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vasito-de-leche · 7 months ago

Note

a little prompt, if you don’t mind

what about mercenary!reader and symbiote!Pavia? it’s just Pavia’s ult/wolves kinda remind me of Venom and i think it would be fun to imagine him being something like Venom

;R1999 PAVIA - "under your skin"

Symbiote!Pavia x Mercenary!Reader 2.5k words body horror What you and Pavia have is nothing more than transactional—you need him to make a living, and he needs you alive to ensure a comfortable life. It's taken some time to get used to these changes, to share everything you have with him for the sake of convenience: your home, your food, your job. And most importantly, your body. Perfect symbiosis, or dysfunctional parasitism? You've yet to figure out where you two stand. One thing is clear, though; he's the best at getting under your skin.

i just want you to know that this prompt speaks to MY SOUL bc i love venom and pavia so fucking much. you dont understand how hard i think about the concept of a symbiotic relationship between symbiote and host. so I went extremely self-indulgent with this one <3

as usual, this is written to be read as platonic or romantic, whatever floats your boat!

Bang!

A clean kill.

The only reason you watch as the body drops to the ground is out of respect for the work you do, nothing else. You've done this a dozen times, and you will do it a dozen more -- the gun in your hand has become a reliable friend rather than a tool for mindless murder, its familiar weight a fleeting comfort in the tedious routine. A shame it came from the most annoying person you know.

Screaming ensues as everyone surrounding your target runs around in panic. You remain, eyes locked on the target. When someone moves their body, attempting to cradle that lifeless corpse, you see it; a bullet right between their eyebrows, the perfect shot.

You feel a tug, but it comes from within your chest cavity. Something squirms inside you, pulling you back, and you understand this as your cue to slide back into the shadows. It begins with a single step backwards, then another, until you feel the texture under your shoes shift -- what was once solid ground is now a dark, velvety mass, floating upwards and fading away like smoke. It licks at your ankles, providing an initially cold sensation that permeates your clothes, and then it continues upwards to your calves, your knees, your thighs. The gun slowly dissolves into slime, taking the shape of what you assume to be a hand, horrible and sticky fingers intertwined with yours, pulling you downwards.

By then, you feel that burning sensation, and then you're dragged into the abyss.

"That was a lousy shot."

A voice echoes in your mind, it is not your own. It feels like a thousand ants marching alongside your cranium. Or rather, what you assume to be your cranium -- in this current state, you can't separate yourself from the embrace of the void. The voice might as well reverberate all around you.

You scoff and insist. No, it was a perfect shot.

"Perfect my ass. You were off by 2 centimeters," the biting remark makes you clench your jaw. You don't reply. The voice does the same, it remains still, only a semblance of white noise, but you understand its silence as a smug victory.

Suddenly, vertigo takes hold of you. It only happens for a split second, always unannounced, but you know better than to brace yourself. Doing so, as you've learned, would only make you nauseous, dizzy and weak -- instead, you let go and the shadows gently coax you back into the light before dissipating in the air.

You find yourself in front of your apartment door, an odd and anticlimactic way of ending a productive day. What, no snack run today?

"Not feeling it today. So you either open the door on your own, or I'll do it myself. Get a move on."

Some of these threats tend to hold more water than others, but more often than not, they're just empty words and loud, useless barking. And so you've learned to ignore them all -- however, you feel a faint prodding inside your back pocket, like a tentacle in search of something. Right, your keys. The roll of your eyes and the slowness in your movements are the only means of rebellion you have against this annoying entity in your head, it continues to breathe down your neck, impatient as ever, until the door opens and you step into your safe haven.

"Finally! Guess there's some activity in that brain dead head of yours."

You're forced to make a bee-line for the kitchen and the fridge, puppeteered by a force much more stronger, much more ancient than every insignificant emotion you've ever felt: the damn parasite inside of you is hungry.

As you both scan the leftovers -- your leech of a roommate seeing through your eyes, smelling through your nose -- the voice returns, this time in a more playful tone, less grating than before.

"Scusi, what's with the silent treatment today?" You bite the inside of your cheek and it laughs at you. "Don't tell me, wolf got your tongue? Are you mad that I saw right through your poor, shitty technique?"

A suffocating presence crawls inside you, starting from somewhere below your rib cage and making its way upwards through your esophagus and trachea, shifting until you feel the prodding of cold, slimy fingers in your mouth. They are tasteless and you can still breathe, your body not even bothering to perceive this as an obstruction or an intruding force that must be coughed and spat out. They are careless in their movements, pinching the tip of your tongue and pushing against your clenched teeth in an attempt to get you to open up.

And the worst part is that this is nothing but a mocking gesture, you've come to understand this over the years. To you, this is no different than someone poking at your sides, childishly asking for your attention. You obediently open, enough for a single digit to slip out, one you recognize as the middle finger. It presses down on your lower lip.

And then you bite down, hard.

It dissipates instantly, it is absorbed back into your body through every inch of skin it makes contact with. There is a new sound in the back of your mind, one you weren't quite expecting. Your parasite laughs, amused, no trace of that usual condescending tone.

"Good, you still know how to use that petty mouth of yours. I don't have to worry about teaching you how to chew down your food."

This makes you stand up straight, turning your head and glaring at an empty space, where you assume this presence would manifest if it chose to stop taking residence in your body, "I'm not eating while you're still in there. If you want dinner, then get out."

There is a beat, a momentary silence. You don't give the parasite any time to bargain, "I'm serious. Use your own damn mouth if you're so hungry. I already have to do everything on my own, I'm not going to start spoon feeding you, too!"

The reply comes out faster than you expected.

"Fine."

For a moment, your vision doubles and your body feels like it's being painlessly torn apart. For a moment, you have two sets of eyes, two sets of arms, two sets of legs and two minds. You are both yourself and him, simultaneously. It is like someone is cutting your soul in half, shoving each part into two different bodies.

It is over in the blink of an eye, and there is a presence looming behind you, made from the same material that took you here, the same material that often travels in your veins and every other crevice, nook and cranny available between your organs and bones. The lights of your apartment flicker, and you take notice of his shadow cast over you.

His predatory gaze burns holes in the back of your head, and in the stillness of it all, you hear his steps, the sound his leather pants and the shifting of his shirt fabric as he steps closer -- until you feel his chest against your back. An arm slides into view, closing the door to the fridge and resting there, preventing you from escaping. It is decorated with all the useless, silver jewelry he's taken from your targets, a hand covered with tattoos you've often traced with your very own fingers in the past.

Oddly enough, you do not feel like prey. Not anymore. Your instinct tells you that you should, but truth be told, you could not care less. Especially when you feel his chin dig into the top of your head, his weight pressing lazily on you.

"…But in exchange, I'm cooking tonight. You got 10 seconds to get outta here." He shifts, and his cheek nuzzles into you as he yawns, like he's ready to move on from this conversation.

"Huh?" You slide from under him, finally looking at the parasite concealing as a man -- one you recognize as the bane of your existence, Pavia. "Uh, like hell I'm trusting you with the food! I've seen the stuff you put on your pizza."

"Like you're one to talk! You add too much salt to everything you make. If you wanted to ruin your liver, you should've just let me eat it from day one. 5 seconds left before I throw you out. C'mon."

"Do you even know how to cook? Any actual recipes that don't require winging everything?"

"Does pasta with a side of 'mind your fucking business or I'll make us eat rat poison' sound good to you?"

"I swear if you put anything funny in the food--…"

"Time's up. Out!" Pavia picks you up, manhandles you even, and tosses you out into the living room. As soon as you land on the couch, the door to the kitchen closes and you're left all alone.

It's easy to forget that you have no fucking clue as to who or what Pavia even is.

No last name, no records, no personal information at all. You've touched him before—he looks and feels just like any other person. If you didn't know any better, you could've sworn he bleeds the same way you do. But there are times when that outer layer of normalcy is peeled back just enough to remind you what you're dealing with. Sometimes, the outline of his form darkens, as if the light around him couldn't affect him in any way, and his eyes go dark, so very dark.

You've seen him in this form, unhinging his jaw to uncomfortable degrees and revealing endless sets of saw-like fangs and teeth. His nails have grown longer, thicker and sharper than expected in many occasions. You would find those on the ground, like a wild dog who has never known, let alone needed, a trimmer.

And most importantly, you've allowed him entry to every pore of your body, every piece of cartilage, every muscle, every vein.

That's when you get a small glimpse into the eldritch monstrosity living under your roof—sometimes, he's a thick fog. Sometimes, he's an oozing pile of slime. Sometimes, he's the big, bad wolf. Sometimes, you can't even understand what you're looking at when he manifests in front of you. Regardless, you're certain of something.

Pavia is darkness, eternal and haunting as the night.

He is also a huge, ungrateful, bastard.

"Hey! Where'd you leave the gelato!? This freezer's a damn mess!" His voice is heard, muffled. It doesn't carry the same cadence and weight as it does when you hear it from within your mind. He sounds more annoying, in fact.

It's a strange experience, to have him coexist right beside you as if he weren't some sort of parasite, one hair away from eating your organs. But at least like this, he cannot read your mind nor attempt to puppet your body like a moron in broad daylight. You don't answer, fully aware that he's only trying to piss you off and lure you into another argument -- as if he'd ever lose sight of his precious dessert, anyway. Instead, you busy yourself with the usual routine; finishing what is left of your work, contact your employers and whatnot.

Soon enough, the kitchen door opens and Pavia slides into the room with a single plate of warm food. You look at him, eyes wide in indignation. Oh, he wouldn't …

"Huh? What, I thought you didn't trust me to cook, so I just made something for myself. There's some leftovers from your poor excuse of a lasagna, though." The smarmy expression plastered all over his face as he licks the sauce off his spoon is unbearable, and you rush to the kitchen either to find the biggest knife to drive into his chest or to resign yourself and eat those leftovers.

And then you see it, another plate resting by the counter. Full of delicious looking pasta.

Son of a bitch.

"Bring me some of that orange juice you bought yesterday while you're in there, yeah?" Pavia never gives you time to settle down, demanding your attention and your frustration time and time again, unable to form a single coherent thought nor opinion about him.

He's annoying, that's all you've been able to figure out so far.

He's annoying, and he's made a mess out of your kitchen to cook this meal for both of you. He's annoying, and stingy when it comes to sharing his favorite snacks and desserts, but he never attempts to steal your own. He's annoying, and he offers you a power beyond your wildest dreams, to get rid of inhibition and embrace the abilities of an eldritch beast. He's annoying, and he hogs all the fucking blankets at night, planting his cold feet against your legs or back to add insult to injury.

He's annoying, and he's calling out to you once more, telling you to hurry or else you'll miss "that one stupid show" you like, that he'll switch channels if you don't sit down with him to eat. You sigh. The nerve, the hypocrisy. You know the things he likes to watch -- he has no right to criticize your taste like this.

"I'm coming, calm down! Christ …"

You notice that he never lingers nor invades any of your usual places, always picking the same spots for himself, and this is ironic in every way possible given his fickle nature. There's no doubt that as soon as you two retire for the night, Pavia will make a show out of sliding back into your body, to rest with the warmth of your blood and the soothing rhythm of your heart. And you will tell him to fuck off and sleep on the couch, reminding him of that one time he got a little too comfortable, clutching your heart in his claws, causing you to believe you were having a heart attack. Then, morning will arrive, and you will find Pavia either sprawled out or gone, but never truly leaving you alone. You will feel him, that inky slime, both cold and warm in your veins. You will go to work, and you will return home to start all over again. This is the routine, one you stopped questioning a long time ago.

This parasite who gets under your skin, both figuratively and literally, is annoying. He's annoying when he teases you, forcing you to admit that he can cook a mean pasta. He's annoying when he laughs, loud and boisterous, at those stupid moments he often criticizes in all of your favorite shows. He's annoying when he gets clingy, using you as a pillow because he can't be bothered to reach out for one of the many other pillows scattered around.

He's so very annoying when he looks at you with a curious gleam in his eyes, obviously noticing the way you've chosen to rest your head in the crook of his neck. Time stands still as you simply look at each other, as you lose yourself in those bright, sharp eyes.

You stick out your tongue at him, and Pavia blows a raspberry at you. Sure, he might be plenty annoying on his own, but together you're both insufferable and unstoppable.

#reverse 1999 #reverse: 1999 #reverse 1999 pavia #reverse 1999 x reader #pavia #dreamy sigh. i love overly complex relationships that can be interpreted in 20 different ways #yeah you hate each other. yeah you love each other. yeah you cant stand each other. yeah you cant literally live without each other #yeah hes your best friend. yeah hes the bane of your existence. and yeah youre his only lifeline. yeah youre the only one he trusts #love having relationships with The Eldritch tm #if some of this sounds suggestive its bc i love romantizicing body possession and body sharing and symbiotes theyre my favorite thing ever

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karlachismylife · 2 months ago

Text

Temptation When I Look At You

Oh boy this actually was a struggle... I actually don't know why, because this is like the most Gaz response ever, but the situation and setting just weren't coming to me at all? I was actually so surprised that I couldn't think of at least ONE situation where this exchange could happen. Maybe because it just seems too single-track? Anyway, I don't feel like this is good, which is a great pity, cuz I wanted to do more Gaz :( But I hope it finds its enjoyers. I still put a lot of love for the pretty trixter boy into this. Might be self-indulgent and thus annoying... and honestly there's not much Kyle here... yeah, I'm just insecure about this one, but it is what it is, definitely couldn't do a better one. Next time maybe? And it somehow ended up being longer that Ghost's... I don't know what I'm doing.

CW: gn!reader, reader is bad with social cues (author is too and it probably shows), fluffy pining and awkward flirting for the pretty boy Kyle.

(Title from "Temptaion" by The Flirts)

also no it's not horny but i gave up on searching for an Elliot gif where he's not naked and accepted my fate

Not being good at flirting and reading it has never actually been that much of a problem for you. Sure, you've had your awkward moments, some downright embarassing, some midnight realizations a week later (ah so THAT'S what they wanted from me!) - but overall, it's not that bad. You're not completely oblivious and you can flirt back and forth, you can more or less tell someone's showing interest in you - or show it back. That has always been good enough for you.

Until you saw him.

You're not sure what it is about this guy in particular - yes, he is very, very handsome, but looks alone aren't usually enough to make you feel that enigmatic pull in your chest and the need to try and talk to the person that makes you feel this way. As you watch him across the tables of this fun boardgame event you came to with your friends, you feel more and more charmed. You can't even hear his voice as he talks to his game opponents from here, so it's not that either.

He just has an aura. A cheezy romantic film protagonist aura. The one the audience can't help but fall in love with and root for - the kind, noble, attentive, caring, respectful, charismatic, funny and cheeky modern knight aura.

You relay that all to your friends and they all turn around to look at the guy - they couldn't be more synchronized if they tried, and you facepalm hard, because you didn't even want to make a big deal out of it, but now of course he'll notice.

The thing is, you're perfecrly happy just basking in this sweet, slightly dizzifying feeling of this movie-character bloke's presense. It feels good, puts you in a dreamy state, and you don't need more - after all, this is just a vibe you mostly created in your head. Trying to get closer to the person probably will only destroy it since he's most definitely not a movie character. Why even burden a man with some expectations and ruin your own fun?

