said a word as they crossed through the courtyard, too drained from the expedition and the organization disaster to say anything.

Eren stuck his hand in his pocket, stopping short when he felt the small box of screws he had put in there earlier. Armin shot him a worried look as he started back toward the packaging room, too fatigued to ask where he was going. Eren said nothing, jogging back so he could return as quickly as possible.

You and Levi sat on the stone floor, back to back, as he read over the materials list. Your head tilted back to rest on his shoulder. He did the same, his short hairs brushing against your cheek. Two cups of tea sat on the floor next to you. That must be where you went when you dismissed everyone.

“The twenty units of ODM wire—”

“Southwestern storage with the grips,” you yawned. You closed your eyes, letting yourself slouch back into Levi. He said nothing as you nuzzled into the shoulder of his jacket.

“Updated uniforms and linens—”

“Forth floor. They need to be organized, but they can be distributed soon.”

“Great. Like we haven’t had enough of that tonight.”

Eren stood frozen in the entryway. He clutched the box of screws in his hand, stepping off to the side to avoid being seen. Something inside told him that he shouldn’t be there, that the scene in front of him was too intimate for his prying eyes. He watched on anyways, wondering if he should just wait until tomorrow.

You finished your tea, placing it on the ground with a disappointed hum. You reached for Levi’s and took it in the pads of your fingers. Levi brushed his cheek against your hair and tilted his face to look at you. He didn’t get very far with your head in the way.

“Excuse you,” he frowned. “You have your own.”

“Finished mine,” you muttered, half asleep. Levi shook his head before returning to read the rest of the list. He flipped a page.

At that display, Eren decided that he could definitely wait until the next day. Stealthily, he returned to the little, lit hallway to take his leave.

That was until the little box of screws clattered to the floor. The sound reverberated off the stone, causing both you and Levi to turn to the noise. You sat up straight with eyes snapped open with alertness. Eren cringed, picking up the box, and with no choice, he revealed himself.

“The hell are you doing up?” Levi snapped with a deep scowl. “You were just dismissed. Or do you want more work?” Eren almost flinched.

“I forgot about this.” He held up the forgotten cargo, giving it a rattle. You yawned again, a strangled noise of affirmation escaping you.

“Oh, thank you, Jaeger. You can leave that with me.” Eren scampered across the room to your outstretched hand. It dropped with the weight of the tiny container. With a simple thanks, you once again sent him on his way.

***

“Do you think the Section Commanders are, you know, together?” Eren asked in a hushed tone at the dinner table the next day. Armin’s forehead wrinkled in thought.

“Which ones?”

“Yours and Captain Levi.” Eren played absentmindedly with the leftover stew on his plate. The entire table seemed to stiffen. A few nervous eyes glanced around the mess hall for any leadership within the radius to overhear. Eren hardly noticed the way the former members of the 104th seemed to lean forward.

“I think they’re all together,” Reiner finally spoke, eyes darting around the room again.

“What? You mean like all at once?” Bertholdt laughed nervously, swiveling his head as he spoke. He rubbed at the back of his neck with his large palm.

“Yeah!” Reiner exclaimed in a hushed tone. The table leaned closer. He gestured emphatically with his hands. “I mean, you’re in this line of work. Everyone’s ripped and sexy—”

Connie let out a roaring cackle.

“You did not just refer to Captain Levi as ripped and sexy!”

Reiner sputtered as cheeky grins and bouts of laughter spread across the group. Reiner clutched the edge of the table as his pale skin turned a bright shade of red.

“You know that’s not what I meant!” he stammered, just about standing up to slam his hand on the table, causing various utensils to clatter. The noise was not too out of the ordinary for the cafeteria. “That’s not what I meant! I meant my squad leader!” Connie propped an elbow on the table, counting his fingers to accent his words.

“Section Commander Levi: ripped and sexy. Section Commander Miche: ripped and sexy. Section Commander Hange—” Reiner slapped Connie’s hand from across the table, causing Connie to just about go into hysterics. He collapsed into Sasha’s shoulder. Bertholdt tugged the back of Reiner’s shirt, urging him to sit back down.

