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teecupangel · 1 year

Note

On a matter of better parents - and the quote from one of fics I've read that basically implied William (possibly even yours?) should better be prepared to answer to Altair Ibn La-Ahad about his treatment if Desmond in afterlife... Imagine William passing on and really having to face all the past assassin's who may or may not have been semi aware of Desmond coasting along, and certainly were returning favor by watching his life now

We going to assume everyone who has died is in the same afterlife and not in, you know, whatever Isu bs Alexios/Kassandra went through in Elysium/Underworld/etc

By the time Bill died, Desmond would technically be dead long enough to be buddy-buddy with the rest of the dead populace of the AC franchise so... it's not just gonna be the Assassins who want to 'talk' to Bill.

My idea is that you will see Bill sitting on his heels/legs which is commonly called seiza like this:

But without the mat. The thing about this type of sitting is that it takes lots of practice to keep sitting like this for hours without feeling any pain or discomfort so it's a kind of torture for those unfamiliar with it.

So he's sitting like that and someone has placed a sign on his chest that says "Fucked up my son really badly, come yell at me" like one of those bad pet photos.

Then you'll see two long lines of people just waiting to have a go at him. The lines are so long that people are holding up signs that say "line ends here" and "priority line for ASSASSINS ONLY" then a smaller sign that is duct taped to it that says "except if you have a valid id that confirms your blood relation with William or Desmond Miles"

The lines are so long and the afterlife is... well, time is meaningless in the afterlife anyway, so everyone is just lining up and some are still walking towards the end of the line (and maybe some have already had a go but are lining up again). The loudest voice that could be heard is Claudia Auditore shouting on a megaphone

AN HOUR PER PERSON ONLY UNLESS YOU HAVE COUPONS! ALL COUPON HOLDERS MUST BE CHECKED HERE FIRST! MAXIMUM OF 3 COUPONS PER SESSION ONLY! IF YOU HAVE MORE THAN 3 COUPONS-

Claudia takes the time to glare at Altaïr, Ezio, and Connor who are actually in the normal line. Altaïr is glaring back at her, Ezio is looking at his sister with puppy dog eyes that don't work on Claudia at all and Connor looks so embarrassed being part of the shenanigans that Altaïr and Ezio had done earlier in Desmond's 'honor'. She aims the megaphone directly at them.

YOU CAN ONLY USE 3 COUPONS AT A TIME AND MUST REJOIN THE LINE! YOU CANNOT JOIN THE PRIORITY LINE AFTER USING 20 COUPONS AND MUST JOIN THE NORMAL LINE! WE DO NOT ACCEPT 100 COUPONS FOR A SINGLE SESSION! I REPEAT. WE DO NOT ACCEPT 100 COUPONS FOR A SINGLE SESSION! A BADGE SAYING 'DESMOND'S FAVORITE' DOES NOT GRANT ANY SPECIAL TREATMENT!

"But it is official!" Ezio shouts proudly as he showed the badge pinned to his robes (the badge has a chibi drawing of Desmond doing two thumbs up and a dorky smile and, if you squint really hard, you might see a familiar signature just at the edge of the drawing) while Connor tries to hide behind the two badge-wearing dumbasses even though his height and build makes that impossible. His own badge shines even as he hides behind the two.

And then Layla takes the megaphone from Claudia and aims it at the lines themselves

DUE TO DESMOND MILES' GENETIC MAKEUP, THE RATIO OF PRIORITY LINE TO NORMAL LINE WILL BE 3 TO 1! THANK YOU!

Just as Layla returns the megaphone to Claudia, someone from the very end of the line that sounds a hella lot like Rodrigo Borgia shouts "What does that even mean?!"

Claudia just places the megaphone by Layla's face as Layla shouts

IT MEANS 3 PEOPLE FROM THE PRIORITY LINE CAN HAVE A GO AT HIM THEN 1 PERSON FROM THE NORMAL LINE CAN GO NEXT THEN WE GO BACK TO THE PRIORITY LINE!

There's a bit of noise going everywhere and Layla groans as she shouts

JUST, EVERYONE LISTEN TO MALIK AND BAYEK'S INSTRUCTIONS WHEN YOU GET TO THE FRONT!

"Bayek's in the priority line!" Somebody that sounds like Taharqa shouts in the middle of the normal line.

Layla turns to look at the priority line and, yeah, Bayek is there, waving three coupons at her with a smile on his face so she grabs the megaphone from Claudia and shouts in his direction.

YOU ALREADY HAD YOUR SESSION, BAYEK! IF YOU HAVE MORE COUPONS-

Layla turns to Claudia and whispers, "How many coupons has he already used?"

Claudia shows her thirty-three coupons that say "This is a Desmond Miles approved coupon to shout at my father for an hour. signed, Desmond Miles" with a chibi drawing of desmond doing the "(ﾉ≧ڡ≦) Teehee~!" expression (and a small signature of Leonardo da Vinci by the picture) and had been hastily (and angrily) written over with BAYEK at each one in Claudia's handwriting. All thirty-three of those coupons have already been noted with the word 'DONE' on them as well. Layla rolls her eyes and turns back to Bayek

JOIN THE NORMAL LINE, BAYEK! PRIORITY LINE IS ONLY FOR ASSASSINS WHO HASN'T HAD A SESSION YET AND HAVEN'T USED UP 20 COUPONS YET!

There's a clearing of throat and Claudia elbows Layla hard. Seeing Maria Auditore raise an eyebrow at her as she stood at the priority line. Layla sheepishly used the megaphone to add

AND ANYONE WHO CAN SUBMIT A VALID ID THAT CAN CONFIRM THEY HAVE BLOOD RELATIONS WITH WILLIAM OR DESMOND MILES. THANK YOU.

Layla runs back to where Bill is and hopes Malik is holding down the fort now that Bayek has rejoined the line.

So Claudia is repeating the same instructions, sometimes adding in the following:

ANYONE NOT FOLLOWING THESE INSTRUCTIONS AND GIVING US AN EXCUSE OF 'EVERYTHING IS PERMITTED' WILL BE BANNED FROM JOINING THE LINE FOR THE NEXT 24 HOURS.

CLAY KACZMAREK IS BANNED FOR THE NEXT 45 HOURS FOR NOT FOLLOWING THE 1 HOUR PER SESSION RULE AND MAKING HIS OWN CLAY COUPONS. WE DO NOT ACCEPT CLAY COUPONS! I REPEAT WE DO NOT ACCEPT CLAY COUPONS.

WE ARE CURRENTLY IN THE PROCESS OF ADDING MORE EVENTS WITH WILLIAM MILES. AT THE MOMENT, THIS EVENT IS SPECIFICALLY FOR HIS TREATMENT OF HIS OWN SON, DESMOND MILES. EVENTS FOR OTHER PEOPLE OR OTHER GRIEVANCES ARE CURRENTLY BEING PLANNED AND WE WILL ANNOUNCE OTHER EVENTS WHEN IT'S READY. IF YOU BELIEVE YOU HAVE THE RIGHT TO YOUR OWN EVENT, PLEASE TALK TO RANDVI AT THE INFORMATION DESK. THANK YOU!

ANYONE CAUGHT SMUGGLING ANY OF THESE BANNED PEOPLE INTO THE LINE WILL BE BANNED FOR THE NEXT 24 HOURS AS WELL.

99 HOURS REMAINING: EDWARD JAMES KENWAY, ALEXIOS AND KASSANDRA OF SPARTA, AND EIVOR VARINSDOTTIR FOR ATTEMPTED ASSAULT WHILE DRUNK.

70 HOURS REMAINING: MARIA THORPE IBN-LA'AHAD FOR POSSESSION OF FIREARMS AND INTENT TO USE FIREARMS.

67 HOURS REMAINING: CHARLES LEE AND OTHER COLONIAL RITES TEMPLARS, INCLUDING SHAY CORMAC, FOR INSTIGATING THE 'HAYTHAM KENWAY IS BEST DAD' MOVEMENT.

52 HOURS REMAINING: JACOB FRYE FOR SMUGGLING DESMOND THE DOG INTO THE LINE AND ORDERING SAID DOG TO BITE WILLIAM MILES' PENI-

"Excuse me."

Claudia looks down from the box podium that she had been given to stand on.

"I was kicked out of the priority line-"

Claudia aims the megaphone directly at him

PRIORITY LINE IS FOR ASSASSINS AND ANYONE WHO CAN SUBMIT A VALID ID THAT CAN CONFIRM THEY HAVE BLOOD RELATIONS WITH WILLIAM OR DESMOND MILES ONLY. PLEASE GO TO THE NORMAL LINE.

"But I'm an Assassin."

Claudia stares at him for a moment before grumbling under her breath "the nerves of some people..."

She aims the megaphone where Malik is stationed as he's keeping a timer to make sure no one goes over the one-hour limit (unless with coupons) and says

MALIK, ARE WE COUNTING AL MUALIM AS AN ASSASSIN OR A TEMPLAR?

A loud chorus of angry and irritated shouts rang all over the two lines and you can barely hear someone that sounds oddly like Robert de Sablé shout "Put him next to William Miles!"

"He betrayed the Brotherhood! Normal line for him!" Malik shouts and it's almost hard to hear him because of how long the distance between them is and the other angry shouts.

Claudia turns her megaphone back to the old man and says.

YOUR BETRAYAL HAS INVALIDATED YOUR ASSASSIN STATUS. NORMAL LINE!

==== Meanwhile ====

Desmond is just signing more and more coupons while Leonardo and Sofia are printing more and more coupons using the fastest printer that Leonardo himself made together with Alexander Graham Bell. All coupons are being delivered by Darim and Sef Ibn-La'Ahad, Flavia and Marcello Auditore, and Io:nhiòte and her two other siblings. Coupons are free to order but priorities are given to anyone with Ibn-La'Ahad, Auditore, and Kenway bloodlines.

Shouts of "NEPOTISM!" are ignored.

Shouts of "FAVORITISM!" are answered with "Hell yeah, we are!" without any shame.

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aurora-daily · 8 months

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Maybe this is a silly question to ask, and I know the people who run this blog are very busy, but I was wondering what your thoughts were!

Aurora has said each album she plans on making is going to be different from the things she's made before. It SEEMS like she's getting ready for her next evolution!! Different styles of clothes worn in shows. New merch drop with the weirdos and warriors! Do you have any thoughts on where we may be headed? Any theories or things you hope happen?

Thank you guys so much for all the hard work you do keeping us up to date here. Love you!!

Hello, lovely warrior!

It's actually a very good question and I appreciate the way you treated my time here and overall your consideration! <3

I have already answered a question on Step3 last February [link] but everything that went on since then and the newer interviews made me think of other speculiations.

It might still be Step 3 in a way how suddenly Step 1 and 2 are re-released + new redisign still has hints towards these eras + her current outfits hint more towards the past + new merch style might be a hint + the long ago pinned post with the dragon might be a hint as well. I can't understand for sure whether it was Step 3 that she referred to as an album for dealing with the grief with a song ‘A Different Kind of Human’ being a hint towards the direction (and I would personally need such album the most after what I have been going through) but either way the mood of the upcoming album will be opposite:

“It is crazy […] that our worth is defined by something we can measure in numbers. Like our fortune, our followers or our weight or our height. It’s just crazy how we let these numbers decide so much, when they are so meaningless. I’m heading towards this direction on my next album again. So my fifth album… or fourth… is this my third? (laughs) Well, my next album is going to be inspired by this. And this album now ("The Gods We Can Touch") is kind of a bridge over to that. It’s about reminding ourselves of the value we have within us, about the powers we have. Love, and also it’s all about the small, simple things. It has nothing to do with our phones, with success, even with God. It’s just you and me, right here, right now. We’re just floating on a rock in space, so it doesn��t matter if I have a pimple on my cheek today. Because – who cares? It’s about thinking really big and really small at the same time (laughs).”

- AURORA on her next album in the interview for FastForward Magazine by Gabi Rudolph (January 27th, 2022)

It will be a really fun album *smiles widely*.”

- AURORA on her next album in the interview for ba.no, translated by aurora.puppet (February 2nd 2022)

“A Little Place Called The Moon" is the perfect ending. You have to wait so long for the final release where I finally come in again. I like the patience of it, it offers you one last breath before it all ends and disappears into the sky. And it’s a really good bridge to my next album. No [I can’t tell a bit more about it]!

AURORA on a significance of “A Little Place Called The Moon” as the connection to the next album in the interview for Official Charts (January 26th 2022)

"People like, or aliens like, I don't know myself... Ok, creatures like yourself that sing together in harmony, it's very gorgeous isn't it? I have started my next album! It has a lot of people's voices."

- AURORA before performing "The Innocent" @ Paradiso, Amsterdam (September 3rd 2022)

And there's something very interesting about a possible on that album song:

"I have a song out there I think that has taken me 10 years, this is the longest. It will be on my next album, it has taken so many years. But finally I've gone through what I wrote about. For the first time, so I understand the song more, as from the inside it was easier. So one song for my next album."

- AURORA in an open interview session with Bergen Bibliotek filmed by abaddonna (November 3rd 2022)

It is certainly connected to the song she has already described in 2016:

"I have a song now that I've been working on since I was 16, but I haven't found the right words to finish it. I know it will be a good song when it's perfect, but I'm just looking for one line in the fourth verse to complete it. And in four years, I haven't found that line yet."

- AURORA in an interview for Vice (March 11th 2016)

Whatever AURORA has in store I'm impatiently looking forward to this, I believe and see her artistic growth and that excites me a lot!

- Nikol

#ask #anonymous

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dabisqueen · 1 year

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My brain did something impressive after a long and tiring depressive episode and I'd like to share it with you:

"What a shame. I didn't want to kill him like that, after all he was my loyal pawn for all those years."

The man's voice did not hold any sadness. It was all meaningless to him. Right now, he was filled with excitement.

"He had such a powerful ability, such potential in him, but he was weak mentally. Knowing very well he mission yet he couldn't let you go. Well, whatever."

The man was now walking towards her.

"You on the other hand... you're strong. Nothing like your brother. You defy the laws of nature and possess an ability greater than all the others. Join me, Shimura Azumi! With my help you could become even stronger! A supernatural being!"

The man was closing the distance between them, his voice like a thunder in the midst of the destruction but she did not hear a word he said.

In the back of her mind, a voice echoed. Her voice.

"Why are you still holding back?"

"What?"

"Why are you holding back your power? You're stronger than that."

"If you join me we can even rule this whole world together!"

"I'm not holding back."

"Yes you are! You've been holding it all back since that day."

"..."

"What? Afraid that the past is going to repeat itself?"

"You were meant to reach greater heights! Something you could never achieve on the side of the heroes!"

"Kill him."

"W-what?"

"Kill him. He deserves it."

"But -"

"But what? You don't want to get your hands dirty?"

"What did the heroes ever give you, huh?"

"Well, let me tell you something, your hands are already covered in blood. You can never escape from it."

"That's different. That was an accident."

"It doesn't matter. What matters is what you do now."

"..."

"Are you scared they'll call you a monster?"

"..."

"Are you afraid they won't look at you the same way again?"

"..."

"They're in danger. If you don't do anything they'll die! Your brother is dead, Bakugou is dead and Aizawa is probably dead by now as well. Everyone is giving their all right now while your still here, moping around and drowning in self pity! You cannot bring your brother back but you can still help!"

"What do you say?"

"Put an end to this madness and stop this monster once and for all! There's nothing to lose. Let your power out and finish what you started! Avenge your brother, your friends, I don't care what, just get up!"

"Will you join me?"

"Don't turn you back on your power. It's yours, accept it. Accept it and become who you were always meant to be!"

"A monster...?"

"A hero."

It should be around the end of my character's story. It's different from the original storyline of course and focuses on my character and her development. I'm not sure I'll ever put this scene in her official story but I got inspired and I really liked writing this

Hey Faith! I've finally come around to answer this ask.

It's soooo... captivating! Do you plan on finishing it? I love it, I wanna read more.

It's really good, you've come such a long way since you first asked me for an opinion on your writing. Keep up the good work!

💙💙💙

#queen answers

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callsign-mimic · 2 months

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Meet Mimic!

(My CoD OC, not me lol)

Lieutenant Renee "Mimic" Foster

(Edit because I forgot to tag @charliemwrites so that Captain Castle Alistair has some idea as to why this creature is so skittish around him. And also so Charlie can squee about her more.)

Name: Renee "Mimic" Foster

Rank: Lieutenant

Aliases: Mimic, Bunny, Maus, Fawn, The Bard, The human equivalent of a Capybara

Official Callsign: Mimic

Age: 34

Gender/Pronouns/Sexuality: AFAB Agender, she/he/they (predominately uses she/her because it's easier and she doesn't actually give a fuck), Pansexual, Panromantic (Gender is meaningless to a mimic).

Marital Status: Officially Single, Unofficially has enough partners to start several sports teams.

Height: 5'6"

Weight: 250lbs of combined fat and muscle. Don't let her plush exterior fool you, she can and will throw down if she has to. She has plenty of thigh, tit, tum, and ass to be the perfect pillow as well. Built for cuddles, but can and will kick your ass.

Hair: Dark brown bordering on black, length ends just between shoulder blades, soft natural waves

Eyes: Pale blue, almost grey in color. Needs corrective lenses to see. Whether she uses contacts or glasses depends on mission requirements.

Personality/Quirks:

AuDHD. Inattentive and hella quiet. Loud, boisterous, and super expressive when hyper.

Wears a choke chain collar outside of missions. Is it a kink thing? No. She likes the weight of it and the sounds it makes when she moves. Can it be a kink thing? Absolutely.

Uncannily laid back and unbothered by most things. It takes a lot to make her angry. Rusty started comparing her to a capybara and often affectionately refers to her as "Capy".

Was in drama, choir, and band. Could definitely have gotten a considerably safer job as that voice actor that surprises you by being the voice of multiple completely different sounding characters.

Terrifyingly perceptive. Her peripheral vision is good enough that she can be sitting right next to a mark and not have to turn to look at them to give updates on their movements.