"Wanna go talk to him?" Right. Your friends aren't in on your inner peace with never getting to know the stranger you were so quick to idolize. One of them even motions with their head in the direction of the man, and if he somehow missed the little swan ballet your favourite muppets were showing earlier staring at him, he definitely notices the gesture now.

Curious brown eyes snap up, immediately locking with yours, and an absolutely charming, too sweet to be just polite, smile stretches on his full lips before he seemingly goes back to explaining something about a game card his rowdy-looking playmate is holding.

Damn, he really isn't helping you to shake the heart-shaped pink glasses off, is he?

"No," you can barely tear you eyes away, but you still see one of your friends blatantly grabbing your cards and going through them. The cards that are supposed to be your closed hand. "I'll be doing movie stuff tonight. Always wanted to try."

"What do you mean, "movie stuff"? Gonna ram into him holding a stack of papers hoping he'll help you pick them up?" Another friend does you a service and yanks your cards from the thief's hand, putting them back in front of you - not before looking at them, of course. Unbearable.

"Kinda, yeah. I mean, not that, but you know... stare at him, then look away as he notices... what else is there?" You sigh and put your cards back into the deck, exchanging them for a new hand. "I just wanna see if it actually reads in real life. What, you were never interested in how they manage to realize they're attracted to each other before exchanging a single word in the movies?!"

Several pairs of eyes blink at you silently, and you realize you asked the wrong people.

"The only movies I watch are fucking nature documentaries, babe, they use their noses and mating calls to figure this shit out."

"It's movie magic, normal people talk to each other, exchange numbers and then go on three awkward dates to leave with another girl from the third one."

"Why don't you just start going out with girls already-"

"But WHAT IF I'm not into them?"

"You made us watch six Resident Evil films just because they had Milla Jovovich in them, I'm pretty sure..."

You tune out in the middle of your friends' loving banter and find yourself shuffling the deck for too long as you stare at the victim of your affections. He's laughing and you can make the sound out as he pats his big buddy with a mohawk on the shoulder.

When he catches you looking again, you shift your eyes automaticly. Huh. Looks like you started your little game already. There's really no harm in trying to see how this movie magic holds up in real life, right? You're ready for your plan to lead nowhere. You're here for fun.

That's how you quickly realize just how bad you're actually at this. Watching him and hiding your eyes with a smile that actually lifts the corners of your lips naturally is not that hard, even if it makes you irritatingly distracted during the game - and therefore the punching bag of the evening, but the rest of this social play is harder than any strategy you're trying to pull to get a comeback in this round. As you have to draw another heap of punishment cards, you catch your movie guy smiling again, and you smile back - only to realize that he's actually listening to his other mate's story. Kinda embarassing, but you remind yourself this isn't supposed to lead anywhere.

And you'll never see this guy again, so just bear through.

Next time he actually walks past you - to get some more plastic chips they need for their game, and you follow him with your eyes - actually appreciating his physique in the process, damn, he really is good-looking - and run your hand over your hair in what you feel like should be subtle flirty manner. He notices, eyes narrowing with that smile again, and maybe - you're not sure, and that's how you remember why you actually don't get those fucking movies - nods at you. Or maybe he just moved his head in a perfectly natural way navigating the passages between tables.

"Pathetic," offers your friend a helpful constructive criticism as always. "Honestly painful to watch."

"What's painful to watch?" Ah, and there's the last piece of your friend group, late as always, plopping down on the couch next to you after they've successfully obstructed the view of your movie prince's ass.

"See that hot guy? Grey Henley? He's a lab rat for our dear one's flirting experiment. They've been staring at each other for the last fourty minutes like we're stuck in a bad porn opening scene."

"Why don't you just go talk to him like always?.." Before your lovable I-Don't-Know-What-Clocks-Are friend even finishes, everyone at your table lets out very sarcastic "Hmm", "I wonder why", "Ooh, there we go" and "Why did no one come up with this idea, huh?". Shitheads shoving you under fire.

"Because that's not the point! I'm not trying to get anywhere, I just wanted to see if-" you're forced to hush your own heated retort as the Hot Guy passes your table again. He probably noticed that - if that barely noticeable glance with a curiously raised eyebrow is meant for you, of course, and you suddenly feel flustered.

Social experiments are hard, man.

"I don't get it, but you do you, I guess, as long as he keeps distracting you so we can rob your bank." With a groan, you grumble that they are the worst friends ever, and get your head back into the game.

For about fifteen minutes, then you find yourself locking eyes with the guy again, watching as he leans to whisper something into the Mohawk's ear keeping eye contact with you for some reason.

Something shifts inside you when you see that big guy turn and stare at you with zero subtlty and a comfusing, too intense look. He earns a slap upside his shaven head from the movie guy and sticks his big nose back into their game, but the insecutiry lingers, slowly wiping your smile off your face.

What if you're actually coming off as weird? No, worse - what if they think you're too persistent? Maybe the movie guy tried sending you hints he isn't interested and you missed them all? That actually sounds quite realistic with your lack of understanding what exactly you're doing. And now you're annoying him to the point he has to note that to his friend. And you're ruining what is probably just a fun game night he wanted to enjoy with his buddies. And- oh that's why you always preferred to be direct.

"Hey, what's wrong? Did he flip you off or something?" Your own friends - actual treasures, no matter how much you all are roasting each other - get quieter too, turning (thankfully, not all at the same time this time) to look at the guy.

"No, no, nothing like that. I just think maybe you're right, stupid idea." You exhale, feeling better after a supportive pat on your shoulder. "Well, at least I can say I tried that method too, right?"

"Experience," notes the Milla Jovovich fan with a finger raised in the air and absolutely mentor tone right before beating your card with a heavy-hitter. "You had fun and that's all that matters. Now gimmie your cards, it says I can take three of yours of my choice, cuz you sucked ass."

You get over your short moment of embarassement rather quickly once you fully focus on your game - and you even win some back, ending up second-to-last. How did the late one manage to win, you don't know.

"Another round?" As you agree, they start gathering and shuffling cards, and you glance around, noticing that the free snacks table just got toped up with a fresh pastry basket.

"I'll go grab cookies, you want some?" You take your friends' orders for all kinds of stuff and squeeze along the narrow passages to get to the desired snacks.

It's as you're topping off your plate with a little hill of cookies, brownies an cinnamon rolls that someone's dark skinned arms with grey sleeves rolled up nicely come into view, pouring tea in a thermos mug.

"What's gotten you so shy suddenly? I thought we were having fun."

Your pastry Tower of Babel crashes and tumbles almost off your plate, resembling something more like a volcano eruption aftermath than a proper construction. You don't need to guess who that voice belongs to - honestly, that effortlessly sultry, teasing, movie star timbre can only belong to one person - but you follow the steam raising from his mug and are greeted by the smiling amber eyes you've been staring into half of the evening.

"Sorry, I was just... sorry for staring, that was inappropriate. Hope you have a nice game, still." An apology is due, you think, and you really hope he accepts it. He seems like a chill dude, the kind you don't want to upset because they just don't deserve it.

He deserves to feel good and be surrounded by people that make it happen.

"Hardly inappropriate, but thanks for the apology," he chuckles, and you hide your eyes in the baked ruins you're trying to fix before they fall onto the floor instead of reaching your friends. "Is that why you stopped looking? Or did you lose interest and I'm being inappropriate now?"

Since when did direct approach start making you so flustered? Isn't this what you're actually used to? "This" being actually asking normal questions, not standing so close to a movie protagonist that smells even better than all the fresh pastry on the table in front of you - tastes better probably, too...

"What was that?" He leans closer and you're on fire like a match, in an instant. Did you just say some of that out loud? Is he laughing? No, better question, is he mocking you? Because what you hear next is... "Oh, nothing, Kyle, I just said I couldn't stop eyefucking you because I want to kiss you so bad. Well, then ask me nicely for a kiss, pretty. After I take you out and learn your name."

And just like that, the scene ends, with the charmer back at his table and a piece of paper with his number on top of your crumbling cookie architecture.

Handwritten. Just for you. From Kyle.

"Did you really have to flirt with him over my brownies?" You don't really remember how you got back to your friends. Your cookies getting split between everyone as a tax for you taking too long.

"Props to the guy for saving you from yourself, honestly." Thermos cap filled with tea lands into your hand, the other occupied with the phone number. Finally, you blink, glancing over to Kyle's table - he winks at you, eyes crinkling. Not so subtle.

"Guys, you know, worst part is, I still don't get how this movie shit works..."

#juju's love is illegal celebration #gaz x reader #gaz cod #kyle gaz garrick #call of duty #cod #cod fluff #gaz fluff #fluff #oneshot

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s1m0nth3swag · 8 months ago

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Leon S. Kennedy X M!Reader

A little self indulgent fic, because Leon is my husband (real) (not clickbait) (we are cuddling on the couch as of writing this). Fluffy but I DEFINETLY have some silly nsfw indulgences with him :)

Fun fact a chainsaw actually went off while I wrote this so that is definetly a sign from the universe.

I changed some stuff about my layout etc for this one, but the spacing is a little weird for this one because I had to write it on another medium and not tumblr, since for some reason I couldn't save at some points. (tho i think i fixed it pretty well)

may or may not be a little rushed at the end because I got new scenarios for Leon and uhm!!! BIG need to write but I wanted to finish this one to properly introduce my new layout and stuff!

WARNINGS/ CONTENT INFO; Male Reader, Leon is a silly guy, mentions and describtions of alcoholism, lots of bumps and small issues because Leon doesn't know how to properly care for someone and neither does reader, Reader is mentioned to be younger & shorter than Leon and to not understand social cues at times, Vendetta to Death Island Leon (my favs <3), slight mention of Death, slipped my head cannon in here that Vendetta Leon was in a long depressive episode and actually got to heal some time before Death Island, soft angst because Reader thinks Leon is straight, slight themes of bullying (though its never said to be that), pretty long (surprised at myself for that), only like halfway proof read

When you met Leon for the first time you swore you'd dislike him. You had just recently started working as a DSO agent and were supposed to work under him for a while, because he was "a competent older agent" and "knew what he was doing". Yet there he was, hungover from last night, wishing he already had another bottle of literally whatever alcohol he could acquire. For a second, you believed that he was someone else, surely not the Leon Scott Kennedy you had only heard praises of, someone who was held over your head as role model during the gruesome training you had to go through. Not a chance this poor excuse of a DSO agent was the person you had been told to be like. He had looked at you, grumbled something under his breath, and then strutted into his office. He hadn't even paid you a second glance. You didn't know whether to be offended or glad about it. If he didn't like you, you'd get assigned to another DSO agent, someone who might actually look the part. Someone who wouldn't be such a lowlife as Leon seemed to be. You'd take that over Leon any day, you told yourself.

Nothing prepared you for what would actually happen. Sure, Leon seemed to absolutely hate that you had been assigned to him, but he didn't order for you to get assigned to someone else. He was pretty chill about literally everything, actually. You had been with him for about a week when you started to wonder why he wouldn't just let you go to another agent, especially since he made a point of continously telling you what you did wrong, and that you should just quit the job. A few times you almost snapped at him, almost demanded to know why he was being this difficult. You hadn't trained for months and months just to get told off by this drunken mistake of a guy. You couldn't though. Leon Scott Kennedy, as much as you hated it, was still your superior, and if you didn't want to get fired because you snapped at some stupid remarks. You wouldn't let yourself drop that low because of him. That'd be the worst way to lose the job you had worked so fucking hard for.

You could deal with it though.

And you would.

The first time you started hating Leon a little less was when you were practically baking in your office on a hot summers day. You had just recently gotten your own office, after having to share with Leon for a few weeks - you only now had worked up the status to have your own. However, your AC was positively broken. YOu guessed that was the only reason why you got this office, no one else would want to work in it, so give it to the stupid newbie who won't complain. You sat on your desk, looking through files while having your window wide open - luckily for you, the day was almost completely windless, no risk of government documents getting flown out like your life is some generic movie. You were melting, an honestly, the day couldn't get worse. At least ypu thought that until Leon strutted in. IN your mind, you let out an exhausted groan. After a night fully worked though, a whole day of sitting in the worst heat and multiple files already worked through, you really didn't want to deal with his bullshit as well. You gave the taller man the slightest glare, waiting for him to speak. Instead he placed a bowl on your desk, on top some file - you'd be mad about that later, as you figured out that it had left a stain.

Icecream.

He had brought you icecream.

Your expression turned into one of surprise and shock as you watched him simply leave - he didn't even tell you that you were working too slow or that you had more to do than just sit around. The first thought that came to mind was that he had poisened the sweet treat, but honestly you couldn't be bothered as you cooled yourself from the inside with it. It didn't help much, but the thought had been... weirdly sweet. Well, at least until you noticed the previously mentioned stain and cursed Leon again.

Screw him and his weird gestures which got you into trouble for getting government files dirty.

But at least you got cooled down a little.

The second time you knew that your feelings for your superior agent had changed was when the office held a party upon another agent returning from a particularly gruesome mission. You didn't know the agent's name, but apparently she was now a pretty big deal around the office. Most agents were getting drunk, having fun, and enjoying the opportunity of having a proper break for once - all of you were overworked, definitely. You had simply sat yourself in a corner, completely unused to how busy the office now seemed. Normally you were tucked back into your own, buried behind files and the dreams of soon going on your own mission and returning as a hero, not out and about with everyone. There were only a few people you actually spoke to, mostly superiors and some agents that graduated the together with you. Though, in your defense, you had enough friends outside of work. At least you thought so.

Leon had strutted into the party fashionably late, already somewhat drunk and looking way too disheveled. He normally looked like a wet kitten picked up and brought inside out of pity - now it was somehow worse than that. Messy hair, eyebags way too big, face just a little paler than he normally was. You figured he wasn't feeling too well, but still came to the party. Probably for the free booze. Still, you felt obligated to keep an eye on him, just to be safe. He was your superior, you couldn't just let him do stupid shit. It would put a bad light on you as well, and you simply couldn't have Leon put you in yet another spot of annoyance.

Most of the night went well. Leon didn't pull any shit, and you weren't spoken to by anyone, which was a huge plus to you, because looking after Leon was already like taking care of a toddler, and talking to someone would have made that task a lot harder. After a little more time though, Leon had caught onto your slight staring and confidently walked over to you, basically glaring you down. You carefully started writing your will in your head, because you were convinced he would kill you on the spot - or, even worse for you, get you fired by labeling you as some creep.

"Something on my face or what's got you staring like that?" He ruffly asks, looking down at you with an unreadable expression. You let a sigh slip from your lips. "No, sir. I just figured I'd have to watch you so you don't make a fool of yourself." You then answered. If you were going to be humiliated in public, you at least wouldn't go down without showing Leon what a hypocrite he was.

You were once again caught off-guard by him when he actually started chuckling at your words. It was a pleasant sound, you had to admit. Nice and deep, but not cold, a pretty inviting sound actually. You couldn't help but let the slight shock you felt show on your face, which made him let out a breathy laugh. "What, did ya think I'd be mad at that? You'll have to try better, kid." He then grins, walking off to leave you alone, completely and utterly confused.

Leon left the party with some other agent. A pretty, young woman.

Your stomach twisted as you watched him step out the door, an arm around her waist and a charming smile on his lips.

That night was the first time you couldn't sleep because of Leon Scott Kennedy.

