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jellykyunnie · 7 months ago

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˗ˏˋ Entry : 050 - Lover! HSR Men x Fem! Reader: Can't sleep at night.... ♡ ˎˊ˗

꒰ Caelus, Aventurine, Sunday, Dan Heng ꒱

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚ ℂ𝕒𝕖𝕝𝕦𝕤 ˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

"Alright, who is begging to be whooped by my bat—" Caelus announces, his voice full of conviction as he held his bat until his gaze lowered down to see your sorry little state clutching a miniature plushie of him you got from the trailblaze stern's merchandise. "O-oh, babe!"

He immediately panics and throws away the bat he was ready to swing at a moment's notice.

"I uhm... Heh!" He scratches the back of his head before taking your hand. "What's wrong? It's really late now, did you have a nightmare?"

"No... Not really" You slump, entirely upset. "I watched a sad movie and now I can't sleep."

"... Ah, that old film Mr. Yang recommended?" Caelus hums thoughtfully, "Wanna hit the hay with me then? My new room is really big and I got new pillows!"

"Please" You nod sheepishly as your boyfriend guides you inside the upturned storeroom he spent days decorating and renovating.

It was a sight to behold knowing how empty and barren the place was until the astral express team decided to give him the space. Now Caelus had a whole paradise to himself. A kitchen, his own bathroom, a weapon station, and even his massive gaming area that he spent hours on end when the crew isn't off doing training or he's joining March on whatever stupidity to stress Dan Heng and Sunday with since the former head of the oak family has decided to hitchhike for a little while.

"Wanna talk about the movie?" Caelus asks as he kisses your plump cheek so you would look at him. "Or is it too sad?"

You shook your head, not wanting to recall the film that made you look at the wall and contemplate life. Mr. Yang is truly cruel for suggesting such a sad movie.

"Hm..." He ponders, trying to recall the contents of the book he asked from Dan Heng about cheering up your girlfriend who is clearly upset.

Now that he thinks about it, the contents of that book is too cringey and will probably not help you at all.

"Anything you want me to do?" He gently ruffles the side of your head.

"Sunday told me he taught you some voice thingies" You say, your eyes glimmering as you look up at his golden orbs.

"Well, uhm... Err... About that" A dust of pink tinges on his fair cheeks.

He wanted to surprise you with a love song on your anniversary so he secretly started asking voice lessons from him, but maybe he should have told the halovian man that it's for a surprise.

"You will, right?... Right?" You nod expectantly, making Caelus feel all the more helpless as he can't resist his lover.

"Alright, alright" He nods as he clears his throat.

"You can do it, Caelus. Sunday said your voice is really good, just relax" He tells himself.

He needed a bit more time as he developed the courage, but eventually he started humming. He remembered Sunday's lessons well after all, he should be fine.

Caelus kept humming for a while until he noticed you completely passed out in his arms and nuzzling his chest. He silently screamed a victorious howl, crying of joy and thanking Sunday for joining the astral express and for the free singing lessons.

Now he knows the perfect way of coaxing you to sleep without using unconventional methods. The strict guidance he underwent from Sunday is all not in vain.

After all, he has his cute girlfriend snuggled up against him with a miniature plushie version of himself in her arms. What more can he ask for?

So gently, he squeezed you in his arms while kissing your cheek.

"Goodnight, baby. I hope you dream pleasant dreams"

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚ 𝔸𝕧𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕖 ˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

Aventurine has just finished working on his remaining paperworks for the evening until there was a knock on his office, he lazily called out to come in and perked up at the sight if your wearing the pajamas he bought for you the other day.

"Ah, look at you, darling. I knew the limited edition one made of fine silk suits your cute figure, come come. I want to admire you more." Aventurine urges you to come over.

And once you were near enough, he perched you on his lap and peppered your pretty face with kisses.

"It's bedtime now, though, why are you still awake, hm?" He inquires as he strokes the top of your head.

"Can't sleep..." You complain softly as Aventurine presses his lips on your forehead.

"Mm, is it because you need me by your ride to sleep?" He teases.

"Mhm..." You nod sheepishly, feeling childish for such a demand.

"Ah, how cute!" Aventurine muses, giving you another plethora of kisses. "I would love to join you in bed, but as you can see, the ipc is working me to the bone again and I have just returned from break"

He gestures to the piles of paperwork still on his desk and open documents on the screen.

"Can I stay here then?" You ask, playing with his necktie. "I'll be good, I promise"

"Whatever makes your pretty little head happy, dearest" The signonian man hums, pulling your head to the crook of his neck as a way to coax you into sleeping.

The room soon falls into silence, with the exception of Aventurine's writing and keyboard typings. A sweet aroma of wood and citrus permeates through his office, making the whole place even more cozier than it already is.

And soon, you would find yourself lost in dreamland in your beloved's arms.

It took him a while to notice, but Aventurine soon realizes you're completely asleep. He smiles gently, his heterochromatic eyes gazing so lovingly at your face.

He never really thought he would be holding you like this again given all the trouble he went through in penacony. Not to mention, he was dead set on disappearing there until a knight of beauty rescued him from hell.

Aventurine is not taking another chance at being so reckless again knowing that someone as precious as you is waiting for him at home. And how could he leave you when you're this adorable and clingy? He would rather be humiliated than ever make you upset again.

So once again, he kisses your forehead— A lingering one this time as a way to bless you in your sleep.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚ 𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕒𝕪 ˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

Sunday's days are finally peaceful and stress-free ever since he became a runaway fugitive in Penacony. Who knew staying in the astral express can bless him with such clarity and tranquility? He's never had his guard down like this when he was the head of the oak family. He always presented himself as the most perfect person as he can be.

But now, he is dressed in an outfit that is asymmetrical. He lives in a space where there is a mess here and there that he cannot help but tidy up as a way to help pompom. It's quite awkward to reside in the train that bodyslammed him multiple times when he was at the peak of insanity. But this will do. Yes. This will do. Sunday is, after all, still adjusting to the life in the astral express, the astral express that you are also part of.

"Sunny?..." You call out to him as he arranges some books that he borrowed from Dan Heng as a way to pass the time.

"Dearest." The halovian smiles lovingly, putting down the books he is holding and gesturing you to his bed so he can sit you down. "My love, if you sleep this late then you will he moody in the morning again"

He cups your cheek gently, his wings fluttering softly as he touches your skin.

"I just can't sleep... I was scared you're still missing" You murmur, making his heart ache.

"I told you, it's alright now. I'm hitchhiking here" He reassures you before tucking you in his sheets. "I promised you that I will protect you as I give my services to the astral express, you needn't be so distressed."

He then ponders for a while, "Shall I hum you a tune then? My sister used to be like you when she has trouble resting. While I would normally suggest that we listen to her albums, it seems that my love needs 'Sunny'— More right now."

It was awkward to use that nickname, but he would make an exception for his beloved.

"Mhm..." You nod, intertwining your fingers together.

Sunday started to hum a lullaby he used to coax Robin with when they were little. A soft, steady and melancholic lullaby his mother taught him when he was younger. It was one of the few things he cherishes from her. Though her departure is abrupt and sudden, Sunday chooses to remember all the joyous memories he has given him and his baby sister.

And part of that way is singing you the lullaby she would sing. It never fails to soothe you after all.

See?

Your already breathing so slowly. Your chest would rise and fall in a steady manner and he would eventually stop.

"There we go, my little bird" Sunday cooes, kissing your forehead. "Don't worry about me anymore. I will stay by your side as long as you permit me to. I want to see the stars with you a bit longer, so rest well."

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚ 𝔻𝕒𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕟𝕘 ˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

"Yes?..." Dan Heng answers the door and sees you fidgeting with your little fingers.

"Hi..." You awkwardly greet him.

"..." The vidyadhara steps aside, a silent way of inviting you in since he knew what is going on.

"Am I bothering you?" You ask, glancing at the paperwork on his desk scattered around.

"No, I was finished anyway" Dan Heng shakes his head, "Ignore the papers. I was just reviewing some stuff regarding our recent expenses,"

His blue eyes then glance down at you who is holding a teddy bear he gave you as a present on your birthday. The sight softens his heart.

He lifted his blanket, tipping his head over to it so you can snuggle in.

Once you are settled, Dan Heng tucks you in before climbing in himself.

"Aren't you uncomfortable with my bed?" He inquires, softly patting your hip to coax you into sleep. "I don't have a comfortable mattress like March and Caelus."

"But yours is the warmest" You shake your head.

"Is that so?" He smiles softly, "Shall I tell you a bedtime story the elders tell the children then?"

"Stories?" You perk up at the suggestion.

The stories from the xianzhou loufu are always fascinating and Dan Heng had a talent for story-telling. Maybe it's because of the fact that he loves reading books that he has a knack for it.

He starts telling you the folklore that he finds fascinating. His voice is low but not too quiet, he expresses the right emotions as needed and fluctuates his voice to immerse you further in the story.

It never fails to amuse Dan Heng on the precious way your eyes would light up at the climax of the story and when he tells you the twists.

You are always so amazed by the folk lore he tells like a little girl.

By the end of the story, you are ironically more exhausted than he is as you struggle to keep your eyes open.

"What a fun and sad story" You yawn, "Are stories from the xianzhou loufu always full of tragedy?"

"Not really, I just chose this story in particular for tonight" He kisses your forehead as a way to apologize, "I'll tell you a happier one next time then, forgive me for this one."

"Nuh-uh... It's okay" You shake your head as your eyes finally close. "I like Dan Heng's stories..."

And just like that, you are asleep in the vidyadhara's arms— Warming his heart all the more at the sight of you so snuggled up on him.

Truth be told, Dan Heng never thought there would come a day wherein he would ever have a lover. He's always busy attending to the data bank and taking care of March and Caelus to spare them from their stupidity. There are times where he is just so over them and lets them be stupid though just so they can have a taste of their medicine.

But with you? He would never do that.

Dan Heng will always keep you out of danger. He wont necessarily direct you to what not to do or what to— But he will be by your side and ready to extend a guiding hand should you actually need him.

Every boyfriend wants to cherish his dearest darling.

And Dan Heng is no exception to that.

Telling you bedtime stories is just one of the few duties he enjoys doing as your lover and he silently hopes that you keep coming to him to hear all about his culture that he adores.

He presses his lips on yours, applying a chaste kiss before muttering in his native tongue— A silent oath that vidyadharas have to their fated ones. An oath that he binds himself to you. To his beloved. To the one who owns his heart.

꒰ 🪼 A/N: Moshi moshi (⁠｡⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠｡⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠♡, this is my official hsr fanfic heuehshab. These four are my most fave in the game currently and I couldn't resist the idea of bedtime with my boys(⁠*⁠´⁠ω⁠｀⁠*⁠), so here! This is my first official offering and to many more. I will add a few more lovers ofc, but I wanted to kickstart it off with these bbs in particular( ∩´͈ ᐜ `͈∩). ꒱

ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .｡✧: ~♡ —! stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.

