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heniareth · 1 year

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Find The Word (long)

I have been tagged by multiple people and have decided to dump it all into one huge post in no particular order and from all parts of the story. Enjoy the madness! XD XD XD

CW for canon-typical violence and fantasy racism

@wild-houseplant thank you for the tag!! I can show off two snippets from the next section and one with Sten which makes me. Very happy XD XD XD

Wrap

Astala stared at his foot. It was filthy with mud, and through the Dalish foot-wrappings she saw a bit of blood gathering between his toes.

“Why didn’t you put your boots on?”

“Does that matter?” Ilanlas groaned. “The harm is done.”

He looked left and right, wobbling in place. Finally, he sighed.

“I need help.”

“Sure.” Astala stretched her hand out to steady him. Halfway through the motion, she stopped. “Oh. Wait. Now you want my help, huh?”

Ilanlas gave her a glowering stare and opened his mouth.

“Oh no,” Astala hissed. “You’ve been ignoring me for the last few days and now you suddenly want my help. You don’t get to act offended now.”

Consider

“Sten,” Astala said. “You’ve fought in battles, right? What do you do against a large-ish number of foes armed with swords and maces rushing towards you?”

“Shields and spears,” the qunari answered. “Maintain your foe at a distance and slay him before he can reach you.”

“Hm.” Astala considered the idea. “But spears won’t do much against skeletons, right?”

“No,” Sten said. “You have to shatter them. Clubs or axes will be more effective.”

“What if we pair one guy with a pitchfork with another guy with axe and shield?” Astala said. “The guy with the pitchfork holds the skeleton at bay while the other guy hacks it into pieces.”

“You are relying on these men to hold a line,” Sten answered. “They won’t. These aren’t soldiers. They are excitable and impressionable fishers and artisans.”

Scream

Her heart skipped a beat when they found Ilanlas in the town’s square in what looked like a tense argument with a shem. What prevented her from running over and dragging him away was the fact that Mellan, the elven girl from the tavern, was standing right next to him as if supervising the whole operation. And then the shem nodded, Ilanlas handed him something and received something in return. Then they parted ways. Astala approached, carefully.

When Ilanlas saw her, his expression soured, and he marched up to her as if gearing up for a fight. Astala braced herself. Instead of screaming at her, however, Ilanlas grabbed her wrist, pressed something into her hand and stepped back, crossing his arms.

“Now go buy your blanket,” he spat.

Astala looked down at her hand. There was silver lying in it. She counted eight pieces.

“Where-?” She stared at Ilanlas. “How?”

@fade-and-loathing-in-thedas I am super super late but these words are a treasure!! Thank you so much for the tags, both of them!

Hope

"Thing is," he continued with what wouldn't even have been a lie a year ago, "I like living. And you obviously are the sort to give the Crows pause. So let me serve you, instead."

The Warden raised her eyebrows so high they disappeared under her dark fringe. The other Grey Warden scoffed and the dark-haired witch even laughed. Only the redhead kept quiet and studied him intently. Zevran made a mental note of that while his heart sank at their reaction. Was his situation this hopeless?

Despair

Astala forced her eyes open to find the king looking straight at her.

“I’m Astala, your Majesty,” she managed. She’d forgotten to bow.

“Pleased to meet you!” The king beamed. “The Grey Wardens are desperate to bolster their numbers, and I, for one, am glad to help them.”

Unsure what kind of answer was expected of her, Astala nodded.

The king seemed to find that sufficient and went right on. “I see you’re an elf, friend. From where do you hail?”

Perhaps she could find a helmet that covered her ears. Would people take her for a slight human woman if she did?

Beauty

“She deserved it, believe me,” Leliana said, and Astala wholeheartedly believed her. “So don’t worry. We will find someone for you. It won’t even be hard! You’re very beautiful.”

Laughter, unexpected, burst out of her chest. “Now you’re just trying to cheer me up.”

“What? No!” Leliana looked genuinely taken back. “You are very- I’m not saying this to cheer you up!”

“Please.” Astala let her head fall to the side. “I’ve got short hair and the biggest nose in my whole family.”

“I like your nose!” Leliana protested. “It adds character!”

“That’s a very nice way to say that it’s enormous.”

“Stop that!”

Lost (I apologize to all Amells and Suranas out there)

“And here I thought I was the only one to notice our dear Warden’s savior complex,” Zevran said and affixed an easy smile to his face.

“What is there to notice? Even a blind could see it.” Morrigan’s voice was laced with venom and her face was twisted into a sneer. “First, we take this enormous detour to spare one inconsequential noblewoman’s life. Then, we take a detour during that detour to help the Dalish. During this detour within a detour, we “save” a group of powerful creatures and thus render them useless to us. Next, we spend days clearing an already lost tower for some templars incapable of doing their job, and now they want to hunt for a population that should be more than able to take care of itself. And we keep picking up strays!”

Morrigan jabbed her thumb over her shoulder to where the three Circle mages were walking.

Pain

Astala was only dimly aware of being manhandled as her companions as they unbuckled the various pieces of armor. When Leliana grabbed her right arm, pain flared up from the whole thing and Astala groaned.

"Oh Maker," Leliana gasped. "Wynne, look at this!"

Astala winced as Wynne gingerly inspected.

"Maker's Breath. What have you been fighting?"

"Dwarves," Astala muttered.

"But your whole arm is crushed!" Wynne exclaimed.

Astala blinked and coughed. "Is it?"

"I don't want to alarm you," Alistair said somewhere above and to her... she couldn't really tell with one busted ear. "I really don't want to alarm you, but, uh... she just coughed up blood."

Brushed

She knew.

Just as quickly as it had come, the euphoria washed away and was replaced with a freezing, sinking sensation of dread. She knew. Knew what? How much? How much of his hand had he inadvertently shown? He felt sick. He felt dizzy, even. How had he allowed this kind of feeling to sneak up on him, and to fall for her out of all people, and after what had happened to-

“Morning, Zev!”

The Warden brushed past him, smiling brightly and holding her flower-crowned head high for all to see. Through the panic the second voice nudged him excitedly and blabbered incoherent nonsense at the sight of that smile. Before he could realize what he was doing, his own lips formed a smile in response, and once again he was left standing, dumbfounded, as the Warden approached Morrigan for some tea.

Hurt

“You made the right choice,” Zevran said while trying to untangle himself from the memory of his dead lovers. “It is no good to be bound to people that hurt you. Which is why I am no longer a Crow and, presumably, why you are here.”

Leliana stared into the hearth barely illuminating the room with a few smoldering embers. FInally, she sniffed and nodded. “But even so, I still grieve.”

Zevran swallowed thickly around the knot in his throat.

“I suppose you cannot avoid it,” he said. “Not if you gave them your heart, or part of it.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Leliana wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “What a foolish thing to do, to give our hearts away when they might be shattered so badly.”

Heat

Astala's ears and cheeks had started to heat up, and they were burning even now. No matter what way she turned, eyes open or closed, all she saw before her was the light flickering along Zevran as he smiled, as his hair as it fanned out when he spun. She could still feel the rhythm of the melody, his feet stomping on the ground in those boots that fit far too well, see his lean silhouette dark against the flames as he danced.

@yukichouji I finally get to respond to your second tag! Featuring some Alistair, some Zevran and some Sten, and an innkeeper worried about her money ^^

Troubling

“Anyway,” Alistair said very quickly, “I’ll fill you in on what we learned while we wait for Morrigan.”

In the chantry, he informed Astala, he and Morrigan had learned troubling news. Arl Eamon was sick and had sent his knights out on a desperate search for Andraste’s Ashes to cure him. The mages were apparently also having problems.

“Some say they have all turned into abominations,” Alistair said. “Which would really not be good if we wanted to ask them for help. So, in short, the quest for allies is going to be more difficult than we imagined.”

Astala started twisting a strand of leather around her finger.

“What did you find?” Alistair asked.

“Well,” Astala untwisted the bit of leather. “There are two paid jobs hung out on the board that I have requested and there might be more if we ask around. There’s also soldiers of teryn Loghain looking for us stationed at the tavern.”

“That’s… bad,” Alistair said.

“It is,” Astala nodded.

Trust

"Hm." Zevran reached for a sock as well. "Why do I feel like it was something I said?"

"It wasn't," Astala snapped. "Stop asking."

A light frown creased Zevran's brow. "As you wish. Should I leave entirely?"

"You should-" Astala swallowed her words and grabbed a pile of folded clothes. "Just… do the laundry."

She didn't storm off. She was just walking quickly, and her ears felt like they had been set aflame. Stupid, stupid, stupid. She should have known that Zevran would be worse than any shem. Because, unlike them, he didn't have to win her trust. He already had it.

Sword

An unseen explosion shook the earth beneath them. Astala drew her blades in a flash and spun around. There was nothing with them on the shore. Out of the upper levels of the tower of Kinloch Hold, however, rose smoke.

"Oh, that's not good," Astala muttered.

"They're still fighting in there!" one of the patrons called. "I thought they would be done by now?"

Astala could hear Alistair muttering under his breath.

Sten approached her, sword drawn. "We should never have come here, Warden."

"Well, we are here now," Astala said.

Weight

Astala looked at the coin and swallowed. It was strange: not round like the others and it didn't bear the crown if Ferelden. Instead, a strange symbol stood in its middle, and the coin had eight sides.

"I can't take this," the innkeeper said. "I don't know what it is and it doesn't have the right weight. Where did you get it from?"

"From bandits," Astala said quietly.

"Bandits," the innkeeper repeated flatly. "And they gave you coin?"

@bumblerhizal thank you as well for the tag! Some Zevwarden, some of the Chantry being shitty, some plums and some more Zevwarden. Enjoy!

Drink

They let themselves be carried by wave after wave until the water became too cold to bear. They trekked back to the camp with haste, bundled up in dry clothes and blankets, and even so Zevran’s teeth chattered, and the wind chased shiver after shiver down his spine. Wynne received them with open disapproval and two steaming mugs of rich broth.

“I would be very surprised if the two of you didn’t catch the cold of your life down there,” she chided as she shood them to the fire and threw another blanket over them. “Your lips are blue! What were you thinking?”

“Worth it,” Astala muttered into her drink and scooted closer to Zevran.

Zevran had to agree. He took a sip of the broth and relished the way it warmed his insides as it traveled into his stomach. He leaned against the Warden. Purely for body warmth, of course.

Lie

If they had lied about an elf who was close to Andraste, they would’ve definitely lied about the Exalted March on the Dales.

What was she supposed to do with all of this?

“Nobody’s ever tried to take the Dales back?”

Ilanlas laughed. “How would we?”

“You’ve got weapons,” Astala said. “You’re good shots and you have mages! Did nobody ever try?”

“The Dales lie between Ferelden and Orlais, and belong to the latter,” Ilanlas said. “What you propose would result everybody hunting us down like rabid dogs. There is a reason why we do not settle down.”

Warm

The rest of the night passed by uninterrupted, and the morning greeted them with a slightly cloudy sky. Duncan frowned up at the clouds. Astala welcomed them. The sun was already warming up the air, and every bit of shade would be welcome. Besides, she had discovered that the trees in the orchard they had slept next to carried plums. She immediately climbed the first tree and began filling her pack with plums. Duncan told her that this would anger the farmer, but only once, and he didn’t make her come down. And the farmer deserved it anyways. He’d kicked them out in the middle of the night when Ilanlas was sick. A pack full of plums was the least Astala would’ve taken if she’d had the chance.

Cold

"It will be cold again tonight," Astala mused.

"That it will," Zevran agreed. "But it will be the last night in a long time I think. I have been told that the city of Orzammar is lighted and warmed by flows of hot, molten rock."

"Molten rocks." Astala stared off into the distance as she tried to picture a rock in liquid state. She didn't quite know where to begin with. "The things there are in the world..."

"The things there are in Ferelden alone," Zevran said. "You should see the deserts in Antiva, my Warden. That is something worthy of admiration."

"Oh, I don't know, Zev," Astala said with a teasing smile. "Have you ever seen a rock melt? It sounds pretty impressive."

"So it does, if I didn't suspect that I would melt right alongside with it if I ever came close enough to lay eyes on the process," Zevran replied.

Aaaaaand it’s done!! I do hope you enjoyed these ^^ I would like to tag you all back, as well as @oxygenforthewicked @the-iron-lion @castlecousland and @icy-warden to find the words make, sleep, tree and terrible. Have a lovely day all of you!

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slowwshoww · 19 days

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just saw a fic author write "n-----s like you" like babygirl if you're gonna have a character say that, why bleep it out? just write it and tag for racial slurs. if you think that this is truly something an antagonist would say, write it out. if you're afraid of writing the full word, have someone interrupt them. but this is stupid

#sensitive fangirl problems #like i get not wanting to say it if you're not black but also. canon-typical racism is a tag that exists for a reason #anyway

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diejager · 9 months

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BEGGING I WAS LEFT ON A CLIFFHANGER FOT THE MONSTER AU 141 😭😭😭😭😭

pretty pretty please 🙏🙏

Only Human pt.2

Pairing: Monster Task Force 141 + König & Horangi x reader

Cw: canon-typical violence, hate, xenophobia, mention of racism, blood and violence, injury, fighting, protective 141, trauma?, anxiety, tell me if I missed any. wc: 6.3k

Only Human Masterlist

You still wonder, to this day, why you were needed on the Task Force. It worked like a well-oiled machine when put to the task, nearly unstoppable in the face of enemies. Although you were prideful to call it your home, you felt lacking compared to them, all much stronger, fiercer, and nimbler than you in every aspect, separated by miles of distance. One thing, however, that you could wield with an iron fist was your human nature and people’s fear of newly implemented hybrids. The public expression from governments about welcoming them into their ranks and their society without staying hidden under the pretence of being sick or behind a veil of secrecy.

You, after seeing how many Joint Task Forces and other Teams treated the 141, decided to deal with the introductions, the medium, the pacifier, between every team. Humans tended to react differently to another human than to a hybrid, they were nicer, less brutal and honest (a kind that held little spite). Laswell seemed more agreeable to your idea when you first came up to her with it, having seen the hate sent to hybrids she worked with. She encouraged you to be the first to interact or stand beside Price when he greeted human soldiers. Price, unlike Laswell, was reluctant at first. His instinct of protection and possession of his hoard made him less open to such ideas, especially if it brought you some, if any, backlash from other humans (humans are cruel, they shun what they don’t understand, they fear it and push to control it, if not, they destroy it. The need to control every aspect of their life made humans ruthlessly unremorseful and unsympathetic to other causes.).

As a tight-knit TF, some decisions are taken in votes, by hearing what the others thought of the idea or plan and his one was harsh. Ghost was hard-pressed on keeping you between them, the little, fleshy human of their Task Force (the youngest) and to let them deal with xenophobic glares while keeping you protected. Alejandro was similarly worried, but he knew the outcome of letting you speak first or accompany Price. He was torn. The others, Soap, Gaz and Rudy, seemed onboard, with the kind of why the fuck not? kind of look on their faces. Soap especially, he’d be able to stick close to you without having to hover over you like a protective guard dog.

