#you know the drill. I fancy assassins | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

panda-noosh · 3 years ago

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taste test {kaz brekker x reader}

there are guests today.

little information was given to you, but you don’t mind; you’re not here to entertain anyone. you’re here to do your job and move on. who the king associates with is honestly none of your concern.

you’ll leave the assassins to the royal guards.

you wake on the day to witness the palace in hysterics. chefs bustle around like headless chickens, maids and butlers ironing uniforms that have not had a crinkle in them since the war. the scent of food - a cacophany of it - rises to the surface, making you crinkle your nose at the onslaught of different options. all you want is a slice of toast to prepare you for the day, but the thought of walking into that kitchen has you cuddling up in bed for a few minutes longer.

you’ll have to eat that food pretty soon. just a small bite, just enough to get a taste. a hint.

you close your eyes.

the peace doesn’t last long, because it never does. a knock sounds at your door, startling you from your reverie. you roll over, not even bothering to cover yourself when you call out, “come in!”

a palace guard - rico - peaks his bald head round the door and raises a brow. “still sleeping?”

“clearly not.”

“good. you need to be up and at your post in thirty minutes; we have guests today.”

you pull the quilt over your head. “don’t remind me.” you peak an eye over the top, raising a brow. “who are the guests?”

rico narrows his eyes. “you haven’t been told?”

“well, no. i never really asked.”

“then i’ll leave it as a surprise.” he claps his hands, like you’re some kind of dog. “get ready. i don’t want to come back up here again.”

“then don’t,” you reply, but he’s already disappeared.

you drag yourself from bed to do as he ordered. there’s no point arguing with the palace guards - they seem to think they own the place, even though they live basically under the thumb of every other individual walking the grounds. even you, the lowest of the low, can manipulate them into doing what you want if you just try hard enough. a few sweet words and a confident tone, and they’re like putty in your hands.

but the truth is, you don’t care enough about todays events to put on that confident tone. you pull your clothes on, fiddle with your bow tie, and head downstairs to see what the day has in store for you.

breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

a risky day ahead.

you’re required to be at the kings side long before the guests arrive. you’ve never questioned it. the rules of the palace have never made any sense to you, but you go along with them, because you don’t want to get into any more trouble than you already have. that’s why you find yourself stood by the kings side in silence, hands clasped in front of you, trays of delicious breakfast foods being delivered by hasty, sweaty porters.

the dining room is swathed in beautiful decor. banners hang from the ceiling, red and gold colours matching the grand wallpaper all around. the fancy carpet has been rolled out, tucked beneath the long, mahogany dining table and stretching all the way to the double doors ready to greet the guests.

even the king is dressed well for the occasion, which is another surprise. though the king hardly looks like a peasant, he makes a point to put in as little effort with his appearance as possible, just to show people that he can get anyone to fear him from personality alone. his riches and fancy fabrics have nothing to do with his power.

but today he wears his finest silk coat, the buttons straining against his round stomach. his beard has been freshly trimmed, and you watch his hand rock back and forth amongst the hairs. a few stray ones float from his chin to the table, and you quickly swipe them away. the king doesn’t even notice; he continues staring at the doors, one dark skinned knuckle tight around the arms of his throne-like chair.

finally, after what feels like forever, the double doors up ahead are pushed open. two palace guards dressed in red hold them in place, and a man is ushered in.

a man you recognise immediately.

he’s got a cane now, which is different. there’s those gloves on his hands, the sides of his head still shaved, with that shaggy, dark mess still perched on top, a school boys haircut that looks most out of place on someone with blood on his hands. he’s frowning, because that’s what kaz brekker does - the king shows his power through his booming voice and cruel choices. kaz brekker shows his power through his expressions.

you don’t meet his eyes, though you don’t look away. kaz has his gaze on the king, not even noticing you standing at his side, and for that you are thankful; you don’t think you want to look into those blue eyes again. you promised yourself you wouldn’t, not before the nightmares disappear.

the king slowly stands. he rubs his beard one final time for good measure before saying, “you’re late, kaz.”

“call me mr brekker,” kaz replies, before gesturing to an empty seat at the end of the table - the seat farthest from the king. “shall we sit?”

you swallow; you’re familiar with this attitude from him, but you’ve been in the kings presence too long now to pretend kaz isn’t on thin ice.

the king, however, is clearly in a docile mood, as he nods and sits down. the food in the centre of the table goes unnoticed for a while as the two stare at each other, waiting for the other to crack and begin the conversation. you fiddle with your fingers, uncertain whether kaz has seen you, whether he recognises you, whether he’s just keeping a straight face because he’s kaz, and he’s a professional.

finally, the king clicks his fingers at you. “stack my plate. you know the drill.”

you burst into action, bustling round the table, scooping up different assortments of breakfast foods you know the king enjoys; he’s got his bacon, and his eggs, and the bread, pancakes on the side. you slather beans along the rim of his plate and place a single hash brown in the residue, just as he likes it.

and then you sit down, and pick apart the entire thing.

you can feel kaz’s eyes burning into you as you work, but you pay him no attention. you have to focus, because this is kind of a life or death situation. you sniff the food first, though this very rarely shows you anything you might need to worry about. it’s too fresh, still warm in your fingers when you lift it to your nose. you can smell only the warmth of it all, but you take the precaution anyway, just to show the king you know what you’re doing.

and then you nibble the edges, heart thumping with nerves rather than poison entering your body. that’s what you’re looking for - poison, an assassination attempt. even in his own palace, the king is paranoid. his own staff have turned against him before. you’re not entirely surprised.

you chew, swallow, pause, repeat.

“all clear.”

you hand the plate back, tuck your hands in your lap and look down at the table at kaz. he’s staring at you, an eyebrow raised, and you understand immediately that he recognises you, probably knew you worked here before he even entered the premise.

was he here for you?

you banish the thought and look away. you wait until the king has started digging in before excusing yourself and exiting, your job for the morning complete. at lunch, you will have to repeat the process, and again at dinner, but until then, you have the morning to yourself.

you walk through the gardens, because fresh air is all you need right now. your heart is hammering, and you curse yourself for it - kaz brekker has not been in your life for months. he shouldn’t have a grip on you. he shouldn’t even know you are here, and yet he does, because of course he does. kaz doesn’t step foot anywhere until he knows the ins-and-outs of the entire place. he keeps his ducks all in a neat row, and you were a fool to believe you had escaped it.

it’s not like kaz is a bad man. he’s evil, certainly, with horrible actions under his belt, but you can understand his reasoning. he kills a man, and maybe that’s an overexaggeration, but the man was also seconds away from traumatising a poor woman walking home from work. kaz takes a life, saving the day in the process. it’s how he works, how he’s always worked for as long as you’ve known him.

and you’ve known him for a while.

you haven’t been by his side in months, but someone like kaz brekker is someone you never forget. once you know kaz, you never stop knowing him, which is a curse more than anything else. oh, how you wish you could wipe the slate clean, pretend you never got involved with him and his gang in the first place. but that was your decision - your stupid, careless decision - and you need to face the consequences.

having him here, at your place of work, was a consequence.

you sit down by the stream just outside the palace grounds. a duckling struts past, paying you no attention whatsoever. a stray lilipad floats gently through the water, spurred on by the tiny breeze ketterdam has for you today.

you like to come here sometimes, just to clear your head a little bit. nobody else bothers with the nice scenery and the nature; they think it’s a waste of time. if it wasn’t for the gardener, this place would be a wasteland, left to shrivel and disappear into shadow. you’re thankful it’s been kept pleasant, though - it’s a good place for someone who wants to have no thoughts for a little while.

you lean down and run your fingertips along the water. it’s cold, and a weed gets tangled between your fingers. you lift it from the water with a wince, flicking your wrist to get it off-

a cane clamps down on your fingers, shoving your hand into the grass.

you inhale sharply, straightening up but not turning around.

“so easy to startle,” kaz hums. “you’re losing your touch, y/n.”

you twist your hand and catch the bottom of his cane, using it to pull yourself to your feet. kaz doesn’t stumble, but you never expected him to; kaz doesn’t stumble. he’s much too stubborn for that.

you whirl around, and there he is, that frown on his face, his head tilted like he’s analysing you even before you’ve said two words. a heat festers in your belly. you don’t know if you want to hug him or slam your fist into his nose.

“so this is where you ended up, is it?” he glances at the grand gardens, the glistening lake, the ducklings swimming past. “you’ve surprised me, i gotta say. i never thought you’d be into such grandeur.”

you fold your arms over your chest, cheeks heating up. you will admit, the palace is certainly not the place you thought to find yourself, either; after living in the barrel your entire life, you had grown used to dirt stained clothes, weeks without washing, hunger pains. this was different. this was a different type of hell, a hell in fancy clothes.

“cat got your tongue?” kaz continues, swinging that stupid cane back and forth. “shame. i think we have a lot to talk about.”

“why are you here?”

“ah, asking the right questions now!”

“just tell me, kaz. tell me, and then we can go our separate ways - just like you wanted.”

his expression falters for a moment, so quick that it’s clear he doesn’t want you noticing the power you still have over him, even just a little.

“fine,” he says. “let’s walk.”

you do just that, hands tucked into pockets, head tilted down. it’s easier to talk to him when you’re not subject to his facial expressions, too - handling both of them is too much.

“you want to know why i’m here,” he begins. “i’m here looking for you.”

your stomach drops, even though that was kind of what you were expecting.

he pauses, giving you a chance to fill in the silence with your own thoughts, but you don’t even look up.

he barrels on. “we had a tip-off from someone that you were working here now. no one else believed it, but me? i know you a little better than them. i was surprised, but i could picture it. you’ve always been irrational when you’re desperate.”

you wince. “you don’t know me at all, kaz.”

he smiled at the sky in response, like you had walked into his trap.

“i hope you didn’t come here thinking you can coax me back to the barrel,” you continue. “that’s not going to happen.”

his jaw clenches, head still tilted towards the sun. his skin is a little darker now, a little more tan. he’s probably been out and about, you think, causing havok in the sunshine, ruining people’s holidays because he can.

“i thought you would say that,” he says. “so i’m bringing the problem to you.”

you nearly stumble. “what?” freezing in the middle of the path, you grab his arm and whirl him around, forcing him to look at you. “what have you done, kaz? what problem?”

“she asked for you.”

“kaz-”

“inej is sick.”

your breath falters. those words, so simple, yet so . . . unexpected. inej ghafa - the wraith, your best friend, the girl designed to be indestructible. that’s why kaz picked her. that’s why she worked alongside you. that’s what made you the best damn crew in ketterdam.

“sick.”

kaz nods, shrugging his arm from your grip. “sick. ill. not well. poorly. whatever you want to call it. she’s not doing good, and the only person she’s asking for is you.”

“so where is she?” you whirl around. “is she here?”

“not walking alongside us, no.”

you scowl. “i mean at the palace, kaz. is she at the palace?”

“she will be.” kaz pulls a golden watch from his pocket. “in about three hours. that should give your employer plenty of time to set my room up and make some space in the hospital wing, don’t you think?”

you close your eyes, trying desperately to steady the thumping of your heart. he could be lying, and you know that, but what if he isn’t? what is inej really is on her death bed, and you never even got to say goodbye?

the thought terrifies you to the point your hands begin to tremble. when you open your eyes, kaz is staring at them, and you’re almost certain there is something close to pity sparking there.

you quickly snap your arms behind your back and nod. “fine. okay. i’ll see her. but once i’ve done what i can, you leave. both of you.”

kaz studies your face. the fire in your stomach burns even brighter, forcing you to look away and keep walking.

kaz follows, all soft footsteps. “i’m not here to bring up the past, y/n. i hope you know that.”

“you can understand why i find that hard to believe.”

“well, yes. but i’m serious. what we had, it means nothing now. you’re a different person, and so am i. we can let it go.”

you swallow the lump in your throat, trying to pretend those words are exactly what you wanted to hear. but a knot twists in your heart, almost to the point of pain.

you take a deep breath and glance at him over your shoulder. he’s only a few steps behind, but his presence is so large, so there that you nearly trip.

and then you say, “we never had anything, kaz. remember that.”

----

it’s like you’re trying to hurt each other.

that’s how it’s always been between you and kaz, but at one point, it felt natural. it was a bit of fun. a few snide remarks here and there, followed by kaz confessing he thinks your eyes are a very pretty colour. a bit of sparring, followed by you telling kaz he’s the most important person in your life.

this time, however, the mere sight of him is a torment, one you don’t find fun in the slightest.

the king tasks you with leading kaz through the palace. this was a job you fully expected to be given, but it doesn’t make it any easier. kaz stops to examine every little thing, tracing his fingers along artefacts you would be murdered for touching.

you swat his hand away when he reaches for a bust of the kings father. “stop it. if you knock that over, he’ll have you hanged.”

kaz raises a brow before touching a gloved fingertip to the stone. you groan and march off, trying to ignore the butterflies at the sound of his soft, hidden chuckle echoing behind you.

you show him his room, a beautifully decorated space much grander than any room the king has ever given you. kaz whistles when he walks in, looking at the wine bucket on his chest of drawers, and the freshly made bed with the thick linens, and a view to die for.

“spoiled,” he says.

you roll your eyes. “i’ll leave you to get comfortable.”

“or.” he whirls, catching your arm. his fingers slot in the crook of your elbow, the leather of his gloves sparking unwanted familiarity within you. “you can stay, and we can talk some more.”

“i have things to do, kaz.” you rip your arm from his grip. “the king will be having lunch soon, and i need to be there.”

kaz scoffs, slowly sliding the knot out of his tie and slipping it from beneath his collar, like undressing in front of you is no big deal. “so you can do what? potentially die? you know, y/n, i once thought you were a tough son of a bitch, but the longer i’m here, the more i’m realising just how weak you are.”

ouch.

“we’ve all got to make a living somehow,” you reply. “you murder people, i keep the king safe.”

“the same king you wanted to assassinate a few months ago?” he tilts his head, pursing his lips. “what a drastic change of heart.”

“go to hell, kaz.”

he raises a hand. “wait for me outside; i’ll come to lunch with you and your king.”

you pause. “has he invited you?”

“i don’t need an invite.”

“you’re not permitted to be there-”

“i’ll be there.” he starts unbuttoning his shirt. “i want to watch you in action. you’ve always been very good in action.” he smirks, and you know he’s just teasing you, trying to get a reaction. your cheeks heat up, but you quickly turn on your heel and scurry out before he can notice.

you don’t wait on him outside. instead, you hurry to the dining hall, where the king is already seated. he looks up when you enter, fingers already tangled in his beard. his wife sits beside him, grand and tall and everything a queen should be. she scowls when you enter, but you ignore her, immediately taking your seat by the king and fanning a napkin over your lap.

“sorry,” you say. “kaz brekker kept me.”

“it’s mr brekker,” the queen snaps. “have some respect for our guests.”

“y/n can call me kaz.”

you close your eyes, listening to the thump of his feet and cane against the carpet.

“y/n can call me kaz,” he repeats, lowering himself in the chair at the head of the table. “mr brekker is a little too formal for them.”

“mr brekker,” the queen exclaims, fanning her reddening face. “i wasn’t aware you would be joining us for lunch!”

you nearly roll your eyes at her flustered state - okay, so kaz is attractive. he’s also half her age.

kaz leans back in his seat, tapping his fingertips together. “oh, no, i’m not eating. i’m just here to observe.” at the confused silence, he shrugs. “i have nothing better to do, and i’ve always been fascinated with the hobbies y/n takes on. such a talented soul they are.”

you’ve never heard kaz speak so formal before, and you have half a mind to laugh. instead, you glance over to see his own lips trembling in his attempts to keep a straight face - he finds this just as amusing as you do. messing with the royals, it’s all a game to him. they are the fools.

“do you two know each other?” the king asks, handing you his stacked plate.

“no,” you snap. kaz grins behind his glove, staring at you over his fingers as you hasten to add, “no, we don’t. i just met him today.”

the king nods slowly, not quite sure whether to believe you or not. you don’t give him a chance to doubt any further before picking up your knife and fork and cutting a small chunk from a slice of tofu. you go through the usual routine with everything on his plate, but all the while, kaz stares. you feel his eyes like a fire sinking into the side of your face, putting you off from paying proper attention. you pop the cut-off’s in your mouth and chew, turning to meet his gaze, as if making eye contact with him is some kind of power move. however, he actually looks a bit. . . worried? concerned? you’ve never seen that expression on his face before, and it makes your stomach flip as you swallow the food.

you give a final nod, handing the plate back to the king. you repeat the process with the queen before standing, straightening your trousers and excusing yourself.

kaz’s chair screeches as he stands.

“mr brekker, would you not care for some lunch?” the queen asks.

“no.” he turns and follows you out the dining room, catching your arm when you try and run. “what the hell?”

you spin, snatching your arm away. “can you stop grabbing me?”

“what happens if their food actually has been poisoned?”

“then i get poisoned.”

he raises a brow, skin paling. “and do they have someone on hand for if that happens?”

“on hand to do what?”

“don’t play stupid, y/n. on hand to save your fucking life.”

you scowl; it’s been a long time since you’ve heard kaz curse, and it shames you to feel the same thrill run over you.

“i get sent to the infirmary,” you reply. “but it’s never happened before.”

“never happened-” he shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. “this is the kind of life you want to live? you left the barrel for this?”

“no life is as bad as the barrel.”

kaz’s lips tighten, eyes fluttering closed for the briefest moment before he opens them again and says, “you left the place where people loved you, cared about you, and you came here. to this shit hole. you’re risking your life for them, and you have the nerve to tell me this life isn’t as bad as the barrel?”

even to you it sounds ridiculous, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of knowing that.

“the barrel wasn’t a life,” you say. “the barrel was a beginning for me, but i’ve moved on.”

“you don’t move on from that.”

“maybe not mentally, but i can damn well get away physically.” you lean in, lowering your voice. “i just wish you’d let me.”

his eyes scan your face, drawing attention to just how close you are to him. his breath fans your cheeks. you can make out every line on his lips, every crease in his face. you could lean forward if you wanted to, close that distance.

you step back, once again straightening your trousers. “tell me when inej arrives and i’ll come meet her in the infirmary.”

kaz doesn’t say anything. he watches you leave, and part of you - a retched, traitorous part - is disappointed he doesn’t follow.