Practically a shape-shifter. Specializes in infiltration and espionage because she has the energy of an NPC and can integrate herself into most settings so well it just seems natural for her to be there. Need her to be sweet and bubbly? Done. Need an aggressive, short king with a Russian accent? She's got you. Surprisingly androgynous for someone with almost hyper-feminine features.

Fluent in English (native language), German, Russian, and Spanish. Teaching herself Japanese because she is an easily bored millennial weeb.

Sub leaning switch who can dish it out until her targets are puddles, but gets sheepish and flustered the minute she's given a genuine compliment (Stripper likes to make her a squirming mess by whispering praises into her ear while he has a tight hold around her waist. When she can't form proper words anymore is when the kisses start).

A ruthless, efficient killer on missions. Total prey animal off duty.

Sweet as. Will give you the shirt off her back if you need it. Always down to provide cuddles for comfort, a shoulder to cry on, or an ear to vent to.

Mom friend. Somehow ends up being the unofficial den mother of every team she works with (except her own, because Big Papa has the parenting handled for the three little goblins ❤️). She has zero issues with this.

The type of person who thinks being low maintenance is a good thing. Very rarely asks for help or support. Big Papa is the only person she (currently) trusts enough to let him take care of her. If you try to take care of her, she will make up some lame excuse to get away, or try to redirect your attention to something else.

Has all of the hobbies of a grandmother. Can knit, crochet, cross-stitch, embroider, sew, cook, and bake. Also does woodworking, works on cars, and makes weapons (yes, doing the forging and smithing herself). As previously stated, she gets bored easily.

Already has arthritis in her hands because she uses them pretty much nonstop.

#mimic writes #cod oc #my cod oc #my oc #lieutenant mimic #lieutenant renee foster

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leviaju · 4 years

Text

obey me! hc heights / how the boys would react to you being shorter + taller than them

i recognize that the council has made a decision, but given that it’s a stupid decision, i’ve elected to ignore it

okay peeps so here’s the thing, i am a tall. because i am a tall, i also wish for the boys to be t a l l. because i am incredibly biased. i will only give the weak excuse that it’s because they’re demons and i can do what i want, and what i want is for them to be t a l l .

annnNNYways theyre under the cut from tallest to shortest

beelzebub

i don’t think anyone’s surprised here

probably about 6’6 or 6’7 (198-201cm)

b i g b o i

he’s. tall.

credits it completely to the amount of nutrients he consumes on such a regular basis

he doesn’t care really care about your height too much in comparison to him, he loves u with the entirety of his heart either way

but

if you’re smaller than him (which u most likely are, this boy is a tree), he will no doubt find you just. the cutest. he loves leaning down to kiss the top of your head or to hug you. will definitely pick you up any chance he gets just to carry you.

he loves being able to use himself as a shield and just. hide you completely behind him, especially if your scared or nervous or anxious because of someone/something

if you’re his height or taller, he just. absolutely loves to cuddle with you. he will tangle his legs with yours and just. pretzel around you. your limbs are so long and he’s finally smaller than someone so he will revel in it as much as possible. he llloovveesss your arms and legs.

lucifer

also not a huge surprise

like?? 6’5 (196cm)

he is tall. and graceful. and beautiful. and elegant.

if you’re shorter than him, he will definitely use your head or shoulder as an arm rest. even if you’re the exact same height as him, he’ll insist your shorter and use you as an arm rest. you can’t stop him.

if your taller than him, this boy will

w o r s h i p

your legs

any intimate moment you have

he loves your thighs especially

your legs are just so long and attractive oh geEZ

other than that, he doesn’t act much differently based on your height

this clingy little shit likes you for you, simple as that

belphegor

like 6’4 (193cm)

he a tall boy like his twin (but not as tall. doesn’t get as much nutrients bc he sleep)

i don’t have much of a reason for this other than the fact that like,,,

if you’re shorter than him, he’d be trying to get comfy with you in your bed before eventually giving up because yOUR BED IS SO SMALL WHY CANT HE FIT—

he just

picks you up and brings you to his room, where his bed is huge and he can stretch out all he wants with you

alternatively

you could be the same height as beel, but belphie refuses to be little spoon. you could be ten feet tall and he’d still big spoon. he likes feeling like he’s protecting you when you sleep

also because he’s so used to cuddling with his pillows when he sleeps it just feels natural

leviathan

around 6’3.5 (192cm)

i also don’t have much reason for this other than the fact that he’s a gangly nerd

he isn’t actually a gangly nerd (but he is)

awkward with his body sometimes, like his limbs are too long for him on occasion

loves height differences

probably due to anime because one character is always shorter than the other

he will feel like a protagonist whenever he’s next to you if he’s taller than you

will lose his mind if you raise yourself onto your toes/pull him down in order to kiss him

if you’re his height or taller, honestly at first he’s gonna be a bit :/ about it bc what about his aniME HEIGHT DIFFERENCE—

but when he realizes he has feelings for you, that stops mattering

absolutely loves resting his head on your shoulder when the two of you are playing games (but he can’t do it that often, he gets too flustered and can’t think)

if you wanna win a game of smash, put your arm around him and pull him close. he will ERROR 404

mammon

6’1 (185cm)

for no other reason than i’m biased as hell

also he’s a model so i guess i can use that as an excuse—

even though he’s relatively short compared to the rest of his brothers (like beel holy shit—) he’s still really tall.

his ego will inflate tenfold if he is taller than you

even if you’re the same height, he’ll still insist you’re shorter

“here puny human, let THE great mammon reach this thing on the top shelf for you!”

“mammon i can literally reach it myself, i don’t need—“

lowkey loves it if you pull him down by his tie to kiss him

although he will be flustered for a good amount of time afterwards unless he’s in a Specific Mood

if you’re taller than him, he will very much be blushing mess

easily flustered, loves looking up at you, somehow clingier than usual

will try to do the pull-you-down-by-the-collab thing, but accidentally slam his head into your nose and never attempt it ever again

he’s mortified

asmodeus

somewhere around 5’11 or 6’0 (180-183cm)

he insists that he’s “the perfect height for any lover ;)”

he’d say that no matter what height he is though

honestly could not give less of a damn about how tall you are compared to him

he treats you the exact same

because he loves you, and that’s the only thing that matters to him, really

you could be purple and it wouldn’t change how he feels about you

satan

you can pry (relatively) short satan from my cold, dead hands

5’9 (175cm)

he’s not even too short, but he gets the shit taken out of him by his brothers all the time for being the shortest out of them

has a height complex

if you’re shorter than him he will absolutely 100% be smug about it

he is a little shit

will constantly note how tiny you are compared to him, will kiss the top of your head any chance he gets while the two of you are alone together

it’s a huge ego thing for him

if you’re taller than him, honestly he’s gonna he kinda put-off at first

not to any fault of your own, it’s because of his insecurity

kind of a “goddamnit i thought humans were supposed to be small, this is bullshit, i thought i’d finALLY BE TALLER THAN SOMEONE—“

so please don’t mention his height when the two of you hang out he gets very upset and pouty

for the first little bit at least

he warms up to you the more he gets to know you however, and his height complex really stops mattering when it comes to you

still likes to feel taller than you though

will stand above you when you’re sitting

or fix his posture when you enter the room

he’ll kiss your forehead and rest your head on his chest when the two of you are in bed

and if he’s really shaken by something, one of the only things that efficiently calms him down is you holding him

maybe having a partner that’s taller than him isn’t that bad

bonus!

diavolo - 6’6 (198cm)

simeon - 6’2 (188cm)

barbatos and solomon - 5’10 (178cm)

luke - idk how kids are supposed to be like 4’9 (145cm) ??????

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ilooklikeaburntchickenugget · 2 years

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Afterglow

A/N: Okay I’ve seen other authors do Taylor Swift song-inspired series where they just use Taylor Swift songs to inspire a story with a character. And I’ve done this kind of before, but ya know, I’m a copy cat (just a little bit). So here’s the first official Taylor Swift series story! (It’s also Miss Taylor’s birthday today so happy birthday to the queen of using incredibly hard words I’ve never heard of! But I still love that millennial woman to death.) Pairing: Chris Evans x F!Reader Word count: 1,101 words Warnings: Swearing, angst, fighting

God, you hated conflict.

But you got yourself twisted up into this incredibly stupid situation. Sure, you two had your fair share of fights, because every healthy couple does. Ya know, those petty little arguments about who was going to take the dog out next, the “this plate is in the wrong place!” fight, or just bantering when one of you watched the newest episode of a shared show without the other.

But this was an all new level. The entire conversation was a grenade, you two escalating it until you threw the first actually hurtful punch of words, and then it all exploded into complete chaos of petty button pressing and meaningless but fiery words of pure fury.

“You’re so unbearable sometimes, I mean, My God, you think you’re so fucking perfect.” “I’m the one who thinks I’m perfect?” He scoffed, running his hand through his hair with an overdramatic eye roll. “Alright Miss. Big-fucking-ego!”

“This is why you’re intolerable!” You shouted, standing in front of him. Despite your significant height difference, you had no hesitation standing up to him and showing any form of dominance within the conversation at this point. “It’s not even funny it just hurts.” “You threw the first insult!” He yelled back, “I mean, what d’you expect me to do? Just stand here and take it?” “I expect you to be mature about it and let me calm down.” You stated, making directly eye contact with those perfect blue eyes that seemed less beautiful by the second.

“Because your anger issues are my fucking problem.” “You know they’re my biggest one!” You fired back, “And here you are mocking me for having these issues that I didn’t even create, and I’m trying to fix, Christopher. And I’m so sorry if you can’t handle my bitchy side, but if you can’t handle the occasional outburst of me then this isn’t gonna work.”

“I’m going for a walk.” He said, walking straight towards the front door, his feet stomping on the ground.

“Fine.” You said, looking the other way. The mental image of him walking out that front door would be engraved in your mind forever.

“Fine.” He fired back and you scoffed at his petty last work tactic.

You sat on your shared couch, staring out the window sitting next to it at the drizzly city night that managed to make your mood even worse. Mother Nature was clearly not on your side right now, and quite frankly, you didn’t blame her. You weren’t even on your own side.

You were silently praying with eyes wide open that he would come back. I mean, almost a year couldn’t haven been thrown out over this. Right? Right?

You didn’t want to cry or show any weakness especially when you started the entire thing, clearly being at fault. Yet here you were, bottom lip quivering and face scrunching up as tears began to fall and a small sob escaped your lips. You hated yourself now more than ever, because you hurt the singular person who you loved the most, and you wouldn’t have blamed him for never coming back.

As if right on cue, Dodger came over, placing his chin on your knee in sympathy. You had to prevent yourself from looking at him, knowing he was technically Chris’, and he should really be there for him now and not you. The poor guy didn’t understand, he couldn’t, but you felt that even acknowledging the dogs existence would be another betrayal to your lover.

You weren’t sure how to fix this, if there was a way. Sure, apologizing was something, but you knew your fluent English would become a melting mess of putty-like stutters as soon as you opened your mouth out of worry and regret for all you had done. And you also didn’t want to take complete blame, because it wasn’t completely on you. The majority? Sure. But not all of it.

The build up of emotion continued. You were infuriated, primarily at yourself but just a little at Chris, you were heartbroken, you were conflicted, you were anxious, you were confused.

So you grabbed the nearest pillow and just yelled into it as loud as your voice could possibly let you.

And it felt really fucking good.

It didn’t even feel that long, being honest, the whole detox process of just screaming your emotions out, but by the time you looked up and over, there Chris stood in the doorway with his eyes glued to you. You didn’t even react, I mean it was far from the worst he had seen you, but his slightly widened eyes and slightly agape mouth really screamed, “is she okay?”

As soon as your slightly shocked expression met his, a small smile grew on his face. “C’mhere.” He said, shutting the door behind him and opening up his arms which you practically crashed into.

“Fuck, I’m so, so sorry. I’m so stupid I don’t know why I said what I said or why I acted the way I did and I’m sorry I hurt you and you can be mad at me for as long as you want and-” Your mouth was a complete waterfall of everything you thought you had just screamed out. “Stop.” He softly said with a smile, placing a kiss onto your head with your face buried in his now damp sweater. “It’s okay.” He rubbed his hand up and down your back, swaying you side to side, you sock-covered toes on the tip of his shoes with collected drops of water still on them. “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have used your issues against you, especially when you’re working so hard to try and fix them.” He sighed, placing his chin on your head.

“I’m sorry for calling you unbearable,” You responded, “You’re quite the opposite actually.” He chuckled.

“Thanks.” He muttered. “Forgiven?” “Absolutely.” You smiled up at him, the familiar color of blue in his eyes now back. You swore they had never looked more comforting. “Forgiven?” “Yes.” He smiled back down.

There were a few solid moments of just complete silence, the two of you holding onto each other like your lives depended on it, which maybe they did at this point. But it was more enjoying the peaceful waters after the storm. Despite the fact that there was a nice feeling to the afterglow, you weren’t sure if you ever wanted to feel it again. “Can we never fight again?” You looked up at him. “I kinda hated it.” He lightly laughed.

“I did too,” He smiled, “Let’s never fight again.”

#Chris Evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x you

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blizzardfluffykpop · 2 years

Text

Park Date

Summary: A park date with Shinwon.

Oneshot

Fluff, in the Dating Limbo Stage [not officially-official].

Word Count: 621

Shinwon X Reader

Not Requested

[A/n: Shinwon is an absolute sweetheart and this idea comes from my kpop journal (specifically a park date collab I did) but I wanted to write more.]

------

Shinwon calls you up on a sunny afternoon and goes, "Do you wanna go to the park with me?" You immediately agree, and he walks over to your house, and you both walk to the park together. Once the two of you reach the park entrance, you'd lock eyes, already knowing what was on the other's mind. And race to the swings. [Curse Shinwon's long legs for making him arrive at the swings first.]

He sticks his tongue out at you, and you guys see who could reach the highest. Neither of you can get a definitive answer because the two of you refuse to give up. The two of you slow down together and talk about things you haven't told each other yet. And he would slowly reach out and hold your hand, and you would grin and grab his hand and interlock your fingers. His cheeks would be bright red, and you two would giggle like little kindergarteners. Settling into a comfortable silence, listening to the bird's chirp overhead. When he goes, "Wanna go again?" And you nod and let go of his hand before you reach a comfortable height to jump off. And he yells, "Let go... In three,... two,... one!" And the both of you jump off from the swing and land in the mulch. And lay down next to one another on soft grass in front of the swings. Staring up at the bright blue sky littered with white fluffy clouds. "Look, it's a dragon playing with a soccer ball!" You point out, and he grins and points out, "There is a hippopotamus in a tutu dancing!" And you reach up to grab his hand that's pointing at the cloud, and he grins as he locks them together this time.

When you guys have exhausted the clouds of their endless imagery, he would pull you up and go over to the stand selling kites and other miscellaneous park items to enjoy with them. You guys would rent a kite and take it flying, running around to get it in the air. Once in the air, the two of you would hold onto it together, leaning on each other and speaking of meaningless things. All while watching the kite reach higher and higher heights. He would take bunches of pictures of the two of you guys, and you'd do the same. When the two of you finally let the kite fall after reeling it in, he'd walk you home. And in front of your screen door on your porch as the two of you hold hands. You'd go, "I don't want this to end." And he would rub his nose against yours, "It doesn't have to, but I know you have work tomorrow. So how about tomorrow after you get off, we hang out the whole night?" You smile, "Sounds wonderful," he grins and kisses your cheek, "I can't wait." You whisper as you lean closer to his lips, "I think I really like you." Just before he plants his lips on yours, he tells you, "I think I really like you too." Ending your date off with a gentle kiss. You head inside and watch him from the inside of the screen door. And wave to him when he looks back. He waves back and blows you a kiss. You catch it and plant it on your cheek. He laughs as you blow him a kiss back, and he grabs it out of the air and puts it in his pocket for safekeeping. When he thinks you've turned around to go into your living room, he jumps up in the air and clicks his heels in utter happiness that you guys had yet another successful date.

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mean-scarlet-deceiver · 3 years

Note

How do engines view names? Their entire identity? Meaningless? ECT

That's a pretty broad ask, mate.

... I love it. ;)

I'm going to stick with names, since identity goes along with it. Not really sure what you meant by the rest, but I'm going to just take it as a license to go off on any damn tangents I please.

Oh, hush up, Bootlaces.

Honestly, I think the tl;dr is right there in Stepney the "Bluebell" Engine:

"Have they saved other engines besides you?"

"Oh yes," answered Stepney. "You'd like our Bluebell and Primrose. They're twins," he chuckled, "and as like as two peas. They only had numbers at first, Bluebell is 323 and Primrose is 27. They were very pleased when our Controller gave them names. Some say he was wrong to do it. It's certainly made them cocky, but they do work hard, and I think our Controller was right. All engines ought to have names."

"Yes," agreed Edward, "it's most important."

"That's why," Stepney continued, "we've given names to our 488 and 2650. But our Controller doesn't know. It's a secret... They are both very pleased about it, because now they feel part of the family. We call 488 'Adams,' after his designer, you know... 'Cromford', who's 2650, has been pulling trucks up high peaks in Derbyshire. He's tough is Cromford. He had to be for that job."

(The names Adams and Cromford seem only to exist in Awdryverse. A secret from the Controller, indeed. So, that's a very telling bit, worldbuilding-wise.)

But, if you're up for me overanalyzing the thing, then go right ahead and click the readmore.

Although the above conversation is pretty useful, I think it also has to be taken in context. The year is 1962. This takes place on Sodor. We see plenty of other engines in the 'verse who don't have names, and we cannot just assume they are much troubled by it. And both these speakers have gone from big railways to small railways with a "found family" feel—note that, much like the language used when D7101 becomes Bear, Stepney says the others' names are valued because they indicate that they belong.

So.

I'm very intrigued by some universes like @leatherbootlace's where every engine has a given "first-name"-style name even if they also have a "title," such as Flying Scotsman, Skarloey, etc. That's a very clever conceit.

