#layer three: bargaining

[a-static-grief]

H-huh!? What!? Doot..???

... Ohohoho..!! An Apocalypse, you say? ■]

[The interactorrrrrrr (I'm sorry)]

[strialternatives]

bonus:

:inhales and slams hands on the desk: akechi. palace. pitch.

disclaimer: the setting for this is all about vibes and aesthetics, it kinda got away from me when i started hashing out the plot around it two months ago so now we're here. in hell. (i'll probably have to make a secondary post i made wayyy too many concepts,)

yes i made an ost for this idea, here is a youtube playlist of chill european jazz

AU details under the cut-

Akechi Goro's palace is "Ampitheatrum Doloris”.

KEYWORDS: Akechi Goro, Tokyo Highcourt, Amphitheater

Akechi's psyche is a massive collection of locked doors, puzzles, and contradictions. He wants to be seen but not understood—heard but never known, ect. This makes his palace infiltration a waking nightmare (affectionate).

His palace is made up of five main layers. They each mirror a stage of grief:

1) There is the outer layer of with the appearance of a Venice-esque water canal maze, there is a door that must be opened to reach the entrance to infiltrate the second layer underneath the amphitheater. The puzzle's actually pretty sentimental and revolves around Akechi's interest in literature.

(This layer is depression, Goro mourns what he lost and the fact that the choices he made for the sake of revenge ultimately led to nowhere. This is reflected in how desolate/meandering the outer layer feels, it is the largest and most time consuming part of the palace for this reason. It takes weeks to finish. AKA, Akira and Morgana have a terrible, no good, very bad month of May.) 

2) The Labyrinth under the amphitheater; it is full of shadows for the arena champion to use as fodder for the enjoyment of the masses. ‘Loki’ resides here—this layer’s theme loosely plays on the Minotaur myth. 

The only way to escape is through a pulley/elevator mechanism which leads to the surface after shattering the Champion’s chains by force. Loki taunts in Old Norse, but gives Akira (and the party by extension) genuine hints on how to escape.

(This layer is anger, Goro is always angry, about the hand he’s been dealt, the futility of his own actions, and the fact that his life has always been a dead end, written in the stars.)

3) The Audience Stands; full of human cognitions and Akechi’s former clients and fans, despite everything, like Sae, he sees them as ‘people’ and is disgusted by them. Their compliments are shallow and empty, surface level like Goro’s facade. Cognition Sae is delegated to a middle manager-type role, and leads Akira and Co. through puzzles.

Different cognitions from Akechi’s shitshow of a childhood throw riddles based around philosophy and the nature of justice at the party, if the answer is ‘wrong’, there’s a mini-boss fight. Answering everything correctly yields a prize—a key, this process is made difficult by all of Robin’s ‘hints’ (which the Thieves can directly ask for) being lies.

(Bargaining. Goro always thought he could still salvage his revenge despite his enemy being essentially invincible, even now deep down he thinks he can salvage all the effort and sacrifices he put in.)

4) The Stage; Robin Hood appears proper instead of in cameo appearances, this is the lead actor's stage. To earn the right to stand with him, Akira has to have to prove his worth in one-on-one combat while showing the crowd a rousing show. The goal is to use the key obtained in the bargaining layer to unlock the Performer's cuffs.

(Denial, Goro doesn’t believe he needs or deserves saving or a life outside of his revenge, he believes there is no other way forward.)

Hereward and the 'treasure' are in the Imperial box area, which I'll save for part 2 of this I think! The second half of this'll have less focus on the environments and more on general plot and character design.

EDIT: here's part two and part three

[104cadetlauren]

Levi’s Eye Panel in Chapter 132 Shows the Stages of Grief—Except Acceptance

If you're a Levihan shipper like me, you already know the infamous scene between Hange and Levi in Chapter 132, or what we collectively call “Levi’s goodbye and Hange’s sacrifice.”

The most memorable moment in that chapter is Levi giving Hange the modified Scout salute. But what I want to focus on is Levi’s eyes. His eyes were drawn in three distinct panels, which, to me, means Isayama wanted us to feel Levi’s inner turmoil. Each panel expresses a different emotion—and what amazed me is that the anime added/changed the final panel.

If you notice, the anime version conveys the same emotional weight—except for one detail: the scrunched nose (attached on the coming paragraphs). That small change, for me, added a different layer. In the manga, it was despair. In the anime, it felt like… anger. And that shift gave us a new perspective.

So I placed the panels side by side, and what resonated with me was how they mirrored the stages of grief—except acceptance.

A quick psychology note: the five stages of grief are denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. These stages can vary in order and intensity depending on the person.

Let’s go back to Levi’s eye panels.

The eye panel happens after Hange says, “So just let me walk away.”

Her words sounded like an order—firm and final. There was no convincing her otherwise. That’s how it came across to Levi. They refused to look at each other, but if you pay attention to Hange’s eyes, she’s scared. She doesn’t want to die, and she doesn’t want to leave Levi behind.

We all know what Hange looks like when she's obsessed with Titans—excited, animated. This wasn’t that. This was fear disguised as courage. But she could never fool Levi.

Now look at the manga panels (Right to Left): to me, they look like Bargaining. Depression. Denial.

And the panel added in the anime? That’s ANGER. The fury of a man who has lost too much to cry.

Remember the nose scrunch I am talking about that is not in the three panels above?

Now let’s try to digest each stage of grief through Levi’s eyes based on how I interpreted them. (This is deep headcanon territory—so you’ve been warned.)

Bargaining (laced with regrets)

Is there any other way?

Should I stop her?

What if I stayed behind instead? Could I buy us more time? Think—there must be another way. I can’t lose the last person I truly care about. Why does everything I touch die?

We can almost hear the chaos in his mind. Bargaining is desperation dressed as strategy. Levi’s a soldier. He’s trained to assess, recalculate, find alternatives. But in this moment, his calculations are just grief trying to negotiate with fate.

And Levi, in that instant, is willing to offer himself.
But deep down, he knows—Hange won’t let him. She’s already chosen.

If I wasn’t injured, maybe I could do it.
If I were faster. Stronger. If I hadn’t made so many damn mistakes.

Bargaining isn't always with God—it’s often with yourself. It's guilt trying to rewrite the past. It’s the need to trade something, anything, to undo the inevitable.

And he respects her too much to strip that choice away.

Depression

Paralyzed. Defeated.

Levi can’t move. He’s stuck. All he hears is the rumble of the approaching Colossal Titans. The ticking clock.

Why am I still alive?

What’s the purpose of being here, existing and surviving if I just kept on losing the people I care about. Kuchel, Petra, Olou, Erwin, My Squad, and now Hange. For the freedom of humanity, yes, what does that mean really? Is surviving and choosing humanity worth all the pain I suffered? I hope so…

If only I wasn’t injured, we wouldn’t be in this situation where I have to lose someone again.

If I wasn’t injured, I could’ve fought—either instead of her, or at least alongside her. Why?

Denial

Levi knows Hange doesn’t want to die.

Imagine spending years protecting this one person. (Even if you're not a shipper, let's agree that after Hange lost her left eye, Levi is always seen standing on her right—call it platonic or romantic, it's protection.) He even pauses during missions just to check on her. Now, that same person is ordering him to let her walk to her death and he was supposed to just accept it.

Levi’s inner turmoil:

We had hope. We could’ve flown the plane.

We could’ve stopped Eren in time.

Why is this happening now? Why do I have to choose again—Why does it always come down to this? This is too much, I refuse to accept this.

Then the added anime panel:

ANGER

Have I not sacrificed enough?

Will her death finally mean something?

What the hell was it all for?

If I let her walk away… will we be free then?

This isn’t hot, screaming rage we used to see in Levi. It’s quiet and suffocating. The kind that eats you alive. It’s not directed at Hange. It’s directed at the world. At himself. At the cruel cycle of sacrifice and survival.

Why am I even called “Humanity’s Strongest” if I can’t save a single one of them?

Then, the panels move away from his eyes. We don’t see them when he gives the modified salute and says, “Dedicate… your heart.” Notice the ellipsis. The pause. We can assume it was hesitation.

The eye panel missing here, I believe, is acceptance. Because Levi doesn’t really accept it—not in that moment at least. But he has to let Hange believe he does. He pretends to accept it without looking at her. He doesn’t want her to see the pain. He doesn’t want her to regret her decision. He respects her, her resolve, her sacrifice.

Or maybe—he refuses to look at her because he can’t. He knows he’ll break if he does. He doesn’t have the willpower to watch her walk away. And maybe the salute was acceptance, in its own way. Like, this is it. It’s too late. But I want you to know how I really feel.

I know it won’t change anything. But I heard you, back in the forest. I’m letting you go. My heart is yours. Do what you want with it. Trample it. Reject it.

But if you can… please come back alive.

So that’s my how I interpreted Levi’s detailed eye panel in the manga and the anime. Tell me what you think, let’s exchange ideas!