----

inej really is sick.

“so it’s true,” you say, sauntering into the infirmary. “the wraith has been beaten.”

you’re trying to jest, but there’s little humour to be felt when she looks like that. her dark skin is pale and sickly, warm drops of sweat clinging to her forehead and rolling down her neck. she’s dressed in only a thin night gown, revealing collar bones and stretched skin where her muscles once were.

she looks up, bloodshot eyes meeting your own, and even in sickness, she manages a smile when she sees you. that’s enough to have you breaking. you rush to her bedside and bundle her in your arms, nearly sobbing with relief at the feel of her pressed against you, her hands in your hair, her mouth inches from your ear.

she whispers, “it’s you.”

you pull away, nodding. “yes. it’s me.”

“what are you doing here?”

you pull a chair over and sit down. “that’s not important.”

“yes, it is.”

“i’ll explain later.” you lean forward, pushing a strand of hair away from her face. “you talk first; what’s going on?”

inej coughs into her elbow; something rattles in your throat, and you try desperately to hide your wince. “i just got sick. i fell in the brig a few days ago, and i don’t think the water was very healthy.”

“of course it wasn’t,” you grumble. “it’s the barrel, you stupid girl. what did you expect?”

“i cleaned myself pretty well afterwards,” she defends.

“clearly not well enough.” you place a hand to her cheek. “has anyone come to see you?”

“some man in a coat,” she replies, nuzzling down in the pillows. “he checked my temperature and my blood pressure and all that stuff. said he’d be back soon.”

“and he didn’t seem . . . concerned?”

inej shrugs. “i didn’t look him in the eye. men like him don’t sit right with me, y/n. i let him do his job, but i’m not looking at him. i’m not giving him ideas.”

you nod. there is a silence, but those are okay between you and inej.

finally, you reach over and take her hand. her palms are clammy, cold, but her grip is strong.

“i’m sorry i wasn’t there to help you.”

her head snaps around, eyes widening. “y/n-”

“i know you always say you understand why i left, but it’s just. . . i don’t know. i feel guilty about it. i feel selfish sometimes, and you’ve had to travel all the way here whilst you’re in this state all because i wasn’t there to-”

“has kaz been making you feel guilty?”

your mouth snaps closed. “i don’t. . . i don’t think so?”

inej sighs, head dropping back into the pillows. “don’t listen to him. i understand why you left; i always have. kaz just. . . i don’t think he ever got over it when you disappeared. it was like a part of him went with you.” she shrugs. “a part of him did go - you.”

silence again, because you have no idea how to respond to that. kaz was hurt when you left, and you know that, but he’s kaz. he’s tough. he’s been through everything a person should never have to go through. the thought of his final straw being you is almost laughable to think about.

“he loved you,” inej continues, even though you don’t want her to. “he really, really loved you.”

“past tense,” you whisper. “not any more.”

inej smiles sadly, and that’s all you need to see to understand you’re right - he’s moved on. he’s here with you now, but that means nothing in the grand scheme of things. he’s here on business. he doesn’t care about you, and he said it himself - whatever the two of you had is gone, non-existent. you thought you had come to terms with that, but seeing the confirmation on inej’s face makes you feel suddenly exhausted.

“well this isn’t about kaz and i,” you say, pulling your shoulders back. “come on. tell me what’s been going on since i left.”

---

you’re trying to sleep when you hear the bang.

trying being the key word. always. every night, you put your best efforts into drifting to sleep, but it never seems to work how you want it to. you toss and turn for hours on end, drifting in and out of your associative state, but not really falling asleep. time just passes, and then it’s day time, and you’re working again.

tonight is no different.

the bang is loud, just next door to your room. your ears immediately prick - the palace guards aren’t moving towards it. you’re already awake, so you may as well see to it yourself.

you swing your legs out of bed, grab your dressing gown and walk into the hallway. glancing back and forth, you see nothing out of the ordinary.

the bang sounds again.

you narrow your eyes, walking further down the hallway. turning a corner, the bang sounds one final time before a pair of shoes flies at the wall and crashes to the floor in a heap.

you rush forward, eyes wide. “what the-”

kaz spins, another pair of expensive shoes already in his hand. “oh. did i wake you?”

dazed, you snatch the shoes into your possession and toss them to the floor. “what the fuck are you doing, kaz? people are trying to sleep!”

“i was also trying to sleep,” kaz replies. “i am one of those people, so why are you yelling at me?”

you rub your eyes in frustration - sometimes talking to him is like pulling teeth.

“oh, come on,” kaz says. “i was just doing a bit of late night cleaning. this room is a fucking shit hole.”

you raise a brow, sighing. “what are you on about? this room was pristine when you came.”

“yeah, well, i thought so too. and then i found this.” he motions for you to enter the room, and though you know it’s a bad idea, you do so. he hooks his foot around something beneath his bed, and pulls out a box overflowing with expensive shoes.

you narrow your eyes. “what’s the problem?”

“rich men shoes,” he says, like that explains everything. after knowing kaz as deeply as you do, it kind of does make sense.

you sigh again, kicking the box back beneath the bed. “go to sleep, kaz.”

“i can’t.”

“try.”

“you know i can’t.”

you pause, overcome with a sudden chill. you wrap the dressing gown tighter around your body, trying to refrain from looking at him - he’s still dressed in the fancy clothes he wore this morning, but the top button is pulled loose, and his hair is a mess. his eyes droop a little, evidence that he really wants to sleep, but genuinely just can’t.

and you know why.

“i’m not asking you to stay with me,” he continues, grabbing a pair of socks from the floor. “i’m just saying - you have no right telling me to sleep when you know what it’s like.”

“are they bad again?”

kaz purses his lips. “they’ve been bad for a while.”

a while. that’s how he always phrases it. when he says it’s been a while, he means it’s been a while since you left the crows, left him.

you swallow, looking to the ceiling like the intricate design will give you clarity. “i can get you tea or something. a fresh blanket. whiskey.”

“trying to get me drunk?”

“kaz, i’m serious.” you meet his eyes. “you look terrible.”

he laughs, a sly sound that reeks more of danger than amusement. “thank you.”

“let me get you something.” you turn, but he catches your elbow. you glance back just as he drops his hand like your flesh has burned him, an uncharacteristic redness adorning his cheeks.

“didn’t mean to touch you,” he mumbles, scratching the back of his neck. “but i’m serious; i don’t need anything. it’s useless anyway.”

everything is useless. every remedy he’s ever been given has never worked. the only remedy for insomnia that has worked for kaz brekker is you.

but you can’t do that to him. you can’t do that to yourself.

“okay,” you mumble. “just. . . stop making so much noise, alright?”

“did i really wake you?”

“i couldn’t sleep either.”

you stare at each other. it’s like you’re waiting for the other to break. you hate that you kind of want him to break.

his adams apple bobs. “make yourself some tea, then. i’ll be a bit quieter.”

you nod. “thanks.”

“how’s inej, by the way? did you see her?”

“i did. she seems. . . okay.” you shrug. “the doctors are going to do everything they can to help her get back to normal. then you can go back to the barrel.”

kaz nods, though his movements are slower this time around, shoulders a little more slumped. neither of you say anything else as you walk out, tugging your dressing gown a little tighter around your body.

you don’t take his advice. you don’t need tea, or whiskey, or a fresh blanket; with kaz’s words and his expressions and him, you know there is no way you’re getting to sleep any time soon, no matter what remedy you use.

----

“good morning, royalty.”

the king looks up from his breakfast, the very breakfast you have just tested for poison. it sits weirdly in your stomach this morning; after a sleepless night, your appetite has deserted you, but you have no choice besides eating.

kaz strolls into the room, dressed in a suit. his white shirt sits against his chest, and his sleeves are rolled up to reveal the crow tattoo on his arm. you awkwardly rub your own crow tattoo, suddenly very aware of how permanent it is.

“good morning, mr brekker,” the king says. “again, you surprise me with your presence. we weren’t expecting you for breakfast.”

“i am just full of surprises.” he sits down in his usual seat and meets your eyes. “how are you this morning, y/n?”

“y/n was just about to leave,” the king replies, as you knew he would; he likes hearing your voice as little as possible.

kaz, however, keeps his eyes on you. “i asked y/n. not you.”

you stare straight at him, a silent warning. “i’m good, mr brekker. well-rested.”

“you can call me kaz.” he leans back, grinning. “i’m glad to hear it. maybe you and i can take a walk amongst the duck pond again later on.”

there he goes, putting on that god awful formal accent that he thinks is so funny.

you scowl. “i’m a bit busy today, mr brekker.”

“kaz.”

“he asked you to call him kaz, y/n,” the king snaps.

kaz nods. “i asked you to call me kaz, y/n.”

you bite your lip, pushing back the retort that so desperately wants to rise. he’s just sat there, grinning with no shame. the king is looking straight at him, and he doesn’t even care.

“any duties you’ve been given today can be postponed until later,” the king says. “mr brekker is our guest, and if he wants your company, your company he shall receive.”

kaz’s grin gets wider, and oh, you want so desperately to punch him square in the face. instead, you force a smile, turning to the king to tell him just how honoured you would be to give kaz brekker your company on this fine morning.

and that’s how you find yourself strolling through the gardens with kaz, yet again.

“you’re unbelieable,” you mumble, arms folded over your chest like a school kid having a tantrum.

“i’m good,” he replies. “you know i’m good, y/n. i don’t know why you act surprised.”

“he’s the king, kaz,” you hiss. “can you not tone it down a little?”

“tone what down?”

“the-” you gesture vaguely, though the only word you can conjure is flirting, and there’s no way in hell you’re letting that slip into the conversation. “the shit. tone down the shit!”

“i’m not scared of him. i know you want me to be, but i’m not.”

“oh yes. how could i forget? kaz brekker isn’t scared of anything.”

kaz scoffs. “kaz brekker is scared of plenty of things - men aren’t one of them.”

such a kaz thing to say. the most frustrating bit about it was that he was telling the truth.

“i told inej what your job is here,” he continues after a moment of tense silence.

“oh?”

“she understands. says you’ve always been one to do anything to survive.”

you shrug. she’s right.

“that worries me, you know.”

“nothing worries you, kaz.”

“the thought of you in danger does.”

you shake your head. “don’t start this now. you said it yourself; what we had was nothing.”

“why can’t i worry about you without it having to mean something bigger?”

“because everything you say means something bigger.”

kaz falls silent. he knows it’s true, and so do you. kaz has never been able to speak his full extent, always letting people think less of him so he can take them by surprise when the time is right. you have learned first hand how frustrating that can be, but it was also a part of him you grew to love. it was what made him so intelligent, so cunning. it was what made him kaz.

“are you not ever worried you’re going to get unlucky one day?”

you glance over. he keeps his head ducked down, one hand curled around the head of his cane, the other tucked into his pocket. “i know what i signed up for. getting poisoned was kind of part of the risk.”

“since when did you even know how to identify poisons?”

your lips twitch. “jesper taught me.”

kaz rolls his eyes skyward, running a hand through his hair; the sun glows against his tan skin. “of course he did. honestly, the shit you two got up to when i wasn’t around-”

“we had fun,” you say. “we could only do that when you weren’t hovering over our shoulders.”

kaz glares.

you look to the floor, afraid to smile at him, afraid to open this conversation into something even mildly pleasant; if you can get through this entire visit without thinking of kaz fondly, maybe it will make all of it a bit easier. maybe you’ll be able to trick yourself into thinking you’ve moved on, grown stronger since your time in the barrel.

“how is jesper?” you ask, because you suddenly feel like you can’t help it.

kaz shrugs. “how jesper always is.”

“worse?”

“for a while. he didn’t take you leaving very well, but he straightened himself out.” kaz tugs on his lapels. “he always does.”

“yeah. he does.”

you wonder about jesper sometimes. it hurts to know he took your leave badly, though you should have known; jesper has never been one to handle his feelings well. that was your job on his behalf. you would often sit with him at night, just to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid. you once handcuffed him to his bed post to stop him heading out into the gambling hall of the hotel you were staying in.

he was the only one you could ever really properly speak to about what was going on between you and kaz. inej understood kaz, but jesper was kaz’s right-hand man. he was the one kaz would go to about things like that.

“does jesper know how to make your brew?”

there is no moment of confusion, like he was expecting the question. “i’m sure he does. i never ask him to make it, though.”

your nostrils flare. “kaz-”

“listen, the nightmares aren’t going to disappear,” he says, raising a silencing hand that you swat away before he can think it works. “i don’t need some special brew helping me sleep.”

“no, you’ll just stay awake until you drop dead.”

kaz grins, sharp as knives. “that’ll be the way to go, won’t it?”

you shove his shoulder, suddenly furious. he looks over, still grinning, because kaz has always found your frustration amusing. he used to say you looked like a chipmunk who just got their nuts stolen.

“for someone so smart,” you hiss, “you’re pretty stupid.”

“because i won’t indulge in your famous sleep remedy?”

“because you’ll let yourself suffer before asking for help.”

his smile fades. “i only ask certain people for help, y/n. it’s not my fault those people keep leaving.”

your heart drops; there he goes again with the impersonal little jabs, knowing he’s cutting you so, so deep. you don’t even humour him with a response, instead quickening your pace until you begin to feel like he isn’t even there.

but that’s impossible, because he’s kaz brekker. he’s yours. even when he truly isn’t there, it’s like he’s walking right beside you, and you’re beginning to get very annoyed by the attachment. it’s not fair on you, and it’s not fair on kaz, but neither of you seem able to help it.

you continue walking until the cold gets a little too much. then you head back to the palace in silence.

----

final meal of the day. you will make sure it’s not poisoned, and then you will go to bed.

kaz is there, as per usual. the king and queen don’t even act shocked any more, simply welcoming him into the dining hall. oftentimes, he’ll stroll in by your side, his cane clicking against the marble and that smug little smile playing on his face. you always ignore him, even though the king says it’s disrespectful to do so.

tonight, you do just that. you take your seat beside the king, gather up his food and start the process. the beef is smothered in gravy, making the scent test a little difficult, but you give it a go anyway, because it’s protocol by now.

kaz watches from afar, one finger pressed to his lips. he’s lounging back like he’s comfortable, like sitting in a palace is what he does every day. his eyes are narrowed, focused.

you pop the beef into your mouth and chew; nothing.

you move onto the potatoes. nothing.

finally, you dip your fork into the sweetcorn and raise it to your lips.

kaz slaps the fork from your hand. he makes no noise. one minute he is sat at the head of the table, and the next he is by your side, grabbing your shoulders and pulling you from your seat.

the queen shrieks as the fork flies directly at her, sweetcorn and all. a glass of wine tips over when kaz pulls you to your feet, your knee slamming against the underside of the table. palace guards run inside, but none of them know what to do - nobody in the room shouldn’t be there, and so they stand by the door, glancing at each other.

your eyes, however, are trained on kaz.

“what. the. fuck?” you hiss under your breath as the king tends to his startled wife.

kaz meets your eyes dead on. “you really need to get better at your job.” he grabs your arm and starts for the door. the king hollers after him, demanding to know what is going on, but kaz pays him no attention, and you have no idea why you’re not fighting any of this. your heart is hammering in your chest at a million miles per hour, and you have so many questions, but it’s just reflex by now to trust kaz.

he drags you through the halls until reaching his room, where he pushes open the door and leads you inside. it is only then, when it is just the two of you, that you come to your senses, replaying that scene over and over in your head.

you whirl around, yanking your arm from his grip so harshly that you stumble back. “what the hell was that, kaz?”

“how much training did they actually give you before throwing you in to risk your life everyday?”

“why do you care?”

he starts pulling his tie loose, not even looking at you. “just tell me.”

you fold your arms over your chest, trying desperately to keep your attention away from the way his gloved fingers tug and pull at the knot on his tie. “i did a course at the start where i could identify all the different types of poisons.”

he quirks an eyebrow. “that all?”

“it was enough.”

“if it was enough, y/n, you would have noticed the soft spots in the sweetcorn.”

your head snaps up. soft spots?

he hums, despite you saying nothing in response. “wilde yolk makes food go soft in certain places. it also kills people in about ten seconds if consumed in even the tiniest amount.” he looks up, flicking his tie off completely. “did you not learn that in your course?”

you bite your lip and look away. you were so distracted at that dinner table these days, focusing mostly on kaz brekker at the end of the table. you had no idea he was examining your food just as much as you should have been. you had no idea he was keeping an eye out for you.

“so is this experience enough to get you to move back to the barrel?”

your eyes snap up. he’s staring right at you. he doesn’t even look fazed by his question.

and that makes you so, so angry. in seconds, you have gone from grateful to furious; only kaz can elicit that response from you.

you step back, glaring. “so that’s what this is then? you came all the way here to drag me back to the barrel?”

“well, no. i came here to get inej help, but she seems to be healing up pretty well with all the goods your people are giving her.” he shrugs, bottom lip protruding. “so i thought i’d try my hand at this.”

“you are unbelievable.”

kaz raises a brow. “are you getting mad at me?”

“you are unbelievable!” you want to throw something at him. you want to break down and cry. you kind of want to go with him. “it’s like you haven’t listened to a word i’ve said. are you that self-centred, kaz?”

“you know i am.”

you close your eyes, trying to steady your breathing. maybe you’re overreacting. maybe you really are better off in the barrel, where you were born and raised, where you learned everything you ever knew. but here, with kaz being the one to drag you back - it reminds you so harshly that you’re his. you are his, and that is all anyone will ever see you as, and that thought. . . you don’t know how to feel about that thought.

“this isn’t the life for you, y/n,” he continues. “you know it isn’t. once the barrel has you, it doesn’t let you go. we’ve all learned that the hard way.”

“is that what you are?” you spit. “the hard way?”

he shrugs. “you should be grateful it’s me and not someone worse.”

“there is no one worse, kaz.”

his lips twitch, the only sign that your words have actually struck a nerve. “you mean that, do you?”