Seeing the votes in your favour, he let it pass, and no sooner had they needed to meet a second team - human soldiers - for the next deployment. You stood beside Price when he strutted down the walkway, shoulders broad and back straight, an image of a strong and fearless leader with his draconic tail flailing lowly. He, as intended, greeted them first, rank and name before he presented you, his little human helper with humans. They’d taken better to speaking to you, being spoken by one of their own rather than a hybrid. He saluted you more amicably and more sincerely:

“Pleasure meeting you, Hunter.”

“The pleasure’s all mine, Captain.”

Although it wasn't without its setbacks, the operation went well, you had been able to come out mostly unscathed, leaving a few enemies on the brink of death for Ghost to savour. He was most thankful, a part of his body dissolving into the finest mist as they washed over the living bodies sprawled on the ground. You watched on, mesmerised by the uncanny way Ghost’s body absorbed the bodies of others, flooding the area with his shadow while you stayed unbothered, in the same condition as he first started. His darkness reached your neck, covering you in a soft cover of warmth as he ground the bodies to ash and dust. His skin was cold, but his powers were darkly hot, burning with the embers of hell, of a dead soul coming back for revenge and evilness.

Beyond the fact that your idea worked, you liked feeling useful to them, having a semblance of usefulness in a team of extremely competent beings. You felt with first greetings from then on, smiling and saluting to the leading figures of the groups you’d work alongside. It lessened the weight on Price to appease and pacify the new additions, he’d be able to fare better with the operators now that they had a different welcome, a different kind of greeting. It played into the minds of wary men that a human was the one to greet them, that one of theirs was leading the hybrids for them. You played the perfect example of a soldier for any xenophobic bastard.

Ghost, while still feared, received fewer glares than he usually would, occasional ones from daring or bold soldiers holding a lower rank than him, but he appreciated your attempts at making them more comfortable. He’s used to the negative reactions, had been since his childhood, but you seemed to make him feel like he deserved better, like he shouldn’t be glared, spat and scoffed at.

Soap, Rudy and Alejandro looked like human men in peak condition, if only for Soap and Alejandro’s glowing eyes and heightened strength and agility. Rudy was somewhat human, he looked and acted like one, down to the DNA, but with the title of cadejos vessel came powers. Perhaps not as strongly affecting as the rest of the hybrids, but he had subtle changes in his molecular making.

Gaz had stares coming left and right, daggers sent his way for having wings and talons he couldn’t will them to disappear, to recess under his skin and wear the appearance of a human man. He felt the heaviest blow by both not being able to cover his gifts and the colour of his skin. Although you wanted to proclaim that your new age came with more open-minded people, you knew that it simply couldn’t fix hundreds of years of standards in a few decades. People would still judge others by the tone and colour of your skin, they’d still hate the different and the strange; just like they hated hybrids. So you kept to his side most often after your introductions, wrapping an arm around him and pulling him close, letting him embrace you with a protective wing and a grateful smile.

You mostly worked hand in hand with human-filled teams and spear-headed human-led operations. So you were shocked, frozen to your core, when you saw a tiger haetae hybrid beside a tall, veiled operator walking down the cargo ramp. The hybrid, a tiger variant from the black-striped, orange tail that flickered slowly in a warning to any approaching beings. Dark glasses and a mask covered his face, his jacket and vest riding to the edge of his jaw, covering any skin from showing, though his lower back was left uncovered for the comfort of his swaying tail. He was neither short nor tall, he was tall enough to be slightly over the average height, but his teammate dwarfed him.

Perhaps his enormous height was an aspect of his monster half, or maybe he had the perfect genes to hold such a frame. He too, like his haetae operator, hid his face under a veil with maroon tears painted under his eyes. Like Ghost, he was covered head to toe in equipment and clothes, a jacket, a vest, gloves and black paint around his eyes. Whoever this was had both height and mass, burly arms and broad shoulders eclipsed by a slim waist and equally, disastrously thick thighs. On their left arm were flags, one from South Korea and the other from Austria.

They were the only ones to walk out, the only ones to approach you. Then your TF only had two new faces to work with rather than a whole team. You were tempted to say it would be easier, you waited until they stopped for Price - Price only - to greet them since they wouldn’t need a human to negate any aggressiveness between human and hybrid - or so you thought. They moved in synchrony, Price stepping forward to cover you with his body, his back facing you as he crossed his arms. Ghost and Alejandro had moved next to the captain, covering your sides. Alejandro had crossed his arm in a similarly menacing way, and Ghost stood still, body rigid but ready to strike at a moment’s notice; both were glaring ahead. Soap and Rudy took their places behind the colonel and the lieutenant, arms glued on their sides, weapons within reach with menacing stares towards the Korean and the Austrian. Gaz’s wings grazed you, soft feathers wrapping themselves around you and pulling you into his chest, acting as a protective cocoon for you.

“What-?”

They moved so quickly and efficiently that they seemed to suddenly appear in place, back straight and protective. Protective of you. Hybrids, from what you’d heard from couples and families, were possessive of their own, caring and extremely wary of other hybrids they hadn’t formed a bond with. Your TF was your pack, they were all tethered to each other through the familial bond they formed over the years. Then you came in, small and weak with your human self into a den of lions, thrown to be subjugated to their loving mercy and sinfully strong personalities.

The team of six hybrids encased you, barring the KorTac specialists from seeing you. Monsters and hybrids could sense one another - from what you heard - and they reacted instinctively. You saw their bodies tense as the two approached your team, muscles strained under the compacting anxiety and possessiveness. You could neither see over their shoulders nor feel what was happening, they stopped farther from you than you’d expected and you couldn’t see their feet.

The only sign you had was your captain’s gravelly voice welcoming them, his tail swaying like a cat’s tail, a slow, cautious motion. It - knowingly or unknowingly, seeing as Price acted on a mix of instincts and worry - wrapped around your ankle, clinging tightly to your boot-clad leg while a rumble rattled his chest. Steam rolled from his lips, billowing over the top of his hat in a show of power and warning. You hoped they wouldn’t take this negatively. They worked hard to curb the harmful rumours of 141 being beasts in human skin, acting like blood-thirsty and ravaging monsters that cared for nothing but themselves.

Although you couldn’t see them, the Austrian could, his towering height assured that he could see over almost any human, monster and hybrid alike. He was curious about the way they protected one of theirs as if you were weak. He cocked his head, green eyes gleaming red as he stared silently at the small mop of hair between them. What made you so important? What made you such a protected soldier? He couldn’t sense you like he could the others, their scent and magic masking yours in a violent torrent.

Unlike him, his friend couldn’t be bothered with the show of protection, he’d enrolled for the money and wouldn’t be deterred by much. He was a tiger haetae, honourable to a certain extent and proud. He might be shorter than the hybrids around him, but he was as vicious and talented as the next. He, however, was slightly curious, but he wasn’t paid enough to inquire or worry about the doings of 141’s pack.

It went as well as anyone would expect for the 141 with the added help of two military, hybrid operators from an elite PMC. As the combat medic of the TF, you followed them from behind and moved to the middle when you entered the building. You’d usually be at the back, being a medic, but you were a combat medic, having seen and participated in complete ops dealing with infiltrations and hostage rescue. You were an integral part of every mission. Now that they had a medic on hand, the wounds the men suffered could be treated in place rather than wait for the long ride home with the possibility of letting infection take root in the gash and watching it fester during hours in the carrier.

They had a habit of getting shot and slashed, a tad bit reckless in their ways but still effective. The stress of risking infection or the impossibility of reaching a medic after a mission was lessened, Price would still be able to live a few more centuries before his hair turned grey with nerves and his face wrinkled with frowns. You were a treasure beyond the fact that you were extremely helpful and insightful on your own. Your hands were steady and your demeanour calm and collected (albeit fidgety when put under too much pressure and fiery when someone looked at them differently.), you were a beauty, someone they needed to nurse and protect.

“I warned you about standing so close to the explosion!” They watched you berate Soap, cheeks puffed and lips pulled in an adorable pout. You went on a list of things he could’ve done better and safer than the decision he made, hands pulling the bandage around his arm, your bag set beside you.

“How was I supposed ta know?” The werewolf grumbled, giving you his best version of his “puppy dog eyes'' while he slouched back, trying to sit as comfortably as possible on the hard seats of the aircraft carrier.

“You’re a demolition expert, you’re supposed to know, Soap.” You hissed, tightening the wrap and smoothing it over so that it would hold. Your hand dipped into your bag, pulling out a few alcohol wipes for his face. With a jerky motion of your hands, you broke the seal and started patting his bleeding cuts from shrapnel and grazes from bullets. He winces with every dab, fidgeting in his seat while you disinfected his wounds, wiping away the dirt and blood before deeming it clean enough to move to the next one. “You also have a habit of setting things on fire.”

Although you mumbled it so quietly, the others heard you clearly, laughter rumbling out of the others while they watched Soap being scolded by the youngest. You never feared reprimanding them for an idiotic act that would result in having you tending to them, it was something they appreciated, the familiarity and comfort you had with them. They weren’t monsters, hybrids or anything with you, they were your family.

Seeing you so at ease with them had König and Horangi curious, most would cower or segregate themselves from other hybrids. You especially, seeing as you were the only human with them, they thought it’d be normal to see you shrink onto yourself and ignore the world around you while you waited to return home. Yet here you were, berating a werewolf for cuts and bruises that would heal in the following days, his metabolism prevented infection and permanent scarring unless it was too deep or deadly. They’d simply add to his rugged handsomeness.

König wondered if you’d show him the same amount of compassion and ease when you tended to his wounds - if he ended up having any at all. Would your hands be soft like his mother’s when cradling his arm? Would you whisper soft nothings to him while you cleaned his gashes with antiseptics? Would you also scold him for being reckless? He doubted that. Granted, he was extremely reckless and lost himself to the adrenaline pumping through his system when he entered the field, but he always came out unscathed. As a percht hybrid, his extreme enhancements made him practically numb to pain and sensations, with the small exceptions of a few primarily driven emotions or natural reactions to certain stimuli.

Perhaps, if your efforts were thwarted by his immense height, you’d hold and tend to him as softly as you did with the others, running your fingers through his hair and cradling him against your chest. He thirsted for something mundane, something so human-like that he would be reminded that he wasn’t completely a monster. He missed the softness in people’s gazes or the carefree way they spoke to and with him. He missed being reminded that he - too - was a living being with their rights. You could be the start of a regular life - as regular as a mercenary could have.

Even Horangi, who had vehemently stated to König that he could care less about the small, weak human in the operation, gave you the merit of being strong-willed and confident enough to stand beside them. He, the ever prideful and strong hybrid he was, deemed you competent for a human. Your usefulness started with your quick reactions and impeccable skills in your field and stopped when you couldn’t save someone, which had yet to happen. He was intrigued by the workings of your TF, how they managed to score a single human and an amicable one at that, strong and fierce, yet gentle and compassionate. If he’d grown up with someone like you, would he have turned out the way he did?

He simply watched from his corner beside König, through tinted glasses his eyes followed your movement, memorising everything you did for your brothers. They felt like imposters in your small, seven-men group, seemingly standing awkwardly in their little corner. 141 had shown a bit of aggression towards them in warning words and deadly glares when they assumed you didn’t see them, hissing out threats to ensure your safety among them. Not only were they confused by the dynamic, but they weren’t told anything besides “Back off” and growls.

After patting Gaz’s knee, giving him an oscar winning smile with gleaming eyes that were received with enthusiasm, you packed your things in your bag and moved to the next patient. You skipped Price, Ghost and Rudy, crouching in front of Alejandro. Rummaging through your bag and handing him a clean wipe for his dust-covered face, the soot clinging to his cheeks. He expected you to sit by your locked rifle after checking them, but you continued walking. You were heading towards them.

He knew König left the ground unscathed, clean of anything but dirt and blood, which meant he was the one you were heading towards. Hand on your pouch and a steady step backed up by a determined expression, you stopped before him. He tilted his head, a silent question. You blinked dumbly, holding out your hand to him, your small fingers backing him to give you something.

“Can I see your hand?”

His hand? He hadn’t thought much of it as he rested it on yours, palm upwards and gloveless. He saw it then, the small cut that bled red, small enough to be neglectable, but long enough to still be bleeding. He hadn’t felt anything from it before or after boarding the aircraft, he must’ve still been riding the adrenaline rush from the fight. He wondered how you knew he hurt himself.

Your fingers curled around his palm, holding it firmly as you lightly dabbed the inflamed skin with a sterilised tissue, being careful of the flared sides of his torn flesh. Under the blood and dirt, his skin was pale and swollen, the area having demanded his body to react to the potential bacteria that would worm its way into his system. You threw the bloody tissue aside and got an antiseptic wipe, being careful to not irritate his wound. Your care was gentle and patient. To a being like him, a hybrid and KorTac op, gentle and patient were foreign words to him. None were gentle to hybrids and none were patient with mercenaries.

Even as you wrapped the gauze and bandage around his hand, you gave him all your attention, sweetly cradling his hand between yours and nursing his gash with utmost care. It felt alien, the soothingly soft care of a medic. Other medics would’ve stared at him with disgust or hate if he walked near the infirmary, or they were rough and uncaring towards his needs.

“Thank you,” he mumbled, the sudden realisation of his silence in the face of a benevolent angel and the rush of embarrassment that flushed his neck hotly. He stared dumbly at his hand when you left, placed on his thigh with the white bandage staring right at him. The warmth of your hand had sunk into his skin, the feather-light tenderness of your fingers painted in his memory and your smile and determined expression stuck to him.

Even as he let his mind wander and body thirst for another taste of your gentleness, he could feel the burning stares of the other men. König with his curious and envious gaze, wanting to feel the snippet you offered Horangi, wanting your hands and stare at his giant figure. The 141 with their protective and warning glare, resenting him for taking a few minutes of your attention from them. You’d moved on your own, making your decision to help him with his small wounds as you did with them, he hadn’t forced you or compelled you to treat him.

Perhaps there was more than money and experience that was worth in this joint operation.

When the success of their first mission reached the prying ears of the General, he’d given them a few more joint ops - paid by the United States pockets, of course. Horangi and König were given temporary rooms in the barracks, in the same corner as the other hybrids and you, but far enough to show that they were excluded from them. Fortunately, they wouldn’t share the room, tigers were protective of one’s territory, and a percht hybrid - as rare as it may be - was documented to be hyper-possessive of their things, especially so for someone like König.

Horangi didn’t ignore you anymore, wanting to start a conversation when he passed you or staring at you from the other side of the room until you waved at him, letting him know he could approach you. He worked relentlessly to close the gap he had made between you, wanting to attach himself to the one good thing he had. Yet he had to be cautious, any indication of him being a threat to you would make your team act out in unison, pushing him back and covering you like they did the second he descended the ramp.