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velvetvisionsaurora · 6 days ago

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Pairing: Mafia Ateez OT8x Reader

Warnings: smut, fluff, angst, poly ateez, violence and weapons, mafia ateez, organized crime, parental death and grieving process, bullying, possessive and controlling behavior, suicidal thoughts

Summary: When Y/n Ricci is forced to marry Kim Hongjoong—leader of the notorious ATEEZ organization and one of eight men who cruelly abandoned her seven years ago—she finds herself trapped in their heavily guarded compound with the ghosts of her past. As she navigates the dangerous world of mafia politics and her own wounded heart, Y/n discovers that all eight powerful, irresistible men still harbor deep feelings for her, suggesting an unconventional solution to their shared dilemma. But before she can consider forgiving them, let alone loving them again, she must uncover the dark secret that tore them apart—a truth that could either heal their fractured bonds or destroy them all completely.

18+ only- No Minors

<<Previous Next>>

Masterlist

Chapter 5: Target Practice and Proximity

Off limits. Like you're property. Like you're a possession to be controlled and monitored.

They hadn't just trapped you in this house, they'd cut you off from the outside world entirely. From your friends, your support system, your entire life beyond these walls.

The audacity. The absolute fucking audacity.

They want to play games with your life? They want to isolate you completely?

“KIM HONGJOONG!”

Your voice echoes through the house like a war cry as you storm toward the gym, bare feet slapping against marble with each furious step. The rage coursing through your veins has reached a boiling point that makes your earlier knife-throwing incident look like a mild disagreement.

You slam the glass door open with such force that spider web cracks spread across its surface, the sound of fracturing glass punctuating your entrance like an exclamation point. Seven heads turn toward you in various states of surprise and alarm.

"Well, good morning to you as well, my lovely fiancé," Hongjoong says with faux sincerity, not even pausing in his workout routine. Sweat glistens across his torso as he continues his reps, treating your explosive entrance like a minor inconvenience.

You respond to his saccharine greeting with a perfectly articulated middle finger.

"I'm off limits?" you spit, the words dripping with venom.

“Because you’re mine now.” Hongjoong doesn’t even look at you, his focus remaining on his weights as if you’re nothing more than background noise. “And what’s mine doesn’t associate with other men.”

“Yours?” You let out a harsh laugh that echoes off the gym walls. “I’m not your fucking property, Kim Hongjoong.”

He finally stops his workout, setting down the weights with deliberate care before turning to face you. There’s something predatory in his gaze as he steps closer, invading your personal space.

“Aren’t you?” he asks softly, his voice carrying a dangerous edge. “Your father signed the contract. Your name will be Kim in three months. That makes you mine in every way that matters.”

“A piece of paper doesn’t make me yours,” you spit back, refusing to back down even as he towers over you. “And neither does some archaic notion of ownership.”

His lips curve into that infuriating smirk. “We’ll see about that, little one.” The casual dismissal, the way he speaks about your future as if it's already set in stone, as if your opinion matters less than appearances, sends your anger to stratospheric levels.

"So I truly am a prisoner?" Your voice rises with each word. "So that means what—I won't be allowed to see any of my friends? Will I have to move so I won't be around any of the guys here?" The implications hit you, looking around. "Are you planning to isolate me from everyone I care about?"

Hongjoong stands to his full height, his expression infuriatingly calm. "Maybe so."

Your nostrils flare at his words, the casual cruelty of them stealing the breath from your lungs. The gym falls deadly silent except for the sound of your ragged breathing.

"Hongjoong, you know she has an attitude problem," Wooyoung stage-whispers from across the room, clearly trying to ease the tension with his trademark humor. "Why would you anger it?"

Your eyes slice toward him like laser beams, and Wooyoung suddenly becomes very interested in his water bottle, examining it as if it holds the secrets of the universe.

"Oh, would you look at that," he says dramatically, holding up the obviously full bottle. "Completely empty. I should really go refill this. The kitchen water is so much better than... here."

He takes a step toward the door, but your voice stops him cold.

"Don't you dare move, Jung Wooyoung."

Hongjoong sighs, finally seeming to realize that his dismissive attitude has pushed you past your breaking point. "You can't be seen with other men, or texting Chris Bang. It wouldn't make our marriage believable."

"What I do with my personal business is—" You stop mid-sentence, a horrifying realization dawning. Your eyes narrow as you look between all of them. "How did you know I was texting Chris?"

Hongjoong just stares at you, his expression giving away nothing. The silence stretches uncomfortably until Wooyoung starts fidgeting, looking increasingly nervous.

"Well, the water in the kitchen really is much better," he babbles, taking another step toward the exit. "Much more... hydrating. I should really—"

You move faster than anyone expects, grabbing him by the shirt collar and yanking him back. Your faces are inches apart as you look directly into his wide eyes.

"Are you running surveillance on my phone?" you ask, your voice deadly quiet.

Wooyoung swallows hard, his usual confidence evaporating under your intense stare. "Well... I mean... I'm personally not..."

The admission hits you like a physical blow. They've been watching you. Reading your private conversations. Monitoring your every interaction with the outside world. Yunho. You look at the resident hacker and tech nerd, who has the decency to look sheepish.

A growl of pure fury escapes your throat. "I would say I'm going to shoot Yunho, but we all know it was your leader's idea."

You release Wooyoung's collar with enough force to send him stumbling backward. Your gaze sweeps the room, taking in their various expressions—guilt, defiance, nervousness, and in San's case, what looks almost like admiration.

But it's Wooyoung's reaction that catches you off guard. Instead of looking ashamed or apologetic, he's staring at you with a dreamy expression, his eyes slightly glazed.

"God, you're so hot when you're angry," he breathes, apparently forgetting that he's supposed to be nervous. "Like, seriously. The way your eyes get all fierce and your voice gets that growly thing... it's doing things to me."

The entire gym falls silent. Even Hongjoong stops his posturing to stare at Wooyoung in disbelief.

"Did you just..." Yunho starts.

"He did," Yeosang confirms quietly.

"While she's threatening to shoot people," Jongho adds, sounding almost impressed.

San starts laughing—not his usual charming chuckle, but full-bodied laughter that echoes off the gym walls. "Only Wooyoung would get turned on by a death threat."

"It's not just the death threat," Wooyoung protests, his cheeks flushing but his eyes still fixed on you with unmistakable desire. "It's everything. The fire in her eyes, the way she's not backing down, how fierce she looks. She's magnificent."

Your anger falters for just a moment, derailed by the sheer absurdity of the situation. Here you are, discovering that they've been violating your privacy, threatening violence, and Wooyoung is having what appears to be a very public moment of arousal.

"Are you insane?" you ask, genuinely bewildered.

"Probably," he admits cheerfully. "But you're still gorgeous when you're ready to commit murder."

The comment draws a snort of unwilling amusement from Mingi, who's been silent throughout the entire confrontation. Even Seonghwa's lips twitch slightly, though he tries to maintain his diplomatic composure.

But your momentary confusion quickly gives way to renewed fury as you remember why you're here.

"Do not," you say, pointing a finger at Wooyoung, "think that your inappropriate attraction is going to distract me from the fact that you've all been spying on me."

"It's not spying," Hongjoong interjects, apparently deciding to rejoin the conversation. "It's security."

"Security?" You whirl on him. "Reading my private messages is security?"

"When those messages involve contact with potential threats, yes."

"Chris isn't a threat! He's my friend!"

"He's an unmarried male heir with his own agenda," Hongjoong counters. "And you're going to be my wife. That makes you off-limits to men like him."

The possessiveness in his tone, the casual way he claims ownership over your social life, sends you spiraling back into rage.

"I am not your property," you snarl. "I am not a possession to be controlled and monitored. I am a person with my own thoughts, feelings, and relationships."

"You're a Ricci who's about to become a Kim," he replies coldly. "Your relationships affect our family's reputation. Everything you do reflects on us now."

"Then maybe you should have thought of that before agreeing to this farce of a marriage," you snap back.

The words hang in the air like a challenge. Around the room, the other members watch the standoff with varying degrees of tension and fascination. This is clearly a battle of wills that's been building since your arrival, and now it's finally come to a head.

Hongjoong steps closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "This marriage is happening whether you like it or not. You can make it easy on yourself by accepting the rules, or you can make it difficult and face the consequences."

"Is that a threat?"

"It's a promise."

The words crackle between you like electricity. In this moment, with fury radiating from both of you, it's impossible to tell if you want to kill each other or...

"Oh my God," Wooyoung whispers reverently. "The sexual tension in here is incredible. You two are like fire and gasoline."

"Wooyoung," Seonghwa warns.

"What? I'm just saying what we're all thinking. Look at them—they're practically breathing fire at each other. It's the hottest thing I've ever seen."

Your face burns with a mixture of anger and something else you refuse to acknowledge. "You're all insane," you declare, backing toward the door. "Completely, utterly insane."

As you reach the cracked glass door, you turn back to face them one last time.

"And Hongjoong? The next time you want to know who I'm talking to, try asking instead of spying. You might be surprised by how cooperative I can be when treated like a human being instead of a prisoner."

With that, you storm out, leaving eight men in various states of arousal, amusement, and stunned silence.

Behind you, you hear Wooyoung's dreamy voice: "I think I'm in love."

"You've been in love with her for years," comes San's dry response.

"Yeah, but now I'm in love and turned on. It's a dangerous combination."

You slam the door to your room hard enough to rattle the windows, but even through your fury, you can't quite shake the image of Wooyoung's glazed expression or the way Hongjoong's eyes had darkened when you'd challenged him.

Dangerous indeed.

* * *

You storm back to your room, slamming the door with enough force to rattle the windows. The confrontation in the gym replays in your mind—Hongjoong's possessive declarations, the casual way he discussed monitoring your communications, the infuriating smirk when you'd challenged him.

Your phone lays on the floor where you'd dropped it after Chris's devastating revelation. With shaking fingers, you scroll through your contacts until you find Marco's number. He picks up on the second ring.

"Sorellina? You're calling early today. Everything alright?"

The concern in his voice nearly breaks your composure. Marco has always been your anchor, the one person in your family who sees you as more than just a political asset.

"No," you say, your voice cracking slightly. "Nothing is alright."

"What happened?"

You take a deep breath, trying to organize your thoughts. "Hongjoong declared me off limits to all unmarried men in the alliance. Chris can't even talk to me anymore. None of my male friends can."

Silence stretches across the line. When Marco finally speaks, his voice is carefully controlled. "Y/n..."

"They've been monitoring my phone, Marco. Reading my private messages. And now they've essentially announced to everyone that I'm property of the Kim family." The words tumble out in a rush, years of frustration and fresh rage mixing into a volatile combination.

"Shit," Marco mutters, and you can hear him moving around, probably pacing his office like he does when he's thinking. "When did this happen?"

"Yesterday, apparently. Chris just told me. He said word came down from the Kim family directly."

Another pause. "Y/n, I need you to listen to me, okay? And I need you to stay calm."

Something in his tone makes your stomach clench. "What do you mean, stay calm? They're treating me like a possession, Marco. Like I'm some medieval bride being traded between kingdoms."

"Because in our world, that's essentially what you are," he says gently. "Sorellina, this wasn't Hongjoong specifically. This is standard protocol for the Kim family—for most of our families, actually."