“don’t act like you’re the good guy. you know you’re evil. you’re proud of it! that’s why i had to leave. that’s why i’m in here risking my life every single fucking day! i wanted to get away from you!”

and oh, saints, this isn’t going how you wanted it to go. the words are spilling from your mouth before you can stop them, mind racing too quick for your mouth to catch up. his face continues falling with every word, but you don’t stop.

“saints, kaz, when are you ever going to grow the fuck up? you walk around pretending you have everything under control, that you own the place, but you’re nothing - nothing - without the rest of us. you would be dead twenty times over if it wasn’t for that little crew of yours, the people you have under your god damn thumb.” you step forward, teeth gritted. “kaz dirtyhands brekker can’t even take his own fucking gloves off.”

“is that what you want?” he steps closer, so close your chests are almost touching. his face is red, a line of sweat glittering upon his upper lip that only ever shows itself when he’s furious, out of his mind with anger. “you want the gloves to come off? fine.”

and then he plucks the gloves from his hands and throws them on the floor.

his hands. the hands you have seen only twice in the years you have known him, the hands that have never touched your bare skin. suddenly they are in full view, free reign to do whatever you want with them, but all you can do is step back, one hand covering your mouth as you try and process what you’ve said, what kaz has done, how the situation could have taken such a harsh, grim turn.

but kaz isn’t finished. kaz is never finished.

“is this what you want, y/n?” he demands. “you need me to bear myself completely for you to believe i’m in love with you? or is this not enough?”

“kaz-”

“what else is it going to take, huh? tell me.”

“kaz, i’m-”

“what about this?”

he’s crazy. he’s crazy, and making mistakes, and you know this because he reaches forward and cups your face in his bare hands, flesh against flesh. shock ricochets through you, eyes widening as kaz lets out an anguished groan, his own eyes slipping closed. you feel his fingers trembling upon your skin.

you wrench away from him, gasping.

he immediately spins around, clutching his hands to his chest. he groans low in his throat, pressing his head against the wall. sweat trickles down the back of his neck, disappearing beneath his collar. you catch a single tear run down his cheek that he can’t wipe away because then his fingers will be touching his skin, and he hates that. it kills him. you know it does.

you rush forward, placing a hand safely on his jacket-covered shoulder. his breathing is ragged and shaky.

“kaz,” you pant. “oh god, kaz, i’m so sorry. i’m so, so sorry. why did you do that?” you whirl around frantically. “your gloves. where are your gloves?”

he doesn’t reply. you’re talking to yourself at this point. you spot his gloves on the floor and grab them, immediately handing them back without so much as a brush of your fingertips against his. he’s hurried and distressed when he tugs them back on, clenching his fist over and over again, as if to ensure his hands are safely hidden beneath the leather.

he doesn’t turn around. you stand behind him, one hand pressed to your chest, eyes swimming in tears you didn’t even feel rising to the surface.

“kaz,” you whisper. “i’m. . . i didn’t mean. . .”

“you got what you wanted, didn’t you?” he mumbles, straightening up. “i’m not asking you to return to the barrel with me so you can serve me, or whatever you think this is. i’m asking you to return so i can have you there. so we can be together again.” he glances over his shoulder. “as it should be.”

you stare at him, wanting to respond, wanting to tell him to go to hell, but you can’t lie. never before have you been able to look kaz in the eye and lie, and maybe that’s why you say nothing. he’s right in every sense - you and him are meant to be by each other’s side, no matter what. barrel born and raised, nobody understands you quite like he does.

but admitting that, throwing away every barrier you have worked so hard to put up . . . you can’t do it.

kaz waits a moment longer before laughing half-heartedly, sounding more exhausted than anything else. he lowers his head, black hair falling in his face before he swipes it out of the way, looks at you and says, “get out.”

“kaz-”

“stop saying my name.” he turns, tossing his tie onto the bed. “get. out. inej and i will be gone tomorrow.”

you swallow thickly, pushing away the tears. and then you do as he said, because standing in his presence for much longer is going to send you into a spiral you don’t think you’ll be able to crawl out of again. you’ve been down that road before, and it took everything in you not to be consumed.

----

“why do you look like you’ve been crying?” inej asks. she’s sat up now, a tray of soup perched on her lap. the colouring has come back to her skin, and she stands up whenever she wants to. whatever the palace medics did for her is working wonders, which you suppose is one thing you should be grateful for.

you lean over and dip a slice of bread in her soup.

“are you checking if it’s been poisoned?” inej jokes, and when you don’t respond, she sighs. “you and kaz have a fight?”

you wince, which is answer enough.

“what about this time?”

“he wants me to go back to the barrel with you.”

inej pauses, eyes still cast to her soup. you look at her, stomach curling in sudden realisation.

“wait,” you say. “did you know that was his plan this entire time?”

“no,” she replies, though she looks sheepish. “i genuinely was sick. kaz just. . . came along for the ride when he heard you were here.” she looks up and groans. “you can’t act surprised, y/n. what were you expecting? for him to just walk out and leave you here?”

“that would have been the right thing to do, yes.”

“well, you know kaz better than that. use your brain.” she waves a hand in your direction. “pass me another slice of bread and tell me about this argument.”

you don’t want to. all day you have been thinking about the feel of his hands on your face, his flesh against your own, the anguished groan ripped from his throat. he put himself through that to prove - what? that he loves you? that’s what he said, but it was only a few days prior he was claiming what you and him had was nothing. it was forgotten, and you were happy about that for the briefest moment. if kaz moved on, you could too.

but then he took the gloves off, and it was just. . . messed up again. you were left confused and guilty and pining, and you hated yourself for it. it was as if all that hard work you had put in to forget about kaz had been thrown out the window - trust kaz to come in and ruin everything.

“i can see what you’re thinking, you know,” says inej suddenly.

“can you?”

“take it from me,” she says. “kaz is never going to get over you. he’s never going to let you go. he’s never going to stop trying for you. he’s a stubborn bastard, and a stubborn bastard is even worse when they’re in love - which kaz is. disastrously, madly in love.”

“he said we were nothing.”

“he’s a stubborn and prideful bastard.”

you close your eyes, heart thumping. “i don’t know what to do, inej.”

“well, do you love him back?”

your eyes fly open. “what kind of question is that?”

she shrugs. “an obvious one, but i want to know the answer.”

you know the answer. your brain screams it at you. you have felt the answer in your bones every day since you left the barrel, and yet speaking it aloud feels like a betrayal of yourself from yourself.

so you look away, and as inej always claims, she can see exactly what you’re thinking.

a soft chuckle slips past her lips. “the barrel never leaves a person, y/n. and apparently, neither does kaz brekker.”

“what are you suggesting?”

inej shrugs. “kaz and i are leaving for ketterdam in the morning. there’s definitely room for a third person.”

----

you don’t sleep that night. neither does kaz.

you can hear him pacing back and forth in his room, no doubt replaying the days events over and over in his mind in the same way you are. his hands against your skin, his eyes piercing your own, those words he spoke that left you tingling all over.

even now, laying in bed, you can’t get over what he said. i love you. that was the jidst of it, and though you had heard that confession from him a few times in the past, it was different this time around. it was kaz trying to prove himself, which he never did before. if someone didn’t take kaz at face value, he wouldn’t bother.

and you have to admit, hearing him say those words was like a shot to the chest. they are the very words that have been on the tip of your tongue for months now, spoken only in dreams when you finally allow yourself to sleep. you can say them to no one else - just kaz. always, always just kaz.

and maybe this realisation is the reason you find yourself getting dressed at six in the morning. maybe this realisation is the reason you pack all your things into the ruck sack you came to the palace with. maybe this realisation is the reason you tip-toe to the courtyard, avoiding the eyes of the staff who all look at you like you’re some kind of prisoner escaping your cell.

it’s still dark. the grass is wet beneath your thin shoes, the jacket you have pulled on doing little to protect you from the icy winds coming from the ocean just feet away from the palace’s front door. hovering on the banks is a boat, a boat you recognise as The Mast, one of the many boats kaz has won from different people around ketterdam.

you nearly cry at the sight of it.

you don’t waste time waiting on kaz and inej - you don’t want to have this discussion with either of them until you’re safely on the water, until you can’t change your mind.

you clamber onto the boat, giving a sheepish smile to the stunned crew member - Daryl, you think he’s called - as he stares at you approaching. he offers you a hand when you finally reach the deck, his eyes never leaving your own.

“morning,” you say. “i’m y/n.”

“i know,” daryl replies, before tipping his hat. “it’s wonderful to have you back on board.”

you smile awkwardly, unsure how to respond; how much do the crew actually know about what happened between you and the crows? how many people bore witness to that god awful aftermath?

you decide not to wait around to hear the answer. instead, you tell daryl you’re going down to the cabins, and he doesn’t argue. you disappear beneath the deck, finding the first room with a bed and immediately claiming it as your own; despite the lack of sleep, you are not tired in the slightest. you can’t get kaz out of your head, how he is going to react when the boat eventually docks and he sees you strolling off of it, greeted by that rancid ketterdam air. back in the barrel.

you lay down on the bed and stare at the ceiling. you will fall asleep eventually. you’ll trick yourself into it.

and then the door opens.

your eyes snap open with it; you must have fallen asleep eventually. groggily, you lift your head and look at the intruder - and your heart immediately falls.

“kaz.”

he looks crazed, hair stuck up, eyes wild. behind him stands inej, grinning from ear to ear, though the minute kaz steps into the room, she disappears into the shadows, leaving you and dirtyhands alone.

his eyes never leave yours as he approaches. he marches to your bedside, grabs your hand and pulls you up.

“kaz-”

he shoves you against the wall, gun pressed to your temple. you inhale sharply, though you can’t claim to be surprised or scared. you stare into his eyes, watching his own trace your features, looking for any sign that you are here in bad company.

“kaz,” you whisper, because it’s always his name that fights past your lips. “it’s me. i’m going home.”

his grip slackens. the gun crashes to the floor, and before you can say anything, he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you into him. you are careful to rest your head upon his shoulder, not touching his flesh, but feeling him nonetheless. tears spring to your eyes, dribbling down the bridge of your nose and soaking the shoulder of his fancy suede jacket - one he stole from the kings wardrobe, you notice.

but you don’t pull away, afraid to go without his touch for another second.

“is this what you want?” he asks, voice muffled by your hair. “is this really what you’ve decided?”

“yes.” you pull away, hands sliding down his arms. “you’re right, kaz. the barrel is . . . it’s a shit hole, but it’s where i belong. it’s all i know. and you and me. . . we have to do this thing together.”

he narrows his eyes. “what thing?”

“everything.”

the corners of his mouth twitch. you can imagine kissing those lips, drawing him close and embracing in that way lovers often do. however, you’re content, happy even, with the way things are. you hold his gloved hands, and he says he loves you. you confide in him, and he confides in you, and sometimes you fight like children, but in the end, he will have your back no matter what.

“everything,” he repeats. “yeah.” he slips his gloved hands into the sleeve of your jacket, tracing his fingers along your crow tattoo, the one he matched, the one everyone matched when they decided to let the barrel take them over. you shiver, biting your lower lip. “you still have it.”

“i could hardly get rid of it,” you reply. kaz looks up, and you sigh. “i would never get rid of it, kaz. no matter what.”

he nods, rolling your sleeve back down. he pulls it over your wrist, covering your fingers before leaning down and pressing a kiss to the soft, rain soaked fabric.

he looks up at you again. “yes. no matter what.”

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker fanfic #soc #soc fanfic #kaz brekker fic #kaz brekker fanfiction #soc fanfiction #soc fic #six of crows #six of crows fanfic #six of crows fanfiction #six of crows fic

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enasallavellan · 3 years ago

Text

Chapter 151

Cullen gets just a little agitated during a meeting concerning the Winter Palace, and the advisors take some time to watch Enasal’s progress.

Click on the links in the text to hear what I listened to while writing this!

Rule of Rose OST - Track 13 - Backbiting (Extended Version)

Cullen hadn’t had the heart to wake Enasal when he got up for morning drill - the sun wasn’t even up, the only evidence of morning was the hazy gray light just before the sunrise. He had taken just enough time to grab her a set of clothes, figuring she wouldn’t fancy the idea of walking back to her room in her nightgown. She had barely stirred when he set the bundle by her head, murmuring something. Cullen smiled and kissed her temple, telling her to stay as long as she wanted. She did open her eyes in the slightest, smiling at him before nestling back under the covers. He assumed she had left at some point but had yet to see her again. Josephine had truly been running her through the wringer with the lessons and the endless exercises to prepare her for the upcoming operation. It was no wonder she was having nightmares. They had scheduled a meeting to discuss some of the details for the event, and he decided to bring it up to them either before or after Enasal arrived - they were pushing her too hard.

“No Enasal, today?” Cullen asked with a hint of a smile, “Or is she just late?”

“You’ll see her sure enough, I’m sure.” Leliana said, winking at him, ”But for now you’ll have to survive.”

“This is still the meeting about Halamshiral?” Cullen shot back, face going a bit pink, “You'll forgive me for assuming she’d be part of it.”

Josephine sighed, “That’s enough, we don’t have time for you two to needle each other. Commander, why don't you start?”

Cullen nodded, ignoring his chair in favor of leaning on the wall, “Our plan is to have a small honor guard escort Enasal into the ball.” He said, “No more than ten, if that.”

“And my people?” Leliana asked.

“I need you to negotiate sneaking more of our soldiers in - as many as possible without arousing any suspicion.”

“We can send some in without armor.” She said, “Infiltrate the staff.”

Josephine nodded in approval, “That would also give us an opportunity to take a look at the living conditions of the servants.” She smiled, “Enasal has insisted that we investigate.”

“Of course she has.” Cullen chuckled, a smile spreading over his face.

“We can use my people to stay close to the Empresses.” Leliana said, “Keep a watch for the possible assassinators.”

A knock sounded and the door opened and Josephine called for them to enter. Retter came in, saluting. He stood quietly by the door, waiting until he was acknowledged.

“We need to think of Enasal as well.” Cullen said firmly, “The Inquisition has made enemies - enemies that might take this as an opportunity to harm her.”

“I’m sure you have a plan.” Leliana said.

He nodded, “I’m going to have Krem keep an eye on her - close enough that he can intervene but not so much that it will be noticed.”

“Good.” Josephine said, “We need to talk to Enasal about what to do for minor issues - harassment or someone touching her without permission.”

“You consider that a minor issue?” Cullen balked.

“In Orlais, yes.” Josephine said.

He tapped his fingers on the table, “Well if that’s a minor issue, this is a monumental one.” He spoke firmly, eyes going from one to the other, “I want eyes on the Chevaliers - keep them away from Enasal.”

“Commander,” Leliana shook her head, “The Chevaliers are highly regarded in Orlais, we cannot-”

“They also celebrate their graduation by going into alienages and killing as many elves as they can get their hands on.” He snapped, “And they never answer for their crimes - the stories I’ve heard from Orlesian troops.” He leaned on the table, “I’ll have no harm come to Enasal - and I’ll have people running interference against them. With your approval or not.”

“You know.” Retter spoke up from his spot at the door, “I would be more than happy to assist in the task.”

Cullen looked over at him and said pointedly, “The Lady Inquisitor Enasal needs the eyes of people who know what they’re doing. The offer is very kind, Master Retter, but unneeded.”

Josephine sighed, “Forgive me, I lost track of you - what is it you need?”

“Herritt sent me.” He said, “He wanted to know if you would require any ceremonial weapons for the event.”

Cullen crossed his arms over his chest, narrowing his eyes “Herritt sent you to interrupt a meeting for that?”

“We are in a bit of a pinch, aren’t we?” He said with a shrug, “But I can hammer out some pretty things for you on the road.”

“Forgive us, Master Retter, but we will not be bringing any blacksmiths with us.” Josephine said, “And we do not require any such things, but do thank Herritt for the thought.”

“I see.” Retter nodded, but stayed in his spot.

Cullen frowned at him, “You’re excused, Master Retter.”

Retter managed to hide the glare, but enough flicked in his eyes for Cullen to notice.

“Do you have anything else you need?” Josephine said quickly.

After a second of silence, Retter was all smiles, “No, Lady Ambassador. Forgive my intrusion, I’ll see myself out.”

As soon as the door closed, Leliana snapped her head to look at Cullen, “And what was that?”

Cullen shook his head, “Forgive my temper that man just… rubs me the wrong way.”

“I can tell.” Josephine said, teasing eye looking at him from over her clipboard.

“I don’t like how he talks to her.” Cullen said shortly.

“Back to our discussion.” Josephine said, “Lady Annason wishes for all of us to come by tomorrow to see if any final adjustments will need to be made. We’ll leave the day after - are your people ready to move out, Commander?”

He nodded, “They are - I have a few of the Chargers in the honor guard - Lieutenant Aclassi will be in command.”

“Leliana?” Josephine asked.

“As soon as you give the word.”

Josephine sighed, “We’ll brief Enasal later on - I want her focused on her lessons right now - Commander, do you think you can talk to her about shoes, she’s fighting Annason on it.”

Cullen leaned on the table, frowning, “Please don’t make me do the dirty work.”

“She needs to wear shoes.”

“Nobody will be able to tell.” Cullen argued.

“They will.” Leliana said.

“How? Her skirts go to the bloody floor.”

“She'll lift them for stairs and curtsies." Josephine explained, "As well as when she dances."

He sighed, "I'll suggest it but I'm not going to harass her about it."

"Commander, the Dalish already have quite the stigma on those hands." Leliana said, "Attending a royal ball with no shoes might… enforce some stereotypes."

His brow furrowed in irritation, "Oh? And which one will she be enforcing, then?"

Josephine sighed, "You know what they say, Commander."

"Uncivilized." Leliana said, "And not wearing shoes would be considered in support of that."

"Yes." He muttered, "Grand help that was at Madame Vivienne's salon."

"Commander," Josephine said with an exasperated sigh, "You know nobody in this room believes that -"

"So we take away what she is, then?" He said, "Maybe we should hide her ears with a hat and throw a mask on her face for her Vasallin."

"You're being ridiculous!" Leliana groaned.

"That's enough, both of you." Josephine said, "It is a small adjustment that will benefit the Inquisition and Enasal."