Ghost would hover over you, his body moving the darkness around him to seem more menacing. Ghost always glared at him when you turned your back to the Brit, his brown eyes swirling with the promise of death and devastation. Ghost wasn’t a physical hybrid, as Horangi had learned, but he had no qualms about keeping a hand on your hip or over your shoulder, acting as an imposing being that showcased his claim on you so publicly. It filled the Korean with envy and anger, he wanted to touch you as easily as the wraith did, he wanted a claim on you like the Lieutenant did, and he wanted to hold you close.

If not Ghost, it’d be Rudy or Gaz crowding you. If you were in the rec room, Gaz would usually be there with you. His arm thrown over your shoulders, pulling you into his side while his wings curled around you two, dark brown feathers ruffled to look menacing but comfortable to your touch. With the way he sat, slouching and legs spread across the sofa, he took all the available seats on the cheap, brown couch. When Gaz caught sight of him, he’d purposefully moved to take up more space, showing just how much one of the nicest of the 141 ostracised him. Although when someone from his TF, he’d move aside, giving space to the man to join them.

If you were walking around the base, Rudy - or Rudolfo as Horangi was forced to call him - would be by your side. Rudy had an arm wrapped around yours, seemingly like a military couple out on a casual walk, or he had his hand on your back, acting as the protective lover. Rudolfo’s smile was always wide and adoring when Horangi saw him walk you, exchanging words and making you laugh. It stung Horangi in an inexplicable way as if someone was knowingly sentencing him to death without any proof of his accountability. Rudy, the second nicest guy, also made glaring passes his way, pulling you closer to his side, directing you away and staring coldly at Horangi.

It rubbed him wrong, all the silent glares and insults at him to push him farther from you, but he was Horangi the Tiger haetae. He made his calculations, he was as smart and as resourceful as he was patient. Give it a few more missions together and they would loosen enough to let him swoop you off your feet. You were his source of comfort, of love and gentleness, he had to protect it.

Unlike Horangi, König actively sought you out on the base, following the trail of your scent and the soft noises of your voice and heartbeat. He was like a dog on your trail, nose sniffing every bit of air for you and ears strained for any noise you’d make. His senses were stretched thin to find a moment with you. He was as animalistic as a hybrid could get, leaning towards his monster to help him with his ops and trials.

You piqued König’s curiosity, making him wander the halls like a lumbering monster in a dark veil and glaring, red eyes. He saw how you treated big and dangerous monsters like the dragon hybrid you had as a captain, a respectable man, as soft as you treated the rowdy and rough werewolf and gracefully dangerous nagual. König wanted to feel your softness on him, your small hand grasping the tight muscles of his shoulders and back, kneading the tension away with grounding massages and stretches. You were their doctor, you cared enough to join them in the field, so you’d naturally be willing to mass the pain out of his body, no?

He wanted moments alone, where he could speak his mind without fear of being interrupted or pushed away for his imposing stature and aura. He wanted to place a hand on your waist, to feel the plush roundness of your stomach and the firm contour of muscle on your thighs. He wanted his voice to carry easily in the void of silence, where his voice could be heard by you from a small whisper. He wanted your eyes to focus on him, solely, as if he was your world.

He found it rather irritatingly difficult to find such moments. When he followed your scent through the halls and down to the medic's office, he’d find Captain Price crowding the room with his powerful musk of Ashe and fire - of metal and iron. Although Price was much shorter and lesser ranked than König was, he held the power of age and wisdom, an unfathomable strength that lay solely in draconic beings. This eternal power that none could rival apart from Eldritch beings, most cower, whimper and hide from dragons. He wore his power and wisdom on his sleeves, a warning for everyone, him and his KorTac operators included. König might’ve been reckless, but he wasn’t a fool, fighting headfirst with dragon seamed chaos and devastation. So, as any hybrid did, he backed away, an old dragon was dangerous, but a crippled one made it even more perilous.

When König tried to find you in the rec room, you were held in the tight embrace of a possessive wolf. Soap had you straddling his lap, facing him as he nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck. He purred and kissed your skin, making you squirm and giggle, but then Soap’s eyes gazed upwards and grew cold and unruly at König’s appearance. A proud - dare he say, cruel - smirk curled the corners of his lips. That was when he realised what the sergeant was doing. Soap, in the open, was scenting you, rubbing his musk over your neck, where - if you were another sifting hybrid like him and Alejandro - would’ve been your scent gland. It was a blatant show of possession. He nipped at your throat, drinking in your yelp and hiss, your back arching and moving to push him from biting too much. It filled him with rage.

If you weren’t with either dragon or werewolf, you were with Alejandro, the Hispanic scenting you as much as Soap did, but he did it with more finesse and subtlety. He would draw your hair back, the gland on his wrist grazing your neck and ears, imprinting you with him. Alejandro would hold your hand, fingers neatly intertwined with yours, his face laying on your shoulder as he spooned you in his lap. He purred and whispered sweet promises that had you nodding and smiling like a child on Christmas. He oosed of pheromones, filling the area with his scent and in turn, covering you completely in him. König watched with envy as Alejandro read to you, cradled between his thighs and falling asleep, his, Soap and everyone else’s musk laying a possession over you.

König’s a determined person when he put his mind to it, willing his beaten and bloodied self back to camp, or his sleep-deprived and insomniac-ridden mind to concentrate on the enemy. He was a battering ram, he pushed forward forcefully, however hard he had to, all to reach the end goal. This time, it wouldn’t be the head of his target, or the capture of an asset, this time, it would be you.

They both wondered, with how close your TF was, what was the dynamic. Was it a pack that shared the same lover? Was it a pack that had formed such a close connection to a human that you were deemed an integral part of the pack? Or were you the child they watched over and protected?

The next few missions 141 and the two from KorTac went on were as successful as the first, the cooperation of two ruthless mercenaries and a hybrid, specialist group made these tasks easy, near child’s play for them. Along with the aspect of having a medic on hand, it let them run wild, play along the edge and act more recklessly than they normally would. Having Horangi and König for so long, made them become a standard in the base, seeing them walk among the shorter and weaker humans. That also meant they had seen their fair share of xenophobic soldiers with balls bigger than a dragon’s and an ego the size of an Eldritch creature.

Every hybrid and monster was used to their hateful glares and sneering venom-dripping words. Ignoring them had become easier after the first year of enrolment. Horangi and König were, however, not used to someone defending them with their most honest heart of gold with earth-shattering words.

The first time they’d seen you defend your team was right after a mission, haunches, lumbering bodies descending the carrier’s ramp with their bags slung over their shoulders and addled with fatigue after a week of deployment. Young, power-hungry sergeants who’d let their ranks get to their heads had slid before them, head held high and shoulders held wide. Every single one of them knew that the moment the sergeant’s mouth opened, nothing good would come out of it. Perhaps degrading insults or back-handed sneers.

When the first sentence slipped from the man’s tongue, you pushed your way between them, barrelling into the man who’d insulted them. A deep frown was etched into your lips, brows creased so darkly into you that it cast a dark shroud of anger over your face. If König hadn’t known that you were a human, he would’ve thought that you were a being of darkness.

“You dim-witted bastards-!” Was the first word you let out, your usually soft-spoken self with gentle hands spewed acid at them, threatening to burn their skin.

Dim-witted, indeed. Old, conservative assholes who thought they were better than the rest with their pro-human propaganda and xenophobic acts against hybrids. Horangi had expected you to continue your scolding, wringing the sergeant dry with your words, not your hands. You used your hands, fingers curled inward, thumb over the curves of your bones and decked the man. It shocked them both, you were smaller, shorter, human and seemed weaker than the men, yet here you were, sending him toppling on the floor, his friend gaping and pouncing on you. Only to be met with your foot to his crotch.

“You bet your ass you won’t get any medical attention after this,” you hissed.

Although your words sounded improbable since you weren’t the only medic on base, you had built a connection through the system, every medic knew you and heeded your words. If one didn’t want a man healed, you and the rest wouldn’t help him. If you wanted a man to suffer, the rest would watch on with you. Medics were themselves, a tight-knit couple that helped one another. So your words were more than a threat, it was a promise.

“Until I see your sorry asses on your deathbed or grovelling, none of us will lift a finger for you. Bleed and beg all you want, but you aren’t getting help.”

You acted with an iron hand, sending the rest to the ground, moaning and groaning, cradling whatever part of their body you’d hit. They wondered why Ghost hadn’t moved, and neither did Gaz or Rudy, the most protective ones. When König glanced down at Ghost, he saw pride in his eyes, dark curled on sadistic pleasure swirling in his brown eyes. When Horangi gazed at Gaz and Rudy, he saw simple amusement, their mouths threatening to curl in a smirk.

All of them had known you’d act this way, erratic and violent rather than calmly scold them and stomp over their ego. You were strong-headed and blunt to them, making them bow to you, like lesser men to a lady, a queen, a goddess.

Horangi had experienced his own protection from you. After the men had loosened enough to trust him and König, he could walk beside you and hold a simple banter, albeit awkward at the start. You were much more violent this time, reaching for the downed man while hissing and screeching after you sent him to the floor with well-aimed kicks. You were like a gremlin, small and lively. He understood your anger, they’d called him racist things, calling out his Asian roots and hybrid characteristics.

Horangi had to hold you from going off on him following your promise of neglecting his medical needs. It worked, though. The first group had searched to plead, to apologise and beg for medical attention. You’d sent them away with a small note lifting the ban for medical help. You were as ruthless with people as they were to enemies.

Any other encounters with hot-headed men and women that glanced at them weirdly were met with a varying amount of anger and disgust from you. Horangi understood why 141 held you so carefully, so tightly in their hold. Why they worshipped you like a priest would do with his goddess. It was a sense of camaraderie that had evolved into love, affection dripping from their pores.

König received a bit more attention for his size, the threatening nature of his ouster coupled with his brute figure, made him a subject of fear and rejection. That hadn’t stopped you from wanting to approach him, had it? Going as far as calling him cute when he stuttered while broaching the subject of him liking certain things. For a burly man with the height of a giant, he was nice to sit next to, his quiet but anxious stature when he wasn’t deployed made it easy to talk to. He might sometimes let his instincts drive him, but they were all well-meaning, wanting nothing but goodness for you.

His turn came in quick succession, he was shunned and ridiculed left and right. It never helped that he would shy from others, preferring his little corner that made the room look stranger and claustrophobic (not that he let them walk all over him, he growled and glared, standing tall with the promise of lashing out or eating them. Even when humans feared König, they still attempted to rile his anger.). But with you, he wasn’t by his lonesome, he had someone to rattle on about the things he liked to do, or the things he wanted to do. His shoulders were relaxed and mind calm, free to speak his mind about the goriest and the sweetest dreams he had, his speech unperturbed by his anxiety.

Unlike the others, König stood before you as an impenetrable wall of muscle and fat when you raised your hand at an insignificant pig. Why would he let someone so disgusting touch you (even though it was to hit and kick the man, he would do it for you instead)? He guarded you as if they were insulting you rather than him - though it was the reverse - and glared down at anyone with dreadfully scary eyes. Like the devil that had risen, he sent them running with their tails tucked between their legs. Although he was the one that had gotten rid of them, he was always so proud of you, holding you close to him and gushing about your brave and inspiring actions.

He saw how the men in 141 looked at you, he wanted to be a part of it, to be able to freely nuzzle your face and hold you like Soap would, to cradle you in his arms and carry you around the base. König wanted a piece of your heart, to be able to show the world he held it in his hands, caring for it between his big, calloused fingers and soft affection. He might be dangerous, he might be deadly, he might be reckless, but if you let him, you would be his world like you were to the others (Horangi would agree, they spoke about it on their own.).

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queenie-avenue · 3 months

Text

Sent from Below, Fell from Above. [pt.1] [pt.2]

—> if angels can fall, demons can rise.

⤻ reader is a female, reader is a bunny-type angel(?), canon-typical cursing, very bad use of 1920s slang, heavily inspired by @jazjelspen 's angel baby fic, death, betrayal, mentions of racism, abuse of men against women and sexism, angst, spoilers for all of hazbin hotel season one, flashbacks

notes: a rather long one, and wrote another small verse for readers to sing. I wrote it while slowing down the melody in Emily and Charlie's parts.

💌 ⤻ archives.

You walked into the broadcasting room, your heels clacking against the clean floor as you looked about before acknowledging that someone was already there.

"Ah, are you my newest assistant?" The man seated there had the widest grin on his face as he sat there, legs slightly spread apart as you gulped, nodding your head so meekly. Ah, to be human again, when you were too scared to even raise your head. "Haha, that's wonderful, my dear. I was told you had quite the resume. Most impressive for a young lady." You nodded your head. "Very... very impressive indeed." He smiled at you.

"You are impressive too, sir." You quipped.

"Oh?" He tilted his head.

You blushed as he narrowed his eyes at you. "Both of us... we- we're not exactly what society deems as... correct."

"Is that why you're working here? You relate to me?" The creole man asked, leaning against his chair as he tapped a lanky finger on his desk.

"No." You shook your head, your wild hair shaking alongside you. "I admire you. I want to be like you. I imagine it must have been hard for to get to where you are now." You spilled your heart out to this man, because for years, you admired how someone that was meant to be pushed out of what society deemed 'right' managed to rise to the top, to become a striking star in the radio world. "So I'm here because I want to learn how to become a star, just like you."

His eyes widened as you faced him with that determined look on your face.

"What a bright young woman." He rose up from his seat, sauntering his way towards you as you stood there, waiting.

Alastor grabbed your hand, bowing down as he looked up at you, that sweet grin on his face. "Alastor, my dear, pleasure to meet you." He said, before sealing your fate with a kiss on your hand. "I hope that we can get along well." You gazed at him with wide eyes, your eyes raking over his bronzed skin and brown — almost red — hair. Glasses lined his gleaming eyes.

✧ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ✧

"Hey, bitch! I'm talking to you over here!" Adam's voice rang throughout your head as your head snapped up to meet the first man on Earth. You frowned.

You never liked Adam. He was stuck-up, and you had heard the stories of how badly he treated Lilith and Eve, it reminded you of your high-school friends who unfortunately fell into the hands of those abusive men they had to marry. Adam had the same air as them, just less... smart.

"You want me to show up to the trial?" You repeated.

"Yes!" Adam yelled.

"I don't mind. That demon princess annoys me a little. I don't understand why she's trying to redeem a murderer like him." You hissed. The fact that girl — who probably knew of his sadistic nature — associated with him, left a bad taste in your mouth. Though wrath was a sin, you felt resentment and wrath for Alastor, and envy for how he did not seem to regret any of his actions that led him to hell in the first place. Meanwhile, you had to deal with the nightmares that came with being killed. For the first years in Heaven, you woke up in cold sweat as you remembered the knife that went through your heart.

"Well then, babe," you disliked Adam, but a temporary truce would be fine. "Let's start heading there, shall we?"

You nodded and unflapped your wings.

✧ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ✧

You flew up to the seat beside Adam, eyes narrowed as you watched Alastor promenade in with the Princess of Hell and that girl you still had no idea about. The way he walked was still the same as it had been years ago.

You met eyes with Alastor, mustering all your courage to send a look of malice his way, as Sera announced the beginning of court.