-Lauren

[stellewriites]

my silver tongue, your golden eyes

female space pirate!gaz x reader

“let me go and we can forget all about this,” you bargained, voice shakier than you’d have preferred given the situation.

you were cornered down a dark alley and a wild-eyed man blocked the other end, slowly making his way closer, panting and grinning as he too noticed your predicament. trapped.

you’d incorrectly deemed him an easy mark and slipped your hand in his bag before disappearing - or so you’d thought.

the man had given chase quicker than anticipated and was faster than his broad frame indicated he would be, but you were faster, if only because you knew the area well and had the best shortcuts memorised. you’d known what direction you needed to head in to lose him, but the hairs on the back of your neck had raised several times during the escape and sent you in opposite directions instinctively; you must have slipped up when getting turned around and taken a wrong turn at some point leading you to this dead end.

the wall behind you was too high for you to climb but you didn’t back yourself flat against it either even as the threat loomed closer, you left room just in case you became desperate enough to try and scale it and needed the small run up.

“give me what you stole,” the man said, a scottish lilt dragging his words long and low. he held out his hand and curled his fingers in a come hither motion.

“think you’ll remember i gave that back earlier in our little chase back that way,” you nodded over his shoulder. the golden sphere - the map - was heavy and you’d thrown it at his head to try and lose his tail when he’d gotten a hair too close. he’d ducked out of the way, but hesitated chasing you to look back at where it landed, which gave you a leg up in the hunt. he didn’t stop to pick it up, like you’d hoped, but a few seconds was better than nothing.

and losing the star map wasn’t a total loss, it was one of many like it and it hadn’t been what you were after anyway. what went inside and where that could lead you was what made it worth anything.

“aye, almost took mah other eye out,” he said with a huff of a laugh, his fingertips pulled at the thin skin under his left eye to reveal more of the bionic replacement. solid, smooth gold until it flickered to your right for a moment and revealed the edge of the grey steel inner workings.

you took a half step back as he continued to steadily gain ground.

“so you’ll remember i don’t have what you want,” you insisted hotly taking another step.

you froze at the feeling of a blaster press against your ribs; it was a familiar enough feeling that you knew not to continue to run your mouth for a minute. the heat of the muzzle singed your jacket as its power core surged and bubbled - ready to use. it would’ve been burning against your skin, you had the scars to prove it, but was just uncomfortable through your current layers.

a soft, female voice hummed in your ear. “let’s not play dumb now, eh, beautiful?”

you shifted carefully to look over your shoulder and caught a glimpse of dark eyes and a sparkling smile.

“listen, i dont know what you think i took—“

“this-“ she reached over your shoulder and down your loosely tied shirt, her chilly fingers brushing along your cleavage until she pulled out the small vial you’d stored between your breasts as you’d ran. “-is what im after.”

she held the vial over your shoulder so it was in view of all three of you; small, hexagonal and full of what looked like white sand - stardust from the planet you were desperate to get to. she let out a heavy, breathy chuckle against your ear and you shuddered as her warm breath fanned down your neck and over your exposed collarbone. your skin prickled pleasantly and you snarled at the cocky smirk on the man’s face opposite you.

“she’s got quick fingers, gaz,” the man said.

“hm. my type of woman.” gaz pushed the blaster further into your side until you winced. “don’t think i’ve forgiven her yet though. march. follow him.”

“no funny business, lass,” he called out as he led the way out of the dank alleyway, looking both ways as he peeked around the brick before waving you both forward. he continued to talk over his shoulder. “i saw the way ye favour yer right side. don’t even think a’ using that leg canon.”

gaz knocked her ring clad knuckles against your left thigh and grinned when it echoed back a dull clang.

“you don’t have to do this. i can be on my way, you’ll never see me again,” you tried to bargain with lies again as she ducked close to hide the gun plastered to your side and to keep you from slipping out of their grasp between the busy crowds on the way back to the dock.

“s’funny, you seem to be under the impression im asking. that’s my fault,” she tsk’d. “you are coming with us, gorgeous. the only question is are you gonna come easy or am i going to have to carry you over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes?”

you swallowed thickly and didn’t think about that proposition for too long lest it distracted you. her arms were bare, muscles on show given her well worn waistcoat and lack of shirt, so you had no doubt she’d at least attempt to carry you. but you had more pressing matters to think about at that moment.

as you passed the smaller crews and walked up to her docked ship your heels began to dig in, reality setting in like a punch to the gut as you took in the size of it.

these were no run of the mill, petty criminals you’d crossed paths with.

“johnny, go check on the cargo, see how much is left to store,” gaz ordered and the man, johnny, jogged ahead.

no, you thought with growing panic. going by the amount of masts you could count and the dark sails tied to them, the size of the engines rumbling softly to keep the ship stationary, and the busy crew heading up and down the floating ramp, you’d fucked over a pretty important pirate.

you prided yourself on keeping your ear to the ground and knowing the biggest players in the game, and yet this woman matched no description or wanted poster you’d come across.

it worried you. the unknown was trickier to traverse and talk your way out of than even the worst of pirates you’d stumbled into.

“this is yours?” you asked as gaz kicked at your feet, getting you moving quicker again as johnny practically skipped up the ramp, a big grin splitting his face as he bumped shoulders with a behemoth of a man carrying a large crate.

“mm. for the time being,” she said noncommittally as you boarded the ship.

the crew, an amalgamation of all kinds of species, nodded to her as she passed by with you in tow, but you kept your head ducked low to avoid further confrontation.

she sat you down on the steps leading to the helm of the ship and raised an eyebrow at you when you huffed and glared at the rough treatment.

“spit it out then, good looking, how do you know about the map and the key?” she asked, blaster still held loosely in her hand, though hanging by her side and no longer actively aimed at you.

you eyed up the route back to the dock, you could try to sprint it but it wouldn’t be a clean run.

she snapped her fingers in front of your face. flinching your gaze back up to her you sighed through your nose at her unimpressed stare.

“my brother,” you started reluctantly. your eyes drifted without permission, flighty and nervous as your gaze trailed over her form, the ship, the crates and crew, the deep sky opposite the direction of the dock. “he joined a crew that were boasting about it in our home town. said they were looking for new crew members to search for it and share the wealth.”

gaz snorted and you looked down, embarrassed, tensing your jaw.

“it was a long time ago, we were both young. he didn’t know any better, just wanted to give us a better chance,” you whispered defensively. “but he never wrote. and he promised he would.”

“so you’re trying to find him,” gaz finished off for you, nodding along.

“for years i’ve followed the rumours, stories i thought maybe could be him, and they brought me here. i hoped i’d maybe bump into him along the way, hear his name spoken at least.”

“have you?”

“no.” you laughed, an empty and self deprecating sound. “i don’t even know what he looks like anymore.”

gaz looked you up and down, pausing for a moment back on your face as her own expression grew contrite.

“fuck it, it’s what cap would do,” she mumbled to herself. she tucked her blaster back into its holster. “right. you’ve convinced me; i’ll bring you along if you do as your told.”

you shook your head, a frown creasing your forehead.

“i’m fine on my own, i don’t want to owe you anything,” you protested.

“too late for that, handsome, you already stole from me once.” she cupped your chin with a grin and bent at the waist to lean close. “you’ll have to make it up to me to get back in my good graces, yeah?”

you yanked your chin out of her loose hold and shoved at her shoulder with both arms while her centre of gravity was off, tipping her into an unsuspecting crew-mate that was walking by.

in a flash you were up and running across the deck, a fierce grimace on your face as you slipped by the others, too late to realise they needed to stop you.

a hand around your wrist yanked you to a stop mere feet from the ramp and you swung back blindly, instinctively, hitting johnny squarely in the nose and managing to escape his grip.

“fucking— sweet mary and joseph!”

you stumbled back and twisted to get a good running start again, but you’d barely made two steps before you came face to face with the behemoth you’d spotted with johnny earlier.

though face to face wasn’t accurate; carrying a large crate in his arms, he unfolded his second pair from his sides to clothesline you without dropping the crate and sent you sprawling at his feet with a wheezing cough.

you blinked the stars from your eyes and rolled onto your side to try and ease the pain and struggle to pull a breath back into your empty lungs.

“good job, ghost,” you heard gaz say as she strolled up to stand over you. you were tempted to spit at her boots, but you couldn’t suck in the breath necessary to send the spit flying. instead you wheezed in a thin breath and looked up; wishing you hadn’t when she flashed that insufferably bright and smug grin. “i think we’ll have fun, you and me,” she said. “if price were here he’d have liked you too.”

“liked knocking some manners into her maybe,” ghost grunted before heading off to pile the crate with the rest. you didn’t see him stop by johnny’s side first, one hand reaching up to chuck his chin to check the damage or the pleased little smile he gave under the tied handkerchief as you hacked a racking cough as you tried sitting up.

gaz smiled placidly and squatted to your level.

“he’s right. you’re lucky we’ve not found him yet or you’d be dealing with more than a few bruises and the wind knocked out of ya for that.” she tilted her head and smiled a little weakly. “who knows, maybe he’s with your brother right now. seems like the kind of luck i’d have.”

she grabbed you non too gently by the elbow and pulled you up, practically dragging you to the captain’s room as you struggled to gain your footing. she slapped your back once and you sucked in a wet breath, then she rubbed your back soothingly over your jacket and shirt and closed the door to the private room behind you.

through watery eyes you looked at the half used room; the bed a mess of unmade sheets but the clothing drawers and chests seemingly unopened and untouched.

she pushed you down next to the desk while you were distracted and you hissed.