However, in my interpretation that's just not universal. Not remotely. Some engines do have "official names" as well as more everyday aliases, but their everyday names are not necessarily like human names. And they are fine with that. They are also typically very flexible about their names changing along with their identities over the course of their lives.

And some engines are perfectly fine with "just" a railway number. They were actually quite fashionable in the late 19th century, as railway companies just kept swallowing each other up, fleets getting bigger and bigger. Of course, there was resistance the first couple decades, and typically when an engine from a small fleet was absorbed there was a lot of angst at losing their name—precisely because they had also lost their old home. And, too, of course the most important engines on the big railways were "named proper," especially passenger engines—station names, place names, and regiment names were the height of posh.

But on these big fleets, having a number was often considered much better than having some quaint, quirky little name. Atlas or Achilles or Captain Baxter or Olive or Helen or Hero or Goes-When-Ready—ugh. What are you, a contractor's engine?

The engines from smaller companies in turn were rather horrified—who would want to be a number? Especially some horrid long-tailed number! 'No. 834', what even is that? But to the engines on big railways the numbers didn't necessarily mean anonymity. It meant status (I'm from a big railway, we have long numbers because there are a lot of us because our railway is important) and also belonging (my number is my name, and it's my family name too, because I have a family, our whole class/subclass shares a number series, and anyone who is anyone recognizes my clan from my number! That's very important.)

Of course, these attitudes could all vary wildly by region.

The island of Sodor, for instance, has long been stocked with people who are weird as hell, with the oddest sense of priorities and an obsession with their bland breakfast foods. But they are also gentle souls underneath all that, and they never picked up the fashion towards numbering engines. If the directors or owners didn't officially name an engine (Skarloey, Rheneas, Duke), then the people who worked with them would (Stuart, Falcon, Neil). They would name every single engine—no matter how little, how commonplace, how dirty, or how unimportant.

Of course, this wasn't always exactly heartwarming. The old Mid Sodor's No. 2 was officially named Stanley, after north Sodor's venerable Dr. Wilbur Stanley. But the railwaymen found the official name quite incongruous with their least-tractable and least-favorite engine, whom they gave nicknames of which Smudger was the most printable. (I don't think much of Duke due entirely to his attitude about Smudger, but I will say this for him—RWS was more accurate than the TVS in having Duke not use the old nickname. He may have thought very little of the erstwhile generator but he never once indulged in that.)

As Sodor developed standard-gauge railways, the directors, strictly businessmen all, only ever named a handful in the pre-North Western days—and named them after political patrons/board members, of course. But apart from those few cases, the engines were named by "their people," whom they worked alongside. In fact these names, in the venerable tradition of passive-aggressive Sudrian resistance, could be guarded jealously against "outsiders." (Much like the case with Stepney and Friends, they could even be kept a secret from the Directors!—many of whom were English anyway.)

Case in point: Topham Hatt only named two of the four "Coffee Pot" engines that he personally built for the T.K. and E., No. 1 'Glynn' and No. 4 'Janey.' These names were however just as unofficial as the other two, who were named only by the workmen, and in fact no written records exist of any aliases for Nos. 2 and 3, although it can be presumed that, in the contemporary fashion of south Sodor railways, that they too would have been given "Christian names."

With the war-hastened construction of the North Western Railway came an influx of foreign engines. If they arrived with names then the Sudrians respected them and used them... usually.

And then there was the engine from Dover, cheerily introducing herself with her funny little name from home. The Sudrians, not wishing to be hasty or close-minded, had carefully weighed this one in the balance for one day’s work, then two. On the third day they dismissed this as nonsense altogether and christened her Lillian for her stay.

The other engines rather liked Church-Bell, though, and used it often.

However, the Sudrians were absolutely were not about to accept what they considered the sheer barbarity of addressing engines by numbers. Some of the loaned engines were quite offended by this, others were charmed, and others just shrugged and got on with things, because humans gonna human. Obviously, Thomas and Edward's names come from this period. They, along with a few of the other most popular loaners from this period, were called after "Sodor boys" who had recently been killed in battle, and who were mourned by the men they were working with.

When Hatt (notably, not a native Sudrian) took over management of the N.W.R., he took the politic stance of confirming any pre-existing 'unofficial' names, thus avoiding conflicts with employees and engines alike. However, by making them official he had also secured his right as general manager to bestow all future names himself—and to take them away, as he saw fit.

Yeah. Nice try, bigshot. This policy kinda backfired on him in a number of ways:

Henry Regaby, Sr. was... less than flattered, to have the N.W.R.'s "green elephant" named after him. (The ensuing drama played out for the next three generations.)

The wealthy and influential Lady Miranda Gordon was most offended that she had to wait until N.W.R. number four to have a namesake.

Hatt also discovered that he still could not revoke an engine's name by fiat, given that everyone on the rails would keep right on using it, no matter how unpopular they were.

Specifically, '87546' and '98462' were never called that. Even after Hatt lost his temper and ordered their "Sodor names" to be memory-holed by all, the workers stubbornly continued to use them instead of their prior railway numbers. (They were rather over the big blue engines' monkeyshines too, but come on, you don't just de-person a coworker because they're a pain in the arse! That ain't civilized, it ain't.) The other engines, once they became friends, also never used these two's proper numbers... coming up with these absurdly "long-tailed numbers" as a way of "following orders" taking the mickey. (I nicked this idea from, I'm pretty sure, @houseboatisland's Twitter.)

After the above kerfuffles, Hatt gave up trying to score political and managerial points with engine naming, and just went with the Sudrian tradition of just giving a "human" name to each engine just because it's a goddamn natural and decent thing to do omg.

Okay, we went into some detail about this period of Sodor history, because it wound up having outsize impact.

After Grouping, there was an increasing trend towards railway engines giving each other unofficial names. This had been rather uncommon before—culturally, there hardly seemed any point in having a name, if the humans didn't give it to you! The whole point was that it showed you were important to them...

But the instability of the war (engines lost a lot of their old faces)—and then the increasing anonymity of now being part of "mega-railways" and frequently transferred from one depot to the next, often winding up dizzingly far from home—well, this all made the engines realize they could rely on their humans quite a bit less than their predecessors had.

So, rather than wait for humans to give them names either official or unofficial, the practice of engines nicknaming each other (flatteringly... or otherwise) started to, forgive me, build steam in this era.

Then we get to the next war, and the next grouping. Nationalisation was exciting for some engines, but for others it was just really quite dizzying. The renumbering, coming so close on the heels of the stresses of war, left quite a lot of engines feeling numb. Those who recovered tended to crave more identity than the sort of five-digit numbers that the North Western engines had once made up as a joke.

Speaking of the North Western, some of their engines are now taking the country's railfans by storm by this ridiculous new kid-friendly P.R. campaign...

The craving for some sort of personal identity coincided with the growing popularity of the Railway Series. So, no surprise, in the post-war years there was a huge spike in (unofficial) human-style "Christian" names.

Hence, FC1 and FC2 asking Toby and Duck, respectively, what their names are. By 1950, you can expect even mainland engines to have picked up one for themselves.

British Railways, however, found this trend kind of sus. To counter it, B.R. became quite liberal with giving official names to the members of its own new standardized classes.

It kind of worked? For a while. The new B.R. engines tended to accept the idea that they had proper names, not those grubby Sodor-style names, thank you... for a while. Then, as they got quickly relegated to more and more drudgery in their blink-and-you'll-miss-it careers cut short by dieselisation, quite a few of them found what comfort they could in the bonds they did have. And with that often meant adopting simpler names to suit their simple circumstances, too. No one at scrapyard is going to be calling you Coeur-de-Leon or Maid of Astolat with a straight face, all right?

As part of their indoctrination into the company's line, the new diesels were almost all simply numbered, and they preferred it that way. (At least, it was certainly impolitic, and associated you with the malcontents, to suggest otherwise!)

That was equally true in other countries undergoing dieselisation.

By the 80s, however, some diesel and electric locomotives, as well as another mass transit vehicles, started a quiet rebellion against such standardisation. The trend of giving each other names started again.

However, they were seldom "common human first name" sort of names. That sort of thing now has a very quaint, old-timey feel to it—very "heritage line." Instead, the vehicles tend to find names that would make rock stars or fantasy video game characters proud! Also, unisex names became very cool (though gender expression continued to be largely binary until at least the 21st century mark).

#chatter #ttte analysis #ttte headcanon #think i'm forgetting something but this draft has been lingering for a while #i'm going to slap some tags and send it off into the world #thanks for the ask!#ttte meme #feel free to steal that SPLENDID edit should it strike your fancy #ttte #the railway series

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blackberry-bloody · 3 years

Text

so I haven't done much original whump in quite a while, but I really felt the need to fill my own prompt (even though technically this turned into waaaaaaay more than I intended, and the tail whump is kind of an after though in this it seems.), and I really wanted to introduce my boi Dayzel officially. So Here's two birds with one stone.

@darkwarfy, @icyheart-and-friends, @seagullsausage

Contains: creepy whumper, retrained whumpee, non human/demon whumpee, angel/non-human whumper, implied prior whump, torture, choking, broken bones, loss of limbs (not graphic/ not described), humiliation (if you squint, so just in case), stress position, snarky whumpee that doesn't know how to shut up, whumpee reaching their breaking point

Dayzel's breathing came wheezy and strained from where he was unhappily seated. The ropes pinning his wrists to each if the chair's arms were starting to cut bloody red lines from his tugging, and his vision was just a little hazy from the repeated blunt force injuries to his head. Still… He looked up at the man glowering over him, a smug grin plastered quite firmly from ear to ear. He was Dayzel Infernos, and he was not about to be bested by some punk angel trying to get all high and mighty on his ass. "Look, chicken wing-" a resounding slap echoed in the room as his head snapped to the side. He clenched his jaw and slowly turned his head back to glare at the very narrowed purple eyes that had gotten much closer. "Oh wow, don't like nicknames huh? I'll keep it noted." His voice was practically dripping with a toxic mixture of venom and sarcasm as he chuckled in the man's face and spit a globule of blood at him.

The look of disgust on his face made his smirk that much more smug as he leaned forward as much as he could with his wings tied to the back of the chair. Just needing enough to close the gap. He was not impressed. "Hey bird brain, I don't know what you, or your buddies that dragged me here are thinking you're doing, but whatever it is… It's pretty fucking pathetic." His tail twitched from it's position around his leg, swaying from side to side like a snake judging the creature before it. "You're not the first person to try and "teach the evil demon a lesson", hell you're not even the first angel. I've had humans do worse than you. All you've done is smack me around a bit and glare at me." A slightly manic giggle escaped, but soon turned into a coughing fit as he had to pull back to catch his breath and relieve tension on his wings. Once he opened his eyes again, he noticed the angel's expression had changed from one of anger and disgust, to something more unreadable…

Dayzel paid the change no mind however, and continued with his taunting."I've been here many times before and not a single person… Human, angel, or otherwise has yet to make me break. None of you have any creativity. You're all so dull."

"Is that so?" The man before him finally spoke. His voice was deep and commanding, but also incredibly soft. But in the otherwise quiet room… It was practically booming.

Dayzel's eyes snapped up once more and processed the moment, his grin faltering for only a split second, and only due to the surprise. "Ah, so he can speak. Wonderful. I was starting to get tired of my own voice. Oh wait, no, that's impossible." He laughed, the sound bouncing off the walls and making them echo. However, he was abruptly cut off as a hand shot out and grabbed one of his horns. It didn't hurt, but it was just jarring enough to make him wince. He let out a low growl and tried to tug it out of the angel's grip. Only for the man to laugh in return, and guide Dayzel's head into an uncomfortable position looking straight up at the ceiling. "For the record. Yes. It is so. And of all the times I've been caught, this doesn't even make the top ten." He bit out. He tried to jerk his head again to make eye contact… But his head was held firmly in place.

"I see. Then perhaps it's time I showed you some of my… Creativity… Hm?" Delicate and utterly cold fingers found their way to Dayzel's fully exposed neck, and ever so gently wrapped around the skin… Before the grip became crushing hard, cutting off his airflow entirely.

Dayzel gasped and, although he tried his best to hide it… He did start to panic… As he tugged on the ropes trying to reach up and claw his hands off him. Or even shift his head so he could bite him. But neither were really options, so he was just left to slowly choke on nothingness until his vision went black.

~~~ Eventually, and ever so slowly, Dayzel could feel himself being pulled from the black void of unconsciousness. The first thing he noticed was that he was no longer seated in an uncomfortable chair, but instead was laying face down on an uncomfortable floor. The second thing he discovered was that he was indeed still restrained, despite the new position… His arms twitched behind him to try and push himself up, but was only met with stiff and sticky resistance of boring duct tape around his wrists. He had yet to open his eyes, but he still rolled them behind his eyelids. “I thought you were going to show me creative, not cliche, pigeon,” he growled out, despite the somewhat still smug tone in his voice. “Oh, don’t worry your fake red haired head, I’m getting to it. Try not to pass out before I can, ok?” The same voice as before spoke somewhere directly above him. Monotone, flat, and utterly condescending.

Dayzel’s eyes finally snapped open and he tilted his head to try and see where the angel was, “What the fuck is that-?!” He was abruptly cut off as a boot was placed securely at the base of where his wings met and weight was steadily applied. “Oh” was the only thing he could wheeze out as he struggled to take in air with his rib cage being crushed. He attempted to seem nonchalant as he felt the angel shift his weight behind him… But that was quickly thrown out the wind as he felt soft hands carefully take hold of his tail, lifting it up to get a better look. Immediately Dayzel started thrashing under him, letting out curses and threats that could put a trucker to shame.

"Oh hush, no need to get so worked up yet." Was the only reply given. Well, the only verbal reply… The twist and added pressure on the tender muscle between his wings were his other reply all it's own. The motion itself was enough to stun Dayzel beneath him, reeling from the pain. The angel, of course, took advantage of this moment and swiftly tied a cord around the man's tail before releasing him. "See? Now, up you come."

Delicate hands corded through Dayzel's blood matted hair and yanked, startling Dayzel from his daze, guiding him to be standing upright.

Dayzel gasped and heaved for breath as he stood up, wobbling ever so slightly as he did so. Although, he'd deny it with the same vigor and venom as he would anything else that might bruise his ego. His eyes were ablaze with fury. "What the actual fuck is wrong with you?! As soon as I can, I promise I'm going to pluck you like a chicken!"

The angel's expression remained neutral as his hand made its way up to wipe the spit off his face. "Yes… I'm quite certain you'd like to. But do please remember you brought this upon yourself sweetheart." There was no warmth, nor malice for that matter as he reached up and patted Dayzel's cheek. "Don't worry, though, I'm almost ready to leave you alone."

"Don't you dare touch me like that!" Was all he could manage to growl as he snapped his face to the side and bit down hard on the man's hand. However, instead of pulling away, or even acknowledging the red lifeblood dripping down his hand… The angel simply tsked and gave Dayzel a look of… What he could only describe as disappointment… Which was enough to startle Dayzel enough to let go.

The angel's uninjured hand shot out so fast he actually flinched as his horn was once again grabbed and his head tilted back. The angel carefully and slowly maneuvered behind him once again, and as he was still held in place, Dayzel had no idea what he was doing. "Such a shame. Your wings are actually quite beautiful you know? I was hoping to merely pin them for this… But seeing as how you want to resort to such. Brutality. I shall return the favor in kind. They should make a nice mantle piece."

Dayzel felt his stomach drop. All tough guy act and threats thrown away as fear took over his face. Actual, genuine, raw fear… "Wait, please don't-!" But he didn't even get the finish as the angel gripped tightly at the base of his wing and twisted and wrenched until the limb fell to the floor. And before he could so much as gather his thoughts… He immediately started on Dayzel's other wing, doing the exact same. That too fell with a soft thud to the floor. Dayzel never cried… And that much held up… No, through his screams, instead he was sobbing. And once his horn was released from it's crushing grip, he too fell to the floor in a heap of himself.

"See? Now we're getting somewhere. Lesson one. Fighting only ends in pain." The shifting of the voice told Dayzel that the man was once again in front of him. He didn't respond. "If you don't acknowledge me, I'll cut off your horns next."

"Fuck you." Dayzel lifted his head ever so slightly to get a look at him… Splattered with his blood across his white uniform…

The man crouched down to be closer in view. "Ah, out of threats I see. That's good. That's progress. There may be hope for you yet." He reached down and delicately pet the tufts of Dayzel's hair and the fuzz of the back of his neck. And Dayzel hated himself for being grateful for the gentle touch as opposed to pain. He merely clenched his jaw. "Unfortunately for you, lesson number two is that hope is meaningless." His hand withdraws and he stands back up to his full height, before fishing around in his pocket for something. Once found, he pulls out a tiny two button remote, one up arrow and one down arrow. He presses the up arrow.

Confused, Dayzel looked up as he heard some sort of mechanical noise, like a motor. And that's when he noticed the cord going up, that was attached to his tail… Which was seemingly being lifted by said motor.

Again, panic rushed through him as he scrambled to stand up and tried to reach the cord just below the tip of his tail… But he was still far too dazed and in pain to grab hold and undo the knot, let alone with his hands tied. He watched as the angel started walking towards the door out of the room, meanwhile his feet finally couldn't touch the ground and he lurched forward with a hiss of pain. The motor stopped, leaving the wingless demon dangling from the cord and the tip of his tail. When he looked back… The angel was gone, leaving him to his own misery. "FUCK YOU!!!" He screamed again, this time raw and full of hate, so loud that it left him once again panting for air.

~~~

It started as a sharp pain, every muscle and joint screaming at him to get down. To ease the pressure. To stop what was happening. And it lasted like that for the first little while as he struggled against the tape and spun in the air. He even tried being upside down and climbing backwards up his own tail to reach the cord. It didn't work of course, but he was desperate enough to try.

Eventually, he figured he'd try staying as still as possible to reduce the sudden jerks on his tail. But then he got lightheaded, or his legs fell asleep and he inevitably had to shift again, sparking the pain once more…

However, after a while… The pain became duller, and more muted. Still very much there and ever persistent. But his tail was slowly losing its ability to hold him up.