"We are gathered here today to determine whether or not a soul in Hell can be redeemed to the Heavenly Realm by means of this Hazbin Hotel." Oh, you just knew Alastor named that Hotel, he always did have a sick sense of humour. You almost snorted at the name too, but refrained from doing so.

Adam nudged you. "Now." He practically hissed. Out of spite, you almost didn't stand up.

"Objection!" You said as you stared down at the Princess, then at Sera. "I apologise for interrupting you, your royal highness." You looked down at her, then up at Sera, who glared at Adam, instinctively knowing it was his idea to rope in the innocent you into his plans. "I understand that as a Winner, I typically have no say in how Heaven runs things." You summoned up all your might as you met Sera's eyes, utilising all that courage you had back as Alastor's assistant into your heavenly body. "But I must disagree on the type of people the Princess of Hell is trying to redeem." You pointed a finger at Alastor, his eyes widening in amusement as you accused him.

"This man, I knew him from when I was alive, my heavenly council." You looked at all the archangels and others that gathered around. "He was the man who killed me. A notorious serial murderer from when I was alive. More of his victims are no doubt here too, maybe some in hell. But what doesn't change the fact is that someone as dangerous as him," You pointed your finger at Alastor again, your face turning red as he simply tilted his head towards you, like a gentleman greeting a lady. The council gasped as they all whispered about, some glaring down at your murderer. For once, you felt like justice was being served for how abruptly your life had ended in Alastor's hands."Does not belong in Heaven after all the souls he has killed in his time in the living. No matter how much he repents, taking away another human's soul is an unforgivable crime!" You exclaimed.

The rest of the council agreed, as the Princess and the girl beside her looked about, frantic. Alastor simply smiled up at you, his little bunny.

"Order in the court." Sera said, attempting to calm everyone down after you riled them up with your voice.

"You've always been such a good public speaker, my little bunny." You saw red, he dared to call you that intimate nickname in front of the Heavenly Court? After you had revealed his crime to everyone to see?

It seems that Alastor's nerve had not died with him.

"Why is he even here?" You questioned Charlie, your fiery gaze never leaving the trio below you.

"I am the host of the hotel, my dear!" Alastor said, "I should be here to support my fellow colleagues in their endeavours. What kind of co-worker — let alone friend — would I be if I let them defend their case on their own?"

You were about to speak when you were interrupted by that Princess.

"In the Hazbin Hotel, we believe that everyone can be redeemed!" The Princess exclaimed despite the loud voices drowning her out. "Please, you have to listen!"

"You don't even have evidence that this Hotel can work. If you do, we'd be glad to see it!" Adam responded sarcastically, challenging Princess Morningstar.

"We have a patron that is showing incredible progress." She said.

"Who?"

"Don't tell me it's him." You glared at the Princess, daring her to confirm your doubts.

"Angel Dust!" What an odd name.

"Oh yeah! The porn demon, he's totally worth being redeemed." Adam blew a Raspberry at them. That was... immature. Still, your cheeks almost flamed scarlet as Adam gave you context for who and what this sinner the Princess referred to was.

"Well, if you know so much, what do you think it takes to get into heaven?" She pointed at Adam as your eyes widened. You had never thought about this before but... what did a person need to do to get into heaven? Did they need to be perfect? Because if so, you certainly belonged in Hell. Then, you remembered Alastor and your mood soured to think that you might have been in the same spot as him.

What was even more shocking was when Adam began to get flustered, flabbergasted by Charlie's question as Sera inquired as to whether Adam was okay. You watched even more shocked as Adam cursed at Sera and began to scribble nonsense onto a paper and sent it down to the girl. You caught a glimpse of the paper and your eyes widened.

"Are you fucking serious?" The ashen girl by the Princess' side asked, and honestly, that was your reaction too.

Adam snapped his fingers as Charlie challenged him, your eyes narrowing as an orb of light began to reflect, glowing bright before showcasing a bunch of sinners... partying? Was that how partying looked nowadays?

"Heavenly people, what more do you need to see? The pornstar chose a night of debauchery, that's not a soul worthy of being redeemed!" You side-eyed Adam. He had done way more debaucherous stuff than you cared to admit, and plus, if not partying was one of the factors for how you could get into heaven, the parties Alastor dragged you to would have caused you to plummet to Hell already.

"Are you telling me you never had a drink with friends after a hard day?" The Princess was right.

Thankfully, Sera was much more forgiving and less stupid than Adam, considering that she eventually allowed the Princess of Hell to continue. Still, you glared at Alastor, annoyed that you and Adam's ploy to get everyone so worked up over the serial killer in the room had not worked.

If the type of people the Princess of Hell, Charlotte Morningstar, wanted to redeem was a serial murderer, you would never accept the idea of redemption.

Alastor did not deserve such happiness.

You continued to watch, and the more you watched, the more you empathised with this Angel Dust... the more you felt inclined to care for him. You felt your heart — that you had assumed turned to stone for the sinners down in hell — slowly soften into clay for this sad man. Yet, despite how sad he clearly was, he was so strong. Stronger than anyone you had ever seen.

"See! He did everything on your list! He was selfless, he stopped Nifty from stealing and stuck it to that Moth man!" Charlie exclaimed, causing your eyebrows to furrow.

"Well, b- then why isn't he here then!" Adam sputtered out. "Hm?"

"Why isn't he here?" Emily and You said in unison.

"Wait, none of you know what gets someone into Heaven?"

The rest of the conversation was a blur to you as you struggled with the idea that you had no idea why you were in Heaven. If you had done one wrong thing... would that have condemned you to hell with Alastor?

You had not even comprehended the fact that they had started debating their ideas in song till Lute who was seated beside you, began to insult the sinner that all of you had been observing. Your eyes had solely been focused on Alastor the entire time, but theh quickly shot to Lute.

"What are we even talking about? Some crack whore who fucked up already! He blew his shot like the cocks in his mouth, this discussion is senseless and petty!" Lute sang, and you almost reached out for her, to not say such crude things in front of the Heavenly council and certainly to not insult a victim of abuse. Yet Lute and Adam flew away first and you frowned even deeper.

"Gotta say I can't wait to-"

"Adam." You turned to Sera.

"Come down and exterminate you!" Your eyes widened as you realised the severity of this situation. You now understood why this Princess was fighting so hard for this hotel.

Adam was killing the sinners.

He was no better than Alastor. No, even worse. Adam slaughtered an entire group of people without mercy. You felt bile rise up from your throat as they continued to sing, the tunes of their voice banging against your ears.

"Whoops!"

"Guess the cat's out of the bag!"

"What's the big deal?"

They didn't even see what was wrong with what they had said. You almost stumbled back thanks to shock and your absurdly long dress. Your entire world was sent into a frenzy as you felt so disgusted with yourself, for thinking that you could work with Adam, for siding with Sera and Adam — though briefly — for the idea of extermination. You felt yourself fall back, but someone was there to catch you.

Alastor's shadows manifested behind you, holding you close to his chest. "Be careful, Sweetheart." He said, helping you regain your balance as you felt too much anger with yourself to be angry at him.

"If Hell is forever, then Heaven must be a lie!"

"Emily-"

"If Angels can do whatever and remain in the sky! The rules are shades of grey, when you don't do as you say, when you make the wretched suffer just to kill them again!"

Their words resonated with you, and you found your heart thumping to the melody of the song.

"Don't look there." Alastor whispered as a red hand came up to your face, covering your eyes. "I don't like to see you stressed, my darling." The warmth of his hand felt like that time when he had surprised you on your birthday, covering your eyes before revealing the cake he had bought and the decorations he had put up for you.

Despite how he covered your ears, you could hear the court arguing amongst themselves.

That's when you heard it.

Sera's voice boomed throughout the entire court, facing the sinners with a verdict. "I'm sorry, but this court finds that there is no evidence souls in Hell can be redeemed."

"Oh fuck yes! I win, suck it, bitches!"

"You better save the date cunts, because we're coming to your hotel, first." That's when Alastor manifested in front of them, his shadows pushing Adam back, almost causing him to topple over.

"Not a very clever idea, chum, it's rude to curse at ladies." Alastor warned, the shadowy tentacles slithering about, ready to attack Adam.

"Ugh, son of a bitch!" Adam cursed as he grabbed out his guitar. "Or maybe, I can just kill you fuckers now." He took out his guitar-axe and in a flash of light, you flew towards them, shielding the trio from Adam's strikes with your wings. Adam flew back when his guitar-axe made contact with your angelic wings, enchanted by a spell that slammed Adam and Lute back, crashing into the wall.

"Just because you're a winner, does not give you the privilege to harm someone else!" You yelled, never having such a fit of rage in your life as you spread out your wings. You were a bunny; prey, never the predator. But as you spread out your Enchanted wings, you felt yourself grow angrier as you thought of how Adam — that sadistic motherfucker — no doubt killed multiple sinners. Sinners who were just like Angel Dust, misguided, but deserving of redemption.

"Are you seriously defending them right now, you crazy bitch?" Adam grunted as he glared at you.

"I'm defending the principle of it." You hissed.

Sera and Emily looked down at you. Sera, in particular, had a sour look on her face.

"You say that demons cannot be redeemed to Heaven, but why can Angels fall?" You questioned. "Lucifer himself, was once an angel, God's favourite angel!"

"If angels can fall, then why can't demons rise?" You looked towards the Heavenly council as you sang. "After this, will you really believe all their lies?" You questioned through song as Adam got up, knowing you had little time to convince the court. "The rules aren't black and white, who decides what's wrong and right? Can you say that this is justice when you kill them again?" You sang, pleading for the court to just look past their prejudices.

Just then, you heard a snap of Adam's fingers as a portal emerged from behind all of you. "No!" You yelled when you noticed how the portal was leading to a red fiery pit you assumed was hell, but before you could even protest, you had been pushed in by Lute, causing the rest of the four of you to stumble back down into hell.

tags: @duckydinglers @ghostdoodlen @belletifeshyl

#hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel fic #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor x female reader #alastor the radio demon #the radio demon

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polakina · 3 months

Text

evenings in the east

pairing: javier escuella x reader

rating: explicit

outline: a job takes you to saint denis, and you take the perfect person for the job. who also so happens to be your favourite person in camp. one night away from camp couldn't do any harm, right?

warnings: fluff, flirting, cursing, pining, smut, unprotected sex, oral (fem recieving), canon typical racism, illegal shit (but we've all robbed someone in the games, let's be honest)

requests are open! hope you enjoy, petals <3

a/n: this is a looong one. and also my first rdr2 attempt (but there will be more). so i took my sweet ass time with it. javier has had me in a fucking chokehold for years and i'm not even complaining

masterlist

When the team wanted revenge, it was you and Arthur on a mission. When they wanted chaos, Sean was the best to take. But for a little finesse, Javier was your go-to man.

Walking over to him, you noticed how he put down his weapons on the table, his eyes already on you before you reached him. Poncho draped over his shoulder, hat tipped down half his face, only his lips on show, he looked so elusive. Unapproachable to an outsider. But not to you.

“Good morning, cariňa,” he said softly, the words rolling off his tongue. His accent was always a little huskier in the morning. You’d learned over the years you’d known him that he wasn’t a morning person at all. It wasn’t in his nature. You often had to kick him awake, and even then he’d roll over at you and curse in his native tongue. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

You smiled, taking a seat with two cups of coffee in your hands, sliding one across the wooden table to him. He nodded appreciatively, taking the cup and sipping a small amount. “Hosea’s sending me on a job. Should be fun. It’s a pretty lucrative deal, out in Saint Denis.”

“And…my role?” He asked, waving his hand in the air expectantly.

“Uhm…well…” you hadn’t really figured out his role. Just that you wanted his company for the job.

“Wait. Let me guess,” he smirked. “You want me to be the charmingly handsome distraction while you steal from a bunch of big money spenders in a high class bar?”

Rolling your eyes, you sipped your coffee. “Idiota. I need someone calm. Someone sneaky. You were my top pick.”

“Sneaky is not my talent, hermosa. I steal things with style,” he gestured to himself with his free hand, and you couldn’t help but chuckle. But he wasn’t wrong. He had a certain way about him. He always liked to put on a show. Not as much as Trewlany did, he was more subtle with his methods.

“Do you want the job or not, Javi?” You asked, leaning over the table, eyebrows raised.

He nodded almost immediately. “Very much so. Anything to get me out of this camp and away from sleeping in the tent next to Bill.” You laughed, and you both finished your coffee in comfortable silence.

Your relationship with Javier was a complicated one. And a long story. Your first encounter, he tried to rob you. It was a good lift. Any regular person going about their day wouldn’t have noticed. But the best of the best taught you to steal. To lie. To scam. So you noticed.

So when he tried to walk away, you didn’t stop him immediately, which confused Marston, who you were riding with. “What are you doin’, darlin’? He’s gonna get away.”

“I wanna have a little fun with it. I haven’t been robbed before,” you smiled sweetly, looking over at John innocently. “Wanna make it special.”

He looked at you in bewilderment. “You’re fuckin’ weird, doll.”

So you followed for a while, at a safe distance, while this mysterious Mexican rode his horse away, none the wiser. It’s only when he paced faster into a gallop that you finally decided it was time. Speeding past him on your horse you roped him with your lasso, tearing him off his horse and hitting the floor hard. Really hard.

John laughed at the man, and you dismounted your horse, wandering over to him, pulling your rope taut as you approached the thief.

“Hijo de puta, who the hell are you?” He groaned, rolling onto his back, his face painting a pained expression.

“The lady you robbed. Now give me back my shit and you can walk away from this,” you crouched down to his level, tipping your hat up to look him in the eye.

“How the hell do you know I robbed you? Huh? You accuse every Mexican you see of being a criminal?” His accent was thick, syllables rolling off his tongue effortlessly.

You smirked, flicking his hat off his head in one swift motion. “No, but I know a thief when I see one. Yeah, you’re a pretty good one, honey, but I’m better.” You held out your hand expectantly, and he sighed, reaching into his pocket and pulling a leather pouch out. It landed in your palm with a soft thud.

“You finished, darlin’? Or you wanna pack him up and take him with us? Either way, can we get moving? My ass hurts and it’s getting dark out.”

“Stop your whining, Marston,” you chuckled, standing up and releasing the man from your rope. What he’d said wasn’t actually a bad idea though. Taking him with you. He’d be an asset, sure. But it’d definitely take the camp a while to warm to the idea of it. You weighed the idea for a few minutes as the man stood up, brushing dirt off his knees. “What’s your name?”

He looked at you, slightly confused. You just lassoed him off his horse, and now you wanted to get to know him? “Javier.” You shook his hand, replying with your own name. He noted how gentle your voice was, as opposed to how harsh your actions were just moments ago.

“Where you headed?”

He walked back over to his horse, mounting it with a grunt and putting his hat back on his head, adjusting his poncho to sit comfortably. “Not sure yet. Wherever this road takes me, I guess. It was nice…getting thrown to the ground by you, I guess. But I got places to be. I’ll see you around.” He tipped his hat and jutted his heels into the sides of his horse.