“That is the opposite of what I meant!”

“You said everyone, Reiner!” Connie had nearly burst into tears. He heaved between labored breaths. “What— what if they…! What if they made— Hahaha! A calendar?! What if they made one of those sexy calendars?!” His deranged delirium was contagious, the taboo notion enough to make Mikasa cover her face with a shake of her head. She continued small bites of her food.

“Shirtless Levi calendar just for you, Reiner.” He stood at a loss as Jean reached up to knock against his bicep. Reiner sat down in defeat, hands rubbing over his face as Bertholdt gave him a heavy-handed pat.

“What made you ask, Eren?” Christa’s gentle voice somehow made it down to the other side of the table. He craned to be able to see her before looking off, wondering if he should say anything. He didn’t think for long, if at all.

“I walked in on them last night—” An eruption of astonished gasps and cries cut him off—a jumbled chorus of sounds molded over each other.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait a minute!”

Sasha’s voice carried over everyone else’s.

“Levi and Reiner?!” She exclaimed. Reiner somehow grew redder.

“Of course not!”

“No, he means our captain and Levi, right Eren?” Armin clarified, and Eren nodded.

“When you say walked in on them—” Jean glanced around the room, eyes widening with emphasis. “Did you mean walked in on?”

“No, no,” Eren stuttered, running a hand through his scalp as he thought of describing what he saw. “I’d say they were more cuddling.”

“Cuddling,” Reiner repeated with a single downward nod. He crossed his arms over his chest as he squared his shoulders back. “You walked in on the squad leaders… cuddling.”

“Well, they weren’t really cuddling. They were sitting back-to-back against each other more… nuzzling. And sharing a cup of tea.” Eren trailed off, face contorted in a pained expression as he continued to play with his hair. Armin nudged him under the table, barely picking up his head to offer him the contrite look painted on his expression.

“Eren…”

“I think it’s kinda romantic!” Christa brushed a few hairs behind her ear. “Two soldiers fighting for their lives with no one to lean on but each other! I could see them together. Maybe Captain Levi would loosen up a bit if he was dating.” Ymir grumbled something incoherent.

“I think we’ve all been in a room where Captain Levi’s shared a cup of tea with all the leadership.” Reiner glanced around the table, unimpressed. “Is that supposed to be a euphemism or something?”

“It was the same cup!”

“Things sure are lively over here.” Everyone froze. “What are we talking about?”

You placed a warm hand on his shoulder. Eren’s eyes followed the length of your sleeve to your smiling face. You glanced over the group, slightly taken aback at the sudden silence. Levi came up to Eren’s left with crossed arms.

“We heard from everyone coming the other way that you couldn’t shut up, and now you decide to be quiet?” Connie met Reiner’s eye from across the table.

“The calendar,” he mouthed, and Reiner resisted the urge to throw a spoon at him.

“We were just talking about Sasha’s dating life!” Eren exclaimed, much to Sasha’s horror. You beamed.

“Oh, how fun!” Levi rolled his eyes, maneuvering around you.

“I’m grabbing food. You want the usual?” He leaned in slightly, a gentle touch on your back. The table watched with bated breath. You smiled and nodded.

“Yes, please!” With your confirmation, he left. You turned back to the table, your hand still on the back of Eren’s chair. “Dating! That’s so exciting! You have to tell me!” The group exchanged looks. Normally, they would tell you. That is if there was anything to tell.

“Are you dating, Section Commander?” Sasha quirked an eyebrow, hoping to turn the heat onto someone else.

“Oh, uh—” You stuttered, thrown off at the sudden question. You could feel the heat of their intense stares. —“No, not really.” You let out a nervous laugh. Surely you were missing something. You missed the silent eye contact Eren made with Armin.