Finally he lost the ability to move his tail at all. It had gone a tingling sort of numb and lifeless…

He slumped, folded in half, and without the strength to hold himself facing parallel to the ground. He didn't know how long it had been, nor did he know how much longer it would be… But for the first time, he felt completely helpless.

#jay jabbers #my writing #whump #villain whumpee #nonhuman whumpee #demon whumpee #Dayzel oc #nonhuman whumper #angel whumper

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god-of-dust · 3 years

Text

since i already posted Rising Sun, i thought that it would be interesting to show part of my writing process for it. this is part of the first, unedited draft that i wrote without any finesse and then rewrote completely. notice the “send help” bit XD

He waits until Aang's finished with his mantras before speaking. “Can I have your opinion on something?”

“I'm listening,” Aang says, voice deep and resonant.

“The anniversary of the genocide will be in a few months,” he begins, unsure on how to approach the subject.

Slowly, Aang exhales, rolls his shoulders and neck and opens his eyes to look at Zuko. “Yes.”

“I'd like to make it an official day of remembrance.” He passes a hand through his hair, gathering his thoughts.

“That's... incredibly thoughtful, Zuko. Thank you.”

Zuko scratches at a bit of sealing wax that's stuck to his desk. “The power I have means nothing if I don't use it to right the wrongs that my family has done. To be honest, there's a lot that needs to be mended, especially when it comes to your people, and even for this anniversary I have no idea what to do. What's the appropriate way to do this?”

“In truth, I have no idea either.” Aang briefly clutches his beads. “Now that the war is over, I have more space to think about what happened and how I want to honor my people so that their teachings aren't forgotten, but it's—well, a lot.”

“I was thinking about theatre—a play that tells the real story, what truly happened that day, instead of that bullshit militaristic propaganda we've been fed during the war.” Zuko offers cautiously.

“That could work. Can I think about it some more?”

“Of course you can. But, um, on the topic of propaganda... there's also something else I've been meaning to ask you.”

“There's always something else,” Aang says, and even though his tone is neutral Zuko still flinches. There's unconcealed tiredness in those words, one that Zuko is well-acquainted with; long nights spent wondering if the demands of his title will pile up and pile up until they swallow him whole, followed by long days where he brushes away the bruises under his eyes and puts on his best diplomatic face to attend to those very same demands.

“I'm working with my advisors to completely rewrite the school curriculum. They've been a great help, but for all their genuine interest they've been indoctrinated about Air Nomads as much as anyone else in this nation. I want kids to be taught about your culture, and for that I need you.” Before Aang can reply, Zuko speaks again. “I know that I'm asking too much. I know that this would be yet another responsibility you got saddled with... but you're also the best person possible for this.”

Aang's smile is a wry, bitter thing that makes Zuko's chest ache like a hollowed out tree. “Not the best. The only one.”

“You're not the only one. I could recruit some of the Air Acolytes if you think it's a good idea.”

“No, that wouldn't be enough,” Aang says, shaking his head minutely. “They're passionate scholars, and their presence soothes the part of me that was afraid that any hope for community had been lost. Still... they can never get it completely. There are things that can't be taught, only lived.”

There's nothing that Zuko can reply to that. No words will ever be enough to restore what has been destroyed and taken away from Aang; as much as that wound appears to be scarred and healed, Zuko can see that there's a well of grief that Aang doesn't let anyone get close to.

Some gaps can never be closed, but others can.

He rises from his desk and crosses the distance between them, kneeling before Aang. They're at the same height now, and Zuko gently presses his forehead against Aang's; after a small moment of hesitation, he places a hand against Aang's cheek. This tentative touch is all he has to offer.

“I wish I didn't have to ask this of you,” Zuko murmurs, eyes closing in surrender, thumb stroking soft skin.

They breathe together like this, slipping into a state of shared equilibrium. It doesn't erase the pain, but it makes it bearable. A thing that they both can carry together.

“I'm the last airbender. I won't disrespect my people by running away. Besides, I'm the Avatar, and my voice carries authority that I'm meant to use exactly for reasons such as these.”

Zuko sighs. Outside of the window, where the sky is beginning to darken, a handful of stars begin to emerge from its expanse. “I want more than anything to see you at peace, and yet I find myself burdening you with heavy choices, over and over.”

“Your choices aren't easy either, Zuko.”

“No, they aren't. But then, I'm honor-bound to rule this nation to the best of my abilities, regardless of my wishful thinking about how easier it should be.”

Aang squeezes one of his shoulders, reassuring him with a simple touch.

I know how it feels. You're not alone.

And Aang does understand, better than anyone else. The feeling of suffocation that comes with the high stakes involved in any misstep, the anxiety that has taken permanent residence under Zuko's ribs ever since his coronation. He never speaks about it, not out loud, and he's glad that he doesn't need to.

Aang puts a hand on the back of Zuko's neck, lightly kneading the lingering tension away.

Why is it that Aang makes it easy to accept a touch so loving and tender? He'd struggled to accept his uncle's hugs and comforting pats, feeling unworthy of his freely given affection.

Aang doesn't owe him anything. And yet here Zuko is, unmoving, his own palm still cupping Aang's tranquil face, fingers tracing absent patterns on it. Thoughts slip away, awash by the simplicity of this moment.

"Be here, Zuko. There's a lot we must do, a lot that's been appointed onto us, but now we have this."

"Thank you," Zuko whispers, and he means it.

The pressure of Aang's hand on Zuko grounds him. They breath as one, and for a moment they are one, a single essence.

“The first time I entered the Avatar state I experienced visions of the world that can't be expressed with words,” Aang says. “I saw the oneness of all things. I saw impermanence, the mutable nature of everything. Going back to being myself, with a body, after that... It took a bit of adjusting. Okay, a lot of adjusting.”

“How did you do it?” How can a person contain all that? is what Zuko wishes to ask, though he doesn't quite dare.

“I don't know. It's an apparent contradiction that I have yet to come to terms with. I have a duty as Avatar Aang that I'm meant to uphold, while having witnessed that, ultimately, I have no separate identity at all.” An exhale, long and deep. “Sometimes it feels meaningless. Why bother, why struggle, when we are all one and the same? But it's what we're here to do, what I am here to do.”

“You're the most selfless person I know.” It tumbles out of Zuko's mouth, unfiltered. Aang is... all that.

At Aang's age, Zuko had only cared about firebending forms and maybe his crush on Mai. He'd still hoped for his father's approval. Then there's Aang, a hero, a survivor, who's seen more than any person would be able to bear; the most profound loss, the glory of victory, and the ultimate detachment from it all.

It's impossible that this larger-than-life being can be so unassuming. That he has love for Zuko, so much that his scarred heart can drown in it.

Never has he felt so cherished, with no strings attached, no familial bonds, no hidden treachery glistening behind constructed gestures.

His chest isn't hollow anymore. It feels full, the fuller it's been in a long time, overflowing him. The naked affection he holds for Aang is humbling, devastating.

Aang has the supreme quality of making Zuko feel like he belongs. They belong together, as strange and different as they might be, as conflicted Zuko might feel about it. It doesn't matter.

When Aang talks about oneness, this is what Zuko can compare it to. Their mingled breaths, Aang's hand on his skin. That time at the Sun Warriors temple, along with now. They have everything. They are everything, and when they're together, Zuko can believe that they can achieve anything, overcome any struggle.

There's no obstacle big enough to stop their combined strength.

Is this what unconditional love is? The complete, utter perfection Zuko feels?

Nothing can mar this. Not when Aang is with him.

“I want to be there for you. I want to do everything in my power to provide reparation, to acknowledge the harm that's been done to your people, to offer my effort to make it right again... but I don't know how. I need you, Aang.” He stares into his eyes, gold meeting gray. “I need you to teach me. To tell me if I'm doing it wrong.”

“Okay,” Aang says, simply. “I'll be your advisor in this.”

“I'm so sorry that I'm asking this of you. I'm sorry that this is yet another burden piled up on top of your other responsibilities.”

Aang sighs. It's not a sad sigh, nor a frustrated sigh. Just... a deep exhale. “Someone has to do it. Might as well be me.”

“I wish you didn't have to.”

“Wishing is pointless. We might as well act on what we have.”

Zuko shakes his head. “I still can't accept the things that I suffered through. I haven't forgiven my family for what they've done. My father is rotting in prison, and he deserves it. For what he's done to me, to you, to this nation. The fact that you can be so calm about it... how? How can you be so calm?”

“Forgiving is not forgetting. What has been done has been done, and it's still impressed in my memory and will always be. But punishment serves no one.”

“So he should just... not pay for what he's done? Where's the justice in that?”

“Justice is meaningless. Justice is the illusion of balance, based on false ideas of truth.”

“Aang I don't fucking get it. He's a genocidal maniac. Send help.”

“The pain he's caused can't be mended through punishment. It cannot be solved in any way. We can only acknowledge that pain and make sure that it doesn't happen again. And... I'm glad that you're thinking about this. It warms my heart that you feel this way.”

#writing #zukaang #fanfic #yay writing #avatar the last airbender

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cheri-translates · 4 years

Note

Hi Cheri, do you have a biodata for those guys? I once saw their data at Tumblr (in which Tumblr I forgot...) Would you mind if you posted and translated it? Thanks 😊😊😊

Hello~ I hope these are the personal files you’re referring to, which I found on the official Chinese MLQC website 😄

Although S2 photos are featured, the details are related to S1, so no worries about S2 spoilers. Shaw’s file does contain unreleased spoilers from S1, so I’ve left him last if you want to skip it!

🦋 Lucien 🦋

Age: 26

Height: 180cm

Birthday: 15 November

Star sign: Scorpio

Blood type: AB

Identity: Neuroscientist and Visiting Professor at Loveland University

Evol: Replication

Hobbies: Observing humans, movies, sketching

Guardian Animal: Snow Fox / Black Goat

Lucky flower: Platycodon grandiflorus i.e. balloon flower

Symbol: Butterflies

On the outside, Lucien is a refined and handsome young professor. His outstanding temperament makes him easy to identify even in a vast sea of people. His memory allows him to remember everything he sees. Apart from possessing a high IQ, he also has an exceptionally high EQ, and he knows how to behave and carry himself in the world.

Besides this, he also has a fox-like mystery, and perceives the world sensitively and keenly. Although his words and actions are gentle, they also give people a sense of distance, making it difficult to truly walk into his inner world.

To others, Lucien is an authoritative scientist in the field of neuroscience, and has returned to his country as an elite. In the eyes of the public, he is a young neuroscientist and a Visiting Professor at Loveland University. He is extremely persistent in scientific research, and has attained extraordinary achievements in this industry. As a genius with an extremely high IQ, he has attained achievements at the age of 26 that ordinary people cannot achieve in a lifetime.

No one knows Lucien's true identity and purpose.

🍁 Gavin 🍁

Age: 24

Height: 181cm

Birthday: 29 July

Star sign: Leo

Blood type: B

Identity: Evol Special Police

Evol: Wind control

Hobbies: Motorcycle rides, astronomy, boxing, basketball, etc.

Guardian Animal: German Shepherd / Wolf

Lucky flower: White lilac

Symbol: Ginkgo

Gavin is a special police officer. He has a rebellious and unruly personality, but has his own set of principles. He gives people a sense of danger, so it’s difficult for people who just met him to associate him with the police. Gavin is a brave and decisive man. He has many informants from grey areas, and his own set of views on good and evil. He often breaks some of the rules that people deem conventional, and uses some less “just” means to achieve his goals. He doesn’t bother nor care to explain himself to people who misunderstand him.

Gavin has a fearless and adventurous spirit. As compared to words, his inner heart is often expressed directly through actions. He is like a lone wolf who looks lonely, dangerous, and does things in his own way.

In reality, however, he is very loyal, and will not be easily shaken once he settles on someone. He also has a gentle side hidden beneath his appearance.

⭐️ Kiro ⭐️

Age: 22

Height: 176cm

Birthday: 9 April

Star sign: Aries

Blood type: O

Identity: Superstar

Evol: Absolute charm and Absolute control

Hobbies: Music, delicious food, superhero movies, etc.

Guardian Animal: Small Bear / Stag

Lucky flower: Small daisies

Symbol: Stars

Kiro is a person akin to the sun. Cheery as the sun, extremely charismatic, frank and sincere, and has healing powers like a small bear. He clearly understands the sophistication of humanity and the darker sides of reality, but he will not be affected by them.

He is proud but not arrogant. He is witty and steady at critical moments, and is very reliable. Sometimes, he likes playing pranks, and is cute and sly. Kiro likes ordinary life, black technology, and has a strong talent in the realm of computers.

He is a dedicated celebrity who debuted as a child star and has put in a lot of effort on the road to becoming a superstar. Optimistic, he will not be defeated by small setbacks. He is very strict with himself and is a perfectionist. Although he is very busy at work, he never complains, and will always hope to present his best to the audience.

In reality, however, being a celebrity is only Kiro’s surface occupation. He possesses multiple identities and his own goals.

🌹 Victor 🌹

Age: 28

Height: 183cm

Birthday: 13 January

Star sign: Capricorn

Blood type: A

Identity: President of LFG, Manager and chef of Souvenir

Evol: Time control

Hobbies: Work, cooking, art

Guardian Animal: Black Cat / Lion

Lucky flower: Red rose

Symbol: Pocket watch

As the president of LFG, Victor, although young, has excellent business acumen and leadership qualities, and is also a capitalist who is strict about people and things. At the same time, he also has a hidden identity that can present another side of his character - the manager and chef of French restaurant Souvenir.

Decisive, only talking about rules and not feelings, everything he does has his company’s interests in mind. He is not a kind philanthropist, and will not waste time and money on meaningless things.

Like a lion, he is born with a kingly aura, and is majestic and domineering. He is based at the top of the food chain.

Although he seems cold and indifferent, there are actually soft corners in his heart which make him feel protective over weak and small things.

⚡️ Shaw ⚡️

Age: 20

Height: 182cm

Birthday: 21 June

Star sign: Gemini

Blood type: O

Identity: Graduate student from the Department of Archaeology at Loveland University

Evol: Lightning control

Hobbies: Extreme sports, rock music, street graffiti, collecting antiques, etc.

Guardian Animal: Red Panda / Shark

Lucky flower: Pink clematis

Symbol: Lightning

Shaw is the only graduate student in the Archaeology Department of Loveland University, and is an avid rock music lover. He is the bassist of Isolated, an underground band, and performs occasionally. He has a flamboyant personality and often gives people the first impression of “if you’re a stranger, don’t get close to me”, but the quietness and delicateness hidden deep in his heart can only be appreciated by those who are particularly close to him.

His identity is a mystery, and he often wanders between different forces. No one knows what his purpose is. The Dragonfly Eye glass bead from the Warring States period on his chest seems to have a special power which can take him across different world lines.

He is like a dangerous hunter shark in the ocean. Once he smells something or someone that interests him, he will plunder it mightily without pretence.

#mlqc

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mopeytropey · 3 years

Text

a beer bud series: chapter 11

author’s note: times are tough. stay safe. read some fluffy fic. take care of each other.

Timeline: this is set just before Lincoln and Octavia's wedding, probably in the realm of chapters 11 and 12 of apu, after Clarke has given Lexa a key and asked her to move in (because they are both too gay to function)

Beer: La Ferme Urbaine FARMHOUSE ALE

Influenced by the Belgian saison style, La Ferme Urbaine features a complex blend of German hops, pilsner and pale malts, wheat, rye, oats, and spelt. The beer pours a hazy straw color and delivers a spicy, dry finish.

ABV 7.8%

Posted to AO3 here, or below the cut:

:::

“This is going to require some intense renovations.” Lexa stands with her hands in her front pockets, neck craned towards a dilapidated two-story house on a small corner lot. Its Victorian architecture is nearly eclipsed by peeling paint, broken windows, and a sagging porch, but the way Lincoln’s face beams, it’s as if the house shows no signs of disrepair. “You sure you’re up to task?”

“Hell, yeah.” Lincoln’s confidence is as strong as the late afternoon sun, glaring in a burning orange glow as it reflects off the windows of the historic city buildings surrounding them.

He then launches into an animated diatribe of improvements and restoration projects, pacing the perimeter of the property as he gestures to certain aspects of the house with broad hands. He and Octavia have likely discussed these visions of their future home endlessly as they await inspection reports and closing signatures to make everything final. Their initial offer had been accepted almost immediately, and Lexa has to believe it is thanks to, in part (if not entirely), the authenticity of her good friend’s charming demeanor.

“It’ll be a massive undertaking, but with the right help—”

“You planning to swing a sledge with me during the demo stage?” Lincoln grins.

“God, no.” Lexa nearly shudders. “Though I imagine Clarke might enjoy the destructive release of aggression after some of her more challenging bar shifts.”

Lincoln chuckles and returns to stand by Lexa’s side as they continue to gaze up at the house. “Yeah, Octavia too.”

“I’m so excited for you.” Lexa smiles up at him, nudging their shoulders together as Lincoln meets her eye with a grin of his own. “About everything.”

His upcoming nuptials (which have explicitly been banned from being referred to as a wedding) are less than two months away, and Lincoln hopes to have the keys to their new house in hand before the ceremony. He and Octavia seem happier than ever—real life exemplars of a healthy, supportive relationship between two friends in love. Lexa feels a kindred satisfaction at having found something similar with Clarke. Perhaps no one would have predicted these outcomes, but she and Lincoln have done rather well for a couple of kids who spent years feeling unwanted and unloved.

“What can I say: I’m living my best life.”

“Truly,” Lexa laughs, leaning into the nook of Lincoln’s armpit as he wraps an arm around her shoulders.

Even for early April, the weather has warmed, and the sun hangs in the sky for longer intervals. There’s no longer a bite in the air, even in the cooler, evening temperature. The breezes coming in off of the harbor have a fresh scent, like rejuvenation in the air that will soon breed blossoms on all the trees and fresh shoots of grass beneath their feet.

Lexa is perfectly comfortable in her jeans and a soft, grey henley layered with a pastel flannel that she has permanently borrowed from Clarke’s side of the closet. A closet that they now share in an official capacity. Lexa’s mouth slopes into a stupid grin at the thought of their now shared space. Her stomach swoops because of the new gold key in her pocket that she can feel between her fingers.