“There’s a camp,” you said, watching him turn back to you with a curious expression. “About a mile east of Blackwater. You ever find your way out that direction, come introduce yourself. There might even be a place for you there.” He smiled and nodded before riding off west.

“Think that was a good idea?” John asked, walking his horse up next to you, looking down as you watched Javier leave. “Telling him where camp was?”

You shrugged, mounting your own horse and setting off into a trot back to camp. “Can’t do any harm, right? Besides, who knows? Maybe he really will stop by.”

He did. Two weeks later. He never ended up leaving. He became part of Van Der Linde’s most trusted and years later, still managed to prove himself one way or another.

“This dress hurts my lungs,” you complained. For the forty sixth time, Javier had been counting since you left camp in search of Saint Denis. “Can’t fucking breathe in this thing. How do ladies wear these all day?” You shuffled in your seat on the wagon, trying any way to get the pressure of this corset off your chest.

“Keep moving around and that corset is going to pierce an organ or something, hermosa,” Javier chuckled. He was lucky. He got to wear a suit and tie, and his hat, of course. What you wouldn’t give to switch this dress for your riding pants right about now. Or your hat. God, you missed your hat. You felt naked without it.

“I’ll pierce your organs with it if you keep laughing at me.”

That just made him chuckle even harder. “We’ve got to play the part. Distinguished members of society.” He looked over to you and was just met with a blank stare.

“I hate every word that just came out of your mouth,” you said, rolling your eyes. Coming into view was the city you were heading for. The tall industrial looking buildings, the rows and rows of streets and train tracks and stores. It was occupied by more people than you think you’d ever come across in your life. “Jesus, that place is huge.”

“Just look like you belong, we’ll be fine.” Javier patted your thigh comfortingly. It made your stomach flip.

Parking the wagon by the side of the saloon Hosea had told you about, you looked up at the mountain of a building. “How the hell are these buildings so tall?” You muttered to yourself. A quiet cough pulled you out of your thoughts and you looked to your right, where Javier was standing, a hand extended to help you off the wagon. “Such a gentleman, aren’t you?” You smiled.

“I’m always a gentleman, thank you very much,” he joked. “You’d do well to remember that.” Holding out his arm, you took it, looping your arm through his and making your way to the entrance. But he stopped just before opening the door, turning to you. “Hold out your hand.” You did, confused, but also trusting him completely. “Other hand, hermosa.” You switched for your left hand.

“What are you doing, Javi?”

He said nothing, slipping a ring onto your finger. A wedding ring, from the looks of it. Your confusion was now fully recognisable in your features. “Playing the part,” he replied, winking. He switched one of his own rings to his ring finger. Then he pushed the door open with a smile.

The hotel clerk gave you a strange look, but it immediately washed away when he saw your hardened glare. “Evening folks, how can I help you tonight?”

You took point on the situation, as planned. “Good evening, sir,” you beamed sweetly. “We’d like a room for the night. We were recommended this establishment by friends and our expectations certainly seemed to be met from just the look of this place.” Javier loved your way with words. You’d taken after Hosea in that regard, able to smooth talk your way into anything you wanted.

“Well, ma’am, we certainly do have rooms available. Is the room just for yourself, or is this…gentleman joining you?” He looked to Javier with uncertainty. Your blood boiled a little, and Jvaier’s finger interlaced with yours, squeezing your hand gently. He could sense anger in you.

“You mean my husband?” It felt strange saying such foreign words, but you powered through it. “Yes, he will. Is that a problem for you? Sir?” Venom laced that last word, and the clerk realised he fucked up. A lot.

“No, no of course not. Here, the key to your room,” he said, handing a key with the number 4C etched into the key chain. “And a bottle of wine at the bar, on the house.” You and Javier looked to one another, he smirked and turned back to the clerk.

“Make that a bottle of whiskey and you have yourself a deal, amigo,” he flashed a smile in the clerk’s direction. He still hadn’t loosened his grip on your hand yet, you’d eased into his touch over time.

“Of course, sir,” the clerk returned with an awkward, tight lipped smile, gesturing to the stairs leading to the first floor. “Your room is on the fourth floor, folks. Enjoy your night.”

You smiled sweetly, leaning over the desk, closer to the clerk until he saw the fire simmering in your eyes. It scared him a little. “Thank you, sir,” you spoke quietly, too quiet for Javier to hear. “But you insult my husband again, and I’ll take your tongue for good measure.” The clerk’s face drained of all life. You walked away, Javier leading you up the stairs.

“What did you say to him?” Javier asked, unlocking the hotel door and entering inside.

“Nothing, really,” you vaguely responded, “Just…commenting on his customer service.”

The bar was pretty quiet. A group of young ladies sat in the corner, eyeing up the married men who were sat on the right side of the bar, smoking and laughing amongst one another. It had been a long time since you’d been somewhere like this. So civilised. So populated with the high end of society. It made you uncomfortable, but your face read as calm. Collected. You belonged here. Javier guided you to the bar, his hand on the small of your back. You felt comforted by the brief touches.

Your targets were all around you. Rich folk visiting from New York for the yearly Saint Denis festival and theatre house. They came like clockwork, swaying through the city in their frocks and suits, casting eyes down at the lower class occupants as they sat by the road, only a few coins in their hats.

The bottle of whiskey was waiting for you on the bar, the one gifted from staff for your previously rude introduction with the clerk. The bartender poured two glasses of whiskey, adding ice for yours. You took a seat at the bar, Javier on your left, situated at the corner of the bar so he could see the entire room. You sat yourself where the mirror hanging on the back of the bar was situated, giving you a perfect view of those behind you.

“Some pretty good shit we could get off these people, I think,” Javier whispered, leaning close to you. You hummed a response, twisting the ring on your hand between your fingers. The metal felt strange, cold. But you enjoyed the feeling.

“Agreed. But we gotta keep it quiet. Split up, maybe?” You cast your eyes out to the unknowing victims you were planning to rob. The ladies in the corner had since turned their attention to Javier. Whispering words between them, they giggled, and you saw an opportunity. “Group of women, over my right shoulder. Seems you’ve got their attention. Maybe you should go say hi.”

He smirked, tipping his hat to the ladies with a flirtatious edge to his smile. You ignored the pang of jealousy that seeped through you. “What, and leave my lovely wife at the bar alone? That’d be a poor husband you’re making me out to be, amor.” He was seriously leaning into this act the two of you were playing out. You were eating up every second of it.

Turning to face him, you locked onto his eyes which were fully focused on you. “I’m sure I can handle myself, darlin’. Go mingle. Perhaps a kind gentleman will come over and give me a moment of his time.” His smile faltered at the thought of another man having your attention, but he brushed it away.

“I’ll keep an eye out, just be careful.”

Then he kissed your cheek and walked away. You were left sat there, stunned. But Javier had an enormous grin on his face as he walked away.

It didn’t take long for a drunken man to stumble over to you. But you ignored him, sipping your whiskey and occasionally sneaking a glance to Javier, who had all four women swooning at his charm. You’d noticed the way he’d taken their hands, slipping the bracelet off their wrist and pocketing it in swift, simple motions. You were glad to have brought him along. Anyone else would have been caught in an instant.

“Ma’am, how are you doing on this fine, lovely evening,” the man slurred, standing directly behind you. You looked into the mirror, seeing the tall, brutish looking fellow with glazed eyes, swaying slightly as he looked at you. You turned your head slightly to look at him.

“Just fine, sir. And yourself?” You turned to face him fully, but you caught Javier glancing over as you swivelled on your bar stool.in one hand, you held your almost empty whiskey glass, in the other, you were slowly reaching for the drunk’s pocket.

“Even better now that I’ve seen your pretty face. Say, what you doin’ out here all alone? That greaser you were with earlier left you. Suppose he wasn’t great company, was he? No surprise there.” Your pulse quickened, and your grip on your glass tightened.

“I think you should go find someone else to pester, honey,” your gaze darkened, and you retrieved everything you could from your pockets, slipping them into the pockets that Abigail had sewn into your dress for this mission. “I don’t care much for company right now.”

He just smirked. But there was no charm in it. It was an ugly smirk. A gap toothed grin that you would see again in your nightmares at some point, you were sure of it. “Come on, sweetheart, you’d love my company, I promise you.”

You turned back to the bar, slightly leaning over to get to the bartender’s attention, pointing to your glass for a refill. The bartender nodded, turning away from you to collect the bottle. But as you moved to sit back on your stool, you felt a large, warm slap on your ass. You almost broke the stool with the speed you leapt off it, turning to the man who was significantly larger than yourself. “Keep your hands to your fucking self,” you seethed, your hand gripping his wrist. You saw movement out of the corner of your eye, and eyes on you everywhere. “Touch me again, and I’ll break your fucking wrist, you understand?” He just smiled, chuckling slightly.

“Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it.”

“I’m pretty sure she didn’t, amigo,” Javier appeared at your side, his eyes practically red with rage. But he kept it all in pretty well, somehow. “You best move along. Unless you want more than that wrist of yours snapping in two.” The way Javier spoke made him seem bigger than he actually was. More confident, but more dangerous.

The man saw his chances were slim and made his way over to a free table, slumping down in it while muttering something about can’t even be nice to people anymore. You weren’t really listening. A finger tipped your chin over to Javier, his eyes softening in your gaze. “All good, hermosa?”

You nodded, heart beating faster as his fingers moved to the side of your neck, his thumb caressing your cheek. “All better now,” you smiled.

The night went on, and you filled your pockets, Javier did the same. With half a bottle of whiskey left, you decided to turn in for the night. You led the way back to the room, the key in one hand, your glass in the other. Javier followed close behind, holding his own glass and the rest of the bottle.

Locking the room door behind the two of you, you both emptied your valuables onto the desk opposite the bed. It was a good haul. A really good haul. Over five hundred dollars in cash and at least another four hundred in jewellery and personal belongings.

“So what do we do for the rest of the night?” you asked, heading to the balcony doors and opening them, letting some air into the room. “We did the job, and it's not even midnight yet.”

Javier thought about it, moving over to join you on the balcony, sitting on one of the chairs beside you, pouring whiskey into the glasses on the table. “Well, we could enjoy the rest of our night away from camp. I, for one, am happy to not having to lie on the ground for one night, if you feel the same?” He looked over, slightly hopeful in a sense.

“That…actually sounds like a nice idea,” you admitted, taking a drag of the cigarette you had lit. You both sat there for a short while, listening to the wind whistling, the town bustling, the horses braying in the street. It was peace. Peace was not something you had felt in a while, or been able to enjoy. You planned on soaking up as much of it as you could before morning.

After an hour or so, the whiskey bottle had been poured dry, and you and Javier had chatted away until silence consumed you. But the pain of that fucking dress was ruining your whole mood. You stood slowly, huffing as you turned back to the room. Javier watched as you went, furrowing his brows as he saw your hands fiddling with the lace knot at the base of your spine. “Everything okay, hermosa?” He called out, following you into the room.

“Need to take this damned thing off, can’t feel my back at all,” you laughed. But you couldn’t untie the knot. It was intricate and fiddly, even with a mirror, you wouldn’t even know where to start. “Can you…please…” You were out of breath already from sucking in your stomach as though that would somehow loosen the lace.

“Stop fiddling, you’ll make it worse.” You heard his voice in your ear. He was right behind you, batting your hands away and taking the tie in his own fingers. He struggled for a second, you heard the laugh in his voice as he cursed at the dress in Spanish, it made you silently chuckle with him.”You’re laughing at me? I see your shoulders shaking. Keep it up and I’ll leave you to sleep in this dress, amor.”

“Please, no, get this dress off me,” you managed to say between giggles.

“Por el amor de dios,” he muttered before slicing through the lace with his knife. “Hope you weren’t planning on wearing this again.”

“You cut it?!” You exclaimed, flipping your head to the side, glaring at him amusedly. “You were defeated by a corset. We’ve found your weakness, Javi. It’s lace.”

He smiled. “Cállate,” he mused playfully. Untying the rest of the lace, you let out a huge breath as the bone corset loosened, allowing you to intake breath comfortably.

“Oh, my hero,” you whispered, breathing deeply. He murmured a ‘you’re welcome’, continuing to untangle the lace all the way up to your shoulders. He watched as the dress peeled off your body, showing your back, your spine, your shoulder blades, all encased in soft, pretty, perfect skin. He was mesmerised as he watched as you rolled your shoulders, relieving the tension in your muscles.

Javier couldn’t help but reach out, pulling your dress to the side, pushing it off your shoulder. He hadn’t noticed the way you’d stopped breathing. Hadn’t noticed the way you’d turned your head to the side, peering at him through your peripheral. Hadn’t noticed the look in your eye. Curiosity? Anticipation? Excitement? He wouldn’t have known. Didn’t know you were waiting to see what he was doing. Or what he would do next.

You felt his fingers run up your spine. Soft, yet calloused fingers dragged up your skin, running over your bones and your muscles. Your scars felt strange under his touch, but you said nothing. You didn’t want him to stop. You felt the dress slip off your other shoulder, the only thing holding the clothing up was your arm, your hand pressed flat against your chest, the fabric bunching as you supported the weight of it.

His other hand came to your waist, and you shuddered under the feeling, seemingly snapping Javier out of the trance he had locked himself in. His hands fell from your body, and he stepped back slightly. “I…sorry,” he spoke quietly. Meekly. “I’ll leave you to change.”

You turned on your heel, your eyes gazing at him. “Or you could sta-” Your words stuck to the insides of your throat as his hands cupped the sides of your neck, his head dipping down, connecting his lips to yours. He smelled of smoke and whiskey. He tasted the same, and you revelled in the taste as your tongue slipped into his mouth, melting with his own. His hands drifted to your waist, his lips travelling to your neck, to your exposed shoulder and you let the dress fall to the floor with a soft thud. His eyes explored every inch of you. But it didn’t make you feel uneasy, or uncomfortable, like when other men had laid their gaze on you, eyes filled with hunger. Javier’s eyes only shone in affection, taking in every feature, every part of your body.

“Tan hermosa, amor,” he mumbled, kissing you once again, his lips slotting against yours perfectly. He walked you backwards to the bed, and you stepped out of your shoes, kicking them aside as your thighs hit something solid. He guided you to lie on the bed, his body hovering over yours, his leg slipping between your thighs as his kisses grew heavier, passionate, hungry. Your fingers unbuttoned his shirt with ease, and he shrugged it off, his soft honey skin mixing with the candlelight across the room. Soft, fuzzy hair on his chest tickled your skin as his body pressed against yours, his right hand firmly pressed into the mattress, holding his body above yours so he didn’t crush you under his weight.

His other hand drifted to your leg, cupping under your thigh and pulling it up until it wrapped around his waist. You felt his thigh softly shift in between your legs, brushing coarsely against something sensitive, pulling a soft gasp from your throat. He smiled against your lips. “What was that, cariňa? Something feel good, hm?” God you could hear the cockiness dripping off his words. But you loved it. He knew what he was doing. Exactly what he was doing to you. So Javier repeated the motion, a little harder this time, and you moaned this time. It was like sweet nectar to his ears. “Fuck, I love the noises you make. I haven’t even started yet, sweetheart.”