The last time you felt awful about yourself because of Leon was when you were told you'd get your first solo mission. It had been a month or two after the office party. A month or two after you noticed that you maybe didn't hate him as much as you thought you did. A week after Leon had started taking care of himself again, gaining muscle and wearing suits to the office, which he hadn't done once in the time you knew him. Three days after you had figured out that you also weren't as straight as you thought you were.

You were underprepared, wouldn't get the proper equipment, and the mission itself was total bullshit. The notes didn't make sense, the objective was way too random and you hadn't found any previous intel on anything mentioned in the file. It was like you were supposed to be confused by it, because everytime you even tried to ask someone about it, they'd simply give you an apologetic smile and went on about their day.

You were convinced that this was a plot to have you die on a random mission, because you had been too annoying, or made too many mistakes. Something. Anything. It didn't make sense.

For some reason, you found yourself standing in front of Leons office at last. Totally not because you were going to beg someone for intel, and weirdly enough you’d be the least embarrassed if the person you were begging was Leon. You gathered the courage to actually knock on the glass door, already feeling slightly nervous and uneasy. You didn't know how he'd respond, if he'd call you stupid, or worse. Your already close to fragile mind wouldn't be able to take that after spending sleepless nights because of him. A deep breath, a muttered curse, and his door swiftly flying open before you could even properly knock.

“Who the fuck do you think you are standing in front of my door— oh. It's you.” He spoke, all anger in his voice dissolving as he looked down at you, a complete nervous wreck. His tie was loose, he had probably been tugging on it,and his hair was a tad bit messy again. By now, that was actually weird for him, since he seemed to genuinely care for his appearance. “Sorry, I uh… I just got this mission and I'm uhm.. a little confused.” You muttered, an embarrassed flush creeping onto your cheeks as you gaze drifted to the floor - completely uncharacteristic for you, who normally stood your ground against him. Leon stared at you for a moment before he sighed and stepped aside to let you inside his office. He wordlessly took the folder with information, which you had been clutching onto for dear life, from you, swiftly looking through it, his expression growing more and more exhausted and angry.

He'd say you're stupid. Definitely. He thought you were an absolute idiot.

What you didn't think he'd do is let out a groan, open his office door, and yell out: “You lot are fucking assholes!”

You stared at him in disbelief, by now having taken a seat on the small couch that Leon had placed in his office some time between the party and you getting your own office. With absolutely no clue what was going on, you watched Leon step out, argue with someone - a female voice, as far as you could make out. You didn't exactly know what to do, especially since Leon hadn't told you a thing. You were simply sitting by, waiting for orders, getting yelled at, or fired - you didn't know what to expect either, if you were honest.

When Leon returned, you had been picking at the skin of your fingers for a good five minutes or so. He closed his office door and strutted to his chair, swiftly falling into it with a heavy groan.

“I'm sorry sir I just–” You started, interrupted by a dismissive wave. “There's no mission. It was a prank. I told them not to do it. Their reasoning was that you needed to get out of your office more and this would force you to talk to someone. They didn't plan ahead though, and simply told everyone that they'd give you a fake mission, without telling anyone what to say. I'm having her write an incident report about this. You can go home.” He simply spoke, leaning back in his chair as he looked at you. His words practically beat you down.

A prank.

A stupid fucking prank and you had gotten this upset over it.

You stared at the floor, desperately trying to even begin to understand that stupid reason. You didn't like socializing. Simple as that. Leon didn't do it, but he didn't get pranked and laughed at for it.

“She..?” You then asked, looking up at Leon.

“That agent that we had the party for. She grew over her own head, thinking she could rule the office.” He shrugged as you got up. “Where are you going, kid?” Leon wondered, clearly a little confused by the look on your face.

“Socializing.” You simply spoke, unsure of what you'd actually do. You were upset, angry… a lot more than that. You wanted to beat her, calmly tell her why what she did was wrong. A lot of conflicting emotions and thoughts.

“Instead of chewing her face off, how about you just come over to mine later, and we drink our asses into oblivion?” Leon sighed. He had dealt with stuff like that before, surprisingly as it was. You didn't make it particularly easy for yourself, though, as you didn't even seem to notice when you were getting out of line. Hell, you stood up to his gruff demeanor without a second thought - maybe you were just a bit crazy. Maybe a little more than just a bit.

That's how you ended up on the couch of Leon's living room instead, beer in hand, the TV on, Leon beside you with a respectable amount of space in between the two of you. His couch was comfortable, probably having been used for more than just a few years, as you could feel yourself slowly sinking into it while sipping your beer silently. Normally, you'd become more social when drinking. But normally, you weren't in your superiors' apartment. Nonetheless, a superior you had grown to realize you had a crush on.

Thinking about it, it had been obvious, really.

You don't think you've ever actually hated Leon. You just thought you did because you had actually felt like that for the first time in possibly years. A nervous glance over at Leon let you know that the other was focused On the TV, which stupidly led you to eye him cautiously, your gaze trailing along his face, jaw, neck… you felt a little weird when looking at him like this. He had pulled off his tie, his shirt slightly unbuttoned. Now that he wasn't wearing a blazer, you could see that his shirt was the tiniest bit too tight around his biceps - you swallowed harshly before forcing yourself to look away.

Leon hadn't noticed how awkward you felt around him. He was already at his third beer himself, seemingly a routine for him. You, on the other hand, were still sipping the first half of your first. Soft concerns about Leon's alcohol consumption filled your mind, but it wasn't your place to judge or comment on it. It was overall known at the office that Leon struggled - he frequented the office therapist, but only to sit there in silence as he stared the poor guy down. He only went because it was mandatory for agents after an unfortunate accident, a story no one you asked would ever expand on. You figured you wouldn't want to know anyway.

“You do know that the others pick on you constantly, right? There's a reason you have so many files.” Leon suddenly huffed, resting his head on his fist as he glanced over at you. You shrugged awkwardly. “I never noticed anything. I figured that… well, that everyone had so much work.” You mumbled. All this had been a bad idea. Definitely. This was stupid. Leon sighed your name, and it made a small shiver run down your back. He had used your first name, not the generic ‘Agent’, or simply your last name. It surprised you that he even knew your last name. You couldn't keep your cheeks from flushing.

“Listen, I thought you'd get it yourself, you aren't the type to be this… I don't know, obedient?” The older agent grumbled, shaking his head softly. You could only watch his soft strands of hair shake, wondering if they'd feel the way they looked. It took you a moment to realize his words.

A little dumbfounded, you asked him to explain what he meant by that. He didn't think you were ‘obedient’? Was that a good thing? Seeing as how your job was quite literally all about following orders, you feared that it might not be. Leon struggled to find the words to properly explain what he meant. “Like.. You stand up for yourself. Always, no matter what. It just.. feels weird to see you like.. like you can't take care of yourself? You normally speak your mind, but at the same time you're scared of not following everything to standard. You're.. weird, honestly. I don't mean that in a bad way, particularly.” He shrugged, and it was noticeable that he also didn't know how to deal with this. The two of you sat in silence for a moment.

“I don't notice.” You then mumble, taking a sip from your beer. Leon looks at you in confusion, so you clarify. “When I'm being harsh, or mean, or whatever. I don't notice. I speak my mind because I never got told that that was a bad thing at times. I guess I learned from childhood that most people don't appreciate it when I simply tell them that their life decisions statistically suck, but it never sticks.” The soft shrug that you add at the end earns you a chuckle from Leon. A sound you grew to appreciate more than anything. ��Is that why you don't talk to people?” He asks, nudging your knee with his foot playfully - this is probably the most relaxed you've ever seen him. “I do talk to people.” You grumble, a soft pout on your lips. “Just not coworkers.” Leon chuckles again. If you could, you'd bottle the sound and replay it forever. There's a soft silence again, but this time, you are oddly aware of the fact that Leon is looking at you, almost the same way you were beforehand. You feel the sudden urge to chug your beer in one go.

"I really want to help you, kid." The older agent then sighs, shaking his head softly while getting up to go get himself another beer. "Surprising, I thought you wanted me gone." You huffed. The alcohol had probably loosened your tongue, and you didn't want to have to wonder about Leons actions anymore. One day he'd be nice to you, and then the next he'd glare at you like he was on a murder spree. It was confusing. He claimed to want to help you, but never actually did anything, it seems. You desperately wanted answers - partly because it would probably help you deal with the definitely improper feelings for Leon. He only stared at you for a moment, before sighing again and shortly leaving the room. You had fucked up, hadn't you? You made him uncomfortable or something.

"I don't.. want you to leave. Not fully, anyway." Leon hummed as he walked back into the living room, a glass in his hand. You guessed he had gotten something stronger than a simple beer. "This job ruins people. I mean, you know how I acted when you first got into the office. I was actually the reason that the whole therapist rule was put up..." He chuckles awkwardly as he moves to sit beside you again. You nervously notice that he's sitting closer than before. "I was forced into this, you chose it. And seriously, it's a stupid choice. This job gets you killed, brutaly so. It doesn't even have to be a Bioterrorist mission, every other one is awful as well." He explains, running a hand through his hair after taking a quite big sip from his glass. You're reminded of your beer, so you take a sip as well. You aren't quite sure what to say, you don't think you have a valid reason for your choice either. "The fact that you don't understand how to... well.. properly act doesn't help that either." He mutters, looking at you expectantly. A soft shrug is all you can muster up, still trying to think of the words to bring your point across - if you even had an actual point. Some silent moments passed. "I guess I just always wanted to be.. a hero.. of sorts." You then mumbled awkwardly. "The stories we were told of you were just a way to get me even more determined and well.. now it's too late to quit. I didn't go through all that just to go work in some coffee shop." You added, looking at the other cautiously. You weren't sure if he'd like your answer, even though it was mostly how you truly felt. Leon simply nodded as you spoke. “Yeah, I can respect that.” He then answers, another blanket of silence enveloping the two of you. Both of you sip at your respective drinks, caught in your thoughts for a moment.

“You got yourself together though, didn't you?” You then asked, unsure if the question would cross a line. The way Leon looked just a few months ago came to mind, the imagery of a wet kitten. The drunkard you had ‘despised’. Leon thought for a moment, a soft hum coming from him as he weighed his response. “I guess I did.” He then shrugged. “A friend of mine made me realize that I couldn't sulk around forever. That I had to keep going, even though it was hard.” Leon added. You watched as he downed his drink and set the glass down on the small table in front the couch. It reminded you of how awkward this situation actually was. Alone with your superior in his apartment, drinking alcohol all because you couldn't properly socialize with the rest of your coworkers. A bit ironic, actually. The only person you could talk to was the man that made you realize you were into guys. You huffed at that realization, slightly staring at Leon, who was apparently zoned out a little. The alcohol was getting to your head properly now - you'd always been somewhat of a lightweight - and you couldn't help but sigh as a strand of hair fell into Leons face, reaching out to brush it behind his ear again. The second your fingers made contact with the soft skin of his cheek you pulled back again, awkwardly aware of how weird that just was. Your cheeks flushed a deep red as Leon shot up to look at you, caught off-guard by the sudden touch. “Your uhm.. I just wanted to fix your hair. Sorry.” You mumbled, looking away from the older man in embarrassment. Neither of you said anything for a moment - it wasn't helping your state that this silence wasn't as pleasant as the others had been - and you already thought of the way Leon would tell you to leave.

Instead, you heard Leon chuckle as he gently took your chin to turn your head back towards him. "You could've just said that you wanted to touch me." He grins, awfully close to you. Your brain malfunctions for a second. "Come on, it's fine." The other adds, and you can form enough of a thought to carefully brush the hair out his face. His bright blue eyes dug into yours - your heart stopped for a second - before you pushed away slightly. This was crossing a line, no matter how much you wanted to be close to Leon, you wouldn't have it like this. He was probably just drunk and acting stupid. There was no way he'd ever actually be interested in you, in any way, shape, or form. Hell, Leon probably wasn't into men at all - a thought quickly dismantled as Leon suddenly leaned towards you and pressed a kiss against your lips. You were too shocked to react, simply jerked away as the abrupt action wasn't what you had ever thought would happen. "Shit. I'm sorry, I read that wrong didn't I?" Leon immediatly says, his expression showing that he hadn't meant to do anything you didn't want. "I just- I didn't think you'd... be into guys..? Let alone me." You spoke hastily, not wanting him to feel bad - not when inside you were fireworks going off. "I'm not, usually. You're just.. different. Only had this one time before and well that was... ended prematurely." He chuckled awkwardly. "I'm willing to try though, with you. Only if you want to though, of course. I'm not forcing you or anything, I now realise that's awful to say when I'm literally your superior and you probably will feel pressured-" Leon starts rambling, running a hand through his hair. It was actually kinda cute to see him like this, somewhat panicked because he wants to make sure that you know he doesn't want you to be uncomfortable. "It's fine. If you're actually willing to, I'd uhm.. I'd really love to try." You answer, your voice just slightly higher than usually because of how nervous you are. "You are?" Leon asks, just to make sure. A huge grin spreads on his lips as soon as you nod. "Really?" He asks again, excitement clear in his voice. "Really." You answer after clearing your throat. You want to jump up and down in excitement, scream out loud, literally whatever, because you're genuinely on the verge of getting to date Leon. You're caught off guard when Leon stands up, pulling you off the couch as well. You were painfully reminded of the fact that he was taller than you as you stood right in front of him, looking up. Your face flushed when Leon cupped your cheek with his hand. "Would you like to be my boyfriend?" He asked softly, almost as if he was scared that your answer could be anything but a clear yes. "Yes. Definitely. I really want to be your boyfriend." You answer.

Leon kisses you, and you swear it's the best you've ever felt.

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon resident evil #leon vendetta #leon death island #leon x you #leon x reader #male reader #x male reader

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ragnarokhound · 4 months ago

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>:3

just saying Icarus au would be too easy for this rn

uhhm

JayTim fire water personalities, clashing, hurting each other, fitting together as opposites

still not really an au hmmm

just gonna keep throwing ideas here

ohh wanna see a mermaid au in your style

or one of those free willy mermaid aus

deaging 🤔 of one character and the other gotta take care of them

bound by magic (in what way? who knows)

take ur pick

For the ask game!

AUGH ABYSS HOW DO I CHOOSE

But omg mermaids is so fun... It is one of my all time favorite self-indulgent urban fantasy aus haha, I still want to finish my teen wolf mermaid fic... Someday...

