#crystal's navi post

[1004tyun-archive]

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[moominpopzz]

@sa2-astral Some small little Water Fairy doodles!!

Your water fairy design is in fact the only one that’ll ever be canon to me so I hope you don’t mind the fact it’s… basically your design..

[silvertherogue715]

hello! How are you doing? Feeling any better since you caught that cold? This ask is gonna be about Sunstar mainly so I’m gonna split this up into different parts based on the questions. Knowing that Duo attacked and badly injured him I’m curious as to why? Was it cause of the bad emotions that he gave off and effected the other stardroids? Or just a chance encounter that didn’t go well? And does he just stay at one NEC or does he get the other one?

Emotions and relationship wise: Does the NEC still effect his emotions or are they more apparent then before because he only has one of the NEC he had originally? Does this change his behavior in anyway than what he was like originally? Especially his relationship with Terra and Minx(the last ask with his and Does he have any other relationships with the stardroids or know any Navis?

knowing that he’s the leader of the stardroids what does he do exactly?

with his ability being effected by emotions which sorts of emotions cause a increase in heat? Excitement, love, anger, etc. and just an angsty thought that came up has he ever out of instinct tried to grab someone out of panic or reflex and ended up burning them instead? (I assume he’s very careful but the concept of it happening to anyone(Minx, Terra, stardroid) is just a curiosity)

I hope you’re doing well! Have a good day/night! Thank you

I'm doing much better now, thank you! I don't get sick often, so I was a bit caught off-guard, but it also happened right before break when a bunch of assignments were nearing their deadlines. 

Hopefully I'll be able to dedicate way more time to shoveling out Brainrot AU stuff now.

This is a long one! I'll post my answers below the cut.

Why did Duo attack?

There’s a lot of lore for Duo in my AU, but I'm gonna try to simplify it here.

It’s canon in the MMBN anime that Duo began to see his creators and their civilization as evil, and that he eventually destroyed all life on Earth during that time before leaving on a rocket that mimics the appearance of a comet (which is powered by Negative Energy).

In my AU, he sees all NEC-Navis as inherently “evil.”

He uses this comet to approach sources of “evil,” and gives any intelligent life he comes across a “test” to determine whether or not they as a whole are evil and should be destroyed. This also means that Sunstar and the Stardroids are always on his radar. They have clashed several times.

Duo is the first and only Viren Navi with 5 GV-Crystals in his body, and Sunstar only absorbed the extra 3 NE crystals in his body to stand a chance against Duo when no other NE-Navi could. Unfortunately, he had no idea the consequences would be so dire, and was too far gone to stop by the time he realized.

Does he just stay at one NEC?

No. Sunstar is reduced to one NEC after Duo’s attack, but he does eventually regain up to 4 out of the 5 total.

The stardroids secure the two that go into his forearms before arriving to Earth.

Terra obtains the fourth, one of his original two that go in his chest, from Ra Moon after the Stardroids arrive on New Earth.

Minx finds the 5th later..but that’s not important right now =) 

Sunstar was never ”woken up” after the attack from Duo until Terra restored his other original NEC from Ra Moon inside his chest. All the Stardroids knew of the possible side effects from either losing or receiving damage to an Energy Crystal: there had been plenty of personal and historical references to use.

Had they activated him with one NEC, Sunstar would have been missing a huge chunk of his memories. In addition to this, he would have felt his emotions with an all-new intensity that he was unfamiliar with. Think of a usually calm and intimidating individual getting reduced to tears on a regular basis or verbally lashing out after an insult that wouldn’t have normally phased him. Positive side effects would be a temporarily clear mind and non-firey hands, but the downsides outweighed them tenfold. 

The change would definitely put a strain on his relationships. It’d be like having to learn about a person all over again.

What are his relationships?

Most Earth Navis Sunstar is familiar with he has met through/with Minx when he was still “Ra Moon.” He couldn’t/wouldn’t make many friends for several reasons, but some notable cases include:

Napalmman: Both love to talk about their respective netops (Nenji/Minx), and their shared love for explosions and anything fire-related. Friend!

Also occasionally talks with some coworker Navis Napalmman is friends with.

Sprout: Carson’s hilariously underwhelming but overpowered normalnavi. Carson is one of Minx’s older brothers, and due to plot reasons, Sprout is the only other Navi Ra Moon would see occasionally when Minx was a child.

Shadowman: Frenemies. He and Miyabi tried kidnapping him several times at one point, and Ra Moon loves to tease/annoy him whenever he gets the chance.

Shademan: Hate. Can and will fight on sight.

Forte/Bass: Sympathetic, but best to avoid. His relationship with Dr. Cossack (manga-based) is semi-mirrored by his relationship with Minx.

As for the other Stardroids…I hate to admit I have not thought of many specific interactions between Sunstar and all of them. This is the perfect opportunity to brainstorm though! Hmm..

Saturn would likely be chilly to Sunstar given his crush on Terra. Sunstar would probably dislike his poor work ethic and pull the occasional prank on him.   

Venus looks up to him, and while Sunstar finds her adorable, he regularly gives her physically harder tasks (like leading training sessions) to satiate her pride.

Sunstar is practically the only one who interacts with Mars–they both have a mutual understanding of the other, as each were deemed “monsters” by the Viren civilization. I wouldn’t describe them as friends, though.

Mercury annoys him to hell and back and Sunstar does his best to station Mercury as far away from himself as possible. 

Jupiter is one of the only Stardroids who will actively seek out Sunstar without going through Terra first. He has a deep respect for Sunstar’s strength, and finds him less intimidating due to his friendship with Uranus.

Uranus is terrified of Sunstar but plays it off with bravado by challenging him to fights. He has yet to win.

Sunstar likes Pluto and Jupiter maybe the most due to their sort-of friendship with Terra. Also, because Sunstar is absolutely a cat person.

I’ll need to think further on some of the other ones.

What does he do?

Sunstar was created to serve as a symbol of protection for Virens, but more importantly for NEC Navis. He shadowed Terra for three major things:

How to lead as a representative for NEC Navi’s

How to observe and deal with hostile rival alien civilizations that may pose a threat to specific Viren settlements 

How to prevent and manage NE-Navi-related disputes while striving for a positive social image

Admittedly, Sunstar shadowed Terra for a majority of his time after being created. He very rarely acted without first consulting or collaborating with Terra first. Terra had both more knowledge and experience than him, but he also commanded more trust and respect from the population and other Viren leaders/council members.

Before Duo mutinied against the Viren civilization on Earth, Sunstar wanted to implement at least two policies/practices:

Raising awareness of and liquidating misinformation surrounding the nature of Negative Energy Crystals and NE-Navis.

The removal of exclusively positive or negative energy crystals.

He had proof it was possible for a hybrid design.

Now, though?

His ship is stranded on Earth with Duo no doubt closing in. The civilization that he was responsible for previously before is dead. The only thing he can do is try to protect the life he has secured on New Earth with friends and family, new and old. 

--

After reawakening with 4 NECs, Sunstar proceeds to lose the 2 in his forearms during a battle on Earth soon after re-arriving. They get shattered in the heat of the battle, and a decent chunk of Arc 2 is spent hunting down the shards before Duo can arrive.

What emotions cause an increase in heat?

Emotions like anger, fear, sadness, or any combination of those that can leave him feeling overwhelmed. Again, Sunstar’s emotions are more muted than regular NE-Navis, given he has two NECs. That means whatever he’s feeling has to be pretty intense for it to affect him so deeply, but he is most prone to anger out of any other ‘provocative’ emotion. 

Also! He kind of hates how his hands can be a “tell” for him. He may have a stoic persona, but there’s only so much you can hide behind an empty stare, or later, a mask, without your furiously flaming hands giving you away.

Has he burned someone accidentally?

Grabbing and shaking you. I love your brain. He absolutely has.

It doesn’t happen often anymore, not like when he was first created, but my god does it devastate him when it does. He knows what happens when he touches things: they burn. He can’t help but ask himself, why does he still slip up? He knows his loved ones know it is never out of malice, that it’s an accident, that they forgive him, but he finds it hard to forgive himself. 

It’s safe to say Sunstar has accidentally burned nearly all of the Stardroids at least once. For specific people, though?

Uranus: weirdly enough he wants to fight Sunstar hand-to-hand. Close combat is his forte, and he wants to prove he’s strong enough to push through and kind of foe–or pain.

Mercury: he is absolutely enough of an annoying bastard for Sunstar to chase him down on several occasions until he either hands over whatever he has stolen from another Stardroid, apologizes to whoever he pissed off, or mans his station.

Terra: multiple times back on Viren Earth. A few scenarios:

Sunstar grabbing Terra by the shoulders to protect him from falling debris

Sunstar accidentally burned Terra when the latter passed him something by hand.

Without thinking, Sunstar tried holding Terra’s hand during a wholesome moment for both.

Minx: (so far) twice.

Minx tried holding his hand, thoughtlessly.

Sunstar grabbed and pulled Minx by the arm to prevent her from wandering into oncoming traffic at night.

He always apologizes profusely, but has a bad habit of isolating himself for hours and sometimes days afterwards.

He was apologizing for months afterwards.

[the-travelling-witch]

the temptation to just hit post on my unfinished theme and drafted pokemon au is unparalleled

[roses-and-revolutions]

DC x DP Prompt

To the delight of Gotham's citizens, and the dismay of her criminal underbelly, the GCPD has a new specialized unit that ACTUALLY apprehends criminals and brings them to justice!

It's a relatively small squad of mostly young adults, who looked fresh out of their teens. But age didn't matter once they got the work done. And they did, as they've already got criminals like Penguin, Riddler, and Bane behind bars for what looks to be 'for good'.

No one besides Commissioner Gordan knows anything about the squad as they operate as a mostly separate entity from GCPD. It was rare to see any of them, and any photos taken were unusually blurry. They are also extremely secretive; if you exclude their social media which are usually just shit posts, memes, and thirst edits of the Wayne family.

They were a total mystery. Almost as mysterious as Batman.

But those who have seen/worked with the squad before all had the same thing to say about them. They were cool. They had an unusually effective method. And their leader is a menace. With his sharp teeth and pointed smile. And bright blue eyes that spoke to your soul. It was a pleasure to see/ work with him, it really was. But they weren't planning on doing so again for a long time.

That being said, Gotham had been quiet for a while. A bit too quiet if you ask anyone, especially the Bats. Strangely, it didn't feel like the usual calm before the shit storm. The instinctual pit in their guts that usually formed just wasn't there. This was different. This wasn't the calm before the storm. This was the ocean receding. But no one seemed to realize it yet.

Not until the tsunami came crashing down on them.

The GCPD special unit accounts that had been inactive for the last three months suddenly pinged to life. Everyone who followed them clicked the notification almost immediately. With this unnerving calm surrounding them, who the hell didn't want to see what batshit crazy statement they would make after three months of radio silence.

What they didn't expect, was to see a crystal-clear picture of justice finally being served.

The picture was a selfie, taken in an abandoned warehouse. In the middle of the dirty floor was the Joker. He was tied up and his head hung low. You could see how beaten he was, his clothes torn and bloody. His face paint was also coming off, revealing pale blotchy skin. Reminding everyone that, he was still human, just like the rest of them.

Behind him, all lined up with smiles on their faces, was Team Phantom. They were a bit bloody and bruised as well but overall in much better condition. They weren't wearing the normal GCPD navy blue uniform, but black and white ones. All stylized to fit the wearers taste. They all looked so young, but their eyes looked like old tired eyes, finally getting some relief.

From in the corner was their leader. Only part of his face was in the picture. One glowing blue eye, and part of his Cheshire smile. His hand making a peace sign next to the Joker. Even with only part of his being shown, everyone could tell he was relived as well.

And while the picture itself was shocking, the caption was what really got them. The top was what you would usually expect from the team. A big bold 'GOT EM' ' at the top. But at the bottom in small, almost unnoticeable text was:

"He will face his punishment. We will get our retribution. May we finally rest in peace."

[ginxyy]

Becoming a family

(Ok kinda a long one. Legit just pure fluff. I would make this man a dad immediately if i could!)

The snow began to fall softly as I wrapped my scarf tighter around my neck, relishing the gentle bite of winter air on my cheeks. Seoul transformed overnight into a whimsical winter wonderland, a magical blanket of white covering the bustling streets and twinkling lights that draped the city like a fairytale. I glanced sideways at Mingyu, my heart fluttering at the sight of him. He was bundled up in a navy blue parka, his dark hair tousled in the wind, yet every now and then, a few strands managed to fall across his forehead, making him look all the more charming.

We had decided on this late-night walk not just to embrace the beauty of the first snowfall, but also because it felt like the last chapter of an unspoken story one that had begun weeks ago amidst stolen glances and tender, whispered conversations. As we strolled hand-in-hand through the quiet streets of Gangnam, illuminated by the soft glow of street lamps, I felt as if the world outside faded away, leaving just the two of us in our own bubble of happiness.

“Do you think this is too cliché?” Mingyu joked, his warm breath visible in the cold air as he turned to face me. His eyes sparkled like the stars scattered across the night sky, and I could feel myself blushing, a quiet smile playing on my lips.

“Maybe, but it’s our cliché,” I replied playfully, tightening my grip on his hand. “And I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

For a moment, we walked in comfortable silence, the sound of crunching snow beneath our feet accompanying the distant melodies of street performers welcoming the holiday season. With each step, I felt more alive, more at ease in his presence. Mixing the fresh, crisp air with the thrill of being with Mingyu, I had never felt so free.