“Not really?” Eren repeated, twisting his mug in his hands as he stared at his water. Reiner studied him, wondering that perhaps Eren had been onto something after all. Mikasa kicked Eren under the table. He flinched, composing himself just before Levi returned with your food.

“You guys are sure acting strange tonight.” Bertholdt refused to look you in the eye. You let out another nervous chuckle before taking your plate from Levi with thanks.

“They ran out of the rolls, but I got you the—”

“The baguette?” Your face lit up at the sight of the tiny baguette on the corner of your plate. You faced Levi with a grin. “Have I ever told you that you were the best?”

“Sure, sure.” He didn’t acknowledge the rest of the 104th as he stormed toward the exit. You offered them a wave goodbye.

“Sorry, we can’t stick around. I’ll see you all later! Good luck, Sasha!” With one last wave, you hurried after Levi and left together.

As soon as you were well down the hallway, the table erupted in debate.

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Notes: Ah, I love writing young Eren as the stupid little baby he is 🙏 Heavily channeling Bluey “do you have a wife?”

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman fanfic #levi ackerman #attack on titan fanfic #attack on titan x reader #levi ackerman reader insert #levi #levi fanfic #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #shingeki no kyoujin #x you #x reader #reader insert

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lionofchaeronea · 2 years ago

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Tetradrachm minted 364-363 BCE by the city of Amphipolis, at the mouth of the River Strymon in Thrace. On the obverse, the head of Apollo, wearing a laurel crown; on the reverse, a race torch surrounded by a square bearing the inscription AMΦ-IΠO-ΛIT-EΩN (="of the people of Amphipolis").

Formerly an Athenian colony, Amphipolis was lost to Athens during the Peloponnesian War as a result of the Spartan general Brasidas' brilliant northern campaign; an attempt by the noted demagogue Cleon to recover it ended in his defeat and death (though Brasidas was killed as well). Thereafter the polis remained independent, enjoying great strategic importance for a number of reasons: the nearby forests supplied vital timber for shipbuilding; local silver mines offered vast wealth to whoever controlled them; and the city was in a prime location to facilitate--or interfere with--grain shipments to Athens from the Black Sea region. However, only a few years after this coin was minted, the expansionist Philip II of Macedon conquered Amphipolis and consolidated his hold over Thrace. Amphipolis would remain an important Macedonian stronghold until the kingdom's defeat by Rome in 168 BCE.

Photo credit: Classical Numismatic Group, Inc. http://www.cngcoins.com

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snackodev · 3 months ago

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QoL patch today includes a new Quest Log UI!

✨ Changes & Additions

Guild Boxes are now consolidated into just one in the Cultural Center. All Guild delivery quests can be completed using the same box

Journal now has Unclaimed Rewards always showing if you have any

Addition of "Claim All" button to get all your quest rewards at once

Addition of "Available" quests: quests that you can take from the quest board or are unlocked

📬 Other

Dyes crafting balancing

Reworded quest text to specify shipping container for shipment quests

"Counting Seeds" now unlocked by "Shipping Off" instead of "Intro to Farming"; now, if you accidentally grow your Onion Seeds to maturity, you can wait to buy them from a grocer instead of softlocking progress

#snacko #indie game #cozy games #gamedev #game dev #farming sim #snackodev #indiegame #patch notes #ui ux design

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fiercynn · 1 year ago

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The situation is more terrifying than any previous day. People have been standing in long lines outside bakeries to get a small bag of bread for hours — six hours, seven hours, every day. But in the last few days, over ten bakeries have been targeted in the south, the so-called “safe zone” where the Israeli army told us to go. But it was a trap. They wanted to cram us into one place and start bombing us again. They’re targeting bakeries, and we don’t even hear reports of Hamas members among the dead. One of the bakeries targeted in Nuseirat refugee camp had just received a huge shipment of flour from UNRWA, which had agreed with the bakery to sell the bread from the flour at half-price for the camp residents. UNRWA had just finished unloading the shipment, which was meant to cover the needs of the entire Nuseirat area, when the bakery was bombed and completely destroyed. They aren’t only targeting people and homes. They’re letting in aid, and then they destroy it before it reaches the people who need it. It’s calculated and deliberate. It’s meant to exterminate the civilian population. [x]

this report is a consolidation of voice recordings sent by mondoweiss gaza correspondent tareq hajjaj on october 25, 2023

#free palestine #tareq hajjaj #mondoweiss

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illarian-rambling · 6 months ago

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Unity and Nace for the Illari ask game?