They both fell quiet, but shot a set of glares.

Josephine rolled her eyes, "I think that's enough for the day." She flipped a few pages on her clipboard, "Enasal should still be at dance practice, why don't you go watch, maybe it will fix both of your moods."

Cullen got up, "Reconvening would be for the best.”

“I have work to see to.” Leliana replied, heading in the direction of the rookery.

Josephine heaved an irritated sigh and followed Cullen out, “Always bickering.”

“She doesn’t see Enasal as a person.” He snapped, “Just an inquisitor, nothing more.”

“I don’t need your bite, Commander.”

He glanced at her and sighed, “My apologies, she just… “

“Rubs you the wrong way?” Josephine said with a quiet laugh.

He sighed, “Yes but it’s not just… this operation concerns me.”

“It concerns all of us, Commander, I assure you.” She let the hand holding her clipboard fall to her side, “Now come, we can watch Enasal dance.”

(M-H) FFVIII Waltz for the Moon

A few of Enasal’s inner circle were in the Crows nest with her, that little private room there. Enasal and Krem were dancing as Maryden played - wonderfully so. Krem led her with confidence, and Enasal easily followed his steps, keeping her head up as she did so, both smiling and clearly enjoying themselves.

Again, a slight streak of jealousy over Enasal’s dearest friend. Cullen knew better. He knew there neither was nor would ever be anything between them, but…

He wished a bit that he was the one dancing with her, even though dancing was something he could barely stand the thought of.

But with her…

Krem spun her, lightly twirling her to her side before pulling her back, repeating the step a few times before leading her around again.

The music slowed to a stop, and the two bowed to each other - then pulled faces. Their friends watching applauded a bit, voicing their approval of the improvement.

Josephine joined in, and Cullen reluctantly followed suit as everyone’s attention was drawn to them. But when Enasal’s eyes lit up and she came to him, he felt a bit better at that.

“What did you think?” She asked, “Pretty good, yeah?”

He nodded, “Quite good.”

“I’m very impressed with your improvement, Enasal.” Josephine said, “And the group dances?”

“She's figured it out for the most part.” Krem assured, “We were just having a little fun.”

Enasal held out her hands to Cullen, “Want to try?”

“Ah…” He shook his head, “I’m sorry, Enasal, I just… can’t.”

She smiled, a bit sadly. “That’s okay, maybe someday?”

He returned the smile, but didn’t comment either way.

Maybe someday, at a time where it couldn't be seen, where nobody would see his nod-doubt clumsy steps.

A commander of an army dancing.

His people would never let him live it down.

But…

Maybe with her.

Read the full from the beginning at my A03 here!

If you’re willing and able, feel free to my ko-fi here to help me keep the lights on!

#enasal lavellan #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dragon age fanfic #dragon age fic #dragon age fanfiction #dai #dai fanfic #dai fic #dai fanfiction #dragon age inquisitor #Leliana #spymaster leliana #nightengale #Cullen #Commander Cullen #Cullen Rutherford #josephine montilyet #bicker bicker bicker

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actlikeyoudidntdoit · 4 years ago

Text

ASSASSIN’S MODERN DAY PROFESSIONS

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ALTAÏR

College Professor

-We all know that Altaïr has spent most of his life teaching, so what better job does he have than a college professor?

-He knows what he’s talking about, that much is certain, but sometimes he gets a little too lost in his lesson to realize that his students are scratching their heads. So it’s normal to have students staying after class, but they leave understanding every word of what he said.

-He’s not the fun teacher, but he’ll be able to teach you what you need and still remember it at the end of the day.

-He’s pretty lenient, and even with the obnoxious students who cause a scene, he calmly gets them to at least do their work.

-Other teachers always use him as a reference when it comes to the perfect teacher.

EZIO AUDITORE

-I can see Ezio being a public speaker since he’s not all that scared of crowds and spends a lot of time giving advice, so I think he’d really enjoy being able to help a crowd of people whose lives are falling apart

-Ezio would be the single anchor in a sea of storms because he always seems to have an answer for everything. He’s a man whose words are turned into inspirational quotes that people hang on their walls.

-When he says that things will be okay, no one doubts him since they know that he lost his father and his brothers very early on and that it took years for Ezio to accept the loss the way he had. If he could soldier through it, why couldn’t they?

-He doesn’t involve himself in politics, finding them to be a waste of time and breath despite how many people ask for his input on the political status of the country he’s staying in.

-He speaks to a lot of people in private, letting them speak their minds and giving his advice if they want it. He’s a therapist without a license, and you always feel hopeful about life leaving his office.

Connor

Construction or Sports

-This boy was designed for heavy work, and I’ve heard some good points in saying that not only would he be amazing at sports, but he’d also really enjoy it too.

-In my personal headcanon, I think he’d be a good construction worker as well. Not the high end kind that build skyscrapers or anything, but I can see him building simple houses for small communities, taking the lower jobs that can’t afford much help like the sweetheart he is. He definitely volunteers to make houses for the homeless.

-Since most of the homeless he helps don’t have much money, he makes sure to offer them baked goods because he’s definitely a baker.

Edward Kenway

-As a young man, he joins the navy

-Once he’s on his own, he buys his own boat and treats it like royalty.

-He’s not a pirate himself, but he does let less legal people on board for a price. At the time, it was just an easy cash pay since people paid good money when they were desperate.

-When he’s older and gets a grip on some of the people he’s helping (like the REALLY bad criminals) he quickly lets it go.

-Yet after seeing some of the more decent people and the places they were running from, I can see him being a sort of smuggler, but instead of smuggling drugs or weapons, he sells medicines, canned foods, and clothes to the regions where they’re scarce or hard to pay for.

-When he’s older and found a fortune over time, he starts up his own official charity, hiring various sailers to sail supplies to more places than he himself could alone.

SHAY CORMAC

-Okay, I have to say it. Shay would DEFINITELY be an FBI spy. Maybe I haven’t thought of it as heavily as I could, but he just strikes me as a man who could kill someone in plain sight and still not be seen.

-He already knows everything he can about infiltrating and getting vital information

-He knows exactly how to manipulate people to get what he wants.

-He’s like Macgyver but as an agent.

-He does things that make sleeping at night impossible, but he tells himself that every long night for him is another person somewhere else having a peaceful night, and peaceful nights means he’s doing his job. Right?

-Constantly questions his morals, but he can’t bring himself to stop, not knowing that he’d do if he stopped, because at least here he’s doing something. He’s contributing.

-That and maybe I might or might not want to see Shay in a suit 🤷‍♀️

AVELINE

-Actress. And a damn good one. She’s one of the kind of people who get paid millions each job and gives most of her cash on people who really need it. Not only that, she’s a fan favorite everywhere.

-She takes extra jobs in smaller businesses barely staying afloat, and public morality boosts has nothing to do with it. In fact, she keeps her fame life out of everything, choosing to see it just as another job.

-I can see her sharing similarities of Zendaya or Zoe Zaldana

ARNO DORIAN

-High school teacher or actor, I can’t decide.

-Because let’s be honest, this guys brain is more wrinkled than a raisin. He knows his stuff.

-He’s good at simplifying what he’s saying, and that happens to be a very useful trait when it comes to teaching.

-If he was a teacher, he’d be a damn good one, that’s for sure. No one will fail his class because he’s so good at explaining things, and he’d be the one who actually cares for his students.

-When it comes to acting... just admit that Arno’s a theater boy through and through. If you need proof, he’s the only one with a crazy amount of fancy robes and colors. FOR GODS SAKE HE OWNS A THEATER! So on modern day, I could totally see him as an actor as well.

-He’d be the Ewan Mcgregor of the modern day, because everyone recognizes him from SOMEWHERE because he’s really tested his acting ability on multiple various roles. Well read, charming, and level headed, he’d totally rock being an actor. He’s good friends with Aveline, and when they both have time in their busy schedules, they stop by for coffee and fill each other in on their life.

JACOB

-Boxing

-I saw the photoshops of Jacob in boxer life, and I have not been the same because oh my god that is amazing.

-but absolutely he’d be a boxer. He’s the shortest guy in the entire match, but he doesn’t need a stool to knock you on your ass before you can laugh about it.

-His opponents are lucky shattering bones is against the rules because he knows how to make someone wish their dad wore a condom.

-A lot of people think that his rounds must be rigged, and his sister had to physically hold him back every time Jacob threatened to give him a close up of how ‘rigged’ his fights were.

-Jacobs a powder keg, so it doesn’t take much to make him explode, and a lot of the less respectful people he has to fight picks particularly sore spots to do just that.

-He might be pissed, but his punch isn’t the only thing that stings. He knows exactly what words to use, and when they’ve gone too far, he doesn’t hold back.

-Might have a temper, but he has a good heart despite it all. He visits schools and completely turns his personality around with kids. He signs autographs, takes pictures, and makes sure that every one of them have a fun day because he knows that there’s some kids in this school that don’t have those kinds of days. He pays the school for field days each time, making sure they all get out. They bring out the scooters, parachutes, capture the flag, and ‘wrestling’ matches for the kids who want to face him. He loses every time. He never has a bigger smile on his face than when he has children fans walk up to him.

EVIE

-She is totally a lawyer and you can’t change my mind.

-Logic and Facts are her strongest weapons, and so far she has yet to lose a debate.

-Every other lawyer knows that seeing Evie walk into court is an instant death sentence, because like her brother, her words are sharp as a knife and her mind is even sharper.

-If they didn’t look identical, no one would believe that she would be related with Jacob the hot headed boxer, because she was level as water and was near impossible to make angry, but god help the poor sod that presses her.

-Her clients almost always get the best case scenario with Evie by their side by how good she is.

-Also like her brother, children are her weak spot, and her hard composure melts whenever she needs to speak to a child in the witness post, making sure that the child feel comfortable unlike the others that drill the kid with questions when they’re too skittish to answer. She takes her time and gets the kid feeling safe, and gently asks their side.

-Evie might not do it as a profession, but Evie has beaten Jacob in the boxing ring in the gym. She knows damn well how to handle herself, knowing she’d need it since she’d be fighting corrupt politicians or gang members who have too often tried attempts at her life. Every time she emerged unscathed, using the attempt at even more evidence against them and insuring a spot in jail. No one dared try attacking her again after that.

BAYEK

-I’m thinking police officer or motivational speaker for trauma.

-Either way, he’s a guardian who takes care of the people he’s in charge of. He knows words well, and having been down the dark path himself, he knows exactly what people experience and what they want to hear.

-Be the change you want to see in the world, and that’s exactly what he’s doing.

-He’d be a well respected officer, and he’s not afraid of telling off a comrade if someone is wrongfully accused. He’s not very popular in the police station, but as long as he’s doing his job, he’s satisfied.

-He’s saved several people over the course in his life, and his word is well honored since he’s on no ones side. He sees things as what they are and doesn’t twist events he disagreed with to his point of view. Even if it hurts him personally, he doesn’t lie.

-He’s divorced, but they’re still best friends with each other and visit when they can.

AYA (ran out of gifs. Sorry)

-She is hands down a self defense teacher for women

-She sells hidden self defense tools for less than ten dollars, always sure to keep constantly supply of them since many have confessed that they’ve saved them from dangerous situations.

-Like her former husband, she’s a protector and makes sure she provides her students with the best.

-She teaches children what to do if they ever get grabbed, and she’s had many parents in years thanking her when that information ended up saving their child’s life.

ALEXIOS

-Hands down he is a stunt double

- Preferably Arno’s since he relies more on flexibility than brute strength. Then there’s the fact that they look similar enough in features

-He does the moves that would probably be safer if they were just CGI, but he hates those computers with a passion, preferring to do the real thing instead of giving out something fake. He’s broken more bones than he can count, and the companies he works with always have a medic on standby when something goes wrong.

-They tried convincing him that they only needed him for a few spots, but after realizing that he wanted this (and him assuring them that he doesn’t bother with suing), they let him do his thing. The results are fruitful since the most nitpicky movie fans are absolutely thrilled when there’s a particular move done right.

-He teaches Arno a good few things about how to do action scenes, and they’re definitely good friends.

KASSANDRA

-Roller Derby

-She lives for throwing people and smacking them without being judged for it, so the Derby’s her safe spot.

-Everyone on the opposing team is terrified of her, always scared when they see her devilish smile, knowing that they’re about to get their asses handed to them. Like her brother, she’s an adrenaline junky, and when she’s not doing the derby, she’s going off into car races in a water trench. She’s surprisingly very good with cars too, knowing the inside and out of a car like the back of her hand.

-She loves it when men try to catcall her. It gives her a perfect opportunity to punch them in the face.

-She loves the races themselves because no one expects it. Sometimes she pretends to act like a beginner and absolutely slaughter them, giving them a nice wink before driving out with her cash.

-Only has a soft spot for the girl who visits her on weekends. She’s practically her older sister, and there will be hell to pay if her favorite kid gets hurt in any way.

EIVOR

-BACA(Bikers Against Child Abuse)

-The moment I saw this, I instantly thought about them.

-they would absolutely be a part of this

-Looking all badass in leather while turning into a softie for children? That’s Eivors entire character right there.

-Eivors not afraid to get physical with an abuser. They’d beat the abuser to a pulp and right after take the child out for ice cream.

-No one messes with Eivor, knowing that their lenience was stretched only for children. Anyone else tried to pressure her? Your teeth would be shattered and they’d wear the bits for a necklace.

-Children are much more brave around them because they’re tougher than their parent and on their side, so they’re not afraid to give them to the police

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yan-twst · 4 years ago

Text

yan-twst’s yandere twst base guidelines

long story short, i’m tired of not writing yan characters consistently so this is more so a guide for MYSELF to write them consistently. it’s not going to be 100% coherent or like, poetic, because this is moreso a reminder for myself to know how i’m characterizing these boys, but i thought i might as well post it so everyone has an idea how i work with yan characters

warnings: death mentions, general yandere content, mentions of verbal and physical abuse, non consensual drug use, you know the drill

riddle rosehearts is desperate for control and affection. his mommy issues make him seek out the sort of coddling and care he never got from his mother, and at the same time makes him want to establish he’s the one in charge to feel safe. he is easily jealous, doesn’t mind getting his hands dirty if it’s for his darling. he can be manipulated by them in his weaker moments, but he’ll usually be able to tell when they’re trying to use him and retaliate. he wouldn’t be opposed to letting those he trusts oversee his darling. he’ll keep his darling in his dorm; they may be allowed to roam around with trey or maybe cater, but riddle fully expects them to only go out when he’s there.

ace trappola is sadistic and a bit immature. he likes to make his darling’s life hell, tear them down and make them cry until he’s the one who comforts them (not very well). he’s the standard “little kid teasing his crush in the playground”, except way more violent. ace trusts nobody with his darling- he’ll use threats and violence to get them to stay away. he mocks his darling for being weak. ace can’t really keep his darling locked up due to his dorm situation, but his verbal abuse and manipulation are enough to keep them silent about how he treats them

deuce spade is conflicted but selfish. his past as a delinquent makes violence come easily to him, and he might hurt his darling in an outburst of anger. likewise, he’ll get rid of people he thinks are “getting too close” to his darling with threats of physical violence, and he’ll easily make good on those threats if prompted. the idea of locking them up isn’t something that comes up naturally (besides, he can’t really do that), but he’s always waiting for his darling in the door of their dorm in the mornings and drops them off, making sure they aren’t wandering off. he has bouts of extreme sweetness, talking about how they “changed him”, bringing them flowers, making them meet his mom- a big contrast to his violent tantrums, but his sweetness is enough to make his darling think he might stop hurting them (and also fear of what he could do if they broke up with him)

trey clover is a manipulator. he doesn’t really need fancy tricks or strength to make his darling stick by his side. the fact everyone sees him as a friendly and helpful man means nobody questions his actions too much. he pushes his darling to act the way he wants them to, usually gaslighting them or guilt tripping them into doing as he wishes. trey will not lock up his darling, at least not in school, but he’ll make them feel like they aren’t allowed to talk to anyone or interact with anyone other than him. he’ll also freely twist his darling’s words to make people who try to get close to them stay away

cater diamond needs to be told he’s loved, be told he’s good. he craves to have a close connection to somebody, and he’s just not used to feeling so attached to someone. he’ll use lots of blackmail to keep his darling obedient. whether he kidnaps his darling or not depends on how easily he can do so: if they’re the MC, he might not do so, since he craves to take pictures and show the world who he’s dating, and if he kidnapped them and published those it’d be too obvious. however, his blackmail makes it enough that his darling doesn’t dare go against him. cater won’t use violence to get rid of “rivals”, but he’s very much willing to use rumours and blackmail to ruin them

leona kingscholar wants both a plaything and someone to treat him like a king. he will make his darling feel weaker and inferior to him, but he’ll also seek comfort in them. leona has no trouble using some physical violence to keep his darling in their place, nor does he have qualms in killing people who he sees as a threat. luckily, it takes a lot to get him to that point, since he’s quite lazy about the effort it takes to kill. he fully expects his darling to pamper him, but he often makes allusions that once he sets a life for himself, they’ll be his “queen” of sorts. ruggie absolutely knows this is going on, and leona will let him be around his darling once in a while, as long as he knows his limits. lots of jealousy towards his brother- mentioning him is a surefire way to get beat black and blue

ruggie bucchi wants someone to call his own. he’s possessive and jealous, and he’ll do all he can to make them be his. he treats them more like property than as a lover sometimes. at the same time, he’s very much a needy lover, and he’ll be whining and keening for constanta affection. physical violence isn’t usual in his darling, but he has no issue getting rid of others- he’s very, very good at getting rid of the body. he keeps his darling locked in his room out of jealousy, and he’s got no problems with using his unique magic to make them give him affection

jack howl feels bad about how he feels but ha can’t stop himself. he rationalizes that he’s “protecting” his darling from the outside world, seeing them as weak and helpless compared to him. he scales up slowly in his obsession, starting from walking them around to locking them in his room. he thinks his darling is being thankless for not appreciating his worry. jack will not use physical violence on his darling, but he might make empty threats just to make them understand he’s stronger. jack will be hesitant to kill for his darling, however if he gets mad enough and if someone seems to be trying to rescue them or contact them, he might snap