The snowfall intensified, swirling around us like little shimmering dancers, and I couldn’t help but laugh as a few flakes landed on Mingyu’s nose. “Look!” I exclaimed, pointing the tiny ice crystals. “You have snow on your face!”

He mockingly pouted, wiping at the snow like a child, and I laughed even harder. The sound filled the air, punctuated by the occasional twinkle of distant bells, and I knew then that I never wanted this moment to end. Just as I was about to lean in for a quick kiss, the sound of excited chatter nearby jolted me back to reality.

A throng of fans had appeared out of nowhere, their delighted gasps filling the air, eyes wide with disbelief and joy. “Mingyu! Is that you?” one girl shouted, pointing at us.

Suddenly, we were at the center of attention. Mingyu paused, his brows furrowed as the realization of being spotted settled around us like a dark cloud. For a brief moment, I felt a spark of anxiety. Would the reality of us being seen change everything? But as I looked into his warm brown eyes, filled with the same mix of surprise and excitement, I couldn’t bring myself to feel afraid.

“Yes, it’s me!” he called out, his voice echoing with a charming zest that made my heart sing. There was something mesmerizing about how he embraced his fans, how he beamed with pride and love for them. It was what endeared him to so many, and it only deepened my feelings for him. I felt a serene joy knowing that even in our unexpected moment of vulnerability, Mingyu was still the same genuine person I had come to adore.

As the girls screamed and took pictures, I stood slightly behind him, feeling both nervous and exhilarated. I never expected to be part of his world, and now, suddenly, I was at the very center of it. Whispers cascaded around us, the energy electrifying. Scrolling through the social media site later, I’d find countless posts speculating about our relationship the seventeen heartthrob was officially off the market.

Mingyu turned back to me, brushing his thumb gently across my hand as the crowd began to disperse, realizing they may have interrupted a precious moment. “Are you okay?” he asked, concern lacing his voice.

I nodded, attempting to shake off the nervousness of the sudden press of attention. “Yeah, just a little overwhelming.”

“You know they’re gonna talk,” he said, a teasing smile tugging at his lips.

“I’m sure they’ll concoct some wild stories,” I retorted, grinning back.

That night, we walked longer than intended, navigating through beautifully lit parks and over quiet bridges until the world seemed to relax around us. We talked about everything and nothing our hopes, dreams, and silly little things we loved about each other. Despite the chaotic interruption, there was an undeniable connection that wrapped around us, stronger than the chill of the winter air.

When I returned home later that evening, my heart was still fluttering, dreamlike and impossibly buoyant. The glow of the lights around Seoul lingered in my mind, reminding me of our unforgettable walk. I drifted to sleep that night, imagining the happiness woven into our moments together.

Then everything changed. The next morning, something felt off. Dizziness washed over me as I prepared breakfast, and a deep-seated sense of anxiety settled in the pit of my stomach. I brushed it off as post-excitement jitters from my late outing with Mingyu, but something urged me to take a test.

As I stared at the small window revealing those stark two lines, everything came crashing down my heart raced, and for a brief moment, I felt time freeze. I was pregnant. Tears welled in my eyes, a mix of joy, fear, and confusion flooding my senses. How do I even begin to tell Mingyu something so monumental, so life-altering?

I could already envision how his eyes would light up with disbelief and then pure joy; he had always said that family mattered most to him. But everything felt so sudden, so unexpected.

The beautiful night we shared now felt like the beginning of an entirely new chapter. I knew there would be challenges ahead, but as I held that realization close to my heart, I couldn’t help but feel a surge of hope. This wasn’t just a romance that blossomed amidst secrets; it was a love story paving the way for an adventure, one I hoped Mingyu and I would navigate together.

That morning, I could barely hold my phone without my hands trembling, but I knew I had to tell Mingyu. My mind raced with a thousand ways to break the news, but none of them seemed right. How do you casually tell someone that their entire life is about to change? That our lives were about to change forever.

I decided to keep it simple and heartfelt. Mingyu had always loved silly, sentimental moments, so I leaned into that. I grabbed a plain white mug from my kitchen cabinet and a black sharpie, my heart beating fast as I began scribbling across the ceramic surface.

On one side, I wrote, Best Boyfriend Ever, and on the other side, World’s Best Dad.

I grinned as I imagined his reaction. It was cheesy, but it felt perfect for us. I also added a little doodle of a baby on the bottom, just for an extra touch of fun. With the mug in hand, I paced the kitchen for what felt like hours, waiting for him to arrive. I had texted him earlier, asking if he could stop by, playing it off like I just wanted to see him.

When he finally knocked on the door, I felt like I might faint. My heart leapt in my chest as I opened it, and there he was, looking as handsome as ever with his familiar, boyish grin, bundled up in a grey sweater that made his broad frame look even cozier.

“Hey you,” he said, stepping inside and pulling me into a tight hug. I breathed him in, letting his warmth melt away the nervousness that had been building all morning.

“Hey,” I whispered, my face buried in his chest.

“You okay? You seem… different,” he said, pulling back to look at me, his eyes searching my face. “Everything alright?”

I forced a smile, trying to contain my excitement and nerves. “Yeah, everything’s fine. I just well, I made you something.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued, and followed me into the kitchen. I handed him the mug, watching closely as he turned it over in his hands, his eyes lighting up as he saw the first side: Best Boyfriend Ever.

He chuckled, giving me a teasing glance. “This is sweet, but I already knew that.”

“Turn it over,” I urged, my voice shaky with anticipation.

He turned the mug around, and I saw the exact moment it clicked. His eyes widened as he stared at the words, World’s Best Dad, then his gaze shot back to me. For a second, he was frozen, his mouth opening and closing as if he were trying to form words but couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

“No way,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “No way. Are you…?”

I nodded, tears already welling up in my eyes. “Mingyu, I’m pregnant.”

For a split second, I worried about how he would react would he freak out? Would he be scared? But all my fears dissolved when his face broke into the brightest, most beautiful smile I had ever seen. His eyes shimmered with tears, and before I could even say anything else, he pulled me into his arms, holding me so tightly I could barely breathe.

“I’m gonna be a dad?” he choked out, his voice thick with emotion. “We’re gonna have a baby?”

I nodded against his chest, tears spilling over as I laughed through my sobs. “Yeah, we’re gonna have a baby.”

Mingyu pulled back just enough to look at me, his hands cradling my face as his thumbs wiped away my tears. “This is… I can’t believe it. I’m so happy,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “You have no idea how much this means to me.”

I could see the love, the joy, and the overwhelming emotion in his eyes, and it made my heart swell. He kissed me softly, over and over, as if he couldn’t get enough, and I melted into him, feeling a warmth and a peace I had never known before.

But then, just as quickly, his expression shifted. He pulled back and gave me a serious look, his hands dropping to my belly as if he were already protecting the life growing inside me.

“Are you okay? Have you been feeling sick? You need to rest more,” he said, suddenly serious. “Do you need anything? We should go to the doctor—no, wait, I’ll make you tea first. Sit down, you shouldn’t be standing too much.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at how quickly he shifted into overprotective mode. “Mingyu, I’m fine. Really. It’s early, and I’ve been taking care of myself.”

But he was already bustling around the kitchen, grabbing a blanket from the couch and wrapping it around me before insisting I sit. “I just want to make sure you and the baby are safe,” he said, his brow furrowed in concern.

“I know, and I love you for it,” I replied, smiling as he fussed over me. “But there’s something else we need to talk about.”

He paused, looking at me with wide eyes. “What? What is it?”

I grinned, feeling a mischievous excitement bubbling up. “We need to tell the rest of the band.”

Mingyu’s eyes widened again, but this time with excitement. “Oh my god. How do you think they’ll react?”

“I think they’ll be thrilled, but we need to tell them in a fun way. You know, something memorable,” I said, already brainstorming ideas.

Mingyu lit up at the thought. “Yes! Let’s do it! We can tell them all differently.” His enthusiasm was contagious, and soon we were coming up with a plan.

For Seungkwan, we decided to get him a shirt that said Uncle Boo in big, bold letters. Mingyu figured he’d be so caught off guard he might actually cry.

For Jeonghan, the plan was to wrap a baby pacifier in a fancy box and give it to him, saying it was a “VIP gift” for him. I could already imagine the look of confusion that would spread across his face before he put the pieces together.

For Joshua, we planned to take him out for coffee, casually dropping the news in between sips like it was no big deal, just to see how long it would take him to process.

We spent the rest of the afternoon planning every detail, laughing and crying in equal measure as we imagined their reactions. Each moment felt like a new step toward something incredible, something bigger than either of us had ever dreamed.

By the time Mingyu left that evening, his protective instincts had kicked into full gear. He made me promise to call if I needed anything, even if it was the middle of the night. I watched him leave with a heart so full it felt like it might burst, already counting the minutes until I could see him again.

That night, I lay in bed, my hand resting on my stomach, imagining what the future would hold. It was still overwhelming, still terrifying at times, but with Mingyu by my side, I knew we could handle whatever came our way. This was the start of our greatest adventure yet, and I couldn’t wait to see where it would take us.

A few days later, Mingyu and I put our plan into action. The anticipation had been building ever since we decided how we’d break the news to the rest of the band. I could tell Mingyu was beyond excited, though he tried to play it cool, his nervous energy spilling over as we prepared for each of the reveals.

The first to arrive was Seungkwan. He burst through the door, as usual, full of energy and his signature dramatic flair. “I’ve brought snacks!” he announced, holding up a bag of chips and candy. He tossed them on the counter, then plopped down on the couch without missing a beat. “So, what’s the big deal? Mingyu said I had to come over, but he’s been all cryptic about it.”

I exchanged a glance with Mingyu, and he grinned. He handed Seungkwan the gift bag we had prepped earlier a simple white bag with Uncle Boo written across the front. Seungkwan furrowed his brow as he took it, peering inside with curiosity. When he pulled out the shirt and read the words, it took a moment for the realization to hit.

“Uncle Boo?” Seungkwan muttered, confused. He looked up at Mingyu and then at me, still not piecing it together. “What is this supposed to mean?”

Mingyu could barely contain himself, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Think about it, Boo.”

I watched as Seungkwan’s eyes flickered from confusion to shock, and then, in one swift moment, everything clicked. His jaw dropped. “Wait… no… Are you serious?!” His voice pitched higher than I’d ever heard, and he scrambled to his feet, his hands flying to his face. “You’re pregnant?!”

I nodded, tears already threatening to spill as Seungkwan’s eyes filled with emotion. He rushed over and hugged me so tightly I almost lost my balance. “Oh my God! You’re having a baby! I’m going to be an uncle!” He stepped back, staring at me like I had just given him the most precious news in the world. “I’m going to spoil this baby rotten! You two have no idea what you’ve done. I’m going to be the best uncle ever!”

Mingyu laughed, pulling Seungkwan into a hug as well. “We know, Boo. You’re going to be the most extra uncle, and we love you for it.”

As Seungkwan wiped away tears, I could already sense his protective side kicking in. “You need to sit down. Do you need water? I’ll get you some water.” He hurried off to the kitchen, his voice trailing behind him. “And no more stress! From now on, you’re not lifting a finger, do you hear me?”

Mingyu and I exchanged a look, laughing softly. “One down,” he whispered, and I nodded, already feeling the wave of emotions that were sure to follow.

Next, Jeonghan arrived. Mingyu greeted him with a casual, “We got you a VIP gift, hyung,” and handed him the fancy box. I watched as Jeonghan slowly untied the ribbon, his face full of suspicion.

“A gift? What’s the occasion?” Jeonghan asked, smirking as he pulled off the lid. When he saw the baby pacifier, his expression shifted from amused to completely baffled. He picked it up, dangling it between two fingers, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

“A pacifier? You guys are weird,” he said, shaking his head.

Mingyu just crossed his arms, trying to suppress his laughter. “Why do you think we gave you that?”

Jeonghan blinked a few times, his eyes darting between the pacifier, me, and Mingyu. Then, his eyes widened with realization. “Wait… No way. Are you…?”

I nodded, grinning through the tears that had started to form again. “Yeah, Jeonghan. I’m pregnant.”

His face softened immediately, and a slow, genuine smile spread across his lips. “No way,” he whispered, stepping forward to give me the most tender hug. “You’re going to be a mum?” His voice cracked, and I could tell he was holding back tears. “I’m so happy for you.”

For the next few minutes, Jeonghan just stood by me, his arm protectively wrapped around my shoulders, as if he were already taking on the role of the older brother. “You guys better take it easy. She needs to rest, and I don’t want to hear about you doing anything crazy.” His protective instincts kicked in faster than I expected, and I had to smile.

Soon after, Joshua showed up for coffee. Mingyu and I sat across from him at a quiet little café, where the Christmas lights twinkled in the windows. Mingyu casually dropped the news while Joshua was mid-sip, and I watched in amusement as Joshua froze, the mug hovering just inches from his lips. He stared at us, processing the information in complete silence for a solid ten seconds.

“You’re… having a baby?” he finally asked, his voice soft and reverent. When we nodded, Joshua set his coffee down and gave me a gentle smile. “That’s incredible. You’re going to be amazing parents.” His words were so full of warmth and sincerity that I felt my heart swell. Joshua, ever the calm and collected one, didn’t react with the same fanfare as Seungkwan, but the deep emotion in his eyes told me everything. “Whatever you need, I’m here,” he said quietly, reaching across the table to hold my hand. “This is going to be such a special journey.”