“I could say the same for you,” Lincoln tells her, somehow reading her thoughts. “You get all your stuff moved in yet?”

Her breath stutters at the mention of it, at the vision of scattered boxes and her random belongings that have slowly infiltrated Clarke’s space. “My lease isn’t up until the end of the month, so I’ve been moving things gradually.”

“Not ready to fully commit, huh?” Lincoln jabs with a teasing grin.

“I feel exceptionally confident about it, thank you very much.”

“What? Just like that?” Lincoln laughs. “Where is the torturous, internal Lexa struggle? Where are the mountains of anxiety about making the wrong call or moving too fast? Is this what four months as Clarke’s girlfriend has done to you?”

Lexa shrugs as if her chest hasn’t just snapped like a rubber band at being called Clarke’s girlfriend, a title that still sparks jittery excitement. Particularly when she is still grasping the house key that Clarke has recently given her. “Apparently.”

“Well, it’s a good look on you.”

“Thanks.”

They’ve stopped at the house Lincoln intends to buy with Octavia on their way to food and beer at Dockside, having fallen into the habit of visiting the girls during their longest shift of the week. With the mention of Clarke and the newest development in their relationship, Lexa feels a sudden wave of impatience to continue their walk to the bar where she knows Clarke and Octavia will be waiting to greet them.

Lincoln releases a long, contented sigh. “Should we head down to see the girls?”

Lexa exhales in turn and attempts to answer in a measured and completely unhurried manner: “Sure.”

:::

It’s just shy of six when Lincoln pulls open the front door of Dockside, allowing Lexa to walk through into the familiar establishment. Her eyes perform a practiced scan of the room, but Clarke isn’t immediately visible as she and Lincoln head straight for the half-empty bar counter.

Octavia is chatting with other customers as Lexa and Lincoln approach, but she winks at Lincoln, her mouth curving just so, mid-conversation, which has him beaming as he slides into a bar stool.

“That’s my future wife,” he stage whispers, and Lexa can’t help but smile at how ridiculous being in love with Octavia has made him.

They’d been more than halfway to the bar when Lexa had received an S.O.S from Clarke about caffeine and sudden fatigue and exaggerated pronouncements of loyalty, commitment, and sexual favors if Lexa would bring her coffee. Of course, it strictly goes against her better judgement to enable Clarke’s reliance on caffeine in unhealthy measurements.

Then again, Lexa has lost almost all ability to ever actually tell her no because being in love with Clarke has made her better judgements ridiculously feeble.

As such, she stands beside Lincoln with a small half-caf drip in a paper cup from Clarke’s favorite roaster, a generous concession without fully giving in to her girlfriend’s unredeemable habit.

“Clarke’s in the back if you want to bring that to her,” Octavia says as she approaches.

“Oh. Okay.” Lexa starts for the black swinging door of storage before Octavia calls out again.

“Sorry—not the stockroom. The other back.” She’s jutting her thumb over her shoulder when Lexa turns around, indicating the narrow corridor behind the bar counter that leads to Clarke’s office and the back entrance.

“Oh. Right. Thanks,” Lexa smiles. “I’ll be right back,” she says to Lincoln.

“I’m starting a timer on my phone,” he calls after her. “Just because I’m curious to see how long it takes you to deliver a cup of coffee.”

She just manages to stop herself from flipping him off before pushing through the door, leaving him with a meaningless scowl.

:::

Clarke looks up from whatever she’s been working on as Lexa steps into the open doorway with a smile she intends to curb by biting her lower lip.

“Hey.”

“Oh my god, I can't believe you actually brought me coffee. I love you.” Clarke says it offhand, a bit theatrically even, but Lexa’s stomach flip-flops all the same.

She enters the office with a slow stride and gently places the paper cup onto Clarke’s desk. “That’s half decaf, by the way.”

Clarke’s face falls as she eyes the beverage with sudden disdain. “Oh my god, I can’t believe we have to break up.”

“Ouch. It’s nice to see you, too.”

“Get over here.” Clarke has already snared her wrist with a widening smile, pulling at Lexa’s arm so that she is forced to lean across the desk and meet Clarke’s waiting grin. “Hi,” she almost whispers after their lips part.

“Is this how you typically break up with people? Because it’s actually pretty enjoyable,” Lexa murmurs into the space between their lips.

“Shut up,” Clarke laughs before they are kissing again, Lexa’s palms flat against the desktop while Clarke’s fingers thread into her hair.

It’s still a soft greeting and nothing obscene—two people happy to be in the same space again after a short time apart—but Lexa feels the quickening of her pulse all the same.

“Thank you for my fake coffee.”

“Clarke.”

“Lexa.”

Never before has she felt so unapologetically mocked by a single person yet utterly enamored in spite of it. Lexa pinches her lips together and looks away from Clarke’s teasing smile.

“I have to get back out there,” she announces, finally pulling back to stand at her full height. “Lincoln thinks he’s being clever by setting a timer for my return.”

Clarke stands with a laugh. “I’ll come with you. I need a break from these orders anyway.” She holds her fake coffee with one hand and finds Lexa’s fingers with the other. She kisses Lexa’s shoulder cap and regards her fondly. “I’m never getting this shirt back, am I?”

“Especially not now that we’ve broken up.”

The genuine hurt that immediately darkens Clarke’s eyes coupled with her protruding lower lip stops Lexa from moving towards the office doorway.

She stills her movements entirely as Clarke says, “I don’t want to joke about breaking up anymore.”

“It was your joke to begin with,” Lexa softly reminds her, nevertheless smoothing the pad of her thumb over Clarke’s lower lip.

“I know,” Clarke says, frowning still. “It was a stupid joke, and I don’t like to think about it.”

A soft press of her lips to Clarke’s forehead has her leaning into the touch, releasing Lexa’s fingers to curl an arm around Lexa’s waist.

“If you think you would be able to get rid of me that easily, Clarke, we might need to revisit some previous conversations about my intentions in being with you.”

“I seem to recall some very persuasive measures that we engaged in alongside those conversations,” Clarke says, her smile pressing into Lexa’s neck where she has tucked her head beneath Lexa’s chin.

Lexa hums through a smile of her own. If she didn’t know Clarke so well, it would be easy to mistake her perpetual, single-minded focus on sex as a complete lack of sentimentality.

But, Lexa isn’t fooled.

Clarke thrives on crass innuendo and well-meaning objectification (both of herself and Lexa), but she can also be openly sensitive and affectionate. Vulnerable in her need to be near Lexa—to feel safe and connected—as often as possible.

Lexa can’t say for sure if they will always be so desperate for each other’s company, if small fractions of time spent apart will continue to breed an urgency for reuniting. She has been in enough relationships to know that attachments usually fade and the needs of each person most often change over time.

Still, something tells her that when it comes to this relationship, Clarke will break the mold of every truth Lexa has previously known.

“The point is: I’m not going anywhere,” Lexa tells her, and Clarke looks up at her with a renewed smile. “Although, you’re still not getting this shirt back.”

Clarke kisses the underside of her jaw and tightens the hold she has around her waist. “You can keep all of my shirts as long as I get to keep you.”

“Deal,” Lexa answers, finally leading them out of the office.

Lincoln will roast her for having taken an exorbitant amount of time to deliver Clarke’s coffee, but having Clarke hugged against her side, Lexa finds she doesn’t exactly care.

:::

In an hour’s time Lexa has been fed no less than six times—small plates of food from the kitchen’s rotating menu like an assembly line in front of her and Lincoln—and an empty beer glass is no sooner bussed than another full one appears. As it turns out, dating a bar manager and sustaining a lifelong friendship with her business partner’s fiancé is a pretty good gig for libations and keeping well fed. By 8:00, she’s not necessarily sober, but the continuous parade of appetizers that Octavia and Clarke slide in front of Lexa and Lincoln keep her from tipping over the edge into properly drunk.

“This one is my favorite.”

“You’ve said that about the last three.”

Lincoln crunches into his charred nopales and street corn tostada as if to be sure. “Nope. This is the one.”

Lexa smiles around a second bite of her Korean short ribs and savors the balanced marinade—a perfect blend of smoky sweetness and tangy spice.

She is washing it down with a saison from Rhode Island as Octavia swings out of the kitchen and approaches their end of the bar.

“How good is that corn?”

“The whole thing is amazing,” Lincoln tells her.

Octavia swipes an avocado off his plate without hesitation. “What about the Kalbi?”

It sounds conversational, the way that Octavia, as a friend, is asking Lexa about her meal. But, in spending the past year of her life in proximal relation to her, Lexa has determined that, in some capacity, Octavia is actually always working.

“These are easily some of the best short ribs I’ve ever had.”

“Yeah,” Octavia grins. “I’m obsessed with them. Jane has been on staff for less than two months, and she’s already killing it back there.”

“Be sure to extend my compliments to the chef. Beer is incredible, too,” Lexa adds.

“What did Clarke bring you this time? The Foolproof?”

“Their farmhouse, yeah.” Lexa’s attention is drawn to the kitchen doorway again as Clarke exits carrying plates of food. She doesn’t glance in their direction as she drops the plates farther down the bar, but her smile is warm and bright, and Lexa can’t look away.

There’s a generous crowd strung along the bar counter, plus a few of the nearby tables that keep rotating with guests who stay for a drink or two before heading off into the night. Clarke is engaging with the three men who have just received their plates of food, and Lexa’s ears attune to the friendly pitch of her voice while Octavia and Lincoln momentarily hold their own conversation.

Lexa sips her saison and enjoys the way Clarke handles herself in conversation—confident, approachable, friendly, but with a distant professionalism. It’s not until she registers the distinct tone of patriarchal arrogance coming from a few of Clarke’s guests that Lexa realizes Octavia and Lincoln have also clued into the nearby exchange.

From what Lexa can gather, over the din of other surrounding patrons, the men are attempting to challenge the accuracy of Clarke’s knowledge on one of Dockside’s pours. Clearly first-time patrons, to these men, Clarke is easily mistaken as the beautiful bartender in a nice dress with a friendly demeanor who pours their pints and delivers their food. They would never suspect that she is also the unassuming curator of every beer offered within the establishment and a well-read expert in the field of craft brewing.

If she didn’t find misogynistic biases against women in male-dominated fields to be nauseatingly unforgivable, Lexa would almost feel bad for what these guys have coming to them.

“This should be good,” Lincoln mutters with a deviant smile, and Lexa flicks her gaze to find Octavia looking half-amused, half-poised for lethal intervention.

In short, Clarke absolutely eviscerates the men’s inflated egos by seamlessly rattling off a short history on the brewery in question, explaining their evolution of kettle sours and dry-hopped IPAs with thrilling precision, all while maintaining her hospitable smile. The cohort of sexist men are left silenced and stunned as Clarke moves on to tend to the rest of the bar, leaving their gaping jaws in her wake.

“What a bunch of fucking morons,” Octavia grumbles with an eye roll just before another table of guests catches her attention and she is pulled away.

“I love it when she does that,” Lexa says, smiling in Lincoln’s direction.

“It is really gratifying to watch someone’s fragile masculinity skillfully shattered,” he agrees with a satisfied smile. “I’ll never understand it, that intrinsic need to be an expert on everything, but it’s entertaining as hell to see O and Clarke flex on these random assholes who waltz in here and mistakenly try to out-beer them.”

Lexa's smile widens as she and Lincoln clink their beer glasses together. “It really is.”

:::

“One strand of lights.”

“No.”

“A single banner. A classy one.”

“No.”

“Candles. Come on, O, no one can say no to candles.”

“Watch me.” Octavia, who up until this point had been withholding eye contact, gives Clarke a pointed glare. “No.”

Lexa smiles at Clarke’s frustrated groan while sipping her glass of water. Three-and-a-half pints of beer and countless plates of food have left her feeling fully satisfied if not also ready for bed. Clarke won’t close the bar for another few hours, and though Lexa acknowledges this is the reality of their chosen professions, she also wishes to steal Clarke away and take her home for a cuddle.

“Think about Lincoln,” Clarke continues, beating her dead wedding horse, much to Octavia’s dismay. “You’re depriving him of this fanfare, this pizazz, this well-deserved—”

“Don’t drag him into this,” Octavia interjects.

Clarke’s jaw drops. “He’s literally one half of the reason we’re celebrating! And honestly, with how difficult you’re being about this whole thing, it might be more like 70/30.”

Octavia rolls her eyes and starts to walk away, busying herself with clearing empty glasses from a table whose guests have just vacated. “When you two leave, will you take her with you?”

Her voice carries across the now mostly empty bar, and Clarke scowls at Octavia from where Lexa and Lincoln sit at the far end of the counter. They often lay claim to this section of the bar during their Wednesday night visits, and it always feels like a sacred, little huddle.

“That’s a tempting offer,” Lexa answers as Octavia breezes past them to deposit the empty glasses into her bus tub behind the bar.

Her comment successfully erases the look on Clarke’s face as their eyes meet, and she watches Clarke’s frown melt into a dopey smile.

“I’m not leaving you to close by yourself. Stop being so dramatic,” Clarke admonishes, though she is still smiling as her eyes leave Lexa to look over her shoulder at Octavia.

“I’m not by myself,” Octavia grunts, hoisting her black bin of glassware and dirty plates off a low shelf. “Jane and Murph are in the back. Take the orders home and finish them there. You know the last two hours of the night are the slowest midweek. I’ll be fine.”

“Stop trying to get rid of me just because you’re throwing a fit about candles,” Clarke shouts after her even though Octavia has already pushed through into the kitchen.

Their small end of the bar counter temporarily swells with music blaring from the line cooks and back-of-house staff, a stark contrast to the lo-fi hip hop Clarke has playing on a lower volume in the main room.

“I should get home either way,” Lexa admits with a short stretch of her arms, pulling taut the muscles of her back. “You fed me too well, and now I’m sleepy.”

“You’re a grandma every night of the week—in bed before ten or cranky as hell the next day.”

Lexa furrows her brow at Clarke’s unnecessarily accurate depiction of her sleep routines, but Lincoln laughs openly while nudging her shoulder.

“This one’s never been able to burn the midnight oil. Needs that beauty rest to maintain her cheerful disposition.”

“I’m officially breaking up with both of you.”

“Hey.”

Clarke’s pout is back, the color of her eyes saturated in renewed hurt at Lexa’s bad joke. Three-and-a-half beers have also made her forgetful, apparently.

“Sorry, sorry.” She reaches for Clarke’s wrists across the glossed wood of the bar and is gently rubbing her thumbs across Clarke’s pulse points when Octavia reemerges. “Just Lincoln then.”

Lincoln offers a good-natured shrug. “That’s fair.”

“See?” Octavia eyes the affectionate gesture between Clarke and Lexa with a practiced look of exasperation. “You could be doing this loved up shit in the privacy of your own home.”

“Says the one who is about to profess her undying love and commitment publicly in front of all our closest friends,” Clarke argues.

“I feel like if you keep reminding her, she’s more likely to back out,” Lincoln muses, and Lexa wonders if he is only half kidding.

Octavia pins him with a look. “Never.”

It’s a charged moment just for them, despite the fact that Clarke and Lexa are caught in its crosshairs, Lincoln grinning as he catches Octavia’s crooked smirk.

“I really should go,” Lexa reiterates quietly, not wanting to interrupt. Her day will start early the following morning with a delivery just south of Boston, and traffic will be nauseating through Sumner Tunnel. “Are you sure you don’t—”

“Seriously, get her out of here,” Octavia interjects. “She overworks and stays late out of guilt and loyalty, and it’s entirely unnecessary.”

“Keep insisting, and I’m gonna say yes,” Clarke shoots back, almost threatening if not for her smile.

“Good. Then you can stop badgering me about fucking tea lights.” Octavia flicks the side of Clarke’s head and smacks her ass as she passes by to clear more tables, and somehow Clarke is charmed by the violent affection.

“I’ll stay and keep her company,” Lincoln offers. “You guys should take off. Enjoy the early night.” He then leans in closely to them both, his head bent in conspiracy. “And, I really do like those paper lanterns that you guys string up on the deck sometimes.”

The way Clarke’s entire countenance glows, eyes sparkling in victorious mischief, has Lexa’s smile growing in kind.

“I. Love you. You wonderful, wonderful human.” Clarke places her hands affectionately on either side of Lincoln’s face and looks as if she might actually plant a kiss between his eyebrows. “I will not let you down or betray your confidence.” Her tone is gravely solemn as if they are alluding to something far more serious than wedding decor.

“Give me a second to gather my things from the office?” she then says to Lexa, her voice shifting to that delicate timbre that turns Lexa’s beating heart to a useless puddle.

She tells her, “Take all the time you need.”

“I’ll be quick.” Clarke reaches for her fingers, giving them a quick squeeze, and disappears into the back hallway.

“Did I mention we did very well, ending up with these two?”

Lexa looks over to catch Lincoln’s giant grin and feels her own lips stretching into a smile. “I’m proud of us.”

Lincoln very nearly giggles. “Me too.”

A beat or two of amicable silence passes between them, in which time Octavia has returned behind the bar to tend to her few, straggling guests.

“What are the chances Clarke already has a shitload of decorations she’s been stockpiling for this party?” Lincoln contemplates aloud.

Lexa’s response comes without hesitation.

“Oh yeah, without question.”

:::

#a beer bud series #apu #a pleasant undoing #brewkru!

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headcans-oneshots-and-stuff · 4 years

Text

Masquerade (Moonflower pt.2)

Part 1 - Moonflower Part 3 - Magical/Misery/Massacre

Warning: Harassing, Reader kinda suggest that she wants to have a meaningless One-Night-Stand, I kinda somewhat specified the height of the reader (by saying that you have to put your neck back to look at people over 6ft) so if your a tall boy/girl/dragon/human please just pretend you’re not thank you very much, swearing, again there are Yandere vibes (this time even more), also murder, but only in the Yandere Addition... Word count: 4k (sis snapped again) Summary: When the Riddler keeps ghosting around in your mind you know that you have to do something about it, that you couldn’t keep on harboring feelings for him, so you put on your mask and make your way to find distraction, but sometimes the things we see when we wear masks are not the things we expect...