You sink onto the edge of your bed, feeling like the floor has shifted beneath your feet. "What?"

"It's like an engagement announcement, but more... comprehensive. When a family announces that their heir is marrying someone, especially someone from another powerful family, they declare that person off limits. It's about respect, territorial boundaries, preventing conflicts."

"But Chris said—"

"Chris is Bang family. They've been allies with the Kims for decades. Of course they'd receive the notification." Marco's voice is patient, explanatory, like he's teaching you something fundamental about your world that you should have already known. "Y/n, every family in the alliance probably received the same message within hours of your engagement being finalized."

The implications crash over you like a cold wave. This isn't Hongjoong being possessive or controlling—though he certainly is both of those things. This is protocol. Tradition. The way business is conducted in your world.

"I didn't know," you whisper.

"Why would you? Papa never explained these things to you because you were never supposed to be the one getting married. That was supposed to be my responsibility." There's a note of guilt in Marco's voice. "But with the Russo situation escalating and the need for immediate alliance..."

"He chose me instead," you finish hollowly.

"The Kim family specifically requested you, actually. Hongjoong's choice, from what I understand."

That stops you cold. "What?"

"Papa didn't tell you? The marriage proposal came from Hongjoong directly. He could have chosen any unmarried daughter from the allied families, but he asked for you specifically."

Your mind reels, trying to process this information. Hongjoong had asked for you. After seven years of silence, he'd specifically requested you as his bride.

"Why?" you ask, though you're not sure you want to know the answer.

"My guess? Papa has been thinking of marrying you to one of the mafia families for protection for a while now. Papa and Mr. Kim are close, so I assume Hongjoong got wind of it."

"Possessive," you say flatly.

"Protective," Marco corrects gently.

You snort. "If I have so many protectors, why am I always the one getting hurt?"

Marco is silent for a moment, and when he speaks again, his voice is softer. "Because none of us are very good at protecting against emotions, sorellina. Just against violence."

The truth of that statement sits heavily in your chest. Marco was eight years your senior, your father's son from his first marriage. Elena, your mother, hadn't been his biological mother, but he had loved her just the same—and he had been there for you when everyone else had disappeared.

After your mother died and the boys abandoned you, it was Marco who had picked up the pieces. Marco who had held you through nights of endless tears. Marco who had made sure you ate when food seemed pointless. Marco who had literally stood between you and the balcony railing one particularly dark night when living had seemed too painful to continue.

He was the reason you were still breathing. The reason you had found your strength again.

‘No, you're the only one who actually protects me,’ you think to yourself.

Marco chuckles, the sound warm and familiar. "At the end of the day, Y/n Ricci doesn’t need protecting. Still throwing knives at him?"

"Just the once. Though I'm considering making it a daily occurrence."

"My money's on you if it comes to actual violence," he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. "But Y/n, try to understand—this off-limits declaration, it's not necessarily about controlling you. It's about protecting the alliance, preventing misunderstandings, making it clear that you're under Kim protection now."

"Protection," you repeat flatly. "It feels like imprisonment."

"In our world, they're often the same thing," Marco says quietly. "You know that."

You do know that. You've always known that. But somehow, experiencing it firsthand feels different than understanding it in theory.

"I hate this," you admit, the words barely audible.

"I know, sorellina. I know." Marco's voice is soft, sympathetic. "But you're a Ricci. We adapt, we survive, and we find ways to win even when the game is rigged against us."

"And if I can't adapt to this?"

"Then you'll do what you've always done—you'll burn everything down and rebuild it your way." There's pride in his voice now, the kind of fierce affection that's sustained you through the worst moments of your life. "The Kims think they're getting a compliant mafia princess. They have no idea what they've actually signed up for."

Despite everything, you find yourself smiling slightly. "You really think I can handle this?"

"Y/n, you've been preparing for this world your entire life, even if you didn't know it. You're sharper than most of the men in these families, you're ruthless when you need to be, and you have a moral compass that will keep you from becoming a monster." Marco pauses. "Plus, you're scary as hell when you're angry. That's going to serve you well."

"The scary part seems to be working," you admit, thinking of Wooyoung's reaction in the gym. "Though not in the way I expected."

Marco laughs. "What do you mean?"

You find yourself telling him about the confrontation, about Wooyoung's completely inappropriate response to your threats, about the way the others had reacted. By the time you finish, Marco is laughing so hard he can barely speak.

"Oh my God," he gasps. "Y/n, you have eight of the most dangerous men in the city wrapped around your finger and you don't even realize it."

"That's not—they hate me, Marco. They abandoned me seven years ago, remember?"

"Sorellina," Marco says, his voice turning serious again, "men don't monitor someone they hate. They don't specifically request someone they hate for marriage. And they definitely don't get turned on by death threats from someone they hate."

The words settle in your chest, creating an uncomfortable flutter that you don't want to examine too closely.

"Maybe," you say finally. "But that doesn't change what they did to me."

"No, it doesn't," Marco agrees. "And you have every right to make them pay for that. Just... try not to actually kill anyone. I don't want to have to explain to Papa why his daughter is wanted for murder."

"No promises," you say, but you're smiling now.

"Fair enough. Listen, Y/n, I have a meeting I can't postpone, but call me tonight, okay? And remember—you're not as powerless in this situation as you think you are."

After he hangs up, you sit in the quiet of your room, processing everything he's told you. The off-limits declaration wasn't personal—it was protocol. Hongjoong had specifically requested you as his bride. The Kim family, like most families in your world, operates by rules and traditions that value protection and territorial boundaries above individual freedom.

None of that makes you feel less trapped, but it does help you understand the game you're playing.

And if you're going to be stuck in this situation, you might as well learn to play it to win.

You look out the window at the oak tree, remembering Yeosang's words about Mingi and Wooyoung, remembering the careful way Hongjoong had watched you during your confrontation, the way Yunho's eyes had held desperate hope.

Maybe Marco is right. Maybe you have more power here than you realize.

The question is: what are you going to do with it?

* * *

The meeting room was thick with tension as all eight members of ATEEZ sat around the polished conference table. Hongjoong's jaw was still tight from the confrontation in the gym, while the others wore various expressions of concern, guilt, and in Wooyoung's case, lingering arousal.

"We need to discuss what just happened," Seonghwa began diplomatically, his fingers steepled as he surveyed the group.

"What's to discuss?" Hongjoong replied curtly. "She needs to understand her position."

"Her position?" Mingi's deep voice carried an edge of disapproval. "You mean as a prisoner?"

"As my future wife," Hongjoong corrected sharply.

"Same thing, apparently," San muttered, earning a glare from their leader.

Yunho shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "The phone monitoring... maybe we should have told her upfront."

"We went too far," Mingi said firmly, his usually gentle demeanor hardening. "Reading her private messages, isolating her from friends—we're treating her like the enemy instead of someone we're supposed to protect."

"Protect?" Jongho scoffed. "We're the ones she needs protection from at this point."

"She threw a knife at my head," Hongjoong reminded them.

"And you smirked about it," Yeosang observed quietly. "Almost like you enjoyed it."

"Because I did," Hongjoong admitted, running a hand through his hair. "Seeing that fire in her eyes, that defiance... it reminded me of why I—" He stopped himself abruptly.

"Why you fell in love with her in the first place?" Wooyoung finished with a dreamy sigh. "God, did you see her today? The way she grabbed my shirt, looked me right in the eye? I thought I was going to spontaneously combust."

"You have a problem," San told him flatly.

"The problem is that we're all still in love with her," Mingi said heavily. "And she hates us. We broke something precious seven years ago, and now we're making it worse."

"We didn't have a choice then," Seonghwa said, though his voice lacked conviction.

"And we do now?" Yunho asked. "Because we're still making choices that hurt her."

The room fell silent as the weight of their situation settled over them. They'd saved her life seven years ago by breaking her heart, and now they were slowly destroying what remained of her spirit.

"Maybe we should—" Hongjoong started.

*BANG!*

The sharp crack of gunfire cut through his words, sending all eight men to their feet in an instant. Training kicked in as they moved as one toward the sound, hands reaching for weapons

*BANG! BANG! BANG!*

The shots were coming from the garden, rapid and precise. They burst through the patio doors to find you standing in the far corner of the grounds, your mother's pearl-handled pistol extended in a perfect two-handed grip.

You were still in your outfit from the gym confrontation—the crisp white blouse now rolled up at the sleeves, your hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. But it was the deadly grace of your stance that made them all stop in their tracks.

*BANG!*

Another shot rang out, the bullet finding its mark in the center of an improvised target you'd set up against the garden wall—what looked like a photo taped to a piece of cardboard.

"Jesus Christ," San breathed.

You lowered the weapon, examining your handiwork with critical eyes before reloading with practiced efficiency. Only then did you notice your audience.

"Don't mind me," you called out with false sweetness. "Just working on my stress relief."

Wooyoung's face split into the widest grin any of them had seen from him since your return. "That was incredible! Did you see that grouping? She's a natural!"

"Her form is off," Mingi observed, his trained eye catching the slight imperfections in your stance.

You turned to face him, one eyebrow arched in challenge. "Your form is off," you replied with cutting sarcasm, though you made no move to correct your position.

Instead of being deterred by your attitude, Mingi stepped forward with characteristic determination. "May I?"

Something flickered in your eyes—surprise, perhaps, at his calm persistence. After a moment, you gave a short nod.

He approached slowly, respectfully, until he was standing just behind you. "Your stance is good, but your grip could be tighter," he said softly, his deep voice rumbling near your ear. "And you're tensing your shoulders."

His large hands came up to hover near yours, not quite touching but close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from his skin. "May I adjust your grip?"

The question was asked with such gentle formality that you found yourself nodding again, though your breath caught as his fingers finally made contact with yours.

Mingi's touch was surprisingly gentle for such large hands, his fingers carefully repositioning yours on the weapon's grip. "Like this," he murmured, his chest nearly brushing your back as he leaned in to check the sight line. "Feel the difference?"

You did feel a difference, though it had less to do with the gun and more to do with the way his proximity was affecting your ability to breathe properly. He smelled like sandalwood and something uniquely him, warm and comforting in a way that made your treacherous heart skip.

"Now, relax your shoulders," he continued, his hands ghosting over your shoulder blades without quite touching. "The tension travels down your arms and affects your accuracy."

Despite yourself, you found your body responding to his calm instruction, muscles you hadn't realized were tight beginning to loosen.

"Better," he said, satisfaction evident in his voice. "Now try."

You raised the weapon again, hyperaware of his presence behind you, the way he seemed to radiate calm strength. The shot that followed was noticeably more precise than your previous attempts.

"Perfect," Mingi said, and the pride in his voice sent an unwelcome warmth through your chest.

From their position by the patio, the other seven watched this interaction with varying degrees of fascination and envy. Wooyoung looked like he might vibrate out of his skin with excitement, while Hongjoong's expression had darkened considerably.

"Should we interrupt?" Yunho whispered.

"Absolutely not," Yeosang replied quietly. "This is the first time she's let any of us close since she arrived."