Mermaid aus are so good for the yearning. The secret keeping of it all, the 'we're from different worlds and idk how it will work unless one of us makes a sacrifice' of it all. And I kind of sort of already played this trope straight with the selkie fic I wrote for jaytim week this year, haha (selkies aren't technically the same as mermaids, but there's a big overlap there lol)

But I also like that the existence of Aquaman in DC lets you flip that trope on its head while still complying with canon! There totally could be real life mermaids in DC because low-key there already are lmao

This isn't quite what you asked for, but in that vein:

please entertain with me Atlantean!Tim who admires the Bats from afar. Most of my exposure to Atlantis/Aqualad is via the Young Justice cartoon (the glow up between the first seasons and the later seasons is still insane to me lol) so please imagine Tim found out about Robin when YJ made an appearance in Atlantis, or Tim got himself on the same track as, say, Lagoon Boy and hopes to join one day. He has the biggest crush on Jason Todd and Jason doesn't even know he exists

There are two vastly different directions I am torn between from here, but the funnier one is: Tim basically follows Jason home to Gotham. Cue Gotham getting a new harbor cryptid that's just an Atlantean with a crush and a very robust immune system lmao

Tim gets horribly sick for the first week or two (he's not keeping track) while his system reacts to the bullshit that is Gotham Bay - but he is determined to stick it out. Naturally, he gets found by a bat while he's shivering near the docks one day, following up on rumors about the kid from the black lagoon who keeps dodging harbor security. Bonus points if it's Babs, and she agrees not to tell Batman and Robin, at least until Tim is healthy. Bonus bonus points if it's not a bat who finds him, but Catwoman :^) (Fishy-fishy, I wouldn't let a goldfish swim around in this water, where are your parents, you're coming home with me--)

Meet-cute between Jaybin and Harbor Cryptid Tim involves a smuggling operation that Jason's been tracking. During the sting, he gets in over his head, ends up in the harbor, and Tim saves him from drowning

Jason knows Bruce hates it when Supers and other capes come to Gotham. He knows who Aquaman is. Ergo, he has to keep Tim a secret from Bruce. Cue sneaking around and hiding from Batman and all kinds of teenage dating tropes and shenanigans. Tim blushes 24/7 because, omg he's hanging out with his crush and he isn't freaked out by the whole Atlantean thing and he's helping Robin wow; meanwhile Jason is fascinated by Tim, exhilarated to have a secret from Bruce, and wondering more and more what it would be like to hold Tim's hand.

(Bonus: When Bruce finds out about Tim, the first thing he does is tattle on him to Aquaman. Follow those dominoes down to Tim being an Aqualad equivalent on the Young Justice team a few years down the road. OwO When they find Red Hood with the League of Assassins, Tim is right there with Dick trying to get him back.)

When I started writing this out, I did not intend for this to become cute baby jaytim with an atlantean twist, but that's where it ended up going haha

#IT WAS HARD TO PICK WHICH ONE TO THINK ABOUT #i do love bound together by magic aus too...#forced proximity my beloved....#i thiiiiink yasmindifference? has a forced proximity magical bond jaytim fic that is as yet incomplete and i think about it all the time #forced proximity because magic is one of my all time favorite tropes fjdslfjsalfd #jaytim #deepwithintheabyss #ask game #not fic #my writing #asked and answered

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shibalen · 2 years ago

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♡︎ 𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒄𝒉𝒖𝒑 𝒇𝒐𝒓 @fallaciousjustice

i match you with . . .

𝑱𝑰𝑹𝑶 𝑲𝒀𝑶𝑲𝑨 !!

omg the coolest pair on the block, where can I get you guys' charisma??

Right from the get-go Jiro would love your sense of fashion + the sunglasses and gloves. She thinks they match your vibe perfectly. Paired with your confidence and honesty, you're as perfect as a human being can get.

Jiro herself is quite bold too which fits well with your values. There is freedom in having someone you can be 100% honest with and not worry about them taking it personally.

Both of you appreciate that in each other, so you have a lot of common ground. Get in the car, it's ride or die with you guys all the way!

I can imagine all the sass and sarcastic jokes you share would be top quality *mwah* not to mention relentlessly teasing each other and everybody else around you. I fear for the poor soul Denki who becomes your next target.

Your natural talent in problem-solving and unique perspectives intrigue her! She asks for your opinions whenever she has trouble understanding something and you never fail to give an eye-opening answer.

As a streak of contrast, however, Jiro is a very chill person, even coming off as indifferent, so your enthusiasm and the way you present youself is endearing to her. You're quick to change the atmosphere which leaves her amazed and wishing she at times could take a page from your book.

Though she carries herself with self-assurance, Jiro is sometimes reluctant to show her sensitive side. So, you help her be more confident and letting that part of her shine more often ♡︎

On the other hand, she saves you from awkward social situations when the cues might not reach you. She honestly thinks it's hilarious but it's also one of the things she likes about you. It's refreshing not to go with the flow every now and then after all.

She is also very good at putting your mind at ease if it happens to be running overdrive. May give you a gentle zap to remind you that your ideas are fine and there's no need to second-guess yourself.

You also match energies when it comes to being creative. Although Jiro focuses on music, she thinks it's super cool you're into creative writing and art and would gladly indulge in them with you. They might even inspire her in songwriting?

That said, she loves playing music together: you with the ukulele and she with her acoustic guitar. It would be for your ears only, your private little pastime. And if you're interested, she can teach you another instrument (secretly actually anticipating when you would ask—)

The good old height difference™ You can make fun of her for her shortness, just know its your kneecaps on the line and that she's not afraid to get you back with an equally mean joke.

Overall your dynamic has such style and charm! Beneath the playful teasing and chill vibes a solid bond of loyalty and mutual understanding ties you and Jiro together ♡

♡ 𝑴𝑬𝑬𝑻𝑰𝑵𝑮

You were out doing some clothes shopping a few days before the UA entrance exam. You were quite confident you would get in, now all you needed were some new clothes to be ready for a refreshing beginning.

Out in the open markets there were many things that caught your attention, but one particular accessory stuck out: a silver bracelet that would go perfectly with a shirt you bought earlier.

Just as you reached for it, however, another hand did the same. You looked up to find a pair of obsidian eyes starting right back at you. After a moment of suprise, a playful, competitive smile lazily stretched across her face.

"Sorry but I think I was about to get it first."

"Are you sure about that?"

You regarded each other steadily, both knowing what it was like to compete over limited merchandise. The one who offers the most wins.

Yet once again you got interrupted as a passing stranger snatched the bracelet from right underneath your eyes and broke into a sprint. How very bold of that guy.

Neither you nor the girl were willing to let the thief get off easy it seemed, both of you chasing after them before making a quick job of capturing them with your quirks.

When you returned the bracelet to the stall, she said you should have it because you were quicker to react than she was. The sellsman even let you have it for free despite that you were willing to pay for it!

You didn't introduce yourselves back then but on the next day when you met again at the UA entrance exam it was almost the first thing you did. The coincidence was just too funny.

After the exams and getting into the academy you hung out a lot with Jiro, and she really enjoyed your company, especially since sometimes the rest of the class could really be over-the-top (¯∇¯٥)

A good relationship starting with a strong friendship ♡︎

♡︎ 𝑩𝑳𝑼𝑹𝑩𝑺

So many fun and creative dates! It's never a boring moment with you. Jiro especially enjoys taking you to concerts (only if your sensory issues allow it) and music shops. But also just chilling together playing songs or writing is perfectly fine with her cause you're both introverted.

At first she didn't understand much about hockey but after you invited her out to play one winter evening she got surprisingly into it!

Now she joins you when you go to watch games and gets super hyped (though she is shy in showing it you can see her excitement clear as day heheh). Also cheers you on whenever you yourself are playing ♡︎

Coffee shops!! Either for studying or just chill dates. Often the Bakusquad joins you even if you didn't necessarily invite them along.

Jiro: "I'd like my coffee how I like my soul."

You: "Two extra sugars and whipped cream, please."

She has all your favourite coffee orders memorised and surprises you with them every now and then! Also takes note of whenever you have your eye on a certain art supply or piece of clothing so she could get you some of them as gifts (´,,•ω•,,)

Horror movie nights is a regular thing on weekends: you bring the best movie and Jiro supplies the snacks.

It's funny to observe how she subconsciously scoots closer to you when a more intense scene is playing. If anyone else would ask if she's spooked she'd say no but since it's you she'll admit it (but only a little!)

Yet haunted houses (real or organised) are completely fine?? When you get excited to go to one it's always so fun watching you get into the eerie mood. Probably has tried to sneak up on you to to see your reaction ๛ก(ｰ̀ωｰ́ก)

Jiro thinks your eyes are the prettiest things she has ever seen. Of course she never pesters you to take off your sunglasses but if you happen to, don't be surprised if she stares at you for a moment too long.

Probably not a lot of pda between you but cuddles in private are the comfiest! Just randomly lounging on top of each other or tucked in the arms of each other while doing your own thing or maybe brainstorming for plots and music~

𑁍 𝑱𝑬𝑾𝑬𝑳𝑳𝑬𝑹𝒀 𝑩𝑶𝑿

— favourite memory with you

The time when you wrote your first song together and played it. It started out as something not as serious, since you only jokingly asked her one day what kind background music would fit a certain scene you wrote for a story. After not finding anything online, Jiro started thinking about it harder and began writing down melodies. Then you pitched in your own ideas and eventually you had a whole theme for your story :0 It kinda became your themesong as well. The sentation of having created something together was just so incredibly thrilling and deepened your relationship even further. It was also the first time Jiro admitted to herself she had a crush on you. Your brilliant smile, your harmonious laughter when you thanked her—yep, she had it down bad . . .

— favourite place to kiss you

Classic cheek kisses because there she can actually reach you and it's just very wholesome anyway ♡ Also the back of your hand when you don't have gloves on since it is so rare and she's kinda smug about being one of the few people to be able to hold your hands like this.

— favourite nicknames to call you by

Ever since your first meeting she thinks the nickname Justice does fit you quite well. It's very playful and familiar so she often uses it as a greeting or a way to get your attention. She also likes silly ones like different marvel hero names considering how popular you are and how quick you are to jump into action. Maybe 'babe' on some special occasions :))

♫︎ 𝑴𝑼𝑺𝑰𝑪 𝑩𝑶𝑿

— Rhinestone Eyes by Gorillaz

— Mariposa by peach tree rascals (acoustic)

— Supermassive Black Hole by Muse

— Death Bed by Powfu ft. beabadoobee

— How Deep Is Your Love by Reneé Dominique (cover)

♡ runner up: Bakugo Katsuki

note: Hi! Here we are, thank you for being patient with me <33 I read from your profile that you're not active here much anymore but I hope you still log in one day and see this. Hopefully you are doing well and taking care of yourself!!

#len's matches #matchups #bnha matchups #mha matchups #fallaciousjustice

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fadinggalaxysalad · 3 months ago

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reblogging with your tags because YES! I'm going to make him so appealing to our resident Speedster right now. Completely self indulgent of course. Danny was a teenager once. Teenagers are constantly hungry, they're going through so much growing and school is exhausting and nearly half these kids have extracurriculars after school on top of all that. Danny's teaching them to cook which means? Danny gets to feed these kids. His room is known for always having snacks on hand for them to nab, even if their class isn't until afternoon or the next day. Danny didn't want to be a hero, but he still has that protection nudge and this helps that. Plus makes him a student favorite, he knows what having one teachers support can do for someone. Even if its something as simple as restocking homemade meal replacement bars for a kid in a less than stable home to shuffle a few extras into their bag before the weekend. Which means Mr Fenton (or alternative name if you want identity shift) is Bart Allen's favorite teacher.

Knowing that one size fits all learning doesn't work, Danny himself is proof of that doing helped him learn how to fight ghosts, is showing the kids how to work on side dishes while the main is doing their own thing. Your potatoes are boiling, we can start rolling out the dough for our crescent rolls and seeing that you can add 6 different fillings to make them a snack all their own. Kids are learning time management and the wonders of multiple alarms. Step by step print outs are given to all the students so kids who need that detailed check list have it and are never marked off if they need to tackle one part at a time to get it done. Participation grade weighs heavily in this course since there's always someone like Bart who can and will tackle several things to help their groups along. And if the occasional food fight crops up, as long as its cleaned it still counts. As long as there isn't a hot dog uprising, Danny's calling it a good day.

Maybe Bart comes home with a stash of snack bars because the ones Mr. Fenton makes don't taste as bland (anyone whos had some of those bars know they can suck especially if you eat them a lot) and they're actually filling unlike off the shelf brands. Of course the family is questioning, whats in it, who made it, can we trust it. Cue testing and realizing this sucker is packed with a lot more veggies than anyone predicted. (Deceptively Delicious cookbook sneaks a lot of veggie puree into foods for a boost and Danny's been doing it for Tucker for years without him knowing) They've heard Bart wax poetically about how amazing Mr. Fenton is as a teacher, how he doesn't yell at the kids for fidgeting or wearing headphones when they're overwhelmed as long as its pitched low enough to hear the alerts just in case the fire alarm goes off. How he has a whole cupboard of stuffed animals he used in a first aid lesson after he came in with a bandaged ankle (Danny tripped in a hole Cujo dug in his backyard) and decided to make it spontaneous training session. Everyone knows how to properly wrap a bandage and are pro's with the RICE method (Rest, Ice, Compression, Elevation). As a bonus they all safely know how to clean up biological fluids like blood (they used blue tinted water, Danny's seen enough green liquid) because villain attacks happen. Concerning enough that The Flash might want to investigate (and if he trips at the first sight of Mr Fenton that Bart apparently downplayed description wise, thats between Wally and the floor he faceplanted on)

Captain Cold Cousin!! Oh that would be fun, baffle the hell out of everyone if Danny just waves at him during an escape after a robbery. Yells that he'll bring cookies to lockup for him.

Okay okay I've seen a Lot of teacher Danny Aus but what if instead of chemistry or engineering...

It's Home Ec. Like this guy decided to get a degree in home economics due to literally the death trap of a house he grew up in where he ans his sister had to learn home economics things on their own so they could just survive.

But this is Danny so of course his classes are chaotic.

First day he brings out a microwave and a series of different food ingredients and shows his students just what you aren't supposed to microwave. And the first thing be shows is eggs.

By showing each different method that people have tried to cook eggs in a microwave with various levels of explosive results. Starting with a raw still shelled egg.

He did provide them noise canceling headphones and safety goggles just in case.

"Alright class, today you are going to learn what you can't cook in a microwave!"

#dpxdc #dcxdp #nudging the Danny/Wally agenda #because I love rare pairs #and the Bats have a monopoly though I love them too #Danny Fenton being the best teacher for kids with a teaspoons worth of attention span #uses the food reward system #Danny is only an adultier adult on paper #not in practice

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peachyyykid · 3 years ago

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Deceivers Ch. 4 - Flit

Word Count: 3748

Chapter 3 - Noble

Chapter 5 - Pirates

One week had passed since the world noble Charlos bought you at the auction house. After the branding, the guards had put you into skimpy lace underwear that barely covered your nipples and ass. You had felt slight relieve when they brought out a piece of fabric to put around your waist, but it was completely see-through and therefore, useless. The exploding collar was still in its place and Charlos added a leash to it.

You would walk behind him with another woman next to you, whom you weren't allowed to speak to. He pulled you through the streets and alleys of Sabaody, the eyes of the people in town made you uncomfortable, their gazes lingering on your exposed body.

It was so utterly embarrassing and degrading. From time to time, you would feel tugs in your chest, but you managed not to cry. Tears meant him kicking or punching you in front of all these people, and that somehow embarrassed you more than being half naked.

Some looked at you with pity, some shady men enjoyed your private parts almost spilling out, but most people just looked away. You were walking with a world noble after all, and they probably didn't want to die. He was usually riding on the back of another slave, and although you were in the same predicament as him, your heart hurt every time he trembled under Charlos' weight. But how could you help him if you couldn't even help yourself?