“stop pushing me around,” you huffed. she smirked.

“be good and sit still on that ample arse of yours,” she mumbled and opened a drawer in the desk. she rooted around and when she came up empty she opened a second drawer before finding what she was after with a small, ah hah!

before you could ask her what she wanted, she had cuffed your wrist to the closest leg of the desk.

you rattled the thick iron cuff and squirmed at her feet.

“couldn’t get the comfier set?” you complained, rubbing at the soft skin of your wrist beneath the rusting metal.

johnny and ghost walked in and you glared automatically, embarrassment at your position heating your cheeks. ghost ignored you but johnny, with dark, dried blood smeared under his nose and dribbled down his chin and neck, scowled back at you.

“laser ones cost, lovely,” gaz answered half distractedly as she cleared a space on the desk. “those can’t be so easily cracked open either. can’t imagine you have a lock pick in your boot but i know something in that leg of yours could disrupt weak little laser cuffs. i’ll let you go later, the key’s somewhere in here.” she tapped the desk.

gaz didn’t wait for you to reply and pulled the map key from her own hidden pocket and nodded at ghost to set the metal ball down on the desk. once he’d put it down, he leant over the desk with two hands flat on the wood and the other two on his hips. they ignored you, sat below them, and the angle you’d been chained meant you couldn’t subtly look to see what they were doing.

gaz pushed the hexagonal tube into the aligning hole in the spherical map, watching as it began to turn on its own as it got sucked in deeper to the centre. eventually only the cap was visible and it laid perfectly flat against the rest of the metal, imperceptible as a separate piece.

they waited a moment with baited breath and you watched gaz’s expression to gauge what was happening.

you heard the map click and a flash of blue light flickered over her soft face; you heard johnny swear.

“cursed skies above,” he rumbled with a gasp. “is that—?”

“yeah, i think so.” gaz nodded faintly.

“and you think he got there himself?” ghost asked. “without the key?”

“if price will be anywhere, its there,” gaz said firmly. her hand lifted delicately to pass through the light of the 3D map floating between them. her fingers danced along the plotted stars, the route they’d need to take to find john. “key or not, i know in my bones that’s where we’ll find him.”

ghost nodded and straightened up as johnny continued to stare at the map dancing along gaz’s hand before she dropped it and firmed her shoulders.

“we set off at the next toll of the bell. get the crew ready,” gaz said.

“aye, cap,” the pair of them answered, synchronised. you saw how gaz winced at the title but she nodded nonetheless.

you shut your slack mouth with a clack when she looked down at you.

“ready for an adventure, pretty?”

[fan-goddess]

‘His ceremonies laid by, in his nakedness he appears but a man’

A/N: Surprise! I'm making this a strange sort of drabble like series with Aemond and dragonseed! This title is long af but the quote so fits I love/hate it! It ain’t entirely fully proofread so errors may pop up I may correct later fyi

Warnings: Smut, dragonseed is back and unnamed as ever, brothel working, sex working, not dark!Aemond but clingy at nonetheless! (If I miss any let me know!)

Taglist: @humanpurposes, @watercolorskyy, @omgbrcat @blue-serendipity @arcielee

Series Thing Masterlist

The men you were hired to please in the nicest of terms were always much older and sweaty than you, as if they had competed in two tourniments before arriving. Though the likelihood that they had even competed in one throughout their lifetimes was slimmer than they had even been.

The young men were always given to the more older, experienced ladies for their teachings, or so the brothel madam would sometimes laugh as the young lads were dragged by their hands to a room beyond the main hall. It was a rare time whenever a younger looking man would specifically request a more younger lady, as the older the men were the younger the ladies sent to their assigned room became.

That day, you had already been paid for by three men whose skin dripped in exhausted sweat and stained the covers of the bed with a mixture of their bodily fluids. By the time night came around though, the brothel bellow became heaving with men of all ages, a familiar head of short silver locks came bounding through them with a practised ease.

His voice rang through the crowd staring at the breasts of the ladies he was offered by the Madame. Yet when he looked up to the balcony ledge where you were perched watching the sights bellow, he stopped where he had stood, and pointed with a fierce look in his eye that you knew all too well in a man.

The look of a predator who has caught sight of fresh game, and is ready to begin the hunt of the night.

The eldest son of the king, the boy whispered by all to become the future king of the seven kingdoms of course choosing to ignore with hated stares his elder sister, points a finger to you and by the way his lips move you know he has demanded a reduced price.

He may have more money than all the men in the room combined but even he knows like any poor man how to strike the right sort of bargain for a better price.

That night, you were bought and fucked by a Targaryen for the first time in your life. A service that used to be an honour to the highest of all for whores, or at least it was before the Targaryen men became too indifferent to their flesh of the night.

It appeared the once well known hunger of purpled eyed silver haired flesh has trickled down to its last generation, as the man who’d left his spent to trickle down your thighs gave no indication that he desired you particularly for your hair or for your eyes.

He barely even looked at you as he forcibly took you from behind and pushed your face into the thin sheets that had yellowed in age.

He even left as soon as he came, quite literally, as by the time you looked around the door was swung open and the overwhelming stench of alcohol remained pungent. It appeared this young Prince had a thin layer of wine on his skin instead of the usual stench of overwhelming sweat.

You did not see the recognisable sight of silver locks for quite some time after that. Many a nights were you forced to look away to the window as men of all hair but silver took you on the bed you fucked to keep. Yet they were no different from the eldest prince at all. They all had only the idea of completion in mind.

Which you suppose was why it was so shocking when the infamous one-eyed Prince came to the brothel in search of a women to warm his cock, and laid a single eye on you as you stood oblivious on the same balcony you had stood on when you were chosen by his brother.

It was like a strange sick dream when you saw the younger Prince refuse to take his eye off you as he bargained a price with the Madame. Again, he too knew how to strike a deal similarly to his eldest acknowledged sibling.

When the Prince finally entered your chambers and met eyes with your naked form sitting on the bed awaiting to be told the orders, it was made quite quickly to you that the One-Eyed Prince was not like a regular laying customer.

Yet he still had his regular moments it seems, as while he managed to humanise your body, he still found a way to objectify your soul.

The Prince uses you like any other man would, and yet he still somehow manages to find a way to make you feel mortal.

While he takes you, he has you on your back and his eye looking deeply into your own. A single hand of his stroking the left side of your face while a thumb catches on the edge of your lips.

Even after spilling his spent of the skin of your stomach, he explains he cannot dare father a bastard and bring the shame to his already soiled family legacy. Going as far as to grab a lone stained cloth from somewhere in the room to mop up his cooled down spent away and throws someplace random.

The one-eyed Prince stays with you the whole of that night and morning, something you could easily say was a first in your working career.

His head lays on your overworked thighs that twitch randomly in patterns even he with his highly educated mind cannot comprehend. But he does not complain at all, instead only burrowing further into your overwhelming warmth you subconsciously provide him with.

You dare not to say anything as you place a hand on his head and thread your fingers through his hair, waiting with baited breath as his lets out a tired sigh and wraps his arms around your body tighter.

When your fingertips catch on the rough leather of his patch you do not dare take it off in fear of being caught in the familiar feeling of a dragons rage. So you merely ghost your hand over it and he does not make a disapproving sound.

He reminds you heavily of a child craving a mother’s affection, even though you know he has one waiting no doubt anxiously for him in his own chambers back up at the castle. Yet it appears the prince lives in a strange limbo of ignorant bliss, as you can feel his eyelashes brush lightly against the skin of your thigh as he closes his eye, and not a minute later you can feel his bodies breath even out as he begins drifting away.

The One-Eyed Prince falls asleep against your naked spent body, and you can only force your body to relax as your eyes shut tightly and sleep to not come at an easy price. For that night as the Prince rests by the base of your stomach, dreams fill your head of overwhelming fire and blood comes storming down around you.

At the end of your dream mere seconds before you are awoken by the grumbling child, a two eyed man with features mimicking yours holds a sword angled to the base of your throat and sneers at you, before allowing the blade to swing you with heavy cost.

[op-dumpstertruck]

Ahh I sent that before I was done!!! Do you also have a timeline of events? I love that you jump around but it is a little confusing >~<

Oh yeah, I know, oopsie! Since I had that question a few times I'll try to give you a timeline under the cut, but I'm really not a writer:

Sanji leaves Germa as a kid, deeply insecure about being an omega. Sora tried to hide it first, but when it came out Judge was furious. It adds an extra layer of disdain he has for Sanji in this AU; but it was also the only thing that increased his value somehow, in Judges eyes. I think even as young as he was, Sanji did realise that whatever the plans were Judge might have had for him, they were.. not good at all. Omegas don't really exist on Germa, but if they do, they are seen, not heard. Even as a kid Sanji heard some really degrading, overtly sexist comments from his brothers. When he ran away, Sanji learned to hide that part of himself.

Zeff definitely knows, but he's the only one that does. Sanji is a extremly skittish kid when it comes to that, that alone has cost Zeff years of his life (he worries all the time, but they also never talk properly). Worldbuilding wise, I think male omegas are very, very rare. In the context of how the cooks talk to each other, Sanji definitely has heard a lot of very crude jokes about himself.