"Look at her," San murmured, noting the way your rigid posture had softened under Mingi's gentle guidance. "She's actually relaxed."

"Mingi always was good with her," Seonghwa observed. "Even as children, he could calm her down when the rest of us couldn't."

In the garden, you lowered the weapon again, turning slightly to look at Mingi. He was still standing close—closer than you'd allowed anyone since arriving—and for a moment, something passed between you that had nothing to do with firearms training.

You glanced at Yeosang who gave you a nod. You remember your conversation. "Mingi and Wooyoung—they don't show it the way the others do, but they were affected the worst by leaving you."

"Thank you," you said quietly, the words carrying more weight than a simple acknowledgment of instruction.

"Anytime," he replied, his eyes holding yours with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.

The moment stretched between you, fragile and tentative, until Wooyoung's excited voice shattered it.

"Can I try next? Please? I promise I'll be good!"

You stepped away from Mingi abruptly, the spell broken, your defenses slamming back into place. "I think that's enough for today," you said curtly, engaging the safety and tucking the pistol into your waistband.

As you walked past them toward the house, you paused beside Wooyoung. “Maybe next time.”

With that, you disappeared into the house, leaving eight men standing in the garden, each lost in their own thoughts about the woman who continued to surprise them at every turn.

"Did anyone else notice," Wooyoung said dreamily, "that she said 'next time'?"

"I noticed," Mingi said quietly, his eyes still fixed on the door where you'd disappeared. "I also noticed she didn't flinch when I touched her."

"Progress," Yeosang murmured.

"Dangerous progress," Hongjoong added, though his tone held more thoughtfulness than anger.

In the distance, they could hear a door slam—your door, most likely—but for the first time since your arrival, it didn't sound quite so final.

Maybe, just maybe, there was hope after all.

Next>>

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lunatic-pudge · 2 months ago

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Love Languages

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Happy Easter! Here's a gift from me to you, since you're just so amazing. <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Arthur Morgan:

Words of Affirmation: Arthur, is a man who has a lot to say about you. When he loves someone, he's likee a schoolgirl with a crush. He has so much he wants to say but sometimes he can't get the words out. So he'll write sappy little love letter to you and leave them for you to find. He also thrives from when you go on about how much you love him. It's enough to make a grown man almost cry

Gift Giving: When Arthur is out and about, he'll occasionally come across an item that makes him think of you and will get it for you. He's so shy when it comes to giving gifts it's adorable. He doesn't expect anything in return though, but always appreciates the little things you do for him

John Marston:

Acts of Service: John is a guy who just wants to do things for you. Need help carrying something? He's there to help carry the object. Need to go to town to get something? Don't worry about it, he's already on his horse heading off to get it for you. John is also like Arthur where he doesn't expect you to return the favor, but he does secretly enjoy it. And I can see him making it a fun little competition between you two as well

Physical Touch: I don't know why I just feel like John is a physical affection type of guy, especially when drunk. He's someone who will just throw himself onto you when he's feeling needy. Demanding all of your attention. Don't mind him, that's just how he be at times

Javier Escuella:

Physical Touch: Javier just adores physical touch. He's always got his hands on or around you, basking in your presence. He can usually be seen with an arm around your shoulders or waist, or just simply holding hands. I find that holding hands to be his particular favorite. It's simple yet wholesome

Words of Affirmation: This man! He has such a way with words. Especially when he breaks out his guitar. He knows how to woo people and won't hesitate to sing you love songs, whether it be in his mother tongue or not. Javier loves being able to make you blush also, and with how easily he does it, you gotta watch out for this man

Dutch Van Der Linde:

Gift Giving: Dutch loves being able to flaunt his leader status and won't hesitate to give you such lavish gifts. He wants you to look your best always. This man loves to spoil you rotten, it makes others envious of you. But like you care what others think

Acts of Service: Need something done, don't worry about lifting even a single finger. Dutch already has someone else doing it for you. Dutch's acts of services are more so having others do it for you, but he takes all the glory for it. Unconventional, but very much a Dutch thing. That's just how this man be at times. Only occasionally will he do the thing himself

Micah Bell:

Quality Time: Micah is a bit of a lone wolf, preferring to stay more on the outskirts of camp, but he enjoys having you around to keep him company. Sitting together, not saying a word, just doing your own thing, makes him a satisfied man. But he won't stop you if you wanna talk his ear off while he cleans his beloved revolvers. He enjoys the sound of your voice very much

Gift Giving: Micah is a hard one to read on what his love languages are, but I find that gift giving is a good one for him. But, the gifts aren't gonna be something like clothes and jewelry (like Dutch would), no, this man is giving you the essentials, guns, knives, and any weapons he can get his grubby hands on. Need a new holster for your gun, here's one plus a new revolver cause you can never have too many guns. He'd probably evenget you revolvers that look similar to his, but with your favorite color instead. It's the thought that counts with Micah

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr 2 #rdr 2 x reader #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #john marston #john marston x reader #javier escuella #javier escuelle x reader #dutch van der linde #dutch van der linde x reader #micah bell #micah bell x reader

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docgold13 · 10 months ago

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Heroes & Villains The DC Animated Universe - Paper Cut-Out Portraits and Profiles

The Justice Lords

The tyrannical Justice Lords were an alternate universe version of the Justice League who existed in a parallel dimension. This alternate reality was nearly entirely similar to that of the main DCAU with the significant distinction that the League had decided to take an extreme and authoritarian approach to enforcing their view of justice.

In this universe, Lex Luthor had become the President of The United States and his constant machinations to defeat the League resulted in his murdering The Flash. The death of his friend pushed Superman beyond his breaking point and he ruthlessly assassinated President Luthor. It was an act that set in motion a series of events that resulted in the League ultimately embracing a fascist approach to enforcing order. These one-time heroes became the ‘Justice Lords’ and took over control of the earth. There was peace and order, but no freedom; the populace obeyed the law out of fear and the threat of extreme retribution.

Following their total conquest of earth, Batman discovered the multiverse and found that there were other earths that were still in the throws disorder. Compelled by both their delusional righteousness and a thirst for conquest, The Justice Lords invaded the neighboring reality to enforce unto this world the same tyrannical order that they had achieved on their own realm.

Their first step in accomplishing this goal was to neutralize their parallel counterparts, which they were able to do with ease in that the Justice League never suspected their analogs would turn on them. The Justice League were then imprisoned on the counter earth while the Justice Lords began implementing their draconian rule over the new earth.

Whilst evenly matched, The Justice League had an advantage over their counterparts: their Flash was still alive. He was able to escape confinement and freed the other. The prime Earth Batman was then able to demonstrate to his counterpart the folly of his ways, how this Batman had betrayed the core principles of the mission they both shared. And with the other Batman’s aid, The League were able to escape back to their original world.

Once there, the League opted for an desperate and unconventional stratagem for defeating the remaining Justice Lords. They offered Lex Luthor a full pardon in exchange for his building a weapon that could nullify super powers. Working together with Batman, Luthor was able to complete this weapon and it proved effective in de-powering the Justice Lords. Once defeated, the Lords were sent back to their original world and their ultimate fate remains untold.

Although the League had triumphed and saved the day, it came at a heavy price. Not only was Luthor now free to sew whatever discord he invariably had planned, but the general public had seen firsthand the dire threat that could unfold were super humans to ever choose to embrace a might-makes-right attitude. The League’s ability to conquer the world seemed a suddenly plausible and frightening potentiality.

The Justice Lords featured in the twelfth and thirteenth episodes of the second season of Justice League, ‘A Better World Parts I and II.’

#Justice League #Justice Lords #DCAU #cut-outs #aper art #Superman #Batman #Wonder Woman #martian Manhunter #Hawkgirl #Green Lantern

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kafkasmeow · 1 year ago

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GI. ꗃ For the Tsaritsa (I)

part 1 part 2 part 3 etc

3.1 k words ─ reaction! ─ wriothesley x reader ─ second pov! reader ─ angst and fluff ─ reader wears heels and a corset but that’s it ─ cryo / dendro ─ i usually don’t write toxic relationships but it made sense this time around

summary ─ their reaction to their partner being a fatui harbinger - including diluc, zhongli, xiao, kazuha, wriothesley ─ reaction, headcanon ─ vision and delusion wielder reader ─ use of unconventional weapons ─ gn reader (with small hiccups in editing)

disclaimer ─ this is a reaction headcanon, with strong mentions of death, injuries, blood and violence and profanities. some of the fics do not have happy endings and the reader is depicted as a villain, unreliable and is not meant to be liked. some of the imagines can be brutal, caution is adviced.

wriothesley

You and the fortress’ warden had met trough simple ways, much like he meets any other person that arrives there. As an inmate.

You arrived early one morning, dried blood still on your cheeks and clothes, with a dead stare in your eyes, one he knew far too well. Your presence alone prompted rumours over rumours, inmates fighting to get a glance as the guards paraded you trough the halls on your journey to your cell, and the shouts coaxed Wriothesley out of his study with a sleep-drunk expression on his face.

“Serial killer.” The guards explained quickly when he got close enough to see what the attraction was. “The Chief Justice didn’t even wish to have a trial. Sentenced to life the second he saw them.” But no one knew any more information to help him out, and while he rarely searched for reason in the Fortress of Meropide, he itched for answers.

He watched you carefully that day, as you were guided forward by the most skilled guards, with chains on your hands and head pushed down, as if your gaze alone would be deadly. You were barely any taller than half of him, standing on week knees that trembled with every step you took, and if it wasn’t for your dead eyes or the blood all over you, he would have wondered if you were really capable of harm.

No one wanted to talk more about the situation behind your imprisonment, at least not for long. They all gritted their teeth and shook their heads when he asked, like even thinking about you would be a death sentence to them, and when he summoned for all records of your actions, he found only a bunch of redacted documents. All he could gather, trough bits and pieces, is that your presence here needed to be kept under wraps for a reason or another, and the scene the police stumbled upon your arrest.

“It was a bloodbath, your grace.” Clorinde told him once as she came to him for an errand from the Iudex. She seemed off, even her emotionless eyes were filled with some degree of fear in them. “I’m no stranger to death but this,” She cleared her throat and chose to cut their chat short, settling on a warning. Something smelled fishy, he would conclude, but this was not his first rodeo with difficult cases, and yours didn’t take long to crack.

“Keep an eye on them.” And he did, but perhaps not in a way she would approve of. Wriothesley found himself colliding with you every single step he took outside of his study then on, and never under intentional circumstances.

The first time it happened, you were simply eating at the canteen when chaos broke loose. He had barely exited his office, just in time to see one of the inmates throw his plate at you in challenge. “You filthy rat! How dare you-” The warden watched bewildered as guards jumped from their place, taking the man away and you simply sat there, like nothing happened. Food dripped down your clothes and face, but you simply brought your spoon to your mouth and ate quietly without complaining. All the while dark and hostile eyes watched you from every corner of the hall, and your own where chaining Wriothesley’s feet to the ground he stood on with something akin fear.