As the days went on, we broke the news to the rest of the band, each moment filled with more joy and more emotion than I ever imagined. Vernon’s eyes practically sparkled with excitement, and he immediately asked if he could be the “cool uncle,” while Woozi’s face turned bright red as he offered us a quiet congratulations, though I could see the pride in his eyes.

Hoshi, of course, made it his mission to outdo everyone else with his excitement. He nearly tackled me in a hug, lifting me off the ground, despite my protests that he shouldn’t be so rough. “I’m going to teach the baby all the best dances!” he declared, already imagining how he would choreograph future performances with our little one.

But it was when Seungcheol found out that I completely broke down. He had always been the leader, the protector of the group, and when we told him the news, his reaction was everything I didn’t know I needed. He didn’t say anything at first, just pulled me into a long, tight hug, his chin resting on top of my head. When he finally spoke, his voice was thick with emotion. “You’re going to be an amazing mum. You know that, right?”

I nodded, unable to stop the tears that flowed freely now. “I hope so.”

Seungcheol pulled back, wiping at his own eyes before smiling at me. “We’re all going to take care of you,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “From now on, you’re family, and we protect our family.”

It wasn’t long before the entire group had fully embraced their new roles as overprotective “uncles.” Everywhere I went, at least one of them was by my side, whether it was Seungkwan insisting I eat more or Seungcheol making sure I didn’t carry anything heavier than a glass of water. Mingyu, of course, had taken his protective instincts to a whole new level, constantly checking in on me, making sure I was comfortable, and catering to my every need.

There were days when the attention was overwhelming, when I felt like I couldn’t breathe without someone asking if I was okay. But through it all, there was an overwhelming sense of love, of support, of family. Each of them had wrapped me and the baby in a cocoon of care, and I knew without a doubt that this child would grow up surrounded by more love than I could have ever imagined.

As I lay in bed that night, Mingyu’s arms wrapped around me, I thought about how lucky I was. This baby hadn’t even arrived yet, and already, they had so many people who loved them so many people who would be there, every step of the way.

“I think this is going to be the best adventure yet,” I whispered, my hand resting on my stomach.

Mingyu kissed the top of my head, his voice soft and full of wonder. “I know it will be.”

Nine months passed in a whirlwind, and true to their word, the entire band treated me like an absolute princess. Each day brought a new wave of attention and affection, whether it was Seungkwan bringing me homemade snacks, Woozi composing lullabies for the baby, or Seungcheol taking on the role of personal chauffeur, insisting I didn’t exert myself too much. Even the most mundane activities were taken over by one of the boys—they handled everything with a mix of humor, seriousness, and an overwhelming sense of responsibility.

Mingyu, of course, had been the most attentive of all. He doted on me constantly, running out in the middle of the night to satisfy every odd craving, massaging my feet, and making sure every appointment with the doctor went smoothly. But underneath his excitement, I could tell he was nervous. The thought of becoming a dad thrilled him, but the weight of it all made him anxious too.

We were down to the final stretch, and the nursery was ready, the baby clothes neatly folded, and all the hospital bags packed. Everything was set, and yet nothing could have prepared us for that moment.

It was late at night well past midnight when I woke up to a sharp, twisting pain in my lower abdomen. At first, I tried to dismiss it as Braxton Hicks, something I’d grown used to over the last few weeks, but when the pain came back stronger and more intense, I knew something was happening. My heart raced, adrenaline coursing through me.

I nudged Mingyu, who was snoring softly beside me. “Mingyu, wake up.”

He stirred, groggy and confused. “Hmm? What is it?” His voice was thick with sleep.

“I think it’s time,” I whispered, my voice shaking with both excitement and fear. “The baby’s coming.”

Those words hit him like a shockwave. He shot out of bed, his eyes wide with panic. “Wait, what? Now? Are you sure? Oh my god okay, okay, okay what do we do first? The hospital! Right! We need to get to the hospital!”

I watched in amusement as he stumbled around the room, trying to pull his pants on while simultaneously grabbing the hospital bag and his phone. He was muttering to himself the entire time, his usual composed demeanor completely gone in the chaos. “Where are my keys? What about the car seat? Do we have snacks? What if we forgot something?”

“Mingyu, breathe,” I said, trying to keep myself calm despite the increasingly sharp contractions. “We have everything ready. Just get me to the car.”

He nodded frantically, still fumbling with his phone. “Right, right. The car! Let’s go.”

As soon as we were in the car, he began speeding through the quiet streets of Seoul, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white. Every few minutes, he would glance over at me, his eyes wide with concern. “Are you okay? Does it hurt a lot? Oh my god, you’re so strong. We’re almost there, okay? Just hang on.”

Between contractions, I managed a weak smile. “Mingyu, calm down. I’m okay… just focus on driving.”

By the time we reached the hospital, Mingyu was practically vibrating with energy. He jumped out of the car, running to my side to help me out, though his hands were shaking so badly that I had to reassure him again. “I’m fine, really. We’re going to be okay.”

Once inside, the nurses quickly got me settled into a room, and Mingyu, who was still visibly freaked out, finally stopped pacing long enough to sit beside me. He grabbed my hand, squeezing it tightly as I breathed through another contraction. “I can’t believe this is happening,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe. “We’re about to meet our baby.”

It was in that moment despite the chaos, the pain, and the panic that a sense of calm washed over me. This was it. We were about to start the next chapter of our lives, and I couldn’t have asked for a better partner by my side.

But just as I was beginning to settle into the rhythm of labor, Mingyu’s phone buzzed with an incoming call. He glanced down, his eyes widening. “Oh no. I forgot to tell the guys!”

He quickly answered, and I could hear Seungkwan’s voice on the other end, frantic and high-pitched. “WHERE ARE YOU GUYS? WE’VE BEEN WAITING FOR NEWS!”

Mingyu fumbled with his words, trying to explain the situation between checking on me and answering the nurses’ questions. “Uh, yeah, we’re at the hospital. She’s in labor. It’s happening now.”

Apparently, that was all Seungkwan needed to hear, because within minutes, the entire band was blowing up Mingyu’s phone with messages and calls. They wanted updates, details, everything. And then, of course, they all announced that they were on their way to the hospital.

“What? No! You don’t need to come wait, okay, fine!” Mingyu blurted out, clearly overwhelmed by the chaos already erupting on the other end of the line.

Sure enough, not even an hour later, I heard the telltale sound of commotion in the hallway. The boys had arrived, and from the sounds of it, they had caused quite the stir at the nurses’ station. Voices carried through the corridor as Seungkwan tried to charm his way into the delivery room, while Seungcheol attempted to explain to a nurse why they needed to be there right now.

When the door finally swung open, the chaos came spilling in with it. Seungkwan, Hoshi, Seungcheol, and Vernon all burst into the room, breathless and wide-eyed, each of them talking over the other in a rush to see how I was doing.

“Oh my God, are you okay?” Seungkwan asked, his eyes darting around the room as if expecting something catastrophic to be happening. “Do you need anything? Do you want me to sing to calm you down?”

Hoshi, ever the performer, chimed in. “I brought a playlist of relaxing songs! We can play it while you give birth.”

Vernon looked genuinely concerned, his brow furrowed as he glanced between me and Mingyu. “Do you need water? I’ll go get some water.”

Seungcheol, of course, was the only one trying to maintain some semblance of order. “Alright, everyone, calm down. Give them some space,” he said, though his own voice was strained with emotion. “This is a big moment.”

I couldn’t help but laugh through the pain, grateful for their chaotic love and concern. “Guys, I’m fine,” I managed to say, though my voice wavered as another contraction hit. “It’s just… a lot right now.”

Mingyu, who had been pacing again, stopped and came to my side. His face was flushed, and his eyes filled with both awe and terror. “She’s doing amazing,” he said, as much to the guys as to me. “But… maybe you should all wait outside until it’s time.”

Reluctantly, the group agreed, though not without promises to be right there the moment the baby arrived. “We’ll be in the waiting room,” Seungcheol assured me, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. “Just yell if you need anything.”

As they left, the room grew quieter, and I turned to Mingyu, who was now holding my hand with both of his, his gaze locked on my face. “You’re so strong,” he whispered, his voice filled with emotion. “I can’t believe we’re about to meet our baby.”

The hours blurred together in a mixture of pain, anticipation, and excitement, but through it all, Mingyu never left my side. His hand was a constant source of comfort, his words of encouragement carrying me through the toughest contractions.

And then, finally, the moment came. After what felt like an eternity, the cries of our baby filled the room, and everything stopped. Time seemed to freeze as the nurses placed the tiny, squirming bundle in my arms. I stared down at our baby, tears streaming down my face, unable to comprehend the depth of love I felt in that moment.

Mingyu was beside me, his hand trembling as he reached out to touch the baby’s tiny fingers. “We did it,” he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. “We’re parents.”

As I looked up at him, his eyes filled with tears, I knew that no matter how chaotic, how overwhelming this journey had been, it was all worth it. We had created something beautiful something that connected us in a way that nothing else ever could.

In the hallway, I could hear the muffled cheers of the band as they celebrated the baby’s arrival. Even though they weren’t in the room with us, I knew they were part of this moment, part of this family we had built together.

We were a family now a chaotic, loving, overwhelming family. And as I held our baby in my arms, surrounded by Mingyu’s love and the band’s excitement just outside, I knew we were exactly where we were meant to be.

It’s hard to believe how much time has passed. Our little Lia, once so tiny and delicate in my arms, is now a walking, talking whirlwind of energy and sass. At three years old, she’s already mastered the art of wrapping everyone around her tiny fingers, especially her dad and the rest of the Seventeen boys.

Lia has them all under her spell, and she knows it.

“Mingyu-ya!” her little voice calls from the living room one morning, her pronunciation still adorably toddler-like but clear enough to demand attention.

Mingyu, who had been washing dishes in the kitchen, immediately drops everything at the sound of her voice, sprinting toward her as if his life depended on it. “Yes, princess?” he asks, kneeling down in front of her with a grin that shows just how much he adores her.

She scrunches up her face in mock seriousness, crossing her arms over her chest. “Daddy, why is my elephant not dancing?” She points to the stuffed toy on the floor with a pout.

I stifle a laugh from the doorway, watching as Mingyu immediately picks up the plush elephant and starts doing a ridiculous dance routine with it, making exaggerated noises as if it’s singing along. Lia bursts into giggles, her laughter infectious as she claps her hands in delight.

“See, I told you! Daddy can make the elephant dance,” she declares proudly, as if she had orchestrated the whole performance. And, in a way, she had.

It’s not just Mingyu she has wrapped around her little finger, though. The entire band falls over themselves for her.

There was the time we visited the studio and Hoshi had come running over with wide eyes after Lia demanded he help her “roar like a tiger” while she was playing with some animal toys. Hoshi, ever the dramatic performer, immediately crouched down and gave her the loudest, most exaggerated roar. The two of them then spent the next hour roaring back and forth at each other, while the rest of the band just watched in amusement.

“Hyung, you’re seriously getting schooled by a toddler,” Vernon had teased, but even he wasn’t immune to Lia’s charms. Within minutes, he’d been roped into playing “jungle” with them, crawling around on all fours while Lia rode on his back, giggling uncontrollably.

The best part? Lia’s bossy, sassy side was almost always on full display, especially when she felt things weren’t going her way. One day, she had the audacity to sit Seungcheol—the Seungcheol—down and tell him very seriously, “No, no, Uncle Cheol, that’s not how you build a castle. You’re doing it all wrong. Watch me.”

Seungcheol had looked utterly baffled but also completely charmed. “Oh, really? I’ve been doing it wrong this whole time?” he asked, genuinely listening as she showed him how to properly stack the blocks.

“I think I need some lessons,” he muttered to Mingyu later, laughing at how Lia had taken control of the playtime.

Even Woozi, usually so serious and focused in the studio, couldn’t resist Lia’s pull. Whenever we visited, Lia would inevitably waltz in, head held high, demanding to sit on his lap while he worked. Woozi, who didn’t like being interrupted during his creative process, was a complete pushover when it came to her. He’d let her press a few keys on the piano, giving her an approving nod as if she had composed a symphony, while she smiled up at him proudly.

“You’re my assistant now,” he’d say in his deadpan tone, but there was always a glint of affection in his eyes as Lia “helped” him with his work.

And of course, there’s Mingyu, who has turned into the most doting dad I could have ever imagined. He’s completely smitten with Lia he’s always been loving and protective, but when it comes to his daughter, he’s on another level. I often catch him watching her with the softest expression, like he can’t quite believe she’s real.

One night, after Lia had been particularly bossy during bath time (“No, Daddy, you’re not washing my hair right! Use more bubbles!”), I found Mingyu sitting on the edge of her bed, brushing her hair gently as she fell asleep. He leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, and whispered, “I love you, my little princess.”

It’s moments like these that make my heart swell. Seeing him so in love with our little family it’s everything I could have hoped for.

There was also the infamous “band meeting” Lia had hosted when she decided she wanted to put on a fashion show with her princess dresses. She marched into the living room, hands on her hips, and announced to the guys, “Everyone, listen up! I need you to watch me. Sit here!” She pointed to the couch, directing them as if they were her loyal subjects.

Mingyu, Jeonghan, and Joshua sat dutifully, clapping every time Lia twirled around in one of her dresses, their cheers loud enough to rival an actual concert. At one point, Joshua even got up and pretended to be a fashion show announcer, describing each of her outfits in detail, much to her delight.