As old habits die hard, Sanji didn't tell the crew when he joined. With scent suppressants he easily seems like a beta - and even if they run out here and there (which he desperately tries to avoid) with all the smoking he does you can barely smell him anyway.

Zoro and Sanji happened. Neither of them expected that.

Zoro knows Sanji is an omega, probably even long before they got together, I'm not completely sure yet. He's the first one to know and is the only one that does for a long time - Kureha didn't tell Chopper on Drum Island, but he'll eventually be the next one to know.

Sanji gets pregnant (to his own horror) and has to deal with that. Because they are actually functioning quite well at this point as a couple (who would have thought) Sanji tells Zoro as soon as he suspects what's up. They find out together, but don't immediately tell the crew, since they are unsure how to proceed.

thriller bark happens and Sanji looses his mind in the aftermath for a hot minute. (he'll eventually tell the crew in the aftermath.)

close to sabody and marineford (or parallel to it) Sanji gets kidnapped. Omegas are often sold into slavery there, so the crew is on the wrong track for quite a while. As other things are happening simultaneously, and plot happens, the strawhats are sweeped up in chaos. (I might come back to those details later)

the world is made to believe that Sanji died. It is Judges doing, but the timeline plays into his hands: it fits the narrative of the navy retaliating and punishing the strawhats for both what happened at Enies-Lobby and marineford perfectly. Since the strawhats don't know about Sanjis family, they fall for it.

Kuina is born in Germas prison. Sanji does everything he can to convince Judge to keep her alive. He knows Judge has plans for him and threatens to kill himself, should Judge do anything to her. She continues to be the bargain chip through the next few years, to make Sanji to comply to do things. They don't even need to threaten Zeff here.

Sanji gets married off. It's not a happy marriage, but of big political interest for Judge. (This time, there is no one to stop the wedding.)

Kid two and three are born (I don't know their names yet).

It takes them nearly nine years, but Reiju and Sanji get Kuina out and send her on a journey to find the crew. Sanji doesn't see her for more than a year, before the strawhats are back and all hell breaks loose.

[sleepystarryskies]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ Nat isn’t quite sure how to deal with the cold, and when her favourite comfort isn’t available to her she feels younger than normal, Lottie has to figure out how to distract her from that fact and warm her up.

{ notes- this is my very first time writing a oneshot so i hope you enjoy it !! this is also a gift for @cryingatwindermerepeaks thank you for all your contributions towards the yellowjackets agere tag !! includes cg!lottie, regressor!nat, use of pacifiers, mentions of nats trauma relating to the cold.}

word count- 1.4k

“There you are.” Lottie’s voice manages to squeeze itself into the tiny space between the coatrack and the shelf where they keep the outdoor shoes. When Nat moves the arm of her fur coat, she can spot the light pink fabric of Lottie’s pyjama bottoms creasing as she kneels in front of her hiding spot.

The weather had been getting colder again, windows frosted over when they woke in the early mornings, and cardigans worn over their sleep shirts. Nat had never minded the winter before the crash- the cold was merely an inconvenience due to the trailer not being able to keep out the cold- but in Lottie’s house, the warmth from the heaters kept you feeling safe until you had to leave.

Things had been piling up over the past week, Nat had tripped on a walk- earning her a scraped knee and cold palms, Lottie had to leave and go out of town for three days which left her to return to her Mother’s trailer with her tail between her legs- even if she had been told she was welcomed in the Matthew’s home whilst Lottie was away, she had been too nervous to stay on her own in that big house.

Then the worst thing had happened: Nat had dropped Rusty the raccoon into the sink while trying to help by washing the dishes. Lottie wasn’t mad at her; she never was, but she had insisted that Rusty needed to get a wash before Nat could play with him again. That was fine, she had managed to convince herself, she could hold out on regressing until she got her stuffie back safe and sound- at least she thought so until one of the butlers had left the back door open and had chilled the entire house.

Lottie had known about Nat having to brace the cold every day during that first winter with Travis, and then when the second rolled around, she had been the one to climb the snowy mountain all on her own. She knew Nat struggled with the cold; usually on her bad days, she would stay curled up in her bed with Rusty in one arm and a hot water bottle in the other. But this time, Rusty wasn’t anywhere to be found.

“Can you scoot yourself out a little, please?” Nat couldn’t think of anything worse, her cheeks felt warm from the array of coats and jackets surrounding her, and she could smell Lottie’s perfume on the more furry coats. “Just so I can see your smiley face, bug.”

“S’ cold.” Lottie can hear the frown through her words, she’s quiet in a way that would tell Lottie that she had regressed if she hadn’t been able to tell by her hiding away in the mudroom. “Don’t want to go outside.”

“I know, baby.” Lottie tries to reason with her- it’s not the usual approach she would have to take, when Natalie regressed she never had to be bribed or bargained with, she always strived to please. “You don’t have to go outside, I promise, nobody’s going out there. It’s getting warmer now, but you’ve been hiding away for so long in there, I doubt you can feel it.”

Nat must shuffle, or adjust her arms, because Lottie now has a full view of her, sitting curled up with her knees to her chest, her thumb switching between getting chewed on and slipping into her mouth. Her heart breaks a little bit seeing just how small she looks- Nat rarely regresses this young, and it always strikes Lottie just how tiny she can look.

“‘M sorry.” Nat’s lip begins to wobble in a way that makes Lottie want to swaddle her up in countless layers of blankets and never let her go ever again. She sounds exhausted and scared more than anything else. “I’m just really cold.”

“You don’t have to be, everything’s alright, I promise you.” She sticks her arms into the midst of hanging clothes, letting Nat grab at her warm hand and rub it against her cheek like she does with the ear of her raccoon- though this only seems to refresh her memory.

“But-“ Nat shakes her head just before she begins to shuffle herself out, finally looking up at her caregiver with big, teary eyes. “But Rusty’s gone, can’t find him.”

“Oh baby, he’s in the dryer, remember?”

“All alone?” That thought alone seems to panic her, a whine escapes her pitifully as she releases Lottie’s hand to rub at the few tears that have fallen at the realisation she’s left her best friend all alone in the scary dryer.

“He won’t be in there for long.” She feels stuck; she needs Nat to come out from her hiding space without causing her more panic, but her stuffie’s only just been put into the dryer and will still be another fifteen minutes. “How about we go and check on Rusty? And if he isn’t quite dry enough, then Mama can do her magic trick to get him all warm and ready for you?”

Nat blinks at her for a moment, the mix of reassurances and Lottie referring to herself as ‘Mama’ clearly had thrown her into a deeper headspace than normal. But before Lottie can backtrack, Nat gives a nervous nod before beginning to shuffle towards her whilst taking her still extended hand.

“Good job, Sweetheart.” She sighs out, and once Nat manages to squeeze her way fully out, Lottie has no issues pulling Nat into her arms once she’s standing, holding the regressed girl against her front.

Nat lets out a small whine at the cold air inside the mud room, burying her face in the warm silk of Lottie’s shoulder until she feels the warm air from the rest of the house and is sure they aren’t going anywhere near the outdoors.

The rest of the house has all warmed up, the fireplaces all lit and flooding the house with both warmth and the comforting smell which takes her back to the first winter in the cabin- luckily, the smell has never triggered Natalie at all. The laundry room is warm enough to rid the goosebumps on Natalie’s skin, and she gives a contented sound into her Mama’s neck once the smell of cotton laundry powder fills her nose.

“Mama?”

Lottie hums back a reply, her hand rubbing her back in small circles as she sways on her feet. She huffs out a small laugh once she receives a small mumble into her neck. “Rusty?”

“Mama can do the trick if you like, but that means you have to get down so I can grab the hair dryer and get Rusty out.” She can hardly get her sentence out before Nat shakes her head, her hands coming up to grab at her shoulders. “Oh, I know, I know you wanna stay here, I've got you.”

It takes her a lot of effort, and a few close calls, but she manages to sit herself on the ground without dropping Nat, who hasn’t let her grip weaken since the idea of being put down escaped Lottie’s mouth. “Or we can just sit here and watch Rusty get all nice and warm from the dryer.”

Once she receives a small nod, and feels her baby's head turn to face the shaking machine which is holding her friend hostage. She leans back against a pile of towels before spotting Nat’s thumb tucked between her teeth.

“Hm, I think I see a thumb where it isn’t supposed to be.” She makes sure to keep her tone a playful one, poking a finger at Nat’s cheek until she gets a small smile. Lottie gently tugs on her hand until she releases her thumb, even if it earns her a pout. She reveals a pacifier from the pocket of her pyjama trousers, a dark blue one with glow-in-the-dark stars- a gift from Van, if she remembers correctly. She places a small kiss on Nat’s forehead as she timidly accepts the pacifier, so that she knows she isn’t looking at her whilst she gets used to it.

Lottie’s sure she’ll have a sore back later on, but she’ll take it if that means Natalie can settle until Rusty can be returned to her. She’s quick to fall into a dozy state, half awake as the soft thrumming of the dryer mixes with Lottie’s warm hand stroking her hair away from her face.

“You can sleep, cuddle-bug, Rusty will be all ready for you once you wake up again, I promise.” Nat falls asleep in her Mama's arms without fear.

[webslingingslasher]

I miss peter and trouble :( what are they up to??