His lips trailed south, down your stomach, over your tits, nipping and sucking at your flesh until it was blemished red. His beard tickled your stomach, but once he reached below your navel, every thought or feeling exited your head. He pried the underwear off your body, pulling it painfully slowly down your legs and tossing it to the ground. Looking up at you from where he was kneeled between your thighs, only inches from your already wet cunt, he looked for signs of discomfort. You gave him none. You had none. All you wanted was this. So he dove in. He couldn’t help himself. Like a man starved, he licked his tongue up your soaked pussy, groaning at the taste of you on his tongue. God, he fucking loved it. But when he found your clit with the tip of his tongue, he wished he could play the noise you made on repeat in his head forever. It was a sharp gasping moan. A pleasurable realisation that he’d find the most sensitive part of you. So he focused on it like a hawk focusing on prey. The tingles that ran through your veins overtook your senses, and you ran a hand through his hair, pulling the tie that bound it together apart to grab a fistful between your fingers.

He stayed right where you kept him, right where he wanted to be. His right arm wrapped around your thigh, pinning you in place. You didn’t know where his other hand went until you felt his finger teasing your hole. Your mouth fell open, silently begging for him to do what you knew he was thinking of doing. As though he could hear you, he slipped his finger in with ease, curling it upwards and hitting something devastatingly perfect in your core. “Shit, just like that. Please,” you whined. He gazed up at you through hooded lids. It was the first time you’d spoken since he’d kissed you. Just the way you spoke made him want to ravage you right there and then. But he couldn’t. He had to take his time with you. He didn’t know when he’d next get time alone with you like this.

Adding another finger, he felt your juices coat him, drown his fingers inside you. His jaw ached, but he couldn’t stop, not when he felt your thighs clench around his head, caging him in. His fingers moved with deft precision, hitting that spot inside that made your legs shake against his ears. Your moans filled the room, urging Javier on. You felt his fingers speed up, thrusting harder and deeper inside you, his tongue toying with your clit and sending shockwaves up your spine.

You felt the cusp of something perfect building up inside you, and your back arched against the sheets, your grip tightening in Javi’s hair. “Yes, yes, fuck. I’m close, Javi,” you whispered into the darkness, the sun completely gone from the sky for the night, letting the moon take the limelight right outside your window.

But Javier had different plans, his fingers forcefully pulling out of your cunt and leaving you feeling empty. Your head lifted off the mattress in an instant, seeing the smirk playing at his lips. Javier kissed your inner thigh, kicking off his boots as he crawled up your body. “What are you doing, Javi?” You whined, leaning into his deep kiss. Tasting yourself on his tongue felt strange, but you liked it, you learned quickly.

“Well, I want you to come. But not on my fingers, darlin’.” His voice was husky, needy. God, you could have cum at just his voice at that point. Your hands drifted to his pants, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his trousers. “That’s what I thought.”

He tilted your face back up to his as he felt your fingers drift along cock, confined beneath his underwear. “Please, Javi,” you breathed, palming his erection gently.

“Let me take care of you, hermosa.” His hand enclosed around your wrist, pulling it away from his cock and over your head, doing the same with your other hand. Holding himself up against the mattress once again, he freed his cock with his other hand, teasing the tip of it through your folds. God, you needed him. Your pussy was practically begging for him.

The second he pushed inside you, you knew you wouldn’t last long. He was thick, filling you as he eased his dick to the base inside you. Javier groaned once fully inside you, his hand coming up to grip your wrists, holding them firm against the mattress. “God, you feel good, amor. Too fuckin’ good. Need to fuck you. Please, let me fuck you.” Fuck, he was begging you now. It made you clench around him, causing him to grunt against your neck.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, closing him in, pushing his body further against yours. Your foot nudged against his ass, grinding his dick into you. “Javi, please. Please fuck me.”

Without warning, he thrust hard and deep in you. You cried out his name, and it set him off in a feral kind of motion. The tip of his cock brushed against your core with each thrust, balls slapping against your ass with each movement. Javier propped himself on his knees, his hand gripping your wrists, his other hand gripping the outside of your thigh, fingers kneading into your ass. He rocked into you at an animalistic pace, the bed shaking and creaking, the headboard knocking against the wall in perfect rhythm with his hips. Words escaped you, his cock rendering you to a moaning mess beneath him. God, you were a perfect sight. He cursed in Spanish, nearing his own high. Javier watched as you fell apart, your face contorted in pleasure, your leg sliding off his back and onto the mattress, completely spread for him to see.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” you managed to say between thrusts. You were close. So fucking close. And so was he. You could feel it. The way his hips faltered sometimes, his laboured breathing, the strength in the way he held you pinned against the mattress, completely submissive underneath him.

“Come on, hermosa, come for me. Come on my cock, I know you can,” he gritted through his teeth, pushing a few more forceful pumps inside your sopping pussy until you finally clenched around him hard. You flooded his cock, your insides tensed and clamped around his dick. Javier followed not too far behind, his cum spurting out and painting your walls in white.

The only sound in the room was your matching breaths. Heavy, and desperate. His face buried in the crook of your neck, kissing your salty skin, his teeth dragging along your pulse. Javier rolled onto his side, pulling you with him so he didn’t have to pull out of you just yet.

You laid on his chest, the sweat on your skin sticking you together, but you didn’t care. The breeze of the open balcony doors would cool you both eventually.

“I’m glad I chose to come on this job with you,” Javier whispered to you. You couldn’t help but giggle, hearing the smile in his voice.

You turned your head to look up at him. His hair was slicked back, you never saw it like this. You only saw him with his hair tied back. “Me too, Javi.” He leaned down to kiss you softly, gently brushing his lips against yours.

“We should go on jobs together in the future. Gotta keep eachother company, you know?” He smirked as you rolled your eyes.

“Oh, so just on jobs, Escuella?”

His eyebrow quirked up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You smiled. “Your tent is off limits?”

“Absolutely not. After this, I’d be honoured to have you in my tent whenever you’d like, amor. You just say the word.”

Camp felt different after the job. Javier was more open and affectionate with you. Kissing the top of your head when bringing you coffee if you were on morning watch. He’d sit with you at the campfire and let you play around with his guitar. He fucked you gently in his tent at night, covering your mouth so Bill had nothing to bring up at breakfast. Everyone noticed. But said nothing. It’s almost like they had expected it to go exactly like this. Hosea especially.

#fluff #smut #fanfiction #fanfic #rdr2 #javier escuella #rdr2 x reader #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption x reader #javier escuella x reader #javier escuella rdr2 #javier escuella smut #rdr2 fanfiction #rdr2 smut

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marvels-meme · 2 months

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Canon worldbuilding lore on the MCU Kree to help you with your fanfic

They rule over multiple planets. Hala is the capital.

Hala's star is called Pama

In the comics there are around five known planets in Hala's system - it's unclear if Hala is 4th or 5th planet because it's been confused with another planet, Turunal.

Hala is located in the Larger Magellanic Cloud

Hala had oceans and forests (rip to those tho lol)

Leader of the Empire is called the "Supremor"

The Supreme Intelligence was basically god

The collective is one idea of the afterlife — if your brain is worthy it joins the Supreme Intelligences database when you die.

The spiritual afterlife is called the Etherplex or something idk

Their technology is somewhat water based (need more info on this)

Architecture is heavy on metal and stone and is very geometric. Buildings are detailed but there generally isn't too much furniture.

Cyan and purplish lights for a big chunk of Hala, golden lights for the Supreme Intelligence.

No hanging paintings... If you want art you have to hire someone to paint your wall lol

Starforce generally have one room apartments, I couldn't see a kitchen in them.

Stuff like wardrobes, book shelves, cupboards and drawers are more likely to be inserted into the wall to save space.

Like Carol literally lived in a single room with a bed, nightstand and a hexagonal cup. The ideal female living space.

They have hexagonal cups (I just thought that was cute)

The military is a big deal! Other respectable careers involve teaching, medicine, typically intelligent jobs that give something to society.

Kids are trained from a young age in the military. They're called "recruits". There's a deleted scene of Yon-Rogg teaching some.

The military hierarchy is likely Supremor > Accuser > Starforce > Kree Army > Non Kree Army > War slaves.

The Accusers aren't just extra bad military. They uphold the law, make arrests, hold trials, decide punishments, etc. I'd imagine that this is typically done for more important criminals or prisoners of war. That's why Dar-Benn holds an Accuser hammer as Supremor — she's upholding the law.

Kree Law is vaguely structured around the Tablets of Koth — they aren't definitive but they are the main basis.

Questioning your leaders is technically illegal

The worst crime of all is being "un-Kree".

Kree supremacy is big. In the comics it's illegal for Kree to have children with other species. They will tolerate other races if they’re feeling nice about it, but ultimately the Kree come first. This is important in the context of Carol's relationship with Yon-Rogg.

There's racism of blue Kree > non blue Kree in the comics but it doesn't appear to be present in the MCU. Keep it in mind though.

The Kree originally evolved to have blue skin because of low oxygen levels on Hala. Non blue kree came later as a result of mixing with other species. Since making babies with another species has been illegality for probably millenia, non blue Kree are now just another skin tone of the species.

Sexism isn't a thing. Yon-Rogg isn't sexist to Carol he's being racist too her lol

There are groups of noble families with some quite strict rules about battle. If a noble is cornered in battle with no way out they have to drink the special suicide juice or else they are shamed.

The suicide juice is called Odium, which means hate in Latin. If you sip it you go crazy with rage, get super strength and start trying to fight everything until it makes your heart explode

In the comics the Kree have double that of human organs — ie two hearts, four lungs. Brain is probably an exception. They have stronger bones and heavier muscle mass.

Kree blood has healing properties strong enough to bring a species with simple DNA (like humans) back from the dead but it's super duper painful and like 7/8 of the people that have received it have been given some kind of amnesia afterwards

Carol was one of those humans lol rip queen

Apparently the amnesia thing isn't even hard to do? In Agents of Shield a Kree had a tiny little hammer and he'd slap people with it and they'd loose their memories (I doubt that Carol was slapped with a tiny hammer but you never know this might help you)

Propaganda art - there are some gorgeous statues and murals in the Captain Marvel concept art.

Fashion is generally dark. Black, grey and brown for most people. It's not too complicated. White appears to be for underclothes/sleeping wear.

Well it's not too complicated unless you are the Supremor. Remember, Dar-Benn is succeeding the position from their idea of god. She's dressed to the tens and stands out the most from literally everyone. Her stuff is more detailed and metallic and she's wearing a lot more jewellery.

Also notice how Dar-Benn changes outfits literally every ten minutes. I need Marvel to stop killing all the cunty villains because I deserved to study her entire wardrobe thank you very much

A few Kree women (including Carol) have the style of one side being braided and the other let down.

The Kree are encouraged to experiment with as many genders as possible

So technically Carol Danvers lesbian sex canon

Some people grow babies in big tanks. Why? To make them strong or something idk. Carol's comic half sister was born in a big tank bc they wanted her to be strong asf to serve as an Accuser

Swear words — I only know da'st. No idea what it means

They don't have a word for candy </3

Normal space currency is called credits. Kree currency is called kreedits. If that's not the funniest fucking thing ever I don't know what is.

Kree names are "your name-family name". Eg Yon-Roggs given name is Yon, but his surname is Rogg. His daughters name is Una-Rogg.

You generally don't separate the name. Yon-Roggs name isn't Yon, it's Yon-Rogg. Obviously there's exceptions, but that's the general naming rule. It wouldn't be outright wrong to call him Yon, it would just be uncommon and slightly weird.

The Kree have beef with every species ever. They had multiple wars with the Asgardians and the Xandarians.

I've probably missed something lol

Anyways: Arab.org daily click to help Palestine 🍉

#marvels-meme #not a meme #marvel #mcu #the marvels #marvel cinematic universe #captain marvel #carol danvers #worldbuilding #actually canon!#captain marvel (2019)#the marvels (2019)#kree marvel #mcu kree #dar-benn #yon-rogg #its 1 am yay...

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wen-kexing-apologist · 8 months

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A Pause for Reflection: Part 2- Only Friends, Racism, and the Commodification of Queer Asians

Hello! It is me, your friendly neighborhood wen-kexing-apologist. Before Only Friends aired, knowing how sex heavy this show was setting up to be, I decided it might be kinda funny if instead of posting my initial reactions to the episodes, which I knew were going to be something akin to an incomprehensible key smash, if I instead committed to a bit where I wrote very dry, academic essays on sex and sex imperatives in Only Friends.

Well, I wrote an essay on Boston, his cruising habits, and my speculations around him being an embodiment of older queer culture expecting like…three people maybe to make it through legitimately 13 written pages with block text citations. But it did surprisingly well, and so now I have decided to full send.

In my first Taking Pause post, I wrote about respectable promiscuity and the way I felt that concept impacted perceptions of queer people and queer culture, especially as it relates to engagement with Only Friends. This time, I want to dampen the mood a bit further, and discuss racism and its impact on perceptions of queer Asian characters in the BL industry. This was spurred by Only Friends and especially inspired by the posts I have seen going around that project false purity on flawed characters, but will cover Asian BL engagement more broadly as well.

Disclaimer: I am a white Westerner, addressing this post primarily to white Westerners, and using Western sources.

The Commodification of Queer Asian Men

Racism is a complex subject, and while people of color are not absolved of white supremacy mindsets through colorism, this invitation for conversation is mostly geared towards my fellow white Westerners. Racism is persistent, pervasive, and insidious in part because we do not always know when and how our own personal biases and learned racism impacts how we interact with the world, or in this case media.

With the increasing mainstream acceptance of gays and lesbians, and the increasing visibility of LGBT folks more generally, gay space and straight space, gay sociality and straight sociality, are increasingly blended (Dean, 2014). The commodification of gayness is only one example of this. (Ahlm, 2017)

We are frequently spoiled by BL because of how much exposure to queer people in stories we are allowed to see. These stories are not primarily or inherently made for queer people, but what this massive index of gay shows gives the general public is large amounts of exposure to the concept of gay people (about queers), and growing popularity allows for a rapid commodification of queer Asian experience.

I want to take a second to show the definitions of commodification, so anyone reading this is aware of what lenses I am working from.

Commodification: to turn (something, such as an intrinsic value or a work of art) into a commodity (Miriam-Webster)

Commodity:

an economic good: such as…c. a mass-produced unspecialized product

a. something useful or valued; b. convenience, advantage

a good or service whose wide availability typically leads to smaller profit margins and diminishes the importance of factors (such as brand name) other than price

one that is subject to ready exchange or exploitation within a market (Miriam-Webster)

Personally, I think it is reasonable to argue that BL and BL branded pairs are exploited by and are an exploitation of the market. We have seen the number of in-universe ads in our standard Thai BLs, the number of BLs being created every year is increasing with the understanding that these shows can be profitable, sell products, sell concert tickets, sell out theaters, make money on fan events, etc.. I think many of us have begun to love when Oishi Green Tea, Nivea Micellar Water, or Canon printers show up in our BLs, but it cannot be denied or ignored that those are commercials for products being sold to us through the images of queer characters and within queer stories. Meaning, the queer stories we are able to interact with en masse are there to sell us a product as well as a story.