Two months. It took not even two months for the mayor to forget the disaster of a Gala that he had organized last, even though it was a rather interesting experience for you, but for a completely different reason, and decide that it would be a great fucking idea to throw a masquerade ball. A MASQUERADE BALL?!? Who, in their right mind, thinks that it's a good idea to throw a ball where the people come in masks and costume-like dresses in a city WHERE MASKED LUNATICS ARE FIGHTING AGAINST OTHER MASKED (slightly less) LUNATICS??? Well, seemingly, it was the man who should, in theory, know best and somehow always proved you that he did, in fact, know just about nothing. So yes, after a long discussion about whether it was a good idea or not and Bruce somehow managing to convince Jason and Dick to come along (the party was only for grown-ups - much to Damian's, who hasn't left your side for longer than he had to ever since the last Gala, dismay), you were sitting in a car driven by one of Wayne Inc's chauffeurs in a deep violet dress that clung to your curves like a cosset, before blossoming into a wide skirt, beside Dick in a black and Jason in a very dark red suit. The fact that they both had worn these suits countless times before already while you had to buy this dress especially for this event pissed you off to no end. And not only that, no, because it was custom for males to wear simpler masks, Jason had a phantom of the opera-like mask, while Dick had decided to try and be funny by wearing a cheap Zorro-mask he had bought in a dollar store. You, on the other hand, looked down at the gold mask that Alfred had had custom made for you. It was incredibly beautiful. It was extremely filigree and looked like a complex mandala of golden wire which formed a fascinating swan over where your right eye would be.

"Are you okay?" Jason's voice from your right ripped you out of your thoughts and you looked up at him beside you. He eyed you somewhat concerned and you just slightly smiled and shrugged. "Yeah, everything fine, I was just lost in thoughts." He nodded unconvinced but turned forward again, not even budging when he felt you carefully leaning against his shoulder like you have done countless times since the two of you officially became siblings. You also felt Dick's eyes on you, but you just held your hand out to him and let him take it. Jason shifted a bit under you and you could've sworn that you heard him sniff at your hair, making you narrow your eyes in confusion. As if to confirm your assumption, he nudged you a bit and asked: "Are you using a new shampoo? Or is that a new perfume?" You had to physically restrain yourself from tensing up, your mind filling with the memories of the little gift the Riddler had left you and about how often you had packed it out again - thinking about what you should do - before putting it back, ever since the night you had found it. "It's a new shampoo, Cass gave it to me: Peonies and gold, not sure how gold is supposed to smell though," you told him truthfully, meeting your brothers' expectation and allowing them to get back to what they were doing, Dick playing on his Phone and Jason reading a pocket novel you had given him earlier this week. But you couldn't get back on your train of thoughts. Like so often these past eight weeks. You had no idea why, but ever since that kiss, the rouge just wouldn't leave your mind for longer than an hour at the time. You just couldn't understand how it had come to this. You didn't know him, he was basically a villain, he had kidnapped you and the kiss was only a distraction... And still... The kiss filled your dreams ever since, the scene just playing on repeat in your head. Maybe it would've been different without his little gift, without you knowing that he was thinking about you too. God, what were you supposed to do? You knew that what you were feeling had to be some weird sort of Stockholm syndrome or something like this, something that would go away after a while, because if not...what would you do if not? You couldn't realistically think that he and you would ever have anything close to a future together. You just had to forget him, so ever since you had seen the invitation for the Gala, you had made a plan. This party would be full of eligible bachelors who would have no idea who you were (or at least not at first), some of them had to be good enough for you to try to forget about your unlucky crush. "We're here," filled the voice of the chauffeur the car and you sat up straight, looking out of the darkened window to see the red carpet and the paparazzi that were taking pictures of the masked celebrities walking towards the city hall. "Here we go," you tightly smiled and put the mask on, securing it with the black ribbon behind your head. The man who had driven the car got out and opened the door, making space for Dick to leave the car and walk forward, greeting the Cameras with his trademark smile. You had agreed earlier that you would leave a minute between every one of you exiting in a cheap attempt to make it less obvious who you were. It was clear that everyone would recognize Jason and Dick by their height and the suits, but you - due to a good mix of make-up, hair styling and the mask - still had hope left that you would get through the evening unrecognized. When Dick had disappeared inside you nodded at Jason and took your chauffeur's hand as he helped you step outside, trying to smoothen the skirt of your dress in the process. Immediately flashes off light filled your eyes and you tried your best not to blink and keep the smile on your face. For a few seconds, you struck a few poses, presenting the beauty that was the dress, before you followed your brother, giving the space up for Jason to do the same.

The inside of the Hall was filled to the brim with people in all kinds of dresses and suits with just about every kind of mask on a face somewhere. Groups of people were scattered around the room and you could see that Dick had already made his way over to a small group of girls who wore matching black dresses with white carnival-like masks. You rolled your eyes, but smiled and turned away to decide what to do next. That was the problem with Galas like these. Even if you knew people, you couldn't be sure where they are or if they were even here, so it was like a college party only days after you moved to a new town. Well, you got through your college parties by drinking so why not give that attempt a shot now too, right? So you sashayed over to the bar that had been constructed on the side opposite of the entrance and gestured the bartender over to you. He nodded and quickly made his way over, taking your order before turning around and getting started on your Old fashioned. "Well, hello beautiful," a dark, hoarse voice rang through your ears from beside you and you turned into the direction it came from, your eyes landing on a man that looked like he was as sure of himself as it could get. He was wearing a metallic-silver suit with a black shirt below it and, even though you yourself wouldn't necessarily go for it if you had to choose, you had to admit that it looked good on him. On his face was a mock-batman-mask and he had a five o'clock shadow that looked just groomed enough to be handsome. He will do, you thought and forced yourself to smile at his cheesy 'not-even' pick-up line. "You don't look too bad yourself," you shrugged and bowed your head slightly in thanks at the bartender who handed you your drink. "Ah, a girl of good taste," he smirked, trying to be smug and funny by not clarifying if he meant the drink or your comment. The physical restrain you had to put yourself through to not roll your eyes almost surprised you and you took a big sip of the drink, hoping it would loosen you up enough to make you look over the comments. You welcomed the burn in your throat but inwardly damned yourself for having a high alcohol tolerance that would make it impossible for you to get drunk from under at least thee drinks. "So," you sighed and leaned against the bar, "What's up with the mask?" "Don't tell anyone, but I'm really Batman and I'm just here undercover," the man said just slightly too serious to make you believed he was joking, bringing whatever attraction you had towards him down. "Does that line ever work?" "You'd be surprised, but you look like the kinda girl who doesn't need a pick-up line for some fun," he winked and came uncomfortably close to you. Welp, so much for that guy... "You know what-" you downed the drink, put it back onto the bar and turned to go, "-I'm not really in the mood for some fun, so if you'll excuse me." That was when you felt a hands on the side of your torso, just inches below your chest, and a sense of Terror filled you. Terror not for you, but for the man that had been foolish enough to touch you without permission in a room with any of your siblings. Your eyes quickly flew through the room, searching for your brothers to find out how long the douchebag had before his arms would be ripped out (figuratively) and you spotted Dick on the dance floor with a girl in a sparkly pink dress, but Jason - even though he should be visible alone by the sheer size of him- wasn't anywhere to be found. "Listen, buddy, you really don't wanna-" "Here you are!" a voice interrupted your warning and both you and the man that was behind you looked to your right to see a tall man, towering over you even more than Jason usually did, in a sharp, expensive-looking, green suit. He stood out like a sunflower in a field of tulips, not only because of the outfit but because he was the only one in the room who wasn't wearing a mask, and something about him made your breath hitch slightly. He seemed eerily familiar, but you couldn't place his face with anyone you knew. It was like time was frozen while your eyes wandered his body up until you reached his face, having to put your head back a bit, and you took in his neatly dishevelled brown hair that looked like it was always this way, but others would try for hours to replicate it before they ended looking into his blue ones. Suddenly time started again and the sounds of the room, that had been drowned out by your thoughts, came crushing back and you had to slightly shake your head to keep your composure. "I've been searching for you all over, you've promised me a dance remember?" the man smiled and you quickly realized that he just might be your (and with that unknowingly to both of them also your harasser's) saviour. "Oh, right, sorry, I was otherwise occupied, but I have the next dance reserved for you," you played along and removed the Hands on your waist, they had been wandering downwards when the man had realized he was in a tricky situation, stepping forward to take the hand the maskless man was holding out towards you. "You can't just-" the man behind you, that seemed to have snapped out of the trance he had been in, started to shout, but was almost immediately interrupted when your saviour put the hand that wasn't (very gently as you noted) holding yours onto his shoulder. You could see the fabric of the silver suit wrinkle notably under his seemingly forceful grip and the look on the face of the man in said suit twisted in pain confirmed your suspicion that the hold he had on him had to be way harder than necessary, not that you complained. "I think the lady just said that she had the next dance reserved for me, right?" his voice was polite, but even the most social clueless person would be aware of the threatening undertone. Your harasser could only nod before his shoulder was released and he hurried away, trying to hide that he couldn't move his arm properly anymore. When he was completely out of sight your saviour let go of your hand and eyed you as if he was making sure you weren't hurt, before smiling at you with something like fondness. "Thank you for that," you smiled back and smoothed your dress down before holding your hand out again, ignoring that he had let it go only seconds earlier. He looked down at your hand with confusion and you couldn't help but chuckle a bit, not noticing how his eyes seemed to widen and his cheeks seemed to redden just the slightest. "I told you I have the next dance reserved for you and after you saved me that's the least I could do to thank you. Only if you want of course." It was like that flipped a switch inside him because before you could blink you were standing on the dancefloor with the arm that wasn't holding his hand around his neck and his on your waist, high enough to not be sexual, but low enough to not be completely innocent. "So-" the two of you swayed to the rhythm of the classic song playing in the background and you couldn't explain why you felt the urge rise to lean against his chest "-what's up with the lack of the mask?" He slightly tilted his head to the right as if thinking about what to answer, while simultaneously spinning the two of you around. "Maybe this is my mask," he simply stated and you knew it was just supposed to be a humorous comment, but you couldn't shake the feeling like it was more cryptic than you thought, "And I got invited pretty short term and didn't have time to get one." That was more like it. You giggled and couldn't help but play with the hair on the back of his neck, glad that he didn't seem to react to it. "Well, whatever the reason, I'm glad you're not wearing one because if you had been, I'd be deprived of that face," you smirked slightly and decided to take the initiative. You had no idea what it was about that man, but the two of you dancing so close to each other, his eyes gazing into yours and his hand on your waist, made your heart beat out of your chest, it was like the kiss you had with the Riddler all over again and for the first time in weeks the thought of that kiss disappeared again seconds after it came into your mind and you couldn't help but think that maybe this man was just what you were searching for. For a few seconds, the two of you just looked at each other, your eyes having the conversation that your heart wanted and it was like a bigger power was in control of your bodies when both of you started to lean in for what was supposed to be a kiss if it hadn't been for someone tapping at your shoulder. It was like a spell dispersed and you couldn't help but flinch away, even if all you wanted was to continue what you were doing, not noticing the slightly angered tint that made its way onto your dance partners' face. "Uhm, are you Y/N?" the girl, which you recognized as Dick's companion from earlier, asked you shyly, clearly aware that she had interrupted a situation. "Yeah," you sighed, thinking that this was Dick's attempt at being a protective older brother without actually being at blame. "Your brothers said that they have something to talk to you about, they are waiting outside." You turned to look at the exit to the garden, flashes of memories of being drugged in front of your eyes, before turning to your partner and smiling apologetically, "I'm sorry, I just have to quickly go, but I'll be right back, don't move okay?" He returned the smile, but it didn't seem as genuine as it was earlier and nodded.

When you stepped into the cold night air you couldn't help but sigh at your lack of luck. You looked around and saw your brothers at the outer wall that parted the garden from the street seemingly talking in hushed voices. Jason was the first who noticed you and soon the two of them started walking towards you, the three of you meeting in the middle. "So? What's going on?" you asked worried, recognizing the look in their eyes, the same look they always had when there was an unexpected mission. "Bruce just called, there's a Joker attack a few blogs from here and he needs all the help he can get." "Okay, I'll excuse you if anyone asks where you are and recognizes me," you just shrugged, not sure why they had to meet you outside for that. It was surely not the first time they randomly disappeared during an event and you had to make up excuses. You had expected something more 'serious'. "I'm afraid that this won't be how it'll go tonight-" Jason sighed and petted your head slightly, "-Bruce clearly stated, that he wants you to go home, he already sent the driver. He's still a bit shaken up by what happened last time." "What?" you exclaimed questioningly, "But that-" "No discussion," Dick stopped you and gave you a small peck on your forehead before he and Jason hurried to the gate that would bring them to the ally where they had hidden their costumes beforehand. For a while, you just kept standing there, the cold air crashing down onto your skin and making goosebumps appear. You tried to think of all the ways that you could just get back to what you were doing before, how you could get back to the man that had your heart beat quicker just minutes after having met him, but all your thoughts just went right back to the fact that you couldn't. That you had to leave now. Your thought process was disrupted when you felt something smooth cover your shoulders and arms. A quick look down your body showed you that a familiar green suit jacket had been laid onto you. Swiftly you turned around, hoping your dance partner would stand behind you but there was no sign of him anywhere near. Confusion filled you and you hurried over to the doors leading back inside, thinking that you may see him going back in, but he was nowhere to be seen. Before you could start to search for him further your chauffeur from earlier caught your attention, waiting for you at the entrance. There was a war being fought inside you, your heart wanting to go back into the crowd and find him, your brain knowing how hopeless the situation was.

One of the side-effects of being raised by Bruce Wayne was that your brain won the fights it had against your heart. That was why, a few minutes later, you were sitting in the car on your way back to Wayne Manor, the jacket still around your shoulders despite the confused look your chauffer had given you. It was basically pooling around you, multiple sizes bigger than you and you couldn't help but relish in the sense of security it gave. You leaned against the backdoor, your forehead against the cool darkened window when you felt something solid pushing against you. A bit perplex you straightened up again and started to tap around until your right hand landed on something that was slightly budging out the right Jacket pocket. Curiously you put your hand into the opening and pulled out its contents. You stared down at the little green, velvet ring box that was laying in your opened hand besides a black business card. Even though you couldn't rip your gaze away from the box, your left hand grabbed for the card and turned it around before you ripped your eyes to it for the fraction of a second before your heart figuratively stopped. The only thing that was printed onto it was the image of a green Questionmark, leaving the origins of the card without any ambiguities. But that means... This Jacket, the man you had danced with, the man you had almost kissed... Well, seemingly almost kissed again... It was him all along, he had saved you and had let you flirt with him right in front of your brothers, without knowing how risky it had been. Your mind was starting to get fogged with all kinds of thoughts, but they all scattered again when you looked back to the box. Your movements were slow as you laid the card down on the seat beside you and opened the velvet cap. Every blood cell in your body stopped moving when you saw the vast Amethyst that was embedded into a ring that looked tiny in comparison with the stone and for the second time that evening it was like you weren't in control of your body as you took the ring out of the case and brought it up into the light to look it over. It had to be extremely expensive, something that even Bruce would think about twice before buying, and it wasn't just that, no, your eyes landed on an engraving on the inside of the ring. For my one and only Moonflower -Ed.

[Yandere Addition]

Trevor Beck's night was far from great. At first, the hot chick he had tried to chat up on the party his dad had dragged him along to had rejected his advances even though she had clearly been interested before and then this creepy dude had grabbed him so hard that he had surely dislocated his shoulder. With pain running through his arm, he decided that this stupid Gala wasn't worth it and called a cab to bring him home. He didn't realize that what happened before was not even close to the worse that would be happening to him this evening, because when he came home, he wasn't alone in his apartment. When he came into his bedroom, there were bags filled with stolen money and jewellery lying on the floor. And when he wanted to call the police upon seeing the letter that was lying on his dresser, a letter written in his handwriting that confessed to his family having had money problems and that he couldn't live without this lifestyle and decided to take matters into his own hand, only to regret what the letter said he'd done, a single shot through the side of his head kept him from following up on that action. Edward was careful as he planted the gun that Trevor had kept in his night shelf for protection into his palm to make sure his fingerprints were on it, before making sure no traces would suggest that he had help with ending his life. He knew that besides the lack of evidence they'd have for it to be murder, the GCPD would be happy enough to have found the one (allegedly) responsible for one of the biggest and unexplained jewellery heists and even if it was suspicious that Trevor had no prior criminal record beside harassment, they wouldn't investigate further. Ed tried to tell himself that he only did this to avoid gaining the attention for the heist, but deep inside he knew that he had many options on how to do that that wouldn't include killing. Deep inside he knew that he had done that because Trevor had dared to touch what was supposed to be his... Had touched his moonflower...

A/N: This was one of - if not the- most requested things I’ve ever had on my blog! Thank you all so so so much! This also inspired me to try my hand at Aesthetics and I’d be happy if you guys would let me know if you like it! And....maybe, if people like it, there’s still some inspiration left for a final part three....who knows? Also, here are the non-anons who requested a second part: @sirkekselord @redhildatodd @nate-sakura And for all of you who are wondering, the Yandere addition at the end is not really relevant to the story and most likely won’t be picked up again, but I just had that thought in my head while writing and thought people might like it.

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doomstypewriter · 3 years

Note

abt the last ask: u dont have to include it ofc (if u write it at all) but i thought id let u know that its based on the mental image i suddenly had of j climbing up to pats window, knocking on the shutters, pat pulling him in by his lapels and immediately kissing him (if you can even call it that with how hard theyre smiling) & then sometime later pat hearing like his dads footsteps coming toward his room as theyre making out so pat scrambles off his bf & shoves him in his closet (the irony)

Anon, finally, here you have it, but with a twist. This got completely out of hand, as per usual when I write anything. Since you were so nice (/li) to send me your request in two parts, I will actually break your prompt into two parts, otherwise, it’s never going to end. I hope you’re pleased by the first part, also, I am answering to this first because it matches the content of the first part.