Unity - Describe a stroll down the street of the largest city in your world.

Well, doing Unity itself would feel cheap, however, I don't think I've ever done a written description of Sepo’s home, so let's take a little swim through the ocean's largest city: Seluthena!

Even in the depths of the ocean, there are stars. Or, something close to it anyways. Clouds of luminous algae swirl like seabound galaxies above this regimented matrix of a city.

Poking up into the glowing miasma are the ribs. Or, that's what people call them anyways. The titanic curved columns do indeed resemble the ribs of a felled giant. It calls to mind a whalefall, the sirens of Seluthena playing the roll of latecomer scavengers. Buildings rest where lungs might have once pumped air, or a stomach the size of an island formerly digested gallons swallowed whole. The siren architecture is curved, crowded, and coral-like. Homes and businesses lean and crawl over the top of one another. Much of the design would be oddly foreign to human eyes - built on a 3d plane as it is. The community would not be foreign, though it might be unexpected. Sirens - ship-killing, brainwashed zealots that they are - swim along chasms that take the place of sidewalks, off to a job they still feel underqualified for, delivering sweets to their friend, or escorting their children to a park. Sirens do have parks, you have to understand. Even ship-killing, brainwashed zealots are still people.

Above it all, haloed by the starry algae, is a spiraling horn of purest mother-of-pearl. You'd think it a palace, and you'd be right. Or, close enough anyways. This is the watching eye, the beating heart, the clenched fist - this is the Saryimastra Seat. It is as grand as you would ever imagine the home of a god. The reflected glow of the algae almost seems to shine from its sheer walls like the light of an anglerfish's lure.

Below it, cast into shadow even without light, is a ruin. This is the palace of the Silver Sovereign. Or, it was, anyways. It burnt many years ago on a night of white magnesium fire. There's just an ashen stain left now, but it's stubborn. The ground won't easily let such hatred be forgotten.

Whew, I got a little poetic with that one! The only other description of Seluthena I've done was during a dnd game, so I really ought to figure out how to work it into one of my written stories. I think I'm proud of this one :)

Nace - How does organized crime work here? Who is currently on top of the criminal underworld?

Illaros's criminal underworld divides pretty nicely into east and west, with the line being Iarl's western-most shore. On the east is the Veiled Fleet. They're pirates, but are known to be a fair sort so far as pirates go. They don't traffick in flesh and will generally not go out of their way to kill people aboard the ships they commandeer. They are led directly by one Veiled Queen. No one knows her identity due to a veil she wears, but given how long she's been in the game, most guess she's an elf. She started the Veiled Fleet and still manages its day to day affairs without the use of intermediaries.

In the west, you've got the Tunnel Wasps. This smuggling ring is far more brutal than their eastern counterparts. They traffick in anything under the sun, but specialize in magical items. They also rely on caravans as well, expanding their reach inland as they tighten their grip on the sea. Tunnel Wasp leadership is far less consolidated than the Veiled Fleet, with lesser captains able to make their own calls and business dealings, but ultimately, everything goes back to Undeta Idansib. She's the second leader of the Tunnel Wasps after her mother, Idan Hedalsib, founded the organization. Undeta is said to be a frighteningly pragmatic woman. Rumors abound concerning her mysterious magical enforcer. It's said a trip to Undeta's flagship will leave you with half the memories you came aboard with, and that any stolen shipment will dissolve into acid once placed in the hull of your ship, sinking you to the bottom of the sea.