Seungkwan had tried to outdo him by grabbing a feather boa and twirling it around as Lia’s “assistant.” “You’ve created a monster,” he’d joked to Mingyu, but the proud dad just shrugged, grinning ear to ear.

“She’s perfect,” Mingyu would always say, his voice filled with pure adoration. And I couldn’t agree more.

One of the funniest moments came just a few weeks ago. Lia had overheard me talking to Mingyu about a show Seventeen was preparing for, and in typical Lia fashion, she decided that she needed to be involved too.

“Dad, I need to be on stage!” she said with a serious expression, tugging on her dad’s shirt.

Mingyu, ever the indulgent father, crouched down to her level. “Oh yeah? What would you do on stage, princess?”

She looked at him as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I’ll sing! And dance! And you can dance behind me.”

At the next rehearsal, true to her word, Lia showed up in a sparkly dress, marched right onto the stage where the guys were practicing, and demanded to have her moment in the spotlight. The band had stopped everything to let her perform her own little routine, complete with a very enthusiastic rendition of the ABCs and a dance that mostly involved spinning in circles. The guys cheered like she was performing in front of thousands, and Mingyu’s eyes shone with pride the entire time.

Every day with Lia is filled with moments like these moments where she’s the center of attention, where she commands the room with her sass, her bossiness, and her irresistible charm.

And through it all, Mingyu and the rest of the band are completely wrapped around her finger, never hesitating to indulge her every whim.

I love watching them together the way Mingyu’s face lights up every time Lia walks into a room, how the guys drop everything when she demands their attention, and the way our little girl has filled our lives with so much joy and laughter.

As I sit back and watch Mingyu helping Lia color outside on the balcony, her little legs swinging from the chair, I realize how blessed we are to have this family. Mingyu is in love with every moment of fatherhood, and I can see it in the way he looks at her his world revolves around her and, by extension, around us. The band, too, has become more than just uncles to Lia.

[marysdigdiaries101]

NEW INTERESTS

summary: as business woman barbie, you had to be quite serious and uptight about your field of work. so when you couldn't make it sleepover night, which wasn't unexpected of course ꒰but nevertheless꒱ , stereotypical barbie comes to check up on you.

warning/s: top! barbie, bottom! reader, no smut, but it's implied, fluff/comfort, tired reader, talk of depression, swearing, not proofread, pretend they have genitals btw.

word count: forgot to check lmao

authors note: hi hi hii ! first post omg? i just watched the new barbie movie and..im fucking obsessed, i swear i missed half the movies dialogue tho cause i was admiring margot's gorgeous face. anyway i thought what if we had a super stressed, borderline depressed barbie who just needed a break from her thoughts ? enjoy pookies ! ୨♡୧

+ btw men dni.

navigation ! | ୨♡୧

the wheels of your pastel pink car came to a stop in your driveway as you sluggishly dragged yourself out of the drivers seat. another long day, another girls night you couldn't deal with. bright lights illuminated the moving bodies on the vast dance floor, pointed stilettos tapping and turning swiftly as stiff hands clapped and clicked to the music.

clutching your purse, you moved across the dance floor, avoiding flapping arms and desperate kens in need of a dance partner. as you got to the last section of your mission, you felt a pair of eyes on you, a pair of eyes that were too familiar for you to shake off. looking over to your far left you found a set ocean blue eyes staring right back at you. the one and only stereotypical barbie. the perfect one, the main bitch of barbieland acknowledging your presence.

conversations between the two of you were very scarce. with you having a very busy work life and her having none at all, you never crossed paths that much. but living right across from her was a given, so conversations at times were necessary.

brushing off the nervous feeling that had crept up on you, you silently scolded yourself for the rosy blush that had quickly painted your cheeks. once again, clutching your purse tighter, you resumed your journey to your apartment in the lively dreamhouse.

the scratched door creaked open as you released your grip on the plastic doorknob. in any other room you can pretty much expect bright pinks and yellows and lovely colors..but not yours. in fact it wasn't the case at all.

black scribble lines all over formerly hot pink walls, torn up grey bed sheets, deflated pillows, a bedside rug that was once a lovely shade of baby blue now a murky lake green, and scratches, whoever was messing with this room had a no sense for care, as this room, this room was desecrated with scratches and marks.

sighing, you flopped unto the creaky mattress, the back of your knees hitting the plastic bed structure. reaching over to your achy feet, you pulled off the black heels that had been causing you anguish the whole day.

dropping your heels, you unzipped your pale pink silk dress, one of the very rare bright pieces of clothing you had left. flinging it over to the other side of the room, you tapped over to your closet, the once shiny, luxurious white structure, scribbled on and vandalised; stripped of its pride. you looked through the distressed drawer that had been left open from the mornings' rush. music flooded into the silence of your room as picked out navy blue pyjama bottoms and a tight fitted white tank top.

as if by magic (no pun intended) , your desired clothing adorned your slim body as you strolled over to your bed, plopping yourself on it and sinking into the mattress.

thoughts clouded your mind like a raging storm, keeping you a prisoner of your own mind. weird barbie said this would happen a lot more so it shouldn't have been unexpected. but it still hit you like a brick every time the thought of stereotypical barbie flooded your head. her plump lips, the crystal blue eyes that locked you in a trance at the slightest glance and her hair, oh god her hair. you just wanted to run your fingers through the golden curls. you wanted to tangle your fingers in it, you wanted to ruin it, you hated how perfect it was.

you hated her. you hated how ken adored her, how everyone was so goddamn drawn to her, it was like the town revolved around her jobless ass. you wanted her. you needed her. you needed her to need you. but you had your ken and she had hers, and that was that.

the last person who uttered a word about a barbie and a barbie or a ken and a ken was weird barbie and look how she turned out. it's not like you weren't weird yourself, with your heels dropping, thoughts about death, uncanny interests in barbie , your burnt waffles and messed up room and messed up clothes, you were borderline line outcast. you just hadn't been sent to the weird house yet.

'it's only a matter of time though'. you thought shutting your eyes. the late nights and early mornings catching up to you.

it only seemed like a few minutes before you felt the opposite side of your bed sink and a warm hand on your icy shoulder. shrieking, you leaped into an upright position, very nearly hitting your head on your heart shaped headboard.

"jesus! what the hell.." you came to an abrupt stop as you looked over to your side meeting a very dear set of eyes. "look, i'm sorry for barging in so randomly, i know you were sleeping and you're a very busy woman and-" the words mushed together in your head as you focused on her pouty lips. you would let her talk for hours on end if it meant seeing those lips move.

"it's okay." you stated, the corners of your lips turning up. "really? i mean i could leave honestly! it's no biggie..i mean if you want me stay i could?" the icy blonde rambled meeting your gaze softly. "i promise your fine." you assured her shuffling a bit, suddenly feeling very naked.

"so why are you here?" you questioned, sinking back into the comfort of your duvet. dropping your gaze, she fiddled with her velvet night gown, undoing the strings and redoing them. "..well i don't know, you looked more down than usual and you at least make it to the nail painting sessions in my room, but today you missed the whole night altogether." barbie confessed, searching your y/e/c eyes for reasons.

"i know, but-" "you promised." she stated, cutting your flimsy excuse short. "i'm sorry. i've just- i've had some things on my mind as of recent." you explained, your eyes looking at barbies' room across from yours.

“ what type of thoughts?” you raised your eyebrow at her answering her question silently. “right. too far… sorry.” she blushed, tucking her blonde hair behind her ears. an uncomfortable silence filled the room as barbie crossed her legs, moving dangerously close to you.

clearing your throat, you glanced at her figure, letting the image cloud your senses. the curve of her hips to the sharp cut of her jawline, she really was the perfect barbie.

“i have thoughts about death too.” barbie whispered. you didn’t reply so she continued “all the time actually. they’re more frequent than they used to be. i thought maybe someone felt the same way as me so i shared it during the dance party downstairs, but, they just looked at me like i was.. weird.”

your heart rate tripled as you gazed up at her. she looked so.. vulnerable. all this time you had thought you were alone in this paradise. you thought of yourself as the elephant in the room. but there was a chance that the one person you thought was perfect, was just as fucked up as you.

“i’m so sorry, i’m gonna leave now-” “stay.” you muttered connecting your eyes with hers. “what?” the blonde asked, a bewildered look on her face. “i think about death too. maybe we have more in common than we thought.” you explained, running your fingers through your y/h/c haphazardly layered hair.

grinning immediately barbie sat back down, babbling instantly. and you did what anyone would do if they were in that same situation, you stared at her with hearts in your eyes, smiling broadly.

only mattel knew how you ended up sprawled across your bed with barbie straddling your lap, braiding chunks of your hair. who knew depressive thoughts could bond two dolls like this?

“your eyes are so pretty.” you murmured gazing up into her ocean blues. blushing she retorted : “oh shut up.” , but you could tell from her scarlet cheeks and darting eyes that she appreciated the compliment.

“can i kiss you?” you blurted, not being able to hold yourself back. barbie stared at you, her eyes glistening. preparing yourself for rejection you opened your mouth only to have it shut by pillowy lips.

stars behind your eyelids, in fact a whole constellation. gliding your fingers up the small of her back, you reciprocated the kiss as she cupped your face softly. biting your bottom lip, she explored your mouth slowly. sucking on your tongue, she extracted a well deserved moan out of you.

“fuck y/n” she groaned, grinding on you. moaning desperately, you fervently moved your hands around her body as she pulled away. breathing heavily you both stared at each other lovingly. “the others will hear..” she commented, returning to fiddling with your hair. agreeing, you smirked as she looked at your lips.

“i better go then. i don’t want you tired tomorrow, busy work life and all.” the blonde remarked as she slowly stood up. “mhm” you retorted, as you let your eyes wander all over her body.

“i’ll see you tomorrow, sleep well okay?” she stated, looking over at you as she got to the door. “i will.” you grinned, snuggling into your comforter. and at that she giggled as she closed your door, the echo of her voice promising you of better days. ˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🩰 ꒱ ˎˊ˗

[elbiotipo]

Some thoughts for a D&D Spelljammer setting I'll probably never get around to actually write:

Spelljamming ships should be a revolution in transport and not only for fantasy space, they're basically flying ships, they could transport things from one end of a planet to another. Worlds that know spelljamming must be very different than those that don't.

What's the limitation here, then? Spelljammers themselves, that is, the guys who pilot the ships. They need to be magic users and you would need at least 2, preferably more, for shifts. That means you need to have mages that could be doing other useful magic stuff piloting a ship.

There's also the cost and skill required to make spelljamming helms. 5000 GPs in materials and level 5 spell apparently. Now, gold and levels in D&D don't mean much to me, so for the purposes of this scenario, I will assume making a spelljamming ship is costly and needs a lot of skill regardless of the actual numbers involved. So you don't have ships flying around the skies of every world, just a few have both the "human resources" (that is, trained mages) and material resources (I assume the spells and components are expensive and rare) to make spelljamming helms and crew ships.

Do we have equivalents of this in the real world? Yes, actually! The entire aircraft industry! Airliners, which are among the most complex machines produced in mass, are basically built only by Boeing, Airbus, and recently Comac on China (there used to be more) and pilots aren't easy to train either. There might be few worlds with the concentrated *productive forces* to build spelljammer helms in "serial" production, outside of some crazy wizard in a tower.

In fact, this is a bit besides the point but in general, the world(s) of D&D are pre-industrial, and this makes sense as for complex tasks you wouldn't really think of using a machine to do it, you seek a magic user who can do it instead. They are very jealous of their trade secrets too. We are looking at a kind of Renaissance economy in a large scale then, with guilds and church(es) and other institutions for "artisanal" complex goods instead of industries. Fantasy settings have always been strange about the demographics of mage users, but I think knowing the role of monasteries, alchemists, etc. during the real-life Renaissance helps you get closer to the dynamics.

Returning to the ships, I think spelljammer ships (or helms) might be hard to make but very hardy, long-lasting and easy to pilot, sort of like DC-3s that were built before WWII and are still used in Colombia. So that fits with the adventurer idea of getting an old ship and going into the stars. And maybe there is a surplus of them in some worlds that used to have large navies (like post-WWII surplus of airplanes and ships).

In Spelljammer you can stick a spelljamming helm on anything and make it fly, even seagoing ships (which are preferred for many reasons) but the true spelljamming ships like the Hammerhead Ship, the Squid Ship, etc. have strange shapes. I will say that those are not just decorative (because that's frankly a bit silly) but actually designed for better navigation through the currents of the Phlogiston or Astral Sea.

The 5e rules of spelljamming navigation basically say that ships go into the Astral Sea and then the spelljammer at the helm just thinks where to go and flies "100 million miles in 24 hours", that's it, just think about it and you're wherever you want, or, if you're not in a ship, you can just fly through the astral sea and, I quote "The more intelligent a creature is, the faster it can move." Which is frankly too stupid for words. I'm actually kind of angry at how stupid it is.

I'm completely ditching the 5e Astral Sea with its whole spiritual thing (to me that's a completely different thing) and making it a material plane of phlogiston (or aether, that sounds better) where the crystal spheres float. They aren't fixed, they move and flow with the stellar currents, but you CAN navigate them if you're attuned to them, you can use navigation equipment to find particular spheres and you can use your sails to get more favorable currents, this is a skill you have to learn and can cut travel times or let you find some things in space.

Doesn't that sound much better than "you just think and you're there xdxddxddxdxd"?