Thank you so much for your lovely prompt! Hope you enjoy!

If anyone wants to be tagged for this let me know in a comment!

AO3

Chapter 2 >>

We call it an affair because it’s a forbidden romance

Summary: An encounter in the dark. The disdain of society. A forbidden romance. Royalty is involved and a title is at stake. Will an aspiring count, Patton Morandi and his rogue lover Janus overcome the barriers laid in front of them?

(We're in it for the drama)

---

“So long away and what I least expect is not you saving my life, but finding myself having missed your nonsense”.

“Is it nonsense when I make you smile like this?”

Word count: 3848

Pairings: Moceit, future Prinxiety.

TW: Homophobia, internalised homophobia, deadnaming a trans person, misogyny, mentions of religion, hopelessness, ideological things you would expect from the period (I'm not sure if there's anything else, but please tell me).

Chapter 1 of 2:

Balcony kiss

How the moonlight shone in its quiet dance with the nightly air. It was a mostly clear summer evening, the second day of the week-long festival. The sounds of music and colourful lights could be heard and seen from the distance, but gradually decreased as a certain thief made its way across the gardens of Villa Morandi. For certain, the head of the family would not be excessively happy about the entire ordeal, but no disgruntlement could come out of those things of which one has no knowledge of, and Janus surely intended to keep his entanglement a secret.

He crossed the bushes and jumped over marble balustrades expertly, careful to avoid the lights of the servant quarters, where their residents were reading themselves for departure.

“Signor Morandi seems to be in good spirits lately, it is fortunate that most of us can leave for the festival”.

Any news about the man was something worth listening to, given his situation, so he decided to stay and see if they mentioned something useful. Also, he, admittedly, enjoyed gossip.

“Loretta! Don’t be such a bragger in front of us!”

“Why? I’d say the only one lamenting not being able to go is you. You should be ashamed for dragging poor Virginia in with you to make yourself sound less self-centred”.

Janus silently nodded.

“That is not true! I am merely trying to make the newcomer feel welcome! And here you are making her feel excluded, who is now in the wrong?”

Weak retort, wannabe-partygoer, he thought.

“Va, va…” the other maid answered dismissively “Quit holding her like that! Don’t you see she’s uncomfortable?! Povera bambina”.

“Come on Virginia, don’t you think it’s a waste for such a wrinkly woman to be let out instead of us?”

“Who are you calling old?!”

“You did, but now that you so kindly brought it up, you are old! Turning wrinklier by the second!”

Alright, at this point, Janus could not help but be rooting for Loretta, going for the old card was the low-hanging fruit.

“I may be your senior, but I promise you that regardless of that nonsense about wrinkles you’re babbling I’m ten times more fair looking!”

“Ah!” she exclaimed with feigned indignation. “Can you believe her? She’s delusional!”

“Well then, the delusional one will not search for a man at the festival, such a pity I will not be introducing anyone to you this week!”

He smiled at the comeback. Way to go, Loretta.

“Loretta! Just because you had the luck to get engaged doesn’t give you the right to rob others of their chances. Don’t be so mean, I’ll apologise if I must”.

“Alright, but never dare call me wrinkly again, for you will owe this old woman when I find you a husband. Virginia, I can help you too if you want it, I know plenty of young lads who would love to…”

“Oh, no, I’m not really interested”.

At this point Janus had quenched his thirst for amusement and begun to lose his interest, having more pressing matters to attend to. But, one new comment made him reconsider the usefulness of his eavesdropping for longer on the ladies’ conversation.

“That’s right, Loretta, don’t you see she’s here on official duty. To suggest for her to slack off with men… ts, ts… “

“Oh, you shut up! Don’t fret, Virginia, dear, I should have remembered you were sent for an urgent matter”.

“True, true! Tell us if you can, is it as they say? Was her ladyship done in by pirates?”

“Elda! Such crude language, you dare call yourself a lady, how can you say something so insensitive?”

“What? You want to know as badly as I do, besides, if it is true, then there is no changing it, and if it’s not then it’s fine, as her ladyship is still alive”.

“I’m so sorry, Virginia, just ignore her”.

“Don’t worry. As far as I’m willing to say, her ladyship still lives but I cannot disclose any further information”.

Oh.

No.

When one spies on others, bad news exists as a possibility, but, usually, in the form of getting caught. This happened to be worse. Being spotted? That he could deal with. Having his heart ripped out after one stellar month? Not so much.

He ran.

Not from his problems. More or less towards them.

The marble balcony seemed as unreachable as ever. A sense of dread loomed over his thoughts, while a mix of feelings, now turned into urgency, settled in his heart.

Raising a hand Janus willed his trustworthy companion to fall from the nightly skies. Meanwhile, he began to climb the walls of the manor. There was an undeserved elegance in his motions, not becoming of such an honourless goal, and, nevertheless, fitting for a thief like him.

The hawk swept inside the room from a window and cast the doors to the balcony open.

Janus promptly grabbed onto the bass of the marble balustrade. One month ago he had received news of something that would simplify his life. He knew he should not care, it was going to end poorly no matter what. But, rereading two months worth of love letters and hoping for an uncertain future, he could not help but feel happy. That made his resolve to return in time for the festival.

From the room came a sound of rushing footsteps.

Three months of yearning to see a face again.

That image made Janus more desperate, and, in his haste, he committed one fatal mistake. His grip on the marble slipped. At a thirty feet height, the ground beckoned him.

But, just when his doom seemed so certain, he was caught by the front of his cape and safely gathered against a pair of lips.

With such smiles stretching their faces, it could barely be called a kiss. But, the intensity of the affections behind it rendered the notion meaningless.

“My love”, Janus muttered as they parted ever so slightly.

“You scared me, silly. I miss you for three months and when you’re returned to me I almost lose you for good”.

“Let’s be happy you were there to catch me”.

“Thank the Lord, and if He wills it, I will always be”.

“I ought to be grateful to you, my dear, not the ones above” he answered while stepping to the safe side of the balcony.

“Well, our poor feathery friend can’t be too happy about that” Patton laughed dismissively, gazing at Janus’ hawk.

“You’re right. I neglect to show my gratitude, perhaps you could give me somewhere to start?”

“Oh, but how can I hand you my room, my sweet, the stones of the house are too heavy!”

“So long away and what I least expect is not you saving my life, but finding myself having missed your nonsense”.

“Is it nonsense when I make you smile like this?”

Janus laughed in delight.

“Let me make you smile in turn, then”, he said, whilst extending his hand.

The touch of Patton’s palm felt like a warm pressure through the barrier of his leather gloves. Perhaps all of his interactions were as imperfect as their naked hands not being able to meet. Janus’ fake gallantry, their hopes, may be short-lived in the face of change. But, for now, he would rather enjoy pretending.

He pulled Patton to the inside of the alcove.

“Are you refined now?” Patton laughed.

“Of course, I have always been. Whatever could lead you to ask such a question? If I were to be a thief, which I am not, I would be the most honourable”.

There was a certain amount of delight to be found in catching his lover in the midst of changing into his night robes, judging by those being laid out onto the bed’s ostentatious covers. Despite such a degree of luxury surrounding Patton, he still refused to task any servant to dress him. What was there not to love about the man?

Patton made a motion as if to hold his hands, only to surprise him by pulling his gloves off. Any other person, and it would have been a display of sensuality, coming from him, it was like movement turned into honey, perhaps a mixture of both. Indeed, there was everything to love about him.

Maybe not all. Janus dreaded to admit how deep in he had allowed himself to be for this man.

A fool for a good man.

His hands felt the light night coldness in their grip on the linen shirt. Janus almost wanted to chastise himself as the thought of kissing away the kiss of the midnight breeze came to mind. He hid in the curve of Patton’s neck, sliding his lips along it, feeling like a coward whispering a lie. Countless lies. Telling himself this was enough, that he could bear the thought of this man taken away from him by a woman, that the thrill in this forbidden form of vice was not his worry taking yet another disguise.

“Oh, you’re a thief alright”.

“Is there something of yours I happen to have taken?” Janus retorted with a vague tone of amusement.

Patton cradled his left cheek in a firm request to see his face. Who was Janus to deny him?

“You know all too well you have”.

Oh.

“Well, that would make two of us”.

Patton’s expression melted into more honey. It always made Janus unsure as to whether he had made a mistake, no matter how unfounded the doubt was.

“Thank you” the words rebounded in proximity against the other’s lips. Janus didn’t know Patton could also be cruel.

“A little sincerity never hurt anyone”.

“You are not anyone” he smiled softly.

“Then make the pain up to me”.

Both their lips made contact like a wax seal on a letter. Janus pushed Patton against a low piece of furniture. From how the other fumbled, he could tell a corner was pressing against him. Despite the sting, Patton still committed himself to their affections. If that wasn’t a metaphor for their relationship Janus didn’t know what it was. Janus knew Patton would disagree, of course.

It seemed that exchanging one piece of furniture for another, the bed, would not be possible. Someone was knocking on the door.

“Janus…” Patton panicked in a hushed voice.

“Not a problem, my dear, this is my speciality” he smiled at him.

Janus’ feet almost flew over the carpet, muffled by the Persian fibres and his expertise on avoiding the parts of the floor that creaked. He turned the key of Patton’s wardrobe without the distinctive noise most people couldn’t avoid. Luckily for them, he wasn’t most people. The door mysteriously closed itself from the inside. Janus could swear to hear Patton draw a breath in wonder as to how he had done it.

“My son, let me in!” a voice came from the corridor.

“On my way, father”.

The mule-like bray of the alcove’s door hinges Janus detested preceded the sound of a set of footsteps he knew and loathed just as well, if not more.

“Were you reading yourself for bed? Ah, do not answer, I can already see your night robes over there. How many times need I tell you, call the servants to dress you, it is unbecoming that you do not. Moreso with the status you are to acquire”.

Janus almost scoffed upon hearing it.

It wasn’t that Janus outright looked down on Signor Morandi. He certainly held an admirable reputation and an even more admirable wealth. He contributed to the church, upheld his honour, was a patron to a few talented artists and did everything expected from someone of his status. By societal definition, he was an outstanding man. But, he could never understand Patton. Yes, Patton’s behaviour in public also stood to scrutiny. He was a young man to be admired, for sure. Yet, it somehow mismatched any other person’s strive for reputability. Patton lacked this performative quality, eagerness, if you will, that he found time and time again in people.

At first, Janus struggled to comprehend it. Everyone had desires outside of the strictly polite, they either pretended they didn’t or tried to hide it, that’s why they paid the church, after all. Janus didn’t believe people made an effort to actively align with the global canon for morality, just to look like it or deceive themselves. This theory on society made it so when he met Patton he simply dismissed him as a try-hard, later to relabel him as self-deceiving. Maybe he was a victim of his own biased cynicism.

As they grew closer, he started to get the whole picture. To his surprise, Patton tried to get his desires to align with what he perceived as morally correct, sometimes failing miserably. Janus’ presence in his room didn’t qualify as a success by society’s criteria... Patton’s effort to be ‘good’ did not come from a place of wishing to be perceived as such. Patton didn’t want to look good, he needed to be good. A good man. The realisation was hard to process but true.

Once he understood that, Janus could not let go. It stands to reason that, if that kind of person were to earn his affection, someone like his father would awaken his spite. Signor Morandi had simply never made an effort to understand his son’s motivations, unlike Janus. If he was a cynic, Patton was a victim to his own good intentions.

“I do not understand”.

“Lady Renata Regio is alive”.

“Oh”.

“Yes, it is most fortunate, you will no longer have to stay inside and miss the festival”.

“Well, father, I am not sure if that is appropriate, her ladyship must be feeling poorly after such a horrid experience. Perhaps it is best if I stay in and promptly send a letter to help soothe her”.

“Patton, it honours you to be willing to put the weak’s suffering before yours, but it is not needed in this case. You do not have to concern yourself with her. I am afraid that she is safe and sound on the account of having planned her own kidnapping. Lady Renata Regio has joined the pirates bringing disgrace upon her family, the wretched woman”.

Yes! Janus thought. Neither the wardrobe nor the entire room could contain his joy at hearing it.

“That is most unfortunate, should I reassure her family that I do not hold any resentment towards them?”

“It would be no good, there is going to be a scandal!” Signor Morandi sounded too happy.

Janus could not help but to smile a little.

“Are we going to pursue any retaliation?” Janus almost saw Patton shudder in the tone he used. “I do not think it necessary, it is a matter of marriage, although important, there are many other options that--”

“Yes, there are many other women to pursue, that is the spirit! In said spirits, I must inform you of the most wonderful news I have just received”.

What?

“Today a trusted servant from the Regio estate arrived at our home”.

“Yes, Virginia Fusco”, of course, Patton knew her name. “I personally received her, she refused to tell me exactly why she was sent here, also insisted to wait to talk to you”.

“Precisely, well, it turns out she is the personal servant of Lady Romina Regio”.

“The eldest of the twin daughters of the Regio?”

“Indeed. Let me be frank with you son, the Regio know they cannot keep the true actions of their lesser daughter hidden forever, a rumour is meant to surface eventually. This is very unfortunate for them, I have heard they were planning to match Lady Romina with a higher member of the nobility. Her sister’s actions have ruined her chances, it is unlikely that whoever was to marry her will accept such a union. My son, you know I always have your best interests in mind, Lady Renata Regio was a fine choice to provide you with connections to nobility. In turn, her family would have got access to our wealth, which, after their losses in the war, they need”.

Oh no.

“This being the circumstances, they have to choose how to align themselves in the future and what would be more advantageous to the family”.

“Shit” Janus said under his breath.

“We are about to reach an agreement for a marriage between Lady Romina Regio and you. I need you to understand that, if you are to accept, you will have to face some troubles, at least initially. The rumours about Lady Renata’s motivations may taint your reputation for a short while and the Regio’s rush to marry off Lady Romina will raise more rumours”.

“What choice would please you the most?”

“Oh, Patton, you idiot”.

“The union could make your child a count, you could potentially obtain a title depending on how we negotiate with the family. It is my wish that you accept this marriage”.

“Will this bring honour to our family?”

“Certainly”.

“Then…” an air of doubt went through Patton’s voice.

Janus was debating whether or not to burst out of the closet, either to tell him to refuse or to scold him for not accepting immediately what was probably the best opportunity of his life.

“Of course I will accept”.

“You make me very happy and proud, my son. I will meet with the servant girl to send her back with a letter requesting to meet with Lord Regio”.

The words were spoken carelessly. Signor Morandi often did that around his son, not knowing how many times he had been overheard by him. He may be a great man by society’s standards, but he could never be a good man.

Janus slumped against the back of the wardrobe, surrounded by pieces of clothing he could never afford. There was a world in which Patton had refused. But Patton hadn’t been left a real choice, so he could find some comfort in knowing this thing between the two had to end due to him being backed into a corner. Better than having Patton’s morals come between them. That, he would never reconcile with.

This was better than before. Being cast away for something as mundane as marriage, no matter the useful connections involved, was one thing, being left for a countess, well, if that’s what it took to refuse him he wouldn’t complain too much.

He would have preferred a marchioness or a duchess.

He would have preferred to be the only thing standing in between Patton and kingship and still win.

He would definitely prefer it if Signor Morandi was to accidentally fall down a flight of stairs on his way to writing his pesky letter.

There was nothing like a fire to persuade someone, even a countess…

But Patton would be upset.

His hawk screeched from the roofs above. Then footsteps rushed to his side, followed by candlelight flooding the inside of the closet.

Patton had no right to look so humble yet so marvellous. Not even the warmth of the flame could rival with that of his gaze. A gaze that was his’, not of any countess. But, still, a gaze that deserved to become a count.

“Janus…”

Honey clogging up his ears, that was the shape of a whisper.

“I suppose”, he shook off the dust of his cape and held his head up with dignity, “this is when we part. I’d love to say it’s a pity, but we saw it coming. Guess it was nice to enjoy it while it lasted. I’m always a letter away, my dear, that countess of yours wouldn’t ever find out”.

This was the bitter taste of selflessness. He never understood how Patton enjoyed it.

Janus turned around, ready to make his merry way out of Villa Morandi or fall off the balcony properly this time. Suddenly, Patton’s armed chained the two of them to their spot in the room. Patton’s chest heaved pitifully in a mockery of a hiccup.

“I’m sorry. What was I supposed to do? There was no other choice. I didn’t wish to upset you. Please--”

“What do you think you’re doing?”

He promptly let him go.

“I…”

Janus turned back to face him.

“You think crying will make this easier? Do you seriously think I enjoy this? I would gladly rob you of everything and have you entirely to myself. It is taking so much self-restraint to not get your father into a tragic accident, my dear. If anything, you’re making it worse by crying. I am doing this for you. Don’t you dare ruin the one honourable thing I will do in my life”.

“How can I pretend to be happy when you’re leaving?”

There were sparks of light encased in his tears. Something about their ironic beauty left him even more heart-broken.

“What am I going to do, then? I can be selfish to an extent, but I cannot take the rest of your life too. You’re being offered a title and a wife, all the things someone at your level could wish for. Don’t be more of an imbecile, keep it. It is already inappropriate for you to be seen with the likes of me, and it’s even worse with me being a man”.

“You’ve never cared about that”.

“But you do! Let resume, dear”, he tried to say in his most condescending voice. It didn’t sound even remotely like it. “You go to church each Sunday, you have five bibles just in this room and the most sincere good-samaritan complex I have ever seen. I know you can’t bear to live in sin”.

“I can’t bear to live without you either!”

Oh, Patton, you fool, silly, ridiculous man…

“What…” he felt as if he was going crazy.

A chuckle escaped through the spaces in between his teeth. Janus looked downwards and whispered.

“What are you saying?”

This self-consciousness, he had never felt anything like it before. Was he blushing?

“I love you… I know it’s wrong, so why doesn’t it feel like it?”

More honey. What a way for his plan to backfire.