The second time you met was in the infirmary. Sigewinne had your bloody knuckles in her tiny hands with bandages cradled in her lap and alcohol stained cotton agains your open cuts. The first thing Wriothesley noticed then was the bruised corner of your lips, your bleeding nose and the open cuts on your cheeks. His heart stopped beating for a second, a disbelieving puff leaving his nose. You were so much trouble already, just by your existence in his prison, and now you were causing problems yourself?

His nurse, however, had pity in her eyes. She tutted. “I can’t stand having to bandage you up every single day. They keep trying to snuff them up, your grace! This poor soul.” She protested, and that was the first time he ever heard your voice. “It’s quite alright, miss.” Your face stayed cold, but there was kindness in your eyes, and your voice was far softer than he thought it’d be. And he couldn’t help but sit with the two of you, pushing Sigewinne’s buttons until he had every single name of the ones that tried to “snuff” you out.

It was much later that he found out what had happened exactly, and why people were so, so hostile towards you. After a couple of weeks of sitting with you and Sigewinne in the infirmary, he couldn’t handle the stress any longer.

Wriothesley had you sitting in his office with a calming rose tea settled on the table in front. The sweet smell made your shoulders ease and you begun wondering if he would have really done so much for you if you were called in for some troubles you caused. His soft eyes, however, reassured you, and you took the delicate mug to your lips. Wriothesley didn’t say much afterwards. He simply called you in the morning and had you sit with him, giving you a book to read or a pile of paper to sort trough, and never talked to you a word more. He was protecting you, you realised. From the other prisoners, who were still hungry for blood, even as you left your chamber straight thing in the morning and returned late night.

Little did the ice duke know, it was the inmates he was doing a favour to.

With each day passing, more and more eyes stared you down. More and more rumours surfaced. More and more and more and more and you were suffocating upon their vicious presences, fingers itching for something you could not allow yourself to give into.

“Do you have a family out there?” The warden asked all of a sudden one day. You snapped from your trance, a soft “huh?” Getting past your lips. “Do you have a family on the surface? I don’t know, a lover? Parents? Someone?” Your fingers tightened on the book you were skimming and gave him a weak nod after weighting your words. “I have a red fox with a clipped tail. He usually bares his teeth when he sees me, or any other pet around my home. And a Black Widow,” Wriothesley gave you an unsure stare, and his curiosity coaxed you to speak again. “That counts as family, does it not?”

Question over question followed the days following. Favourite place in Fontaine? Favourite book? At first it was trivial questions, easy for you to mumble one worded answers, until they were not, and you found you didn’t wish to speak one word at a time any longer. His presence became comforting, and after work, you’d come straight to his office to share the latest idea you thought of. He would sit down and listen, laugh and smile to you, and for once, you didn’t feel the weight of your duty crush your shoulders any longer. So how could you not crack when his fingers reached for a loose strand of your hair and how could he not let his ice-cold palm rest against your burning skin.

“What happened to you?” He asked softly. “How did you get here?” And how could you not indulge him.

Pulling away, you sat in the couch next to him, and he placed his coat over your shoulders as you brought a freshly brewed tea cup in your lap. “I was part of a sick joke.” You muttered trough gritted teeth and tightly pressed lips. To your surprise, he didn’t notice the way your reflection did the complete opposite in the shaky tea surface, smiling like an expecting devil. So you told him pretty lies, weaved together by a fraying string of truth. You couldn’t tell him that you killed a whole ballroom of nobles at the command of a frigid queen, so you told him you were part of the goods they were betting on. You couldn’t tell him that you were doing it for your own selfish reasons, especially as you watched your siblings bleed to death, so you told him you snapped in anger when an old man called you his personal toy. Lies and lies until his eyes were wide in horror and hands trembling on anger. You forced tears to run down your cheeks, and abstained from smiling when he brought you in a shaky hug. You had him under your fingertips, and the praise you’d receive when returning home with his head on a pedestal made your toes curl.

But something changed. You never felt guilty for lying and twisting people to your own pleasures but somehow, when you looked into Wriothesley’s eyes and he watched back with such a sweet stare, your knees would shake with shame. He lived trough this, you realised in horror. He lived your story once before, and your shame would deepen the more he opened up to you. Each moment when his longing kisses would caress your cheeks, a piece of you lost itself into a puddle of unfamiliar guilt.

You knew the little love you built on a foundation of lies would crumble soon. You had a bargain with a certain mistress, and her patience was thinning as seconds passed.

Then that day came, not that long after the chaos wrecked by a certain red fox with a clipped tail and three little rascals you had no name for. He told you specifically not to come to his chambers at that time. He had a guest, someone dangerous, and he wished to keep you away from their grasps. Little did you know, her presence was there for none other than yourself. You ran out of time, and now you had no way of ever coming clean to him.

The room around him felt suffocating, as though it was closing in and getting smaller and smaller until he couldn’t handle the claustrophobic sensation anymore. Wriothesley tugged at his tie, clearing his throat with an awkward pang in his voice. He sat at his desk, a place he usually associated with comfort. Under any usual circumstances, it would be comforting, really. A mellow feeling would settle in his chest at the though of afternoon tea with a plume in his hands, paperwork in piles at his desk. He couldn’t help it, the routine comforted him more than anything, almost more than your sweet voice did.

Across from him, with her hands on her crossed knees, was Father herself. She sat with her back straight, like a noble who grew with manners rooted into her very being. She knew something he didn’t, her very presence in his office proving as such, yet eyes reminded him of the status he would never have, of the scum his very being meant to her, and he couldn’t stand it. He sighed, trying to mirror her indifference and his nails dug crescent shapes into his palms, knuckles white against the seat’s armrests.

“I deeply apologise for the inconvenience my children have caused you.” Father finally spoke, feigning a deeply annoyed expression. Her fingers massaged the bridge of her nose, and she rolled her shoulders. Wriothesley wished to scoff, answer that “inconvenience” was a small word for the chaos that her “children” brought upon the poor warden, but he only nodded deeply. “But that is not all there is, is it?” He chimed in. She only nodded.

“As much as I quite enjoy idle chatting, there is a request I have to you.” How arrogant, he thought to himself. First they use his fortress as a hub for their shady plans, and now they want a favour. He had it in himself to refuse without even hearing her out, but his lips pressed against each other in curiosity.

“Is it about that ginger harbinger of yours?” At his words, her eyebrows raised, only for a second, and before he could take pride in her confusion, her face was back to the same unreadable expression. “No, not quite. I am not very interested in the business of my fellow harbingers, you see.” She let her elbow rest on her knee, and her chin in her palm. Her stare was unchanging. “Usually.” She added suddenly.

Unbeknownst to the warden, at the very same moment he was serving tea with his guest, you were being helped into thick furs and expensive silks by one of Arlecchino’s children. The cat girl remained quiet as she laced your corset and draped the fur coat around your shoulders. An uniform that grew unfamiliar to you with the months you’ve spent in cheap jail clothing.

“Then, if it’s not about the ginger, what are you here for, Father?” Wriothesley pressed harder, his annoyance beginning to reflect in the way he spoke. The woman smiled and nodded her head before she spoke again, a new fire burning in her eyes. “You see, I made a bargain with one of my colleagues. Naturally, when they failed to show up with their payment, I began to fret.” He listened, unsure of how her story tied to the fortress or him at all. The man puffed. “Imagine my surprise when I found out they’d been arrested and sent to the most guarded jail in all of Teyvat!” The Father’s hands flew, palms upwards as if she demanded answers from him, and he stilled at her words.

Your heels clicked agains the floor of the fortress, and you felt their eyes prickle at your back just like they did your first day here. Lynette and Lyney followed behind you with confidence in each of their step, like they lived for the attention, and you felt your body slip back into old habits as you walk straighter, taller, prouder.

Back in the office, Wriothesley pushed himself up from his desk and took cautious steps to the sofa, where you’d always seat with a pleasant smile on your lips. “And pray tell, who really is this colleague of yours?” Arlecchino only shrugged. “They should be joining us soon, really soon.” And the second her threatening words left her lips, the copper door to his chambers twisted.

No one spoke as a dangerous clicking of heels took to the stairs, followed by the much softer steps of the two children. When you reached the study, you were met with the sturdy back of your so called lover, and the bemused face of Father, who barked a laugh when you nodded your head her way. “You look pathetic. Like you haven’t seen sun in months.” The warden didn’t dare turn around, already feeling the edge of betrayal, a blade that danced around his neck right in this moment. But you refused to cower before someone like Arlecchino, ranked underneath you yet cocky enough to mock you.

“Because I have not.” You said dangerously, and the man between you two snapped his head back to look at you with wild eyes. He took you in with fury and disbelief in his gaze, watching how your expensive clothes hugged your body and how the traditional Snezhnayan accessories fit you, like they were part of your very existence. He couldn’t take his eyes off you, even as Arlecchino threw you a jewel he refuse to acknowledge the very existence of. Wriothesley searched for your eyes, hoping for you to half turn around and act as though you had no idea what was happening, but you stood tall and braved his gaze back. As though you never shared any kisses, any nights or any ‘I love you’s with him.

You carefully pinned the cryo delusion next to the dendro vision on your coat’s collar, and it fell in place as though it was always meant to stay there, like a piece of the puzzle that was you had finally snapped into place, and he saw the truth he knew crumble before his own grasps. “Let me properly introduce myself, then.” You spoke to your lover. “My name is [Y/n], the Third Harbinger under her majesty, the Tsaritsa. I would say it has been a pleasure to stay in the Fortress of Meropide, but I’m afraid I would lie.”

To say he was betrayed was an understatement. Wriothesley would hate you before you even told him the whole truth, and he would wait for no answers before trying to take you down himself.

He would fail, of course, and once his face would meet the cold floor, he would break with silent tears. In the same time, the poison you slipped in his goblet the day before would begin to kick in. It was not enough to kill him, you assured, just enough to make him sleepy. It would keep him obedient for the travels, after all, he was your newest pet. Before he could make out what your words even meant, his eyes would close and he would find himself in a deep slumber.

Arlecchino took payment in favours, you learned, drawing patterns between her previous bargains and the one she would strike with you that day in the Duke’s study. But you couldn’t complain, not even when she left you to deal with a prison full of violent inmates. “Don’t kill them all.” She called while taking her children and leaving you alone in the study.

When Wriothesley opened up his eyes, he was no longer in his chambers, but under thick layers of fur, and when his eyes gazed upon the window next to the bed he laid in, in horror, he realised he was no longer in Fontaine either.

It would take you a long time to convince him to even listen to your explanation, but he never attempted to leave your side when he followed you from Snezhnaya to Fontaine and back. Not even when he simply refused to speak to you all together. The Tsaritsa would laugh with a full chest at how foolish his love for you was, and you couldn’t help but agree.

But he stayed. No matter how mad, he stayed by your side. And when you’d come back drained in blood and death, he would simply take your fur mantle off and kiss your skin as he’d rid you of your guilt.

In the end, he’d never really trust you again like before, but you were willing to sit by his side and learn to love him truly, safe to say more than an owner would love a guard dog, while he would learn to trust you again. He’d forgive you, but never forget the betrayal.

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sparklyfaerie · 1 month ago

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This may be a bit of a hot take, and I accept that I may be in the minority here—but the more I think about it, the less I like the in-universe implications of Buffy deciding to awaken all the potentials as slayers at the end of the series.