azul ashengrotto is desperate to be reassured. he often cries and guilt trips his darling, asking them to assure him he’s good enough for them. the way he treats his darling wildly varies on his mood; when he’s feeling confident he’ll use smooth talking and act in a way so gentlemanly it might be able to temporarily make them forget their situation, but when he’s in the deep end of his insecurities he’s all screams and tears. when he’s out of his mind, he might leave bruises on his darling, but it’s more of a lack of control than a desire to hurt. he lets the leech twins around- under his watch- and makes them make sure his darling doesn’t think of escaping lest they be hunted by the eels. he’ll absolutely use a contract to take away his darling’s magic, and by extension take away the magic of anyone he sees as a “threat”. likewise, he’ll sic the twins onto the “threats”

jade leech is sadistic but calculating. he wants his darling to be dependent on him and him alone. upon kidnapping them, he makes sure to treat them nicely; bringing them warm food, physical comfort, etc. of course he also punishes quite liberally: however, he’s always careful in how he does it. he either makes it out to be entirely his darling’s fault so that he’s not “the bad guy”, or he might send in floyd to make them suffer. either way, jade is always the one to comfort them, and make them associate his presence with being well. jade absolutely keeps his darling locked up, and while he doesn’t like them being alone with someone else, he does let floyd or azul see them sometimes, maybe for dinner or something. jade has no problem killing to teach his darling a lesson, but he’s more often lowkey and clean about it

floyd leech does whatever he pleases. it doesn’t take much for him to decide to take his darling and force them into his room into the role of a toy for him to squeeze and bash around. floyd’s darling is always bruised and injured in some way- floyd sometimes treats their wounds, sometimes jade drops by to treat them, but he’s too rough for them to heal entirely. floyd rejoices in his darling’s tears and missery: he isn’t going to comfort them or try to make them love him, but rather demand they act how he wants when he wants and hurt them to get that. he’ll happily kill anyone his darling even as much as seems to think of- and he’ll also be very happy to show his darling the corpse and the gore to make them cry and sob

kalim a-asim truly doesn’t want to do his darling wrong. at first it’s his worries over his darling’s safety that makes him take action and lock them in the dorm; he prepares a room for them, lavish gifts and whatnot. kalim seems to be trying to buy his way into his darling’s heart, believing his actions can be forgiven with enough repentance (but not giving up what he’s gotten). although kalim would never harm his darling, he’ll chain them up so they can’t run, believing he’s doing the best. while kalim loathes violence and death, if he truly does believe it’s “needed”, he might pay his family’s assassins to silently get rid of threats, but he’ll be very careful to keep this a secret from his darling. talks a lot about the future and how he’ll marry his darling and how good life will be

jamil viper wants to be, for once, the most important person to someone. he wants to be seen for all he is and congratulated, worshipped. his obsession starts with being praised and given attention, and suddenly he wants more. jamil has no issue using his unique magic to keep his darling locked in his room and acting as he wants; however, he wants them to act like that out of their own accord. punishments may be verbal or physical, but in the end, he wants his darling to act like they love him without him having to hypnotize them. there’s a fair chance jamil will let kalim know about the situation, albeit word it in such a way kalim believes jamil’s darling is actually a willing lover and lend him an extra room to keep them in or something. jamil will try to avoid getting blood on his hands, but if he sees that it’s going to be better off it he kills people who may try to release his darling or expose him, he’ll gladly remove them from the scene

vil schoenheit finds peace in having someone to control and fuss over. his day to day life is very busy, always having something to do, something to study, maintain his image and his grades and his job. when it comes to his darling, vil feels relaxed when he can simply pamper them like a doll: to have some absolute control for once. he prides himself in how he “polishes” his darling. vil will use any sort of potion, from potent love potions to numbing or calming draughts to keep his darling dumb and pliant under his care. because he believes that hard work means doing everything needed, vil will easily use untraceable poisons to get rid of those he thinks are trying to tarnish his darling. he doesn’t care if the love he’s being showered with comes from a love potion, as long as he feels like he’s being entirely appreciated for who he is (and not just who the world sees him as). he’d trust rook enough to stay around and watch over his darling, but usually he’ll just keep them in his room, knowing full well the potions make them too docile to hurt themselves or make a big mess

rook hunt loves all things beautiful and thinks of his darling as a muse. he’s the very image of the stalker who watches his darling through their day, stealing trinkets and making a small “shrine”, taking creepshots, and sending anonymous letters with enough detail to make his darling scared. he builds up the “fear” (in his mind, he’s just elongating the hunt, making it a game) until he finally catches them and takes his prize home. rook has no problem letting vil know he’s keeping someone locked in: honestly, this isn’t too surprising, and as long as he doesn’t cause trouble, vil might be willing to supply love potions and such to keept he ruckus down. still, rook much prefers to “tame” his darling the natural way- with fear, punishment, and reward. he’ll often make them think they have a chance to escape only to catch them later, crushing their spirits

epel felmier wants to be told he’s strong, he’s manly, he’s his darling’s one and only. he’s grown up seeing the traditional quiet marriages of the people back in his village, and he fully believes he’ll play the role of the supporting, strong, capable man to his darling, meanwhile they’ll be his domestic and pliant spouse (regardless of his darling’s gender). he may use his innocent appearance to fool them into his trap, and then use any means possible to keep them, from mild poisons in food he brings to spells that make their body lock up. he luckily isn’t one for physical punishments, but that can change if his darling tries to insult him or imply he’s effeminate or weak.

idia shroud is a creep. he spies on his darling with the campus security cameras, he sends small drones to spy on them sleeping, when he dares venture out to the campus he nervously pockets their belongings and builds a literal shrine to them. he might even use ortho to lure them into his room- and once they seem to trust him just a little, he strikes and keeps them locked inside. idia is so very aware his darling thinks he’s a weirdo and a creep, but he still wants their affection. idia may force his darling into cosplays of his favourite characters, using empty blackmail threats or threatening to somehow hurt or sabotage the people they care about using his borderline horrifying technological creations. he even uses ortho as leverage, telling them that if they keep acting that way and crying they’re going to worry the small child who sees them as another sibling figure

malleus draconia has never felt this way before and all he knows is he feels a need to keep and protect. his dragon’s instincts are to hoard his treasure, and his darling is the most precious thing to him. malleus keeps his darling captive as part of that hoarding instinct, although he does crave genuine love and becomes frustrated and angry when he doesn’t receive it. if he’s angered enough, malleus might have outbursts where his darling is seriously hurt- although he’ll be very guilty later. he’s very, very jealous of anyone who gets close to his darling, and he really might turn them into a pile of ashes if they irk him wrong. he has his guards and lilia making sure his darling doesn’t run away, although more often than not that’s not even possible with the sleeping curses he puts on his darling while he’s away

lilia vanrouge has been alive for long enough to know he can get away with pretty much anything, and so he really won’t hold back. he’s a sadistic lover, but more than teasing or being mean it’s sometimes him downright enjoying his darling’s pain and misery. he has enough experience to know exactly what to do to make his darling do what he wants without them even realizing they’re playing right into his tricks, and if not, he’s never afraid to come back home a little bit bloody and make his darling guess who he got rid of because they refused to behave. lilia can keep his darling about anywhere; he’s experienced enough with teleportation magic to switch back and forth from NRC to wherever he pleases, but it’s more likely he’ll keep them in his dorm room so he can “play family” with malleus, silver, and his unwilling darling.

silver is just doing what his heart tells him, unaware his love is an obsession. being raised by fae, he isn’t 100% of how human romance and courtship works, and it doesn’t really help his parental figures are either clueless in love or twisted enough to encourage his obsession. silver doesn’t want to punish his darling or bring them harm, but he’s ruthless on those he thinks are threats or are trying to tear him and his darling apart. malleus and lilia let him keep his darling locked in diasomnia, even offering to help keep them locked in when silver falls victim to his sleep. of course, the one thing silver wants is affection and warmth- the kindness and sweetness with which he treats his darling are so contrasting to how ruthlessly he kidnapped them that it’s almost painful to see his sad face when they refuse to embrace him

sebek zigvolt is mad. he’s mad that someone is causing him to be confused and distracted, that he can’t properly protect malleus because his heart is going wild at the thought of some silly human. he takes this anger out on his darling; they think he hates them, at first. but the stares, the blush, the fact he’s stealing their personal belongings, smelling their sweaters he stole before he goes to sleep tell another story. and yet he’s mad; when he kidnaped them, he locks them up, telling them he’s punishing them for distracting him. over time, he’ll give in, once his thirst for affection and for holding his darling override his initial anger. but that won’t change much- he’ll still be controlling, very violent when angered, despite him drinking up their praise and basically begging for their affection

#yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere tw #death ment #blood ment #drug tw

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dramarants · 4 years ago

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February Watchlist

Completed:

Run On

It’s slow, the characters can be kooky and awkward, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. A translator and a runner cross paths but it’s about communication, values, healing, family, duty, and so much more. Excellent side characters and arcs. 10/10 slice of life-esque rom com and that’s that.

Queen Cheorin

I know you saw the gifsets on your dash and how much the last episode upset ppl but this body swap, time slip crownery (👑🤡) rom com is so worth it. Great humor, fun characters, fantastic acting, solid tropes and romance, I came into it expecting it to be overhyped but it was a quality watch + plus excellent (sorta) queer rep! 🏳️‍🌈 8/10

The Tale of Nokdu

Historical rom com ft a man hiding as a woman to discover why assassins targeted his family (you know the drill). I wanted a light watch and unexpectedly, genuinely enjoyed it. I felt major crownery fatigue in the second half though, prolly because the other dynamics on the show were so much more interesting. Great female characters! 7/10

Mystic Pop Up Bar

Fantasy found family anyone?? Not my preferred genre but I wanted something low commitment and breezed right through. A spirit settles grudges to move to the afterlife. Sageuk elements, pretty visuals (the FL’s character design 👌👌). The show is predictable but fun since it doesn't take itself too seriously! 7/10

Uncanny Counter

It’s like Mystic Pop Up Bar but no historical aspect or ghost therapy and elevated™️. Grungy action fantasy ft. interesting world building, political villains, creepy evil sprits, detective work, red tracksuits, top notch found family (across realms!), and cool visuals. Excited for season 2! 8/10

The School Nurse Files

Tbh I’m still not sure what I watched or if I enjoyed it. A nurse sees jelly creatures and gets them with a toy sword. Poor world building and unclear, jumpy narrative for someone who never read the manga, but it’s short and mindless so it’s easy to finish. Unique slice of life meets superhero vibe. Some cute moments and visuals like A-reum’s arc and the nighttime whale. Appreciated seeing Nam Joo Hyuk as an older character and that his disability never magically gets better. 5.5/10

Two Cops

Fantasy action drama about a detective and a con man’s spirit joining forces, worth watching for Jo Jung Suk and Kim Seon Ho only. Nothing fancy or unexpected. Female lead is a totally 2D character. JJS and KSH’s dimples steal the show. 6/10 overall quality, 8/10 personal enjoyment

I dropped Lovestruck in the City but I only have a few episodes left so I might suck it up and get it over with.

Started: It’s Okay That’s Love

I think I overhyped this for myself. Psychologist meets crime thriller writer with his own baggage. I love the premise but I’m halfway through and the writing + female lead character is getting annoying. It’s just #olderdramaproblems (prolly) but I’m interested to see how things play out when all is revealed!

Into The Ring

Light rom com vibes. A bubbly, spunky girl struggling professionally runs for local office ft childhood friend to lovers trope. I’m still fairly early in the show but I’m liking it so far!

Airing: Vincenzo

That first episode was kinda all over the place and very slow, but I’m gonna give it a chance.

2 Days 1 Night

[variety show] Sometimes I wonder if I just like watching Seon Ho’s face but then a fantastic ep where the whole cast makes me double over laughing airs and I remember why I fell in love with the show in the first place. Message @1n2d-s4 to join the discord server!

Let me know what you’ve been watching lately - looking for more airing shows so I don’t keep bingewatching!

#watchlist #kdrama recs #kdrama recommendations #kdrama review #run on #mr. queen #queen cheorin #the tale of nokdu #tale of nokdu #mystic pop up bar #uncanny counter #the school nurse files #two cops #it's okay that's love #into the ring #vincenzo #2d1n s4 #kdrama #currently watching

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moody-bloosh · 5 years ago

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Hello, may I request LA squadra meeting a new member who is a slime who would turn into a blob/melt whenever they're relaxing and is an airhead?(literally), how would the gang teach her humans things?

sure thing anon! wahh this is so interesting lol! I tried to give this one a long ass title like the ones in the light novels 😂 i had a lot of fun writing this!!!

La Squadra And Their New Member Who is a Slime

You were lounging on a chair with a wonderful view of the river, the sun was shining, birds were singing, and the cool spring breeze hit you just right. You couldn’t help it. It was a bad habit, you knew it very well. But that was the thing with habits, sometimes you found yourself doing it.

Leaning back in your chair, you found yourself melting back into your much comfortable blob form. Just as a breath of relief was about to leave your lips, you heard a strange noise that was somewhere in between a strangled choke and a scream.

Shit.

Had a human spotted you? No matter, it wasn’t like they could kill you or anything. Physical attacks were nothing against a slime. With the thought that you could return to your careless afternoon after you took care of the pesky human that caught you in your head, you moved to attack.

The thing about being an ageless monster was that it was insanely easy to underestimate opponents. And this was how you found yourself being frozen in place, vulnerable.

This was your first meeting with Ghiaccio and it was through him that you found yourself entangled with the mysterious assassin team.

[how the team teaches you human things under the cut!]

Since Ghiaccio was the one who ‘defeated’ you, you attached yourself to him. At first, because you didn’t want him to brag about beating you. Then, it was because you just liked him.

Ghiaccio teaches you the concept of ‘friendship’. You find yourself ‘socializing’ with him. After a long day, you cling to him and tell him all about the strange things you’d learned from the other members of his gang.

He helps you process your day in a way. He isn’t the most patient person and he is prone to outbursts when he speaks to you but then again as a monster you don’t really understand Ghiaccio’s emotions.

He is loud and for someone like you who has spent such a long time in silence, he is a welcome reprieve.

So what if he was gruff and rough around the edges, you were soft enough to fill in those gaps.

The gang takes you with them on their hits, it’s far easier to dispose of a body and to leave no evidence when they had a walking disposal system like you.

Whenever he sees you in your “slovenly slime form,” Prosciutto takes it upon himself to scold you. He drills it into your head that you aren’t supposed to transform into your slime form while you are out in public. He teaches you etiquette, which you admit, you had shamefully forgotten. Living for a hundred years in solitude, devouring only animals and the occasional hapless witness to your true monstrous form left you essentially clueless to proper decorum.

A gourmet, Illuso takes you out to eat delicious things. Thanks to Prosciutto’s teachings you could finally be brought out to public. Illuso takes you with him to fancy restaurants where you devour each and every plate set before you. Your eyes widen and water as the different flavors play like fireworks in your gustatory system.

You find yourself becoming very fond of Illuso then and there. The new world of taste he had introduced to you was downright revolutionary as you’d spent most of your life not even knowing the concept of cooking.

Melone teaches you fashion. And for a slime like you, it is painfully easy to mimic clothes. You never even had to buy them. Sometimes Melone will turn you into his personal doll, he also has you transform into him on occasion with whatever wacky new outfit he had planned on getting just to see if it would suit him.

You learn to diversify your look because of Melone. He was right, a plain white frock was too simple for a wonderful and powerful monster like you.

You use the risque magazines that Formaggio lends you to figure out new methods of transformations. It always pleases you to see the stunned look on Formaggio’s face when he finds the latest Playboy model on his bed.

Your transformations are usually perfect save for the color of your eyes which somehow always stay an unnatural deep black shade. Still he wasn’t complaining. Formaggio was also the one of teaching you mostly about pop culture.

Pesci is in charge of teaching you slang. Which was something you hadn’t expected to pick up at all but you found yourself enjoying speaking to Pesci more than the other members. And you just somehow end up picking up on whatever new-fangled language the younguns were saying now.

Sorbet and Gelato show you the concept of skinship. You find yourself imitating them whenever you see them cuddling close together. Ghiaccio only flushes when you imitate the way Gelato sits on Sorbet’s lap.

Risotto does not outright teach you anything. If anything, you find yourself learning from him, a curious feeling for an ancient monster. You learn what it means to care, to care for things, to care for other people like the members of La Squadra. When Ghiaccio brought you home, he had been the one to have a final say as to whether or not you would be allowed to stay.

You were glad he let you stay.

Some days, you even felt human.

#la squadra di esecuzione #la squadra #Slime!Reader #ghiaccio x reader #risotto nero #ghiaccio #prosciutto #illuso #formaggio #sorbet and gelato #pesci #melone

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the-navistar-carol · 5 years ago

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Daminette Songfic — “Stronger” from Finding Neverland

Ok so technically this is a follow-up to my ‘Invisible Thread’ fic because 1) that BROKE 500 NOTES THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH and 2) literally everyone who reblogged or commented requested that to happen. There is a time jump from ‘Invisible Thread’ to here, because they know each others’ identities and are now currently dating.

This is nowhere near as good as ‘Invisible Thread’ and I can say that freely. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!! @ozmav @maribat-archive :)))

Before you read, trigger warning — death, gore, swearing.

In the darkest place is the faintest light

Gives me hope to face the hardest fight

Marinette. He had to get back to Marinette.

Hawkmoth would conquer all of Paris, maybe more.

The only person that stood in his way was Ladybug, was Marinette, his soulmate.

Damian cast a scorching glare around his surroundings. He stood in a cave, the only exit caved in. It was large enough for him to see the cavern around him, and too empty for his liking.

Stalactites thick around as his wrist hung from the ceiling, some of them reaching the floor as columns.

Someone had been elegant enough as to provide one, single, red LED lantern. Or, rather, it had fallen in with him. It sat tipped over five feet away, glowing like a sun.

The mark on his hand, usually pink, silver, and blue, was bathed in red.

Pain delivers me

His side flared, and it was only then that he remembered he’d been clawed.

Right.