'if you don't get your hands off me right now, i'll scream.' peter unpeels his hands from your shoulders, you take a step away from him. he's radiating too much heat.

'sorry.' even his voice is sending you up a wall, you turn to give him a glare and sputter at his choice of clothing. 'we're in the middle of a heatwave, our ac is busted and you're wearing a jacket? what the hell is wrong with you? i'm over here sweating my tits off and you're just gonna walk in here wearing a jacket?'

looking at him makes you sick. 'oh my god, you just pissed me off. leave me alone.' peter doesn't leave you alone, he kisses your temple and makes sure not to touch you anywhere else. 'come to the bedroom.'

'i absolutely do not want to have sex with you right now!' peter takes your mood in stride, it's not him, it's the heat. 'i don't want you to have sex with me.'

'then what do you want?'

'you to listen to me.' your eyes narrowed into slits and you cross your arms over your chest. 'i'm not going anywhere until you take that stupid fucking jacket off.'

'that's a weird bargain but i'll take it.' he unzips it in a second, the knowledge of a shirt underneath it makes you unleash a layer of rage and disbelief. 'it's ninety degrees out there and you're wearing layers? our ac is broken, peter! broken and no hope of repair for at least three days and you're wearing layers. wow.'

you're not being dramatic in the slightest either. it's boiling outside, the complex pool is "closed for cleaning," and the stagnant air swarming around your apartment is making you go a little crazy.

'i know, trouble. c'mon, i have something to show you.'

'if it's another jacket, i'm gonna be pissed.' you follow behind peter and hold a sour look while you notice his back isn't soaked with sweat.

'it's not another jacket.'

peter gives you an extremely wide grin at the door, he's proud of what he has behind it. 'ready to love me forever and ever?' there's nothing that could boost your mood, you're currently hanging out in satan's lair.

'yup.' your whole body feels clammy. peter doesn't mind the attitude, he was right with you an hour ago. 'give me a countdown.' you hold no enthusiasm in your voice.

'i'm not going that.'

peter just blinks, you roll your eyes and rush through it. 'three, two one, go.'

your shared room is opened, nothing looks different from the outside but peter ushers you in and you feel... cold. the sheen of sweat that covered every bit of you was frozen in it's tracks, you bask in the temperature change while peter shuts the door behind you.

you look up at the vent, there's no running air but you can hear the faint buzz of it. as you turn to peter, you clock it. your jaw drops, sweet relief was blessed over you.

'oh my god, i love you so much.' you rush to stand in front of the window unit, the air hits your chest and you lift your tanktop up to soak it all in. 'holy shit, this feels so good.' you spin and let out a moan when the air washes over your back.

'uh huh, you're welcome.' peter's cocky and it's deserved. 'you're the best boyfriend ever, i love you so much, please marry me.' you don't care if peter's watching, you're about to get naked and dance in front of the mini ac unit.

'i'm borrowing it from chris, so don't get too attached.' it was an emergency patch for the time being, chris was in jamaica and had no use for the unit. peter was in a one bedroom apartment with a grumpy lover.

he only had to get halfway through his explanation before his friend gave him permission as long as he reinstalled it when his ac was fixed. 'tell chris i love him.'

'i'll tell him you said thanks.'

'close enough.' you bask in the blast of air for another minute before it gets icy, you've been so damn hot that you almost cry at how good it feels to shiver.

flopping to your bed, you welcome the air stream on your legs. 'give me ten minutes and i'll suck your dick.'

'oh, c'mon now. i don't deserve that.'

you sit up to point at him. 'you chose my window so it would be on me at all times. that's selfless love and you deserve to have your dick sucked, don't you dare fight me on it.'

peter sticks his hands up, 'i wouldn't dare.'

'smart boy, now come give me kisses.' 

[glassrowboat]

🎲 I am always one for enabling

One Kiss, Blue Fish. Furina.

Prompt: 4. A kiss atop the head

Word count: 900+

One kiss for her, one kiss for the little gold colored statuette. A habit now so ingrained into your routine as keys pressed into your palm on your way out the door that it was simply instinct to lean down for both of them. Even after the first layer of golden plating started to wear down and revealed a greenish hue beneath.

Oxidation. Something you have had the chance to grow familiar with as the old statues of dogs in the park tucked away between the building of the capital, all beared proof of their noses being scratched and petted. The sight of it alone had you shaking your head, a smile always fighting to turn your lips up ever so slightly.

This habit had all started from a single joke. One comment, that's all it took after Furina had brought home the mini version of her (err- or the Hydro Archon that she was) that now turned to being part of your daily life.

Your fingers had been gliding over the reward as you heard her debating over what to do with it after coming home. Her gloved fingers clutched onto it in a way that failed to hide how they shook just from the sight of the thing alone.

To place it proud and center on the mantle, she pondered. Maybe even bury it away in the guestroom that you only ever used once. Long forgotten after Furina had grown accustomed to sharing a bed with you. Or, simply, toss it out like it was trash?

To that, a startled and over dramatized gasp left you. Hand to your chest to truly sell that bit of how hurt you were at such an appalling suggestion. “You would dare toss the image of my lover in the garbage?”

So, after your ploy of pretending it mattered more to you that it truly did and a spat that was more playful than anything, you placed the mini Furina on the mantle. Tall and proud. Placing a kiss to its little head, you had turned back to her, a cheeky smile on your lips.

A habit set in stone from there on.

One a certain someone clearly wasn't a fan of as her cheeks were puffed out, and a pout graced her features just like that day.

“If you're just going to give out two kisses, you might as well give the second one to me too.” She insisted, head turned away from you as she held up her nose.

It spoke levels about how comfortable she was with you. Willing to give attitude and sass she would normally be afraid anyone else would look at and think of the Hydro Archon she once represented. But there was no need for that here. Not with you.

“That so?”

Taking a strand of hair, that same one that stuck up in the air no matter how much she tried to tame it in the mornings, you twirled it around your finger. The shades of blue and white were almost hypnotizing to watch even when her head bounced up and down to nod.

“Yes! It only makes sense you would give me, your lover, your affection instead of that thing.”

“Now, now, my little mermaid.” You teased as her gaze fell on the golden trophy, eyes surely puncturing the cheap plating covering it. “I can give you two kisses from here on out if you really want.”

Her small little giggle filled the air, seeming appeased with this outcome. For now.

“And I'll give the little replica two on the way out, too.”

She called your name, a high-pitched whine that accompanied her tugging ever so slightly on your sleeve. The way she always said that truly did capture your attention, more so than anyone else who's ever used it before as you bent down to her height.

Eye to eye as you asked “yes?”

“If that's what you're so intent on doing, then you'll have to give me three.”

“You drive a hard bargain.” Wrapping your arms around her waist, the frills of her outfit tickled your arms as she moved in a little closer. The shuffle of her heels heard on the hardwood floor as Furina moved into your hold. “But of course, three kisses.”

If it makes her happy, then it's more than worth it.

“Then take this from the top."

Furina grabbed your keys off the mantle, pulling them away from the statuette you placed them next to when she had first called for your attention. Rattling in her hand as she placed them in yours.

“All the way from the top? Next thing you know, there will be a clapperboard telling me when I can and can't start helping you bathe.”

“T-that’s not important right now.”

Before she could pull away, to hide her blushing cheeks behind a false attitude and layers of hair she hoped would block her face away, you pressed your lips to her hairline. The perfume Neuvillette gifted her after her departure from the Palais Mermonia, only welcoming your touch even more.

Drawing your in closer as you muttered “one kiss, two kiss, three kiss,” with every peck to her forehead. Only a small part of you is resisting the urge to continue teasing her and say ‘red fish, blue fish’ to finish your little poem.

Alas, that can wait another day.

Just like how tomorrow you plan to give three kisses to the statuette just to see Furina pitch another fit.

[neosero]

“So, my child, what will it be?”

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oo. PROLOGUE ❆ THE FIRST SIGNS OF SNOW —

chapter description | For a Snezhnyan, the cold is home. However with the recent weather you fear the worst for your small village, that is until an unexpected guest brings forth a much needed blessing and a dreadful bargain.

word count | 3.4k words

noteworthy mentions | none of this is canon; obvious ooc things; gn!reader; canon typical violence;

Ever since the day La Signora’s remains were brought to the capital, Snezhnaya’s climate has not known peace.

The blizzard came in with a fury just after her funeral ceremony concluded and the storm still rages on without any signs of dissolving. For those who live in the city it was a blessing. All work would conclude an hour earlier until the storm subsided as signed off by Mayor Pulcinella, and there was even a relief fund distributed to the masses from the Northland Bank as a way to help get through these troubled times. However, to those who live outside the high walls the storm is nothing but the wrath of the Archon.

“We cannot go any further!”

White. No matter which way you turn, all that can be seen is the pure raging white of snowfall. The ground is buried by it, the trees are smothered in it and anything worth hunting is either frozen or has long since left for shelter. Even the sky is like a forgotten canvas. It weaves its way into layers of snow below, perfectly leaving the way forward a long landscape of just white. You scoff into your scarf fighting to lift your nearly frozen foot out of the snow to keep moving forward.

“Captain!”