Every time you spoke without being asked, he gave you a hard back handed slap and if he felt particularly angry, he kicked you until you fell to the ground. The first few days this hadn't stopped you from annoying him on purpose, but the bruises piled up and soon you felt a stinging sensation in your ribs while breathing. The branding on your back healed quite well, although whenever you saw it in a mirror you cringed. They called it "the hoof of the flying dragon", which would be a beautiful name if it didn't have such a horrid back story.

Death, either yours or his, became an option you considered every time "Saint" Charlos groped your ass or fondled with your breasts. The thoughts you had about him grew more and more violent each day. You just wanted to hurt him.

The worst day so far was today. He wanted to eat dinner at a very fancy restaurant, and you stood next to him while he ate, making disgusting smacking and slurping sounds and laughing about "peasants" with his father and sister, who you despised as soon as you met them.

"Dear son", Rosward whistled, "you must give wife 14 the infertility shot as soon as we are home. It would be a shame if our blood were tainted with an improper heir due to your activities."

Your eyes widened as he mentioned infertility shots and the "activities", but you didn't dare to speak. Actually, thinking about it, it didn't really surprise you that much. He gave you the name wife 14, and he most definitely doesn't just display his wives somewhere just to look at them. His intentions were clear as glass.

"It will be so much fun, wife 14! I will get good use out of you", Charlos cheered while grabbing a handful of your exposed ass, making you flinch. You just wanted to smash his head into the plate of food.

"I know a good doctor, brother. If she wears out, he can stitch her back up, my friend said his mistresses were just like new", Shalria giggled behind her hand and Charlos formed his mouth into an o-shape. The fact that they spoke so freely about these things as a family, while normal families talked about their kids' school days or something, made you shiver in fear of what he was ready to do in private.

Her mentioning stitching you up sounded so nonchalant, while this practice was nothing else than disgusting. Some of your medicine books mentioned it, but it was a really old tradition that was actually forbidden by the world government. And here were the world nobles, completely ignoring rules that applied to everyone else (and for a good reason that was).

Jeany was right and all your life, you had blindly believed all these great and noble things you learned about the government and the world nobles.

How could I have been this stupid..., you thought and lowered your head. Small tears were forming in the corners of your eyes, and you blinked them away before anyone could see them.

If you had told your past self about the life, you had now you would have laughed. It was kind of ridiculous. Suddenly, something dawned you: You definitely had to flee, but time was running out. As soon as Charlos took you to Mary Geoise it was over, there was no way to get away from there. Your escape had to happen on Sabaody, basically the sooner the better.

Carefully, you eyed your surroundings in the restaurant. It was a fancy place, white furniture and walls with floor length windows. All the waiters were dressed in suits and had impeccable posture, carrying shiny silver plates with dish covers.

According to their status, the world nobles were seated on an open landing above the other guests. A flight of stairs led to the ground floor, with the kitchen on the left. Waiters scurried in and out of the room, trying their best to satisfy the demanding customers.

The world noble's table was the only one on the landing. It looked very expensive, clad in a white satin tablecloth reaching the floor. They sat on comfy chairs that matched the table.

Charlos' disgusting smacking and slurping never left your ears and it was becoming unbearable. Neither him, nor his father and sister were paying you any attention while they indulged on their food. You would expect table manners from someone like them, but they just looked like hungry pigs.

You frowned and carefully glanced at Charlos' other wife next to you. When she looked back, you motioned towards the stairs with your eyes. She widened her eyes in shock and shook her head, telling you to stop having crazy ideas.

If you were honest to yourself, you didn't even know what your plan was. You went through some ideas in your head.

Plan A was running, nothing else. But you ditched that plan quickly, they would just catch you or make your collar explode. Plan B was better, attacking them to get a chance to get rid of the collar. But how? The guards in the auction house said even attempting to remove it would trigger the explosion. Both of these possibilities weren't perfect, but you didn't have a plan C either.

However, fate decided to play in your favour.

A young waiter was coming up the stairs with another plate for the nobles, which was filled up to the brim with food. He visibly struggled balancing the silver platter and just before he reached the safety of the table, the plate wobbled dangerously, and he lost concentration. With wide eyes you watched as the plate tipped over in his hands, comically slow. The waiter tried to catch it, but he only made it worse. Mid-air, he hauled the plate towards Charlos and his family instead of catching it and the dish landed on their faces with a splattering sound.

The whole situation seemed like a theatre play. Before you could even think twice about it, you used the confusion around you to roughly yank at the leash that was connected to Charlos' chair, resulting in it tipping over with him on it. With a loud thud, his body hit the ground. Shalria and Roswald shrieked, trying to wipe the food away from their faces. Charlos tried to get up, but he just rolled around on his back like a fat bug.

"Shalria!", he yelled from the floor, "get the remote!"

This was your cue. You made a beeline for the stairs, carefully not to trip over the poor waiter. You pulled him up by the collar.

"You need to run, they'll kill you", you said and then looked back at the other enslaved woman, who was still standing there motionless. She shook her head and didn't budge, and you knew that she was too scared to run. It was her decision though, you couldn't help her if she didn't want it.

The leash was rustling behind you as you hurried down the stairs. If Charlos got a hold of the remote to make your collar explode it would be over for you, but it would still be better than being tortured and raped in Mary Geoise until they disposed of you.

Since the nobles were still screaming their heads of, you figured that they still hadn't found it.

At the end of the stairs, you quickly jumped into the kitchen, past some waiters who wanted to attend the scene on the landing.

"Ok, what do I do now", you panted, running around the room hurriedly. While scanning the counters and appliances with your eyes, they fell on a big pot of cooking oil.

With no hesitation, you grabbed the pot and poured the oil over your head and the explosive collar. If you tried hard enough, you could squeeze your head through it with the help of the greasy liquid.

"Hot!", you swore when the oil hit your skin, but luckily it wasn't hot enough to burn you.

You sat on the floor, rubbing the oil over your head and neck. Suddenly, the collar started beeping and you put two and two together. It was only a matter of time until the collar would explode. Breathing heavily and stretching your neck as far as possible, you pulled on it with slippery hands.

"Please... please. Come. Off!", you cried and with one last pull, the collar slipped over your head, landing on the floor next to you. You felt a sharp pain in your ears from the collar going past them, but you had to ignore that for now.

Your breathing picked up when the collar started beeping faster and you kicked it mindlessly, to get it as far away from you as possible. You managed to kick it a good meter farther and the collar exploded with a loud noise. The impact pushed you to your back and your ears were ringing.

A sharp pain travelling from your foot up to your hip pulled you back into reality. The explosion had been too close after all, and you saw your leg bleeding.

"Oh my god", you panted, and tears were threatening to blur your vision. Reading about such things in books was way different than seeing yourself being actually hurt, and the pain was numbing your head.

I don't have time for this, you thought and pulled your leg up carefully, wiping the tears away. You had another look around the kitchen and found some towels and a roasted piece of meat with some string around it.

Somehow, you heaved yourself up, finding support on the counters. The string around the meat easily came off and the paper towels weren't far either.

"Ok, I know what to do. I learned this", you said while wrapping the towels around your injured leg. You hissed when the material touched the wound, but it couldn't be helped. You tried your best tying the string around it and when it felt like it could last a while, you started limping towards a door at the end of the kitchen that you assumed would lead outside.

It was only a matter of time until the nobles came after you, so you approached the door as fast as possible. Luckily, it wasn't locked, and you peered through the frame. You were right, it did lead outside and even better, you couldn't see anybody. When the door fell back, you could hear aggravated screaming outside the kitchen door.

"What am I paying you stupid bodyguards for! If you don't find that slut, I will feed your guts to the dogs!" That was Charlos, who had apparently called his bodyguards inside the restaurant for a little help.

You couldn't afford to think about the consequences of your escape if they found you, so instead you picked up your pace. Your leg hurt like hell, but you would have to deal with it later. Your primary goal was to survive.

When another wave of adrenaline hit you, you started running in the direction that would lead you the farthest away from the restaurant. Charlos and his guard dogs would surely find you in no time if you hesitated, although it was getting dark outside.

"Shit", you exclaimed when you saw where you had ended up after a good minute of running. It was the shore, and there was no way to run any further. Sabaody was made of several small islands, but there wasn't a bridge or anything that would lead you to the next island. If you ran along the shore, they would spot you instantly.

Anxiously, you looked around. The only thing you spotted was a ships mast behind a tree. No matter who this ship belonged to, it was your only hope. The furious voice of Charlos rang in your ears and you made your way towards the ship.

It seemed like there was no one aboard and when you were close enough, you wanted to shout out to them, but you decided against it when Charlos' voice came closer. There was no ladder on the ship, so you had to think quickly.

The adrenaline made the pain in your leg more bearable, and you managed to jump high enough to grab the gunwale. You lost the hold as soon as you wanted to haul yourself on deck, since your hands were still slippery from the oil. You tried to hold onto the hull, but to no avail. With a loud splashing sound, you landed in the ice-cold water.

"Shi-", you hissed and cursed Charlos' clothing choice for you. The coldness was all around your body and you were afraid that you'd freeze to death, although the sea water soothed your injured leg.

"Guards!", bellowed Charlos' nasal voice and your heartbeat picked up instantly.

They found me!

You pressed your body under water and as close to the bottom of the hull as possible. If they couldn't see you, they would maybe retreat. Your heart beat so fast that you thought it was impossible to overhear from where they stood. But instead of checking the water, the men jumped on the ship.

"Search that ship and then come back immediately!", Charlos ordered, and you prayed that they wouldn't sink it when they were done. It was your only hiding spot.

Shalria's shrill voice came from the distance. "Brother! Brother come back quick, wife 10 tried to escape but we managed to stop her!"

Charlos tsked angrily, turned on his heel and his guards left the ship. They slowly went back to the restaurant, and he muttered inaudible things under his breath, sounding very upset.

Wife 10 tried to escape... that poor woman, why didn't she come with me!

The other woman's fate was settled. It was surely over for her, and you felt guilty that you didn't take her with you, by force if necessary. But it was too late. It was a miracle that you managed to escape, and luck had really been on your side tonight.

By now, the sea water had washed away the oil, and you started another attempt at climbing up the hull, digging your fingers into the bumpy wood as hard as possible. Maybe you could treat your wounds on the ship and find something to eat, in the best case some new clothes. This was probably a ship belonging to some merchants or something. If you explained your situation to them, they'd surely understand.

It was a particularly dark night, so you did neither see that the bow was actually a dinosaur skull, nor the pirate flag swaying proudly in the breeze. A white skull with fiery red hair and goggles glanced down on you and watched you as you intruded the ship.

You didn't make it far because a wave of fatigue washed over you, so you decided to sit down first. Immediately you regretted that decision because it took away the adrenaline and you now felt the pain in your entire body. Your leg, your ears and your hands were the worst. You shivered in your wet, skimpy clothes and hugged your body tightly to gain some warmth.

For the first time since the start of your escape, you felt empty and lost. You had thought that it would become better, that being away from the world nobles would make your situation more hopeful, but nothing changed. You had nowhere to go. Your parents were still dead, everyone at home was dead. You didn't know where your brother was and no way of finding out. You had never been told where exactly Deku-sama lived and walking around on Sabaody wasn't an option either.

For now, you could only sit around on this ship. You wanted to stand up, to at least find a blanket and some food, but at the same time you wanted to sit in the freezing cold to numb the pain. Finally, you were able to cry. It was relieving to at least feel some kind of emotion.

Violent sobs racked your body and the planks below you turned dark with tears. At last, you could let it all out. You curled up into a ball on the wooden planks. It must have been pitiful to look at, and you wished for someone to pull you into their arms, rocking you back and forth to comfort you. You craved the gentle embrace of your mother or even just your father patting your back. Something, just some kind of physical comfort. But you would never feel that kind of tender care again because everyone was gone.

After what felt like hours of crying, your tears had dried and only occasionally you let out a quiet whimper. You didn't know if the physical or the emotional pain was worse. The makeshift bandage on your leg was merely a piece of cloth now, but at least the bleeding had stopped. You looked at the throbbing limb and tried to concentrate on something other than the obvious pain.

It was useless. The crying and the pain took a toll on your body, and you slowly slipped into a rough sleep, feeling as numb as never before.

You woke up startled, scurrying around on the deck because of one of many nightmares that you had since you were abducted. You blinked rapidly, trying to make out your surroundings. It was dawn already and you could finally see what kind of ship you climbed onto. It was quite colourful, a black mast and sail, a green galley, red quarters, and a giant yellow skull in the front. A very odd merchant ship.

A giant yellow skull in the front? A black sail... there's a skull with flames on said sail..., you thought, looking up.

"Holy shit, not again!", you exclaimed while letting your eyes roam the ship. Again, you had somehow ended up on a fucking pirate ship. A brutal looking one at that. It was a lot larger than the ship of that dirty captain and looked more special. There was no doubt that it belonged to a ruthless pirate crew.

Loud chattering and hoarse laughter shifted your attention towards the shore. Carefully, you peeked over the railing. You saw a group of men in the distance, making their way towards the ship. With wide eyes you watched them banter with each other, but soon your eyes fell on the tall man walking in the middle, who didn't engage in the playful antics of the others.

He just smirked, carrying a bottle of alcohol in his right hand, his left hand stuffed in his trouser pockets leisurely. He wore a dark, heavy looking fur coat with golden spikes and a thin leather bandolier around his chest, holding a dagger and a small gun.

You looked at the sail above you, then back at his face. No doubt, it was his jolly roger up there. The fiery red hair and the goggles on his forehead were definitely his trademark. You studied his appearance a little more, even though you were scared to your bones.

His height was impressive. He was the tallest among the crew and the fur coat didn't hide his bare chest, his muscular torso clearly visible. His amber eyes, no, his whole face was intimidating. It took you a few seconds to realise that he didn't have eyebrows, but it didn't look ridiculous. He had red lips, kind of matching his hair.

You found yourself staring at him a little too long, not really knowing why. Something just drew you to him. His face and demeanour screamed danger, but he somehow fascinated you with his confident stance and his fierce eyes. His presence was overwhelming, although not in a bad way. He was different from the other men you had met in your life.

You should have escaped the ship while you still had time, but you had lost yourself in the man's eyes. When you came back to your senses, the group had nearly reached the ship, and you hurried to the other side of the deck to jump into the water. Finding a hideout on Sabaody to look for an innocent soul to help you or the marines seemed a better option than staying on yet another pirate ship, even with the world nobles at your heels.

You wanted to run but your leg didn't really allow it. With a few last limps, you barely reached the opposite railing. A whooshing sound behind you made you halt and turn around. The huge shadow of the man in the fur coat blocked the rising sun as he jumped onto the deck. Frozen in shock, you missed the last chance of escaping into the water.

With doe eyes, you watched him as he landed in front of you, inspecting your sitting frame with a frown.

"Who the fuck are you and why are you on my fucking ship?"

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westywrites · 2 years ago

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2022

As we arrive in the present, this is the last bit of newer writing I’ll share. Thanks for coming along on this journey and seeing how I’ve matured as a writer. From description and dialogue, to action and sentence flow, it’s amazing to see my own progress. Reading the things I’ve written over the past decade has made me realize just how much I have to be proud of. I'm especially proud that I’ve kept my joy and love of writing for all these years.

To celebrate that personal pride and joy I feel, here’s an excerpt I wrote quite recently.