How does this relate to racism? By making queer characters of color sell products within the stories they exist in, we establish a relationship to queer characters of color that extends the commodification of queer men of color themselves beyond what already exists by nature of racism and white supremacy within queer spaces:

It’s almost as if no gay men of color exist outside of fantasy cruises to Jamaica, Puerto Rico, or the ‘Orient’. And even then, they exist only to fulfill the sexual fantasies of gay white men. ‘Exotic’ vacations to far away places are marketed to rich white men and [low income] colored bodies are only another consumable product easily purchased with western dollars. As such, gay men of color, whether found within western borders or conveniently waiting for white arrival in the far off corners of the globe, are nothing more than commodities for consumption. (Chong-suk Han, 2007)

How many shows have we gotten out of GMMTV in recent years that are absent, or near-absent of in-universe ads? Three? The Eclipse, The Warp Effect, and Only Friends? What themes are at the center of these shows that may make them distasteful to corporations trying to sell their products?

Now, I entered the BL scene after The Eclipse aired, so I don’t know what its reception was like at the time. But I am pretty certain it was a popular show. Yet, I have personally witnessed the adverse and negative reactions to, especially Ayan, when Our Skyy 2 x The Eclipse aired and we saw Ayan keeping a secret that was hurting Akk’s feelings. I saw the sheer amount of posts coming out of tumblr about how Akk and Ayan were characterized so wrong in this show. And, I am trying to be polite here, but there were just grossly misrepresentative takes on tumblr about the characters we got on screen in OS2, who were extremely in character based on the source material, and not the idea of the characters we have built up in our heads as the lines between Ayan and Khaotung or Akk and First blurred over time.

The Warp Effect is a show I have constantly been asking people to watch as Only Friends approached and continue to market as required viewing while we are still in the early stages of Only Friends, but it was not widely watched as far as I could tell from the activity on my own tumblr feed and from the number of people I saw reblogging my Case for Watching TWE post who said they had yet to see it. And I get it, it was marketed more as a heterosexual show rather than a BL, but I will go down swinging to defend my position on that show as The Queerest Show of 2023 (so far).

I think about all the ways people on tumblr have re-written certain characters in their minds to be purer, less morally dubious, more babygirl in order for them to justify loving and supporting a character that is either objectively a terrible person or who has made any number of mistakes that have gotten themselves or others hurt. Listen, my most beloved gay boys are Wen Kexing and Akk but I will be the first to tell you both those men are war criminals. That is not a joke. I love Akk to death as a character, and he let a car roll into a crowd of protestors.

Which is to say, that I am personally made to feel very uncomfortable when I see people twisting the realities of who queer Asian characters are in order to create a false, more pure and innocent version of who they want queer Asian characters to be. Why? Because it treats queer Asian male characters like dolls, like objects to manipulate and control, rather than as the people they are written and intended to be, and the fanservice that is expected of the actors that portray them is not much different:

At the same time that they are invisible, gay Asian men are also seen as being exotic, submissive fantasies for white men. However, being seen as exotic and submissive is yet another form of subtle racism where gay Asian men are not seen as individuals but as a consumable product for white male fantasy (Ayres, 1999). (Chong-suk Han, 2007)

And yeah, I know some of you may try to deflect this by saying or thinking “wka this quote is about white men and thus does not apply to me” it does. It does apply.

On the Subject of Fan Service

These production companies make a lot of money off of selling the fanbase the idea that these actors are romantically involved outside of their acting careers. GMMTV and Idolfactory are perhaps the most committed studios to fanservice that I have seen, often to the detriment of the health and safety of their talent and potentially their own financial interests. He’s Coming to Me was delayed, and had it’s distribution fucked with because fans protested Singto being separated from Krist and paired up with Ohm for one show. Freen was recorded and blackmailed with a video that showed she was in a romantic relationship with Seng. Articles were published making it seem like it was a truly wild concept that Man Trisanu and Ben Bunyapol were acting to create the chemistry they get on screen. These companies know they can make money off of the fictions they create, both the ones we see as television shows, and the ones we see in fan meet ups. These people are actors, some may date, some may not, some may be really good friends, some may hate each other’s guts, but the fact of the matter is we will never know for sure. Everything we see on camera is a performance.

How Objectification of Queer Asian Men Relates to Only Friends

I mean…

I don’t know about you all, but I have seen post after post of people projecting images of purity and perfection on to Mew, twisting themselves forward and backward to justify a character’s objectively terrible decisions, or finding scapegoats to blame for their blorbo’s actions. I have seen people truly, legitimately struggle with seeing their favorite acting pair engaging in intimate scenes with different scene partners. And, to me it reads like some audience members are physically unable to separate the actor from their character, or to accurately identify reality from fiction. These are actors, they are playing characters, we know how good of actors they are. We are all aware of how much of a chameleon First is with his roles, how powerful Khao is at portraying grief on screen, how expressive Book is, etc.

Force and Book are not fucking, Book is not stringing Force along, Force is not fucking Neo and potentially breaking Book’s heart. Top and Mew are fucking (or will). Mew is stringing Top along. Top is fucking Boston and potentially breaking Mew’s heart. Khaotung is not ditching First to go rescue Book, First is not trying and failing to maintain boundaries with Khaotung. Ray is ditching Sand to go rescue Mew, Sand is trying and failing to maintain boundaries with Ray.

Harkening back to fanservice. Personally, I believe that only ever marketing “love pairs” (aka Force and Book’s characters as a romantic couple or First and Khao’s characters as a romantic couple on screen) severely severely limits the acting potential for any and all of the performers involved in those couplings. Can you imagine what Only Friends would be like with Neo and Louis, rather than Neo and Mark? Louis is great, but I’m not sure that he could do pining simp, or angry revenge the same way Mark can. You can see how good of a match up Fluke Pusit was with Thor in The Warp Effect and you can see how good Fluke Pusit was with Ohm Thipakorn in A Boss and a Babe.

As I mentioned in Part One, Jojo has said there is going to be sex in every episode. We know these boys have already hurt each other and will continue to hurt each other. We know these boys have already slept around and will continue to do so. There is no need to vilify a character for being a flawed human being. There is absolutely no need to vilify an actor for portraying a character who is a flawed human being. We don’t need to uplift the characters that are withholding their sexuality from others as inherently good, moral, victims of the inherently bad, immoral, predators ruining their lives with their high sex drives.

…popular culture is permeated with ideas that erotic variety is dangerous, unhealthy, depraved, and a menace to everything from small children to national security. Popular sexual ideology is a noxious stew made up of ideas of sexual sin, concepts of psychological inferiority… and xenophobia. The mass media nourish these attitudes with relentless propaganda…

All these hierarchies of sexual value- religious, psychiatric, and popular- function in much the same way as do ideological systems of racism, ethnocentrism, and religious chauvinism. They rationalize the well-being of the sexually privileged and the adversity of the sexual rabble…this kind of sexual morality has more in common with ideologies of racism than with true ethics. (Rubin, 1984)

I am begging people who are having difficulty seeing their favorite actor be shitty on screen to take a pause, take a breath, remember that they are actors, playing a fictional character in a fictional role. Fictional characters performing fictional actions has not, does not, and will not ever be a true and definitive indicator of that actor’s own personality, morals, or beliefs. Boston being an asshole does not mean Neo is an asshole. Ray being an asshole does not mean that Khao is an asshole just as Gaipa being kind does not mean that Khao is kind. Jojo and co are not monsters for creating a manipulative character(s), or including physical fist fights, drug use, promiscuity, cheating, sexual assault, abortion, kink, fatshaming etc. etc in to their works. You are not a bad person for liking imperfect characters who engage in bad actions, and you don’t need to create scenarios that place blame for those actions on others in order to justify liking a character. Everyone on that set appeared to have a great time, and Jojo stated very clearly that all scenes were run by the actors in those scenes and anything the actors were not comfortable with being shown to a broader audience were immediately deleted. The actors were granted agency and autonomy that is not usually seen and we are seeing the performance they want to share with us, the performance they liked. That does not mean they themselves approve outside of fiction of the behaviors their characters may portray.

Conclusion

We all need to, but white Westerners especially, be extremely careful and introspective with the ways we are engaging with queer Asian media. We need to be careful and introspective with the ways we are engaging with queer Asian characters. Asian BLs, Thai BLs especially lean heavily in to the commodification of queer Asian stories and characters. GMMTV sells products, and uses their talent as the salespeople, which I personally believe makes their talent, and the characters in their stories far more susceptible to objectification than, say, Japanese BLs that do not distribute their work as easily, or cater as readily to international audiences.

As @bengiyo said in his post, it is totally totally fine if you do not like something. Only Friends could not be your style, there could be themes that are triggering for you, etc. that’s fine. But if you are refusing to engage with this Only Friends because Force as Top acted like he was fucking Neo as Boston, or squirming about whether or not you can watch other shows these actors are in going forward because their performances as dumb, horny college students in Only Friends made you question the actor’s morality, then I truly, deeply, and fully beg you to pause, take a step back, and reflect upon what it is about witnessing these behaviors that is causing your reaction.

I want to end with the following quote:

Thus, white men can choose when they want to be objectified, but men of color are simply objects. As discussed above, existing only as props for white male consumption represents another subtle form of racism. As Tony Ayres notes: First, there is overt belligerence…The second response is the exact opposite of this racist antagonism. It is an attraction to me because of my Asianness, my otherness ... This has nothing to do with my individual qualities as a person ... It is the fact that I conveniently fit into someone else’s fantasy (1999, p. 89) (Chong-suk Han, 2007)

As a reminder that we as fans, need to take a step back and consider if, when, and how we are objectifying queer Asian men. We are seeing a huge period of growth in the Asian BL industry, which means we are very likely to get more shows where we are going to see more stories like Only Friends that center realistic depictions of gay Asians as written and directed by gay Asians. And we have to check our privilege, homophobia, and racism at the door.

Sources

Ahlm, Jody (2017) Respectable promiscuity: Digital cruising in an era of queer liberalism, Sexualities, DOI: 10.1177/1363460716665783

Chong-suk Han (2007) They Don't Want To Cruise Your Type: Gay

Men of Color and the Racial Politics of Exclusion, Social Identities, 13:1, 51-67, DOI:

10.1080/13504630601163379 Rubin, Gayle (1984) The Thinking Sex: Notes for a Radical Theory of the Politics of Sexuality- Chapter 9: The Sex Wars.

(thank you to @bengiyo, @lurkingshan, @neuroticbookworm, @so-much-yet-to-learn, and @waitmyturtles for your beta readings!)

#only friends #only friends the series #ofts #sandray #topmew #topboston #bostonnick #forcebook #firstkhao #neomark #wka long post #jojo tichakorn #the eclipse #the warp effect #the eclipse the series #twe #our skyy 2 #our skyy 2 x the eclipse

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wangxianficfinder · 5 months

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In the mood for...

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1. ITMF a fic where the Lans or the neis or the cultivation world in general find out about the abuse wwx takes at jiang sect and the other sects trying to help him @zerokogane

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2. Have you all seen maze runner? Yeah. I want a wangxian maze runner version/fusion/setting/same plot or something!!

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3. A) ITMF fics where, in a wedding Wei Ying catches the flowers/bouquet brides throw?

Itmf fics where B) wwx is like a mystery unsolved to anyone and everyone

C) wwx is a magician. Like those cool tricky people uk. Could be real / fake magic. @constellationdks

3B)

Old Foreshadows by protos_metazu_ison (M, 15k, WangXian, YLLZ WWX, BAMF WWX, War, Universe Alteration, Sunshot Campaign) not sure i'm understanding the request, but maybe one of these?

🔒 never been away so long by sundiscus (G, <1k, wangxian, Modern, Pre-Relationship, First Meetings, Ambiguous/Open Ending, (but a happy ending in the endnotes!), Ghosts)

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4. Hello, thank you, my favorite fic comes from your recs. Any fic recs for lan xichen x jiang yanli. No modern era please @dramaqueenrolf

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5. hii, for the next imtf can I ask for a fic where lwj and wwx break up and r mopey about it? a modern au maybe, like there's no promised goodbye here

thank you!! @mercurygirlwt28

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6. Hello! I have a read fics where the characters cultivate to immortality and the story picks up with their lives in modern era. I like the combo of traditional clothes, cultures, and canon personalities in the modern setting. Are there more fics like this? (I cannot remember the names of the two I have read in the past. In one I think WWX loses his memory and regains it upon backpacking to modern Cloud Recesses? In the other WWX time travels to modern and meets LWJ who has lived all those years.)

ridiculous future bullshit by sami (M, 61k, wangxian, WQ/JC/LXC, LSZ & WWX, LSZ/Other(s), LSZ & his family, JYL/OMC, Future Fic, movies, the rewriting of history if the past was different the future is different, But still ridiculous, Humor, the evolution of fashion, immortals through history, LWJ visits other cultures and judges them, Modern, best boy LSZ, Pride Parades, Cats, the legend of WQ, Academia, Border Crossings, biosecurity, oz quarantine is SERIOUS BUSINESS, Kinda cultivated to immortality, Paperwork, Family, Parents and Children, Uncles and nephews, the mortifying ordeal of your family seeing how you really live, Social Media, Chaos Gremlin WWX, Slight Hostage Situations, University, outsider pov, WWX vs Local Culture, actions have consequences, Pets, Movie Stars, Fluff) though it’s a sequel to And Time Is But A Paper Moon so some people are immortal in RFB who died in canon.

Thanks for giving me an excuse to dig up one of my favorite tropes from my bookmarks!! The Future is Ours to Keep series by makebelieveanything & nerdzeword (T, 25k, wangxian, JC & WWX, JC & YZY, JYL/LQY/WQ, post-canon, modern, immortality, reincarnation, healthy family relationships, epistolary, groupchats, fluff) Some beloved cast is immortal in modern times, some reincarnated

Ever Thine, Ever Mine, Ever Ours. by JaenysBloodcourt (T, 3k, WangXian, Immortal LWJ and WWX, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Well it could be a Bittersweet Ending, Love Confessions) Wangxian are immortal, but have pined for a thousand years, and (spoiler!!!) they do get together but mind the bittersweet ending!!!!!!

dark and glimmering by Sanguis (T, 5k, wangxian, post-canon, modern, technology malfunction, established relationship, married couple, immortality) Beautiful and wangxian-centric, not so much about the modern world. But the world is around

Wandering Souls, Wild Ghosts by belleweather (E, 49k, wangxian, post-canon, victorian au, case fic, rentboys, smut, married wangxian, immortality, canon-typical violence, period-typical sexism & racism & homophobia, voyeurism, families of choice) Victorian England with immortal!wangxian’s adventures!