“This is ridiculous, you should be concerning yourself with more important--”

Patton placed the back of his hand under his jaw to raise his head with such gentleness... stupid.

“Is it ridiculous when it’s making you cry like this?”

A compassionate man’s tears were not worth his. He had never been as sure as now that this was a mistake. Yet he longed for him more than ever.

“Of course not” he wiped away his tears feigning some kind of dignity.

As quickly as ever, he also pretended to regain his composure.

“Do you have any sort of plan for what you’re going to do next? Under pressure, you’re a terrible improviser, my love”.

“Well...I can’t let you go. I know as much. I should, for my family, father, my honour. But I will not. You’ve shown me that acting selfishly doesn’t make someone evil. I will find a way to fulfil my duty without giving you up, you have my word”.

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wedreamedlove · 4 years

Text

Official CN Character Profiles

Brought over from Reddit. This contains massive spoilers about the characters up to Chapter 18 (and a bit more).

Papergames released four official character books and a separate bonus one that goes on about the other organizations and minor characters. On the sites that are selling them, some of them have attached more previews of the contents, aka. the profiles of the men.

Chinese players did god's work and transcribed the profiles, so I've translated them.

Interestingly, it looks like the English server names really are their official English names now. No comment on Kiro's name but that's because "L" is tricky in Asian languages.

[NAME] 李泽言 (Li Zeyan) / Victor [AGE] 28 years old [HEIGHT] 183 cm [BIRTHDATE] January 13 [HOROSCOPE] Capricorn [BLOOD TYPE] A [OCCUPATION] CEO of Huarui (LFG in English) [EVOL] Time Manipulation [VOICE ACTOR] 吴磊 (Wu Lei)

Li Zeyan is the president of the Huarui Group. His personality is decisive and overbearing and his aura can fill a room. In university, he set out to start his own business and within a short 8 years he created a legend in the financial world --- the Huarui business group. Although Li Zeyan is young, he possesses an outstanding business acumen and an ability to carry things out. He is a "capitalist" who is strict and serious towards people and things. However, this sort of man also has a secret identity which reveals a hidden side of his character, which is being the manager and chef of the restaurant Souvenir.

[ABOUT HIM] Only ever talking about rules and regulations, not discussing emotions, and having a crushing decisiveness is Li Zeyan's calling card. He is not a kind philanthropist and he won't waste time or money on meaningless things; his company's interests will always be the focus of his considerations. He is like a lion, born with an emperor's aura, and keeping a foothold at the peak of the world with majesty and dominance.

Li Zeyan has a cold and indifferent outward appearance, but underneath is a soft heart. He is kind and it's his habit to help out a weak person or animal in passing. However, he knows the principle of survival of the fittest better than anyone and so he doesn't choose to help at all times. From the start, he has never been a savior and just tries his best to help the "weak" become "strong".

Li Zeyan's hidden identity is the manager and chef of the restaurant, Souvenir. This is a special restaurant and its business policies are very much in Li Zeyan's style; the food is delicious, but he only serves the people he wishes to serve, and almost no one knows that the odd manager of the restaurant Souvenir and the CEO of Huarui are actually the same person.

[ABOUT THE MEANING OF HIS NAME] At the time of his birth, his mother felt he was the most precious treasure bestowed by the heavens and wished for her own child to be blessed(1). Meanwhile, his father had high expectations for this child and hoped for him to be someone temperate in word and actions(2). In the end, they joined these two beautiful wishes and hopes into one name --- Zeyan.

(1) The word 恩泽 (en ze) is hard to translate but it's basically favor bestowed from a higher being to a lower being (ruler to their officials, nature to humans, etc).

(2) The phrase is 谨言慎行 (jin yan shenxing), which is to be cautious in words and deeds. I chose to translate it as temperate, but it's like being deliberate and knowing right and wrong in your words and actions.

[ABOUT HIS FAMILY] Li Zeyan was born into a happy family. His father was calm and dignified, his mother was lively and romantic, and this let Li Zeyan have a blessed childhood. His mother was a university professor and once went to study abroad in France. When Li Zeyan was 14 years old, she passed away due to an illness and Li Zeyan, who misses her dearly, will sometimes call to talk to his mother up in heaven; he also inherited a romantic and art-loving side from her.

[ABOUT HIS HOBBIES]

Top1: Work. He is worthy of being first place with respect to this. When he is in a bad mood, he will also use work to dispel his negative mood.

Top2: Cooking. He is an expert in French cuisine, and one of the dishes he prefers is beef stewed in red wine. Marseille seafood soup, and Burgundy grilled snails.

Top3: Art. In his leisure time, he will go to art exhibitions or listen to classical music.

[ABOUT HIS SECRETS] When he was a child, his father adopted a panda in his name at the Lian Yu (Loveland) Zoo; its name was Yan Yan.

When he is anxious, he will choose to look at the nightscape of the city from a high location.

His regular routine is to sleep at 10PM and get up at 4AM to jog. Surprisingly, he's very popular with cats.

His house is decorated with a very expensive piano, but he's not that good at playing it.

[OTHERS' EVALUATION OF HIM]

"Evaluation? Can I rate my boss? If I have to say something -- he has a first-class business acumen, is incomparably wise, and is a bold leader. I often feel like the disparity between me and him is as wide as the Amazon River! (Can I get a bonus at the end of the year?)" --- Wei Qian (Goldman in English)

"The manager is a very interesting person. Regardless of how other people see him, the young man I am familiar with is someone who hums songs while peeling shrimp, who will stare entranced at the dessert on the verge of being done in the oven, and, when there is no business in the restaurant, he will open a bottle of red wine and eat and talk with me like an ordinary person." --- Mr. Cai (Mr. Mills in English)

"I say, our Li Zeyan is good everywhere, but the only one bad thing is that he's already 28 years old this year, but he still thinks about work all the time. How can this be?" --- Li Zeyan's Aunt

[NAME] 许墨 (Xu Mo) / Lucien [AGE] 26 [HEIGHT] 180 cm [BIRTHDATE] November 15 [HOROSCOPE] Scorpio [BLOOD TYPE] AB [OCCUPATION] Neurologist / Guest Professor at the Lian Yu University (Loveland University) [EVOL] Copy [VOICE ACTOR] 夏磊 (Xia Lei)

Xu Mo is a well-educated, talented, and quiet young professor. Outwardly, he is the leading scientist in the field of neurology and extremely persistent with scientific studies, but in fact he hides unknown secrets. Although he is gentle towards people, he makes people feel that there is a sense of distance, and it is difficult to really enter his inner world.

[ABOUT HIM] In the eyes of the public, Xu Mo is a young and remarkable neurologist and a guest professor at Lian Yu University. He is serious and persistent towards his scientific research, which is how he's obtained extraordinary achievements. At 26 years old, he has already obtained achievements that most people wouldn't get in a lifetime. There is no other word better to describe him than "genius".

The progress of science is often accompanied by many failed experiments, and towards those failed experiments Xu Mo will feel regret. But at the same time he believes that it is a kind of honor to contribute to a better future for humankind. Under his elegant and gentle face, there hides an inexplicable dark side which is the most deadliest poison.

Xu Mo grew up in a happy family of intellectuals. He was called a genius from birth, but on his 7th birthday his whole family met with a car accident and only he survived. Members of Black Swan saved the dying Xu Mo and ever since then Xu Mo is a member of Black Swan. After coming back from studying abroad, he returned anew to the organization with the code name Ares, and participated in the secret genetic modification project.

[ABOUT THE MEANING OF HIS NAME] Too much time has passed and Xu Mo has almost already forgotten his original name. The "Mo(1)" in his name was once his mother's favorite word. This word represents pen and ink, a literary family, and the black and white world in his eyes.

(1) The word is 墨 (mo) which means ink.

[ABOUT HIS FAMILY] Xu Mo was born from a scholarly family. His parents were highly talented and leading researchers, but their personalities were easygoing and, although their work kept them very busy, they did not neglect caring for Xu Mo. Before the car accident they were a very happy and ordinary family.

[ABOUT HIS HOBBIES]

Top1: People Watching. He has a curiosity towards new things and occasionally, for the sake of observing humans, he will do some amazing things that do not suit his usual image, such as watching animations.

Top2: Films. He likes to study European classics and some old movies, and he often goes to see movies late at night.

Top3: Drawing. He once used to like drawing, but he's not very good at it. He can only draw very realistic sketches and has no creativity.

[ABOUT HIS SECRETS] His world is black and white and only by your side can he see colors.

He has a memory that doesn't forget anything he's looked over, is good at logic and observation, and is a "God" in the Werewolf game(2).

(2) I believe in English it's more commonly known as the Mafia game.

His sense of taste isn't too sensitive, but it's not completely absent either.

In his circle of friends, there is only one person who he replies to. Sometimes he drives a black SUV but he much prefers walking home from the lab.

[OTHERS' EVALUATION OF HIM]

"Little Xu, ah, he's an especially outstanding young man. It's rare to encounter or even meet a scientist who researches with such intensity, not to mention he's so easy to get along with. There's a lot of young ladies who like him in the institute, but it seems like he has no thoughts towards this at all." --- The Dean (of the University)

"Xu Mo? We've only seen one side, but he looks a lot like the small boy I knew when I was young, but Xu Mo's attitude is much more modest. If that boy is still alive, I hope he's living like someone as likable as Xu Mo." --- Fan Zihang

"We're similar and he's the only one worthy of being my opponent, although he's becoming more and more disappointing. If we were to cooperate, we would definitely be able to control this world!" --- Hades

[NAME] 白起 (Bai Qi) / Gavin [AGE] 24 [HEIGHT] 181 cm [BIRTHDATE] July 29 [HOROSCOPE] Leo [BLOOD TYPE] B [OCCUPATION] Evol Agent [EVOL] Wind Control [VOICE ACTOR] 张杰 (Zhang Jie)

Bai Qi is an Evol agent, who recently took the initiative to be transferred to the Lian Yu (Loveland) police bureau. Acting as a special officer, he conceals his true purposes and actions. Although his personality is rebellious, stubborn, and intractable but he has his own principles of doing things. This sort of personality constantly gives others a dangerous feeling, so that it is hard for people who have just met him to see him as an Evol agent.

[ABOUT HIM] Bai Qi is a brave and decisive man, and also filled with an utterly fearless and adventurous spirit. Rather than using words, he is more inclined to using actions to express his heart. He is like a wolf, seeming to be alone, dangerous, and he walks through the world doing things his own way. But when he sets his mind on someone or something, he becomes extremely steadfast and loyal, and that will never be easily shaken.

Bai Qi has many informant friends that belong in the gray zone, and he often breaks what's known as the rules of convention. He uses methods that don't look so "just" to achieve his goals. Because of this, there's many people who can't understand him and feel that his actions are inappropriate. Towards all these misunderstandings, Bai Qi doesn't bother to explain and doesn't care. Even if no one understands, he will use his own ways to protect his convictions.

Before he came to the police bureau, Bai Qi had been in the special forces for four years. There, he was tempered to become strong and sharp, and he became a person who could control everything in any dangerous situation. His joining of the special forces symbolizes the difference of his justice compared to his father. He will not give up on someone for any reason. If a sacrifice is necessary, then he will choose to face it alone.

[ABOUT THE MEANING OF HIS NAME] Before the child was born, the Bai family's study was lit up all night long. No one knows what hopes that strict man there once had for his first child. He named his child "Bai Qi" in the hopes that he would be like the Warring States general, Bai Qi, brave and bold and triumphing in every battle.

[ABOUT HIS FAMILY] There were expectations given with Bai Qi's birth, and his father was extremely strict on him. When he was young, and after he was identified as being an ordinary person with no Evol, he was thought of to be a "pointless waste" and was met with extreme indifference. But at that time, he had a gentle mother. His mother loved him dearly but died when he was 15 years old because of a large fire. Bai Qi also has a younger brother and their relationship was very good when they were young, but after their mother died the relationship between the brothers became poor.

[ABOUT HIS HOBBIES]

Top1: Going for a spin on "Lil' Black". He enjoys the speed and passion of freedom at the edge of the city at night.

Top2: Astronomy. He likes the stars, and once did some research on them. He also really enjoys soaring through the night sky, the feeling of looking up at the stars, and Jupiter.

Top3: Boxing. Bai Qi's secret place is a boxing gym. He's great at all sports, but he likes boxing the most.

[ABOUT HIS SECRETS] He loves to eat beef noodles, spicy things, and normally he eats takeaway or instant noodles; he's not particularly obsessed with delicious food.

He used to like playing single-player fighting games, but recently he hasn't played much.

He doesn't like to wear suits, and even if he has to wear one then he can't properly tie a necktie.

He likes science fiction and magazines with pictures like the National Geographic.

Either he doesn't sleep at night, or he sleeps very early.

[OTHERS' EVALUATION OF HIM]

"Our boss? Then of course he's someone who can move heaven and earth, omnipotent, a one man army, triumphant in every battle... Sorry, I've omitted 500 words of objective compliments for my bro, Bai Qi, but basically he's the person I admire the most!" --- Hanye (Minor)

"He's a trustworthy comrade and the only person in the special forces who I can completely entrust my back with. It's not because he once saved me in the past, but because he's just this sort of trustworthy man." --- Guzheng (Eli)

"Bai Qi is excellent and one day he will be the "sharp blade" of the special forces. The only pity is that he is too attached to the justice in his own heart, and he's blinded his own eyes. But at the same time I am looking forward to what road his convictions will take him to." --- Commander Lianji (Leto? I believe in English)

[NAME] 周棋洛 (Zhou Qiluo) / Kilo / Kiro [AGE] 22 [HEIGHT] 176 cm [BIRTHDATE] April 9 [HOROSCOPE] Aries [BLOOD TYPE] O [OCCUPATION] Superstar [EVOL] Absolute Charm / Absolute Control [VOICE ACTOR] 边江 (Bian Jiang)

Zhou Qiluo is an idol who shines like the sun. He was born a child star and it cost him a lot(1) to become a superstar. But he never thought about giving up and he is very strict on the demands for himself and is a perfectionist. Although outwardly he looks like a big kid, the maturity in his heart is not small. In addition to his occupation as a star and performer, he also has multiple identities and a secret goal.

(1) This is a bit vague, but I'm pretty sure it doesn't mean money. I think it means that it took a lot of effort and things had to be sacrificed for him to become a superstar.

[ABOUT HIM] A cheerful sunlight, extraordinary charm, and an open sincerity. These are the labels for the idol, Zhou Qiluo. An idol's work is very busy, but he never once complains; he just tries to show his best side to the audience. This young superstar understands clearly the ways of the world and the dark side of reality, but he always walks on the path towards the light.

Zhou Qiluo likes an ordinary and everyday life, so he often dresses up in a disguise and goes to the marketplace or takes a walk. At the same time, he also really likes shadow technology(2). He has a natural gift for computer-related things. As a hacker, his skills are above anyone else. He made the name of his master, KEY, which he took on, rise again in the community(3) of hackers, and he became another person who guards the light in the dark.

(2) The word here is 黑科技 (hei keji) which literally means "black technology" but it's a word from comics that means magical and amazing technology which breaks the laws of the world or what cannot be explained with current human knowledge.

(3) The word here is 江湖 (jianghu) which is the term used for a community of martial artists (those who read Chinese novels would be familiar with this), but it can also be used as a term for a community of outlaws, aka. hackers.

Zhou Qiluo also has a mysterious third identity, which is that of Helios in Black Swan. When he acts as Helios, he is silent and decisive. If it weren't for having the same appearance, it would be hard for someone to think that they were the same person. If Zhou Qiluo could be said to be the sun, then Helios is the moon hidden in the night. But regardless of whether he is in the light or the darkness, he is himself.

[ABOUT THE MEANING OF HIS NAME] Once he was called 1562, later he was called 3684, then even later he was called Zhou Qiluo; in his life, any decision is to be made without regrets(4) or turning back. When KEY gave him this name, it was with the hopes that once he made a decision he would keep moving with an indomitable will without being lost and confused.

(4) The phrase is 落棋无悔 (luo qi wu hui). It means to not regret a play (chess move) you make.

[ABOUT HIS FAMILY] He was an orphan who was taken in and raised by Shuang Ye Orphanage. Like the other orphans, he was an experiment of Black Swan.

Apple Box is a Golden Retriever that Zhou Qiluo picked up from an apple box. Apple Box is being looked after in his manager's home.

Cello is a cat that Zhou Qiluo found in a cello box. Cello is being raised in the studio.

[ABOUT HIS HOBBIES]

Top1: Music. Music is an indispensable part to his life; guitar, cello, drums... in the world of music he can do anything.

Top2: Food. He likes to eat doughnuts, drink Coca Cola, and eat hotpot. He believes his one love and good food can never disappoint.

Top3: Superhero Movies. He likes to watch all kinds of blockbusters, but especially superhero movies. His favorite is the one without superpowers, Batman.

[ABOUT HIS SECRETS] Compared to single player games, he prefers social games. He likes the feeling of playing with other people.

His guitar pick was gifted to him by his master, KEY.

His secret base is a quiet lake near his home. There are carp in the lake.

He likes to eat doughnuts because of a promise in his childhood.

[OTHERS' EVALUATION OF HIM]

"Our family's Qiluo is naturally peerless and I've never met an artist as naturally gifted as him! As long as this momentum keeps going, he will definitely be able to trend until I retire. The precondition is that he doesn't sneak off to eat!" --- Shen Yuan (Savin in English)

"Kilo is a very gentle child. It's possible many people only see his sunny, bright side, but he has his own weaknesses and sorrows. I hope that one day my child can obtain real happiness." --- Eva Seidel

"When I first saw him, he was only 4 years old, thin and small, and looking like he wouldn't live past a day. But there was a light in his eyes and so I took him away. I didn't see wrong, that the child at that time who yearned for the light would gradually become a sun that could illuminate other people." --- KEY

#mlqc #mr love queen's choice #love and producer #mlqc gavin #mlqc victor #mlqc lucien #mlqc kiro #mlqc bai qi #mlqc li zeyan #mlqc xu mo #mlqc zhou qiluo #my translations

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