The winds are heavy and loud. So heavy that the three feet of solid snow on the ground is your only stabilizer to fight its aggressive push, and so loud you cannot even hear the sounds of your own heartbeat in your ears. If it weren’t for Lev — the craftsman of your town and one of the few people well enough to accompany you, physically forcing you to look back you might have left your party behind. He removes his scarf from his mouth, yelling with all his might to be heard.

“The hunt is over. We have been out here for hours with no signs of life other than ourselves and the storm is getting worse. Maksim won’t make it any longer in this weather!” You look past Lev and see the sorry state of your party: a few of the volunteers still stagger behind fighting to move against the snow as the quiver in the cold, Maksim is the worst of them shaking violently within Katerina’s hold as she tries her best to provide him warmth with power of her pyro vision to no avail. She catches your gaze and meets you with desperate eyes likely seeking the same thing as Lev. You turn back to the snow one last time. They are right of course, this plan wasn’t going to be a successful one from the start. It’s far too cold and the routes too perilous for any untrained man to keep going.

Your sigh is heavy and defeated, “Let's go back.”

Lomas. A small village due west of the city within Gopeysk Forest. Its population is small, population consisting mostly of refugees that needed an escape from the city or mercenaries trying to get that second chance. The village isn’t much with no high walls or generators to provide warmth but it is the closest thing to home you have ever had in your lifetime…and it pains you to come back to it with nothing to give it thanks.

When your expedition returns with less supplies than when you left, you expect to see the people more disheartened. Maybe a few curses, sobbing, anything but the open arms and smiles you are met with. There are a few people awaiting your arrival: among them Lev’s wife and daughter who greet him with a warm embrace the moment he reaches them; the Innkeep Maria, gently takes Maksim, Katerina and a few of the others back to her establishment with a promise of a fire and warm food; the last of them take to their own family and friends as they are all surrounded with heartfelt welcomes. You take it all in for what it is: they knew you would be unsuccessful. None of them expected you to return with any good news because it has been like this for weeks, with the food preserves running low and the water still frozen over. The best anyone can do is be there for one another.

With the times as is, it’s all they have left. 

You catch eyes with Chief Igor behind the masses. Just as he is noticed, he smiles at you before stalking back into his home. The implication is there for you to follow, so you place your sword back at the armory and head over.

When you enter you’re engulfed in the warmth of a fire you can hear burning in the living space. The house is more like a hut with only this hallway separating each room. You can hear the sound of a tea kettle steaming on your left and follow the noise. The Chief sits in a large fur chair in front of a fireplace, in his hands is the kettle you heard. He pours two cups full of the hot liquid as you move to remove some of your layers before joining him by the fire. You sit in an identical chair adjacent to him and he motions for you to take the other cup as he sips from his own. You do it out of respect but don’t drink it, your eyes locked on the fire.

“If you don’t drink it, it will get cold.” 

“We won’t last through this storm, Igor.” You speak finally, eyes jumping to meet his old and tired ones. “I’ve seen our supply — it's the only reason we left — and it isn’t good. We have to do something.”

“And what do you think we should do? Go back into the storm and freeze or ask the capital for help?” You sit silently.

“You worry too much. That’s my job.”

Shakily, he reaches for the kettle again. Slowly he pours a little more into your cup bringing back the steam of heat it once lost. “It is difficult now, I know but we will get through this. Lomas was not born in a day, she has survived worse before you came along.”

He is right; the elders take pride in bringing up past endeavors with bandits and blizzards alike over a drink and this place has had its ups and downs. “If we ration well, we’ll last a month. Maybe even a few extra days at best but this storm will pass as they always do.”

You try to relax, drinking down the tea and feeling the heat sooth over your senses. m It's clear worrying won’t do anyone any good so you bottle up whatever else you have to say and offer the Chief a smile as best you can. You sit in idle chatter for a while until the sun dies past the trees. You thank him for the drink and retreat back to the coat hanger for your things, bracing yourself for the outside once again. It is a lot more peaceful at night, the snowfall.

It’s almost as if the archon herself is at rest and yet still subconsciously mourning her loss, the snowflake like tears gently falling down her cheeks falling into our own world.

With heavy steps, you trek over to the inn. As you draw near, the sounds of laughter and music grow in volume and when you get to the doors they are thrust open before you. Instantly you are engulfed in the arms of men as they chant and carry you off to the dance floor.  You’re spun in circles, whisked away from partner to partner and given a drink from the hands of a child. It takes too long to escape their merriment but luckily a change in tune has them calm down enough for you to sneak away. “So the great warrior hasn’t lost their fight I see.”

As you drink down your cup for all its worth, you throw your gaze to the side to catch sight of the voice. To your left sits your party all enjoying a fine meal and drink. Lev offers a seat to you and you take it gladly. “Finally decided to join us!” Maksim, clearly having traded in his frostbite for drunkenness, refills your cup with some of the hard booze from his own glass. The glare you throw him sends a laugh through the table.

“Listen, listen… for what it's worth I lost ten mora on a bet that I would be the one to send us home so cut me some slack alright.” His words slur and he nearly tips over his own stool trying to chase the cup in his own hands. You shake your head at him and take a sip from your no longer empty cup. Soon a bowl of hot potato soup is placed in front of you and you look up to see Katerina. Her flaming red hair is in a bun and with the apron to match she perfectly fits into the inn staff. She places one more bowl down for your table off her tray before sitting next to you. “How did it go with the chief?”

“Let's just say we are in for the winter. How has the inn been holding?” You both talk loudly amongst yourselves as the music has once again picked up along with the chatter. “Nothing can break their spirits really!”

“Not even the archon herself. Bless her ever cold heart!” The exclamation comes from somewhere over your shoulder you don’t see but it was loud enough to earn a cheer and a toast. Almost every glass is raised to the air and in unison they are all emptied like there will be no tomorrow. You have half a mind to speak for it, but as Igor said this storm will pass. So you finish your own cup slamming it back on the table and pulling Katerina by the arms to the dance floor. She fights back poorly and another cheer is brought out into the night as you both join the group. You spend the rest of the late hours in the comfort of friends and family, letting the faux embrace of hard liquors and music lull you into a sense of peace. It makes you think of a brighter tomorrow, offers you hope you have yet to know will be crushed.

When morning breaks through, you’re shaken awake. It startles you, flinching in your own bed and reaching for the dagger under your pillow before you realize its Katerina. “What’s going on-?”

“You have to see this.” She cuts you off before moving to your curtains and thrusting them open. The light is blinding but still you walk over to the window. You're still a little delirious and getting up so quickly isn't helping but at first glance everything seems fine. The snow storm has passed overnight it seems and a good chunk of snow has already been shoveled clear from the food reserve and the armory which is now lit with a fire. You almost question Katerina’s hysteria until you catch sight of a man leaving the reserve. A mask covers most of his face and the rest of him is covered head to toe in black winter gear. He stands out like a sore thumb in the snow but that isn’t what catches your eye. No, it's the etchings of an emblem that stirs a sour pit in your stomach and brings new found vigor to your body.

“Move.” It is all you give her as a warning before you launch your nightstand through the window. The glass shatters open and while she is still surprised you grasp her sword and jump through. Thankfully you land on snow instead of glass but that is the least of your worries as you bolt for the man ahead. He sees you coming and he panics, hands raising in surrender but you pay it no mind. Of course you wouldn’t jab an unarmed man, so you flip the sword in your hand to thrust the hilt into his stomach and deliver a kick to the back of his knee. He falls over in pain and you bring the tip of the sword to the back of his neck as soon as he hits the floor. He wails and you press the blade closer to silence him, by now you have drawn the eyes of a crowd but still you don’t care. Not now, not when they are involved. Through greeted teeth and anger you ask, “What are you doing here?! Where is your commanding officer!?”

The man does nothing but breath heavily into the snow shoved in his face. You almost let the anger get the best of you in his silence, almost breaking flesh but the head of a rifle stops you short. Your head whips over coming eye to eye with the barrel of a pyroslingers gun. The man with the rifle looks as calm as his covered face could show, “Why don’t you put the sword down and we could talk?”

“As if I’d listen to your kind!” The man below tries to inch away but you bring your foot down on his right calf - not enough to break but enough to keep him still. The gunman flinches closer at his partner’s scream of pain.”You all have no power here so why-?”

“By the archons, what is happening here?” Igor leaves his hut in a hurry probably having heard the screams. 

“Igor! Quickly get the others we need to…”

“No, you will put the sword down now and stop this foolishness!” Igor looks at you as if you’re insane and you stare back just as puzzled. “What?”

“They’ve come to help us.”

“Help? Help!” The word dives your foot harder into the man's calf. “I’m sorry, have I missed something. What could these people possibly do to help us?” The anger rises exponentially within you so much so if you had a pyro vision you're sure you would have caught fire by now. 

“I know it is hard to believe and I will explain it all, but please release him.” Igor begs, eyes showing nothing but sincerity however your guard remains held. “Not until he loses the gun.”

“Fat chance.” The gunman cocks his weapon, eyes challenging you to be the first to break. By now the commotion has brought everyone to watch; Lev holds his family close, Katerina stands in suspense and many other onlookers wait to see how it unfolds.

It is his voice that stuns you both into submission. 

“Lower your weapon and return to your post.”