The Hollow Taste of Truth (informally called the “fae thing”)

This is a very self-indulgent story that I’ve been working on from time to time. Usually, when I want to write something without thinking. A lot of it is very trope heavy and very angsty. Just me messing around with the tropes about fae and subjecting some fictional kids to having their worldview shattered when they find out they aren’t human.

It is my poster child for writing for the joy of writing.

Excerpt:

Without me seeing her move, Cypher was somehow right in front of me. The sensitive skin on my wrist broke under her sharp nails. Claws, I corrected. The longer I watched this woman, the less human she seemed. "What a delicate thing to hold great power," she said, running a finger along the thin bracelet. I tried to pull back, but her grip was unnaturally strong. Pain radiated up my arm, from both her claws and the iron shackle that touched fresh skin on my forearm as she pulled my wrist forward. "If you thought your power might be able to help us while under a glamour, I can't wait to see what you can do once the glamour lifts." She hooked a claw under the silver chain. The bracelet didn't even make a sound as it snapped. Nothing disturbed the silence. As though the darkness around us was holding its breath. I felt no different.

*cue angsty transformation where they realize they can never go back to their life - that they’ll never be the same again*

No editing, no restraints, just silly, angsty fun. Is it the best thing I’ve ever written? No. Do I love it? Without a doubt.

#west's words #writeblr #writers on tumblr #amwriting #fae #westywrites 5 year anniversary celebration #on monday to close off the celebration #I'll share the oldest bit of my writing that I own!#I found it while I was home #a story I wrote when I was 8!!#found a poem from then too!

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jukeboxhound · 3 years ago

Note

apologies if you’ve already answered this, i just found ur post on it— why do you “hate watch” infinity war and endgame? i didn’t like endgame either and i’m going through marvel fatigue too, so i just wanna hear your opinion on it if you wanted to share 👀

OH BOY i am FULL OF OPINIONS and ALWAYS HAPPY TO SHARE THEM anon, ahahaha ❤

To be fair, a lot of my issues stem back to how the MCU framed Ultron and the Civil War. The question of accountability, in and of itself, is absolutely important, and there's so much richness and ethical complexity that could be pulled out and explored re: vigilantism vs. state-sanctioned violence, accountability, etc etc. The 616 comics flubbed it, but MCU just made it an absolute mess and, in doing so, actually undermined both the coherence and the moral fortitude of Steve's position entirely while still trying to make him the underdog hero (????). MCU as well as various comic lines have a habit of trying to make Captain America into Marvel's moral compass without really....doing it consistently or well at all, imo.

Anyway, so given that, because I'm salty about everything and also I was still a bit feverish from COVID at the time...

(Under a cut for both length and vitriol @ the MCU.)

Infinity War:

The consequences of the Civil War were just....swept aside and forgotten, which took one of the biggest events in Marvel's comic history and marked a HUGE change in the MCU and then...ignored it??? Because increasing the stakes of a conflict is the only way that too many content creators know how to create emotional tension but who don't want to deal with the emotional nuances/consequences in any meaningful way. (Cue a lot of interesting and infuriating film articles analyzing why films no longer have 'quiet scenes' and how the MCU really codified that.)

The rogue Avengers were reintroduced in a way that pushed hard on the 'misunderstood vigilante' trope, which, see above re: Civil War and my complete inability to buy into that, so it came off less as 'badass underdogs' and more 'oh, I am Misunderstood and Suffering Nobly and Broodingly.' I've been a goth for 20 years, I can smell that self-indulgent nonsense a mile away.

The Jossification of movie writing in which consistent characterization is sacrificed if it means a witty one-liner, but that's just the MCU as a whole at this point. It was fun when it was still 2000 and Buffy was a campy cute TV show already designed around this form of humor from the very start. It's boring, unimaginative, and bad writing at this point.

Changing Thanos to be an attempted commentary on...I guess environmentalism, but done badly, and by the Disney megacorporation no less (not for the first time; Disney's World of Tomorrow is even more heavyhanded about it), is just...look. Look. Just let him slaughter people because he wants to bone Death, pun totally intended, that's way more interesting as a plot point than whatever MCU tried to do.

Something about the way Wakanda was handled felt weird? It felt like the majority white US characters were once again taking precedence over any of Wakanda's story, I think, but I don't have language yet to pin down where my sense of wobbliness there is coming from exactly, just that a lot of the scenes set in Wakanda had me feeling ://// and like I needed someone to stuff Steve in a closet somewhere for a while.

And Endgame:

Steve as a peer counselor is the FUNNIEST FUCKING IDEA, I assume it's meant as an homage to Sam Wilson but HE'S THE ACTUAL WORST CHARACTER OPTION FOR THAT ROLE and that is my honest professional judgment, okay, dear gods. (This is not me just dunking him - I legitimately have reasons for this judgment.)

I'm tired of MCU treating Thor like a big dumb asshole. His character development has become a boring repeating cycle. It's like the writers or whomever just didn't know what to do with him but couldn't pretend he didn't exist. Cue the Lebowski jokes, I guess.

Really, it feels like MCU just doesn't care about its own characters and what gives each of them the depth that made them so beloved in the first place, period.

Gettin' real tired of people trying to redeem Howard fucking Stark in a way that feels like it's trying to minimize his impact on Tony. MCU!Howard doesn't seem nearly as bad as 616!Howard, but you can just let a character be Complicated! They don't have to be demonized or redeemed!

I was 100% here for RDJ's improv of yelling at Cap, though. :D

The final battle didn't give me warm fuzzies about Marvel's Big Three fighting together because there hasn't been emotional depth between them...ever*, really.

Honestly, none of the attempts at emotional depth ever landed for me. But then, I've never been sold on the chemistry for any of the canon relationships, romantic or otherwise, even back in IM2 for Pepperony.

The biggest emotional takeaway for me was the realization that nothing - not Howard, not torture, not SHIELD - was able to break Tony's heart and will the way that the loss of the Avengers was able to. And that makes sense, it does.........but I truly don't believe that that's what MCU was ever intending to imply. 🙃

Pepper suddenly ending up in a suit after multiple movies of her hating the armor didn't make any sense to me (unlike her role as Rescue in 616).

I'm on board with other folks who point out the ethical dubiousness, at best, of reversing the snap FIVE YEARS LATER.

The final battle felt like a) another 'let's up the stakes for emotional tension' issue and b) a narratively contradictory choice since so much of the MCU was DEFINED by the very question regarding the tragedy of superhero battles, and the CGI made it look like it went waaaaaay beyond the limits of the Compound.

*The Avengers (2012) isn't exactly flawless and fuck Joss Whedon forever, but at least it felt like it was setting up the MCU with the potential for the fun of 616's early New Avengers era in which the Avengers were dorks in the tower. There was potential! Fandom in 2012 was based on real canon! And then MCU went fuck all of you, I guess.

ANYWAY I HOPE THAT'S WHAT YOU WERE LOOKING FOR, ANON ❤

#marvel #<- in case folks have that blacklisted #anti marvel

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astringofmadhousefloozies · 4 years ago

Text

Sardines, or Professor Vargas is an Asshole

Another fic from someone who’s only half-read everything. Told in second person, starring a female Yuu.

Content warnings for coarse language, kidnapping, sexual harassment along the lines of Vargas being similar to Gaston, and being deeply, direly self indulgent.

As always, please let me know if you enjoyed it, I live and breathe for positive feedback.

You do not like Professor Vargas, and the feeling is mutual.

It wasn't like the almost amiable vitriol between you and Schonheit, which, while having its ups and downs, was usually at a level of shooting a few insults at each other in between whatever dorm prefect business had you talking to each other, and parting ways with a hair flip on his part and a rude hand guesture on yours. And hell, the other teachers seemed almost fond of you. Trein appreciated you passion for history, even if annoyed at your preference for layman-oriented literature, and would let you sound off about whatever strange bit of lore you'd recently found out, and even once down and listened very patiently as you tried to explain who Emperor Norton was before he said you needed to leave so he could mark papers. Crewel and you had reached an uneasy truce where he did not call you a puppy, and you did not start going "what happens when these go together" in potions class every time he called you that in protest. (You may be a bitch, but he certainly isn't allowed to imply it, even in the most roundabout of ways.)

But Vargas. Vargas hates your soft belly, your unwillingness to push yourself to the point of exhaustion, and most of all, he really, really hates that you're a girl that won't throw herself at his feet. You were trundling along at a swift walking pace on a broom, a mere few feet off the ground, when he stopped yelling at your classmates to pick on you instead.

"Too weak to do better than that?"

"I'm not magic. That I can do this at all is impressive." You're pointedly looking ahead, not looking at him jogging up beside you.

"You can go higher!"

"Professor," you say with barely contained irritation, "I am a beginner, and would much rather have the basics down before I attempt to turn myself into a fine paté from a hundred feet up."

He snorted. "Ashengrotto goes high; you can too."

"Azul's damn near in tears by the time he comes down because he didn't even have legs before a few years ago. He's not a good example."

Vargas, being a wretched asshole who should not be allowed to teach, instead tipped the end of your broom up. Only the broom shot into the air, you merely went ass-over-teakettle onto the grass, and stayed there because if you got up you would attempt to bite his nose clean off.

"Such poor balance! But I can fix that with some private lessons!" Oh, Christ. "You come by here after dark, I know all about teaching a girl how to ride -”

At that, you kicked him in the shin, and while he started back in pain, you shot up and started walking off the field, vibrating with the strength of your disgust.

"You can't hit a teacher! You'll regret this you stupid-" And you've picked up to a jog, because fuck if you were going to listen to that piece of shit try and pick up one of his own fucking students, what the actual fuck.

~*~*~*~

You relayed this whole mess across the supper table, afterwards, and your host was just as grossed out as you were.

"Keep an eye out next class," Azul said to you. "He holds a grudge."

"First hand knowledge?”

His silence was telling.

"You think I could get an exemption? Or like, permission to do a treadmill when everyone's out on a broom?"

"Who do you think you have to ask about all fitness-related things?" Azul had a faraway look that recalled war films. "It's not going to work.”

"What if I start skipping class?"

He gave you a look that could wither an evergreen. "Don't you dare, or he'll start picking on me again."

You shrugged. "Aight. I got three days to figure out what to do, then. You got any ideas?”

He folded his hands and rested his head upon them. "What would you pay?"

"No."

"Come on."

"What do I even have that you want?"

"I can think of a few things. The wave in your hair, or the gleam off your teeth."

"Because you need more curl to your hair."

"Someone might want to contract me for them."

"No. I got three days, Azul, we don't have to resort to your contracts.”

As it turned out, you did not have three days.

~*~*~*~

The next day's gym class was a motley bunch. Idia couldn't miss any more gym days this month, Lilia was doing his stretches, Floyd was... being Floyd, resulting in everyone who wasn't Rook giving him a wide berth, and Leona appeared to be skipping class and was therefore not present for the upcoming bullshit.

"Sorry I'm late!" Cater jogged in, cheery as sunshine though the clouds, and Idia rolled his eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn't strain. "Laps today?"

"Vargas said we're doing Capture the Flag. Dunno how the teams'll go." Lilia was doing something complicated with his hands as he stretched his arms. "Kingscholar's absent, so they'll be uneven. And," he thumbed over at Rook, who was looking into the forest with the coiled intensity of a greyhound waiting for the rabbit to spring, "he's got an advantage, he knows the woods best."

"Yeah, but I've got unlimited data and a GPS." Cater patted his chest with a smile, the outline if his phone visibly through a pocket.

"Can't count on that for everything."

"Alright students!" yelled Vargas, strolling out of the woods with a bruise purpling one cheek. "Capture the Flag today. Use your brooms to navigate the forest, grab the flag, whoever brings it back gets the flag as a prize."

"It's in the forest, hanging from a pole in a clearing, you cannot miss it! All in white, too..." The professor brought up a little screen, showing off a live feed of his flag.

The flag, of course, was you, trussed up with rope and you legs hanging freely, still in last night's sleep shirt. Your voice came out, tinny from the speakers: "I did not consent to this, asshole."

The students were torn between looking at Vargas in shock, looking at the phone in shock, and muttering between themselves.

"Don't forget to have all the fun you want with the flag before you bring it back to me! When else will you get the chance?"

This just had everyone looking at each other with shifty-eyed suspicion.

"Every man for himself! Go get your prize!"

~*~*~*~

Vargas couldn't rig worth a damn. You're twenty feet in the air with just one rope suspending you, tied at the base with a simple knot. Everything hurt from chafing, you were cold, and you couldn't help but worry over what the hell was going to happen, depending on who found you. Vil still hadn't forgiven you for projecting a gorefest of a film across the walls of Pomefiore, so he might leave you to rot or use the situation to put a particularly vicious curse on you. Idia would probably drop dead of exhaustion after reaching you, leaving you both stuck. Floyd, well. As much as you enjoyed his company, it was like hand feeding a pet tiger; eventually he'll decide your hands tastes better, it's just a matter of when. You're running the numbers on most likely scenarios based on who shows up, when some twigs snap by the meadow's edge and you look towards a small "Hi."

Little ears! Little hands! Little all over, and looking up at you with curiousity as his tail swished. Chen'ya? No, no, other Ch- name. "Cheka! Hi, sweetie, honey, baby, can you get me down?" You'd already been here an hour and your hands were nothing but tingles.

"... Okay! Why're you up there?"

"Bad man," you say as he starts to tug at the rope. "You got it?"

He shook his head. "It's hard."

"Can you go get help, honey? Bring them back to get me down?"

He nodded. This was a big boy job, he could do it. "I'll get Uncle Leona."

Please don't, you thought to yourself, but instead said "Okay, please be quick, Cheka."

He started off towards the school, and you could have sworn he vanished before he actually hit the treeline.

~*~*~*~

He was only gone for a few minutes before you realized that you were starting to move. Turns out Cheka, despite being so small, had pulled enough at the rope before he left that the knot was unraveling.

"Oh shi-" is as far as you got before you're in freefall, and you yelped as you hit the ground feet first, wheezing. Fuck. You can barely move to survey the damage, because a certain asshole had put your hands behind your back, and every move made your ankles wail in pain. The only saving grace was that the ground was soft.

At least someone had landed by you, looking you up and down.

"... Hi, Yuu."

"... Hi, Lil."

Lilia pointed up. "You're supposed to be up there."

"Vargas was too busy trying to get upskirts to secure a fucking knot, apparently." You wince as he worked at the ropes. "My feet?"

"On the right way." You gritted your teeth and hissed as he prodded at them. "Both badly sprained, left worse than right. You're not walking out of here."

"Figured." You sat up and held your arms out. "Come on, old man, you're stronger than you look."

He was, but was too small to leverage you correctly.

"Can't you fly?"

"Yes," He said as he tried to balance you on the broom.

"Then carry me.”

"You want me to drop you?"

"Nope."

"Do we just wait for the others?"

As if on cue, you heard distant yelling and what was maybe an explosion.

"Yeah." Lil brightened, and snapped his fingers. "I saw a place, hold on."

Said place was either a nice treehouse or an okay deer blind, wide enough in the floor that you could lay flat out as he surveyed the damage. "This should be a good place."

"What the hell is going on out there?”

"Everyone's looking for you." Lil's settled crosslegged, with an amused smile. "Vargas said you're the prize, so everyone's trying to get here first. Isn't it good I found you? Who knows what they're planning."