So how fast then? I think we'll just play it safe and see the top speed of sailing ships on the real world. Clippers, the fastest sail ships before steam ships, took roughly 100 days to cross the Pacific. The usual before was about 4-6 months. It depends on how big your setting is, but I think that's a good estimate to go to "the other side of the world" as one would say. And it of course would depend on how well known the routes are. It could be that you simply CAN'T fly to other spheres without doing extensive navigation first.

So instead of having 10 to 100 days at random to go somewhere (like in the original Spelljammer) or the somehow even stupider rules of 5e, you would have a map of well navigated, average, poorly known, and completely unknown spelljamming routes. Every time you got farther away from the well-known routes, navigation becomes more dangerous and travel more slow. You need (both in game terms and in setting terms) to have good navigation skills to get anywhere fast and safe.

You could have crystal spheres grouped in "constellations" (in my setting I do) that are easier to navigate inside, where the currents are known. This is also useful for worldbuilding "regions" in fantasy space that share cultural traits.

There must be all sorts of magical and non-magical navigation means, especially for landing on planets. Magical lighthouses, compasses, communication (a kind of morse code that can be communicated by lights, when magical communication isn't an option). I would think that for convenience, since planets are so big, spelljammers might sort of memorize the land of the main port and not bother with the rest. It might be that in an entire world, only one or two ports are truly visited by spelljammers. This also means that it would be very easy to set up a new base somewhere, even in well-travelled worlds.

What about power projection and star empires? We can read about colonial empires and age of sail trade to get a hint here. Empires where you rule by posting armies in every planet are very unlikely, since we established spelljammers are kind of expensive to make. Imagine invading and controlling, say, Earth in the 1600s with a dozen ships.

But imperialism where an external power controls key trade routes and ports, economically controlling a world, is very possible. This control means that those worlds must be integrated into the *galactic* economy somehow, as a large world can be self-sustaining, but its connections to the greater galaxy can be controlled. So, an imperialist power might succeed into controlling the economy of a world by controlling its trade centers and politics, without needing large armies or simply enlisting local collaborators. In fact, many might not be even aware they belong to a interstellar empire in their maps. On the other hand, *more* *voluntary* associations similar to the Hansa or Greek leagues might arise.

[writteninthebinds]

Teach Me

A Jayvik fic - part two

Word-count: 2256

Summary: Jayce teaches Viktor how to dance. Things get a little heated.

Warnings: This is pretty tame. A little nsfw dialogue at the end that alludes to part three.

Notes: I really love this. This is technically part two but you can read it on its own. You can find and read part one on my page. I didn’t put near the same amount of effort into part one, so I might even go back and update it sometime soon. I’ll create a list where you can find them all together too. It’s currently 5am, haven’t slept and I won’t be able to sleep if I don’t post this now, so I apologize if there’s mistakes lol. I’ll edit them when I wake up again. 🫶🏼 you guys.

“Oh, but there is no music,” Viktor musters with pause, like a last-minute thought. Like he didn’t fully think through asking Jayce to teach him how to dance. Here, alone, in his room for the night. Viktor stands towards the end of the large king-sized bed, navy-colored sheets with gold stitching. His cane is tucked into his side, eyes on Jayce, who’s still standing in front of the double doors leading to the balcony.

Jayce is luminated from behind. The glow of the party lanterns below casting warm shadows into the night sky and their -  Viktor’s room.

“We shouldn’t need any,” Jayce promises as he steps further in. He’s still taking in the room, the colors and warm ambient lighting, when he focuses back on Viktor. For a split second, he stands there looking unsure, doubtful or perhaps even regretful for asking Jayce.

Something akin to dedication and reverence rakes its way across Jayce’s bones. Deep in his marrow. He wants to erase any trace of unease from Viktor’s body and mind.

Taking a few long strides, Jayce moves to a small coffee table in the room. Sly smirk painted across his lips, hands already deep within his pockets, searching, he says, “You get the steps right, I give you more of these.”

Confusion clouds Viktor’s face. Eyebrow quirked, nose slightly scrunched, until he looks down. Jayce litters the tabletop with sweets. The same candy he stole earlier. Viktor’s favorite. A laugh is shoved from Viktor’s chest as handfuls are dropped. He watches in awe, in surprise. Jayce can’t tell which, though he decides right then and there that he’ll do anything to keep that look of wonder and mischief on Vik’s face.

“Jayce.”

Viktor laces his name with muted laughter and accusation, really failing to look upset in the slightest. 

“Don't. Don’t give me that. You’re lucky I didn’t grab the crystal dish they were sitting in. Would’ve been easier to carry all night. Been weighing down my pockets,” Jayce rambles.

Set ablaze from the joy on Viktor’s face, he’s moving faster again, not overthinking every move. He gets excited. Jayce knows this. His words and actions speed up, excitement bubbling in his chest. Enhanced by Viktor.

He's still going, Jayce. Still talking, still moving, until a slight breeze pours cool air down his back. It’s then Jayce pauses. His suit jacket is already halfway down his arms, resting in the crooks of his elbows. He wasn’t thinking. Why would he take off his jacket just to dance? Is it weird? Does Viktor think so?

No.

Jayce watches as Viktor stands there rolling up his own sleeves so causally. He doesn’t stop, still folding the fabric. He only looks up at Jayce when he’s been quite for a little too long. And Viktor just smiles. Easy and cool. Like a lazy creek. It soothes Jayce, like the most expensive balm one could buy.

“Alright,” Jayce explains as he shucks off his jacket the rest of the way, “the Waltz. It’s a simple box step.”

He closes the distance between them. His nerves are only settled for so long, until he comes to stand in front of Viktor. Until he realizes, they both can’t lead.

A smug smile tugs at the corner of Viktor’s mouth. He doesn’t wait for Jayce to voice what he can clearly read written on his face. Confident as always, he grabs Jayce’s hands. Hosting their right and left into the air, clasped together, and guiding Jayce’s right to his back. Viktor whispers, “You lead. I will follow.”

That stirs something within Jayce. Deep in his gut. A pit buried and nestled behind his belly button, and Viktor’s dipping his fucking fingers in.

He feels the back brace beneath Viktor’s black shirt, firm under his open palm. Jayce wants more. To feel more. He looks good in black. Fuck.

The feeling of Viktor’s hand coming to a rest on his shoulder shakes Jayce from his thoughts.

“We’re essentially mirroring one another’s steps, in the shape of a box. Each step is a corner,” Jayce describes. His hands are still on Viktor when he realizes he probably should’ve shown him the steps first, with more space between them. He steps away to demonstrate.

They walk through it slowly. One step at a time. Apart and then together again. Jayce gets lost. It might look like he’s letting Viktor work through the stumbling steps on his own, but no, he’s just lost. In Viktor.

Jayce in time relaxes. His right hand splays broader on Viktor’s back, covering so much space. His thumb trailing the line of his spine through the brace. He wants to feel skin. Their palms are slick with sweat, Viktor’s fingers tightening against his hand and shoulder with each misstep.

“Viktor,” Jayce speaks, “eyes on me.”

Instantly Viktor is there, grip still tight and honey amber eyes fixed on his face with determination. A bit of annoyance. Jayce smiles softly. He finds it endearing. Viktor’s intent to learn. Though now Viktor doesn’t respond, doesn’t return to the steps either.

A beat of silence. Then –

“How do you suppose I learn if I am not looking?” Viktor sputters, frustration etched into his features like Jayce asked him for something impossible. It only fuels Jayce’s adoration. Laughing, he pulls away gently, fingertips lingering, and walks over to the small table.

“You’ve done exceptional,” Jayce says as he swipes two pieces of chocolate. He walks back over to Viktor, unwrapping the fudge himself and holding the foil flat for Viktor to pick off of. Even more melted than before, fudge and peanut butter coat the foil, smudging their skin.

“The only exceptional thing I’ve achieved is not breaking any of your toes,” Viktor muses. Joking, but still frustrated. Viktor finishes eating, slipping his thumb into his mouth, ridding it of any left-over fudge.

Jayce finishes his own, tucking the trash into his pocket to deal with later. Busying himself, Jayce stares at Viktor’s feet, his brace, partly thinking and partly looking anywhere else that is not Viktor’s mouth. He replays the steps in his mind.

While he didn’t lie to Viktor at all, he can understand the hiccups due to the brace. The small steps forward aren’t so much the issue as the side steps and going backwards. Viktor’s leg brace was built for stability. Rigid and sturdy, not for flowing movements. Counterbalancing his weight without his cane is also new.

“Take off your shoes,” Jayce declares. It stops Viktor mid sentence, going on again about Ms. Ellis and when she’ll notice the missing bowl of sweets. He stands there frozen and perplexed.

“I will have to remove my brace as well,” Viktor explains slowly. Jayce gives him a soft smile.

“Would that be alright? Do you trust me?”

Viktor’s features melt at Jayce’s questions. Relaxing, from unsure to fondness, he replies without doubt, “Of course.”

Jayce doesn’t wait another second.

He kicks off his own shoes, and then drops to his knees. Jayce’s calloused hands, callouses Viktor has now felt scratch his skin through his shirt, they start disassembling his brace with ease. Viktor can feel the heat of Jayce’s palms, warm and large trailing their way from his thigh to his calf, slipping the brace off with care. He then slips the ties of Viktor’s dress shoes loose easily, letting him hold onto his shoulder as his heels slide out.

Perhaps the chocolate has gone to Jayce’s head.

“Now what?” Viktor ask once their both standing again, facing each other, amusement and sarcasm replacing his confusion. They’re both in their socks. Feet sinking into the plush carpet, Jayce takes a step forward, and another.

“Wanted to try something. You’re gonna have to be closer this time though,” Jayce explains. He crowds into Viktor’s space. His right hand reaching forward with confidence, with the excuse that it’s for the dance. Viktor doesn’t hesitate, slipping back into the familiar stance. Until -

“Now, place your feet onto mine,” Jayce explains.

Now Viktor hesitates.

Looking up from the floor, amber eyes on hazel, Viktor says nothing. He just looks at Jayce intently. A moment passes, thick with tension. And in another moment, Viktor drops their clasped hands, grabbing Jayce’s other shoulder.

It shouldn’t be as intimate as it feels. The soft arch of his feet. A shutter shouldn’t rack its way down Jayce’s body as Viktor’s sock covered feet slide onto his.

It’s closer than Jayce thought. Both of Viktor’s hands now rest higher up Jayce’s shoulders. Instinctively, his left found Viktor’s waist, holding him steady as he found his balance and a comfortable position. Just as he settles, looking back to Jayce directly, soft music drifts in from the balcony. The party outside.

Jayce nearly forgot. The sea of people outside, mingling and some dancing themselves. Though Jayce would never trade spots with any of them. Money, power, spotlight. He’s content here. Alone with Viktor, in the sanctity of this room. A new song begins downstairs. Jayce’s cue to start moving.

He moves with a little more effort, the weight of Viktor comforting more than anything though. Gliding across the carpet Jayce starts with a formal Waltz. Poised and perfect. Long strides. He even adds in the turns. He wants Viktor to feel it, the grace of a Waltz you’d perform in front of the eyes of those downstairs.

But here, with Viktor, he shortens his steps soon. Because that is not them. He doesn’t feel the pressure to be perfect in Viktor’s arms. They’re more than fancy parties and the “right way” to dance. He wants Viktor to know he can have it all, that Jayce will show him everything, but that most of all, any way is perfect as long as it’s them. Together.

Before long, they’re simply turning softly, swaying. Moves Viktor could easily do and yet his feet never leave Jayce’s.

“Thank you,” Viktor breathes. The words are spoken lowly enough between them that Jayce barely registers it. Lost again. Jayce hums in response. He can’t do words at the moment.

Viktor’s body has drifted even closer. Jayce thinks if he takes a deep enough breath, their chests might brush together. But right now, it’s Viktor’s hands. Venturing from his shoulders to the nape of his neck, Viktor’s fingers graze against the longer strands of Jayce’s grown out hair. It sends goosebumps erupting, racing across his skin.

“What may I do for you in return? For all of this, tonight?” Viktor ask, his voice different now. Still sweet, still rich, but lower. Jayce understands right then that Viktor reminds him of syrup. His voice specifically. Aged and pure. Sticky sweet and slow. Thick and consuming.

Jayce smiles, responds, “The fudge, remember?”

“No,” Viktor muses, “something else.”

“Teach me something.”

Jayce can’t even regret it, once it’s past his lips and out of his mouth. Words thrown out like a curveball in slow motion. He meant it sincerely. Jayce taught him something, why not offer the same in return?

It came out heavy though. Flirty. Loaded with innuendo due to the slight draw of Jayce’s voice now.

“Like what?” Viktor inquires. It’s this moment Viktor’s fingers, warm and soft, fully slide into Jayce’s hair at the base of his skull. Jayce bites his tongue, and everything he wants to say back.

How to touch you. How to kiss you. How to ask for that from you. Fuck.

Jayce says nothing. He knows though. Viktor knows. Has always been able to read Jayce’s thoughts. Can read it all over his face too, and in the steel look in his eyes.

There is only a beat, soft, before Viktor’s grip tightens in his hair, ripping a gasp from Jayce.

Before he can breathe in again, Viktor’s mouth finds his. Warm. Soft. Their chest fully pressed together now. Jayce’s lungs burn for a full breath, but he doesn’t relent. Neither of them do. He only needs Viktor. To breathe him in.

His arms wrap fully around Viktor’s waist, pulling him in tighter, hands roaming his back now. Their tongues meet and that pit in Jayce’s belly turns molten. A sound Jayce doesn’t want to admit to escapes as Viktor brings a hand around to his face, nails scrapping through his bread. They break apart.