You look past Igor to the man behind him. He stands tall in a white cloak encrusted in a deep sea blue, half of his face is encased by the decay of a mask molted to his skin but it does not hinder his piercing gaze as locking eyes with him. Your breathing quickens and you can’t move; whether it be from the cold finally catching up to you or him you don’t know. What you do know is that your body complies without you willing it; you drop the sword and the gunman lowers his weapon all the same. He bows deep before leaving and so does the man you injured as he hobbles off. Igor moves past you to try and disperse the crowd.

It only leaves you to stare him down.

The head of the fatui and the Harbingers.

The Jester, Pierro.

Igor returns sighing deeply, uncaring of the tension present between you two. “Let us return to my hut. We have much to discuss.”

“Indeed.” Pierro says coldly, eyes never leaving your own.

The room is in utter silence.

Igor had explained everything: they had come at dawn, didn’t ask for a thing or want anything except to help. They had brought food and generators for heat and power they would soon install themselves in all homes and businesses. They had brought weapons and materials to give as well as blueprints for expansion if that be the case. A bucket load of gifts with no strings attached that Lomas so conveniently needs. Igor tried to get you to understand, the storm has passed on he said this is the new but you knew better than that. For the entirety of the meeting you never break Pierro’s gaze and neither does he yours. You try to see his angle or true purpose for being here but you come up with nothing. It is all too random.

“I think they need time to process.” Pierro finally speaks, gaze unmoving. 

“Of course, you’re right. Come I'll get Maria to…”

“Process alone.” Pierro cuts Igor off, resting his face on his intertwined fingers. Igor looks between the man and you, he nods knowing that he is not needed in this conversation so he takes his cane and goes. You wait for the door to close fully before you stand and slam your fists on the table, “What are you doing here?”

Pierro doesn’t speak but lets you talk. “It's been years. Years. No search parties, no bounties, no commissions, nothing so why here? Why now when things were just getting good. I don’t understand!”

“La Signora is dead.” He waves his hand using the power of cryo to move the tea kettle and pour himself a glass. “The Fatui is losing influence as our numbers decline. Only whispers but whispers soon turn to challenges and challenges turn to trouble.” He takes a long sip then.

“Her majesty, The Tsaritsa, beckons us all home to fill the void the Fair Lady has left behind. She wants to advance forward and with the plan moving in such succession it is crucial we keep our ranks in line. Her judgment is always best and this is no exception.”

“But what does that have to do with me?” You make the mistake of asking. He stands then himself, finally breaking away from your staring contest to move over to a window. Just as before, he uses some power of cryo and the window swings open on its own. He beckons you over and reluctantly you approach. Pierro then speaks, “Each Harbinger is tasked with bringing in their own disciples and through a collection of trials they will each compete for the honor to close the void and restore the order that was lost.” 

It clicks then for you, his purpose for being here but still he continues. “You will compete in the Harbinger trials as my chosen and fight for the honor of her majesty.”

“I will never help or go back to that life.” You spit on his shoes. The life you had with the fatui is gone, long gone and you can't go back to that. You won't go back. 

“Hm.”

Pierro stares at the spit stain until it freezes over and blows away like dust. “Lomas is beautiful isn’t it.”

The implication drops your heart into your chest, a sudden pressure to your shoulders. “You won’t lay a hand on these people!”

“Their safety is my guarantee, if you return. Lest you continue to fight then by morning a blizzard will be your last concern and you will beg for her majesty’s mercy.” Pierro threat isn’t a threat, with the way his pale grey eye pours into you it only speaks of a promise. Anger fuels you and your fist rises to punch in frustration but your body yet doesn’t listen to you. Just like the kettle and the window, Pierro uses some kind of power to freeze you in place. 

“Join me willingly and become the Harbinger by my side as you were raised to be, or let these people die for your selfish theatrics and I bring you by force over their graves.”

Again he means business, his words a guarantee and you know Lomas wouldn’t stand a chance against the might of the Fatui let alone Pierro’s regime. Your gaze shifts outside, you can see his workers moving and placing various mechanics around the village but you can also see the ones you love. Katerina and Maksim both stand watch over the men working, Lev holds his daughter close as she clings to his neck and Maria refuses to let the men in her Inn. If anything were to happen to them you don’t know what you would do but this is…

Slowly your gaze is shifted back to him, Pierro doesn’t smile at your struggle or show any real sign of concern. Just that same old straight face you remember in your nightmares.

“So, my child, what will it be?”

The question is raised and there is only one answer.

You give your response hushed and with the utmost anger you could muster through your defeat, “I accept the invitation, master.”

author's note | here is the opening chapter to a Ballad of Winter's Embrace! Thanks to everyone's patience with me, university is weird at the moment but now I have the free time to actually keep moving forward with my wips! heavy filler chapter this is but i did want to give a bit of something before just jumping into everything I have planned out.

[a-static-grief]

[ SCALE simply went through the portal on the informant's command, unminding of the noise the other two made. ]

-- ⚖️

[it lead to...]

*an elevator?*

( @the-inphinite-elevator )

[strialternatives]

jumpscare part three of that akechi palace au! i'm labeling this section "stuff i forgot" lol. Part 1, Part 2

(as always there's some additional notes below the cut)

At first i just wanted to design a new persona then i got to thinking about will seeds and maps and now we're here :///

I also did some security level graphics for fun!

Anyways fun fact about Goro's will seed doors: they've actually got inscriptions based around justice inscribed above them, it's really on brand for his messy psyche:

"Aquila leges sine moribus vanae." - "Laws without morals are in vain." (Depression door)

"A fronte praecipitium a tergo lupi." - "A precipice in front, wolves behind. (Rage door)

"Ducunt volentem fata, nolentem trahunt." - "Fate leads the willing, drags the unwilling." (Bargaining door)

"Virtus est vitium fugere." - "Virtue is to avoid evil." (Denial door)

"Fortuna caeca est." - "Fortune is blind." (Acceptance Door)

Basically, Joker is going to be very, VERY sick of the number five by the end of this palace. I figured hydrangea's fit, since Akechi's an actions over words kinda guy who'd absolutely couch his apologies deep down in his fractured mind behind a door only Joker can open (Note: this mind set is what got him in this mess, do NOT heed him--)

In my brain the Amphitheater is super-layered with tons of dead ends and minimal safe rooms. The final area can only be accessed via a side entrance on Robin Hood's stage, there's another hallway that's hidden on the uppermost level around the theater.

The treasure is pretty straight forward after that, the shadows that protect the Emperor's chambers are a mix of enemies made to counter all the thieves' affinities. Thankfully, Joker would have a full house at this point in the palace.

This AU takes place about two years post-royal with some change, so everyone's between 17-21 at this point. The palace deadline is more informed by Akira's rising paranoia the longer Akechi is trapped within his own palace.

[maxdibert]

I don't mind Marauders fans having fun, and I think it's sweet that they've managed to create such a big community around it. But I mourn the fact that so many of them don't know the awesomeness of canon Sirius, Remus, and Severus. These three men are so complex and interesting, yet they’re often reduced to nothing.

Exactly—characters with genuinely complex arcs get reduced to a potential rapist, a whiny twink who can’t function unless he’s shagging a werewolf, and said werewolf turned into some alpha-male pack leader. It’s honestly just pathetic. Like, how do you take layered, morally grey characters and flatten them into clichés from the bargain bin of bad fanfiction tropes?

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

rich girl 1

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as bullying, manipulation, cheating, noncon/dubcon, Lloyd being Lloyd, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your long awaited ascension to the Home Owners Association proves more than you bargained for. (Silverfox AU)

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, side of Cole Turner

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

Marge plays with the perfect slip of her bleach blond hair. Her lips glisten a shade of pink that reminds you of watermelon and her long lashes perfectly frame her crystal blue eyes. She is the perfect suburban housewife, the leader of the pack. 

The other women look to her as a beacon; they dress like her, speak like her, even try to walk like her. As you look around the tables, the cookie cutter women are almost interchangeable. You don't quite fit the mould but you've contorted yourself as best you can. 

It's your first meeting as part of the Home Owners Association. In your three long years in the suburb, it's been your ultimate goal. Well, it was Cole's. Your husband says you need to keep busy and what better opportunity to make friends. Maybe a great opportunity but not an easy one. 

Your husband just wants the best for you. You know that. Otherwise you wouldn't be living in this gorgeous suburb and your dream house. How could you want anything more? 

Now, you can't. You've done it. You've achieved it all. An HOA member among the privileged and the pretty.  

Caroline clears her throat and you look up. She stares at your french tips tapping on the table. You give a sheepish smile and stop yourself. You can't help it, you're nervous. 

As exciting as it all it, you almost want it to just be over. You want to run home and tell Cole all about it. About how you're one of them.  

You fan yourself with your hand, the sun beating down on the green lawn set with at least half a dozen tables. You're sweating through your foundation and the highlighter and the layers you felt were redundant. Your mascara is starting to stick. You glance over at Mitzy, there is even a trickle of sweat along her dark hairline. How? 

You cross your leg over the other and focus on Marge as she calls attention to the front table. There, her closest allies break bread; Callie who you often mistake for Marge, Olivia and her strawberry blond locks, Eleanor, and older member who kept her hair highlighted and draws her brows on, and Shanice, the youngest of any member, even yourself. 