There are smaller gangs too, but a lot of them are beholden to one of these two somewhere up the line. Really, Unity is the only place left with its own independent, home-grown organized crime. What luck for Detective Ivander.

And that's all I got! Thanks for the asks <3

#writing #writerscommunity #writblr #my ocs #writing ask game

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tobiasdrake · 1 year ago

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We've had a hell of a day and I want to go home. And pour one out for a dear friend.

His death is a heavy weight on all of our hearts. He will be sorely missed. By us. By the Master Detectives. By every booze retailer in town. Truly, Kanai Ward is lesser without him.

That doesn't sound like good guy talk. We've succeeded in bringing an end to the internal strife plaguing Amaterasu, and helped Makoto to consolidate his power into an unapproachable citadel of control.

...let's hope for the best! d(^_^d)

EVERYBODY DIED MAKOTO.

Our boss DIED.

The scientist we were supposed to question DIED.

Vivia LIVED and he's mad about it.

I'm glad you're happy but this was a complete shitshow on my end. Even if you wind up being a well-meaning saint I still kind of hate you for manipulating us into this.

Yomi manipulated Yakou into killing Huesca. Makoto manipulated Yuma into distracting Yomi. The entire Nocturnal Agency was the ball in a game of power between these two rich dipshits today.

I'm mad about it and I want to hit something, but I'm powerless in the face of the corporate machinations that have taken place here. All I can do is go home, cry about it, and pour my grief into a big pot of my arsenic and battery acid stew. T_T It was Chief's favorite.

Maybe YOUR FACE is just a rumor.

...

That comeback hits so much differently when delivered to a man never seen without a mask. At this time, Makoto's face is, in fact, a rumor. There exists no evidence of it being real.

So what I'm hearing is "Anywhere but the Restricted Area." Not the Restricted Area, where we're at now, but the Restricted Area Restricted Area. The one nobody ever goes to, not even Peacekeepers, but there are allegedly shipments of corpses being trucked in.

Where we will most likely find the secret secret lab, instead of this classified secret lab.

Of course, even trying to go there at all is fucking reckless. I don't know how we're going to sell that to Yak--

...

T_T

Makoto, that looks like a ring box. So help me, if the next words out of your mouth are "You can give this to Kurumi when you propose" then I'm going straight to prison in the cell next to Yomi.

Yomi: The hell are you in for? Yuma: Punched Makoto square in the dick.

I hope it's a bomb.

I mean. I do not. Hope it's a bomb. For obvious reasons. Because I do not want to open a bomb present.

But if it is a bomb, then at least we'll be able to brush away the ambiguity and know exactly where to stand on the Makoto subject. I would rather know that he's the enemy than continue to have to wonder.

Halara, Yakou's been stone dead for at least ten minutes. You can stop with the chest compressions. There isn't a medical technician in this world that can bring him back from what I-- uh, the deadly assassin Fink did to him.

In seriousness, I talk a lot about how much of a poser Halara is. That they are not an emotionless stoic mercenary but try very hard to give off the image of an emotionless stoic mercenary. The traumatized desperation visible in Halara's unceasing attempts to resuscitate a body that has to be cold by now speaks volumes to the character buried beneath their façade.

We'll go home and pour one out for him.

...does anyone else drink alcohol in this group? We may wind up pouring a lot out for him.

It's okay. We got to say our goodbyes. Don't ask what that means.

BESTIE NO. There's a very important moment of frozen time in recent events! If you make me have to do the Mystery Labyrinth and kill Yakou all over again, then so help me I will give you passive-aggressive silence for at least three days.

...

Come to think of it, Fubuki would be a perfect lifehack answer to the whole "Mystery Labyrinth reaps the soul of the victim" conundrum. We use the Labyrinth, find the deeply held secrets, and then grab her hand and skip back a few seconds over that frozen moment. Bob's your uncle, we know everything and no one had to die for it.

Fubuki can fix the central moral conundrum baked into the premise.