I want to preface this by saying that I absolutely understand what the writers were going for, and in terms of a metaphor for female empowerment, it totally works.

But you kinda… have to consider what the practical repercussions of this decision are in-universe.

Buffy was a child soldier. One of a long line of child soldiers, in fact, who all lead short, bloody, violent lives. Lives cut off from everything that makes life worth living (friends, family, hobbies, interests, passions) and, as such, ended up in positions where they had no will to live. These children were disposable to the men in power, who viewed them as nothing more than tools to wage their war at best, and cannon fodder at worst.

Buffy’s initial conflict is that she wants a normal life. She actively attempts to pursue one, going against every established convention of the Slayer role; she has family, she goes to school, she has friends, she tries out for the cheerleading squad, she dates. But she is never truly free; her responsibilities as the Slayer often intrude into and completely derail her attempts at normality, until she finally throws in the towel and admits defeat.

But she clings to that illusion of normalcy until Season 5. That’s what Riley really was—her attempts at normalcy giving one last, dying gasp. Maybe she really loved him, maybe she didn’t; she never says (on her own show; I refuse to accept what she says in AtS, because AtS treats her very poorly) and so we the audience can’t say for certain. But once he leaves her, she loses that illusion of normality to the supernatural yet again. She embraces her Slayerness—and where does that lead her?

To her death. Again.

Both times Buffy accepted, even for a moment, her role as The Slayer, she died. It’s her job to give her life so that others may live, blissfully unaware of the war being fought under their feet and on their streets at night. So, she gives her life for Dawn’s, fulfilling her duty as The Slayer.

Except that her friends—the same ones that enabled her to live as long as she did—can’t handle her responsibilities, so they bring her back. Oh, sure, they dress it up like they’re helping her; they genuinely believe that she’s trapped in a hell dimension (why, though? Her body was right there!) and that they’re rescuing her.

But they’re not. It just creates more problems for her down the line. And she’s thrown back into a life she never wanted, with responsibilities that crush her. And this is on top of all the mundane concerns that everyday people have to live with, as well—bills, guardianship of a minor, having to find a job, etc. Even her antagonists for most of the season are nothing but three misogynistic jerks. She can have all the responsibilities and pitfalls of a mundane life, but none of its joys.

And in Season 7, she’s given more responsibility by Giles. The one who first wanted her to conform completely to the slayer template—secretive, obedient, a silent weapon in the Council’s war on the supernatural. Sure, he’s come to accept that she’s… unconventional, over time. He even cares for her. But she is, ultimately, The Slayer, and as long as she is alive, she is fighting this war whether she wants to or not.

They present it like Buffy is giving the girls a choice when she makes the decision to awaken all the potentials—and she sort of is… for the ones in the house at that moment. These little girls who have already been drafted before their time, who have already watched friends and family-figures die before their eyes. If you’re already in the war, of course you’re going to accept the power to fight it.

But what about the others? The ones all over the world who have no idea what they are or what this sudden influx of strength means?

We see one instance of where this can go wrong in AtS Season 5, with Dana. She is actively a danger to herself and others. Statistically speaking, she is highly unlikely to be the only new slayer who is psychologically unwell. How many Danas are out in the world, hurting people because they’re in the grips of mental illness and don’t know their own strength?

Or how many out there are like Faith, who come from abusive backgrounds and decide that this strength is to do whatever the heck they want with? How many are traumatised and violent? How many will refuse to take orders from whatever new governing body that Buffy and the scoobies establish?

We all saw how Faith spiralled out of control because of the lack of support she was shown. Imagine dozens of her, all at once, deciding that they can do whatever the heck they want, now that they’re strong.

How many girls, following the new instinct to hunt the supernatural threat, will get themselves killed before the scoobies find them? How many more children will die in this War on Evil? Even if they’re found, and trained, it’s still condemning them to short, violent lives. It’s only a matter of time, after all, before something gets a lucky shot in and a slayer is killed.

Buffy was a child, drafted into a war she never knew existed and didn’t want to participate in. And now she’s decided to do the same for every other potential slayer in the world.

#btvs #buffy summers #btvs season 7 #the slayer #watcher's council #potentially hot take?

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greenleaf4stuff · 6 months ago

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Of Convenience

(Adar x Celebrimbor, some hinted Annatar/Celebrimbor in the background. Celebrimbor is in Adar's camp but the uruk have not started attacking Eregion yet - he discovered Anntar's deception early and got out of the city. And straight into Adar's arms, er, camp.)

Welp, got inspired by my own "marriage of convenience/political marriage" idea and silverscars edit and wrote a short snippet. Enjoy everyone!

“Give me your city,” Adar proposed – or rather, demanded. Celebrimbor felt himself freeze up at the other’s intent gaze. “Surrender it. Put your city into my hands, and I will spare your subjects.”

Celebrimbor swallowed. He felt as if he was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Every minute he hesitated, the orcs were readying their weapons and advancing on his beloved Ost-In-Edhil, bringing with them the promise of death and destruction.

And on the other hand, there was he, and the danger he posed to everything the smith loved and held dear.

But he couldn’t just lay the keys to the city at Adar’s feet, could he?

“What guarantee do I have?” Celebrimbor replied, refusing to be cowed. “That you will not just take my surrender and do with it as you please?”

Adar stepped closer towards him – the smith tried to hold himself up straight, shoulders squared back, the very picture of the lord of Eregion, but he knew his own worry and desperation must show on his face clear as day.

He swallowed as Adar came to a stop directly in front of him.

“I have a proposition,” the orc stated, as if that were an answer to Celebrimbor’s question. The smith was about to ask what one had to do with the other, but Adar continued to speak and almost made Celebrimbor choke on his own spit. “A marriage.”

The smith blinked in disbelief. He must have misheard that. “What?”

“I propose a marriage – purely political, of course,” the orc stated, and began to round Celebrimbor, like a hunter circling its prey. “It’s an unconventional but sound solution – it would guarantee both our safety, and that of our people. A foundation for a peace, if we are lucky enough.”

Celebrimbor felt blood rush in his ears and he desperately wanted to grab something to steady himself. His day had gotten progressively more strange and distressing, and the marriage proposal he’d just heard was just the cherry on top of everything; of having discovered the enemy he’d invited into his own city, fleeing it, and then landing himself in the midst of an approaching army that was set on a path of destruction.

Destruction of a mutual enemy, but at the expense of all that Celebrimbor had ever built and worked towards.

“You cannot be serious,” Celebrimbor tried to declare. To his own ears, it came out as a question instead.

“Is the thought really so absurd?” Adar asked. He had now circled behind Celebrimbor’s back, which caused the smith to shiver and look over his shoulder cautiously. The orc soon stepped into his line of sight again. He seemed more curious than intimidating, despite how he stalked around the smith. “Think it through to the end. You will find there is nothing better I can offer as reassurance. Nothing that you would believe to be true, anyways.”

The smith sucked in a breath and just about kept himself from wringing his hands. He really just wanted to be petulant, to scream and angrily throw Adar’s offer back in his face, but-

But he had to think of his people. Who were in danger from not one, but two threats at the moment. If he could take care of one for certain, and use that chance to eliminate the other as well…

There was a long sigh, and the smith visibly deflated. He hated to admit it, but the other was right. They had few options, especially since there was scarcely any trust between them.

Sure, Adar had been treating him rather well as of now, all things considered – he’d told the orcs to handle the elf with care, had given him food and water, had not even chained the smith (though that could be because he didn’t consider Celebrimbor a serious threat, the smith thought bitterly).

The...foundation was there. And the reasoning.

As if he’d heard his thoughts, Adar stepped closer to Celebrimbor. This time, his look was not one of a hunter, but one of sincerity. “I promise you, I’d not make any demands of you safe for upholding the marriage and the peace. I would not separate you from your people, I will not demand rulership over your city, and-” and he paused for additional emphasis at that point. “I will not ever force you into anything but civil, honest conversation with me.”

It was clear what he meant. It was a...strange thought. Celebrimbor had not even considered it but- well. He had to admit that aside from the company he kept, Adar was...almost beautiful. Despite the pale skin and the scars and the darkness he lived in, he cut a striking figure.

Where before, the thought had not even crossed his mind, he now found his belly quivering with it. Not in a fearful way, but instead with...intrigue?

He mentally shook himself. Gil-Galad was right, he did have terrible taste in what – who – he found desirable. (He did not think of the fiend that was hiding in his forge. He would not. He’d been tricked, deliberately tempted. It was hard to remind himself of that, but it was true.)

The smith exhaled a shaky breath. He should probably demand more time to think on this, but time was something he did not have – ironic that as an elf, he was running out of time now, he thought sardonically.

Instead, he rose up to his full height again, and faced Adar with a steady gaze. With a small start, he realized he was actually taller than the orc. (‚Uruk‘, the other had called himself, hadn’t he?)

“Promise me you will do everything in your power to protect my people. I do not care what happens to me, it is my fault this-” he stopped himself and felt his face pull into a grimace, but he pushed on. “As the lord of Eregion, I will take responsibility. Promise me you will help me fulfill my responsibility to my people, and I will...I will give myself to you. And my city into your hands, until it is freed.”

The look in Adar’s eyes was intense, as if he was trying to find any hidden loophole, any flaw, any lie in Celebrimbor’s words. After a moment that felt near suffocating, the other nodded.

“Very well. I will find someone to officiate,” he said, and made to turn to the entrance of his tent, undoubtably to give his men orders. He paused, however, and looked back at Celebrimbor.

The look in his eyes was softer than the smith had expected. “And I accept your demands. The city will be yours again, once I have rid it of our foe.”

A pause. “And while you would give yourself and your life away with no regards to your own safety, I will not demand you to do so. I will not touch you or mistreat you – you have my word.” And with that, the orc went outside as he gave orders while leaving Celebrimbor alone, his head spinning.

Why was this so important for the other?

Why did it put Celebrimbor at such ease?

And though Celebrimbor barely dared to even acknowledge it – why did the thought of Adar touching him not fill him with fear, but curiosity, instead?

#this is a treat for myself as well I had a bit of a rough day yesterday #(Gil-Galad: You got that all wrong Celebrimbor. I am not questioning your partner choices. I am questioning your life choices in general.)#of convenience #adar #adar trop #adar the rings of power #celebrimbor #adar x celebrimbor #silverscars #trop #the rings of power #marriage of convenience trope #political marriage trope #fanfic #my fanfic #my trop fanfic #mine

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starrydreamerluna · 5 days ago

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I never thought I'd write the sentence "gwi-ma is a sentient oven"

And mean that he is, infact, an oven who has gained cursed sentience and steals the souls of cookies.

Also:

any flavour ideas for the saja boys? I'm thinking if gwi-ma is a beast/calamity who steals souls and makes changes to their dough and flavour to suit his needs that they're all different soda flavours and their original flavours have been forgotten

jinu and abby are going to be from the icing ridge but pre cacao era, to a point I'm considering when the beasts fell- having abby be a part of spices army and jinu loosing his mother and sister to mystic flour.