You set your arm over your eyes and sighed. "Brave words from someone who's broken into my room more than once."

He shrugged. "You need looking after."

"De-organizing my things isn't looking after, you damned goblin."

He bristled. "I'm not a goblin."

"What is a goblin, Lilia."

"Small little fae who like to cause trouble."

"Exactly."

You couldn't see it, but you could feel the eye-roll.

~*~*~*~

It was five minutes at the most after that before Rook climbed in the door, looking so fresh-faced and joyful to see you it made you want to swat him. "Bonjour, my Trickster! You're living up to your name, hidden away!"

"Salut, Rook." You squinted at him. "You have first aid anything?"

"Hm," He said, prodding at your calf. "I have water, but these need wrapped."

"Give." Lilia took a sip of water before passing it to you. "The uniform denim won't tear easily-”

"Oh, we use this."

"Oh no you do not," You said as you tugged the hem of your sleep shirt from his hand. "No one here gets to see my underwear."

"I don't care about your panties, I care about this," he said as he brushed an ankle, making you jerk back. "It'll get worse if they aren't wrapped. There is fabric to spare.”

You huffed before you told him not to mention it to Vil, and between him and Lilia, you had two wrapped ankles and a dangerously short hemline. At least you'd actually put underwear on before Vargas decided to kidnap you, otherwise this would be a whole other level of distressing.

~*~*~*~

"You have a phone?"

Lilia pulled his from a hidden pocket. "You want to play Sweetie Scrunch?"

"No," You say as you take it from him and start flipping through his contacts. "I'm calling help."

It took him a whole three seconds before he realized who help was. "... Nope, nope, you're not getting Malleus involved, he will eat Vargas alive, we are not causing an international incident."

"Would you rather he find out after? And he knows how to heal." You'd already texted him a brief explanation one handed, the other keeping Lilia away.

"She is not wrong, monsieur... And it would be a delight to see him raise hell."

"See?" You gave Lilia a smile that would be very sweet if it wasn't full of the devil. "C'est bon."

~*~*~*~

Mal hurtled through the window so fast it was a miracle he didn't go clean through the far wall, before he was on top of you, fussing over his precious Child of Man.

"Mal, I am fine, please fix my -"

"Dreadful, simply dreadful." He was already working a prickly green light around your bruises. "And he did that, too?" he growled as he guestured to your ragged hemline."

"No, we did that to wrap my ankles. As much as I'd love to see it, we do not need to turn Vargas into - Mal. Mal. Put your clothing back-" He'd already managed to wrap you up in his green-trimmed uniform coat. "You don't have to do that."

"Yes I do." He already had you cradled in his lap, both arms around you in a vice grip. "You won't heal immediately, I must keep you safe until then.”

Lilia raised an eyebrow at him, but said nothing. You were about to ask, before a dreadful wheezing started up from outside, and familiar pale hands had the bottom of the doorframe in a vice grip. "Help."

"Shit, Idia! Get him in here before he falls!"

~*~*~*~

Idia looked downright grey in your arms as you tried to get him to drink some water. For someone who had the physical fortitude of an overboiled noodle, he'd pushed himself to his limits looking for you, and then some.

"You're okay? Full health?" Idia sounded horribly raspy, and you fussed over his scrapes as you picked half-charred twigs from his hair. He was too tired to protest you holding onto him in much the same manner Malleus was holding onto you.

"Bout three-quarters. Fifty before Mal got here." Idia's eyes flicked to just behind your left ear before he shrank back.

You turned your head around, and Mal gave you his sweetest you're-my-best-friend smile. You looked back at Idia, who was attempting to shrink into something microscopic, and then back at Mal.

"Play nice. He's my friend too."

Mal turned his face as innocent as he could muster. "Whatever do you mean, my friend?"

"You know what I mean."

"I do not." He wasn't looking at your face anymore.

"Yes you do. And he's you're friend too-"

Idia raised one hand tentatively. "We only play Dragon-Kun with each other."

You guestured down at Idia, still looking at Mal, looking anywhere but you. "You love your Dragon-kun. And maybe," you say as you nudge Malleus's cheek, "If you made more friends than me, you wouldn't have to be jealous when I have other friends?"

Mal's pupils were so narrow as to be barely visible when he glanced out of the corner of his eye at you, but he nodded, and mumbled a very quiet apology as Idia faintly relaxed.

"Impressive. I haven't been able to do that in years."

"That's because you're his dad."

"Do you think anyone else will show up, my Trickster? It's getting cramped in here."

You looked around and considered. "I mean, probably."

~*~*~*~

"Sevens?"

"Go fish."

"And that's when they added a dance emote, but it cause a glitch so the top half of your body started to spin around while the bottom half went normally, which would be okay, but if you collide with a wall then you clip about a mile above the ground and die from fall damage, and when they went to fix that -"

There were eight people in the treehouse, and no room for more. Mal had you in his lap in a corner. Idia was gesticulating wildly as he talked about what you were sure was this universe's version of Fallout 76, tucked against you at an angle. Floyd insisted on you using his lap as a footrest while he, Lilia and Cater played card games with an ancient deck Lilia had produced from another pocket. (You were not certain that Floyd's guesture was innocent, since he kept poking at your toes until you said you'd take them away if he didn't stop.) Rook was skipping this round to keep an eye out the window. There was maybe a half foot total of floor showing. Despite the magic fired and fists swung earlier, as soon as everyone had realized that no one was running to your rescue simply to perform their own indignities, everyone had relaxed.

Overall, it was very cozy, and as long as you could keep Idia talking instead of realizing he was crammed in a tiny room with a whole bunch of people, you could stay here quite comfortably for ages. Your ankles were currently only sore, with twinges of more, no one was at each other's throats, and as long as no one else fucked shit up, you could wait out Vargas, go home, and think about how in the hell you can report a teacher at this school for harassment.

"Trouble's coming."

Ah, shit.

Trouble, unfortunately, had figured out where they were due to the cluster of broomsticks at the base of the tree, flew to the window, and started spewing bullshit.

"What are you all doing? You abandoned the game," and here he guestured towards you, "and didn't come back with the prize. None of you would know what to do with a girl if she begged you!"

What a piece of shit, and he couldn't even read a room with eight sets of eyes glaring murder at him. He was still talking, but you weren't paying attention. Instead, you drained the last of the water, wiped your mouth on your arm, and took a deep breath.

"Get his ass."

~*~*~*~

Everyone scattered after that, not ready to deal with the consequences of ganging up on their teacher, even if he thoroughly deserved it. Everything will be dealt with tomorrow, when you can put weight on your legs without your knees buckling. Mal was walking you out of the woods personally in a princess carry, when he stopped in place.

"See, she's down, you didn't have to bug me."

You'd completely forgotten that Cheka had gone to bug Leona for help. "It's been hours."

He ignored that. "Draconia. What would your grandma say?"

"Mal-"

"I would hope she would be proud of my helping a friend." He held his head high, and brushed by Leona without another word.

"Bye!"

"Bye Cheka." You waved back at Cheka before the two lions were out of sight.

~*~*~*~

"Mal, you know you could just take me to my dorm, right?"

"Someone should keep an eye on you until you are fully healed," he said as he pulled out a pair of silk pajamas.

"Which you could do at my dorm, instead of." You guestured to the hangings on his bed. "Here."

"It's far more comfortable here than your dorm."

"I'm not kicking you out of your bed, Mal."

"You're not in a state to argue." He set the pajamas beside you, before turning to face the wall.

"About that."

He did not move a muscle.

"I'm surprised you didn't just heal them outright."

Silence.

"I know perfectly well that you can. So why didn't you?"

He still said nothing.

"Be that way, Malleus. But you know that's not okay." You flung the remains of your shirt at him, managing to catch it on one horn. "If you want me to stay over, just say that instead of conspiring to keep me dependent for an evening."

He turned, pulling the cloth from his horns, before his eyes nearly popped from his head and he hurriedly turned back to the wall. "I... am not used to this."

"Neither am I. We're going to have to have a little talk about boundaries and healthy friendships. You can turn around now."

He did, you patted the side of his bed, and he joined you.

"How do you want to do this, Mal."

"I do not."

"Tough titty, said the kitty."

He raised an eyebrow.

"I know I'm the first real friend you've had. I've been on both ends of that. You know what happens when you cling real fucking hard to your friend, and try to isolate them because you don't wanna share?"

His face was a practiced mask of emotionlessness. "What is that?"

"They suffocate, and draw away because the intensity is way too much. And then no one's happy."

Mal frowned, but said nothing.

"I do want to be your friend. I like you. You're funny, you're deeply sincere, and you're still the same person I knew when I just called you Horned Boy. But I will cut this off if you try to isolate me. I do not want to, but I will have to. If you can't play nice with others, you don't get to play with me at all."

He's so clearly trying to hide his distress and irritation, but he could not help a sigh. "You are not wrong, Child of Man. And..." He looked away. "You won't live forever. Or be here forever, at that."

"I will not. You won't either, but like, you'll outlive me. Eggs in one basket, and all. Another reason to attempt to make more friends."

"Hm." He stretched out beside you, staring at the ceiling. "With who should I start? My reputation precedes me."

"Well," you smiled, "If I've learned one thing, forced proximity does wonders with forcing Idia to like you, and he's already somewhat used to you."

He smiled at the ceiling. "I do like him."

"Me too. You'd like his little brother."

"The creation?”

"Yeah. Look, I'll network for you with other people. And I'll make sure to invite you places."

"A promise?"

"Of course. Now, are you going to take me home, or put up with the rumours of keeping me in your room all night after beating up Vargas to get at me?"

"... Oh dear."

"Yeah."

After a moment, "... I am alright with the rumours."

You snorted. "You could just ask for a sleepover next time. Don't wait for an injury."

"I will ask."

"Make sure Sebek doesn't eat me in the morning."

"I would like to see him try." He gripped your closest hand and squeezed it.

"Me too."

You lay there a few moments, scary lonely dragon boy and strange lonely human kid, hand in hand.

"Do you have any tales from your home you could tell me?"

"Mostly ones you already kind of know."

"I would still like to hear."

Even a dragon wants a bedtime story, it seems.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland fanfiction #twst fic #malleus draconia

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where-dreamers-go · 4 years ago

Text

“Birthday Fun” Spn Gabriel x f!Reader

(A/N: This is purely self-indulgent. A birthday present to me to share. I haven’t written a songfic in years. Maybe four or five years. Also happy birthday to my twin sister ( @ivorydragoness44 ) who helped proofread and edit this with me! You’re awesome!

Warnings: None?

Word Count: 1,315 words)

It was your birthday! Congratulations, you had made it through another year involved with hunting monsters and knowing the Winchesters!

Well, you did prefer research over physically going on hunts. Yet, there you were out of the safety of your home and on a motel bed with your laptop. A notebook with notes jotted across multiple pages, more than one tab open on a browser, and the Winchesters out questioning people in town. Not exactly what you pictured doing on your birthday.

Dean had promised to buy a cake for the three of you to have some sort of celebration. Any sort of normalcy in a hunter’s life should be cherished, you couldn’t deny them that. Plus you adored Sam and Dean like brothers.

Stomach feeling as if it was going to growl, you shut off your laptop and headed for the door to go get something to eat.

You opened the motel door to go outside, but was met with what could easily be taken as a jazz club. The aesthetic was there.

“What…?” You laughed.

There were limited ways that could had happened and you were really hoping there was trickery and not a monster involved.

Taking a chance, you stepped inside. People populated the area either at the small tables, the bar off to the side, or the dance floor in front of the dark stage.

Does this place actually exist? You asked yourself.

The moment your shoes stopped where the tables started, lighting directed attention to the stage. Clapping erupted as a lone figure appeared on the lit stage. Their back facing the awaiting audience.

Is that—?

“Ladies and gentlemen…this is Mambo Number Five.”

“Ohmygod. Gabriel.” Your jaw dropped open before your face split into a grin.

One snap and a live band took their place on either side of the stage.

The musicians started to play their instruments to a very familiar rhythm.

Gabriel’s hips followed suit, moving from side to side.

Your shoulders twitched to the beat.

Up on the stage Gabriel spun around to face the audience. All of which were quite enthused. He held up a finger.

“One. Two. Three, four, five. “Everybody in the car so come let’s ride…” He sung and gestured with a finger, beckoning you closer. “To the liquor store around the corner. “The boys say they want some gin and juice, but I really don’t wanna.”

snap

A path of colorful confetti weaved across the floor from your feet, between the tables, and towards the dance floor.

“Beerbust like I had last week. “I must stay deep ‘cause talk is cheap. “I like Angela, Pamela, Sandra, and Rita. “And as I continue, you know they’re getting sweeter.” He threw his hip to the side and you let out a laugh.

The people in their seats were loving it and the ones out on the dance floor were more so.

You took the first few steps onto the confetti as Gabriel continued singing enthusiastically. As only he could.

“So what can I do? I really beg you my Lord. “To me flirting is just like a sport.”

Did someone close to the stage just swoon?

“Anything fly, it’s all good let me dump it. “Please set it in the trumpet.”

You beamed as you reached the edge of the dance floor. At this rate your cheeks were hurting from smiling so much.

“A little bit of—.” You sang out reflexively.

“—Monica in my life, “A little bit of Erica by my side.”

“‘Ay!” You threw your arms in the air.

Gabriel’s smile brightened the stage.

“A little bit of Rita’s what I need, “A little bit of Tina’s what I see, “A little bit of Sandra in the sun, “A little bit of Mary all night long. “A little bit of Jessica here I am,” he extended his arms out. “A little bit of you makes me your man!”

Without fear of embarrassment or anyone bothering you, you boogied your way out on the dance floor. The other dancers easily made room as you allowed yourself a creative outlet. It was your birthday after all. Might as well have fun.

Up on stage, Gabriel strutted to the beat.

“Mambo number five.”

Happily, you danced closer to the center of the dance floor.

“Jump up and down “And move it all around.”

Everyone around you circled their hips on cue.

“Shake your head to the sound, “Put your hands on the ground.”

Dancers moved in sync as you readied yourself for the next set of lyrics.

“Take one step left.”

You did.

“And one step right.” You sang along.

“One to the front and one to the side. “Clap your hands once.”

clap

“And clap your hands twice.”

clap clap

“And if it look like this then you’re doing it right.” He winked at you.

You struck a pose before singing along to the chorus.

“A little bit of Monica in my life, “A little bit of Erica by my side. “A little bit of Rita’s all I need.”

The people in the room were all suddenly dancing in sync once again, the only difference was that they were doing exactly what you were doing.

“A little bit of Tina’s what I see. “A little bit of Sandra in the sun, “A little bit of Mary all night long, “A little bit of Jessica here I am. “A little bit of you makes me your man!”

Well, alright, you thought and danced to your heart’s content. Gabe is my absolute favorite!

It was like living in a musical or a dance movie where everyone knew the steps regardless of practice.

You grinned up at Gabriel as you and the others covered the dance floor with various movements. The live band was an excellent touch.

“Trumpet.”

The instrument sounded.

“The trumpet.”

The instruments rose to the occasion.

“Mambo number five,” Gabriel snapped his fingers and you were there beside him. “Ha, ha, ha.”

You both shared a grin.