No, he's been through a lot. We spent hours undergoing an important emotional and philosophical journey five minutes ago. He's exhausted. I can't blame him.

This is, once again, the recurring theme. The Mystery Labyrinth reveals tons of information but doesn't help. Whoop-de-dee, we learned about Yomi's corruption in the most secret hidden truth the Labyrinth held. Didn't matter. Makoto already got that information another way and confronted Yomi without our involvement.

The effect is mitigated only because Yakou was already dying. But otherwise it'd be another reaping of a soul for no goddamn reason whatsoever. In chapters 1 and 2, we reaped souls that didn't deserve it. In 3 and 4, the killings we committed contributed nothing of value whatsoever to the predicaments we were in.

Going into the Mystery Labyrinth never does anything good. How could it? It's a murder weapon. That's all it can be. I've been saying non-stop about the Peacekeepers that they are an institution of violence that exists for the sole purpose of violence and cannot be anything but violence. The same is true of the Mystery Labyrinth.

It only exists to kill.

Oh good, Kurumi's here to offer half-informed advice about how it's super-virtuous that Yuma's killing people like this.

Okay Kurumi, I'm not gonna be too hostile 'cause I like you now. Let's hear what you've got.

Oh, no, that has nothing to do with us. Don't even try to blame yourself for that.

In fact, it's the biggest irony of the case. After all that fuss we made, running out the door and trusting that his lanky bones won't keep up with us, it barely even mattered. Yakou's plan for tonight's entertainment was to round everyone up and take them to the same place I snuck out to visit anyway.

In fact, if we hadn't roped Makoto into our shenanigans, everything would have played out the way Yomi planned it, and it would have ended with all of us being shot Halara putting a few more dead cops on my tab.

If you think about it that way, your questionable plan to go ask Makoto to his face if he's doing shady shit was the curve ball that saved the day, Kurumi. You should take a victory lap. You gambled it all on black and came away with a big score.

In a roundabout butterfly-effect chain-reaction sort of way, Kurumi Wendy took down Yomi Hellsmile. Don't fuck with high school girls, man. They're feral.

Do YOU have the answer to Photo Lady's identity!?

Kurumi, you are this close to getting Best Informant in Kanai Ward validation from me. That's not an accomplishment. You're the only informant in Kanai Ward. But still.

BOOM, Photo Lady. Figured it was something like that.

Unfortunately, Huesca was conspiring with Yomi, the head of the Peacekeepers. So. Obviously. The Peacekeepers weren't going to arrest Huesca over it, were they?

No, when you're in a pincer trap like that, there's only one outcome. She fell off a balcony onto some bullets. Accidental death.

Yakou is no different from the Theater Girls in chapter 2. Someone close to him was murdered in a city where justice is a farce. Abusers thrive and victims get fucked. Even murder's just part of the game that unchecked capitalism is playing on its people. What other recourse did he possibly have?

When murder gets rewarded and cries for justice are brutally punished, the only option left to you is to become a murderer.

It explains a lot about his behavior since we got here. Ever since the WDO burdened him with this huge investigation, Yakou's position has effectively been, "Guys, I'm begging you, PLEASE don't get me killed before I do."

I'm not onboard with the overarching message of "Conviction is more important than being right or wrong," which keeps getting brought up. I think a lot of people have done terrible things with absolute conviction in what they were doing. It's good to doubt yourself and question if you're making the right choices.

But as a character beat, I respect this for Yakou. I honestly think, like the Theater Girls, Yakou did nothing wrong. But I can believe that Yakou believed that what he was doing was immoral. That on some level, a part of him was like, "Dude, we're really going to go full murder-suicide?"

But he chose to follow his feelings and do what his gut wanted him to do, even if it's "bad". He was true to himself, to the very end. That's why he was able to face Shinigami's oblivion with a smile on his face.

In a roundabout way, I think Yakou came close to my own philosophy of morality. He just phrased it differently.

#master detective archives: rain code #drake plays rain code

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