The honmoon is linked to the health of the silver tree but doesn't rely on it, same with the pancake tower- the seals are separate but strengthen eachother so when one goes the other two technically weaken despite being functional.

Gwi-ma is defo more a calamity than a beast.

Huntr/x were also semi aware of the honmoon before they discovered it in their own ways.

Mira/Sour Lace could feel it's vibrations in her vicinity- used to piss her off bc she always found trouble following it and therefore got into trouble.

Rumi/YumYum's markings react to changes, she could literally see it in her stripes and behind her eyelids (which sucks bc she can't see where she's going)

Zoey/PickNMix can hear it constantly- it was a huge detriment until she made her headphones and controlled the music she could hear.

(Also I said zoey is a magic cookie- she still is I'm just making it clear her preferred means of manifesting her spells once she casts them is as her shin-kal, so she comes up with her spell and the projectile to throw and use it is her dagger.)

The honmoon does provide their weapons/magic still.

And bc zoey is clearly my fav:

PickNMix cookie is like a reverse prune juice. No one expected her to have magic(which sucked bc her life would have been so much easier if they had realised a little sooner it was her magic that was causing her problems....) but here she is. she and prune juice were roomies! She convinced him to be a little more unconventional with his practice- and is why she believes stuff like the tonic scam, bc she's seen prune make stuff like that.

#kpop demon hunters #kpdh #k pop demon hunters #huntrix #kpdh rumi #kpop demon hunters zoey #zoey kpop demon hunters #kpdh mira #kpdh zoey #rumi #cookie run kingdom #cookie run #crk #cookie run au #crk au

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brucewaynehater101 · 9 months ago

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WHUMPTOBER 2024: PROMPT #7

Only for emergencies, unconventional weapon, magic with a cost, "It's us or them"

Brief synopsis: Tim has a plan that Bruce can't find out about

Bruce would rather die than kill. It's his ironclad belief and a boundary he seemingly will never cross.

This is why he and Jason scream themselves hoarse or pummel each other on Gotham's rooftops. The younger man claims this is why so many of the Bats have died. Bruce's unwillingness to accept murder by his own hands or those of his children is ultimately their downfall.

This is one of the several reasons why Tim has contingencies Bruce is unaware of. That, and the man's consistent effort to shape Tim’s paranoia even against their family.

During a month-long JL space mission where Batman's presence is necessary, the other Bats stay behind to cover Gotham. Their relationships to each other and Bruce are wobbly, but at a higher point. They even have the occasional hangout and casual interactions.

Tim will initiate individual or small group gatherings, but he's never tried to jam all of the batkids into one room together. Not before this, anyhow.

Due to this reason as well as their current friendliness with each other, all of them agree to meet at Tim's Nest. He prepared a meeting table, chairs, snacks, pizza, drinks, and a projector in his version of the batcave.

He spends three hours lecturing them on several plans that Bruce is never to hear about. He starts off soft with stuff like safehouses, vehicles, and weapons Bruce doesn't know about. He then goes into truth serums, media strategies, and extreme force measures.

He ends the meeting with the one procedure he was nervous about.

“I could have kept this from you. In fact, you should be aware that I have contingencies some or none of you are aware of. Plans I hope to never initiate.”

He sighs as his eyes flicker back to the slide. “This would be the absolute worst case scenario with no other options. I would expect each of us to exhaust all methods before we try this.”

He glances at each of the batkids despondently. “I don’t care if you'd rather sacrifice yourselves. I can't lose you. I won't. Not again.” His eyes linger on Dick, Steph, Cass, Jason, and Damian specifically, but he tries to nonverbally communicate his unwillingness to lose Duke or Barbara either.