“Jayce,” Viktor rasp.

Jayce doesn’t give him a chance. Driven by need and Viktor’s wrecked tone. Knowing he made him sound like that, he dives back in, erasing the smile from Viktor’s face. Jayce licks behind his teeth, tasting champagne and chocolate, and just - Viktor.

Viktor’s nails scratch his jaw again, venturing lower. His other hand still drags through Jayce’s hair. Things become slower. Hands still roaming, squeezing, pulling. They stand still though. No longer swaying, Jayce’s feet are going numb and tingly beneath them, and he couldn’t care less.

Languid strokes of their tongues draw out more and more sounds. Jayce is distracted. Drowning and loving it. Drinking Viktor in by the lungful. It’s why he doesn’t see it coming.

Another tight grip in his hair, accompanied this time by Viktor’s other hand wrapped around his throat too, squeezing as Viktor sinks his teeth into Jayce’s bottom lip.

“I – unnf.”

Jayce groans, best he can with the way Viktor has his neck cranked back, fingers tightening around his throat.

“Tell me, Jayce. Tell me what you want to learn,” Viktor all but purrs.

He leans in, not going back to fully kissing him but licking across and into Jayce’s open mouth. Like he can’t stop himself either. Like Viktor, too, is fueled by desire, too hungry to wait for a response.

Jayce is weak. Weak when it comes to Viktor. Viktor’s wet mouth and hard touch. He sticks his own tongue out, meeting anywhere Viktor will allow him a taste. He only answers when Viktor pulls back once again.

He pants like a dog. Whines, only a little.

“Teach me how to suck cock.”

[helvegen-s]

crossing lines | one

index

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x OC

Summary: In the dizzying world of Formula 1, where speed and competition dominate every second, Carlos Sainz Jr., a young Spanish driver with undeniable talent, struggles to find his place amidst the pressure and expectations. Livia Visconti, heiress to an Italian fashion empire, moves with the same determination in a universe of elegance and power. Two opposing worlds, two strong personalities, an inevitable clash that will ignite a spark between them. But in a world where image and success are everything, can they risk it all for a love that defies the rules of the game?

WC: 4.0k

Warnings: strong language, sexual innuendos, enemies to lovers...

A/N: im really excited about this little story. i have already written all of the chapters, so i'll be posting one part a day maybe? we'll see hehe. i really hope you enjoy it, stay tuned for what's to come :)

The ballroom of the Hotel Cavalieri in Maranello shimmered with the opulence characteristic of Formula 1. Chandeliers made of Murano crystal cast a golden light over the round tables, draped in pristine white linens and adorned with exotic floral centerpieces. Champagne flowed like a golden river, filling crystal glasses that clinked in the hands of motorsport’s elite. Entrepreneurs, celebrities, drivers, engineers, designers... all gathered for Ferrari’s annual gala dinner, a ritual that marked the start of the season and strengthened the ties between the Scuderia and its sponsors.

Carlos Sainz, dressed in an elegant navy blue suit that contrasted with his Mediterranean tan, moved through the crowd with a blend of professional courtesy and barely concealed weariness. The trivial conversations, forced smiles, hollow compliments... it all felt like a tedious prelude to what truly mattered: speed, adrenaline, the thrill of competition on the track. He observed the scene with the detached gaze of a wolf trapped in a ballroom, searching for an escape route among the sequins and tuxedos.

His eyes met those of Charles Leclerc, who, with a diplomatic smile and an innate mastery of the art of social conversation, was chatting animatedly with a group of Italian businessmen. Charles, unlike Carlos, seemed to revel in the luxurious, sophisticated atmosphere.

“Look, there’s the heiress to the Visconti empire,” Charles remarked with an ironic smile, subtly gesturing toward a woman who stood out from the crowd. “They say her father has invested a fortune in the Scuderia. We’d better treat her well, don’t you think?”

Carlos followed his gaze and felt a chill run down his spine. There she was—Livia Visconti—dazzling in a red haute couture dress that hugged her curves with defiant sensuality. Her jet-black hair cascaded over her shoulders, framing a face of delicate features and feline eyes that radiated intelligence and determination. She laughed, chatted animatedly, and moved with the confidence of someone used to being the center of attention. Around her, a retinue of young heirs to vast fortunes and the occasional famous influencer completed the scene.

“That one...” Carlos muttered with a tone of distaste. “Yeah, I know her. A real nightmare.”

“You know her?” Charles asked, surprised. “From where?”

“We crossed paths a few months ago at a club in Monaco,” Carlos explained, frowning. “She tried to flirt with me, but I wasn’t interested. We ended up insulting each other like two truck drivers...”

Charles burst out laughing. “No way... What happened?”

“Nothing,” Carlos replied with a shrug. “I told her a few truths to her face, and she left. I can’t stand people like her—superficial, arrogant, only interested in money and fame...”

“Well, she doesn’t seem so terrible...” Charles said, observing her with curiosity. “Maybe she was just having a bad day.”

“Don’t be fooled by appearances, Charles,” Carlos warned with a grimace. “That woman is a viper...”

At that moment, as if sensing the intensity of their stares, Livia Visconti turned toward them and flashed an enigmatic smile. Her red lips curved into an expression that hinted at amusement, defiance, and a touch of vengeance. Carlos felt a knot form in his stomach. He knew that this encounter boded nothing good.

Livia glided through the crowd with the grace of a panther, her red dress billowing like a flame in her wake. Her heels clicked against the marble floor, announcing her arrival like a trumpet of war. Carlos watched her approach with a mixture of fascination and apprehension. He knew this encounter would be unpleasant, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away.

“Charles, darling,” Livia said with her melodic Italian accent and a sweet voice that contrasted with the coldness in her eyes, “what a joy to meet you! You look radiant. Ready to dominate the track this season?”

From that moment, Carlos knew he wasn’t going to be part of the conversation happening around that tall cocktail table. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand Italian—far from it; he spoke it almost perfectly. It was the fact that Livia hadn’t even bothered to acknowledge his presence as he stood there.

What a cunning harpy.

“Livia, it’s a pleasure,” Charles replied with a charming smile. “Thank you for your kind words. I can’t wait for the season to begin. And you, how are you? It’s an honor to have you here, representing Casa Visconti.”

“Delighted to be here, Charles,” Livia said, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. “This is an exciting moment for my family’s brand. We’re thrilled about this new partnership with Ferrari. And, of course, with you.”

Carlos couldn’t believe what he was seeing. That display of insincerity and false modesty, the way Livia swirled her champagne glass near her head, as if trying to hypnotize poor Charles. Livia, with the mastery of a chess player, moved her pieces precisely, weaving a web of charm and seduction.

“Charles, darling,” Livia continued, with a smile that still didn’t reach her eyes, “I was just thinking… Your image, your style, that energy you exude… It fits perfectly with Casa Visconti’s new collection. I’d love for you to be the face of our next campaign.”

Charles, visibly flattered, opened his eyes in surprise. Carlos couldn’t help but do the same.

Charles, are you seriously falling for this? You have a girlfriend, you idiot.

“Me? The face of Casa Visconti?” he asked incredulously.

“Of course,” Livia affirmed, her gaze shining with conviction. “You’d be the perfect ambassador. Imagine: photos in the most prestigious fashion magazines, runway shows in the world’s major capitals, your face on billboards everywhere… All while respecting your sporting calendar, of course. Adrenaline and cars come first…”

That was the straw that broke the camel’s back. The tone, the disdainful implication that, regardless of anything else in their lives, drivers had nothing on their minds but cars, cars, cars.

“You don’t care about anything, do you?” Carlos snapped, his voice loaded with indignation. “All you see are walking banknotes, pretty faces, and empty heads. You don’t realize that we’re people, with dreams, with talent.”

Livia looked at him with a mix of surprise and amusement. That burst of honesty had caught her off guard.

“People?” she replied with an ironic smile. “Come on, Carlos, don’t be naive. In this world, all that matters is image, success, power. And you drivers? You’re nothing but money-making machines.”

“We’re not machines,” Carlos shot back, his face reddening with anger. “We’re elite athletes. We dedicate years of training and sacrifice to reach the top. We love speed, competition, adrenaline…”

“And the million-dollar contracts, the exclusive parties, the fame…” Livia added with a shrug. “Don’t kid yourself, Carlos. You’re all here for the same thing: money and glory.”

“Not all of us,” Carlos insisted, locking eyes with her. “I race because it’s my passion, because it’s in my blood.”

“Certainly in your blood. I wonder how much it cost your father to secure you that seat at Ferrari, and you haven’t even managed to hold onto it.” Carlos had to muster an almost superhuman effort to bite his tongue. Livia knew exactly where to strike to make it hurt the most. She was cruel, and her eyes revealed how much she was enjoying it. “Anyway, Hamilton will be much more useful for the brand’s image. He’s already a fashion icon, whereas you…”

Charles let out a sound that was somewhere between a cough and a laugh, quickly apologizing as he cleared his throat under Carlos’s accusatory glare.

"What?" challenged Carlos, stepping closer to Livia. "Am I not handsome enough? Don’t I have the right cheekbones to sell perfumes and suits?"

Charles laughed again, this time not even bothering to hide it, and both Livia and Carlos turned to him with withering glares.

"God, sorry."

Livia turned back to Carlos, her eyes slowly tracing the Spanish driver’s face, lingering on his lips, his jawline, the way his dark hair fell over his forehead.

"Physically, you’re not bad," she admitted with a mocking smile, "but you’re missing something. A certain… spark. A touch of danger. Hamilton has it. You… you’re too predictable."

"Predictable?" Carlos scoffed. "You think you know me, Livia? You think you can see right through me just because we had one unpleasant encounter?"

"I can see enough," he replied, her voice a low purr. "I can see the ambition burning under the surface. The hunger for victory. But it’s all controlled, contained. You’re afraid to let go, to take risks."

"And you?" Carlos shot back, stepping even closer. "Are you afraid to take risks, Livia?"

Their eyes locked, the air between them crackling with electricity. Livia felt a shiver run down her spine. Carlos was playing a dangerous game, but she couldn’t resist the challenge.

"I never back down from a challenge," she said, her voice barely a whisper.

"Livia, darling!" a sharp, unmistakably British-accented voice called out from across the room, interrupting the tense exchange between Livia and Carlos.

Livia sighed with feigned resignation, though a spark of relief glimmered in her eyes. The interruption couldn’t have been better timed.

"Excuse me, gentlemen," she said with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. "I must attend to my dear friend. It seems Lady Baskerville needs my help choosing the right wine to pair with the risotto. You know, the important things in life…"

She turned to Charles, ignoring Carlos entirely.

"Charles, darling, I’ll speak with your representative to arrange a fitting session and some test photos as soon as possible. I’m certain that together, we’ll make history."

With a wink and a seductive smile, Livia strutted away, weaving through the tables, leaving behind an expensive trail of perfume and a cloud of tension. Carlos watched her leave, feeling a mix of frustration and strange fascination. That woman was unpredictable, manipulative, and shamelessly ambitious. And yet, he couldn’t deny that there was something irresistibly captivating about her.

"Wow," Charles said, glancing at Carlos while stifling a laugh and fanning his face with his hand. "I could’ve cut the sexual tension with a knife. Just sleep together already and stop arguing like kids."

"What?"

The photo studio buzzed with controlled activity. Livia moved through the assistants, photographers, and stylists like a queen in her court, her elegance standing in stark contrast to the organized chaos around her. Her sharp gaze took in every detail: the lighting, the furniture arrangement, the delicate floral arrangements she had personally chosen at the Milan market. In Casa Visconti, perfection wasn’t just a goal; it was a demand.

"Alessandro, where are the fabric samples I asked for?" she asked firmly, her attention never straying from the scene unfolding before her.

"I'll bring them right away, Miss Visconti," the young man replied, disappearing backstage.

Livia mentally reviewed the day’s schedule. The photoshoot with Charles Leclerc, Ferrari’s new star, was the centerpiece of the autumn campaign. She had envisioned it for weeks, carefully planning every detail to highlight Charles’s elegant masculinity and the timeless sophistication of Casa Visconti.

"Miss Visconti, Mr. Leclerc has arrived," the receptionist announced from the door.

A satisfied smile curved Livia’s lips. Everything was falling into place.

"Perfect. Have him go to the dressing room and let Miss Marisa take his measurements," she ordered, her tone efficient.

She turned toward the mirror, adjusting a rebellious strand of her jet-black hair. Flawless, as always. An ivory silk dress clung to her slender frame, and a diamond necklace sparkled at her throat. Today, more than ever, she needed to be perfect. Charles Leclerc was a key piece in her strategy to solidify the Visconti empire.

Just then, the studio door swung open, interrupting her thoughts. Livia turned, expecting to see Charles enter with his characteristic charm. But instead, standing in the doorway was Carlos Sainz, his intense gaze exuding an air of challenge that completely threw her off.

For a brief moment, a crack appeared in the wall of her composure. Carlos Sainz wasn’t part of her plan, and the realization irked her deeply. But she couldn’t afford to show any weakness, especially in front of him.

"What are you doing here?" Livia asked, her voice as cold as marble, though her heart was racing.

Carlos raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying her confusion.

"I guess I’m the consolation prize," he said with an ironic smile. "Charles couldn’t make it, so Ferrari decided to send me. Don’t worry, I’ll try to meet your expectations."