Stripping off his shirt (it was too thin for the Parisian weather, anyway, and gray) he tore it to carefully bandage the injury, cleaning what he could.

Damn cats and their claws.

The white claw-tipped gloves had turned crimson and then a ruddy brown as they’d gone through his side.

And now he was here.

No matter. He’d worked through worse.

And he’d work through this.

I don't need their sympathy

Growling, Damian stalked over to the cave-in, surveying it for possible weaknesses.

He could’ve punted me into a place easier to escape from.

The rubble wasn’t evenly sized, all jagged and sharp, which was almost bothersome, but they formed a rough slope.

An endless Cataclysm would create problems.

Which it does.

So he set to work, flinging rocks away from the top by the white light of the lantern. Next camping trip, he would insist on the Coleman brand. They definitely worked.

The hole grew, slowly but steadily, and he worked through his pain and exhaustion.

Gonna have to try better than that.

Cause they can't take away my might

Where I go they will never find

The hole wouldn’t be more than a crawl space between the roof of the cave mouth and the rubble. It wouldn’t be comfortable, but it didn’t need to be.

He’d take a scraped back or battered hands if that was what it took.

Because that was what it took.

And he would take more.

For Gotham, for his family. For Paris, even if he didn’t really like the city.

For her.

The hole grew.

I've got to be stronger

Reach up higher

How far back did this blasted cave-in go?!

No matter how much he removed, hands bleeding on the tips of his fingers, on his palms, wrists, forearms, there was always another rock.

His soulmate mark was crusted in rusty brown. Its pretty colors could barely be seen.

He couldn’t let himself dwell on this. If he stopped to think, he’d be crushed.

Literally? Maybe.

The rocks digging into his spine, the backs of his ribs, they agreed with the sentiment.

Tch. He had had to prove himself to a good many things.

The rocks would be another one on that list.

Dumb rocks.

He’d move a mountain if that was what it took.

Must dig deeper

Find the fire

Finally.

Damian had never put any stock into the whole ‘light at the end of the tunnel’ thing. But now?

Now, as he crawled out of a hole in the ground, bleeding and covered in dirt, and into the fresh Parisian air, he believed it.

The young, green trees on the sides of the streets were still tied to their support poles. Rubble covered the paved streets, cars of all colors and sizes had been flung into buildings.

Bodies — bodies — littered the ground. Blood pooled in patches, rivers, trickles. No matter who or where, it was always the same deep red. Almost black, even.

His mouth dried, his tongue felt too large for his mouth. Hawkmoth hasn’t killed people before.

Ironic. The one person in charge of this damn mess was the one person (was he even a person?) he knew hadn’t ended a life.

Be enlightened

Can't be frightened anymore

His legs wobbled beneath him, so he picked up a wooden pole from where it had been uprooted, next to its slender, frail tree (the leaves were still green, but the birds’ nest had fallen, its eggs had cracked) for stability.

The birds wouldn’t return. Not without the Miraculous Cure, if it happened this time.

People had died this time. Maybe this time, Hawkmoth really was holding up to his promise that he would do anything to reach the Miraculi.

People died, he reminded himself with a snarl which was suspiciously animalistic. That woman with blonde hair, her glasses were shattered and blood stained the back of her hideous leopard-print blouse.

That man with the buzz-cut, he stared up at the sky with unseeing eyes as pale as the sky. They would see the sky no longer.

That child — that girl — lay in the middle of the road, half-curled into a ball. Her red hair spilled over her back, blending with the puncture wound through her chest.

Hawkmoth is going to fucking pay.

I can run now, so much faster

Now defeat won't be my master

Damian struggled on, his right hand clutching the pole and his left at his side, putting pressure on his injury. One step at a time.

The sounds of conflict grew now, and he picked up the pace.

Shouts echoed through the quiet streets of Paris (this quiet wasn’t because of peace, not anymore) of determination and rage.

Angel.

He saw a flash of blue and black, and heard a zap of electricity. The familiar whizz of a grapple sounded from above, and he was scooped up off the ground and launched into the air.

With a hiss of pain, he scrabbled in the grip until he realized the familiar person next to him was Nightwing.

“Keep calm, little D,” Nightwing murmured, and dropped him in an alleyway, away from the fighting.

“We’ve got to stop this.”

For to conquer the demons I won't have to wait any longer

I've got to be stronger

He wasn’t Robin right now. There was no cape behind him, nor military-grade boots on his feet. Not even a domino mask, to preserve his identity.

He wasn’t his mother’s assassin, either, perfectly poised and ready to strike with his injury.

He was only Damian Wayne, armed with a splintering garden pole.

But he pressed on, only determination, spite, and willpower left in his arsenal.

No fancy tricks or midair flips.

Just him.

You'll see in time

You will survive

He limped along the streets of Paris, heading straight for the fight. Well, not really. He had to take breaks when he felt like his side was on fire, which was a lot more than he was used to.

A red blur zoomed through the rooftops and he tensed, thinking it was another akuma of Hawkmoth — well, Scarlet Moth now — but when the figure landed before him, it was all he could do to not lurch into her arms.

Ladybug did it for him, squeezing him tight. He didn’t even complain when his side erupted, pole clattering to the ground as he returned the hug, arms twining around her.

“I thought you were dead,” she whispered, shaking her head. “But then Nightwing told me he found you. Rena is out of commission, and Carapace’ll follow soon.

“I need you, Damian. Not as Robin.”

She let go of him, standing straight, and held out a hand. In it rested a black octagonal box, red design twining across its facets.

“I present to you the Miraculous of the Tiger, which gives the power of invisibility. Your brothers are already outfitted.”

He took it without hesitation.

Too soon to run

Too late to hide

He didn’t even flinch when the kwami — Roaar — zoomed out in a burst of yellow light. When it dimmed, he spotted a black-and-yellow panjas bracelet, which he slipped on, listening to her.

“Who are you?” the kwami demanded, buzzing into his face, her tiny tail lashing. “You’re injured, you’ll never do!”

Ladybug frowned, shaking her head at the kwami. “Roaar. Leave your personal feelings out of this, he’s the only one who’d fit you.”

She sniffed, tiny fangs flashing, but turned to him anyway. “I assume you know the drill. For five minutes, you will become invisible with the command Hunter. All you have to do to transform is say stripes rise, and to detransform, it’s stripes fade.”

Damian nodded to Roaar. “I look forward to working with you.” At her nod of approval, he tightened his fist. “Roaar, stripes rise!”

In a flash of magenta light, his pain faded and new strength rose to take its place.

It's your destiny

Every pace, every strife

He grinned, feeling the sharpened teeth against his gums. Ladybug closed her eyes, let out a long breath, and unhooked her yo-yo. “Let’s get going.”

Roaar had given him a croquet-like mallet and discs on a belt, the mallet on his back like Chat Noir’s baton. His suit was red, black stripes offset by white criss-crossing his frame. The armor on it was lighter, surprisingly supple, and almost changed shades as he moved into the light. Combat boots similar to his Robin boots laced halfway up his shin, the suit’s gloves retaining the familiar fins.

Damian glanced into a shattered window, taking in his reflection. His hair was now shot through with red, almost like a tiger’s stripes. The domino mask across his face was like so, a deep auburn with the beginnings of white strips at its corners, and unlike Ladybug’s, two white fang-shaped crescents peeled down over his jawbone.

He unhooked the mallet, testing its weight. It was perfectly balanced, made of red material with, of course, black stripes running diagonally across its length.

“I agree. Let’s go.”

And he sprang into the air, super-charged with the kwami’s godlike strength, Ladybug zipping beside him on her yo-yo.

I am stronger

Reach up higher

Rena Rouge and Carapace were nowhere to be seen. A monkey hero wielding a staff had entered the fray aside Queen Bee, who could only have been Tim. An ox hero fought aside them, charging at akuma in his way — Jason. Clones of a rooster hero, however odd, fought with only the acrobatics of Dick.

A smile almost tugged its way onto his face. They were here. His brothers, they were here.

Scarlet Moth and Mayura — or the akumatized Catalyst — were nowhere to be found.

His feeling of something close to pride was shot down as Queen Bee screamed, Ladybug’s eyes widening as a white (and now rusty red) figure shot through their ranks, white claws turning red as they dug into her side.

Chat Blanc.

Fury twisted his insides, and he leaped down, hefting one of the discs. Trusting in the Miraculous, he tossed it into the air and whacked it with the mallet, sending it flying.

The disc shot through akuma like a rebounding chakram, smashing bones, armor, and akumatized objects at will, and struck Chat Blank in the back with a solid crunch.

Digging deeper

Find the fire

Chat Blanc fell, scrabbling at the ground. Damian snagged his ring with a sneer, smashing the center gem. An akuma flitted out, which Ladybug purified. He tucked the ring into a pocket, for her to take to the master later.

Queen Bee had fallen, Tim getting her to safety as Jason and Dick closed ranks around him and Ladybug.

“I see you’ve got a new outfit, little D,” Dick grinned.

“Tt. It has a better look than that ridiculous color scheme of yours.”

“Ah, you’re just jealous.”

“Compare sizes later, boys,” Ladybug ordered, yo-yo spinning. “We’ve got a job to do.”

“Can do,” Dick replied cheerily, readying his balero.

The akuma ran at them, and Jason, with the fortitude of the Ox, met them in stride, plowing through their ranks like, well, a bull in a china shop.

He fought akuma after akuma, breaking object after object as the three brothers — four as soon as Tim returned — made a circle around Ladybug, who purified the akuma.

Rena Rouge returned to the fight, joining their fight, but Carapace and Queen Bee were nowhere to be seen. “Carapace is taking care of Queenie,” she relayed. “They’re safe.”

Were they?

Feel enlightened

Won't be frightened, anymore

Finally — finally — they stood up against none. A lone scarlet butterfly flitted into view, catching Ladybug’s eye. She purified it, then began to zip in the direction from where it had come. The brothers followed her, trusting in her judgement as Scarlet Moth sent out another red akuma, purified it, and followed its course again.

One way or another, they would find Hawkmoth.

A beeping from Tim’s circlet alerted him that he was about to transform back, so he fell back, promising to catch up.

The team found themselves staring at Agreste Mansion, as fury built in Damian. Ladybug’s yo-yo whizzed by, catching another akuma as it flitted from the window.

“Damn him,” growled Jason. “Go fucking figure.”

She said nothing, merely readied her yo-yo and launched herself skyward, only to shatter the window of Hawkmoth’s lair. The three brothers and Rena thudded down beside her, ready for justice.

I can run now

So much faster

It was five on two. Hawkmoth never stood a chance. He was first rammed into the wall by Jason, Catalyst attacked by Rena and Jason at once.

Jason stepped aside to let Damian deal his blows, and then he, too, stood to the side as Ladybug stood over the weakened Hawkmoth, no sneer on her face.

Instead, it was almost… one of pity.

Rena Rouge yanked Catalyst’s akumatized iPad away, smashing it. The akuma form bubbled away to reveal Nathalie Sancour, a flickering Peacock Miraculous on her chest. She gently unclasped it, cradling the pin in her hands.

She crouched, and removed the brooch of the Butterfly. A purple light flashed, and Gabriel Agreste lay at her feet. One blow from Jason sent him unconscious.

The fox superheroine handed Ladybug the Peacock Miraculous, and the red-themed superheroine gave her a nod of thanks. “Rooster, alert the police.”

Dick saluted, and bounded out the window.

Now defeat won't be my master

They were done. They were done.

As the last traces of Miraculous Ladybug swept across the skies of Paris, the four Gothamites and the four Parisians stood on the top of the rooftops in wonder.

“Your Miraculi, please.” Ladybug’s voice was thick as the Butterfly, Peacock, and Black Cat kwami floated at her shoulders, almost melancholy that this would end.

“Orikko, end my cry.”

“Xuppu, show’s over.”

“Stompp, rampage’s done.”

“Roaar, stripes fade.”

The four sons of Bruce Wayne stood on the rooftop, Queen Bee nodding. “I thought she might pick you guys.”

“Wayzz, shell off.”

“Trixx, let’s rest.”

“Pollen, buzz off.”

Alya Césaire, Nino Lahiffe, and Chloé Bourgeois stood before them, kwami at their shoulder.

They looked to Ladybug, who gazed at them back with tears in her eyes.

“Tikki, spots off.”

For to conquer the demons

I won't have to wait any longer

Summer had begun. Paris was beginning to heal. Gabriel and Nathalie were imprisoned, as was Lila. Adrien was sent to live with his uncle in England, clearly getting the easy way out.

Alya, Nino, and Chloé walked out of school with Marinette, chatting happily amongst themselves. New earrings shone in Marinette’s ears, this time permanently jeweled in red-and-black. In fact, the four all carried tokens similar to their Miraculi, some subtler than others.

The Wayne boys met them at the bottom of the stairs, eager for a new start.

Damian pulled Marinette into a searing kiss, and his soul mark warmed against her jawline, her own happily tingling as she snaked her arm around his neck, deepening the kiss.

Alya’s palm flashed green and blue as she snapped a picture on her camera, Nino’s shimmering orange and white when he pushed up his glasses.

Chloé’s soul mark was clear for the world to see on her right shoulder, red and gold and black starkly contrasting with her white strapless crop-top. Kagami, happy to be out of her mother’s clutches for once, waved a greeting with her yellow-and-black hand.

They could finally, finally come out on top.

They weren’t perfect, but they were better than when they had begun.

I am stronger

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zmediaoutlet · 4 years ago

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in support of Black Lives Matter, @manawhaat donated $10, and requested Sam Wilson, thinking about BLM. Thank you for donating!

to get your own personalized fic, please see this post. (no longer taking prompts)

Their training compound’s in Kansas, of all places. “Isn’t Superman from Kansas?” Bucky had said, quiet, when they got there, and Sam had fully turned around in the van and said, “Hang on, how do you know about Superman?” and Bucky had given him a rare spark of actual personality and said, “I’m from the ‘40s, not the 1840s,” and Sam had rolled his eyes but responded that, yes, Superman allegedly grew up in Kansas. Problem was that Superman wasn’t real. He just hung out in the comics and he had it easy, beacon of light and apple pie and the American Way, and Sam--shiny star on his shield or no--Sam was just... Sam. As for the American Way--

Bucky doesn’t seem to care. Then again, Bucky doesn’t seem to care about much. “Do it again,” he says, squinting. Sam takes a breath, takes the shield heavy in both hands. Vibranium’s as breathtakingly light as it is strong, but still, tossing a massive hunk of it around like a fancy frisbee has been taking some getting used to. He sights the target, how Bucky’s aiming his shot, and throws--and it hits mostly on-center on the first target, bounces a little off on the second, and then--shit, goes wild, and Bucky jumps and catches it with his vibranium hand, a gonging sound resonating through the practice gym.

“Damn it,” Sam sighs.

Bucky shrugs one shoulder. “Better,” he says. Economical with words, this guy. “You’ll get there.”

Sam drags a hand over his head. “You’re there now,” he says, and it’s bitter like he tries not to let out. “Cap should’ve chosen you.”

Bucky tosses the shield back to him, easy throw, and Sam catches it by the handles. “You’re Cap,” he says. Flat but steady. He nods at the shield. “It fits.”

Sam rotates the shield in his hands, looking at the burnished front. That’s him, he thinks. Red, white, and blue.

It’s harder and harder, every day. To stay here. To train. “We have to be ready,” Bucky says, and Sam knows that. There’s so much that needs to be done he feels like the world’s drowning, but there’s T’Challa and Wanda and Scott and that spiderkid in New York, and they’re doing what they can. Sam’s been Falcon for years, and before that he was a soldier--he knows that someone coming in and fumblingly trying to help just tends to screw things up more than it helps. The country doesn’t need Falcon, right now--they need their Captain. It’s been drilled into him often enough and on his better days, he believes it.

These are not better days.

The compound’s in Kansas, miles from everything. With Pepper outfitting the place with the finest tech Stark Industries had to offer, they’re hyperconnected to the rest of the world despite the distance. Means that from the living area, sitting on his ass with his hands over his mouth, Sam can see live feed from every city in the country. Every news story. Every march. Every mama who lost her baby, weeping on the national news, asking why, why. Every kid, standing up with their mask on, raising the fist of pride high--getting a rubber bullet to the eye, a baton to the head, coughing in clouds of tear gas lit in the night by flares. He cried, the first time. He’s too wrung out to cry now.

“We should train,” Bucky says, somewhere behind him.

Sam closes his eyes. “Not now, man,” he says, and there’s quiet.

The news feed keeps going, brutal. At least thirty protesters have been arrested tonight in Birmingham, after defacing a Confederate memorial dedicated to--

“Mute the TV,” Bucky says, and the house obediently goes silent. StarkTech. The whole place, wired up and ultramodern and serving them every comfort, when all around the country--shit, the world, because there were those people standing with their eyes streaming in London, in Sao Paolo, in Dakar--they’re fighting. And he’s just--

“Sam,” Bucky says. Sam opens his eyes and finds Bucky there on the other side of the couch. His hair’s dragged back in a ponytail and he’s wearing a t-shirt and sweats, but even dressed down for training Sam can’t get away from how he looks--unearthly. Something about his eyes.

“The Avengers should be able to do something,” Sam says. That feeling in his chest--that forever feeling--being discounted, looked down on, spat on, fucked over--those years of looking over his shoulder, of smiling and playing polite--to be safe, and now he’s the safest bastard in the world, when he should be-- “We could go out there. We could protect those kids. Those--god, those old men. You think if we brought out the whole team, in D.C. or Seattle, those cops wouldn’t drop their weapons and run?”

“They probably would,” Bucky says. Even. “Would that do it?”

“It’d save some of them,” Sam says, and he knows it’s true. He also knows--he shakes his head. The Avengers... they weren’t built for this. Alien invasion, wormholes opening in the sky, world war--that’s their game. The superhero game. He leans forward, watching the silent footage on the television. “I could fly in there and snatch up one of those brutal cops, and you know what’d happen? His replacement would be in there the next day.”

“Systemic,” Bucky says. “Right?”