"Alright, ladies, let's get to business," Marge calls out. You reach for your glass and find the mimosa drained. Right, you drank it all. You set it back and press together your wet fingertips. "Today, we have a new member!" 

Applause rolls through the crowd and you sit up straight, unhooking your leg as you look around meekly. You smile, cheeks tight and your lips tremble. You're so happy but so terrified. 

"And we know how we welcome new members. Honey, please come down," Marge says. 

You take a breath and stand. You gulp and tense your calves as you make a slow progress across the yard, fighting to keep your heels from sinking into the grass. As you reach the front table, your fearless leader welcomes you with a outstretched arm. 

"Our new members get to take on their very own HOA mission," Marge explains as Callie stands, a clipboard in her hands. She comes around beside her longlost twin, "so, Calliope, what do we have?" 

Marge leans over and the two review the clipboard. They hem and haw, muttering. 

"No, Mary is handling that already," Callie says, "these are the new ones." 

They confer then peek back at their table mates, "ladies, please, 14.1b. Do we agree?" 

The women look down at the pink folders and open them, fingertips brushing over paper to find the point in question. The look at each other but something in their expressions is uneasy. Marge clears her throat. 

"Well?" 

"Mm," Eleanor taps her nail on the folder, "yes, I think it will do." 

The others nod, though Shanice does so hesitantly.  

"Marvelous," Marge declares and flips the pages of the clipboard, wiggling free a pristine white envelope with the stamp of the HOA on the sealed flap. She holds it up, presenting it to the audience. 

"By our next meeting, you will report back," Marge declares, "deliver this to the house on the label. Callie," she pushes the clipboard away, "give her the briefing of the issue before she goes. Now we will check in on action items." Marge struts away as Callie pulls loose a sheet of paper and hands it over, "good luck." 

You take it and fold it around the envelope as Marge calls up Erin to present her progress in getting Suzette on Oakfront to remove her Venus statue. You return to your own table, near the back, and sit. Caroline sighs and you glance over at her. 

"What house?" She whispers. 

You let the paper unfold and show her the envelope label. She sniffs and squeezes your elbow, "oh, honey." 

You frown and look down. You stare at the address, you're not sure you're familiar with it. 17 Willow Drive. That's not too far from Elmwood where you live. Should be easy enough. 

💄

You review the directive on the slip of paper. Instead of going straight home, you head a few streets past your house to 17 Willow. You stand across the road in front of 16 and chew your lip. ‘Warning to be delivered to front door. Have occupant sign to acknowledge receipt.’ 

You sigh. You don’t like being the bearer of bad news. You wonder what exactly the homeowner did wrong. Their lawn is tidy and trimmed, the hedges meet the standards of the HOA guidelines, and nothing else sticks out from the row of suburban mansions.  

You cross the street and flick the envelope with your thumb. You hover just outside the gate in your kitten heels. You feel bad already. 

You reach over the white pickets and unclasp the gate. You stroll up the walk, admiring the landscaping. Huh. Paint colour falls within the standard and no unseemly ornaments. You can’t figure out why you’re here. 

You climb the steps and approach the front door. You tap the doorbell and wait, looking around aimlessly. You clutch the paper and envelope tight as your heart races. Maybe all this isn’t for you. You thought the HOA was more a women’s club; they had a book club and social nights and all that stuff, you didn’t really think about the nitty gritty of it all. 

You lean on your left foot, letting your ankle bend.  

“What do you want, toots?” A voice asks from the speaker of the doorbell cam. 

You smile. You didn’t reapply your lipstick. You bend slightly and wave at the lens. 

“Um, hello,” you give your name before you continue, “I’m part of the HOA. I have um, I have something for you.” 

You hear a click. You wait. You check your apple watch as the time stretches on. You peek behind you again then turn back to the front door. You hit the bell again. 

“Leave it in the slot,” the voice growls, “busy.” 

“Oh, right, erm, I do need you to sign--” 

“Christ fuckin’ sakes.” 

The speaker dies out again and you wince at the profanity. Oh, great, he’s already upset. You bounce on your heels and sway. You don’t do well with anger. 

You hear the lock on the inner door twist and you take a breath. You steel yourself and plaster your smile in place. You see a shadow inside then the screen door opens to a naked man with only a hand towel to cover his most intimate spot. He drapes it just in front of his pelvis but you keep your eyes above board. 

“Sorry, I--” 

“I told you, I’m busy,” he snarls, his mustache bristling on his curled lip. 

You swallow and your smile threatens to break. Maybe you should’ve listened and just come back later. You’re speechless as all your mental preparation flutters away. 

“Sir, I, er, I--” 

“Enjoying the view, sweet cheeks?” He scoffs and sends you a wink, “should I lift the towel or what?” 

“Uh, no, please, don’t,” you put your hands up, the envelope nearly slipping from your grasp. “I...” You blink at him. His grey hair droops crookedly, the top longer than the trimmed sides. “Here, er, I just need you to read this and sign--” 

He snatches the letter with one hand and turns it over to look at the HOA stamp. He rolls his eyes. He brings his other hand up, the towel clamped between two fingers and you block out his lower half with your palm and look up. He rips the envelope in two and drops it. 

“You can tell the bimbos to fuck off,” He kicks the remnants towards you, “now if you’ll excuse me, lube’s drying up.” 

He lets the door fall shut and spins around, giving a view of his ass before he slams the inner door. You gasp and bend to gather up the destroyed letter. You quickly retreat, cheeks burning in horror. 

Now you know why Caroline seemed so concerned. 

[thanaticalism]

Please please more Danko stuff please please….would sell my soul to you if you could do anything involving him and cuddling or something similarly fluffy

you've come to the right place, anon! i've made this blog specifically just to talk about daniil (and the game, once i get some spare time to give it justice), so i'm happy to write your requests. no soul selling required! just feedback.

time barely stands still for daniil dankovsky, and he's become used to it.

of course, he'll always say that the fast paced life of an academic such as himself is exactly what he bargained for. time doesn't stand still because he doesn't want it to. he wouldn't know what to do with himself if the time just never passed. or if it did and he was stagnant for most of it; unmotivated, slacking, lazy. if anything, daniil dankovsky thinks there's simply not enough time, not enough life to contain his ambitions. that is precisely why he seeks to conquer death; humanity simply doesn't have enough life.

time only stands still once, and he suddenly understands notions like nostalgia, the human desire to live in the moment, and greed, but it's the desperate kind. the kind that is tender rather than devastating.

it was a particularly ordinary day for the bachelor going through the motions; the usual aches of research that the whole world deems as fruitless, lunch that went stale due to his attention being solely on the cultures he'd been studying for the entirety of the day, a thinly veiled threat to withdraw funding from Thanatica in a letter he grew too frustrated to read, and dinner with none other than you. he'd promised, and he showed up.

he lets you do most of the talking, but not to an extreme; he makes passing comments about the meal, about the waiter's bad etiquette, compliments your elegance that he "cannot help but be enraptured with"... his company is enjoyable, but not personal. but you give it time, you always do.

because once you get home, you notice the tension in his shoulders that hid beneath the layers of linen and silk alike as he undresses. the way he unbuttons his waistcoat is slightly uncoordinated, his eyebrows are knit together, and the clatter of his pin as he clumsily drops it tells you enough. all this while he's eerily silent, and both of you know that this, in itself, is talk. and he knows that there's no use keeping anything to himself, but he'll be damned if he hears himself say it.

you sit on the bed, and he almost looks offended that you didn't wait for him before he registers the beckoning look in your eyes, the call for him to make it all go away and he's immediately there, warm and so unbearably tense still, and you waste no time in wrapping your arms around him. daniil goes for your neck, face buried in the point that connects it with your shoulder and you count one, two, three in your head, before he completely deflates. your hand runs over his back in back and forth motions, as the other rests on the nape of his neck. that is enough to earn you a weary but content sigh into your neck, and your lips twitch in a small smile. his hands rest at your waist, just shy of your hips and you hold him like this until you feel his strength return gradually.

only then, does he look at you. he doesn't bother hiding the vulnerability in his eyes, but he is comfortable and content. he's still silent, but the need for words isn't something that you have. he kisses your forehead, then your cheek, then his hand finds yours and brings it to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles then finally, your wrist. daniil seemed to chase your heartbeat wherever it was, kissing each pulse point that he could, every time. he puts his head on your chest, just above your heart, his hand still holding yours and time stands still, for once.

[torturedtypewritersdept]

earning your stripes - m.list

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✯ pairing:

racer!rafe cameron x fem sports reporter!reader

✯ summary:

sports reporter, y/n edwards, has the opportunity of a lifetime - interviewing nascar driver, rafe cameron. But, it may be a little bit more than she bargained for.

✯ warnings:

rafe is a sexy cocky bitch, reader is a queen, sexual innuendos, eventual smut, mature themes, rafe low key is a bitch, etc.

✯ a/n:

nothing!! please don't engage if you have a hard time with any of these topics <3 this was origianlly posted on my old blog @/illicitfixations, @/lovelornanonymity back in 2021/2022 and i have rewritten + reshared it here :)

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earning your stripes - the playlist (start here)

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the universe:

part one - the interview | part two - there was this girl | part three - the track | part four - protector | part five - layers of him

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