Livia studied him carefully, forcing herself to hide the frustration rising within her. Despite herself, she noticed how the light in the studio highlighted Carlos’s features. He wasn’t as polished as Charles, but there was something about his natural confidence that was, against all odds, magnetic.

"I don’t understand," she said, her words sharp. "Why couldn’t Charles make it?"

"Apparently, he has an unmissable commitment with Shell," Carlos explained with a casual shrug.

"An unmissable commitment," Livia repeated, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "How convenient."

"Don’t take it personally," Carlos said, stepping closer with an ease that seemed to challenge her. "I’m sure Charles is devastated about not being here."

"I don’t care what Charles feels," Livia replied, maintaining her distance. "What matters to me is that my campaign is falling apart."

"Don’t exaggerate," Carlos said, smiling with an irritating calmness. "I don’t think it’s that bad. I can do the job just as well as Charles."

"I don’t doubt it," Livia said, giving him a look that was meant to be deadly, though her grip on the conversation was starting to slip. "But you’re not Charles Leclerc."

"No, I’m not," Carlos admitted, stepping a little closer, just enough to challenge her without seeming intimidating. "I’m Carlos Sainz. And maybe you’ll be surprised."

An assistant hurried by with a tray of fabrics, almost tripping over a loose cable. No one seemed to notice the growing tension between Livia and Carlos, except for Marisa, the dressmaker, who was watching from the back with a curious smile.

"We’ll see," Livia said, offering a mysterious smile as she turned away.

The air between them felt almost electric. Livia took a deep breath, forcing herself to focus. She had a campaign to salvage, and though Carlos wasn’t part of her original plan, she couldn’t let this unexpected situation derail her vision.

"Marisa, take Mr. Sainz’s measurements," Livia finally said, her irritation masked by resolve. "And make sure he doesn’t move a muscle."

Carlos chuckled lowly as he watched her walk away.

"Don’t worry, Visconti," he said. "I’ll do exactly what you ask… more or less."

Livia didn’t respond, but the slight blush on her neck betrayed the fact that Carlos’s challenge had not gone unnoticed.

Livia moved to the center of the studio, trying her best to ignore the sound of Carlos’s footsteps trailing behind her. The cameras, the lights, and the frantic movement of assistants provided the perfect stage for her to regain control. She was Livia Visconti, and nothing—not even a last-minute change—was going to ruin her plan.

"Luigi! Make sure the lighting favors the warm tones. I don’t want harsh shadows," she ordered, passing by the technical team.

"Yes, Miss Visconti!" came the quick response.

Out of the corner of her eye, Livia saw Carlos approaching the dressing area, where Marisa, the head dressmaker, awaited him with a measuring tape in hand and a professional expression.

"Welcome, Mr. Sainz," Marisa said, her tone light with an underlying tone of complicity, sensing the tension in the air.

Carlos smiled sideways, his charm effortless.

"Thanks. I’ll try not to disappoint."

Livia stood at a prudent distance, watching as Marisa began taking Carlos’s measurements. He remained still, but his gaze occasionally shifted toward her, as though gauging her reaction.

"Stand up straight, please," Marisa instructed as she measured the length of his arms.

"Of course, of course," Carlos replied, his carefree tone betraying his amusement.

Livia crossed her arms, her patience running thin. She couldn’t deny that Carlos had a presence, but would it be enough to save the campaign? As Marisa asked him to remove his jacket, Livia noticed something different about him. It wasn’t Charles’s calculated perfection, but something more raw and authentic. And though she would never admit it, that added an unexpected touch to the project.

"Is this good?" Carlos asked as he unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the fitted t-shirt underneath.

"Perfect," Marisa responded without missing a beat, though nearby assistants whispered among themselves.

Livia, however, didn’t murmur. She had regained her composure and was walking toward the dressing area with firm steps.

"Marisa, how much longer do you need?" she asked, deliberately ignoring Carlos’s presence.

"A few more minutes, Miss Visconti. I’m just adjusting the shoulders."

Livia nodded and turned toward Carlos, her eyes meeting his. There was something in his gaze—an undeniable spark of challenge mixed with amusement—that irritated and fascinated her in equal measure.

"Everything good, Miss Visconti?" Carlos asked, his smile teasing.

"Perfect," she replied coldly. "I just hope you’re as good in front of the camera as you are with words."

Carlos let out a soft chuckle.

"Don’t worry, I can do both. But if you need to test it beforehand, I wouldn’t mind a trial session."

Livia forced herself to stay calm as an assistant handed her a folder with the designs for the session.

"I hope you're ready, Sainz," she said, flipping through the pages without looking at him. "In this studio, perfection is the only option."

"Then I’ll fit in perfectly," he replied, shrugging.

The exchange was interrupted when Marisa took a step back, satisfied.

"He’s ready, Miss Visconti. The measurements are perfect."

Livia nodded and turned toward Carlos.

"Very well. Go to the dressing room and put on the first suit. We’re starting right away. No time to waste."

Carlos gave her one last smile before heading to the dressing room, leaving Livia with a mix of frustration and an emotion she wasn’t ready to analyze. As he disappeared behind the curtain, Livia let out a contained sigh and focused on the task at hand.

The photoshoot resumed, but now there was something different in the air, something neither Livia nor Carlos could ignore. Every time their eyes met, the space between them seemed to shrink, though neither of them would admit it.

Livia, unable to avoid it, watched as Carlos posed in front of the camera. His posture was relaxed yet imposing, his natural confidence undeniable. The photographer asked him to move a little closer, and as he did, Livia noticed how his scent reached her. His closeness disoriented her, and for a moment, her thoughts scattered.

But she quickly dismissed them. You can’t afford to be distracted, she reminded herself. She was there to work, not to indulge in something as fleeting as attraction.

Suddenly, Carlos turned his head slightly, and their eyes met. It was brief, like a spark, but enough to send a shiver through both of them.

The moment passed as quickly as it had come, and Carlos was the first to break the silence.

"What’s wrong, Visconti? Run out of words?"

Livia forced a smile, but the warmth didn’t reach her eyes.

"I highly doubt it, Sainz. I’m professional. I’m not easily impressed."

Carlos studied her for a long moment, narrowing his eyes. Something in his gaze told her that, just like her, he was wrestling with thoughts he didn’t want to acknowledge.

"Not impressed?" he asked, a touch of challenge in his voice.

Livia raised an eyebrow, her response equally sharp.

"Don’t confuse your ego with something worth admiring, Carlos. I’m not like the other women who’ve fallen for your charms."

A tense silence filled the space between them. Carlos glanced away but couldn’t suppress a soft chuckle.

"Good to know, Visconti. I’m sure you’re not easily impressed. But I think you’re more like me than you care to admit."

Livia didn’t respond. She turned to the photographer, signaling that it was time to continue.

A tense silence settled between them. Carlos turned his gaze away but couldn't help noticing how the studio light reflected the sparkle in Livia's eyes, how her elegant figure seemed to challenge him with an intensity he hadn't expected. There was something about her that unsettled him, but he refused to admit it.

As the session continued, the atmosphere remained charged. Livia ordered an adjustment to the lighting, but she couldn’t stop feeling the heat radiating from him, the way his body moved with that unyielding, defiant energy. Every time their eyes met, something in her chest quickened, but she couldn’t allow it. You're not here for this, she reminded herself. You can't give in to what you're feeling.

Carlos, for his part, was beginning to feel the same frustration. She provoked him with her coldness, the way she looked at him as if he were just another piece in her game. And yet, he couldn’t stop noticing how something sparked inside him every time she challenged him. There was a spark of something more, something he couldn’t understand, but refused to accept.

Finally, after another tense exchange of glances, Carlos broke the silence.

"You don’t have to do this, you know?" he said, his voice carrying clear provocation. "I’m not a kid you need to control, Livia."

The challenge was clear in his tone, and she didn’t hesitate.

"Control you? I don’t have the time or patience to control anyone, Carlos. If you want to believe that, it’s your problem."

The photographer, unaware of the conversation, asked them to move closer for a more casual photo to publish on Casa Visconti’s social media. They positioned themselves, but the tension was palpable. Carlos's face showed a slight grimace of frustration, while Livia maintained her perfectly indifferent expression, although her hands were clenched against her side, betraying the discomfort she felt from the situation.

The camera captured the moment: two figures perfectly aligned, but with something much darker between them. A battle of wills, of egos, but also something deeper. Something neither of them wanted to acknowledge.

At the end of the session, Livia took a step back, breathing a little more heavily, feeling the burn of the tension between them. Carlos glanced at her one last time, and in that brief exchange of glances, both felt that something had shifted. But neither of them dared to admit it out loud.

"That’s enough," Livia said, her voice a little lower than usual, almost as if she was trying to calm herself.

Carlos observed her, his defiant smile finally fading into something that bordered on doubt.

"Sure, Visconti. But who knows... maybe I’ll surprise you too."

The comment, though laced with arrogance, didn’t hide the small crack of vulnerability in his words. Livia saw it, and for an instant, her gaze softened. But the next moment, she forced herself to keep her distance.

"Don’t make empty promises, Carlos," she responded firmly, though a brief flash of something else glinted in her eyes before she turned, grabbing her purse.

The clash between them was more evident than ever. But beneath that surface of confrontation, something nameless was beginning to take shape. Something neither they nor fate seemed willing to let go of.

The photo session ended, and Carlos, after posing and smiling as much as he could, seemed somewhat relieved to escape the attention of the cameras. He politely bid everyone farewell, and as he crossed the door, Livia watched him walk away with his usual confident stride and that aura of indifference he always managed to convey. But for a moment, she was left with an uncomfortable feeling in her stomach.

With a sigh, Livia turned to Marisa, who was rearranging some of the fabrics scattered around the studio, and saw how the dressmaker raised an eyebrow, clearly eager to comment.

"What?" Livia asked, already knowing that Marisa was about to drop one of her observations, the kind that always put her in the spotlight.

"Well, well," Marisa said in a playful tone. "You and Carlos, huh? You definitely make an interesting pair."

Livia quickly turned around, surprised by the comment, unsure if she was joking or not.

"What?" she responded, bewildered.

Marisa shrugged with a knowing smile.

"I'm just saying that if you ever decide to get out of 'professional mode,' I’d love to see that... show."

Livia looked at her with narrowed eyes, completely thrown off.

"Marisa..." she started, but couldn’t stop a faint blush from rising to her cheeks. What the hell did she just say?

Marisa walked off with a satisfied smile, as if she had just dropped a smoke bomb.

"I’ll leave it to your imagination, boss."

Taglist:

@smoooothoperator

(If you want to be added to the taglist, just let me know 💚)

index

[1004tyun-archive]

☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶ guidelines

✲ minors dni!! i take both sfw and nsfw requests but this is mainly an nsfw acc so if you're under the age of 18, do NOT follow or interact with this blog.

✲ i like a handful of other groups, but i only write for txt! (for now)

✲ i write afab!reader or fem!reader and i usually don't specify my reader characters' appearances unless it's chubby!reader

✲ big no-no's: no hybrids, gore, rape, dubcon/cnc, incest/stepcest, watersports, age gap (older!reader is fine within reason but pedo shit is a big no-no), ageplay/ddlg, pregnancy, or bloodplay. any requests of this nature will be deleted

✲ don't spam and please be patient! i’m a full time uni student with a job; i'll get requests out as soon as i can !

[ithaca-awaits]

"#love every time we made dave a question and he went all fanficcy #this one and the post-survival one" hello i have a BURNING need to know..... which post-survival question did he answer?

Hi! Sorry for the month-long delay in answering this! I don’t usually get asks on this account so I kept forgetting and say I’d answer as soon as I got to check Dave’s Q&As again, which I kept not being able to check. Anywho, the question I was referring to here was made by Liv on the Q&A session that took place on the 25th of June. You can find the complete recording and transcripts here (along with other fantastic fan-curated resources if you’re new to the fandom.)

Q: If the expedition had been rescued around, say, episode 8/9, and made it home, how do you think the various relationships that developed on screen would have fared back in ““civilization””? Would the intimacies some of these men formed between them persist? I’m also curious to know if you think any of them would resign from the Navy, be it for whatever reason: ethical, practical, physical, to explore other parts of themselves, etc.

I’m gonna try to be as brief as possible because Dave gave a very long response (find the non-abridged version in the link provided above), but this was the meat of it:

Crozier and Blanky would talk endlessly about quitting the Navy but only Crozier would. This doesn’t mean that Blanky would do this comfortably, as he’d already have survived two naval expeditions that turned out badly, so maybe he’d join a whaling ship, even if that would also have gotten under his skin.

He doesn’t think any of the surviving Lieutenants would have come back anywhere close to the poles, but he does think that most of them would have succumbed to the calling of fame and glory, i.e. wanting to return to the sea now that they had been named Commanders or Captains of their own vessels.

He’s not sure if Fitzjames would have been brave enough to stay aside of the Navy, even if during those three months he learnt a lot more about himself that what keeping the same persona for thirty years had brought him. He thinks Fitzjames would have written a “hell of a memoir” as well as a “hell of a military career, and that he would have stayed friends with Crozier, even if some of the things that happened in the Arctic would never have been mentioned again.

Goodsir would return to visit Silna “as often as possible.” Not for romantic reasons, but because there’d have been “a friendship there”. (also, taking into account he is making up all these scenarios after 8 or 9 the tuunbaq would have lived.)

“I think Bridgens and Peglar [smiles] would have worked like dogs to be able to afford some goddamn privacy where they could be together for the rest of their lives. [laughs]”

Pilkington and Des Voeux would have stayed friends.