Sam snorts. They’ve been working on Bucky’s modern knowledge. “Yeah, that’s right,” Sam says, dropping his head. His shoulders hurt. His whole body, tense and aching as a bruise. “Systemic. Good vocab word.”

Bucky sits with him. Sam tries breathing. He was a counselor, he knows the techniques, but try as he might with slow exhales it just doesn’t work. It feels like a poison, trapped inside. “I’m supposed to be Captain America,” he says, finally. “Pepper’s gonna get me wings in red, white, and blue, and I’m gonna have a uniform with the stripes, and I’ve got the shield, and none of it matters, man. None of it. I’m just gonna be a symbol they put on t-shirts, and army recruiting posters, and cops are probably gonna have Cap hats on when they go out and--” He can’t finish the thought. It’s nauseating. He swallows. “And even--I mean, I thought, I’m a black man. I’m the enemy. So, I put on that uniform, are they just gonna say--oh, Cap’s just a PR stunt now, and discount everything we’re working for here? Or--will it be, oh, Cap, he’s great, he’s one of the good ones. He ain’t a thug like the rest. I won’t even be black anymore. I’ll be Captain America, and the rest of us will still be out there dying.”

The television goes to commercial. Mattresses. Apparently that’s the ad block that suits brutality. He says, “TV off,” and then it’s just the sleek, beautiful lounge, and the supersoldier assassin carved like a statue on the other couch, and Sam sitting there. The night outside feels like a prison.

“Steve never wanted to be Captain America,” Bucky says. He’s calm, his hands--one white, one black metal--laced at ease between his spread knees. “He just wanted to help people. He was nuts about it. Always picking fights bigger than he was.” Sam huffs, even if the weight’s still too hard to actually laugh. He’s seen the exhibit, in the Smithsonian. He knew the man. He can imagine. Bucky smiles--incredibly, even if it’s brief. “He told me later that he finally got it. What it meant. There were a lot of times he didn’t agree with what we were doing, as a country, or what we were ordered to do, or what people used his image for. But he realized eventually that Captain America didn’t work for any of them. He was meant to be a symbol of what we could be. What we hoped to be. What we had to work for.”

“A gorgeous white man with perfect blue eyes?” Sam says.

Bucky doesn’t roll his eyes, even if Sam’s being obtuse. “What do you think?”

Sam shakes his head. He looks at the shield, leaned up against the other chair where he dropped it, earlier. The star’s a little scuffed, from their training. “I think a country isn’t free until everyone in it is free,” he says. “And some things are going to have to break to achieve that freedom. And I’m not doing enough to help.”

Bucky nods. “TV on,” he says, and it’s still muted but the screens light up with news feeds. The crowds of kids, in black, pushing back against the riot gear. Medics in dirty t-shirts bandaging their friends. Umbrellas lifted above their heads, protecting themselves. “They’re fighting,” Bucky says, and Sam feels the heat rising up behind his eyes, watching. These kids. These fuckin’ kids.

“Sam,” Bucky says, and Sam looks at him, swallowing. “There’s a reason Cap holds a shield.”

Deep breath, in and out. “And you got my left?” Sam says, and Bucky shrugs, like, of course. Sam nods, watching the smoke rise. “Okay,” he says, and stands up. “Okay. Let’s go.”

#fffb #manawhaat #avengers fic #sam wilson #captain america #my writing #--wrote this per request but acknowledge i'm not a poc writer #hope it reads okay

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itsaidanblack · 5 years ago

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◦ × ♛ — intro.

⌠ JACK MULHERN, 23, MALE, HE/HIM ⌡ welcome back to gallagher academy, AIDAN BLACK! according to their records, they’re a THIRD year, specializing in KNIFE FIGHTING SKILLS, SWORD TRAINING, PRECISION SHOOTING, FIREARMS & SWAT TRAINING; and they DID go to a spy prep high school. when i see them walking around in the halls, i usually see a flash of (a sarcastic smile, the glint of silver rings, a cloud of cigarette smoke, graffiti on concrete, a flash of crimson). when it’s the (scorpio)’s birthday on 10/28/1998, they always request MOZZARELLA STICKS from the school’s chefs. looks like they’re well on their way to graduation. ⌿ lily, 19, she/her, gmt ⍀

@gallagherintro

♛ CONNECTIONS PAGE ♛ PINTEREST ♛ ABOUT ♛ STATS ♛ BIOGRAPHY ♛ INTRO ♛

hello hello! i’m back with another child, everyone welcome my british bastard boy aidan. he’s a legacy kid who grew up filthy rich but hates his family and his upbringing, and is just lil bit of a criminal, really!

[ c h a r a c t e r ; ]

&. basics

full name: Aidan Dean Black

nicknames: Dan, Danny

age: 22

orientation: bisexual

relationship status: single

date of birth: october 28th, 1998

hometown: windsor, england

gender: cismale

language(s) spoken: English, French, German

accent: standard british

&. personality

mbti: ISTP

temperament: phlegmatic/choleric

star sign: scorpio

element: water

enneagram type: type 4, the individualist

five positive traits: perceptive, intuitive, determined, independent, resourceful

five negative traits: destructive, pessimistic, blunt, aggressive, temperamental

likes: adrenaline rushes, spray-painting graffiti, hot drinks, going out in the middle of the night, the smell of gasoline, the night sky, knives, london, skateboarding.

dislikes: formal events, his parents, the color yellow, mushrooms, prejudiced people, heavy perfume

bad habits: smoking, doing drugs, drinking

hobbies: graffiti, skateboarding, drinking, getting high, sketching

fears: never amounting to anything, enclosed spaces, heights, needles

[ s t o r y ; ]

background:

aidan grew up in a filthy rich family of spies/assassins as the youngest of six children

his siblings are all very skilled in their respective areas of espionage, and their parents were ruthless and cold towards them to ensure they focused on their training

aidan’s great grandfather was the chief of intelligence at mi5 in the 1950s, so his family has a name and an image already set for them - prim, proper, and excelling in their own unique field of espionage

aidan grew up feeling inadequate - he wasn’t as good as any of his siblings, and his parents were merciless when it came to reminding him of the fact

his siblings weren’t much help either, trained to be the best, they only made his inadequacy more obvious the older they all got

his childhood was filled with training, fancy dinners, being forced to smile and meet friends of the family even if he was bruised and battered from training earlier

aidan began to become insolent, not showing up for training or deliberately failing his homeschooling to piss off his family

his parents were outraged and decided enough was enough, sending him away to a boarding school in america when he was 12

aidan, sick of feeling like he’d never amount to anything, decided to lean into his role as the black sheep of the family

he started to use what he’d been taught against the school, sneaking out at night, graffitiing the walls, stealing things from stores all around london

he actually loved his boarding school when he first began -- enjoying being away from his family, not compared to his siblings, and studying normal subjects instead of things like ‘which artery to sever for the swiftest death’

he amassed a small group of friends, impressing them with his training and ability to break into anything, win fights against the older students, and lockpick

he was able to avoid punishment for a while, and expulsion wasn’t an option when his parents were huge benefactors of the school

so the school adapted, became more vicious in their punishments

started refusing him meals, locking him in cupboards to keep him from sneaking out

and when he started picking the locks of the cupboards, they installed heavy duty padlocks against the doors

this is where he developed his claustrophobia, from being stuck in the closet sometimes even overnight in the pitch black

these punishments eventually wore him down enough that he stopped misbehaving so intensely at the school

and when his parents gave him the ultimatum -- attend a prep school for spies, or stay at the school, he agreed to finally behave and follow his parent’s path for him

despite his misbehaviour, aidan is still very good at what he does - call it genetics, but every member of their family excels at being spies or assassins

when he graduated his prep school with top marks, despite his past bad behaviour, his parents sent him to blackthorne to continue his studies, hoping that by the time he completes college he’ll be good enough to show off, like the rest of his siblings

during his time at prep school, he began to realize that he is bisexual, and fell in love with another legacy boy

their parents, though, were both intensely disapproving of both their sexualities and the relationship itself, and broke them up right before blackthorne

aidan now has a complex about love, and more specifically, the fact that he is incapable and unworthy of actual love

his first year at blackthorne went fine, and aidan actually enjoyed began to enjoy his studies, but he never stopped misbehaving, bitter from his childhood and his parents’ tampering of his relationship

( and also possibly just for the simple joy of constantly having reports sent home about his bad behaviour )

now:

don’t get me wrong - aidan is very good at what he does.

he’s quite the talented marksman and sharpshooter, and given a knife in a fight, he’ll most likely win

even without his legacy name he would have gotten a place at gallagher

he’s a bit of a bastard, at times, and a sullen one, too -- but he doesn’t mean anyone harm

he simply likes to always be honest and says things that are probably best left unsaid

he still sneaks out at night, often, to just be alone and roam around unsupervised, a remnant of both his childhood under constant surveillance, and his time at boarding school where nights were often spent locked in a cupboard

nasty smoking habit developed while at blackthorne, as well as his habit of getting drunk and/or high whenever possible in order to let loose

( he has a very unhealthy relationship with his emotions )

he loves to graffiti, and does so often, as an outlet for his creative drive and desire to vandalize things

but, all in all, he does really like it at gallagher, and doesn’t necessarily want to get kicked out, so he makes sure he’s subtle and not too destructive

he sometimes writes with his five older siblings, although most of them are as bad as his parents - he’s the closest to oscar, his second oldest brother, and kitty, his older sister

he wears a lot of blacks and grays, and basically dresses like an e-boy, but he may or may not stab you if you bring that up

he likes to sketch, but if you tell anyone that he’ll kill you, having had it drilled into him at a young age that art is useless and for people without real talent

he carries a gray butterfly knife around with him everywhere, as it was a gift from his eldest sister for his success at prep school

[ W A N T E D C O N N E C T I O N S ; ]

not-so-friendly ― while aidan is a very charming asshole, he is still sometimes the worst, and i can see a few people he pissed off or insulted or something

partners in crime ― aidan’s a little vagabond, and loves to graffiti stuff and sneak into places he’s not meant to be, and i want some people to get into deep shit with him

family friends ― the black family is quite high-profile, what with his parents running an empire and all of his older siblings being talented spies/assassins themselves, so i can imagine there’s a lot of people at gallagher that he recognizes

blackthorne friends ― aidan went to blackthorne for a year before gallagher, so i want some people who did the transfer with him.

friends ― he may act like an asshole, but he’s a nice asshole

family ― there’s probably a few people related to him roaming around, so if you want a cousin or something let me know!

please hit me up to plot !

#intro #gallagher:intro

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freudensteins-monster · 6 years ago

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“Masochism Tango”

The first time Bucky encountered Darcy was in a crowded Stark Tower elevator. She was teetering in a pair of fancy shoes, one of the heels of which tried to drill a hole into his right foot. He hadn’t wanted to her lose her balance and have to reach out and steady herself on Greg from IT, who was trying to stare down her top, so he had grit his teeth and glared at the creep until he got the hint and bailed the next time the doors opened.

The next time he encountered Darcy he had startled her in the kitchen early one morning and had ended up getting hot coffee spilled all down his front. It had hurt like hell but he’d just grimaced in the face of her profuse apologies, said “don’t worry about it”, and hid in his room until long after the burns had healed.

The next time it had been cold and possibly mouldy coffee. He’d been sent up to Banner’s lab for some thing or other and she’d walked right into him on her way to wash Jane’s collection of discarded coffee cups.

A week later he’d seen her at the gym and broken her nose. It was a complete accident, he swore; he hadn’t even been the one sparring with her. She had been working with Natalia on the mats while he had been arguing with Sam about something stupid in between sets. He’d gone to punch Sam in the arm and the next thing he knew Darcy was getting a metal elbow to the nose. She’d promptly kicked him in the family jewels in retaliation.

He stayed the hell away from all public areas after that, anywhere she might go, despite everyone saying he was “being ridiculous” and “overreacting”. Between that and a couple of out-the-country missions, he managed to go a whole two months before he saw her again.

“I’m not going.”

“Are you… are you pouting?” Sam laughed.

“No,” Bucky huffed, recrossing his arms.

“Yes,” Steve sighed. “Come on, Buck. This charity event has been on the books for weeks. You told Pepper you’d go. Are you really going to go back on your word?”

“Is she going to be there?” Both Steve and Sam shot him an exasperated look. “Then I’m not going.”

“Fine, then you have to tell Pepper that you can’t make it. In person,” Steve added sharply before Bucky could pass the message on via JARVIS.

“C’mon man, stop pouting. You’re a grown ass assassin, for crying out loud.”

“Bite me, Wilson,” Bucky growled.

Sam smirked, clapping Steve on the shoulder on his way out of Bucky’s apartment. “I’m going to go get ready. You deal with this.”

“Thanks. Thanks a lot,” Steve grumbled, eyeing his best friend as he tried to bury himself deeper into the couch. “Bucky, you’re being ridiculous. There’s going to be hundreds of people there; you probably won’t even see her.”

“With my luck? I’ll take that bet.”

“Fine. If you go and end up bumping into her again I’ll bring all your meals to you in your room - no more dragging you out of the tower for dinner - for a month. If you don’t,” Steve warned, “You come to every team dinner, and you come with me whenever I want to go out for a meal – no excuses – for two months.”

Bucky took more than a little pleasure in making a show of considering Steve’s offer for a solid minute before responding.

“Deal. But I’m not wearing a tie.”

Two hours later Bucky found himself lost in a sea of well-dressed bodies. He’d put in almost a full hour of mingling and glad-handing and resisting the urge to punch rich assholes in the face and figured not even Pepper would begrudge him making a quiet retreat. From his current position, the fastest way to the nearest exit was straight across the open floor, but the second he left the relative safety of the dining tables the music started up and he was surrounded on all sides by dancing couples. He tried to manoeuvre through them without making too much of a scene and made it to the middle of the room before he froze; Steve had lost the bet. It was like the crowd had parted and there was Darcy, in a blood red dress that left little to his imagination despite its modest cut, looking just as awkward as he felt trapped by all this happy couples. One such couple spun wide and practically pushed Darcy into his waiting arms.

“Care to dance?” seemed like the only thing to say under the circumstances.

“I don’t know,” Darcy teased. “Do you think we can make it to the end of the song without killing each other?”

Bucky laughed as he took her hand in his, shooting her a cocky smile straight out of the 1940’s. “Only one way to find out, doll.”

#i somehow sent myself my own ask #title popped into my head and ficcing happened #wintershock #darcy lewis #bucky barnes #freudensteins-fics

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silversunshine2012 · 6 years ago

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Assassin Logan AU

A/N: Hiii!! so this idea is credited to this post! from @bleepblopbloop56 This is just a small lil thing I wrote based off it and I may or may not do more but idk it depends. Anywhoodle I hope yall enjoy!! (I totally did not write this and some notes on it instead of doing school wtfdym????)

Agent Crofter,

We have intel that Brewers and Slythe are holding a large venue in their private building on 4th St tomorrow at 21:00. Our sources say that most of the attendees will likely have information in regards to their underground dealings. Your objective is to obtain one of these individuals and bring them in for questioning.

All other guests are to remain in tact, and oblivious. You know the drill. Everything you will need to gain access to the venue are enclosed. Stay vigil, Agent.

A.A.I.

Logan looked at the fake ID and invitation that had been sent by the Authorized Assassins Initiative. He sighed. Yet another social, “no blood” mission. He was honestly getting sick of these. He’d much rather do missions that involved simply breaking and entering, sneaking past or killing anyone in his way, getting the job over and done with, and leaving. Unfortunately, his new employers didn’t operate quite that way. He had to deal with far more “undercover” missions since working with the government. He burned the note, per procedure and protocol, then proceeded to ready himself for tomorrow’s events.

~~~

“Oh c’mon, Virgie, ya can’t just stay locked up in that dungeon you call your apartment!” said a voice on the other line.

“Yes, I can, Rem. And I plan on it. For a long time,” Virgil replied. His friend was currently trying to convince him to go to his party on the 20th floor, and Virgil repeatedly denied. He hated parties. Way too many people all getting drunk and talking about things he didn’t understand? Yeah. That sounded like a blast.

“Virgil, I swear, I am going to get you outta that rat’s nest. You need t’lighten up a lil! Tell ya what. You come tomorrow, and I leave you alone for a whooollee week,” the voice replied. Virgil could just hear the pretentious smirk in his voice, the one Remy always wore when he knew he’d worn someone down and was about to get his way.

“..A month.” A dramatic, offended scoff came from the other line.

“You hurt me Virgie! Two weeks.”

“Three.”

“Two, and I’ll throw in two large meat lover’s supreme and that coffee you liked so much.”

“Done.” Click.

Virgil hung his head and sighed. Damnit. He’d just agreed to go to a party for two weeks of peace and fancyass coffee. Well.. At least he’d have a decent amount of food for a little while.

~~~

Logan had gotten through the security without much of a problem. He only brought the invitation and identification as a back-up since he went in through the “back door” as they call it. He was currently at the party and donned a dark blue dress that complimented his form, according to Roman that is, and had a knife hidden on his person, strapped to his thigh under the dress.

He assessed his surroundings. The party seemed to take up the entire floor, and Logan made mental notes of all the different rooms, corners, crevices, etc. so as to have the ability to make use of them later on in the night. There was an open bar and buffet table brandished with all kinds of outlandish design and food, a large terrace/balcony with more fancy furnishings, more than one set of bathrooms including a few single stall rooms for nonbinary and transgendered individuals, a ballroom, and much more. The entire floor was crowded with people, most of which were enjoying the food, chatting it up with the other rich folk and boasting about this and that, and taking full advantage of the open bar.

Once Logan had the place mapped out, he began searching for a target. There was a man in a black suit with a deep purple dress shirt and no tie. The man stayed near the walls, as if trying to remain unseen. Logan frowned slightly. He seemed a bit.. Out of place. And yet he wore an expensive suit complete with slacks, shoes and jeweled cufflinks, and more importantly he was here. He must have the kind of info he needed. ..right?