“A little bit of Monica in my life, “A little bit of Erica by my side. “A little bit of Rita’s what I need, “A little bit of Tina’s what I see. “A little bit of Sandra in the sun, “A little bit of Mary all night long. “A little bit of Jessica here I am, “A little bit of you makes me your man!”

During the next session of instrumental, you found yourself twirling around the stage with him. Kicking your legs out to the beat and whatever felt right and spontaneous in that moment.

“I do,” he grabbed your hand. “All to “Fall in love with a girl like you.” Gabriel pulled you even closer.

The grin on your face could not have been any bigger.

“Cause you can’t run and you can’t hide.”

He twirled you away from him, and then spun you back against his side.

“You and me gonna touch the sky.” Again, he twirled you around in front of him to take center stage as only you could.

The audience had since all taken to the dance floor and were in a joyous uproar upon the sight of you.

You doubted that you would ever have a moment like this in reality, so positive and joyful, that you were not going to waste a single second.

So as the song was coming to a close, you had the crowd jumping and dancing without a single care in the world.

“Mambo number five.”

The musicians continued playing their instruments as the audience lived it up. The song at its close.

“Happy birthday, (Y/N).”

The instruments ceased and you hopped over and hugged Gabe tightly. It was indeed the most memorable birthday that you had ever had, and you were going to cherish it. It was only too bad that Sam and Dean were not there to experience it as well.

~~~

(A/N: “Mambo No. 5 (a Little Bit of…)” is by Lou Bega. I literally first remember listening to that song in 1st grade. I mean, I guess it was a radio version maybe. Not sure, but I really hoped you enjoyed this insert reader whether it’s your birthday or unbirthday!

If you love my writings and want to support me, I have a Ko-Fi where you can buy me a coffee. I would be eternally grateful. coffee

Best wishes and happy reading.)

~~~~~

DreamerDragon Tags: @cubedtriangle

**Let me know if you would like to be tagged in insert readers, either through replies, ask, or message.**

#supernatural imagine #Supernatural Gabriel x female Reader #Supernatural Gabriel imagine #Supernatural Gabriel imagines #Gabriel imagines #spn Gabriel x Reader #it's my birthday #where dreamers go #supernatural Gabriel songfic #Supernatural Gabriel

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mc-doppomine · 4 years ago

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I love your analysis of Matenro!!!! Its my fav division too 💞

What do you think of Fling Posse? ✨

Aaaahhhh, thank you so much! I’m so glad that others enjoy my thoughts for this series.

As for Fling Posse, I am honestly hoping so much that KR is about to blow the lid on them in this DRB. Because right now, there’s just so mystique about them and a lot of threads that could lead to something bigger but it hasn’t yet. And right now, I think Fling Posse has the most growth to do to catch up with the other divisions. This isn’t me saying they’re not good, don’t get me wrong, but they are missing something for their team.

(I guess we’re going to actual analysis because we all know I can’t just blurb.)

But I think that solely lies in HOW they came together. Which is distinct despite initially seeming like MTC’s way of coming together. Distinct being that FP are so immensely independent as people that their team kind of has suffered. Unlike all the rest of the divisions, FP was the one team that was only together ONLY for rapping together. And at least until they were at ‘serious’ risk of not making it to the 1st DRB (in the FP vs MTR manga) that they got better. Better. But they continued to strongly be just themselves. Which isn’t bad, it’s just that you have a higher chance of the ‘too many chefs’ problem.

Lucky for them, they didn’t have that issue so much as simply being bested. It really could’ve gone either way for them. Personally, I do feel a bit more surprised about their friendship. Not saying that they’re not friends but mmm...I think it really depended on the media that came through for me. FP is one of those divisions that seemed a bit different in from the anime vs...almost everything else I’ve listened to? Like I think the anime is more of what FP gets into once they sufficiently convince the other members to go along with them. But that’s the main thing, if you notice a lot of their initial coming together for the track or chapter, they usually are asking ‘why are you bothering me?’ And it doesn’t always come across as that mean-spiritedness of like calling your friend a mean name that they’d laugh about. They do have a good time once it’s a bit of ribbing but there’s always that brash first few steps.

Which, honestly, is mainly Gentaro being ‘why have you interrupted me this time?’ But to his credit, he’s like the only introvert amongst two high energy friends. And they are also crazy so he needs the time to regain the energy to be straight-faced through whatever bullshit is about to be pulled again. And speaking of Gentaro, he is such a driving force in FP too. Like he’s an unwitting mom friend and he is both aware of it and absolutely exhausted from it. But I do think he cares a lot. Too much to be honest. And I think that may be that part of Gentaro that is kinda romantic at heart. And that he doesn’t want to admit that he only met Ramuda and Dice for one day but if anything were to happen to them, then he’d kill everyone in the room and then himself. A little exaggerated but Gentaro does seem very attached to these guys when he honestly doesn’t seem the type to really make friends. Maybe their energy remind him of his friend or it’s that whole introvert gets brought into a fold because more outgoing person was like ‘I like you, let’s go.’

When it comes to his crew, Gentaro does have apprehension with Ramuda though and kind of rightfully so. His ‘liar’s intuition’ was not off about feeling something was strange with their leader and Ramuda KNEW that Gentaro had that feeling. But they never pried into each other. Gentaro because he could tell Ramuda would shut him out, making his snooping incomplete forever. Ramuda because...well, as far as he’s concerned, he already knows all he needs to about Gentaro. They are honestly such observant and calculating people that they kind of end up in cat and mouse deal. I say this because while I do believe Gentaro does care, I do also believe he is still using Ramuda to some extent for some unseen goal. He probably wouldn’t risk Ramuda’s life over it though.

Ramuda’s whole journey of feelings could best be summed up as him catching feelings and instead of being glad, he’s like ‘No. God. Fuck! WHY?!’ He didn’t ask for this, you bastards tripped him! Like I feel like Ramuda went through this whole time fulfilling his whims because it’s the only time they would ever be filled. And he was running with it never being able to last because all it takes is one order and it’s done. He’s seen it happen. He’s made it happen. There’s no way he can stop it but...because there is some piece of him that aches for humanity. So, he considers his time with FP like sweets, little indulgences he is allowed until eventually he’s pulled away. But Ramuda still feels things and I felt like FP he was much more guarded than he was with TDD because he was still living down the pain he felt for...basically, taking someone important from people he considered friends! He hurt his friends and probably didn’t want to do that to them again. Which explains this false closeness Ramuda puts up with FP.

Although they did get to him during the 1st DRB because Gentaro and Dice only cared about how Ramuda was and him doing things his way and on his own terms. Sure they didn’t know what was happening but they gave him courage to be unapologetically himself since that is what he wanted but he never thought of the weight of what that means. That sometimes being yourself means that you choose a path that isn’t easy. And Gentaro and Dice would know what that’s like. While I believe Gentaro is well off, I’m sure he’s still seen as a weirdo just because of how he dresses. It is stubbornly outdated when he lives in, arguably, one of the most trendy and up-to-date wards but he doesn’t care. He’s himself and to hell with those that make fun of him. And Dice, well, his habits make him do and say strange things. I won’t say he has no pride but he is...shameless, which can be very off-putting in the context of the things he’s done for money or the thrill. And Dice doesn’t care either. He’s doing exactly what makes him happy and that’s all that matters. Because they know, they could convey the sincerity in wanting Ramuda’s self shining through that it actually got him. With the 2nd DRB (which at the time of writing, the FP vs MTC CD is not out), I hope that they allow for more time of FP getting to deal with Ramuda’s ‘true self’ and Ramuda allowing that to show. Which...from what I’ve heard from those that have heard the full version of Black Journey....seems like a strong possibility.

Finally rounding off and probably both fortunately and unfortunately my shortest would be Dice. *cue my long and frustrated groan* He has so much to do with things but he isn’t used. Truly, Dice is underutilized story wise. And unfortunately I have the least to say because his is straight forward. He just does not care. Not that he doesn’t care about FP but he does not care about all the things THEY worry he wouldn’t like them for. He doesn’t care about their past. He doesn’t care what they’ve done. He doesn’t care who they decide to be to him. For Dice, I think it’s a simple ‘but I’m loyal if you feed me and I’ll never leave you because, well I need the food.’ It’s not actually that simple since Dice has never and would never leave FP despite someone that could possibly continually provide what he wants or needs (this lovely man named Rio exists). But I just think that Dice doesn’t really hold grudges. Even though they haven’t interacted this go around, I don’t think he really hates Hifumi and Doppo since that’s a lot time of time to invest in not liking them and I just don’t Dice giving enough shits to do so. I do mainly think it’s because if Dice respects them not prying into them, they’ll do so and not look into him. And it’s this lack of prying that earns both Gentaro and Ramuda’s friendship because they don’t want that. That and Dice would defend them regardless of if they could’ve handled the situation are not. All because they are friends. And nothing else.

Phew. This is a lot. Like way more than the MTR one but that’s because it has so many moving parts. Like FP are so individualistic that you need to go for each one specifically. I hope that this was something close to what you were looking for lovely anon.

#Anonymous #long post #fling posse #ramuda amemura #dice arisugawa #gentaro yumeno

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yandere-daydreams · 5 years ago

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Since requesrs are open and I have a weakness for lucid yanderes, let's play with Zacharia!!

I have such a soft spot for big, soft, guilt-ridden Yanderes with only the best of morals and the worst of intentions. It’s only fitting that I treat Zacharia with the same expectations.

TW: Stalking, Break-Ins, Verbal Abuse and Threats of Harm.

It’s funny, what people can get used to.

For a month ago, you’d been a paranoid wreck. Sleeping was difficult, a risky activity that ended more often in soreness and paranoia than in rest, and going outside was something to be handled with severe precision, unless you wanted to come home to another gift you didn’t ask for and another broken lock that’d be too expensive to repair. You knew you had a stalker and you were terrified that things would escalate, living in fear and constantly fretting whenever something was out of place, even if you doubted any self-respecting voyeur would break into your apartment just to rearrange your mugs. It’d been hell, but… it wasn’t, anymore.

It was in your nature to adapt. Once you put a face to that ‘bump in the night’, you couldn’t really find it in yourself to be afraid. Or, not as afraid as you were, at least.

You could never fear Zacharia. Even if you wanted to.

He was already in your bedroom when you woke up. It was still an odd sight, to wake up to a familiar, lanky figure sorting through your belongings, the man already elbow-deep in your closet by the time your eyes began to adjust to the darkness, the soft sounds of rustling and muttering biting their way through the silence, once you could be bothered to hear them. The panic was only momentary, flooding into your veins but taking its leave just as quickly, and you released the last of it with a breathless, heavy sigh, resigning yourself to the presence of your unwelcomed guest. You hadn’t locked your door, tonight, in anticipation of his daily visit, but judging by the sudden draft and the lingering moans of your rarely-used fire escape, he hadn’t seen fit to use an entrance so public.

You groaned as you pushed yourself in a more dignified position, rubbing your eyes and attempting to blink yourself awake. You swung your legs over the side of your bed, but if Zacharia noticed, he didn’t make a point of showing his concern, too wrapped up in his task to acknowledge the world around him. You watched, for a few seconds, taking note of the rucksack at his feet, but seeing further evidence of his hobbies did little to faze you. Letting out a low, elongated whistle, not unlike that of an owner calling their pet, you stared on as Zacharia froze, going still on cue. His alarm was similar to yours, strong but fleeting, gone as quickly as it’d come. His shoulders squared, then dropped, his turmoil apparent as he tried to decide whether to run or attack. He always took a moment to decide. He’d never struck you as the decisive type, a judgment that was only affirmed as your companionship went on.

And, as always, he bit his lips, turned around, and failed to meet your eyes. Choosing neither given option, for whatever reason he’d rationalized in that fucked up head of his.

“For someone who does this so often, I thought you’d be a little better at it,” You started, shaking your head. Still, you patted the mattress next to you, gesturing for him to sit, and Zacharia obeyed with only a small bout of defiance. He settled quickly, hands permanently stuck in his lap, his back too straight for the position to be anything but painfully tense. You weren’t as conservative, leaning against his side, your head coming to rest on his shoulder teasingly. “I mean, you get off on it, right? Sneaking into your neighbors’ homes, taking some of their stuff and… what? Jerking off to it?” You paused, letting him cringe, his flush becoming visible, even in the darkness. “Or, is it a trophy thing? Do you have a collection? A shrine, Zachy?”

He sputtered, naturally, stumbling and stuttering over his thoughts before coming up with a coherent response. Even then, he spoke as if he’d never done so before, the words coming slowly, hesitantly. You couldn’t blame him. It must’ve been hard to speak to someone you’d spent so long tormenting, only a few weeks ago. “I don’t… I don’t do this for anyone else,” He admitted, opting not to indulge your theories on what he did with the fruits of his effort. “You know that, (Y/n). I’m not some creep who does this for fun--”

“You’re not a creep?” You cut him off gracelessly, the question dripping with faux-innocence. You took his arm, toying with his sleeves playfully, tugging at the fabric and prodding at the muscle beneath it, more for yourself than for him. Although, you weren’t opposed to the way he stiffened under your touch. It was nice to feel like you were in-charge, for once. “Is that what you’d tell the police, if I called them about the strange, scary man who keeps breaking in? Is that what you’d tell the locksmith who had to patch-up the mutilated knob on my front door, last week? Are you really going to sit in my bedroom, on my bed, with my toothbrush in that back of yours while trying to tell me all about how you’re not a creep?”

He let you finish, but his jaw clenched a little tighter with each word, his teeth soon grit too harshly and his fists quickly balled around your sheets, his knuckles turning white with the strain of his grip. “I’m not,” He spat, an aggression in his voice that wasn’t there before. You opened your mouth, ready to confirm his guilt, but Zacharia caught you off-guard, his free hand rising and latching onto your wrist, keeping you in place as you tried to pull away. His nails dug into your skin, painted and pointed, as if they’d been cut and styled for the singular purpose of tearing through your flesh. “Stalkers are perverts, they’re disgusting, they’re… they’re wrong. I’m not wrong, I can’t be wrong.”

“You’re not exactly right.” You were getting hostile too, now, but you couldn’t help it. Your self-control tended to waver, in the face of such an obvious threat. “Let me go, I don’t want to--”

“It’s your fault.” Your wrist was pinned to the sheets with ease, a new array of fingers making their way to your hair, brushing it back gently before finding something to hold onto and clenching down, keeping you in front of him despite how badly you wanted not to be. “If you weren’t so close, I wouldn’t have to do this. But, no, you just had to move in. You just couldn’t lock your door, or shut your windows or do a single goddamn thing to keep me out.” He forced out a breath, a ragged, uneven exhale, but it hardly fazed him. You doubted there was anything that could, anymore. “You just had to be so open. I wouldn’t have come in, if you weren’t.”

You were too shocked to speak, staring blankly as he bared his teeth and growled, but your stupor seemed to pull Zackaria out of his trance. His eyes widened, lips parting and coming together repeatedly, and he dropped you with a mumbled apology, standing rigidly before walking much too calmly to your bedroom door, not bothering to shut it as he left. You heard him exit properly, his footsteps still echoing as he started down the hall towards his own apartment, but you couldn’t bring yourself to check. You could hardly bring yourself to think, and even then, there was only one thing you could focus on.

You needed to buy more deadbolts.

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