“Little and Hodgson would be in one another’s lives.” They’d help each other patch themselves up after what happened because they’d both be in denial about everything that went down, helping create “a more palatable story about themselves”.

Sophia would feel like she’d have to choose between Lady Jane and Crozier and would chose the former, especially after the loss of her uncle.

Jopson would have stayed close to Crozier, they’d stay best friends for the rest of their lives.

Golding would commit suicide at some point, he was not equipped to deal with everything that happened and much less to go on living carrying it with him.

David Young’s ring would have been delivered to his sister. (with one of the crystal diamonds having fallen off during the journey.)

Mr Diggle would have been fine and stayed friend with some of the AB’s and midshipmen, but not with anyone else further up the hierarchy.

Collins would have lived a very quiet life, as most of what troubled him was PTSD.

Hartnell would have had a family and lived a quiet life. He’d have stayed close to Manson and from time to time he might have met with Crozier.

Hickey would have ended up in prison if he managed not to ger executed. If Tozer and him had ended up in the same prison they would have avoided each other for years, until they realized they were the one’s more suited for each other’s rest and protection. It’s tricky for Dave to say if they’d have become lovers because he is unsure about Tozer, but it’s prison so HE’LL LET US DECIDE. [ten seconds later he changed his mind] Tozer would have turned to Hickey for that kind of comfort and ended up murdering him, while Hickey convinced himself that he was the one letting himself be murdered. (This is already a very long ask, if you want more details on Hickey’s Vermont sex-cult, ping me and I’ll expand on it, because it was an answer from a different day and I don’t currently have it at hand.)

Gibson wouldn’t have wanted nothing to do with anyone. He might have found some new expedition or a house where he could work in as a domestic servant, but he wouldn’t have told anyone.

Hope this helped!

[knightofhylia]

Goddess Hylia Correspondences

I know we all got these, but here's mine

Animals - Shoebill, Owl, Dove, Eagle

Astrology - Virgo, Cancer

Beverage - Tea, Milk, Mead, Beer

Color - White, Gold, Silver, Purple, Sky and Navy blue

Crystals - Opalite, Amethyst, Citrine, Quartz, Selenite

Emotions - Joy, Inspired, Protective

Epithets - Silver Daughter

Flower - Grass Lily, Elfdock, Lilac

Food - Apple, Pumpkin, Bread, Soup

Herbs - Hyssop, Rosemary, Thyme, Pineapple Weed, Chamomile

Keywords - Faith, Hope, Purity

Month/Day - Triforce Tuesday

Meme -

Metal - Gold, Silver

Musical Expression - Classical strings, Harp, Easy Listening, Gospel, Choir Chamber

Number - N/A

Playlist - 🙏

Mythical Animal - Loftwing, Adar Rhiannon, Alkonost, Gamayun

Similar Deities - Holy Mary, Jesus, Archangel Michael, Guan Yin, Demeter, Iris, Ceridwen

Physical Expression - random smiling, light shining through trees, rocks and other items twinkle when she wants them, reactions to offerings in game

Sense - Sight, Justice

Symbol -

Appearance:

if you are interested in how I devotionally play totk check out this post!

[casino-lights]

So I wrote a love letter to the Wigmaker Job.

If you ever saw that snippet I posted with Illario putting on eyeliner and playfully roasting Lucanis, this is part one of that full fic! This is also the first meeting between Illario and Lidia. There's at least one swordfight, some rooftop parkour later, and perhaps most importantly, the Dellamortes fucking around at a party. A typical Saturday night for an Antivan Crow.

you can read some here or the full thing on ao3 here!

Somehow, Lucanis agreed to let his cousin help him again. Even after the mess the wigmaker job had become, he still buckled when faced with Illario’s knowing smile and a chant of please, cousin, think of all the fun we had last time! He had to admit, Illario’s presence did help time go by faster, and this job could require a lengthy wait. And besides, Lucanis couldn’t possibly keep his socialite cousin away from a ball in their home country even if he had refused.

So there he stood, dressed in the Antivan Crows interpretation of a sharp black suit, beside Illario as he peacocked in front of the mirror in the attic room they shared in the inn. Lucanis watched his cousin trace a finger along his own jawline, turning his face left and right, before smugly straightening his back and adjusting the collar of his navy brocade vest. He preened the sleeves of his silver silk shirt until they billowed just right, dangled the chain of his watch tantalizingly from his breast pocket, and fastened a feather-shaped, gem-set silver pin to the opposite lapel.

Lucanis sighed and turned away, pacing the room as Illario tightly lined his waterlines.

“You know, nothing says you can’t take pride in your appearance too,” Illario said, his voice deepened by the angle of his chin as he fanned out his eyelashes. “You could make those eyes stand out, maybe pick up more than just a target tonight, eh?”

“If you fuss over your face much longer, we won’t even get that far,” Lucanis muttered before fastening his cape to his shoulder with a silver crow skull clasp.

Illario scoffed. “Some of us actually like to display what the Maker gave us rather than hide it with that scruff you call a beard.”

“I think it suits me.”

“And I thought your jawline suited you, too, but clearly you disagreed.”

“I can still see it.” Allowing himself a smirk, Lucanis added, “You just hate that you never liked yourself with proper stubble.”

Illario rolled his eyes and turned away from the mirror. “Ah, but you did take my advice on the cape. Excellent. Shall we?”

“If you’ve finished admiring yourself, certainly.”

“I’m never finished admiring myself, cousin.” Illario winked and pulled on a pair of supple leather gloves stitched with silver thread. “But we should go before our ‘fashionably late’ becomes ‘actually late.’”

The inn was sparsely populated as they left, but the streets, as always, were bustling. Antiva City was always densely packed, especially at night, and despite the merchants’ ball being hosted nearby, plenty of people were still making their way through the district. Clearly, none of the expected guests were important enough to warrant shutting down even the nearest avenue.

As the Crows approached, they noted several carriages stopped outside the stately hotel hosting the ball. Lucanis nodded toward an especially luxurious one, lavishly decorated with purple curtains, gold trim, crystal drop ornaments, and oil lanterns.

“Our target?” Illario asked eagerly, subtly glancing into the carriage.

“Possibly.”

“You will tell me who we’re after eventually, won’t you?”

Lucanis hummed. “He’ll be upstairs in one of the state rooms. We can go up now or scan the ballroom for him - your choice.”

Illario sighed through his nose. “I would be better able to identify him if I knew who he was.”

“You never read my dossiers,” Lucanis complained. “Devi Santuono. Merchant prince - made his fortune selling jewelry to nobility, then married into it later. He deals in magical artifacts now, but he’s been known to sell fakes to less discerning clientele.”

“So… a mage?”

“Not according to my findings.”

Illario flashed a smile at the doorman as he followed Lucanis into the foyer. “Why hire the Demon of Vyrantium?” he asked, voice low enough and smile tight enough to avoid suspicion. “Seems a waste of your talents.”

“Perhaps. But Caterina mentioned a special request and a tidy sum.”

“Hmm. Upfront?”

“Upfront.”

A second doorman, guarding the entrance to the ballroom, checked their tickets and nodded at them approvingly. Illario thanked him as he held open the heavy doors for them, and they crossed the threshold into the warmly-lit, sweet-smelling room. The banquet had yet to be served, so the long tables were instead laden with punch, wine, and untouched porcelain plates, and the chairs sat mostly empty as the guests took the opportunity to mix and mingle.

Several of them turned to look at the Dellamortes as the doorman announced their pseudonyms. They resumed their conversations promptly thereafter, paying the two no mind as their chosen names were unremarkable in Antiva City’s merchant circles. Still, more than a few smiled back at Illario when he met them with his own dazzling grin.

Lucanis scanned the room, noting the many exits, clear sight lines, and profound lack of choke points. He saw no sign of the target so far, but the night was young and the crowd was thick. They had plenty of time.

Illario glided effortlessly through the ballroom, making his way toward an elven servant with fresh glasses of wine and punch on a tray. He collected a red and did a sweeping circuit of the ballroom before returning to Lucanis, and sipped his drink before frowning slightly.

“Hmm. Cheaper than I’d expect for such a nice ball.”

“Poisoned?”

Illario chuckled dryly. “It might taste better if it were.”

“No sign of the target,” Lucanis murmured as he scanned the room again. “And I think that woman over there is the passenger of the carriage we saw outside.”

Illario raised his eyebrows over the rim of his glass. “Oh?”

“Her crystal earrings and brooch match the carriage decor. Likely new money - perhaps even a client of our jeweler.”

After a swallow and another small grimace, Illario offered, “I can ask. Newly rich women love being asked who did their jewelry.” 

“Also, Lady Josephine Montilyet is here,” Lucanis added, casting his eyes toward an attractive woman in a striking lavender gown surrounded by at least half a dozen enraptured guests.

“I noticed,” Illario replied. “Looking especially lovely this evening, too.”

“And a fine draw for any wandering eyes.”

Illario barely contained a cough and smacked his lips quietly. “This gets worse with each sip.”

“Then stop drinking it,” Lucanis said with an irritated edge to his voice.

“I can’t make it obvious that I know better wines.” He drained the last of his glass in one large swallow before setting it down on the nearest table. “Here’s hoping the punch is better.”

Lucanis glared at him. “Don’t get drunk before we find Santuono.”

“Relax,” Illario soothed with an easy grin. “The evening has only just begun. Didn’t you say he’d be in his room? Why don’t we just slip out while everyone is enraptured by Lady Montilyet, kill our man, and be back in time for dinner?”

After a look in Josephine’s direction, and satisfied by the amount of attention she commanded, Lucanis nodded once, and he and Illario followed the wall to the nearest exit.

AO3

[the-travelling-witch]

i forgot i had self ship posts set up… they’re still work in progress but i’ll put some of the more worked on ones out throughout the day; then i’ll fill the gaps whenever they look presentable

[shanksbaby]

Aokiji-Kuzan- Betrayal (2)

pt 1 - after i watched the trailer of the new episode i got the motivation

after Kuzan, your old mentor, has appeared again from the hole that Garp had created, you stop and look at him motionless, noticing the scratches and traces of dirt on his clothes…The long hat mustv lost him in the hole…Despite how he looks, you still find him handsome…Immediately, however, you scold yourself for thinking about this during a rescue mission.

but the truth is that you can't see him as an enemy -- not after all those moments together, after he helped you, after all those moments that made you fall in love with him. His deep voice, however, interrupts these spiraling thoughts of yours.

“Y\N. You're here, too, I see,” he says in a detached voice, and you have to admit that you feel a pang in your chest; you're not used to this tone of his; as much as Kuzan was always an aloof type he always had that warm tone when he spoke to his subordinates, when he spoke to you.

“Kuzan-san please come back to us…Come back to the Navy, this is not your post,” you repeat yourself again trying to ignore his detached tone.

Blackbeard's Pirates meanwhile surround you, grins on their faces and swords and other weapons in their hands ready to pounce on you, and probably do more than just kill you.

“As I was telling Garp-san, I'm afraid I can't do that” he replies and then slowly approaches you ‘You're in my way’ and without giving you time to respond he throws ice crystals at you, about a dozen or so.

you try to dodge them and succeed fortunately, thanks to the speed of your sprint, however soon after you get a strong kick to the abdomen that literally sends you flying twenty meters from where the battle between the marines and the pirates is taking place.

in spite of the pain caused by the kick you get up though with difficulty, and you look up resting your gaze on the figure of your old mentor who looks at you sternly “This is not a playground, you shouldn't stay here…You are too weak”

that comment pissed you off: too weak? you trained day and night with koby and the others…and now he tells you that you are too weak? As if he could say that since he wasn't there. "I can assure you, I've improved" you say and then, thanks to your devil fruit that gives you the powers of air, you launch a wave of strong wind that hits him directly, sending him a few meters forward. You create a ball of concentrated wind and throw it at him, but he manages to avoid it.

This time he throws an ice sphere at you, just like Garp, trying to freeze you, but you avoid it and try to distance yourself because you know Kuzan's strength, you know that he has a terrifying physical strength, and you know that you would lose in a 1vs1 fight

you throw waves of wind at him: some manage to hit him, but Kuzan seems to only get a few scratches and dives at you. You try to quickly move away using your devil fruit power, managing to create distance, and in the meantime try to hit him.

but this turns out to be useless: suddenly he reaches you, first hitting you with a punch on the back of the neck, sending you flying for a few hundred meters.

"As I told you, you're too weak Y\N…You never had any hope, neither you nor the others here" he says approaching you calmly, his gaze never leaving your painful face "Why did you come?" he asks rhetorically

"Because I wanted to save Koby-kun and because…" you mutter, struggling to get up, "because I wanted to see you, I wanted you to return to the Navy. We miss you, Kuzan-san. You don't belong with people like Teach," you say with determination: after all, he was the most beloved of the admirals, all the soldiers love him.

"And what makes you think you know me? Are you so arrogant? You were just my subordinate"

another pang to the chest but you continue anyway, ignoring Kuzan's rhetorical questions "Come to the Sword, we can modify the marines from the inside, with you in the ranks more marines will join".

your old mentor sighs, and shakes his head, moving even closer "Oh, Y\N. you are too naive" and now that you see him close you can notice in his eyes a veil of sadness and regret, as if what he was about to do saddens him, you don't understand what until you feel his arms tighten around you and his voice murmur an I'm sorry.

and so in less than a few seconds you are frozen, not having had the time to confess your feelings for him..A wave of regret floods you too.

taglist: @stellasloth @peterdabestasseater