(was asked to tag @serenitythepanther @ironwoman359 @ravenclawunicorn1 @unknownsandersfan )

#apologies that the time skips things aren't centered idk how to do that on tumblr #sunny writes #sry that it's short..#Assassin Logan AU

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godtricks · 5 years ago

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i know i asked qrow this, but i want to know if mercury's picked up any hobbies too. did he do any other jobs besides assassinations? is he proficient with any other weaponry ? does he have a favourite food / drink ?

ok so again i think the deal with mercury is that he never really. had his own time when he was a kid? he never did anything ‘for fun’ and generally grew up without any real idea of what ‘fun’ was so finding a hobby to keep him busy or to distract his mind wasn’t ever a priority when his father was drilling him in training or experimenting on his aura - however i do think that he took a strange comfort in cooking/the preparation of food? it would be one of the few times his father would leave him alone and honestly one of the few times he ever saw the man happy in some way or another with him. so yeah. cooking is probably the closest thing to a hobby mercury’s ever had. though it’s nothing fancy, you know? simple noodles or fried rice but it’s not so much what he’s making as much as it’s the fact that he’s making something, you know?

i think while assassinations were/would be his focus if he ever got away from cinder/salem, really he’d take on any job that paid enough money? ethics or reason don’t tend to factor into decisions like that so much as how much he’s getting paid for them does? he needs money, what he does to get that money doesn’t really bother him.

OK SO my main hc is that, while he specialises in hand to hand combat, there isn’t really any type of weapon mercury can’t use? he was brought up to be dangerous, to be a weapon and to be deadly when wielded by the right person so being useless with a weapon doesn’t help that fact. he’s resourceful and efficient, he can and will use anything as a weapon when he needs to. he could use a pen in a deadly way if the need arose and he could absolutely disarm an enemy and use their weaponry against them if he had enough prior knowledge on how said weaponry worked. his own weapon really only works as an extension of his already heightened ability with his kickboxing style rather than a weapon on its own - someone without his style wouldn’t really be able to wield it in an effective way like he can. really, he can use whatever you throw at him but the results will vary

anything sweet. he never had the typical treats one might have as a kid so honestly now that he has that freedom to eat/drink what he wants, mercury tends to go to town on the sugar? anything fizzy/an energy drink type thing and anything full of sugar is an absolute win for him tbh especially hard boiled sweets like sherbet lemons and that type of thing

#becomestorm #quoth the nev (OOC.)#ANSWERED.#HEADCANON.#UWU #bless u nine #coming in clutch

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sugapop-rp · 5 years ago

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*:･ﾟƜιѕнℓιѕтѕ Oƒ Ɯιѕнєѕ

⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ hi, hi! tis bunny anna here and i thought i would decide to make a little wishlist for my muses! i figured this might be handy for in the future because who knows right? so read below to see what i have in mind for my muse beans and if you are interested, please like this post and/or send me a message so we can chit chat about them :)

note:you do not have to be mutuals with me to do any of this (obviously lol), you can be a random peep passing by that is curious and that’s cool with me! you liking this means i shall be sending you a message instead thus make sure there is a way for me to do that (dm or ask). this will be also updated as time goes on depending on what new idea/muse i may have at the time

Choi Ha-joon, 26 and is an elementary school teacher

“muse a sings like an angel but is really shy so they only sing in the shower. everyday,muse b, who is their neighbor, listens to their singing and thinks muse a is actually a professional singer. one day they meet at the elevator of their building and muse b really wants to ask for muse a to sing a song for them, or just compliment them. but how will they do so without making things awkward? and to top this situation, muse a is also a lotattractive.“

give me that cliche old high school lovers see each other again after school by accident, the feels hit them once again and oof. make it angsty, make it fluffy, idc just give me some of that!

ha-joon is a book lover so what if ha-joon keeps coming to this book store that also involves your muse. they get to know each other for their enjoyment of books but the plot twist of this all is that ha-joon doens’t know your muse is not only an author but one of ha-joon’s favorite writers!

you left your USB flash drive in the library computer and i had to go through your files to figure out who you are and i ended up reading the entirety of this book you’re working on and wow you’re actually really good????

Kris Yamada, 26 and is an assassin

so lowkey when i made kris i got a bit inspired by the video game “assassin’s creed” so would be interested to do something loosely based around that. something like say your muse is working for the enemy organization that kris’s order doesn’t like. they meet and get closer (friendship or romantic, doesn’t matter) and go from there? very basic idea i know lol but can be fun i think!

give me assasin buddies, bro this is something that kris is in need of lol. sure he can be like a grouch sometimes but he knows how to have fun! he used to live the wild life so let’s do some wild friend antics lol

speaking of used too’s...why not bring something back from the past for kris? say maybe an old friend from kirs’s childhood? they can maybe meet on the street one day and they may want to ask questions because of kris suddenly dropping all contact? or we could do the more cliche idea of said friend is now a target and oops, now kris is stuck in an oopsie :’)

Song "Hayes" Hyeok, 26 and is an indie music producer.

hayes doesn’t have the best relationship with his parents (this can be read in his bio here) so maybe one day his parents may want to do a surprise visit because he does have good contact with his sister and she praised alot about him. his parents (specifically father) wants to see how “amazing hayes is doing”. cue hayes trying to make things not go south because his parents are not fans of the fact that hayes likes boys...so to see him having a boyfriend/fiance/husband may cause some problems to put it lightly. this could include hayes pretending not to be in a relationship with your muse or pretending they are just roommates. a bit of a heavy idea so far in this list, i know but it is something i would like to explore for hayes.

rival music producers, just give me some of that drama lol

a mentor type friendship where hayes could take in your muse under his wing to help them out in the music scene

“🌟–– we had a really ugly break-up and didn’t talk for a long time but oh hey, you’re at this party too and we’ve had a few drinks and now we’re kissing and … oh, all that wasn’t supposed to happen tonight but we’re sort of on better terms now and yikes!!! i might be falling for you again …”

“muse a is in an accident which leaves them without memory, and muse b had been on their way to break things off with their beloved muse a. when they arrive at the hospital the only thing muse a remembers is how in love they were with muse b, and muse b is forced to keep coming back to positive. muse b is trying to move on, trying to find a way to tell muse b that they want to leave them, but find themselves falling back in love withmuse a. muse a of course, eventually get their memories back, even the ones up until the last moments before the accident where they remember the fights and tension and out of the silence ask ‘youre leaving me arent you?’ but by this time muse b is entirely in love with muse a again, and muse a just feels hurt and decieved“

Sarla Dunnavant, 26 and is a businesswomen (no longer active)

give me that cliche idea of the businesswomen falling for their secretary or something similar, i’m weak for cliche’s and this one would be just fun as fudgecakes lmao.

enemies to lovers;your muse is a rival to sarla’s company and they sort of can’t stand each other ??? but like ??? respect each other at the same time ??? it’s weird but they think they cannot stand each other but one day during some business event, they find out they actually like each other and can get along (can be romantic or platonic)

based of this iconic post

ok hear me out...a sugar baby plot? it doesn’t have to be a schmexy plot either! it can be something like out of kindness (and boredom becuase what else can she do with her money) she will give gifts to your muse. like you want that fancy make up collection? alright, your college? paid off at the moment as we speak. want a lifetime supply of donuts? she can do just that. all she asks is to spend time with her and just chill out.

Angelica Heartorne, 25 and is a vampire huntress

legit anything vampire stuff related. i am not going to be flippen picky.

just because she IS a vampire huntress doesn’t mean it has to be ONLY to vampires. she is multiverse so she can be a hunter for anything supernatural really. this can be something discussed for sure but she is versatile, she doesn’t have to stick to only human like leeches lmao.

a bit of a weird but funny idea that jsut came to mind? but what happens if angelica was dating someone right? but what if that person she was dating...was a vampire and she had no idea about this until by accident or something? please this sounds hilarious to me and would love to rp this out.

“ muse a enters a coffee shop and was in such a rush that she forgot her wallet, as she explains what happened to the worker and ask for them to cancel her order, then suddenly there’s a hand that hoovers over her head and money is slapped on the counter incoming muse b paying for her. muse a is like wHAT THE FUCK ! I AM AN INDEPENDENT WOMEN I DONT NEED ANYONE TO PAY FOR ME, but she turns around and meets eyes with muse b who is beyond attractive. muse a then stumbles and ask how she could repay muse b and he tells her to sit down and enjoy her coffee with him “

“you said you’d call me in the morning but the voicemail you left had her voice in the background”

“ Humans start out at birth with milk white blood. The more crimes they commit, the darker their blood becomes. One day, you meet your soulmate. Skip a few years, and things are amazing… Until your soulmate trips, falls, and exposes black blood… “

based off this post

Jeong Jin-Gi, 25 and is an indie artist

“ Don’t give me one-sided unrequited love, give me two-sided unwanted love. Both sides are deeply in love with the other and both sides are like ‘fuck, really?? them??? really?’ “

“ ok so hear a sister out… i want an actual HEART WRENCHING celebrity & non - celebrity thread. like muse a meeting muse b in the most random place and muse b KNOWS muse a is famous but they’re not gonna say anything but on the inside they’re secretly freaking out. but they get to talking & muse b kinda forgets that they are because they’re just so normal and they have so much fun talking to them, and muse ahas a rich lifestyle & is the most popular person in the world, yet the only thing they wanna do is be with muse b. but dating the most famous person ever comes with the DISADVANTAGES. i want the ugly stans drilling them over dating their favorite star, i want the paparazzi making up stories about muse b & giving the constant break up - conspiracy’s, i want the late night drama filled phone - calls about “ maybe this is just too much for me “ & muse b seeing muse a in a new picture released with ANOTHER apparent love interest, and i want new songs released by muse a that’s a little T O O emotional to just be a careless piece of work. i just want the constant back & forth between them & them wondering if their love is strong enough to overcome the difficulties or if all they are is a love that was never meant to last. “

jin ain’t no angel, he’s a bit of a person with an addiction to drgs so give me anything surrounding that. dealers or pals that find out about his addiction, anything really. just want to dive deeper into this side of jin

“i’m trying to start a celebrity gossip blog and you are an effing trainwreck so now i’m lowkey stalking you in hopes of getting a humiliating story” au

plot idea : muse a was a punk, and muse b did ballet. what more can i say? muse a wanted muse b, but muse b would never that secretly she wanted muse a as well. all of muse b’s friends stuck up their nose because they had a problem with muse a’s baggy clothes. five years from now, muse b sits at home. feeding the baby they’re all alone. b turns on tv, and guess who she sees? muse a rocking on mtv.

James Yeeun, 22 and is an art student in college

“im gonna claw myself apart. we watch netflix together and i keep a respectful and responsible distance; you lean against me to pause the screen. ask if i want cookies. i can’t stop staring at your lips. what? i say. i knew what you’d asked me even as you ask again, i just don’t want the moment to end. we’re just friends. we’re just friends.”

okay but how about an “i’m in my twenties and sick of still being a virgin, so one night when i’m drunk i think it’s a good idea to dm my old celebrity crush who is no longer really that famous anyway and ask them to take my virginity – wait why did they just dm me back?? giving me their number?? i don’t even remember doing this” au

“You kissed me on the playground the day before you moved away in the 4th grade and now your dorm is right across the hall from mine” AU

would love to do something where james could realize he DOES like boys as well. this is something he isn’t sure off himself so i would like to dive into this background of james.

so i was watching tiktoks last night and i’ve came across this story time and would love a plot for it… so muse a had a bad childhood for varies of reasons one thing lead to another and they were kicked out of the house, so they ended up couch surfing.. this enters their fear of the dark because they would wake up in the middle of the night not knowing where they are and everything is just dark and scary, so they begin sleeping with night lights or any sort of light that they have. well moving into college means roommates and muse a is too embarrassed to mention how they’re scared of the dark to their roommate. so first night, muse a wakes up screaming and enters muse b aka their roommate into their room and they’re like ?? are you good? finally muse a breaks and tells muse b what happened to them and then next night muse a finds a night light in their room, however, that night they still wake up screaming. muse b wakes up as well and just tell them that they’re ok and that they got them.. second year of college goes by and they’re not roommates anymore. first night moving in, it happens again.. muse a wakes up screaming only to find that muse b texted them that ‘they’re in their new apartment and that everything is going to be okay.’ it could turn into beautiful friendship or maybe something more?? i just want it pls

Rose Price, 23 and is a rebel along with school drop out

lowkey i legit got inspired by the video game character “chloe” from “life is strange” but i decided to do my take of chloe if that makes sense so...rachel amber inspired plot xD to those that are a bit confused, rachel amber the character is someone chloe befriends during her time when life is a bit downhill to put it lightly. they get close (some would say even romantic) and up until the final years of high school...rachel is gone. now in the games, rachel isn’t alive BUT i was thinking why not twist this around? make said missing friend (this would be your muse) show up out of the blue? with no answer as to why they just “left” and simply goes back to how things were.

“gimme muse a just finished their sentence in jail and they lost contact with most of the people in their former life. on the day of his release, the gate pulls back and their high school sweetheart who they lost contact with years ago muse b is in the parking lot. “

“i drove two hours to the closest video rental store that’s still operating and you were checking out the only copy of the movie i was after“

“we both decided to take a [yoga/fencing/cooking etc] class and we’re the only two assholes not taking it seriously and everyone else is giving us dirty looks but we keep grinning over at each other“

jsut give me any fxf plot ideas man. i want rose to get some love :(

Daehwi Goe, 24 and is an indie video game creator/works at a cafe

" give me a plot where both muses are each other’s pen pals that end up falling in love through letters please. threads would be in letter format up until they finally meet each other. please. “

“ imagine that you’ve been stood up by your douche of a boyfriend on date night and the waitress keeps asking if you’re ready to order but you keep asking for more time hoping that he’s just late. people are starting to look at you with those apologetic looks like they know and you start to feel worse and worse about the whole situation but as you decide to just get up and leave, this boy you’ve never seen sits down explaining loudly “sorry i’m so late, babe, traffic is crazy right now.” and he quietly adds, “i’m Michael. just go with it, yeah? whoever didn’t bother to show up is a dick.” and so you do go with it because he’s being sweet and trying to save you (and plus he’s the cutest thing you’ve ever seen) and as you’re leaving the restaurant after the best non-planned date ever, he asks you out for real this time. “

“ AFTER MONTHS YEARS OF REPORTING TO A JOB THAT ABSOLUTELY KILLS MY SOUL, I FINALLY QUIT! WITH NO BACKUP PLAN OR WAY TO PAY MY BILLS ONCE NEXT MONTH IS OVER, I WALKED DANCED OUT OF MY WORKPLACE WITH THE BIGGEST SMILE ON MY FACE.. BUT NOW REALITY IS SINKING IN, THAT I’VE JUST DONE SOMETHING CRAZY IMPULSIVE AND OMG YOU’RE WATCHING ME SPIRAL OVER WHAT A MISTAKE I’VE JUST MADE AND YOU’RE SO SWEET TO OFFER TO BUY ME A DRINK BECAUSE I SURE AF CANNOT AFFORD ONE. “

“we broke up right before a giant roadtrip our friends planned and we don’t want to bail on everyone and ruin the trip so yay, looks like we get to spend a five hour drive and a weekend in a cottage together.”

Adagio Seo, 20 and is a warlock

just give me that chilling adventure’s of sabrina plots man...it’s why adagio was even made lmao.

adagio while yes, i did made him specifically for that show universe, just like angelica he is mulitverse so he’s not off limits to that show only. if you want him to be in a harry potter au? cool with me. a normal college au? also cool with me. want to go full on twlight, even better lmao. just because he is mostly for the show, doesn’t mean he’s not expandable :)

“ does the “i slept with you the other day and i didnt know we had a mutual friend and now we’re sitting across each other for brunch and it’s awkward because i ran out when you were asleep” au exist bc i need that fic “

ok so adagio has an interest of necromancy but like the thing is he’s bad...like really bad at necromancy lmao (there’s a reason he skills in herbal) so like just give the whacky shiz that can happen when doing necromancy wrong.

basically anything warlock/witch plots, throw them my way! want my wild warlock to have some love :(

Simone Hines, 22 and is a worker at the garden section of homdepot

the happy florist who delivers one flower to the boss of the hardcore law firm across the street everyday, just to make their day a little bit brighter

plot #001: in which muse a is really insecure and struggles with their self-esteem, so muse b, their best friend, starts secretly sending notes with all the reasons to love them.

plot #013: one day, muse a wakes up and finds themself to be in the future, seemingly married to their high school enemy, muse b.

any plot with a soft, sweet, submissive male that needs to be protected at all costs because he’s naive and doesn’t know how to speak up for himself with a girl that’s dominant, rough around the edges, not afraid of anything, and is ready to take on the world.

tbh i just need a long distance relationship plot where they cry on skype bc they miss each other so much and they have passive aggressive texts bc of what’s on each others snapchat stories but then the fluffy moments when they see each other at the airport and all the desperate please don’t leave me again sex and i just need a long distance plot

Levi Kim, 24 and owns his own cafe

highkey want a ‘someone wrote your phone number on the wall of a bathroom in my dorm with ‘call for a good time’ and i just texted you to let you know that i scribbled it out and oh wait you’re actually funny and easy to talk to and now we’re talking every day and i might have a tiny little crush on you even tho i don’t even know your name’ plot

i got up at 2 am to get some snacks at the convenience store down the street and opened my door to find you trying to sleep on the floor of the hallway because your roommate has his fiancée over so i guess i’ll lend you my couch for the night AU

it’s 3 am and you’re blasting off classic rock at full volume and your music taste might be awesome but sOME PEOPLE ARE TRYING TO FUCKING SLEEP YOU SHITHEAD

utterly obsessed with the niche but incredibly romantic concept that is “late night radio show host falls hopelessly in love with and pines for recurring caller, oblivious to the fact that the person calling in whenever they’re on air is also in love with and pining for them after finding comfort in listening to their voice every night on their long commutes home”

Park Hades, 23 and is next in line for the Park corporations/modern day greek god hades

look i’m glad you have a healthy sex life and all but will you please try not to pierce a whole through my ceiling with your bed thanks

i have a policy of not giving my real name on dating apps and apparently you do the same. we have a good conversation so we decide to meet, but oh no … it turns out you’re my ex. yikes!!!

#indie rp #krp #plot wishlist #thread wishlist #wanted opposite #indie krp #{ bunny anna's wishy list }

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