The others may not agree or be happy with the plan, but they allow Tim to have it. They accept their role in it as well. Given their work, all they can do is hope the need never arises.

~~~

Of course, the time occurs like they all feared it would.

Their father, Bruce Wayne, stares at his kids with open fear. He can't see a way out of this and he's already envisioning his children dead and dying. The World's Greatest Detective can't find a way out of this.

He would willingly sacrifice his life for his kids, but even that is not an option. His death would afford them mere minutes.

He’s watched all of his children, officially or not, throw themselves at the issue again and again. Each came up with more erratic and desperate plans. All of the plans failed or wouldn't work.

He also notices when each member finally gives up, as they, one by one, turn to Tim. Red frantically shakes his head and types faster, eyes flying over multiple computer screens as he tries to find any other answer.

“Red Robin.”

The vigilante refuses to acknowledge Nightwing. There must be another way. He will not utilize that spell, the one that will obliterate thousands of lives, unless he's absolutely sure there are no other avenues. They are running out of time, but surely there's another way.

“Tim-”

“No! I can find a way. I can!” He's not even looking at Dick as his eyes scour over the multiple computer screens. If he can just figure this out, he will soothe the dejected lines in Dick's face as well.

A hand settles on Tim's shoulder. “We're going to die.”

Finally, Red’s hands pause. He's frozen as the weight of the words and their hidden meaning cause his shoulders to slump in defeat. “Fuck.”

The others in the room refuse to make eye contact as they come to terms with their decision. Bruce's eyes dart between his kids with a puzzled frown. He's analyzing the situation but doesn't have all of the clues.

With the grave expressions on all of his children's faces, he is not expecting Red Robin to pull a pink rubber duck from his belt. Tim approaches Bruce with pressed lips and a guilty gleam to his eyes.

“This will help us stop the invasion.”

Although Batman doesn't move an inch, Tim nods at the man's incredulity.

“It's completely harmless to humans but lethal to their species.”

And now Bruce understands the guilty and hesitant stances around him. Batman can not and will not approve of murder, even to save the ones he loves.

Considering that all of the other Gotham vigilantes have deemed this the only road, Bruce will need to find a non-lethal option by his lonesome. He will need to secure the weapon and fight his way out.

Batman quickly performs a nerve strike on Tim's arm and swoops up the tiny pink duck. Only once it's in his grasp does he realize his mistake.

No one moved to stop him.

Batman's lens covered eyes glare into Red Robin's.

Red's stare bears down on him as Batman's knees give out.

“I'm sorry, Bruce. If I have to choose between the ones I love and an enemy, I will always choose my family. No matter the cost. I don't expect you to forgive me.”

As the sedative drags him under, Bruce falls asleep knowing his kids will be safe covered in the blood of their enemies.

#whumptober 2024 #no. 7 #unconventional weapon #“It's us or them”#only for emergencies #magic with a cost #tim drake #dc au

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velaris-fic-repository · 4 months ago

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Modern Things I Believe ACOTAR Characters Would Love

I selected some of these for comedic purposes but mostly based on vibes

Feyre

Sandbox/Color-by-number apps

Renaissance Festivals

Gracie Abrams

Themed makeup/face paint videos

Big cardigans

Texting using only emojis

Giving silly nicknames to all of her contacts

Floor Time™️

Sprayed/Stenciled edges on books

Websites where you can search recipes based on ingredients you already have

Six the Musical

Stuffed animals made to look like miniature versions of real animals

DIY channels

Paintball

Rhysand

Tumblr aesthetic moodboards

Black IKEA furniture

The Great Gatsby (both book and musical)

Aladdin

Throw blankets

Met Gala outfits

Owl City

Prank Wars

Daily Affirmations

Origami star jars

Fairy lights

Sheer shirts

The theatre kid aesthetic

Nesta

BOOKTOK

WITCHTOK

The PWHL (Favorite Team: The Minnesota Frost)

P!nk

The Traitors

Bath bombs

Fuzzy socks

GoodReads

Immersive audiobook + physical book reading

Fail compilations

Slasher movies

Complicated Starbucks orders

Self defense weapons disguised as other things

Elain

Baking blogs

Scrapbook journaling

Starkid musicals

The Owl House

Jean jacket + dress outfits

Water bottle stickers

The Arcadian Wild (their music is really good!)

Travel vlogs

Build-a-Bear

Shakespeare productions

Volunteer work

Petitions

Earth Day

Every Day’s A Holiday calendars

Mor

Reddit “Am I The Asshole” posts and videos

Hear Me Out Cakes

Arcane

Wearing converse with dresses

Charcuterie parties

Also Met Gala outfits

Prank parking citations

Mario Kart and other such party games

Cards Against Humanity

SNL

Having a phone case for every outfit

Glitter gel pens

Leather jackets in colors other than black

The rediscovery of Shakespearean insults

Amren

Cryptids/Urban Legends

Horror podcasts

Dark Academia literature

Uno

One Night Ultimate Werewolf

Friendship jewelry

Themed Study/Ambience music

Book tabs

Desk lamps

Battery operated candles

Dracula Daily

Whodunnits

Logic puzzles

Halloween decorations

Cassian

The Green/Red Flag Guy

The PWHL (Favorite Team: The Montreal Victoire)

Those dog daycare/adoption center videos where they list funny things about the animals

Sleeveless hooded gym shirts

Shirts that say things like, “I flexed so hard my sleeves ripped off”

The Olympics

Water bottles with the motivational checkpoints written on them

The Emperor’s New Groove

“Action Man? Who the hell is Action Man? Oh my god, no, it’s John Wick” and other such meme TikTok sounds

Marvel movies

Fluffy romance novels

Super Bowl Commericals

Chaotic cooking shows

Chappell Roan

Azriel

Cat videos of any kind

Unconventional pets like snakes and lizards

The PWHL (Favorite Team: The Boston Fleet)

LED light strips

Buzzfeed Unsolved

True Crime

Dubstep

Bluetooth headphones

Motorcycles and dirt bikes

Night driving

Batman comics and movies

Silent discos

Fake plants

“Stalking” people on social media

Lucien

Baldur’s Gate 3

Critical Role

DND in general

National parks

Travel mugs

Postcards

Poetry collections

Hot Chocolate mixes with the mini marshmallows

Saying things to women to ensure they aren’t afraid of him when passing them on a hike

Nature documentaries, especially ones with sarcastic narration

Scientific hubris as a trope

Cozy fantasy books

Book lights

PowerPoint nights

#acotar #acotar memes #feyre archeron #rhysand #nesta archeron #elain archeron #morrigan #morrigan acotar #amren #amren acotar #cassian #cassian acotar #azriel #azriel acotar #lucien vanserra

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cybershock24601 · 4 months ago

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I think on a fundamental level the thing that pisses Caterina off about Rook is that she can't find any real fault in them. And this to Caterina doesn't mean Rook's perfect, but that there's is a problem just one she can't see. And an invisible problem is a problem that can't be protected against.

Interesting take but I think I have to disagree with it, or at least in the case of my Rook. I feel like Caterina's biggest problem with Rook is that they have a lot of flaws but manage to survive and thrive despite them all. Rook is trusting and kind, is canonically kinda a fundamental fuck up, someone fundamentally not built for the shadowy game of cloak and dagger that makes up most of Crow politics, and yet Rook manages to land on her feet every time, not despite of her how unsuitable she is but often because of.

There's just something very interesting about extending the juxtaposition of Solas and Rook's approach to tackling problems to Caterina and Rook's post canon relationship. Rook's kindness and willingness to work with others and not treat them like pawns is why Rook is able to succeed where Solas fails, and it would be fun to play with those themes again through the lens of a non Crow Rook doing a very good job as the partner of the First Talon by being and doing pretty much everything different than a Crow would or should. There are probably plenty of other Crows and Talons that see Rook as weak or an easy target but Rook being able to survive despite and often because of her unconventional approach to things presents a really interesting dilemma to Caterina who has done everything in her power to prepare her grandsons to the Crow's cutthroat approach to politics.

Rook's ability to thrive despite being antithetical to everything Caterina believes is necessary to survive throws everything that Caterina has ever done to her family, especially in how she raised Lucanis and Illario into question. It contradicts everything about Caterina's worldview in a way that I think Caterina would refuse to confront and so settles on despising Rook.

I also think what infuriates Caterina is that it's Lucanis that sees Rook as perfect. That Lucanis trusts Rook despite every lesson Caterina has tried to instill in him and has made herself into such a weakspot for Lucanis that he would never recover if he lost her. Rook has ruined her perfect grandson in so many ways that I don't think Caterina would ever be able to forgive or get over it. Caterina turned Lucanis into the perfect Crow but Rook lets him be more than the flawless weapon Caterina worked so hard to hone him into and Caterina fears that Lucanis will not survive as First Talon with all the weakness Rook brings out in him.

In my headcanon, it's the first time Caterina gets shushed and shooed out of the room by Rook and Spite while Lucanis takes a nap in Rook's lap that Caterina decides that Rook is intolerable influence on Lucanis because Caterina worked hard to make sure that sure that Lucanis would always be ready to respond to any sort of threat at anytime, even when waking from a dead sleep but instead she's getting told by both Lucanis terrible significant other and his demon to leave him alone to let him rest. The boy Caterina raised would never have rested so easily when another was around, even herself, but Lucanis seemed absolutely blissful as he left his safety while unconscious in the hands of Rook and Spite.

#rookanis #rook #lucanis dellamorte #caterina dellamorte

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piplupfluffwritingstuff2 · 9 months ago

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Whumptober 2024 No. 7- Only For Emergencies | Unconventional Weapon

The fire spread rapidly across the city, the flames licking up buildings and engulfing everything in its path. City Park became a charred mess, its trees and bushes quickly reduced to ash. The one responsible, Supervillain, cackled from their place in the sky, letting more of the blaze erupt from their hands.

“If we don't stop them soon the whole city is gonna be gone,” Vigilante said.

The team had their hands full coordinating evacuation efforts while Superhero and Supervillain tussled in the air. Even some of the villains were helping out.

“There isn't going to be a city to come back to if they don't hurry it up,” Villain said bitterly.

“Superhero's got this,” Hero said, “they'll take care of it and-"

Superhero crashed to the ground, out cold. This elicited another laugh from Supervillain.

Hero looked around nervously. No one else had the power to match the pyromaniac's. Hero coughed up the smoke in their lungs and shakily reached up to remove their pendant. The few times it had come off, the effects had been… well… they hadn't been pleasant. That didn't matter now, this was the ultimate emergency, and they needed all their power to handle it.

The power-suppressing pendant bounced on the ground, and Hero's hair turned white, their eyes taking on an icy hue. Their lips turned blue, and their fingertips became a tinged purple.

Hero scowled up at Supervillain. They unleashed a blast of icy wind and propelled themselves into the air.

“Oh ho, Elsa, you've been hiding something~” the master criminal said.

“And you're done here,” Hero growled, throwing a small beam of ice.

Well, it was supposed to be small. It actually came out as a powerful blast, knocking Supervillain out of the sky. Hero summoned all of their power, and a blizzard ripped out of them from every direction. Cold storm clouds swirled up above the city, and snow began to fall, dousing the flames and cooling everything down.

Hero landed on the ground and stumbled. Villain and Vigilante went to steady them.

“You crazy little ice cube,” Vigilante scolded.

“Did I do it?” Hero asked weakly.

“Yeah, yeah, you did.”

“Superhero? Are they-?”

“They're fine,” Villain said, “where’s your necklace thingy?”

Vigilante pulled the pendant out of their pocket and draped it around Hero's neck. Their hair and eyes returned to their normal color, and their skin became a more normal shade of pale.

“Cool. Cool cool cool…” Hero mumbled.

Their eyes rolled into the back of their head and fluttered shut. Nobody's shouting did anything to rouse them.

…

“…saved the entire city…”

Hero stirred in a warm cocoon.

“…Supervillain's in custody…won't be hurting any…again.”

Hero groaned, willing their eyes to open.

“…waking up…”

“Hero?”

Hero opened their eyes. Their team stared down at them, relieved smiles on their faces. Even Vigilante looked happy. Hero slowly sat up in a med bay bed.

“Superhero!” Hero said.

The crime-fighter approached them, their arm in a sling.

“Hey Hero,” they beamed, “you did it. The city is safe, and the fires are out.”

“What about Supervillain?” Hero asked.

“In custody, they won't be lighting so much as a match.”

Hero nodded.

“Gotta say, if I had known you had that kind of power I would've never so much as shoplifted,” Villain said.

Hero chuckled.

“Well, I try to keep it under wraps,” they admitted.

Outside, a light snow still fell. The city's people had come out to admire the sudden cold snap. Children played in the white powder while adults gathered outside the hero base in hopes of thanking Hero and the others for saving the day.

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#whumptober2024 #no. 7 #only for emergencies #unconventional weapon #original content #fic #fire #ice #hero x villain #heroes and villains #whump #writing #creative writing #writeblr #snippet #passing out

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xerith-42 · 2 years ago

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MCD Fighting Style breakdown

for @gonedreaminggg as a treat. I took your initial list, added a few ideas I came up with, had a breakdown, Bone apple teeth!

- Laurance: As seen in canon Laurance mainly uses a single large sword, though in his early appearances he uses a sword and a shield. I feel like Laurance has trained in multiple styles of combat to varying degrees. He's really good with a single sword of any size, and he can fight sword and shield. His dual wielding is lacking and he can tell every time he watches Dante fight. A lot of Laurance's movements are very basic forms of sword combat with slight variations and flare. Laurance is really light on his feet, so much so that when he really gets into a fight, it almost looks like he's gliding sometimes.

- Garroth: An absolute tank. Fuck what canon says here, Garroth has trained exclusively in fighting with a sword and shield. It is his bread and butter. His ass would not know what to do with a second sword, and nobody really tried to train him in anything else because he's so good at what he does. Garroth can and will always take the hits, he's a barbarian who manages to suppress the rage until he's forced to multiclass into paladin thanks to the relic. Always on the front lines, so good at throwing himself into danger, he wants to die a warriors death and go to Valhalla and both Aph and Laurance are like "Garroth please stop."

- Dante: Dual Wielding jack ass my beloved. Dual wielding isn't a super common style of combat just because it requires so much coordination and there's definitely a quantity over quality problem with guards in Ru'aun. Dante studies an unconventional style of fighting to stand out, and it works. He's super limber and flexible, at least when he's a teenager, and he's fast as fuck. Dante will absolutely be the one getting insane hit combos and doing like 8 attacks per round. He loves bragging about this so much, even though he has to slow down a little as he gets older and his body can't quite move the way it used to.

- Aphmau: Oh Aphmau... Can I call you Aph? You poor thing. In my brain Aph is partially trained by Garroth and Zenix in her early days, but she also just has some really good instincts from being Irene's reincarnation. She learns basic archery from Zenix, and a lot of basics in sword fighting from Garroth. She tends to prefer one lightweight weapon, though she does learn to get comfortable with larger weapons. She's shorter than a lot of her opponents so she likes having a lighter weapon that let's her move fast and go for the fucking knees. She does not fuck around in a fight, she will go straight for the kill. All the guards have some sort of honor/respect for their opponents. She doesn't. She will fucking kill you.

- Travis: Travis is the jack of all trades. You put a weapon in his hand and he knows how to use it. He's not particularly great with any one weapon, and he never has a preference. He was taught to always have his guard up and always be able to defend himself, so Travis is much more comfortable with being given a weapon and using it instead of having a preference. He carries a long sword with him everywhere he goes, but that's just in case he can't get his grubby little paws on something else. He also uses potions a lot more in battle than anyone else thinks to, so he's able to make up for any shortcomings in his fighting.

- Katelyn: Punch people at the perfect weak points of their body. Katelyn has done a lot of study into human anatomy and medicine, and she knows all the weak points of the body for taking someone out in a certain way. Want a quick knockout? There's a pressure point on the back of the neck she can hit while blindfolded. Want to make someone winded? Hit them in the solar plexus. Katelyn has honed her body for this style of fighting, she is ripped as fuck, and while she isn't the fastest fighter, mostly due to her still wearing armor, her strikes are powerful enough to make up for it.

- Lucinda: Evil!! She uses her witchcraft obviously, which I have a lot of thoughts about. I think it's basically being a prepared/component caster, so how well she does in a fight depends on what components she brings into it. But Lucinda literally has like three bags of holdings, she can always whip up something to kick your ass. And if she can't, her staff is definitely made out of some ancient tree and she'll just sweep people off their feet with it and then concuss them with the giant curved end of it. She prefers to take people down non-lethally if possible, especially because witchcraft is very susceptible to accidentally killing people, but if you hurt her friends, it's on sight,

- Zane: Despite his high position, Zane isn't particularly good with any large weapons. I always envision Zane to be somewhat lanky in his stature, and definitely the weakest out of his brothers. He doesn't want to be seen as a threat initially, and as shown in the series, he'd much prefer to find a non physically violent way to kill you. If he has to, he's always got knives hiding on his person, in his robe, in his belt, in his boots, man's always has a way to kill just in case.

- Nana: Magic in this universe is spontaneous casting, where most spells don't need active prep work, and fewer components. Like she needs her dolls as vessels and some magical energy that's naturally present in her body and she's good. I don't think Tu'la was always a safe place, and she likely learned to defend herself from a young age. But Nana isn't really good with conventional weapons like swords or bows, no, she knows how to dent your brain with a frying pan. She doesn't like being violent, but if you threaten her friends or family, she will absolutely demolish you with a cutting board.

- Vylad: The archer!! I like to think Vylad tried to spar with Garroth like once and hated it so much. He hates eye contact and getting close to people, so instead they learn how to be an absolute master of ranged combat. Vylad knows how to stab someone with a short sword in a desperate situation, but he'd much rather be perched on a tree above the battlefield and rain arrows from above. Vylad is also incredibly stealthy and faster than anyone else. So people see his perch and try to get there to take him down or have their own archers fire back, but he's already gone.

- Sasha: Sasha moves so gracefully, so fluidly, and almost enchantingly. For her fighting is a performance, she's gonna kill several people and she's gonna look good while doing it. Even when she was a trained guard she made herself stand out with an affinity for smaller curved blades that naturally assisted her fluid movements. She makes fights into an endurance test, cutting people up and whittling them down. But if she needs to kill, she knows how to do it in a single swipe and knows the weak points that guards are taught to protect, and the ones they aren't. She's such a menace :)

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