Traditions Series by Witch_Nova221 (G, 7k, WangXian, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Tree, Christmas Presents, Modern with Magic, modern day cultivators, Cloud Recesses, Established Relationship, Married Couple, Married Life, family traditions, wangxian family feels, Romance, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff, immortal cultivators)

A Tale of Two Immortals by esk95 (M, 31k, WIP, WangXian, XiCheng, XuanLi, Post-Canon, Like waaaaay Post-Canon Modern AU, but cultivation still exists, Immortality, Reincarnation, Pretty much everyone is a reincarnation except Wangxian, Secret Identities, Modern with Magic, Immortal!Wangxian) A beloved wip: Immortal wangxian try to solve a mystery, poor Sizhui just wants to be a cultivator and have support of his parents who don’t know anything about cultivation (lol), a lot of reincarnated folk around

MDZS: The Golden Engine by iffervescent (E, 82k, WangXian, XiCheng, Explicit Sexual Content, Immortals) The summary says it all: “In the modern era, immortals Lan Zhan and Wei Wuxian return to Gusu. New evil and old friends + new friends and old evils.”

All Old Things are New Again Series by The Feels Whale (miscellea) (M, 59k, WIP, WangXian, XuanLi, ChengQing, Reincarnation, Modern AU, canon still happened, extreme post canon, Sugar Daddy, Kink Negotiation, gentle dom!LWJ, canonical levels of consent play, Modern Cultivators, Epilogues, yunmeng bros reconciliation, rabbit acquisition) has some immortal lwj and lxc with reincarnation wwx,and it's amazing.

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7. ITMF fics which have wwx's ghosts. Remember ghost brides? And that ghoul child? They don't have to have a major part or something, just the fuc having wwx talking and being friends with ghosts.

It can also have the ghosts taking care of wwx. Loving him and all uk

when the sun goes out by travelingneuritis (E, 176k, WangXian, Modern Cultivation, tech cultivation, Necromancy, Angst with a Happy Ending, insecurity around adoption, Dad!WWX, dad!lwj, Grief/Mourning, Mistaken Identity, Mood Whiplash, Body Swap, sex tears!, Falling In Love, Consensual Somnophilia, apocalypse (localized), Smut, unrealistic sexual stamina, Flashbacks, Time Skips, Illustrations) if you're okay with OC ghosts I highly recommend When the Sun Goes Out by travelingneuritis, it's one of my favorite fics and wwx's relationship with his ghost army (Kaichuang in particular) is one of the reasons why

Ad Oblivione by Baph, HikariNoHimeWriter (M, 70k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, POV Multiple, Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Identity Reveal, Golden Core Reveal, Cultivation World Critical, Not JC Friendly, Abusive YZY, Angst with a Happy Ending) WWX has a ghost companion who helps him & acts as a mother figure towards him

let the sun go down on your anger; let it burn you to sleep by enbysaurus_rex (Not rated, 86k, wangxian, WQ & WWX, graphic depictions of violence, chronic illness, narcolepsy, chronic pain, YLLZ WWX, oblivious WWX, sleeping beauty elements, body horror, WIP) has pretty much every one of Wei Wuxian's ghosts playing a part and teaming up with his family to help take care of him in their own way

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8. hii, for the itmf

are there any fics w the trope "someone who believes they're hard to love and someone who loves then like it's breathing?

I hope ure having a nice day!!

~*~

9. Any fics where yu ziyuan treats wwx like a son or nephew??

And Time Is But a Paper Moon by sami (M, 139k, WangXian, XiChengQing, Time Travel, Fix-It, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Healing, Mental Health Issues, PTSD, Hurt/Comfort, Depression, BAMF WWX, BAMF JC, BAMF LWJ, BAMF JYL, Getting Together)

Sail Away Sweet Sister by sami (M, 73k, WangXian, YZY/CSSR/MDM Lan, MingLi, Time Travel, EXTREME Canon Divergence, Wide Focus Narrative, Some People Live/Not Everyone Dies, Most Named/Canon Characters Live, Childhood Friends to Lovers, Families of Choice, Parenthood, this work contains a major tonal shift, Fluff, Angst, Underage Sex, not particularly explicit, but not at all ambiguous, PTSD, Only a tiny bit, Unforeseeable consequences, The butterfly effect, Slightly Dark JYL, Asexual Characters, but that’s not really the focus, Canon-Typical Violence) Also most of sami's time travel fics. this one for sure, probably a few others in the Same Moon series

Across the street to another life by danegen (M, 99k, WangXian, Modern AU, unleashed au, Family Fluff, Set in America, Hurt/Comfort, Past Child Abuse, Addiction, Crime, Amnesia, Ableist Language, another fridged mother, POV Alternating, past wwx/ofc, past wwx/omc, Medium parent YZY, A-Yuan is wwx’s biological son, Musicians, Happy Ending) it's mostly late in the fic but "across the street to another life" REALLY earns that "medium parent yu ziyuan" tag. Far from perfect but really steps up when it matters.

Hope series by RoseThorne (T, 57k, wangxian, WWX & YZY, WWX & JFM, WWX & JYL, YZY/JFM, JC & WWX, LQR & WWX, LXC & JYL, Madam Jin & YZY, LQR & JFM, LXC & LWJ, Transmigration, Time Travel Fix-It, Illnesses, Family, Scars, Memory Loss, Angst, Crying, Music, Nosebleed, Fear, Recovery, Nightmares, Sharing a Bed, Flirting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Good Parent YZY, Referenced Sexual Slavery, Blood and Gore, Monsters, Sexual Tension, betrothal, Arranged Marriage, Grief, Adoption, POV Third Person, POV Alternating, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Good Parent LQR, Clairvoyance, Butterfly Effect, Kid Fic, Epistolary, Food, Secrets, Resentful Energy, Cultivation Sect Politics, Character Death)

The Best Gift by Lan_Wangjoe (E, 45k, WangXian, Modern AU, Mistaken Identity, Miscommunication Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Family Fluff, Family Dynamics, Falling In Love, Idiots in Love, Dorks in Love, Nice LQR, Meet the Family, Nerdiness, Science Boyfriends, Science Experiments, Fake Science, Science Husbands, Geeks, Work Contains Fan(s) or Fandom(s), Fandom Allusions & Cliches & References, Fans & Fandom AU, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Adopted Children, Marriage of Convenience, Secret Marriage, Didn't Know They Were Dating, Stupidity, Himbo LXC, Lan Himbos, Lán Family Feels, Everyone Is Alive, Everyone Thinks They're Together, Good Parents JFM and YZY, Genius WWX, Geniuses)

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10. Does anybody have anything where it’s just Immortal(one of them could be reincarnated and recultivated immortality) Wangxian being happy through the ages or in modern society? (Preferably modern Cultivation society) @omgnectarina

The Future is Ours to Keep series by makebelieveanything & nerdzeword (T, 25k, wangxian, JC & WWX, JC & YZY, JYL/LQY/WQ, post-canon, modern, immortality, reincarnation, healthy family relationships, epistolary, groupchats, fluff) (link in #6) Some beloved cast is immortal in modern times, some reincarnated

Ever Thine, Ever Mine, Ever Ours. by JaenysBloodcourt (T, 3k, WangXian, Immortal LWJ and WWX, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Well it could be a Bittersweet Ending, Love Confessions) (link in #6) Wangxian are immortal, but have pined for a thousand years, and (spoiler!!!) they do get together but mind the bittersweet ending!!!!!!

dark and glimmering by Sanguis (T, 5k, wangxian, post-canon, modern, technology malfunction, established relationship, married couple, immortality) (link in #6) Beautiful and wangxian-centric, not so much about the modern world. But the world is around

Wandering Souls, Wild Ghosts by belleweather (E, 49k, wangxian, post-canon, victorian au, case fic, rentboys, smut, married wangxian, immortality, canon-typical violence, period-typical sexism & racism & homophobia, voyeurism, families of choice) (link in #6) Victorian England with immortal!wangxian’s adventures!

A Tale of Two Immortals by esk95 (M, 31k, WIP, WangXian, XiCheng, XuanLi, Post-Canon, Like waaaaay Post-Canon Modern AU, but cultivation still exists, Immortality, Reincarnation, Pretty much everyone is a reincarnation except Wangxian, Secret Identities, Modern with Magic, Immortal!Wangxian) (link in #6) A beloved wip: Immortal wangxian try to solve a mystery, poor Sizhui just wants to be a cultivator and have support of his parents who don’t know anything about cultivation (lol), a lot of reincarnated folk around

MDZS: The Golden Engine by iffervescent (E, 82k, WangXian, XiCheng, Explicit Sexual Content, Immortals) (link in #6) The summary says it all: “In the modern era, immortals Lan Zhan and Wei Wuxian return to Gusu. New evil and old friends + new friends and old evils.”

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11. Itmf pregnant wwx doesn’t realize he is pregnant at first. Broody, hormonal, instinctive, etc., can be foxxian but doesn’t have to be. Bonus points if LWJ has it figured out. Any era is fine.

I didn't know I was pregnant! by Haunted_Cheese (G, 1k, WangXian, A/B/O Dynamics, Modern AU, Mpreg, Unplanned Pregnancy, Childbirth, Omega WWX, Alpha LWJ, Pregnant WWX)

🔒Little fall of rain by luckymoonly (M, 10k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, WWX didn't know he was pregnant, Mpreg, Mention of Birth, Family Feels, Nielan himbo rights, soft LQR, Misunderstandings, jealous lwj, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Smut, Breastfeeding, Thirsty Granny Wen, JGS being his usual self)

🔒Surprise Baby! by trulywicked (M, 10k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Modern Cultivation, Mpreg, Unplanned Pregnancy, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Didn't know he was pregnant, birthing scene, Little bit of blood, A/B/O Dynamics, Inspired by Twitter, Established Relationship, Fluff)

Blood, Google, and Love by Prairie_Grass (E, 4k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, they were roommates, A/B/O Dynamics, Getting Together, Mpreg, semi graphic giving birth, Alpha LWJ, Omega wwx, Intersex Omegas, (or you could head-canon WWX as trans if you wanted), Fluff and Angst, the run-on sentences are on-purpose because WWX and LWJ are both:, neurodiverse characters, slightly traumatic birth)

Impermanence, Transience, Permanence by Best Bepsy (BepsyGray) (E, 39k, wangxian, canon divergence, unplanned pregnancy, mpreg, gore, sunshot campaign, assumed miscarriage, medical procedures, childbirth, golden core reveal) And the case of 'didn't know I was STILL pregnant'

Does Wei Ying have Covid? by Webawee (G, 2k, WangXian, Modern AU, A/B/O Dynamics, Mpreg, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Established Relationship, Pregnancy, Morning Sickness) there's a hillarious fic called does wei ying have covid? its exactly as it sounds our oblivious baby wwx thinks he has covid when lwj thinks wwx is scared to be pregnant/ anxious and wq is wq its great

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12. (Previous part added to FF)

if you could also recommend fics where lwj rejects wwx at first then feels so guilty about it after seeing/hearing about wwx suffering due to his rejection (just any au with this trope)?? i am a sucker for angst with a happy ending.

we are blessed in this community for all the work that you do, thank you so much! 🙇🏻‍♀️ @emkaii

When the Words Stop Coming by mrcformoso (T, 7k, WangXian, Canon Compliant, POV WWX, POV LWJ, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Pre-Sunshot Campaign, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Canonical Character Death, Love Confessions, Rejection, LWJ is a Panicked Gay, Temporarily Unrequited Love, Trauma, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending, Sad with a Happy Ending) Basically where WWX confesses, lwj keeps rejecting him, and canon still happens.

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13. Itmf NMJ is everyone’s big brother (also the best brother nmj).

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14. Hey, hope you're well. ITMF Wèi WuXian appreciation fics. (ex- stunted, starving, juvenility, hua xianle) @tinyfoxpeach

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15. Hello! I wonder if there are works, where Wei Ying died from strangulation in the field by the hands of Jiang Cheng? Thank you!

Lay my body down by tawaen (M, 48k, WWX & WQ, WWX & WN, wangxian, WWX & JYL, canon divergence, time travel, rogue cultivator WWX, no golden core transfer, not cultivation world friendly, not JC friendly, OCs) Might not be what the requester wants? WWX dies in the siege of the Burial Mounds & part of his spirit gets flung through time & latches onto the moment where he is strangled & his heart stopped & goes 'it's free real estate', resulting in a time travel AU where WWX choses to nope the fuck out of the cultivation world. He does die in that moment, but if the requester wants an angsty MCD fic, this ain't it / has Wei Ying die of strangulation but a fragment of his soul returns to that moment and he lives again.

False Catharsis by mondengel (Not Rated, 792, Horror, Angst) WWX dies. It's only 700 words but it hits hard.

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16. Hello~! ITMF hanahaki disease fics, preferably canon setting? In hanahaki trope someone who has unrequited love will grow flowers in their chest until the roots and branches kill them. Basically a curse to wither away in sadness and die unless your love is requited.

Regret Blossoms by piecrust (G, 7k, wangxian, Hanahaki Disease)

This Lantern Shines For You by apollonie (M, 10k, wangxian, Hanahaki Disease, Angst with a Happy Ending, Post-Canon, Pining WWX, WWX Needs a Hug, LWJ is a Disaster Gay)

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17. Idk if you'll answer this but do u know any fics where lwj travels back in time to his younger selfs body and gets to change how he was like with wwx? (Bonus points if it was just a dream) thanks!!! 💗

A Narrow Bridge by FrameofMind, Jo Lasalle (Jo_Lasalle) (E, 700k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Slow Burn, Getting Together, First Time, Pining while fucking, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Angst with a Happy Ending, CQL Verse, almost everybody lives/almost nobody dies, epistolary-ish, canon-ish side pairings, radishes) LWJ goes back & changes his decision at Qiongqi Path

🔒 The Second Hand Unwinds by trulywicked (E, 25k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, Time Travel Fix-It, not JC friendly, not Yúnmèng Jiāng Sect friendly, not Jiāng Family friendly, not YZY friendly, Time Travelling LWJ, Protective LWJ, Fluff, Minor Angst, Minor Character Death, JGS is his own warning, Wooing, LWJ is romantic af, Inventor WWX, Genius WWX, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Protective Gūsū Lán Sect, Supportive LXC, Good Uncle LQR, WIP) LWJ goes back to CRSA

A Matter of Time series by mrcformoso (E, 70 k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, POV LWJ, POV JC, Dark LWJ, Manipulation, Grooming, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Consensual Underage Sex, Except problematic please read warning in first chapter, Blood and Violence, Insane LWJ, Manic LWJ, Conditioning, WWX is a Lán, Minor Character Death, Confused JC, Golden Core Reveal, Good Friend NHS, WWX Isn’t Adopted by the Jiāngs, Abusive Jiāng Family, Jiāng Family Bashing, Jiāng Family Critical, POV NHS, Dark NHS, Anal Sex, Marathon Sex, Dual Cultivation, Qīnghéng-jūn Lives, LWJ Has a Big Dick, WWX Self-Lubricates, Plot Twists, Porn With Plot, Scheming NHS, Manipulative NHS, BAMF LWJ, BAMF WWX) Features dark!LWJ. Mind the tags

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If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic recs #i'm in the mood for a fic #the untamed #wangxian fic search #wangxianficfinder #long post

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